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Chapter Text

The cursed white sand hissed underneath the hooves of their horses, the moon high above them as they marched along the stream. It was a starry night, as were most where they came from. But the clouds - ever present over their neighbouring country like a curse - were starting to appear above them, dotting the sky with ominous grey.

Once, this river had been surrounded by lush green. Or so they said, at least. But even then, that was many generations ago. No one still knew what had lead to these lands being afflicted by this terrible curse, but they whispered it was the same thing that had driven that chasm between the hearts of the tribes within the Infinite Lands and nobles of the southern countries.

One thing that was known, though, was that the ground was now covered in sand as white and as cold as snow. The river Death, a beautiful thing with crystal water sullied only by the thousand tiny shards of impossible to spot but dagger sharp ice, trailed along the sand looking more benign than should be possible. Whenever something living so much as touched the water, after all, the white around them would be stained with ruby red immediately.

There were no plants growing here. There was no rain. No snow either. The unforgiving heat of the sun at day only covered the area in a deep veil of fog but never managed to heat the sand below. In the light of the moon, weaker and unable to hold its own against the ever present cold, anything touching the sand directly would be covered in a layer of frost within few minutes.

That's why they were traveling at night, too. They had horse shoes forged of phoenix ore, the only metal - magical or otherwise - that could prevent that outcome. They would rest at day, taking care to wake and eat before the sun was too low. While it was dark, they wouldn't stop. Not once. They couldn't.

A small army had gathered to join him on this journey. All of them wanted this to work, wanted a treaty desperately. The many fighters among them and the tribal Chiefs had joined after his leave from the capital city right in the heart of the Infinite Lands. They had come along to protect their young High Chief, or to show a united front, or even just to witness what would happen next. But they were all capable. Proud. Toughened by the unforgiving nature of the soil their homes resided on. And they were loyal, as fighters ought to be. They would fight till their last breath, would never abandon or betray their leader. They were proud, bound by honour.

In their midst, Danny was safe. Even if he was more than capable of holding his own in his fights, of course. Still, he knew no harm would come to him here.

He also knew his open invitation had accidentally turned into a formidable army fit to intimidate any enemy - which, frankly, had not been his goal at all. Now he could only hope that their numbers wouldn't be their downfall.

Then again, the Phantom was a stubborn man. He would sit at the border, stay there and wait for however long it would take. And if he would die of old age at that border - he would toughen it out.

The Infinite Lands needed this.

Danny, a boy of lanky stature compared to what their countrymen usually looked like, was riding at the front on his white mare. His pure white hair was unkempt from the winds and days of travel, but the strands sill looked silky and fluffy regardless. Nothing compared to Dan, who wore the proud hairstyle of a frontline fighter, complete with multiple types of braids at the sides to keep his bottom half hair behind his ears and a loose braid along the top of his head to tie his hair half-up. Still, Danny's white hair, combed back and held in place by a black gold circlet in the form of two dragon wings, fell around his shoulders like a thin cloak. It looked presentable enough.

His actual cloak, soft and made out of white furs, was draped over his shoulders and secured with a clasp made from the same black gold as Dan's and Elle's hair beads. His pants and his vest were made of white leather, just like his trusty boots. The gloves he wore, although leather as well, were a stark contrast to the rest of his clothes with their midnight black colour.

The pale, green-eyed man casually blew out a breath. Differently from the rest of the group, it did not fog.

"There's the border," a voice next to him suddenly mentioned, making him startle out of his own mind. He must have really been lost to it if even the Fright was able to sneak up to him. The older man was always covered in his black dragon scale armour, after all.

Glancing over to where Fright was looking, Danny noticed that the patrol post at the border was indeed close. The torches were even alight, casting the top of the guard tower in a warm light. Humming, he nodded towards that. "Looks like they noticed us."

"I'd be disappointed by anything else," Fright commented.

Phantom nodded his agreement. Then he raised his fist and let out three sharp thrills. On his command, the entire group picked up pace with the banners raised high.

As they approached, other noises filled the air around them. A wolf-howl to his left, trice. The song of an owl behind him, twice. The noise of a woodpecker hammering away to his right, four times. The roar of a lion to his left but a bit further behind this time, once.

It told him things, those noises. They were signs. Warnings of hidden dangers spottet.

Three posts readied to attack them. Two spies hidden in the woods behind them. Four archers spottet at the readied posts. One post was about to attack.

His answer was simple: One whistle, two thrills. As one, the entire company held their horses. Less than two seconds after he'd given the command, Danny and the pople accompanying him held at the border. Just about a hoof from where the Lands ended and Gotham started, right where they could stay without invading. Without asking to be attacked.

There was were hasty voices drifting from atop the wall king Wayne had erected on the border, differently from Danny's men who all knew to wait fro his next command. Who all stared up at the shadows of the soldiers above, just in case they had to intervene and save Danny. As though Danny would need saving.

After a while, finally, the soldiers came to a decision. One of them - a young man that was almost still a boy, though Danny really couldn't say anything about that - stepped froward until he was right at the edge. "What- What's your purpose? In, uh, in coming here?"

Danny figured it was supposed to be a demand. The soldier must've been newly appointed, though, because it sounded more like him begging. Too bad, the words themselves had been well chosen. Perhaps the standard protocol when someone neared the border? Danny just hoped it wasn't specifically when someone neared the border with a small army - or what looked like one, at least.

"I am the High Chief of the Infinite Realms," Danny called up as though the soldier wouldn't already know as much, "And I have a message for your king."

"A… A message?"

Giving one decisive nod, he pulled out the sealed parchment from his pouch. With confidence he didn't really feel, Danny looked at the soldier. He could not show his insecurities now, not if this was to succeed. "Deliver this to him, quickly."

"That…" There was a small pause as the soldier looked behind himself. "That might take a while, your highness."

Doing his best not to wince at the title - though he was pretty sure he failed - Danny shook his head. "I hear the League has a meeting right now, right here in Bristol. The capital is half an hour by horse from here, is it not?"

"Ah, I… Yes. Yes, I…"

The soldier left. Blinking in confusion, Danny looked back towards where Fright stood next to him. A step to his right and one behind, like always. The knight only shrugged, however. Danny shrugged back.

"If they won't help us…" He wasn't really sure how to end the sentence. He'd imagined that the king wouldn't agree to his request, fretted over it many nights on his way here and while planing prior to the journey. But never had he thought they'd disrespect him enough to not even give the request to the king.

Fortunately the awkward pause didn't last too long. Soon, the soldier stumbled out of the gate, bowing to him quickly. His eyes flitted between the parchment still in Danny's hand and the knight behind him. Poor thing had probably never dealt with diplomacy. He had gone all pale in the face. Trying to comfort the young boy almost his own age, Danny dismounted and gave him the parchment.

"Just bring that to him as fast as you can." The boy was still pale, so Danny put his hand on his shoulder and smiled. "And I promise I won't…" Won't what? What was the soldier afraid of anyways? The Infinite Lands were, after all, at a disadvantage at strategy, allies, numbers, finances… Anything other than military power, really. "…get angry," he finally finished lamely.

Somehow that seemed to have worked. At least the soldier nodded hastily, something shining in his eyes. "Yes, your majesty. Of course. Thank you."

As soon as Danny dismissed him with a wave of his hand, the boy sprinted away. For a moment, Danny waited. Then, he chirped twice. After a moment he got a click in response. The guards had retreated and the weapons were gone. So… It was all good now? Probably.

Shrugging, Danny turned around and called out: "Set up camp, we'll wait until the morrow."

"I'm not sure that's something we need to-"

A sudden shout from the hall interrupted the king of Centrea. Barry, along with most of the other royals present, immediately reached for his sword. Bruce, their host and the owner of the castle, did the same. Even though the king of Gotham did not bother to make such a show of it, sliding a dager into his hand without much movement instead.

The voices outside drew nearer. Thundering footsteps, probably from the guards chasing whoever it was that dared enter the Watchtower fortress - but apparently unsuccessfully so.

Tension build in the room as the seconds ticked by, each accompanied by the noise outside the heavy oak door until - Bam!

The door bounced off the wall with how forcefully it'd been thrown open. In the threshold stood a young boy, no older than Bruce's third son. Panting heavily, he made eye contact with none other than king Wayne himself. "My king," he gasped out, "I- He said he would- There's-"

When the guards finally caught up to the probably-not-actually-intruder, Bruce raised his hand to stop them in their tracks. "What happened," he demanded, voice icy as ever.

"A letter," the young man gasped out, shaking and pale from more than the exhaustion, "From the border - from… from across the dessert."

Once more, the tension in the air shifted. If princess Diana were to draw her lasso, surely she could have cut through it.

The king of Gotham motioned for the guards to deliver the parchment in the young man's hand to him. Carefully, almost as though it was a bomb, the chief guard took the fragile thing and handed it off to the royal.

"Thank you, Jim," he absently muttered as he inspected the glowing green seal. Sealed with magic, he noted. It seemed to be authentic, then. Carefully, he used the dagger still in his hand to cut it open. Inside of it was a few lines, written in blue ink that bathed the king's face in its icy glow. Everglowing ink, he distantly noted, a magic ink that protected the scripture from being changed even by magic. It was only found within the Infinite Lands, and Bruce had only ever heard of it before. Bulky letters with splatters of ink where the feather had scratched too heavily against the parchment in some of the curves, he noted, nothing like the careful and curled letters of the nobles within the alliance.

Dear King of Gotham and Guests, it read, It is with deepest respect that I wish to extend my greetings from you. As you read this letter, I and some of my liegemen are waiting at the border. First and foremost I wish to assure you that none of us will cross it before your reply.

Bruce's eyebrows drew together in anxious unrest. Was that a threat? They'd worded it carefully, the threat was veiled just enough to be denied should they call it out - yet thinly enough to be unmistakable. Crafty. And foreboding…

The reason for my arrival at the border is what happened with Pariah Dark. I assume you remember the tragedy that happened many seasons ago. It cost both of us so much when the last High Chief made his foolish decision. You should be glad to hear that he has been punished for what he did and has been replaced. And I can assure you that I, as the new High Chief, do not intend to repeat the mistakes my predecessor has made.

Ah. Definitely a threat, then. Would they need to prepare for war again? Would there be a repeat of last time? Or was there any chance to avoid a repeat of that awful fate they'd been helpless against back then?

The last siege - How could anyone ever forget that travesty? - had resulted in the continent lit up with inextinguishable flames and full of undead soldiers. It had only ended when the Infinite Lands themselves had rebelled against the High Chief's dictatorship and caged him. The entirety of the Infinite Lands had been needed to undo the curses. It'd been just five years since, and the continent was still healing from it.

The news of a young warrior, blessed by most of the dragons the barbarians worshiped, defeating the tyrant as he broke out of his prison and taking over the bloodied throne had come just half a year ago. The entire continent and the League in particular had tensed at the news - but the new High Chief had seemed to ignore the lands beyond his reign. How foolish of them, to think that meant he would continue to leave them alone. How foolish of Bruce himself, who was supposed to be prepared for these kinds of things.

Gripping the parchment tighter, he kept reading.

It is my heartfelt wish to heal the wounds that Pariah Dark has left. I hear that you are a wise king. Don't you agree, then, that peace would be much better than to continue this useless feud? King of Gotham, I sincerely hope that you and some of your current guests will come to the border and meet me and the chiefs in my company. We wish to talk, and to mend the wounds.

Bruce swallowed. That was it! A way out. A way to avoid another siege. Was it a trap? A way to gain justification this time, perhaps? It was probable. Likely, even. But as long as they held on to the guise of diplomacy there was a way to turn the tables and end this with a peace treaty. No matter how fragile that peace would be, it would be better than another war so soon. Bruce would have a chance to do what he'd failed to do before and prepare. Should the war inevitably arrive, he would not be left without contingencies like now.

There was a way, and he was willing to take it. There would not be a repeat of last time. He wouldn't let there be.

I hope for good news, your majesty. We will wait here. With sincerest regards, Phantom, High Chief of the Infinite Realms, king of the Zone of Death, Child blessed by the Cursed Lands

For a moment, Bruce just stared at the letter. Then, he carefully placed the item down, just in case there was more magic to it than he had realised. Mouth drawn into a thin line, the King hurried out of the hall. Behind him, he could hear uneasy murmurs. Surely some of the other royals would read the letter he left behind. He wouldn't blame them.

"Bruce!"

Ignoring the voice of his best friend, the gothamite kept his brisk pace towards the tower this fortress was named after. First of all, he would have to check. Just to make sure that it actually was the High Chief who'd sent the letter - and that he actually was waiting outside his borders for a reply.

"Bruce, what happened?" Clark managed to catch up to him, hand on his shoulder in a futile attempt to calm him. Bruce couldn't be calmed, though. Not when this was what it was about. Not with everything that was on the line. His kingdom, his friends, his family - nothing would calm him as long as he didn't know them safe.

When he only shrugged off Clark's hand, the other royal sighed but didn't make a second attempt at physical touch. "Bruce. Bruce, talk to me!"

"B?"

Suddenly, Bruce forgot how to move. His muscles locked the very second he heard his son's voice. Why was he here? Weren't he and his siblings supposed to be in the castle in Bristol? The only one who wasn't supposed to be in the capital at the moment was his oldest, and Bruce knew Dick to be in Blüdhaven where he took care of his own domain.

So then, why was Tim here?

Seemingly aware of his unspoken question, the prince answered it as he walked over. "I was delivering some reports to Gordon, you forgot them at home. But… What's wrong? Why are you so concerned?"

"Concerned?" he heard Clark's confused whisper beside him, "I thought he was angry."

Ignoring his friend once more, Bruce turned to look at his child. Tim's sky blue eyes were narrowed in concern as they made contact with his own baby blue ones. His hair looked a bit disheveled as they always did when Tim had worked through some problem until he gave up and did something else. That something else had probably been the delivery, then. He wore his armour, too, made from scarletite and the same black umbraerium Bruce's own armour was forged with. He was missing his helmet, but other than Jason most of them didn't wear that if not need be.

Bruce's heart ached to see his son so close to danger, but the armour on his body calmed him some. So he managed to shake himself out of his stupor.

"Go home," he demanded. To the ears of his son, the words probably sounded more like the plea they were, however.

The way his face hardened was telling of as much as the prince shook his head and crossed his arms defiantly. "Tell me what's going on. Something happened - what is it?"

"A letter," Clark betrayed Bruce before he managed to come up with a lie or half truth that could protect his son, "from the border. He won't talk to me, but, well… The soldier said it was from beyond the desert."

Tim shuddered at the mention, but his gaze hardened further. "Is it confirmed?" All Bruce could do was shake his head. Tim nodded. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Before Bruce could stop him, Tim had already resumed Bruce's path. It was Bruce this time who hurried to keep up. Wordlessly, the three of them ascended the stairs. Under different circumstances, if the stakes weren't so dire, Bruce would have made a comment about Clark's bad stamina when the man was out of breath not even halfway up. As it were, he could only worry about what that would mean if it should come to a war…

No. It wouldn't. There would be no war.

"You should go home," he told his son again.

"No."

"I wasn't asking, Tim."

He got a raised eyebrow and a glare for his troubles. "Nor was I, actually. I'm staying."

Bruce wouldn't allow a war to happen, especially not now that his son was here.

Chapter Text

"I wasn't expecting so much… hospitality."

Danny nodded silently to his brother's words. Different from Dan, though, he felt more overwhelmed than distaste. He did share the suspicion, however. He'd expected to be turned away at least once. He'd even prepared multiple speeches on how negotiations could benefit both of them! Being allowed entry to Gotham and even getting offered guest rooms at the Watchtower Fortress… It felt too good to be true.

"Maybe they're trying to make us look inferior to them? Showing off and make us seem ungrateful or something?" chief Ember shrugged when the two royals looked at her. "What? It wouldn't be the first time…"

"If they dare try to sully our names I'll sully their fucking floors, those little-"

"No!" Danny all but spat at his brother. "You will do no such thing! We're here in the name of peace, remember? Besides, they've been nothing but courteous to us so far. Everyone was allowed to keep their weapons and they even gave us the entire wing all to ourselves. They could've just let us camp out at the border…"

He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. There was no actual heat to his words. He was just as unnerved as them, after all. The idea of the Southerners being nice to them even despite all the bad blood still between them was so absurd. And the bad blood was definitely still there, if the fearful gazes and the quickly hushed whispers around were anything to go by.

Danny wanted to believe that this was them wanting peace as much as he did, but…

"And if they won't agree to a treaty?" Ember asked, not for the first time "What do we do then?"

"Travel back, reinforce the borders and try to get a trade agreement with some kingdom in Avengia," Danny answered, not for the first time either.

"It'll be difficult. The continent is far away. Ships have to cross the ocean and there's storms between our continents - it's like a different world. Barely any ship ever makes it across. There's no way they would agree. And we don't even know anything about their customs or what they'd need anyways!"

Danny sighed, begrudgingly nodding at chief Plasmius's words.

The chief of Amity, a mountain village that used to belong to the southern countries before the last war, had been the last to agree to Danny's coronation. He'd always been self-serving and since he'd become a chief only under Pariah's rule he'd been loyal to the former High Chief. It was him who'd freed the tyrant from the prison underneath the castle, too, and he'd only sworn his loyalty to Danny when it'd been the last way out of execution.

Danny, too, had only accepted so he had to execute less people. And both of them knew that Plasmius was still of the opinion that they should go to war, instead of all of this.

They also both knew that the chief would never risk going against Danny's direct orders. Or risk being left out, hence his being here.

Still, as much as Danny wanted to deny everything Plasmius said he had to agree this time. Avengia would never agree to trade with them. Yet what were they to do if they failed here? Resources were tight in the Infinite Lands. Without a trading partner they'd slowly perish, even if it would take long enough to not happen under Danny's rule.

He didn't want to wage a war. He wouldn't. And if he couldn't convince the League then he would ask every single country within the continent and the continent somewhere beyond the storms to the west.

"I'll find a way to get a trade agreement," he promised everyone present, himself included.

"There already is a way to get those resources…"

"A way other than war," he hissed, glaring at Plasmius until the older man bowed in faux agreement. "I won't fail. I promise I won't."

"Are you quite sure about this, my king?"

Bruce nodded grimly, going over his notes once more. "I know it's not ideal having them here, but inviting them here allows us to stall until tomorrow. The guise of giving them time to rest after the journey they had is the only way to buy some time. And we need that. We may not prepare as much as I'd like, but…"

"But at least more than not at all, huh, B?" Tim sighed, dropping a couple of his own notes on Bruce's desk. "I can't believe we never considered this!"

"I can't believe they even try to go for negotiations," Oliver grumbled. The ruler of Star Kingdom - who'd lost his father to the war and had voted not to agree to the negotiations until the end - scowled deeply into the book he was reading. "They don't usually ask before they do anything. It's more their style to just fight and make up reasons later."

"Will you be a liability tomorrow?" Diana asked, slamming the cards she'd been studying against the table hard enough to make it shake. "Because I have no qualms banning you from the table if need be."

For a moment, Oliver held her gaze. Then, he sighed and looked back into his book. "I want peace, too, you know? It's just…"

"You don't trust the olive branch isn't poisoned?" Barry nodded absently, circling another item on his list. "We get that. But better take the poison than the guillotine, is all. If they don't get their justification they might not attack."

"That's wishful thinking," Oliver scoffed, "There's no telling what they might demand of us. Saying we'll give them whatever they want is basically unconditional surrender before we even lost!"

"As long as they don't declare war and put us through the same hell as last time, we win… Hey, do you guys think apples are a good item? They don't seem to have them there, but isn't offering them something so simple kind of insulting?"

"Put it down for now, but add on seedlings. Being able to plant their own is more valuable," Arthur suggested to which Barry nodded and circled that item, scribbling a small note next to it. "Anyways, it's as Barry said: Getting out of this without the world up in flames again is a victory in itself. You remember what it was like, don't you?"

"Of course!" Oliver sounded offended at the question "I was there, you know? Right at the front lines."

"You and me both," Bruce reminded him. At least after the time Oliver had been held captive and thought dead. But he didn't add that, to everyone other than him Oliver was still "missing" for a few years during the war. Not a victim of the Infinite Lands who'd somehow managed to flee from under chief Plasmius's watchful eye.

Oliver apparently thought of the same, judging by his glare and silence.

They worked in blissful silence for a while, until Oliver broke it once more: "I just want to remind you that the last war started with a peace negotiation, too."

"Yes, but we were the ones asking to negotiate back then," Clark reminded him, "Their answer was war. Do you really want ours to be the same, even though we cannot possibly win?"

"Can we really not? We know a lot more about them than we did then. We're a lot stronger now, too. Maybe they wouldn't get far enough to drive us into a corner this time."

"Maybe isn't good enough. Besides, how much do we really know? The new High Chief is different from the last one, he uses different strategies. We still don't know what their sounds mean, either." Tim shook his head. "We don't know that much, really."

"We already voted. They're already in the fortress." Bruce looked up, making eye contact with Oliver's lost gaze. Softly, as sincerely as he could, Bruce promised: "I won't lead us astray, old friend."

"And," Barry added, braking the fragile moment carelessly, "if they do demand something too unreasonable we can still deny them then. By the way, what do you think is a reasonable amount of gold to offer…?"

"Hey! I'm calculating the money here." Arthur scowled at him.

"Oh. If gold counts as money, does that mean I shouldn't have marked the emerald mine?" Diana's smile apparently did little to placate the king of the atlantean islands.

"Am I a joke to you guys?!"

The next morning found Danny pacing nervously in his assigned room. They'd prepared themselves breakfast at dawn in one of the kitchens. Turns out the staff at the fortress had expected them to still be asleep and had been about to begin preparing the meal as Danny and his company had cleaned up after themselves.

He hoped they wouldn't tell the royals about that blunder. Or that it wouldn't be considered rude to have taken their job from them. He didn't think that it would, but then again he'd never learned royal etiquette before he somehow ended up being the one to slit Pariah's throat. And even then it'd been the etiquette of the Infinite Lands, not that of the Southerners.

Oh, Ancients! He had no idea about the etiquette here!

He raised his hands to run them through his hair, but he caught himself before he did. Today he actually wore a royal braiding in his hair. One strand on his right running across his face until it was loosely tucked behind his left ear as a symbol of his reign; seven strands alternately from just below and just above where his crown sat, twisted around the black gold, to symbolise the seven Ancients. He had managed to convince Fright and Dan to just leave the rest of his hair fall naturally, but it had taken half of eternity to have them braided that intricately. He wouldn't be able to stand sitting still that long a second time.

Instead, he sighed and went back to pacing.

"If you run through the carpet they might charge you for it," Dan smirked, meeting Danny's eyes in the mirror. He was just finishing up his ceremonial paint. The design was simple, just two lines trailing down from his temples to his hairline, one thin and one a bit thicker. The four dendrites of a snowflake underneath each eye were the hardest part of them - the part Danny hadn't chosen for his family's design himself. Because he, himself, could not paint them.

Dan put down his brush and the red paint that marked him as a warrior. Looking at Danny's still bare face he raised an eyebrow. "You going without paint?"

Danny shook his head with a sigh. Differently from some of the chiefs - like Ember, for example, or Medusa, Desiree and Plasmius - Danny didn't usually wear his own ceremonial paint. He avoided it whenever he could, actually. But today was an official occasion, so it'd be rude not to. Even if the Southerners didn't have a tradition like this and didn't know, if they were to find out later how disrespectful it was in the Infinite Lands it would surely cause problems.

He went over to the bag that held his own paint - a softly glowing ice blue that was reminiscent of everglowing ink - and his brush. "I'll wear it. It's just… could you?"

Chuckling, Dan stood and walked over. "You've gotta learn how to do it yourself, twerp. You're not a little kid anymore - you're a mighty High Chief now."

Rolling his eyes Danny sat on the impossibly plush bed as Dan motioned for him to. "I'll practise at home, promise. I just want them too look proper for this. Besides, it's not like I'll need them a again soon."

"Won't need them again soon?" Dan huffed, holding Danny's face in his hand to keep him from moving about and ruining the design. "Isn't one of your requests a 'political marriage to strengthen the ties'?"

Blushing, Danny tried to shake his head. Dan's grip prevented him from that, though. "That's just because every proposal should have a demand you're willing to drop. Do you really think they'd ever pass one of their blessed bloodlines over? No way."

"Yeah, but don't- Close your eyes?" Danny complied and Dan moved on to paint the dendrites beneath his eyes. "Don't they have weird practices like that here anyways? Arranged marriages are all the rage here, right?"

Danny hummed, trying to keep from scrunching up his nose at the uncomfortable feeling of the brush so close to his eyes. "They do have a lot of arranged marriages here, but only with people they trust." Duh, he thought to himself. Then, after considering it, he added for good measure: "Duh!"

Dan snorted a laugh, retracing one of his lines on Danny's left eye. "Right, right, my bad. And what are those demands you won't back down from? You can open your eyes again, by the way."

Danny opened his eyes, but he did raise an eyebrow at Dan. "There's no way you are that fast. Those little spices are tiny! Tiny and weirdly specific!"

Dan gave him an unimpressed stare. "They're really not, Danny. They're really simple, actually. They're really underwhelming for a family mark, Danny."

Offended, Danny gasped. "Well, not everyone can be as good at make-up as Medusa with her thousand itsy-bitsy scales and that weird fading effect she'd got going on for each of them!"

"That is a complicated design, yeah," Dan admitted, smirk still firmly in place, "But that talent comes from practice. Besides, even Plasmius has a more intricate design."

"Plasmius doesn't count. He's a drama queen if I've ever seen one."

Considering this, Dan stirred the brush in the paint for a moment. "Hm, yeah, that's true. Still! There's not a single family out there with a design as simple as ours! It's literally two thin squiggly lines, two thick squiggly lines, six tiny lines on the lower lash line, three tiny Vs per lash line, done. We only have lines!"

"What about Nicolai? His only has some lines, too!"

"Yeah, lines that cover his entire face in perfectly horizontal or vertical lines, perfectly perpendicular to each other no matter what the face structure is like on that part of his face. And it runs down from the crown of his hair to beneath his ears like the most intricate headband ever crafted. Not… squiggly line, squiggly line, three lines, nine Vs, repeat."

Grumbling, Danny had to admit Dan had a point. Still, though… "I like it like that. It's simple and to the point. Like our family!"

Dan gave Danny another unimpressed look as he put down the ink and brush. "Trust me, Danny," he said, "when I say there's nothing simple about our family - and nothing to the point about you."

"I- What's that supposed to mean?!"

Dan didn't answer, the asshole, just snickered and returned to getting ready himself.

Since bringing armour or heavy weaponry to a formal occasion would've been rude Dan couldn't wear his usual attire. So instead he'd be wearing black wyvern leather and two silver chain-belts to clasp a pouch and two daggers to. Since daggers were basically nothing when it came to carrying weapons. As close to unarmed as anyone from the Infinite Lands would ever let themselves be seen.

"Aren't you going to cover your arms?" Danny asked, pointing to the many scars on his brother's arms. He usually wouldn't have even asked, but those were from the war. Showing off the reminder of what had happened the last time they'd wanted to negotiate might not be the best start.

Dan, probably knowing what Danny was on about, shrugged. "It's hot as hell here. I'm not going to stink up the meeting room just for that. If it's too much for their delicate sensibilities they can just look somewhere else.

Danny hummed nodding. That was true, too. Besides, it was considered rude to ask a warrior to hide his scars back home. The Southerners had been pretty accommodating so far. Surely they wouldn't get mad about something so rediculous?

"More than that, aren't you going to change?"

Danny blinked up at his brother. "I already did, though?"

Dan turned around sharply, looking Danny up and down. He wore an outfit pretty similar to the one he had worn yesterday. It was a new one, though, and the leather wasn't worn yet. Still, Dan's gaze alone could have frozen Danny solid if he'd still been vulnerable to the cold.

"You want to wear that? To a diplomatic meeting? Where the stakes are high? And we're already at a disadvantage? When this will be your first impression on them?"

Blinking slowly, Danny nodded. He sensed he'd made a mistake of some kind, Dan's incredulous stare gave him a vague feeling. "I was. But I'm not going to, because…?"

"Because those are everyday clothes, you twerp! We did not pack your royal attire for nothing! Seriously, let me- Where did you put your bag?"

Danny would have pointed out that he was already wearing the crown, the braids and the paint. But he didn't feel like being lectured about the proper decorum by Dan of all people. So he pointed out his bags instead.

"So we're all in agreement, then? These are the things we are going to offer in exchange for peace, if we have to. And if he doesn't leave it up to us we'll do our best to comply with his demands. Remember, he's come this far to talk. That means there is a way to end this peacefully."

Bruce carefully met the eyes of each of his fellow royals present. Clark to his right, then Arthur, Barry, Oliver on the other side of the table, Diana next to him. They'd sent the rest home, hoping that the six of them would be enough and yet not too many to the point where they'd get in each other's way. The others had complied, happy not to have to face the barbarians of the north.

He got a couple of nods in answer, and a grumbled something from Oliver. Good enough for now, he supposed. Better than he would've gotten last night.

Bruce took a deep breath, then turned to Jim who was standing behind him. "We're ready. Escort our guests in, please."

The head guard bowed to Bruce and left. Before the door could fall closed, however, someone managed to slip past. Someone who Bruce's stunned brain took a second to register as Tim. Tim clothed in a suit. Without armour. Without weapon.

"Tim? Just what do you think you're doing?"

Defiantly, his son meet his eyes. "I'm attending a diplomatic meeting. Why? What does it look like I'm doing?"

Tim, like all his children, must have gotten that defiance from none other than Selina. His concubine had the same expression on her face whenever he asked her, begged her to make it official and become his queen. Or when he asked and begged her to stop stealing from merchants who were trying to fool her or nobles who were rude to her due to her commoner blood. Or when he dared to ask her for anything else she didn't feel like doing, actually.

He loved his family, but by the gods, that expression never meant anything good. Especially not when he saw it on his children.

"Tim," he said, forcing his voice to be even, "Tim, we don't have time for this. The High Chief and his men are about to arrive, you have to go. Now."

Completely ignoring his protests, Tim simply took a seat on the empty chair to his right.

"Son, I do not want you here. Go back to Bristol and tell your brothers-"

"Tell them yourself," Tim interrupted him, eyes meeting his with more strength than he felt, "Go and tell them why your thick head insists on going to battle without reinforcements. Huh?"

That may be true, but why couldn't Tim see? He wouldn't be able to protect his son here. This was already so risky. Why couldn't he at least grant Bruce the knowledge that his children would have some time to prepare? That they would have a chance to flee and be safe.

"Tim," he tried again.

Again, Tim interrupted him while shaking his head: "No. I am not telling them why I abandoned you here. I am going to stay."

Bruce was about to try again when three brisk knocks to the wooden door resounded through the room like cannon fire. Hiding his trembling hand beneath the table he watched helplessly as the door opened to reveal their… guests.

It was too late. They were here and Tim wasn't back at the capital and it was too late.

Gods, what was he doing, dragging his own son into this mess? He closed his eyes for a second, allowing himself to mourn the decisions that had led to his son's presence today. Then he opened them again, a new fire burning inside of him. More than ever, he knew now that he would stop at nothing to make sure this negotiation would succeed.

There was no way he could allow the High Chief to have anything to complain about, not a single thing.

Chapter Text

The new High Chief was… young. Younger than expected. He was about Tim's age, if that. He was a lot smaller than Tim would've thought, too. He was definitely smaller than Tim, even though even the women in his company easily dwarfed Bruce. He looked so… fragile, compared to the rest of the Barbarians.

He was lean, too. There was a lot of muscle on his body, strength in his movements. But it was hidden rather well. If one wasn't looking for it, they could've been overlooked.

He wore a fitted shirt fashioned out of what looked like basilisk scales, and black pants made with some kind of silky fabric. Draped over his shoulder was a bright blue, almost white cape. The upper hem was endorsed by white fur while the fabric itself swung around him softly in a breeze that wasn't there. The lower hem was as wispy as smoke, and when he looked closer Tim realised that the fabric was glowing softly.

Was that the infamous fabric made out of will o'wisps? He'd heard of it before. It was a magic fabric that wouldn't allow for any kind of weapon to pass through and could grant the wearer the ability to move through solid objects. But it was rare, even in the Infinite Lands. They were only supposed to wear the creatures they slaughtered themselves, after all, and wisps were infamously hard to catch. Like all ghost creatures.

He wore a belt made our of silver chains in looped into Celtic knots. There was a dagger fastened to that belt, but it looked new and unused. The white leather gloves and matching boots, on the other hand, looked well-worn. As tough as that leather was, Tim would place his bet on Wyvern leather. He wasn't too sure, though.

The outfit was fancy, especially with the intricate hairstyle (Tim knew the braids meant something, but he had no idea what it was), but the materials and the war paint casting his face into an eery glow made it clear that it was suited for a fight as much as it was to look nice.

The people accompanying him all had war paint on their faces, too. Most of them were more intricate, but there was one man to the High Chief's right - the only man wearing red paint - whose design mirrored that of the High Chief. Maybe a close confidant? His right hand man? Something like that, Tim guessed, if he was allowed to wear the same design the High Chief wore.

There were two women with him and two men. The others must've been sent away, similar to the royals of the League. Though obviously for very different reasons. How concerning, then, that Tim didn't know those reasons.

Placing a fist on his heart and lowering his head, the High Chief smiled at them. "Greetings. I am High Chief Phantom, ruler of the Infinite Lands. This is Chief Ember." He pointed at the woman with her hair up in a ponytail full of braids, so full of ice phoenix feathers that it almost looked like her hair was blue.

"Chief Desiree." He now motioned to the other woman, who wore her black hair open and whose warpaint was heavily centred around the eyes and the lips. Tim noted distantly that her tulle-attire didn't look barbarian, though he couldn't place it.

"Fright, the leader of the royal guards." He motioned to the man clad in black wyvern armour, someone everyone had heard scared whispers about whenever the last war came up. Tim couldn't help the shiver running down his spine. The warrior looked even more fearsome than he'd heard. The portraits didn't do him justice.

"Dantrey, head of the army and my brother." He gestured to the man with red paint. And, oh, that made sense. Of course he'd be close to the High Chief if this was his brother. So two members of the royal family in attendance, then, same as with Bruce and him. Or, well, not the same but similar.

"And-" Phantom stoped blinking. Then he narrowed his eyes and made a clicking sound. Nothing happened. With a sigh, the High Chief turned around and walked back to the door. His frown deepened, and Tim closed his eyes for a second so he could just breathe.

Something had happened. The talk hadn't even started yet and something had already happened. Great. So much for calming them down, then.

"He's with me, let him pass." The High Chief's voice didn't sound happy but - thank the gods! - not angry either. More exasperated. Like this was something he was used to have happen. Still blocking the view of whoever was there, Phantom crossed his arms. "You're late."

"As you can see, I was… hindered," a somewhat haughty voice answered. As it did, though, something happened. Not with the guests, but within their own ranks. With king Oliver, to be exact.

The man, usually either the picture of a soldier about to go to war or the most casual man Tim had ever met, suddenly froze. His face became pale and his hands shook, every muscle in his body as tight as a bowstring. Never in his life had he seen king Oliver that scared. Like he was about to see his worst nightmare.

It didn't hold for long, the king forced himself to relax almost immediately and took very clearly measured breaths. But there was still a slight tremble to his hands and neither did the ashen sheen change. Tim, apparently, wasn't the only one who'd noticed before he hid it, either. Everyone on their side gave him concerned glances, though no one dared ask directly.

Bruce, though. Bruce was the most interesting. At first, he looked at king Oliver with the same startled concern as the others. Then, suddenly, it turned to horror and realisation. His head snapped back to the door.

Whoever Phantom had brought, Tim realised, he had a connection to king Oliver. And not everyone in this room was privy to it. Although he had no doubt that Phantom himself had known about it.

Was this an insult towards Star? A threat? What was it? What was the connection between king Oliver and the man entering behind Phantom anyways?

Hating not knowing and desperate for answers, Tim hurriedly tried to figure out everything about the man that he could. He was tall and lanky - no muscles like the other barbarians. Even less than Phantom. Not a warrior, then? Unusual from what Tim knew, but he couldn't say as much for certain. His skin was a little dark for a barbarian, too. More rosy and less deathly pale than most people of the Infinite Lands, even if his many intricate designs hid it well. Nothing about the man rung a bell for Tim.

"And this tardy idiot is chief Plasmius. I apologise for his behaviour, he likes to cause trouble and blame other people for it." There was something dangerous to Phantom's smile now. "But since he knows I'll behead him myself if he repeats what happened last time, he'll behave now. Won't you?"

The man had the nerve to scoff, but still plastered on a smile. "Of course. How could I dare go against your orders?"

The High Chief hissed over his shoulder, and Plasmius clicked his tongue twice in answer. Clearly still annoyed but now visibly calmer, Phantom turned back to them. "This is everyone attending from our side."

"…Plasmius?" king Barry hesitantly repeated, electing to ignore the obvious squabble the two of them had just had, "As in the Chief of Amity?"

The grin on Plasmius's face widened and his red eyes made direct contact with king Oliver's green ones, just for a second. "The very same."

And, ah, that made sense. Amity, one of the few territories lost to the Infinite Lands in the last war, was a sore topic for everyone. After all, there had not been even one refugee from there - there was no saying what had taken place for that to happen. Amity was also where the last king of Star had perished in the war, and where king Oliver had disappeared for years when he was still the crown prince. There must've been at least one unpleasant memory there.

So insult and taunt, then. Hopefully king Oliver could resist retaliating. Though, from how uncharacteristically cowed he looked Tim supposed that wouldn't be an issue. Not right now, at least.

…He'd be worried about the king later. Maybe ask Jason to have Roy keep an eye on him? That sounded like a plan.

"Well met," Bruce said, though the tension in his jaw was telling to Tim. He'd noticed the meaning of Plasmius's presence, too, of course. "I am Bruce Wayne, king of Gotham. These are king Clark Kent of Metropolis, king Arthur Curry of the Atlantean Islands, King Bartholomew Allen of Centrea, King Oliver Queen of Star Kingdom, and Diana Prince, the crown princess of Themyscira and sovereign of the Gateway Region."

"Well met," Phantom echoed politely, the green glow of his eyes focusing on Tim. "And this is…?"

Tim bowed, his best diplomatic smile on his lips. "Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne, your majesty. I am his majesty Bruce's adopted son, the third prince of Gotham."

"A prince of Gotham?" Phantom's gaze turned calculating as he mustered Tim with a curious hum. "That's certainly unexpected…"

Of course. How could he have been so blind? In a room full of sovereigns a simple prince, and not even a crown prince at that, would stick out like a sore thumb. What did the High Chief think of this? Did he assume Tim was here because he didn't trust them? Or that Tim had some kind of blessing they wanted to use against them? If so, he surely couldn't blame the man. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

He had to rectify this, immediately.

"I happened to deliver some documents to my father when your letter arrive, your majesty, and I was curious. I hope my presence doesn't bother you?" Please tell him to get out so he can leave without causing an incident. Please tell him to stay so he can keep protecting Bruce.

The High Chief shook his head, still smiling. "That's not what I was implying at all. Of course you can stay wherever you want - this is your fortress, after all."

And if that changed he would throw Tim to the curb. But that remained unsaid. It was all he could do to try and keep his smile genuine as he nodded.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, finally, Phantom nodded. "Shall we sit and talk, then? Now that introductions are over."

So they did. Sit, that was. Unsure of where this would be going and of what to say, none of them spoke a word. Apparently content with waiting for them to make a first move, Phantom didn't say anything either. It was only when the silence stretched long enough to be rude than Barry cleared his throat.

"Right. So you mentioned you wanted to negotiate…?"

Phantom nodded. "Yes. It's come to my attention that we're, technically, still at war." Oh, that wasn't good. That wasn't a good start at all. "When Pariah was… dealt with-" What a nice way to say 'locked up in a torture chamber and killed upon escape'. "-the fighting did stop, but the war was never officially ended. I'm sure no one wants a repeat of last time, though. I, for my part, feel that fighting is unnecessary."

Arthur gave an only somewhat strangled laugh. "Unnecessary, huh? That's one way to put it, yeah…"

Tim got what he meant. There was no way for the League to win at this time, after all. It was like they'd said yesterday: Unconditional surrender without even fighting was their only way to win in this.

Phantom nodded at king Arthur's words. "Right. So we were hoping to negotiate for peace. An official peace treaty, I mean."

Yes, yes, they knew all that from the letter. It was reassuring to hear it from Phantom himself, sure, but what did he want? What would it cost them? Couldn't he please get to the point and make his demands now?

But next to him Bruce could only nod. "We would appreciate that, yes."

Phantom smiled again. "I gathered. You've been very hospitable, after all."

Was that a slight against them? Tim had heard about the incident at the kitchen that morning. But how was the staff to know they'd expect their breakfast ready at dawn?! Wasn't that just a bit too unreasonable? Then again, of course they could be trying to be unreasonable on purpose. They still didn't know what the barbarians were playing at, after all…

Phantom took a deep breath, face serious as he made eye contact with each of them. Even with Tim. "We were also hoping to establish a trade agreement? To commemorate our new… friendship."

A trade agreement, huh? Sure, let's call it that. What would they give the League in exchange for what they'd get? Their continued existence?

No, no, no. He could fall into hysterics later. No matter how bloody and terrifying the stories he'd heard as a child had been. Right now he had to keep a cool head. King Oliver had already lost his calm, after all. Tim could and would not follow next.

"That sounds acceptable," Diana chimed in.

"It does?"

"Quite."

"Oh. Good? Great! Alright, that's… good to hear."

Ah. He hadn't expected them to agree. So he knew very well how uncontroversial it was to ask for commerce to be established while ending a war in the same breath. But had he thought he'd need to threaten them before they'd agree? Or had he hoped they would deny him and he'd have a reason to snatch the promise of peace away as soon as he'd shown them? Just what was his motive?

"Would you mind starting with the peace treaty…?" Clark asked carefully.

Phantom only nodded. "Of course. Since we are on your lands why don't we start with your, erm, requests."

The way he said it, Phantom didn't mean request. What then? They'd expected to be on the defensive the entire time. For the barbarians to make their demands and them trying to minimise the damage they'd take. And now he wanted them to, what, beg?

Not like they hadn't prepared themselves to do just that, but damn. They hadn't expected him to tell them.

"We'd like to ask for the borders to remain the same as they are now," Diana spoke up, bluffing. Like she hadn't spent all of last night lining out what territories were acceptable to loose and what they would have to protect. "It has been some years since the last war, and we feel that a sudden change to the borders would only cause undue confusion and unrest."

"Oh?" Phantom blinked, seemingly surprised by the request. It made sense, after all there was no way they would agree to that. "I see. What else?"

Ah. So he wouldn't tell them anything, huh? Just let them ramble on and tell them how unreasonable they were later. Well, shit. How were they supposed to know when they had crossed the line, then? Then again, there was no point in challenging it. They were powerless here, after all. Next to him, Tim could see princess Diana balling her fists beneath the table, probably coming to the same conclusion.

"We want an exchange of prisoners. If any of our subjects are arrested within your domain we want them sent back home to be dealt with. Of course that goes both ways." Tension rippled through the air again when Bruce spoke. It was an important request. The one thing they would try to get through no matter what. If they didn't manage to do at least that much… King Oliver had shuddered at the mere thought of leaving even a murderer or a traitor at the mercy of the barbarians.

"I see…" Phantom nodded thoughtfully, glancing towards his brother. The taller man made a bird noise, but Tim couldn't say which bird it was. "Would that also include delivering prisoners that flee across the border? If, for example, one of my subjects escaped from prison and ended up in one of your countries, would you turn them over to me?"

That was… a difficult question. The answer the High Chief would want was obvious, but could they agree to it? What if that person turned out to be imprisoned for something unjust? Something they couldn't agree was a crime? Then again…

"Yes. That would include turning over criminals, too," Bruce nodded gravely.

Phantom hummed again, exchanging a look with his brother. Then he made a motion to continue.

"While we are in each other's domain we are prohibited from taking a life, and it is guaranteed that our lives will be protected." Clark smiled hopefully when the High Chief turned to look at him, and Tim could tell he was trying very hard to not add 'please, sir' to that.

Again, the High Chief didn't say anything, just hummed and looked at them expectantly. Tim started to suspect that it was some kind of intimidation tactic - it was becoming more and more terrifying the longer this went on. Especially with the shadows cast onto his unmoving face by the glowing symbols he wore.

"We want envoys and visitors to be treated with respect," Barry added, clearly unsure whether he was crossing a line. Tim wasn't sure either. "Without… discrimination." Tim knew he'd almost said 'hate' instead. He hoped the High Chief hadn't noticed that rude blunder.

Phantom nodded like he'd expected as much. So maybe not too much to ask for? Usually it decidedly wouldn't be, but this time? They could only hope.

"We'd like to ask you to come to diplomatic meetings unarmed, too. Of course we'd do the same and-"

Arthur was interrupted when the woman the the left of the High Chief - chief Ember, was it? - slammed her hands on the table and stood. "What?" she hissed dangerously, eyes narrowed in a glare.

Before they could even begin to figure out what they'd done wrong, Phantom raised a hand and made a sound in the back of his throat. It sounded a bit like the fox Tim had once seen in the forest behind Drake manor when he'd been out hunting. Chief Ember did not seem any calmer at all, but she did sit back down.

"You might not know this," Phantom said with a strained voice, "but I cannot even begin to explain how rude that was of you. Our weapons are our comrades, our hearts, a part of our souls. Asking us to come unarmed is like asking us to cut off a limb and put on a blindfold every time we come see you."

Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. That was very bad, actually. There was no way they wouldn't retaliate for something so rude. They hadn't known, they really hadn't. But did that matter? This, this was why Tim didn't like going in without intel. Because this was what happened when you didn't have intel. You made stupid mistakes because of a stupid lack of knowledge and incurred anger for being stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

How could they appease the chiefs? How could they even begin to make up for this?

"Oh. Thank you for telling us, we had no idea," Clark, ever the diplomat, smiled apologetically. Bowing his head, the king continued: "Of course we won't ask for something so rude if that's the case. There's nothing like that in our cultures. Please forgive us."

"Hmph!" Ember scoffed, leaning back. But she did seem placated, at least. The other chief appeared to have calmed a little as well. High Chief Phantom still seemed to be in thought, however.

"No armour and light weapons," he finally said. When all he got in return was confused expressions, he sighed. "No armour and light weapons, that's what I could offer. Nothing less. But that much would be acceptable."

"No armour?!" It was Dantrey who cried out at the High Chief's words. "I get why we'd offer light weapons, but no armour is a bit much. That would mean-"

Phantom's glare shut his brother up. "I'm aware. But I expect there won't be a need for armour during diplomatic meetings. Will there?"

Tim shook his head when Phantom looked at him. "Of course not. Thank you for your consideration, your majesty."

"Hm," Phantom nodded, leaning back again. "Anything else?"

Arthur took a deep breath, the shook his head. "No. We talked it over and we think that it's been too long since the war for compensations to be payed."

The surprise on Phantom's face was so obvious that it startled Tim. So far he'd kept his cool and hadn't shown much emotion to anything they'd asked for. But now he didn't even appear to try to be hiding his feelings in regards to that. In fact, he even turned to exchange looks with each of his companions. Not just glances like before, he turned around to look at them and they answered with shrugs and nods.

What were they talking about? It was an entire silent conversation they were having - and none of the Leaguers could understand a single thing.

The most fearsome trait of the northern barbarians is not their strength or the so called blessings they got from their precious dragons. It's the way they communicate with each other in front of everyone without saying a single word, just gestures and noises without sense to anyone else. That quote he'd read many years ago when his parents had first been drafted finally made sense to Tim. He'd thought he had understood then, but now he knew that he hadn't even known half of it.

This was unnerving like nothing he'd ever encountered before.

"No compensation?" Phantom finally echoed, the surprise on his face mirrored by his voice, "You're sure about that?"

King Arthur nodded. It was another bluff, of course. They'd calculated exactly how much each of them would be able to pay. Still, the atlantean king kept his poker face. "It's what we think from our perspective."

For a moment, Phantom only watched him. Then, he hummed again, head tilted to the side. "I see… Well, if that is all?"

Bruce nodded. "It is."

"Then shall we move on to our side?"

Tim gulped as he and the other royals nodded. This was it. This was the moment the demands would finally, finally come.

Phantom smiled. "Well. There are five things we'd like to ask of you…"

Chapter Text

"I see… Well, if that is all?"

The king of Gotham gave a decisive nod. Next to him, the prince kept his smile intact, perfectly polite and unreadable as it had been the entire time. The prince sure was interesting…

"It is," king Wayne affirmed, pulling Danny out of his musings about the pretty prince again.

"Then shall we move on to our side?" He asked, just to make sure it wouldn't be rude. And that they were willing to hear him out at all, too. Fortunately, he received nods from all of them. Really, what a relief!

"Well. There are seven things we'd like to ask of you…" He waited to make sure they didn't oppose. That was about as much as they'd demanded, after all. And Danny kind of was the ruler surrendering here. Even if there technically hadn't been any fighting. Still, he was the one asking them for peace. He wasn't sure how much he was even allowed to demand here.

So far, everything had gone smoothly. Surprisingly so. All their demands had been perfectly reasonable, sometimes even been pretty much the same as he'd intended to ask for. And they didn't even demand any monetary compensation! It had come as a huge surprise, though not an unwelcome one. The coffers of the Infinite Lands were tight, after all.

It's why they needed this so desperately, he reminded himself as king Wayne motioned for him to go ahead.

"First of all, there's the matter of the borders. You said you didn't wish to have them moved. I understand your standpoint, however there is Amity. It's located in the middle of the mountains and sometimes people trespass the border without even noticing. We'd like to ask to move the border so that the rest of the mountain range belongs to the Infinite Realms, too."

Right out of the gates with that one. But it was true, loath as he was to extend Vlad's influence. Still, the chief did have a point when he'd brought it up. Also, there were berries growing on the lower parts of that mountain, medicinal herbs and animals that could be hunted.

It was rediculous to ask for this, really. But he had to at least ask. The Infinite Lands were backed against a corner and even just making sure that the residents of Amity could be self-sufficient would be a game changer. And even if they couldn't gain the rest of the mountain range - even if the entirety of it was completely uninhabited, it was still rude to ask in their position - maybe bringing this up would at least lead to a solution for the constant accidental trespassing.

King Oliver was a kind man. He'd ignored it so far whenever it had happened. If Amity had stayed a part of Star Kingdom he would've taken care of them, Danny was sure. Not like his father who'd left them to fend for themselves no matter how often they asked for knights because of the monsters that crossed the border.

But Amity wasn't part of Star Kingdom anymore. It was part of the Infinite Lands now. And the border would have to be move only by about a mile of uninhabited forest. Surely he wouldn't get too angry about that…?

"Just the mountain?" king Oliver spoke up for the first time since they'd entered. Frankly, Danny was a bit surprised by that. He didn't remember his former regent to be quite so shy with his words… Then again, it had been a couple of years since they'd last met. Years which had included a war, him loosing his father and being up on the throne. Maybe the responsibility had changed him?

It'd be rude to assume, Danny guessed, and this wasn't really the time. Part of him was still wondering, though.

"Yes." Danny nodded again. "We don't need anything beyond that, but it would make border security much easier if the border and the landmark overlapped."

King Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes moved over to where Vlad sat. Weird, they'd been doing that weird thing looking at each other ever since Vlad had entered. Had they met before? Probably. But when? Had it been when Vlad turned into a traitor and took over Amity, or when Vlad had still been an influential merchant?

Hm… He would have to ask Vlad about it later. Then again, he didn't trust Vlad to tell the truth…

Closing his eyes, king Oliver gave a defeated sigh. "I agree. You can have the mountain, we'll move the border posts further south within the month."

Oh. That was surprisingly easy. Then again, Star Kingdom was a beautiful place with a lot of vegetation. The mountain range Amity was located on wasn't really a strategic point and the kingdom wouldn't really hurt for the lack of berries. Maybe the king had decided it wasn't worth being petty over? Even though he surely still held grudges against Vlad for betraying him. Perhaps for the sake of his former subjects?

Touched by king Oliver's show of grace, Danny smiled at him. He wasn't sure what to say, so he merely nodded.

Thank the Ancients, but the rudest request had been dealt with with that. Now for the other five. Well, those and the one he could just drop so he hopefully wouldn't have to back down anywhere else. He should probably just get all of them out there, rip it off like a bandaid.

"Secondly, while we're on the topic of the borders. We want joined border patrols. There's no reason for our side and your side to have separate patrols when we share the border - especially not since we're going to exchange criminals and prisoners anyways. There's no secrets, so this seems a lot more efficient."

Also, the Infinite Lands didn't have the manpower or money to spare to throw together a solid border patrol. Besides, trying to build a station or wall or something on the cursed lands? Yeah, good luck with that. The chances those warriors wouldn't be frozen solid by morning was… very low, actually.

But that wasn't the only reason! After all, fighting together brought you together. Going on patrol with the warriors of a chief you've had a feud with was the best method to make amends and strengthen relationships! Sharing patrol duties was the best way to make friends, it was a tried and true method.

Of course Danny wasn't sure whether they'd be open to such friendly relations yet… But even if they weren't, offering a shared patrol was a good way to show sincerity. And if Danny put the offer out there now, maybe they would accept sometime later. It'd be really great if they could strengthen relations. At least enough that Danny could rest assured this treaty wouldn't collapse in on itself the moment he was gone. This had to last if the Infinite Lands were to recover - and for that there would need to be trust, and mutual care. A feeling of connection. Basically: Everything that you could reach through sharing patrol duties.

It'd been Fright's idea. A very smart one, too. It had been agreed on in unison. Well, except for Vlad, but everyone knew Vlad still wanted a war to happen. So he could stick his silver tongue wherever he wanted, as far as Danny was concerned. It was a good idea, and he wouldn't ruin it.

"Third, we want embassies to be build. Each country in the League gets an embassy in one village of their choosing within the Infinite Lands - and we get one in each of your countries in return."

The ambassadors for that, should they agree, had already been chosen. Wanderers who'd been trained by both chief Dorothea and by Elle. Though, of course, Elle was the only wanderer who'd done her wandering outside of the Infinite Lands. They'd be good at their job, Elle knew tons about the other countries now! Or, well, as much as you could learn by staying in one place for no longer than two days. But that was the way of a wanderer, after all.

An embassy would make diplomatic relationships way easier, anyways, and Elle had seen some on her travels so the League kingdoms definitely had them. This one should work out pretty well. At least Danny didn't see a real reason why they'd refused (he did, they'd come up with dozens of reasons, but he choose to be optimistic, damnit).

"Forth would be treatment. Our titles don't quite translate to yours seamlessly, but you could say that warriors have the same station as a knight, wanderers are about the same as an earl, the chiefs translate to the duke title and their second-in-commands to barons, Dan would be about as high up as an archduke and my sisters about the same as princesses. Loosely translated. I want you to treat them with the same courtesy as you would with other nobles of foreign nations holding the according title. Of course, we will do the same should any of yours ever visit us."

Respect was important, after all. And even if he would fail at the trade agreement, at least he could make sure that his people were treated right. That'd be good, right? At the very least he would have done some good, then.

"Fifth. You mentioned the exchange of prisoners and criminals. But I'd like to bring up one more thing: Refugees. If there are refugees crossing the border for any reason - civil wars, famine, curses, whatever - either side has to accept them and treat them as citizens of their country."

That was pretty to the point, and Danny couldn't really see them refusing to help people desperate enough to run. But it'd be good to have it written down somewhere. If the trade agreement would fall through, or even if it didn't, there was no telling what might happen. The Infinite Lands were holding on for now, but… As bad as he felt to just keep and keep asking, he needed there to be an out for his subject, if bad came to worse.

"Sixth. In case of future… differences of opinion, if you will, between the Infinite Lands and a country of the League. We would like to propose that a different country from the League that's uninvolved in the conflict mediates." Of course it wouldn't be fair, considering that the country mediating would be friends with the country arguing with them. But it was still better than taking to the weapons right away. Still… "Both countries would have to consent to the mediator, as would the mediator themselves of course."

"And lastly, the seventh request: In order to solidify this contract and to make sure that no one…" How had chief Dorothea worded it, again? "disrespects the agreement, we would like to propose a marriage of convenience. One party of the marriage would me myself, the other one of your heirs."

Slowly, Danny breathed out. Beneath the table, Danny wrung his hands nervously. Dan's hand moved to rest comfortingly above them, although the warrior's face did not even so much as twitch. Again, Danny took a breath.

It was all good. He'd said what they were hoping for. It was out there now. And everything had worked well so far - suspiciously well, in fact. It was good. He was doing good. Well… Probably.

This was horrible. Downright awful. Those demand were… were…

'Joined' border patrol, 'embassies' and receiving 'refugees' without questioning it. So basically allowing the Infinite Lands to monitor their surveillance, agreeing to have powerful figures of their country within their borders at all times, sending away some of their own nobles as hostages, and establishing an official channel for the Infinite Lands to send spies into their midst whenever they wanted.

Worse even, now the new High Chief was going on about how the countries of the League should keep each other in check! Mediation, yeah, sure. A warning was what it was. A warning that, should any of them be stupid enough to anger them they would doom their allies alongside them. Because there was no way that the mediator wouldn't incur their anger unless they'd condemn their fellow Leaguer. Maybe not even then. There would always be allegations of favouritism, after all.

They were lucky that they didn't demand more territory than they did, and it was sensible enough to make a written agreement of how titles would translate. But other than that? This was not a peace treaty, it was an occupation. And the worst part? Should they deny now it'd only end the same in a couple of years. And then the Infinite Lands might not allow for their countries to at least make their own requests.

That was probably why they hadn't said anything about the other requests. Why they'd only denied them that one thing. The carrot and the stick.

Oliver wanted to scream. Would have, probably, in any other situation. But he couldn't leave his friends like this. Not with these barbarians and especially not with-

He tried to close his eyes against the pictures flashing before his eyes, memories he'd tried his damnedest to forget. It didn't help. It actually made them worse, so he opened his eyes again.

He was completely useless like this. Oliver resented it, wanted to do something. But Plasmius was right there, and as much as Oliver tried not to look he could feel the man still watching him. Gods, but he hadn't felt this helpless in years. Since before he'd gotten out and taken up a sword alongside Bruce.

He was different now. He was stronger. He was a fighter. He wasn't the same naive boy who'd been…

If he could, Oliver would march over there and cut the man's hand of at the least. If he could, he'd run. Run somewhere far and wide where that devil in human disguise wouldn't be able to find him again.

He couldn't. Not only because his body refused to listen to him about almost anything right now, but because the kid was sitting at the same table. The mere thought to send someone through the same hell he'd escaped from made him want to empty his stomach - so he had to stay. He had to stay between Plasmius and the kid, because even if his body wasn't listening to him and thinking past the memories was getting close to impossible, what he could do was play meat shield if it came down to it.

Taking a shaky breath, Oliver thought about Roy. He couldn't put his son through the same war he'd had to survive. It was the only thing that had even convinced him to sit here. Plasmius was already here, though, and the High Chief himself had wanted that. Had made sure he was in the same room as Oliver, where his presence alone could remind him of-

So, sure. Oliver would agree to the occupation. Let them spy on him and force him into compliance. Just so long as they left his family and subjects in peace. As long as they kept Plasmius away from him and his.

Distantly, a part of him noted darkly that this was probably why the High Chief had brought that man in the first place. To scare Oliver into compliance. To remind him of what would happen if he refused their demands. If he allowed himself to feel angry or outraged by their demands. Some kind of personal torture for him.

Gods, damn him for this! But it was working…

"-make sure that no one… disrespects the agreement," the High Chief said when Oliver finally managed to force himself to listen to him again through the mush in his head, "we would like to propose a marriage of convenience. One party of the marriage would me myself, the other one of your heirs."

No…

Gods, no! That couldn't be happening. Why? Wasn't it enough to torment them, now he had to drag their children into this?

He was an awful man for it, but he prayed someone else's child would be taken. Then again, he knew the others must be doing the very same right now.

If only they weren't so damned powerless…

What?

Sure, it made sense from a strategic point. Marriage arrangements were common enough, especially when it came to treaties. New alliances were often sealed through marriage. In fact, there was nothing wrong with that request.

Except everything was wrong. Because that wasn't actually an alliance. It wasn't actually a treaty. Sure, Phantom seemed intent on keeping the charade up. With the embassies he'd already have enough hostages at his disposal. But if one of them had to give their own child? That was even worse. There was no way they could possibly…

Bruce's jaw was tight in barely restricted anger, king Arthur was glaring with his hand already on the sword at his hip, king Barry was searching each of their faces in panic and Tim was pretty sure that king Oliver had completely stoped breathing. Someone had to deescalate, quickly. But how?

"There's a distinct lack of female heirs in this generation, I'm afraid." Diana spoke up, a tight smile on her face. "And among those not already married or betrothed the only woman of marriageable age would my my niece. And I'm sorry to say this, but as we are a matriarchy she cannot leave with you. Themyscira needs her."

As though he had expected as much, the High Chief nodded calmly. "I see. That's-"

"Actually," Plasmius interrupted his own monarch, "after passing a certain threshold of blessings by the revered Ancients, gender does not matter anymore. The High Chief can just create an egg with magic that can be fertilised in the same way, so a prince would be a perfectly suitable candidate. In fact, I dare think a neverborn heir would be beneficial." The red-eyed man turned to look at king Oliver again. "Personally, I think prince Roy of Star Kingdom would-"

"No…" Tim had never even once heard the king of Star sound even close to that desperate.

But it wasn't king Oliver's whispered plea that had interrupted king Oliver, Tim noticed after a moment. It was the glare that the High Chief's brother sent his way, dagger in hand and pointed toward the chief in question. "The High Chief has ordered you to behave."

Raising an eyebrow, Plasmius scoffed. "Excuse me? Did I say anything wrong?"

"No," Phantom answered coldly. "Just something unnecessary."

Tim wasn't so sure it was unnecessary. He didn't know how the magic was supposed to work or how it was even possible, but it did change things. That gave them new options, after all.

The High Chief was already annoyed now, thanks to Plasmius. He wouldn't take kindly to being rejected now. And Tim had an idea. A horrible, terrible idea that he didn't want to put into motion, but even so as he ran the numbers… It could work. But did he want it to?

After a moment where Plasmius and Dantrey had a silent starring contest, the chief placed his fist on his heart and nodded. Slowly, Dantrey lowered his dagger and seethed it again. He starred at Plasmius for a moment longer before turning to the High Chief and nodding. Phantom, who had not even looked at Plasmius once while any of this took place, nodded back.

"As I was saying," the High Chief continued with a deep sigh, "I understand that you don't wish to arrange a marriage? If that's so, then it's a shame but I suppose we can just stop talking about it."

Oh, no. Seriously, a war declaration over that? Sure, they didn't have a proper reason to refuse the marriage but still! Wasn't that a bit too harsh?!

When he didn't get an answer, the High Chief smiled again. "Well? What do you think."

Diana was silent, king Arthur was still barely keeping from attacking, king Barry looked one surprise away from bolting, and king Oliver still wasn't breathing. Next to him, Tim found his father firmly putting his hands on the table.

"No," he ground out.

But that was no good and Tim had an idea, as much as he may hate it, and, and-

Standing, Tim smiled as brightly as he could. He put his hand against his hand flatly, making eye contact with the High Chief. "What my father means is, no, there's no need for that. We'd be honoured to make an arrangement with you - in fact, I'd like to propose myself for the honourable position of your fiancée, your majesty."

The High Chief looked absolutely bewildered by that, as if it hadn't even crossed his mind that Tim would offer himself up. Something he had in common with Bruce, Tim was sure. Speaking of which, he made a point of not looking at his father. Both because he needed to stay strong and because he knew that Bruce will kill him for this.

Next to the High Chief, his brother started to cough. It didn't sound honest. Another one of their signs, maybe? That theory proved itself when Phantom gave his brother a glare and the man straightened again.

"Shutting up now, sir," he mumbled under his breath, completely stone-faced.

Tim clasped his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. He could do this. He could get through this, he had to. Now, if only he knew what they were saying to each other…

If someone had slapped Danny with a raw fish and told him that was the ghost of a dragon, he couldn't possibly have been more stunned.

They'd accepted? Why?! What could they possibly have to gain from this? Was one of the other demands so unreasonable that they'd rather marry him than agree? But why didn't they just deny both, then?

Next to him, Dan was hiding his laughter by pretending to cough. It didn't sound too convincing, but the asshole did this often enough that you at least couldn't tell he was laughing at Danny in the middle of a high stakes peace negotiation.

Annoyed and still confused, he glared at his brother. Dan, seemingly realising that now wasn't the time, straightened and put on his poker-face.

"Shutting up now, sir," he muttered under his breath. In the silence even a pin dropping would have been as loud as a cannon shot, though, so obviously everyone heard. Danny glared at him a bit more for good measure before turning back around.

The prince of Gotham was still standing, hands now behind his back in polite but casual attention. The smile on his face was still bright, too, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Not sure what to say, Danny hesitated for a moment, just taking in the prince as he waited for Danny's response. "…You want to marry me?"

"If you'll have me, your majesty," came the instant reply. A bit unnervingly quickly, really. How strange.

Danny looked over to where king Wayne looked at his son in horrified surprise. "It seems to me, your father might not agree," he tried.

"Oh, please don't concern yourself with that, your majesty," the answer, just as quickly as earlier came. "He's just surprised I show any interest in marriage at all."

That… was decidedly not what it looked like. Then again, the king of Gotham was notorious for his hard to read and easily misinterpreted facial expressions. Only his family could read him, they said. Even so. "You're sure about that?"

"Absolutely. I assure you, Gotham would be honoured to forge an alliance with you."

Danny couldn't really turn the prince down. He didn't have a reason to, now that Vlad had brought up neverborns. And on top of that he'd been the one to suggest it in the first place…

"Wonderful!" chief Desiree chimed in, apparently noticing that Danny was too baffled to deal with this, "Would you and your father be available to finalise the details of that tomorrow?"

Prince Timothy smiled even brighter than before, bowing quickly. "Of course! I look forward to it."

With that, the Gothamite sat back down. Danny, still a bit overwhelmed by that turn of events, nodded. "Right. And about the rest?"

"We agree." King Curry seemed to be pretty annoyed for some reason. Danny wasn't sure why. It hadn't even been him who'd accepted that ridiculous proposal. "We agree already, Gods damnit."

That… Didn't sound like he wanted to agree. It sounded more like Vlad when he complimented Danny in front of the court after almost getting himself executed for treason again. But why? Was someone pressuring him? He sounded like someone had a knife to his throat…

And even if this was just the king dealing with someone whom he still hated - Danny could understand that, the Infinite Lands had done so much damage to them and started that war out of nowhere. Even if it wasn't fair to hate all of the lands for that; they hadn't been able to keep Pariah in check back then - why were they even agreeing to all their requests so easily? Just like that? No negotiation, no pettiness, nothing? It seemed strange to the young High Chief…

Apparently he wasn't the only one. Because after a moment, Dan cawed like a crow next to him. A trap?

Startled, Danny noticed that he'd just been staring at the king suspiciously for a while and immediately schooled his expression. Towards Dan, he answered with the noise of a fox. Wait.

"So we can set up a document right now?" he asked, just to make sure. Maybe they were just saying they'd agree and then pretend they didn't know anything when it came to actually make it official?

But king Allen gave a nod. "Of course! Do you want us to send for a scribe to fetch ink and paper?"

Danny shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We've prepared some everglowing ink. If it's not written with that it won't be considered a legally binding document in the Infinite Realms. And we wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of that."

Danny couldn't help the way he glanced at Vlad. There'd been suspiciously few attempts of sabotage so far. The only time he'd done anything was when he'd interrupted Danny earlier. But even then, why had he insisted on coming if he didn't have any plans? Danny didn't trust him, so having him where he could see him wasn't a bad thing, really, but it was still strange…

Maybe it had been to make sure he knew about all the loop holes? Probably…

But even when they set up the document, Vlad seemed almost bored. Even as Danny and the other royals signed their names below. Now that he'd started thinking about it, it made Danny really nervous. It wasn't like Vlad. Something was going on, wasn't it? Maybe having him here for the trade agreement was a bad idea, even if he was a former merchant…

Apparently coming to the same conclusion, Dan nodded once the document was dealt with and stowed away. "How about we postpone the talks about trade until tomorrow, too? I'm sure everyone could use some time to relax."

After the League agreed, Danny hurried through the formal goodbyes and made sure to leave quickly. Without him there the chiefs couldn't linger, and he wanted Vlad out of the room as soon as possible. He had a really bad feeling about this suddenly…

Chapter Text

The hug was tight. Desperate. Like Tim would vanish the second either of them let up just a bit. The problem with it was that, actually, that was exactly what would happen.

Not that the hug would change anything.

"Why?" Bruce's voice sounded broken, faint. His arms were trembling, his eyes shut tight against the reality of what had just transpired.

In his arms, secure for perhaps the last time in his life, Tim sighed. "I…" His voice sounded just as broken as Bruce's, he noted. Bruce's hold tightened a little. "Someone had to. You saw how angry his subordinate made him. He said- He was about to call the whole thing off, B! I just couldn't let that happen."

He was right, was the hell of it. Bruce, too, had been desperately searching for a solution. For something to say so that they could avoid the worst outcome.

Of course then he'd still thought that the worst outcome would've been another war. Not his own precious son offering himself up on a silver platter.

"It didn't need to be you."

Tim's laugh sounded so empty that it sent a sharp pain right through his heart. "It did. It really did, B. What was I supposed to do? Offer up someone else's child? You saw what it did to king Oliver just to be in the same room as them! King Arthur was about to start that war himself, and princess Diana would've done the same. Or did you expect king Barry to turn over the child he rescued from his abusive brother-in-law? We were the only option."

Pulling away slowly, heartbreaking inch by nauseating inch, Bruce looked into Tim's eyes. So much like his own and yet so different. "Tim, I would've rather seen the world go up in flames again than loose you."

There were tears in his son's eyes, even as he tried to make a mocking expression. "You'd rather loose all your children than just one? Besides, it's not like you're sending me off to die."

But he might as well be. Bruce didn't say anything, just pulled Tim back into the hug. Because there was nothing to say. There was no telling what would wait for Tim under Phantom's rule, or even whether it'd be better than death at all.

Tim was right, too: Bruce was buying the safety of his other children with Tim's life. If this war would've been anything like the last, the Infinite Lands would not have stoped until all of them had been killed off. It was horrible, but the price for the life of his family was one of his sons.

"I'll go to him and beg him to spare you," Bruce found himself whispering into Tim's hair. He meant it. He'd offer up his own life if it got Tim out of this.

But Tim stepped out of his arms, ignoring the broken sound Bruce made at the loss. "It's already written down in the contract. With everglowing ink no less - you can't change that anymore. And on that note, I'll need your help to convince the others."

An arrow to the heart would've hurt less. Bruce could tell, he'd once miraculously survived such an injury. "You want me to tell your siblings that it's a good idea to send you to… to…"

He couldn't finish that thought. Thankfully he didn't have to, either. Tim shook his head. "I need your help convincing them not to try and take my place."

And, oh. Oh, he hadn't even considered that, but… Yes. Yes, they would.

"None of them can do it," Tim continued, eyes still red but face already thoughtful as he paced in Bruce's office, "Dick wouldn't last a week being treated like… Well, whatever they treat political hostages bound to them by marriage over there. Jason would cause an incident and get himself killed before the wedding was even over, not to mention how angry they would become if they found out he doesn't have a blessed bloodline! Duke is too new to the royal life, he'd be completely unprepared. And Damian, even if he wasn't way too young, is not only the only one of us who has your blessed blood, he might also awaken the blood of the Al Ghul family after all. We can't possibly risk that."

Bruce knew that those were good reasons. He also knew his son, however, so he could say with absolute certainty that he'd only just come up with these reasons just now. The only and most important reason why Tim didn't want any of his siblings to take his place was that he felt the same as Bruce did in this regard: That nothing would hurt as bad as to loose one of them, or not to know them safe.

"Barbs and Steph aren't even official members of the royal family, and Cass is still away for her studies, so at least we won't have to worry about them," Tim muttered, more to himself than to Bruce. When he turned around, there was a fire to his eyes that was so stubborn and so selfless and so distinctly Tim that it took Bruce's breath.

"But I can do it, B. I know I can. I'll marry him and play the part, and I'll gain as much knowledge and influence as possible." Tim let out a small self-deprecating chuckle. "It's what I was raised to do, anyways."

It was. The Drake archduchy hadn't raised him as an heir but as a tool. Someone to be married off so he could serve the family, the perfect doll for a rich lady to gain status as the family gained power and money.

It'd been horrible. When he'd first come to live with Bruce the boy had been startled by the mere thought of getting to choose what he'd like to learn in his studies, or even do in his spare time. It had taken months to make him open up enough to share what his interests actually were rather than just what he thought they should be. A year until he'd confidently asked for things he wanted.

Many years to get where they were now. To where Tim would hole up in the library or his study for hours on end for one of his projects, spilling papers everywhere and creating an elaborate set-up he deemed sufficiently spaced out to see all the information he needed. To find him passed out somewhere around the castle after multiple sleepless nights, claiming it was because it had been so comfy there and not because of the sleep deprivation. To where he would spent an entire night painting his portraits from memory, detail after detail. To where he would go on rants about everything and nothing just to stop himself in the middle of it once he'd had an epiphany that remained unknown to the rest of the world. To where he would implement the most outrageous and brilliantly insane strategies, asking for forgiveness and never permission.

They might loose all of that progress, Bruce realised with a sinking feeling. But also, yes, if any of his children could do it it would be Tim.

Years ago, when he'd met the archduke's heir outside a ball in the pouring rain, Bruce had thought he could give him something better. He'd thought he could give him a life of freedom, a life he deserved. It's why he had taken him away from his old family and to his new home. But instead he had only dragged him into his mess, and now he would use him the same way the Drakes had always intended to do with him.

Bruce had truly and utterly failed Tim.

"Survive," he pleaded his son, "I promise we'll stop at nothing to get you back. All of us, we won't waste the time you bought us and we'll figure this out. I swear we will find a way. So, please, Tim, son, please, just stay strong and survive until then. No matter what you have to do, you have to survive."

"That's it. I'm going to die."

Dan, who'd just managed to get his laughter under control, burst into laughter again. Asshole. He should've brought Elle instead, she wouldn't have- Actually, yes, she would've.

"Dan!" He couldn't deny that he was whining a bit. "This is serious."

"Right," his brother answered, still trying to get his breathing under control and with a smirk on his face. "Very serious. And completely unexpected. I mean, who could've ever guessed that proposing for marriage would lead to an engagement. That's absurd, very strange, absolutely unforeseeable."

Danny only glared at him for a bit. Then, he groaned and collapsed onto his bed next to his brother. Covering his face with his hands, he asked: "Is this abuse? Is the king of Gotham abusing his son by allowing this? I mean, even I wouldn't send my child to the Infinite Lands right now if given the choice, and I'm the one running the place!"

He thought the question was justified, but judging by the deadpan look that Dan sent his way he held a different opinion.

"You know our situation, Dan," he sighed, looking at the ceiling. It was nice. They'd painted it to look like the clouds at sunset. "The Lands are blocked off from anyone else by the cursed lands. There's so much magic in the air that we've got daily problems with monsters, weird side effects and sentient food or plants. The weather is harsh and we don't get a lot of produce. And in that situation, Pariah decided to make an enemy out of the entire continent at once. He burned down anyone who spoke up against him, took what little food and wealth was stored up to finance his war and used curses left and right like they were just silly little magic tricks. So not everyone trusts me yet. Worse, some don't even like that I don't continue Pariah's war. And the rest is so convinced that I belong on the throne that they'd fight anyone about it."

"Things could be better," Dan admitted, "but we're doing okay. We're not the continental enemy number one anymore, either, after the peace treaty. And yo- The Fenton knightdom managed to build a bridge from Amity high enough to not be affected by the Infinite Lands. One or two people can travel safely across now. Those who don't trust you start to see the good you're doing and those who don't like you started to fear you long ago. And as for the sentient food? You get used to that. If you manage to get that trade agreement, we won't be as strapped for food and material anymore either."

Danny hummed, not really convinced. "You think they'll agree to the trade?"

"Don't see why they wouldn't. There's not a lot of magic items over here, even less than we'd thought. Some potions can't be mixed unless they get access to the plants living within our borders. We, on the other hand, need materials we can actually use and food we can stock up on without fear of being bitten back. It's a win for everyone."

There was a beat of silence. Then, Dan added: "Besides. So far they've been…"

Dan kept searching for the right word, but Danny knew what he meant. Nodding, he sat back up. "It's suspicious, isn't it? They've been nice and really polite and helpful, they went along with what we wanted even though they didn't ask for much more than the obvious."

"Yeah… Any idea why they're so eager?"

Danny shook his head. "No idea what Vlad's planing either."

"He seemed interested in that one royal. The one from Star Kingdom? Orleans or something. And the prince, too. Raj?"

"King Oliver Queen, and his only son prince Roy Harper. I noticed." Danny stood. There was a window in the room they'd given him, and he could see the northern wing from here. The knights were sparring in the courtyard, some light work-out by the looks of it. And behind that were the chambers of the royals of the League who'd attended.

He could see the king of Star Kingdom and the princess of Themyscira talking in front of the entrance. As he walked over to the window, he could've even sworn he made eye contact with her for a second. "There's a story there."

"Want me to ask?" Dan offered. Absently, Danny nodded. "Whom? The little king or the little shit?"

Danny considered for a moment. "Ask his majesty. I trust his word more than Vlad's. But… Be gentle, Dan. We don't know how sensitive the matter is. With Vlad involved…"

"It's probably messy, yeah. Want me to get rid of the ceremonial paint before I go?"

Turning around, Danny smiled at his brother. "That'd probably better, yeah. Casual's the best approach, I think."

Stretching his arms above his head, he let out a yawn. The meeting earlier had been incredibly boring. Honestly, he was glad they'd cut it short. Now he got a break, at least, even if that meant he had to go through even more the next day. Urgh.

Politics weren't his thing. Hadn't ever been, really. He was better suited for combat against monsters, for leading warriors or for hunting trips. Danny, on the other hand, was a lot better at the whole complicated messy stuff with all the words and rules and such. Dan didn't know how he did it, really, but he did. And from what Dan could tell, he was doing a pretty good job.

Danny didn't want any fighting. For such a great fighter, he was a pretty squeamish guy. Didn't tolerate any infighting either. But he could do what he needed to do, though. Ancients, he could be brutal when he lost his cool - Ha! - and got serious about hurting someone. And, well, even if it wasn't really his style Dan still had to admit that it worked. People trusted the little guy, followed him and believed in his decisions. Well, most people, that was.

Vald had Amity in a pretty tight hold. For that alone, Dan couldn't stand the guy. He wasn't even sure why that man still had to be alive. And a chief at that. That traitorous bastard had hurt Danny so much, schemed against him and didn't even show any remorse. Yet Danny insisted on keeping him around.

Again: Squamish kid.

Dan generally didn't think Danny had that good a feeling for people. There were a lot of bad influences around him. People who had hurt him before, too. Point in case: Dan was traveling with him. And, sure Dan had changed. But he also knew that not everyone changed. The kid was too gullible. He could use some paranoia in his life.

To his right, Dan could see some knights doing some light training. Probably didn't want to show their usual training with all those foreign eyes around. Still, you couldn't stop training just like that. Among them, Dan could see the knight from earlier there. The one who'd stood guard during their meeting. Gorgon or something like that - he'd briefly introduced himself to them. Wayne's knight, and from the way he stood by and observed he was pretty high up.

Talking about paranoia, he suddenly remembered, the Gotham royalty was pretty renown for theirs. Maybe the little prince would help with that. But princy himself was suspicious, too. He was… Dan couldn't quite lace his finger on it, but the guy's smile was off for some reason. And the way he'd watched them all before he'd first spoken.

He was a fox, that one. Funny, considering how a fox noise meant "wait". Wait and watch out, to be more specific, wait for now and what happens. Wait for the next command.

So many people to watch out for… And they just kept on rising in number. Maybe he should do something about that? But Danny didn't want him to. What a predicament.

He put those thoughts on hold for now when he saw the man he was looking for enter… the stables? Looked like that building by the side would be the stables. Huh.

Well, at least they would be pretty much alone. And Dan would be able to tell whether he'd crossed a line, since animals were very empathic. He wasn't too sure that he'd notice otherwise.

Nodding to himself, Dan followed the king into the stables.

"King Oliver," Dan called when the other didn't seem to notice his presence. By the way he'd flinched, he really hadn't. How strange. Wasn't he a trained fighter, too? He really must've been deep in thoughts, then. "Your majesty, my brother wanted me to have a few words with you."

Wearily, the man looked Dan up and down. "About?"

"Plasmius and…" He was about to say how you reacted to him earlier. But, yeah, no. Just Vlad, really. And even he could tell that that would've sounded a bit accusatory. He was supposed to be gentle with the royal. So he just asked instead of finishing his sentence: "What happened?"

Suddenly, the king's face lost all traces of the earlier nervousness. It was blank when he shook his head. "I assure you, that's not necessary."

Surprised, Dan raised an eyebrow. "It's not?"

The king shook his head vehemently. But why? Dan and Danny were trying to help him. Make sure Vlad wouldn't hurt him or something. Didn't he see that? Or maybe he thought they couldn't? Which, honestly, would be pretty insulting to think about the High Chief and his brother. As if Danny didn't have a tight enough grip on his subjects.

"Do you know why he sent me?" Dan asked, just to make sure.

"It's obvious," the king answered, jaw tightening. "But I assure you, that won't be necessary. There's no need to drag up the past."

Dan frowned. The past? Well, looking at the way the king had reacted to Vlad earlier, that was a lie. "Is it in the past, though? Is it really?"

"Yes." If Dan didn't know any better, he would've thought that the king's voice sounded almost desperate. And he didn't know better, so he noted that in the back of his head. "And I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes for it to stay that way."

Hm. Usually, Dan wouldn't give up just like that. But Danny had told them time and time again that they should not provoke them under any circumstances. So he probably shouldn't pry, this time.

Still, it felt weird to leave it just like that. Leaning against the door in an attempt to be less imposing despite his large statue, Dan looked at the king searchingly. He still seemed shaken, pretty on edge. The horses were reacting to the man's nerves, too. And that just wouldn't do. He should at least calm him a bit, probably. Right?

Nodding once to himself, Dan looked the king in the eyes. "My brother keeps his people on a tight leash if he doesn't trust them," he informed him, "But he'd never turn away from his allies. Loyalty is just important to him like that."

"Yes," the king answered slowly, "Loyalty is important to me, too."

There was a pause. And usually Dan didn't have an issue with silence, but he felt it would be rude to just leave and the silence felt heavy for some reason. Grasping for something to say, Dan looked around. "Where you going somewhere, your majesty?"

The king was silent for a moment, then he quietly said: "I was… going to return home. For my health."

For his health? Suddenly worried, Dan frowned. "You're returning? Even though there's another negotiation tomorrow? You must be in a lot of pain."

The king gripped the reigns of the horse he was standing in front of a bit tighter. "Am I really needed there, sir? The others will surely suffice."

Humming, Dan leaned back again. "You don't want to have a say in what they decide on?"

There was another pause. "I'd- I'm just really in need of some rest. Whatever gets signed tomorrow, I'm ready to accept it. So… I'd like to leave."

That sounded bad. Dan didn't know much about politics, and especially not here in the south. But even he knew that no chief would have just left and trusted the other chiefs to work in their best interest, not for something as big as this. So if the king could, he probably would stay.

That meant whatever was ailing him was real bad, huh? Maybe they should give him something to help him recover? They were allies now, strictly speaking. Danny had said you should help your allies however you could, right? But by the way the king had griped the reigns tighter, Dan figured he didn't want to talk about his ailments. Probably didn't want to show his weakness to someone who was, by all accounts, still a stranger. Finding the right thing to give for someone whose problems you didn't even know was hard, though. You might even do more harm if you got it wrong!

The south wasn't big on alchemy, either. Just like magic tools, they had surprisingly little of that here. They must've been truly great warriors if they could protect their lands even without. Dan had to admit he was secretly a bit impressed by them, even. Still, that meant the king wouldn't know enough about alchemy to figure out if Dan got it wrong.

Humming again, Dan finally searched in the pouch he always carried with him. There wasn't much in there, but he liked to have a couple of potions with him at all times. Just in case he really needed them. For worst case scenarios. One to heal burns, one against poison, one to replenish blood, two against external wounds - and one against pain.

When he found it, Dan took out the glowing green vial. There was just one portion of potion inside, just enough for one person. He didn't like the thought of separating with it, but if the king was in so much pain that he had to leave in the middle of the whole political she-bang…

"Here." He waled over, pushing the glass vial into the king's hand. The king only blinked at him in confusion, so Dan figured he couldn't tell what it was. "A potion," he said, just in case that wasn't clear yet, "To help against your pain. It sounds like you need it. It'll lessen any physical pain for about a day, but it won't help with healing or anything like that. But at least you should make it home. After all, you must feel truly horrible, to leave in the middle like this. "

For some reason, the king didn't look relieved. Instead, he paled. Did he dislike Dan knowing how weak he was at the moment? Or did he know about how dangerous taking potions for the wrong ailment could get?

Taking a deep breath, the king gave a shaky smile. "So you believe me, then?"

Confused, Dan huffed out a laugh. "There's no reason why you would've lied to me, after all. Is there?"

Another pause, eyes locked onto the vial.

"It's not that bad," he insisted, as if the opposite wasn't already obvious, "I… I can stay. If your High Chief insists."

Shaking his head, Dan took a step back. "Nah. That's fine. You're in pain, right? So go. Rest. You need it."

Another strange pause. "Is that what he said? To give me this, and to let me go?"

"Not really, but…" Dan wanted to make Danny proud of him. And Danny always wanted for Dan to become more empathic. More kind. So. "When I tell him later, he will approve."

"Oliver? And you're… The brother of the High Chief, right?" A woman's voice suddenly called from behind Dan. When he turned, it was that princess from earlier. The one from that one island. How had Dan not noticed her sooner? Then again, Danny had mentioned that the woman there were all skilled warriors… Interesting.

Looking towards her from over his shoulder, Dan smiled. "I guess I am."

"What are you doing here?"

Confused, Dan raised an eyebrow. "Are we not supposed to leave our quarters?" Because if so, no one had told them yet. And if they just assumed that something like that was an understood thing, what else had they not said?

But the princess only pressed her lips tightly onto each other. "My friend isn't feeling well. I'm concerned that your… conversation might be too much for him alone."

Ah. Not because he was here but because he was pestering a sick royal, then. Nodding, Dan turned to her fully. "Yeah, so he said. Well. It's a good thing we're done anyways, then. I'll go and relay everything to my brother, then. Farewell for now, I guess."

When none of them said anything, Dan just mentally shrugged and made his way back towards Danny's room.

Well, he mused to himself as he passed by the knights again, that went pretty well. All things considered. He usually did a lot worse, at least. Huh. Look at that, Dan was getting better at this whole thing.

Nice.

Chapter Text

This was necessary. Tim just had to remember that, keep reminding himself. It was necessary to do this, and it was necessary that it was him who did it.

A couple of rooms over, Princess Diana, King Barry and King Arthur discussed the trade agreement with some of the chiefs. Chief Ember and Chief Desiree from yesterday, as well as Chief Dorothea whom they'd only met today. She seemed to have a high standing with their High Chief, considering that he put her in charge and explained that she hadn't attended yesterday since she'd been needed to "kept the rest in line".

The head of the Royal Guard stood just outside the door behind Tim. Which was fine. Not terrifying at all. He had no idea why that would make B as tense as he was, Tim certainly wasn't that tense. Nope. Everything was good. It was fine. After all, this had to happen.

He took a deep breath, but slowly so that it wasn't as obvious. He had keep up his pleasant facade, after all. Even if he just wanted to scream.

Tim himself was alone with B, the High Chief and Dantrey. Phantom's brother. His soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Oh, gods!

It was fine. It was. Really.

He was the price they had to pay for the sake of peace.

It was an act of political sacrifice.

He could do this.

He had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Tim gave his best smile. "Did you have anything specific in mind for the wedding?"

Phantom hummed. "From what I know, our wedding traditions differ. A lot. So I think it'd be best to hold two weddings. Once here, in your tradition, and once when we return home, according to ours."

"Oh?" Tim asked, trying to disguise his fear as curiosity. "They're very different, then?"

Dantrey scoffed. "You could say that again," he muttered.

After a quick glare towards his brother, Phantom turned to them with a thoughtful gaze. "We usually hold our weddings in front of the guardian Ancients. Mine are Clockwork, the son of Novitate, and Frostbite, the son of Cael."

Ah. So now they were just casually calling out the names of the gods, then. As if it was a given that neither the Goddess of Change nor the God of Weather would mind. Great. Not making Tim uncomfortable at all. Nope.

He'd have to get used to this, didn't he?

Letate, grant him strength…

"Usually you just get to have one guardian Ancient," Dantrey butted in, "but the two of them argue about who gets to claim that title all the time, so now they're sharing. Because he's just special like that."

Shit.

Okay. So two very powerful dragons that the Infinite Lands prayed to as if they were the gods were arguing about whom Phantom belonged to. Good to know. That was… fine. Yeah. No problem at all. Great! Who's freaking out? Certainly not Tim.

"Right," Phantom continued, obviously a bit peeved at the interruption, "Anyways, we'd get married in front of the two of them. We ask for their blessing and offer an empty chalice. Then they extract a bit of magic from each of us and fill the cup with it. Under their eyes, we add and erase pieces of each others ceremonial paint, so that we have a new, matching design at the end composed out of our prior ones. After that, we both swear an oath to stay by each other and drink the mana from the chalice to seal it. In the end, we cut each other's hair."

That… Sounded more like an ominous magic ritual than a marriage, really. And what was that last part?

As if he could read Tim's thoughts (Was there a blessing like that? Tim hoped not, he couldn't afford to have to be careful of what he thought on top of everything else) Dantrey chimed in again: "Hair holds memories. If you cut it, you separate from whatever happened to create those memories. That's why in the rite of marriage, you cut away the life that came before you."

"And… The thing with drinking mana?" Did Tim really just dare ask?

Phantom shrugged. "Sharing mana forges a connection. On one hand, you can always feel when the other is still alive. On the other, you won't be able to attack them. Physically. You physically won't be able to hurt your spouse."

"I did that, too. So did Frighty out there-" Dantrey pointed to the door looming behind Tim, as if he needed a reminder of who was waiting outside should he be stupid enough to run. He wasn't, but he also understood that these two didn't know that yet. "-Since we're both in charge of the warriors. Dajelle, too… Point is, we drank his mana but he didn't drink ours. Which means we can't hurt him and he'll know the second we need to be replaced." Something passed through the warrior's eyes then. Something dark and calculating. "The ambassadors will probably have to do the same."

Was that a threat? It sounded like a threat, or a warning at the very least. But Tim couldn't quite figure out what it was. The way Dantrey was looking at B very clearly conveyed "So don't try anything stupid." but something stupid like what? Did he mean to say trying to turn them into traitors would be futile? But that was obvious already, wasn't it?

Bruce, neutral mask still in place but a hint of the same confusion Tim felt in his eyes, nodded once. "I see. Very well."

It must've been enough for Dantrey, as he leaned back with a satisfied hum. Not even the High Chief's glare discouraged him, for some reason.

Loyalty is important to him. That's what King Oliver had told them Dantrey had said. And he'd never turn away from his allies. The warrior must've been really convinced of this, if he could act so carelessly around the most dangerous man currently alive.

The way Phantom just sighed, rolled his eyes and let whatever offence Dantrey had just committed go - vastly different than his reaction to Plasmius yesterday, even though the chief was also an ally of his - spoke in Dantrey's favour. Tim would do well to remember that. He would do well to remember everyone Phantom trusted to that extend. He couldn't afford to make them his enemies, after all. If Phantom trusted them that much, forgave them that much then Tim would be at their mercy as much as he'd be at Phantom's - and making them too angry might even doom Gotham.

Don't shiver. Don't let them see - no one cares about your feelings anyways, so don't show them that weakness. Keep smiling instead. It looks far prettier, and it lowers their guard.

Who would've ever thought his mother's teachings would come in handy at a time like this, huh? Tim wanted to cry… He knew better than that, though.

"Who is Dajelle?" he found himself asking instead.

"Oh, Elle? She's my younger sister." Phantom smiled fondly. "A wanderer through and through. She even managed to get elected as their head. Such a strong girl, and wicked smart. You'll see when you meet her, probably as soon as we reach the Infinite Lands. I think you'll like her."

So, the princess he'd spoken of yesterday. That made Phantom, Dantrey and Dajelle. Was that the entire royal family? He wondered, and he hated that he wouldn't have to keep wondering for long.

"I look forward to it," Tim lied.

"It will still be a while, though," B interjected. To Tim's ears he sounded panicked, but he highly doubted anyone else here would notice. At least he hoped not. "After all, weddings do take a lot of time to prepare."

"True…" Phantom hummed, looking up. "We'll have to prepare some things, too. I'll have to send some letters to have them start on that. And we'll need to prepare a royal ceremonial paint in your colours. Come up with a design for your family, too, since you don't have one yet… Actually, you can do that one with your family. Go ahead and do whatever you like with it. We'll take care of the paint in the meantime. On that note, what is your blessing, again?"

Tim was so glad he had his parent's bloodline right now. Like he'd told B yesterday, they would've found out if he didn't have one - and they would've been really angry, no doubt. Now the only thing left to do was hope that the blessing was good enough for the barbarian royal.

"The Drake family was blessed by the god Astri with Sleep Negation." It wasn't anything spectacular or flashy, but it came in handy. And it was better than no blessing at all. At least that that's what he told himself as Phantom looked at him thoughtfully.

"Astri… That's the God of the Night, right?" Tim gave a faint nod. "So Nocturn's father. That means we'll need black ink. Making a paint that glows black, sure, why not." He sighed, leaning back. "It's possible, but it'll take a while. And Nocturn really doesn't like his father, so I doubt he'll take on the role of your guardian Ancient. Are you fine with not having one? You do have your god, after all, but… I could try to convince Nocturn, if you like?"

Right. Because Tim would absolutely ask for a favour regarding one of those dragons, of course. What a nice way to make him owe them. Ha! "No, thank you. I'll be fine."

Phantom looked at him for a bit more, then hummed. "You're sure? Remember, the gods' influence dosen't reach to the Infinite Lands. Your prayers probably won't be heard…"

Which was why the barbarians prayed to a bunch of old dragons they claimed were their children, yes. They claimed the gods didn't have influence behind the cursed lands because it was the territory of their children after some sort of holy war. Everyone knew about that. Whether those dragons actually were the children of the gods was another matter, but… Yes. It was a fact that the Infinite Lands were a godforsaken land, in the most literal sense of the word.

What luck, then, that Tim had never been a man of strong faith. He might invoke the name of the gods and pay them respect, just to be sure, but it wasn't like he prayed anyways. Not seriously, at least.

"I'm sure," he said with a voice that was surprisingly stable.

Again, Phantom hummed. "Well, if you're sure. Do tell me if you change your mind, though." When Tim nodded, the High Chief looked somewhat appeased. "Right… So, about having two ceremonies?"

Tim nodded. "I'm fine with that. But, like my father said, I fear we will have to take some time to prepare…"

He hoped they'd allow it. Hoped Bruce had been right earlier and that this would maybe buy them some time before Tim would have to leave. Sure, he would spend the entirety of it dreading his inevitable departure, but it would be time to spend with his family. To say his farewells.

"I understand that," Phantom slowly nodded, "Like I said, there's some preparations we have to take care of on our side as well. However, both me and Dan will be needed in the Infinite Lands during the solstice next moon. With the travel time we can't stay in Gotham for much longer. It'll be half a moon until we've dealt with the monster wave that comes with a solstice, too. And a journey through the cursed lands is never easy, so coming back would take a long time to prepare, too. Not to mention the time needed to actually travel back to Gotham…"

Or maybe not.

Letting out an empty chuckle, Tim waved his hand. "Well, in that case we can just have a small ceremony, then. We'll get ready within the month."

"But, like my father said, I fear we will have to take some time to prepare…" Prince Timothy smiled apologetically at Danny as he said as much, and Danny felt just a bit bad for being relieved.

He couldn't go back on his word and he was already in the middle of preparing a marriage arrangement. Dan had helped him prepare all of last night, as had Dorothea. But he still wasn't ready for this. Like, at all. The preparations were a good reason to delay the marriage, right?

"I understand that. Like I said, there's some preparations we have to take care of on our side as well." It was true, but also not really. The paint would be a pain to make, but that was the most elaborate thing. The weddings in the Infinite Lands didn't take so long to prepare, less than a week. Which the prince would definitely find out soon into moving. But maybe he could find some other reasons why it would take longer?

"However, both me and Dan me will be needed in the Infinite Lands during the solstice next moon. With the travel time we can't stay in Gotham for much longer." So it would take a while before they could get started with the preparations.

"It'll be half a moon until we've dealt with the monster wave that comes with a solstice, too." And everyone knows you can't plan a wedding while you fight! Obviously.

"And a journey through the cursed lands is never easy, so coming back would take a long time to prepare, too." Which means it'll take even longer. You can't have a wedding with one person still scheduled to arrive, right? And who was to say checking the preparations five times just to make sure was too much? It was a dangerous journey, after all~

"Not to mention the time needed to actually travel back to Gotham…" And Danny had run out of reasons why it could possibly take longer. Shit. Well, this much should be enough to stall for a while, at least.

The prince let out a dry chuckle. Apparently, Danny had overdone it. Or at least he thought the prince didn't want to wait that long, because with a wave of his hand he simply answered: "Well, in that case we can just have a small ceremony, then. We'll get ready within the month."

"Great," Danny answered, trying not to show how much he forced that word out, "That solves the problem, then."

"It does," King Wayne agreed, voice icy. Urgh. He really didn't like that Danny had been trying to gain more time, huh? Then again, if someone asked to marry his son and then tried to avoid the actual marriage Danny would've been annoyed, too, to put it mildly.

Giving a sheepish smile, Danny decided to just move on. He didn't feel like dwelling on that, lest he step on more toes.

"Right. So, two marriage ceremonies, the first one here within the month and the other in the Infinite Lands after our return. You would become my second in command by proxy, your highness, but I'd like to put off the official coronation until after the monsters have been dealt with. It's a rather hectic time, so…"

"The… coronation?" Huh? Why'd the prince sound so confused? Was there no separate coronation ceremony for a royal's spouse here? Danny couldn't remember whether there was one…

Deciding to explain just in case, he nodded. "Yes. While your title would already be in effect there's still some official things to take care of after the wedding. Receiving your crown, for example. As well as the oaths of the chiefs and you appointing your personal guard. You would get your own order of warriors, too, and- Actually, do you want to take some knights with you for that? Or you could choose some warriors from the Lands."

"I… I get my own personal order or warriors? Like a knight order?"

Danny nodded, wondering what about that had been so confusing.

"And you won't mind if I take some of our knights with me for that?"

Again, Danny nodded. "Would you like to?"

"I… May I think about it some more and reply at a later point?" Again with that nervous smile. How could one person have so many different smiles?

Danny nodded again. "Of course! You can decide anywhere up until your coronation. After that, you can add and cut out warriors as you like. But cutting them out is a pretty bad insult, basically. Adding them would need to be the reward for some major achievement, too. So you should be sure about your decision by the time of the coronation. Take all the time you want until then. Anyways, they will all swear themselves to you and - because they'll be your personal order or warriors - receive a magic artefact that allows them to always hear your commands. Well, to make them out despite the noise, really. The artefacts aren't suitable for long distance communication."

The prince nodded again, taking everything in. Then, after a moment of silence, he glanced between Dan and Danny. "I- What about the, uh… dowery?"

Dowery? Oh, right… Since prince Timothy was set to leave for the Infinite Lands and join Danny's family Gotham would probably be expected to send the dowery, right? Honestly, Danny felt a bit bad about taking anything. But the Lands were hurting for money, they didn't have the option to turn it down. Still, this all just felt so much like he was buying the prince…

Danny really, honestly didn't like the whole arranged marriage thing. Hopefully his disgust wasn't visible on his face, though he somehow doubted he was able to mask it entirely.

"The dowery," he repeated, "Right. What did you have in mind?"

The prince and the king exchanged a quick glance. It was the king who answered this time: "250,000 ducats."

And Danny promptly forgot how to breathe. What even was air? Why did you need that? Why did anyone need that?

Blankly, too overwhelmed to even feel any emotion right now, he asked, just to make sure: "What."

"I said I'd give you a dowery of 250,000 ducats," the king of Gotham repeated as if that wasn't an absurd amount of money, "And I can also have some velvet sent to you."

He kept going. Why did he keep going? The money alone was worth more then Danny's entire kingdom. Like, what?!

"Some salt and other spices, too."

Was this… The more dowry someone took with them the better they were expected to be treated. Was this a threat? Was Danny being threatened into taking good care of his future husband? Was that a thing?

But… He would've done that anyways!

Seriously, how was he supposed to react here?! That was way too much. Danny's head was swimming just imagining all of that. What… Why… How?!

Did the king and prince notice his panic? Ancients, please, at least let him be able to hide it properly…

His frown deepened.

"And five jars of honey," he hastily added. Honestly, he was this close to telling Phantom to just take Gotham's treasury in its entirety. Anything to make this right.

He could not, under any circumstances, give the High Chief a reason to treat Tim badly. And by the way his eyebrows had scrunched up the moment Bruce had said the number, by the way his frown kept deepening as Bruce kept talking, it looked like Bruce was already failing.

This dowery, obviously, was merely just an excuse to finally ask for compensation. But technically a dowery was supposed to help the one being married away. The more dowery one came with, the better they were expected to be treated. This was a chance to buy Tim a better life until they could rescue him, but also a risk of dooming him. And Bruce was willing to give everything he had just to make sure Tim wouldn't have to suffer, or at least suffer less.

So… what was it that Phantom wanted? If only the man would deign to say it, Bruce would agree. Couldn't he see that? Didn't he know?

Or did he know and this was some kind of game to him? Was Phantom toying with Bruce's heart? That alone would've been forgivable. But in doing so, it would mean that he was also toying with Tim's life, his happiness, his hope. So Bruce desperately hoped to be wrong - because he was powerless to do anything about that, even though it would've been the worst sin anyone could possibly commit in his eyes.

What a pathetic father he was. What a failure of a parent.

"Silk, too, and ivory."

What else? What else did he have to offer? Something the Infinite Lands didn't have, maybe? But what could that possibly be? After all, not much was known about that place. Just that there was a lot of magic and blessings. So what could Gotham possibly give them that they didn't have already?

Nothing that Bruce knew of. And nothing that he could offer without risk of insulting the High Chief even further.

Suddenly, Phantom raised one hand. Glowing eyes fixed onto Bruce's blue ones, pinning him into place like a butterfly on a scientist's board. "That's enough," he said, as though those words weren't an acquittal to the father. As though those two words alone weren't the permission for Bruce to breathe freely again.

"Let’s move on?" Strangely enough, Phantom waited for Bruce to nod before he did. "I’d like prince Timothy to keep his title as prince of Gotham after the marriage. He’d have two titles, then - Prince of Gotham and High Lord of the Infinite Lands.”

Which would make Phantom a prince concubine of Gotham, too. It would add him and his children - gods, Bruce would become a grandfather - to Gotham’s royalty.

Really, though? Anything to keep his son in his family. Anything to keep his toes to home. So Bruce agreed, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Right. And in case of my death," Phantom suddenly said, startling all of them. Even his brother by the looks of it. "I want you to take my siblings and any of our children - hatched or not - with you. Wherever you decide to go. Ah, but both Elle and Dan are exempt from succession, so you would have to hold on to the crown until an heir would be old enough to take over. You may reign from Gotham if you so choose, but regardless, Dan will protect you."

In other words, Tim would not be able to escape just because Phantom died. Assassination would not free Bruce’s son. A warning? Maybe just insurance.

Bruce hoped it was the latter. If Phantom already distrusted them so much, Bruce’s poor son would have very little freedom. And Tim could deal with a lot, but cold stares always got to him.

"Hold up! You actually meant that?" Dantrey sounded genuinely surprised and just a bit appalled at the notion. Not a good sign for Bruce or Tim. "That wasn't just something you said in the spur of the moment?"

"No. I meant it."

There was a tense pause as Dantrey observed Phantom, who in turn didn't break his eye contact with Tim. Dantrey sighed, leaning back. One hand came up to pull back one of his braids. Then, he shook his head. "You're being unnecessarily mean, is all. And also you're a hypocrite. Do you know that?"

"I'm aware."

"Just saying. I mean, you know I'm not big on the whole nicety and morals stick. But this is seriously kind of messed up. Seems pretty unfair…"

"I guess so, if even you think that."

Dantrey sighed again, glancing between Tim and his brother. "So… That's what we're going with, is it?"

"It is."

Bruce wasn't sure why Dantrey thought Phantom was being too much, but it definitely made him want to fight that demand. But could he? Was he even able to do that? How? He didn't have enough time to prepare. He didn't have enough intel, either. It was driving him mad with worry…

"I want to be send back to Gotham," Tim suddenly blurted out. Confused, everyone turned to the young prince. "In case of my death. Could we have my remains send back home?"

Phantom hummed, considering Tim for a moment. "You want to be buried in Gotham?"

"Yes," Tim nodded, a strained smile on his lips. "Please."

"Sure. If you want that?"

Bruce didn't want to even think about it. His child in a grave, that hit way too close to home. But… At least the grave wouldn't be empty this time. At least it wouldn't be too far for him to visit.

When Tim nodded, the High Chief shrugged. "I can put it in the agreement, then. Though you won't have to worry about dying for a long time. If nothing else, I can assure you that you will not go unprotected."

Shivers ran down Bruce's spine at the implications. At the very least, though, now he could rest assured that Phantom had no plans of taking Tim's life. No matter what else happened to him - and Bruce got nauseous just thinking about what that may be - as long as he was alive, Bruce knew neither him nor his other children would ever abandon their efforts to save him from this.

With the flames of his determination rekindled, he almost missed how Phantom and Tim wrapped up the conversation. Dantrey, who had written down everything they'd agreed on, finished his sentence and passed the engagement contract. Carefully, Tim read through it. Then, with a nod, he passed it to Bruce.

Bruce didn't like most of what was written here. But he didn't have the power to change it. There was a knife at his throat, and one pointed at his heart. He could not act rashly like how he wanted to, couldn't doom his entire family like this. He had obligations towards Gotham, too. So, in the end, he cursed his crown like he'd done so many times before - and he signed away his own son.

How he would be able to look at himself in the mirror tomorrow he did not know.

Phantom, too, signed. "I'd like you to be the ones to keep this one, and I'll send home a copy. If that's alright with you?"

"Yes. And, pardon me, but… I think it'd be for the best if my father and I were to travel to Bristol before you. My siblings don't even know about your arrival here yet, so…"

"You would like to warn them," Phantom surmised, nodding along with what Tim said fortunately, "I think that's a good decision. Especially considering the… lingering effect of the last war. We did take care of it only yesterday. I was going to stay back for today and organise my people anyways, if you're inclined to agree?"

"Organise your people?"

"I was going to send them back and have them pass along the news and a couple other messages, except for a couple guards. After all, I hardly think I'll need them in Gotham." He paused, then looked at Bruce like this was an honest question and not some sort of warning. "Will I?"

"Of course not," Bruce quickly defended, "And, please, feel free to do as you must. Do you need me to appoint a guide?"

Phantom shook his head as he stood. "No, we'll make due by ourselves. But thank you for your consideration. But should we go and see what they agreed on next-door?"

Chapter Text

The trade treaty went like this: The Infinite Lands would sell potions, magical artefacts and magical materials to the kingdoms within the League.

The potions they would sell would be limited to those with healing, spell or ability related effects. Any that were harmful, like poisons, curses and the stronger magic blockers, were banned from being sold and bringing them across the border would be considered a criminal offence by both sides.

The magical artefacts would have to be approved by the High Chief himself to be sold outside of the Infinite Lands. In case of longer absences on Phantom's side, the High Lord - in other words, prince Timothy of Gotham - could also issue an approval.

The artefacts deemed too dangerous to be brought into wider circulation could only be sold within the borders of the Infinite Lands. Should foreigners still wish to purchase one of them, they would have to apply to the High Chief for a letter of permission and receive a certificate of ownership. If someone could prove they owned the artefact, however, they would be allowed to bring it across the border. Reselling those artefacts was to be prohibited by law. If those laws were violated, that person would be banned from buying any of those artefacts ever again in addition to whatever the law of their home kingdom stipulated.

The kingdoms within the League could always write an appeal to the High Chief to put a specific artefact on the list, which would be reworked at the beginning of each year. The final decision would lay with the High Chief and High Lord, however. They would have to be in agreement on the matter.

The materials the Infinite Lands would sell were limited by number. Since they could not be harvested without limit lest the delicate biome of the Infinite Lands would take damage, the number of materials sold would not surpass the safe amount for that year. This was regardless of the demand that should arise within the League, and the chiefs had the jurisdiction to determine what the safe amount that year would be. As long as it was under that threshold, the Infinite Lands were not allowed to deny the kingdoms of the League the right to bargain for them.

They also agreed on what the materials in question were. Namely plants that had absorbed the magic energy within the soil, as well as or products made out of these plants. Also products made out of magic beasts, monsters and animals who'd absorbed magical energy within the lands, as well as products fashioned out of them. Liquid mana, too, would be counted as a material.

Magic stones, on the other hand, would not be counted as materials and were therefor free to be traded for as needed. Which also meant that the Infinite Lands had no obligations to agree to negotiations for them.

The Juistria League would trade food, books and non-magical materials to the Lands.

The Juistria League was not allowed to deny the Infinite Lands the right to bargain for food items. They could, however, set the price at will. That meant they were not obligated to lower the prices to what the Lands deemed affordable, even if a trade would not happen because of it. There was no limit on what food items would or could be traded, but the Lands were going to purchase a set amount of grain, honey, potatoes and dried meat every year. The League wouldn't necessarily need to maintain the prices for that, either, however they would have to inform the Lands about price changes at least two months prior. If the Infinite Lands couldn't afford the difference in price, they were allowed to pay it in goods with according worth once. The year afterwards they would have to pay the price in money in full.

Literature would be sold without ban. Neither party was obligated to sell or buy anything, however. The treaty only stated that the books, regardless of content or kind, would be accepted as they were and could not possibly be declared forbidden. That new law was called "freedom of literature". Information that the kingdoms of the League declared a state secret could be removed from the books, but were to be removed before they were sold to the Infinite Lands.

Non-magical materials included all materials with no measurable magic energy within them or which were drained completely of mana. They didn't specify further, just that they were to be traded for according to current demand.

Once every six months - once during summer and once during winter - there would be a trade fair. The Winter Fair would be held within the Juistria League, where they would take turns hosting. The Juistria League was responsible for figuring out how they planned to schedule that, but no kingdom was to be the host twice in a row. The Summer Fair would be held within the Infinite Lands, in chief Ember's domain, the City of The Torch. This was since it was closest to Amity and therefor fairly easy to reach by crossing the mountain.

The trade fair would be open to all and any merchants from within any League-affiliated kingdom or the Infinite Lands. The host kingdom would be responsible for organisation. The fair would last for anywhere from a week to a month, the hosting kingdom would decide on the exact period at leisure. Knights or warriors would have to protect the grounds, and the hosting kingdom was responsible for organising that, too. Though they did not necessarily have to be knights or warriors of the hosting kingdom.

The League and the Lands would cooperate to build a large bridge across the Cursed Lands. It would be twice as wide as a road and be made with enchanted stone. It would be magically heated and quite a distance above ground so as to withstand the curse; and it would connect the border city Park Row in Gotham to the City of Dreams, chief Desiree's domain. The League would be responsible for planing and materials, the Lands for labour and enchantment.

There would be no taxes for goods crossing the border of the Infinite Lands, neither for import nor export.

Mostly, it was a normal trade agreement. A bit more thorough and certainly unusual, but there was nothing too unfair about it. It was a deal to strengthen commerce, nothing more.

A stark contrast to the day before.

It left the League antsy as they signed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the chiefs of the Infinite Lands just bowed to the royals of the League and took their leave.

Taking a deep breath, King Allen fell back into his chair. "That was… something," he said.

"Yeah. We'll have to search for possible traps in the wording later. That was way too good to be true," Clark sighed, closing his eyes. Then he shot up, giving his best smile to his childhood friend and his son. "How did negotiations go for you?"

"I'll keep my title as Prince of Gotham and I'll be crowned High Lord of the Infinite Lands after the rite of marriage. I'll even get a personal order of warriors that I get to choose myself. And if I die, my remains get to return to Gotham," Tim surmised, voice blank, "But I'll have to do a magic ritual that prevents me from hurting him, we have less than a month to marry in Gotham and move to the Infinite Lands - and even if he dies I'll have to allow his brother and sister to play watchdog. Though we at least get to leave for Bristol today, one day earlier than them."

"Less than a month?!" Enraged King Curry jumped up, his chair toppling over behind him. "That's insane! Isn't it enough that he gets to take Tim with him as a glorified hostage, now he can't even wait long enough to hold up the pretence?"

"I know, Arthur." Surprisingly, Bruce didn't sound as defeated as he looked earlier. In the face of his friend's anger, he sounded determined instead. When Tim looked over, Bruce looked it, too.

"I know. But we will find a way to get him back."

Tim got to see King Curry's expression shift from anger to shock to determination in a matter of seconds. "Right."

"Absolutely we will!" Clark, too, nodded determinedly from where he sat.

"You have my sword," Princess Diana agreed, eyes ablaze. "Worry not, young Tim, we and your father will fight for you."

"You've got a plan already, don't you?" King Allen asked, looking at B with the same determination the others held.

Closing his eyes, though, B shook his head softly. "I don't. Not against this. But… I do have an idea where to start."

King Curry, sitting back down, hummed as he considered Bruce. "And where would that be?"

"We will have to contact Lady Zatanna Zatara. Her father is still missing, so I dear we have to trouble her instead."

"The daughter of the grand mage? But… The Magic Tower acts as its own country, doesn't it?" King Clark asked in surprise.

"Hm", B agreed, "We worked with them before, though. Although not officially, the Magic Tower is a member of the League as far as I am concerned. But as an unofficial member…"

"She will have more freedom to act," King Allen filled in, "It could work. She might even know something about the magic of the Infinite Lands…"

King Curry raised a hand, scowling. "But isn't the magic there a completely different type than Lady Zatanna's true magic?"

"Which is why I will get into contact with John Constantine, too."

"The vagabond mage known for his manipulative streak?" Tim couldn't help but ask, a bit doubtful about putting his future into such a man's hands.

"He is a master of the arcane. And he specialises in a different kind of magic than Lady Zatanna. As… difficult a man as he may be, he is competent in what he does." Bruce placed a gentle hand onto Tim's shoulder, squeezing it in soft reassurance. "He may have valuable intel, but I won't rely only on him."

It didn't do much to ease the unnerved knot in his stomach, but Tim doubted anything could at this point. So he nodded. B nodded back, but left his hand there. Tim suspected it was for B himself as much as it was for Tim.

"And Diana?" B asked, turning back towards the League, "I hear Themyscira used to have bonds with one of the Ancients…"

"Lady Pandora, the Ancient of Battle believed to be Letate's daughter. Yes. I will ask mother and look through the archives."

"Phantom… He mentioned a couple other Ancients, too," Tim chimed in hesitantly. "Nocturn. He said he was the son of Astri. He also said he had two Guardian Ancients - Clockwork and Frostbite, he called them. The sons of Noviate and Cael."

"So we know of one Ancient for the Goddess of War, one for the God of the Night, one for the Goddess of Change and one for the God of Weather…" King Allen surmised, a thoughtful look on his face, "Do you think there's one for the other gods, too?"

"Eose, Itiner and Silvad, huh? Together that would make seven. It's possible… But since they claim the Ancients are the children of the Gods, that doesn't have to be true. One could have multiple children, or none at all."

A thoughtful silence took over the room. Finally, King Curry gave a decisive nod. "I will look into that. The islands of Atlantis are under the God of Nature's direct protection. He doesn't always answer, but perhaps we can gain some information about them from Silvad's Oracle."

"Thank you all for your help," B said, eyes soft and so very tried, "Truly."

"Worry not, friend," Princess Diana said, voice as warm as ever even as her eyes mirrored B's tiredness, "We are allies for a reason. Go now. Return home and meet your family - we have your backs covered."

"I still think I should be there with you," Vlad said, even as he secured his bags to his horse.

"And I still think you're a slimy, treacherous bastard known for his insubordination and attempts at regicide. So no."

Huffing, he leaned against his horse. "You parents would have wanted me to attend your wedding."

There was a sharp pain in his heart at the mention of them. Grief, anger, sorrow and barely suppressed memories tried to bubble up inside of him, but Danny pushed them back. "My parents," he answered sharply, "fought for Star Kingdom in the war, while you fought for the Infinite Lands. My parents were convinced that both you and me had been taken over by the 'evil magic'. They would not have wanted me to marry at all. They wouldn't have wanted any of this - and I've already done my part respecting your guys' friendship when I decided not to kill you. So stop playing that card, maybe? It's lost it's value. Now shoo. I've got better things to do than deal with your selfish ass."

"Like proposing to people randomly and gaping at them like a brain-dead fish when they accept?"

At the growl Danny let out, Vlad raised his hands. "I'm merely joking, Daniel. No need to take this so seriously…"

"I did not give you permission to call me that. To you, I am Phantom!"

Vlad raised his hands in mock surrender, not even having the decency to look apologetic about it. "I forgot, I forgot. Right, your highness Phantom. If you'll excuse me, then…"

Not even waiting for a dismissal, Vlad saddled up and rode out of the court. For a moment, Danny listend to the ominous clack of the hooves against the cobblestone. Then, he turned to Dan. If he'd put a bit of magic into that glare, Danny thought bemused, he would've frozen Vlad solid where he was. Probably why he didn't put magic into his glare, then - everyone was glad Vlad was leaving.

"Write to Jazz and ask her to keep an eye on him for me?"

The same glare was directed to Danny then. "Mhm…"

Sighing at the deadpan tone in his brother's voice, Danny started towards the quarters they'd been given. They were considerably more empty, now that everyone who didn't need to stay with them was send back. Fright had been a bit sad or completely pissed that he was send back, but with Dan still there he didn't have much reason to refuse the order. So he'd left, taking all but six of his guards with him.

"Are you still angry?" Danny asked, knowing the answer very well already. But he didn't get a response from his brother, only saw him following from the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't ask you before I did that, but I knew you would've refused. So…"

"Of course I would've refused, twerp! In case you die he'll take Elle and your kids and run - and I have to go with? The hell is that?"

…Yeah, definitely still angry.

Danny sighed again, looking around to make sure no one else would hear. "Dan. There's a lot of people who want me dead. And I don't plan on dying, you know I don't. But if I do…" Danny looked over, trying and failing to get Dan to meet his eyes. Sighing, Danny gave up. "I need to know you'll be safe."

There was a beat of heavy silence, only interrupted by their steps. They were loud on the marble floors since for once they didn't need to silence them. You learned to take advantage of such peaceful moments, living lives like theirs.

"You're the High Chief," Dan finally spoke up, still sounding angry but a lot less cold now, "And your whole thing is making the Infinite Lands safer. It's what you promised them when you drafted the chiefs for your little rebellion, and it's what you've been telling them since your coronation. You always talk about how the Infinite Lands are beautiful in its core and how we should be proud of our home. How we have the power to change it, for the better. That we can all trust you, because you won't abandon us. Ever."

Danny supposed he did do that. He meant it, too. But…

When he looked behind himself again, he noticed that Dan had stoped. So he did as well, turning around and seeing his brother's angry and hurt expression. His eyes weren't cold anymore, there was no glare anymore. Just hurt. Danny thought that might be even worse.

"And despite saying all that you, what, make sure your entire family leaves first chance we get? Why? Was all of that a lie?"

No. But despite loving the Infinite Lands, despite believing in its potential he couldn't deny that it was still dangerous. He just couldn't stand the thought of his family staying there when he wasn't around to protect them.

"You said you trusted me. You said I could be more than how I was born. You said you trusted me to protect all of you. You said I could definitely do it."

And Danny believed that. He absolutely did. He just didn't trust the Lands. He didn't trust himself to be able to change them enough to be safe by the time he couldn't help Dan protect their family.

"Danny. There is an entire nation putting their trust in you. You ask them to do that. Despite everything we have to deal with, they believe you when you say things will turn better. You know that all of them would die on your command without even questioning it. And they do that because they think you're with them. They call you their saviour - even Frostbite himself acknowledged you as the 'Great One'. And you can't even muster up enough faith in them to at least let us choose whether we want to stay?"

Danny sighed, leaning against the railing next to them. The training field was on the other side of it, empty this time. "Look, Dan… It will be tough enough as it is for Prince Timothy to survive in the Infinite Lands. Even with my support. Without me, it'll be even worse. And how could I ever allow our children to grow up without any of their parents around? I don't think he would abandon them, but… I had to make sure, you know?"

Dan sighed, too, coming up next to Danny to look out onto the training field. "And in the end, Elle isn't just your sister, huh?"

Danny shook his head. "I might call her my sister, and we might interact like we are. But despite that, she's still my…"

Dan hummed. Reluctantly, almost as though it hurt him to say, he admitted: "…I guess it was smart to make sure Vlad couldn't get her back if you're gone. But what about me?"

Danny gave him a look. Dan deflated, sighing. "Still, huh?"

"It's their loss. You're a great guy. It's just that without my backing or your binding to me… people would grow wary again."

"Say it like it is, twerp. They hate me." Dan sounded so defeated right then. And that just wasn't right.

"They don't hate you. They admire you. You know they elected you as their leader all on their own, right? I wasn't allowed to help you, and even if I was I knew you wouldn't have forgiven me for that. So that was all your own merit." Softly, Danny placed a hand on his dejected older brother's shoulder. The man next to him shot Danny a weak smile, but it neither looked convincing nor reached his eyes.

"They will never see me as anything but a Shadowborn. They'll always see me as evil." It sounded like something Dan had long since accepted. At the same time it sounded like a realisation. Maybe something in between.

"Prejudice against the Shadowborn are strong," Danny admitted softly, "They've been getting better with you around, but there's only so much five years can change. They'll come around, I'm sure of it. I'm just not so sure either of us will get to see it happen. And I don't want you to be left alone to deal with that, if the worst happens."

Dan sighed again, rubbing his hands down his face and smudging the ceremonial paint on it. "It was selfish of you to just go and decide that for us. It was mean towards everyone in the Infinite Lands to go behind their backs and make preparations for the people you love to flee once you can't protect us anymore. You're a hypocrite for even thinking you'll need it, despite everything to tell us all the time. And if not for the fact that I'd never go against you in front of others, even if I may question you sometimes, I would have outright refused back there."

Danny sighed. None of this was new information. He knew all of that, and he had still gone and done it. Because Dan was right, he was selfish in his core.

"But," Dan continued, surprising Danny, "I do understand why you did it. It was wrong! But I get your reasons."

Hopefully, Danny looked at his brother. "So we're good?"

Dan chuckled, pushing off the railing and starting down the corridor again. "We will be."

Relieved, Danny followed the man. Geez, he was lucky. He'd thought it'd take a lot longer for Dan to forgive him. After all, he'd gotten the stubbornness from Danny. Also his tendency to fight first, ask later. Really, this had gone a lot smoother than Danny had expected. There'd been a reason he hadn't been able to look at his brother when he'd asked this of Prince Timothy, after all.

"By the way," Dan started once they were at Danny's door, "what will you write to the court?"

Blushing, Danny nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "…I kinda was going to just send a copy of the treaties and the marriage contract and let them figure everything else out on their own? Maybe also tell them to start preparing? And ask Elle to send a couple of things…"

Next to him, Dan snorted. "Sounds like a you thing to do, alright. What did you want Elle to send you, though?"

"Uhm…" Danny followed Dan into his room, closing the door behind them, "Some more clothes and some stuff for Prince Timothy for when we travel back to the Lands? And, er, also… I have that chest of feathers, right? So I was going to make him a cloak. Using that. As a wedding gift."

For a moment, Dan just blinked at him surprised. Then, he burst out laughing. "Looks like you plan on spoiling your husband, huh?"

Blushing even deeper than before, Danny sat down at his desk to start writing his letters. "I don't have anything better prepared, is all."

"Right…" Dan mused with a shit-eating grin, "Because it's so surprising to have a marriage coming up when you propose to someone…"

Groaning, Danny let his head drop onto the wood. "Ancients, I think I want you to be mad at me again."

"Hm… What was that you said about the family design again, by the way? You won't need them again soon? Ah, but I guess you'll have to practise earlier than expected now~"

Danny let out a very unkingly whine. Good thing he wasn't a king but a high chief, then.

Chapter Text

"What happened?"

"Seriously?" Tim joked as he dismounted his tired horse (maybe rushing through the entire four hours to get here hadn't been a good idea. Then again, every second they gained was worth it right now, so he couldn't really find it in himself to feel bad about it), "I don't even get a hello?"

Across from him, his older brother simply crossed his arms and glared. "You were gone three days when you only wanted to deliver some documents. Now you're back in a hurry. Something clearly happened. What is it?"

Bruce, who'd apparently dismounted as well, pulled a stunned Jayson into a tight hug. "Hello, Jaylad. I promise we'll tell you, but… Gather everyone first? This is something we should discuss with the entire family."

It spoke volumes about how worried Jayson must've been that the man didn't push B away. Instead, he nodded tensely and waited for B to let go on his own.

"…No one better be dead," he grumbled as his eyes ran down both of their bodies. Apparently not finding any major injuries, he turned around and vanished into the castle.

As he watched him go, Tim's smile fell. Truth be told, part of him didn't want to tell them. He was scared of their reactions, of them actually somehow managing to prevent all of this and causing an irreparable mess. More than anything, though, he dreaded telling them because it would make all of this so… real.

Like signing your life away on a glowing contract this morning somehow hadn't be real. Sure. Makes a lot of sense, Timothy.

But in the end, the clock was ticking. So with a deep breath and a smile towards his father, Tim followed after Jason.

Walking through the familiar halls of the castle, it didn't take long to arrive at the drawing room where they knew Jason would have gathered the others. And yet they weren't the first ones there by any means. On one of the plush red sofas was Stephanie, sprawled across the entire length of it with her hair pooling around her and flowing off the armrest. Barbara sat on the couch as well, somehow poised despite currently also being Steph's footrest. Her wheelchair stood abandoned to the side.

Dick was there, too, perched precariously on top of the chimney, restlessly shifting his weight from left to right and back. Anyone else would've long since fallen off the narrow stone. But Dick being Dick, he made it look as easy as it looked impossible.

When the two of them entered, all eyes immediately went to them. Steph even sat up, one knee pulled up to rest her head on it. But neither B nor Tim said a word as they took the second couch, Tim leaning against Bruce for moral support ever so slightly. He had no illusions about his siblings not noticing.

Before anyone could say anything, the doors slammed open loudly. In strode a stiff Damian, sword at his side and posture ready for war. Behind him, Jason slandered in, expression annoyed but shoulders stiff in anxious tension. Lastly Duke came in, closing the door behind himself. He looked uncomfortable in general, with the clothes he wore as well as with the situation. But most of all, his amber eyes were shifting from one person to the next, carefully cataloging what was happening - he knew something serious was about to happen, then.

How Tim wished he could've taken their worries away rather than having to tell them the bad news. He really was a useless brother, making all of them worry like that. Or maybe that was just what his parents would've said to him, he wasn't sure. Exhaustion always tended to make him fall back into those old thought patterns.

Once everyone was settled - Damian in an armchair like a little evil overlord, Duke on another armchair sitting right on the edge and Jason on the armrest of Duke's chair, arms crossed defiantly - Bruce cleared his throat. Yet it wasn't until the door opened again to Alfred, their head butler and unofficial grandfather, pushing in a tray with tea that he spoke up.

"The day before yesterday," he started darkly, "we received a letter from the border and had to end the League meeting early due to that. The letter in question was a missive from Phantom, the new High Chief of the Infinite Lands. He asked to meet for… negotiations. As of yesterday, the Juistria League has officially entered a peace treaty with the Infinite Lands. As of this morning, we have established an official trade agreement as well."

"Right…" Jason's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a dangerous glow taking over their once blue hue as his curse beckoned to be unleashed once more, "And unofficially?"

"We surrendered with minimal losses for us and limited surveillance of theirs," Tim said, "But in the name of that new alliance, they asked to have a marriage with one of the royals of the League. We… decided to comply."

"No…"

"You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, you little-"

"What do you mean, we. Who is we in this, father?"

"You didn't!"

"…Who?"

It was Alfred's soft question, asked with the tightest voice Tim had heard from the man yet, that silenced the outraged cries of his siblings. Alfred's eyes, usually so kind, were filled with anger and grief. Whether that anger was directed at Phantom for taking one of his grandchildren away or at them for allowing him to, Tim couldn't tell.

Regardless, he took a deep breath. "It was decided," he said, trying to make the words cross his lips by detaching them as much as possible, "that High Chief Phantom of the Infinite Lands will take the third prince of Gotham as his husband within the month. He, his brother and some of his guards are scheduled to arrive here tomorrow. We'll leave after the wedding and hold a magic rite of marriage according to their traditions after."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Suddenly slamming his fist onto the table in their midst, Jason jumped to his feet. His eyes were blazing now, casting his face in an eery green glow. "What the fuck, old man?! Your own fucking son?! How dare you, you motherfucking-"

"I…" Tim's voice was small, but it was enough to get Jason to stop screaming. He had his eyes closed, so he couldn't see but he could feel all their eyes on him. He thought he might also be shaking. "I did that. I volunteered and sealed the deal before Bruce could intervene. He didn't… He wouldn't…"

Oh. Tim though he might be crying, too, now. Strong arms pulled him into a familiar hug as he tried desperately to keep from sobbing his heart out. Soon, another pair joined them. Dick, he faintly recognised.

"Oh, Timmy… Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Phantom was going to drop the entire negotiation," Bruce's voice rumbled above him. He did notice the anger in his father's voice, but the man was also clearly trying to keep his voice soft for Tim's sake. "We were about to have another Great Siege at our hands, because he didn't like that we didn't just choose what is essentially a sacrifice to him. That's when Tim stood up and…"

"Yeah, fuck that!" Jason's voice boomed, as angry as before, "And fuck him, too! Like hell Imma allow him ta take my brother. Y'know what? Let 'em try, I'll run a fucking sword through his neck myself, damnit! Ain't no way we'll let him have ya, Timbers."

"Don't be an imbecile, Todd," Damian's haughty voice interrupted, though even he sounded faint.

"Ex-fuckin-scuse me?!"

"Drake- Tim has bought us some time. We will not waste it. So cease your useless whining and help us plan ahead. Father? I assume you have a plan. Do you not?"

He felt strangely touched when Dami's voice got threatening at the end there. See? Tim knew he cared. And all it took for the brat to acknowledge it had been dooming himself for their sake.

Things wer quiet after that for a moment.

Then for another moment.

One more…

When the silence stretched on for too long, Tim forced his eyes open. And, yeah, he'd definitely been crying like a little child because his eyelashes were all wet and sticky now. Yuck.

Jason stood there, arms crossed and eyes glowing, but he was glowering at the floor. Dami was glaring at Bruce, held back by Dick even as the older boy was shaking. Duke sat frozen in his chair, face as pale as if he'd just seen a ghost. He couldn't see B or the girls from his position, so he didn't know about them. But Alfred stood to the side, as he always did, eyes closed and lips pressed together tightly. As much emotion as he would allow himself to show.

"We lack information," B finally answered his youngest. "But the League and I found a starting point…"

"I see," Alfred chimed back in, looking as proper as ever now, "If I may be so free, you would be best advised to share that starting point of yours, then. However, I dare say master Tim may be in desperate need of some rest, no? Perhaps you could enlighten us after I see him to his chambers?"

Tim went to protest, but the faces of his brothers made clear what they thought about that. So he was going to be treated like he was sick, huh? Usually he'd insist that feeling a little emotional didn't mean he was ill, but honestly? After the last couple of days, he really didn't have the energy. So he just sighed and nodded.

"I'll get some sleep, then. If I'm not awake already then, wake me up?"

Alfred smiled kindly at him as he stood. "I will most certainly do no such thing, master Tim."

Mustering a glare, Tim frowned at his grandfather. "I don't actually need to sleep, remember?"

"Certainly. Your blessing is sleep negation, so as long as you have mana left at your disposal you will never truly need sleep," Alfred nodded, raising an eyebrow, "At a detriment to your health, that is."

Since they insisted on treating him like a child all the time and he was incredibly exhausted, Tim decided to act like a child. "Exactly. And I want to eat together. So wake me up, please."

With that he left, shutting the door behind himself.

He made it exactly halfway to the staircase before he collapsed on the floor, crying. All of a sudden, the reality of it broke down on him like a tidal wave. Damning and unforgiving, threatening to pull him under.

You will become someone's trophy, Timothy, and it won't be your choice whose, he remembered his mother's sharp voice telling him once when he was younger. How awful that she turned out to be right - and just when he'd started to truly believe he'd never have to do something like what he'd been raised to do. How cruel of the world.

But even as he sat there crying his eyes out, sobbing so loud and violently that it hurt his throat, he remembered what she had told him next: Your job is to make sure they will do anything to keep you. Don't you ever forget, you are not something to just have. You, Timothy, are the thing they will have to earn. Keep making them work for you, dear. A Drake always takes his dues.

And be it in information or safety or freedom - he intended to take it. He may be giving himself up like he was raised to do, but he had not been raised as a pushover who did that for nothing.

"I don't see what the problem is," Jason huffed, falling back onto the couch, "He gets here, I stab his heart. He's dead and no one marries Tim. Easy!"

"The problem, Jason, is that we're talking about the High Chief here," Steph hissed out, clearly just as pissed as Jason but reasonable for once.

"Even the High Chief's gonna die if his heart don't work," Jason defended, throwing up his arms in what was either frustration or anger.

"You're right, that is an easy way," Duke chimed in with a sigh, eyes up at the ceiling as he kept thinking, "An easy way to set the entire continent ablaze and kill all of us, that is."

"You don't know that," Jason weakly defended.

"But you do," Dick cut in sharply, pushing off his wall, "You were there when the war happened last time. So was I. Remember? We barely made it out alive back then."

"We're stronger now! And there's more of us. Besides, we managed last time. Who's to say we won't this time, huh?"

"We did not 'manage', Jaylad," Bruce sighed, tone sharp and resigned, "We barely scraped by until they decided they felt merciful. And by the rumours they didn't do it because they felt like sparing us, they did it because their precious Ancients didn't feel like supporting the old High Chief any longer. And during the war we lost almost everything, both of you lost so much. And you were…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. Everyone knew what he was talking about. Jason especially, as he glared at their father viscously. "Cursed? Yeah, believe it or not, I fuckin' noticed."

"It's a miracle you didn't die," Dick reminded him softly, minding the green glow in his younger brother's eyes even as he put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "It'd be foolish to hope for another."

Jason clicked his tongue, looking away. His shoulders didn't relax even a little, though. "Yeah? What're you saying we should do, then? Sit idle and do nothin'? That ain't gonna fly, Dickhead."

Helplessly, the oldest prince shrugged. "We could try to talk to them? Maybe if we find something else he wants…"

"That's just stupid what you said," Steph scoffed, "He wouldn't have told us to hand over Timmy if he was going to give us choices!"

"Yeah, actually," Jason said, shifting to look at his older brother, "What‘cha doin' here anyways? Aren't ya s'posed to be in Blüd, ya grace?"

Unimpressed, Dick raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who send me a letter when Tim didn't come back yesterday morning."

"So? Don't mean you should just abandon your duties, does it?"

The look on Dick's face somehow grew impossibly more unimpressed. "You wrote, and I quote: 'Get your ass over here before I come over there and drag you back by your pretty-boy ears'?"

Jason shrugged. "So? Since when was I the brains of this family? I'm very clearly the looks of the operation."

"More like the brute," Damian scoffed. He sat up, folding his hands to rest his head atop of them. "But… Your idea isn't entirely without merit, Richard. I hear they value their honour as warriors above all else. I shall request an official duel where the winner shall have one request. Then, he would be honour-bound to let Timothy go."

"A duel is more important to him than whatever this is?" Barbara asked suspiciously, "Who said that?"

Damian stiffened up. "Not that it matters, but I overheard Grandfather say so."

"What?! So we're gonna trust the words of the crazy necromancer and his murderous death-cult now?" When no one denied it, Jason fell back dramatically with a loud groan. "Holy shit, Tim's screwed-screwed!"

"He's not," Barbara insisted vehemently, looking up from the book she'd been looking through since a while back.

The king's aide - formerly one of his best squires and on her way to become the next knight captain before an accident during Jason's kidnapping had left her paralysed - was known for both her information network and her research abilities. Her blessing, too, was invaluable with her adept way of using it, of course. Silvad did not give out a lot of blessings, so her being able to communicate through mushrooms was incredibly rare. And her idea of using that as a surveillance network? Genius.

Bruce was truly blessed to know her firmly on his side.

"We will find a way to either prevent this or undo it later. Bruce is right: His job is surviving, and ours is the rest."

"And I do not fail my missions," Damian nodded full of conviction.

Alfred nodded, too. "In the meantime I shall make preparations for the groom-to-be's party's arrival tomorrow. It would not do, after all, for him to find our hospitality lacking and deciding to return the favour."

Simultaneously, everyone in the room paled.

"If he does," Jason growled without any real heat and pale as a sheet, "I'll make sure he'll hurt for it."

"Oush!"

"Such a regal appearance! Truly, you strike awe and fear into the hearts of everyone looking at you, dear brother!" Dan managed to say all of that seriously before falling back over laughing.

"Ey!" Danny defended best he could with both his hands occupied and a safety pin between his teeth, "You try looking good when you work wish shomeshing shat literally bunsh you when you tush it!"

"And that noble speech!" Dan laughed. You know, like an asshole. "Your so-to-be-husband must be head over heels for you."

Sighing, Danny rolled his eyes. Carefully, he placed another stich - poking himself in the finger again. "Oush!"

Turning around, Dan rested his head on his arms to watch Danny once more. "But why phoenix feathers anyways?"

"Becaush," Danny said, gesturing with the needle in his hand, "he sheemed to like red, and ish cold in she norsh. He shushn't have to be cold, shu know?"

"Uh-huh… And why a cloak?"

Fighting the urge to throw something at his brother, Danny settled for another eye roll again. "Becaush ish a wedding gift. It hash to be speshial. Duh!"

"Right…" Dan nodded, not at all sounding convinced. His eyes shifted to Danny's hands, where he was steadily using magic to heal the burns on his skin from touching the feathers in the first place. It wasn't a bad burn, just a little red skin and swelling. Like touching a hot pot, maybe. Just a couple of blister bruns, healed within two seconds of occurring.

"Well," Dan grumbled, "he better appreciate the gift."

Chapter Text

Bristol's walls had just one gate. That gate could only be reached by crossing the large bridge that connected it to the other side of the river. High walls of deep grey granite faded against the grey clouds in the sky, and an iron gate would block the path of anyone they wanted. Currently, though, it was wide open with two guards stationed there, protecting the city and making sure only savoury people would pass.

When Danny rode towards it, he made sure to stay in the middle of that bridge. He'd never seen such a high bridge, and he was not keen on falling down from this high up. Even though he'd grown up in the middle of the mountains, this was not the kind of hight he was comfortable. Too much of it, and too much water beneath.

Once there, he demounted. Dan, having spend more than enough time in his presence to know how to read his movements, followed his example. The guards behind him were a bit slower, stopping just barely fast enough not to jostle them. They hesitated before they dismounted, too. Not much, just enough to look around and make sure there was no reason not to.

Dan's harsh training regiment must've payed off. Or maybe it was Fright's frustrations at having to train the entire guard order anew since the ones sworn to Pariah had been let go? Not that it mattered, in the end it was effective.

Though they would need to work on the speed of this. If this had been a battle or enemy territory, their hesitation could've killed Danny by now. They should've looked before, and called out with their signs if they saw anything suspicious. They should've trusted the rest of them when no one called out, too.

Glancing over at Dan, Danny knew they would be having words with him later. So he leaned over to his brother, smiling. "Go easy on them," he said quietly. He didn't need to whisper, but he didn't need to announce it to the world, either. "We're here because of a wedding, there shouldn't be any need to fight."

Danny had also spend enough time with Dan in return to read him when the older brother decided that, no, he would not go easy on anyone just for that reason.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Danny turned to face the guards just in time for when they finished their hushed argument about who would talk to them. It somehow reminded him of when they first arrived in Gotham, though he couldn't quite place his finger on why that was. Maybe something in the eyes of the young man when he stepped forward. Or maybe because it was the younger one?

Coming to think of it… Why was it that the youngest one was always send to talk to them anyways? It had been the same at the fortress when they'd been shown to their rooms or when someone had come to get them for the meetings. Maybe something about gaining experience? That was nice.

"Welcome to Bristol," the young man said, voice a bit nervous. Looked like he could use the experience, then. How nice that he could get it with someone he knew wouldn't harm him for messing up. That must've taken a load off of him.

"What, eh, is your purpose for coming here?"

What?

"…My purpose?" Confused, Danny tilted his head. He thought they would've informed the city guards about their arrival. Danny had even made sure not to pull up the hood of his so that they could see his crown and identify him easily. Huh…

"Ah!" The guard raised his hands as if in surrender. He even took a step back. Had he done something wrong? Some sort of protocol that he'd forgotten about? Too bad Danny didn't know enough about their protocols to help him…

"I'm very sorry, your majesty. It's just, I have to ask. Everyone, I mean. I have to ask everyone."

Humming, Danny nodded. So he shouldn't have just addressed Danny. That made sense. From what Danny knew that must be counterintuitive to the poor guy, since usually the highest ranking noble would speak for everyone in the group here in the South.

"I see… My purpose. That would be that I'm a guest of your king. He awaits me at the castle. These are my…" Brother and mandatory guards sounded weird. "entourage."

No, that sounded even worse. No matter, it was out now. Best to just keep talking and gloss it over.

"Do you have to check or can we pass now?"

Somewhere inside the city, a bell chimed noon. Was it really that late already? They'd set off early that same morning… Maybe taking their time to admire the vegetation around them hadn't been the best idea. Though he'd rather bite his tongue off than admit that, not when he knew that Dan would just wear that smug smile and say that he'd told him so.

"No!" the guard pulled him back to the situation at hand. He must've felt really bad for delaying Danny, because he shook his head frantically as he did. "I just need some form of identification and you're free to enter, sir! Eh, your majesty. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean… Sorry."

Huh. Titles must be really important here if he felt that sorry about saying 'sir' instead.

Good to know. Anyways!

"I'm sorry," Danny started, giving the guard an apologetic smile, "None of us have any sort of identification that would be valid here. I assumed it would be obvious, so I didn't prepare anything."

For some reason, the guard paled at his words. "Ah, that…"

Hm… It must be kind of a dilemma. The peace treaty was a new and big thing, so they probably wanted to let them through. But without identification he most likely wasn't allowed to give them the go-ahead.

"I do have this, though," Danny tried, hoping it would help. It wasn't a valid form of identification here, but it most certainly was at home. So he pulled out his soul shard, which he always wore on a long silver chain on his belt, and allowed some of his magic to flow in so it would light up.

Truth be told, Danny wasn't even sure they knew what it was. But they were very common back in the Infinite Lands, so maybe they'd heard about them at least? They were used as a mark of identification there, since they couldn't be replicated after all.

You see, the crystals themselves couldn't be made by human hand nor be found in nature. Only the Ancients - and therefor probably also the gods - could make them. Each citizen of the Infinite Lands would get one of them when they either had their first big achievement - something like their first journey by themselves as a wanderer, or the first killed beast as a warrior - or reached adulthood, whichever came first.

Danny himself had gained his from Frostbite when he'd survived that night in- When he'd gained his first blessing.

A soul shard would resonate with the soul of its bearer and form a pattern that would light up like a rune when magic was run through it. That pattern mirrored the bearer's soul and was as unique as can be, and due to the resonance only the bearer's magic could light it up.It was almost like a signature. Or an individual seal, maybe, since a soul sign couldn't be faked.

That was why they were only ornamental, too. Even though they were traditionally formed with a pointy end and the magic flowing through them made them incredibly sharp, they were far to precious to be actually used for anything other than identification.

Danny's own soul shard was formed like a tiny knife, after the sword he'd had with himself that night. The shard was a deep black with small specks of white, blue and purple, like the night sky. His soul sign, glowing a soft icy blue, was a P inside of a flaming D. D for Danny and P for Phantom, the moniker he'd chosen back then and kept till this day.

Danny was aware than differently from home, where everyone knew what his soul shard looked like, they would probably note it down for later reference. He was prepared to wait that long at least.

Contrary to his expectations, though, the guard just nodded frantically. He must've wanted to get this over with quickly, huh? "Welcome to Bristol, your majesty! You may pass now. So sorry for the inconvenience."

Aw, the nerves were getting to him. Poor guy. He sounded a bit choked. Was guard really a good job for him when he obviously struggled with social interactions so much? Although, he doubted that it was really his place to say something about it. So instead, Danny decided to cheer him up.

"See?" he asked as he put his soul shard away again, "That wasn't that bad, was it? And don't worry, I know you were just doing your job. And you did it! Well done."

The guard gave a nervous chuckle. "Thank you, your majesty."

When nothing else came, Danny nodded, giving the guard another smile. Then he turned ever so slightly to his company and gave a single thrill and two clicks of the tongue. Move forward slowly, by foot

Together with the seven men accompanying him, Danny passed the gate and entered Bristol.

And the city was a sight to behold.

As far as he'd seen from Gotham the streets were state of the art and very carefully crafted, but they were old and run down. Random holes were all over them. But here? The black cobblestone looked almost pristine. And on either side of it vines - Danny was pretty sure those were called ivy, Sam had talked about them once - cascaded down the black lantern posts.

Earlier on the bridge he'd noticed that they siphoned off some of the water from the river below, but he had not been prepared for the gushing fountains sporadically stationed around the city. White stone… Was that quartz? Danny didn't know enough about it to say for sure, but he thought it might be.

He'd originally intended to just make a beeline for the castle. But there were so many shops here! Vendors trading not far from the gate, and shops in every single one of the streets…

Danny knew he should take the big road that was very obviously the main road leading to the castle, but he couldn't help but walk into the much smaller and much more interesting street to his left. There were so many signs there, intricately crafted from iron and squeaking ever so softly as they swung in the wind.

Ignoring the soft sigh from his brother, Danny marveled at the variety. A blacksmith, an apothecary, a café, a cake shop, a tea house, a jeweller, a seamstress, a stable, an inn, a pub… Was that a shop to rent carriages?!

"We might want to pick up the pace," Dan murmured next to him, pulling Danny out of his marvel. When he looked over to his brother, he noticed how the man shifted uncomfortably, hiding his face in the hood of his cloak. Only then did he notice the stares. There were many people about right now and almost all of them were staring, most of them whispering.

Rumours traveled fast within big cities, his mother had once told him. It seemed to be right. How long would it take for all of Bristol to know Danny and his company had arrived?

Still, Danny shook his head. "No," he said resolutely, "We're guests here. We should not have to hide."

"We shouldn't have to," Dan agreed with a scowl, "But reality is different. Let's hurry to the castle, yeah?"

For a moment, Danny considered it. But even as he worried his lip between his teeth, he knew what his answer would be. "Even so… I'd rather take a look around. When we arrive there'll be so many rules and decorum and preparations. When will we get a chance like this again. And, I mean, everything here looks just so…"

"Pretentious?" Dan supplied helpfully, a scowl on his lips.

"Fancy," Danny corrected, "Do you figure they sell special drinks in that tavern?"

When Danny pointed at a sign making the establishment as "The Silken Wing", Dan hummed. "They probably do, like all taverns and inns in big cities. They also all have absurdly high prices and sub-par quality. So don't bother going in."

"And how would you know?" Danny asked, laughing quietly to himself, "You've never even left the Lands!"

Blushing, Dan crossed his arms and walked faster, tugging his horse along. "Elle said so."

Ah. Well, then Danny didn't really have a choice but to believe it…

Sighing a bit disappointed, he followed Dan. Not for long, though. Not even five minutes after, he saw a shop that he just had to take a closer look at. Judging by the groan that elicited, he did so to Dan's chagrin, which honestly only made the decision better.

But then again, really? A weapon's smith? How was he supposed not to take a look?!

"Swords&Daggers" was a small shop but the door handle was well-loved and the front was clean. When Danny let go of his horse, knowing that it wouldn't run, he noticed that Dan grabbed onto Danny's reigns for him. Looked like he didn't intend to take a look inside, then. Well, his loss. Danny would, still. Just a quick look.

He was curious about the weapons in the South, okay? Who could blame him for that?

Outside, there was a sign welcoming people in to have a look. But when Danny entered, the shopkeeper's face said something different. Danny couldn't really read the expression on the bearded man's face, but it certainly told him the man thought the sooner Danny left the better.

Having survived many battlefields and hatred from first his hometown and then some of the Infinite Lands for a while, Danny didn't let it deter him and instead walked over to look at the weapons on the walls.

They were sorted by usage and how much expertise was needed for them, not by kind or price. Weapons that would be good for self defence were on the far left of the wall, training and beginners after that, general use in the middle, those you couldn't use at all unless you were very well trained on the far right. The father up the weapon was, the further the range.

Giving an interested hum, Danny picked a pair of needles (fashioned to either be worn concealed or used as a throwable weapon, but as a tool for a rouge either way) from close to the floor on the right. When he pressed the tip of one against his wrist, he felt the wound before he felt the cold of the metal. A single drop of blood ran down his skin. Sharp and precise. That would make a good present for Elle, he thought. Perhaps she wouldn't be too angry with him for leaving her behind, if he brought her something nice back.

A bit further left Danny found a hunting knife. When he took it from the wall he could tell right away that it was well-balanced. The glint when he held it against the window was nice to watch, too. Barely any grooves or dents, very neat work. The hilt, fashioned out of wood, could use some work, but other than that…

It had a nice size. Fit right into his hand. And when Danny gave it a couple of swings, the movement felt natural. Usually, Danny fought with his blessings and fists, but he could appreciate a good blade.

Thoughtfully, Danny's eyes ran over the weapons on display. He remembered a long time ago, before the war had broken out, his father had once told him that the barbarians were lagging behind when it came to craftsmanship, and that their weapons were dull and rough. During the war that hand't come up as an issue and afterward Danny hadn't had the opportunity to take a look at it. But seeing the weapons here…

Weapons were important in the Infinite Lands. They couldn't offer much, but blacksmiths were highly respected. He could offer some nice benefits if a craftsman was good, and this one certainly was.

Looking at the bearded man, Danny hummed. Quietly, just to himself, he mumbled: "I wonder… if I were to decide take you back with me just like that, would Timothy be angry about that?"

Apparently, though, the blacksmith had heard him and didn't like the suggestion. At least he'd flinched away and stiffened. Giving a nervous chuckle, Danny walked over to the register and placed the set and the hunting knife on it. "Don't worry, I was just thinking about it. Your work is good, I'd love to have that talent at home."

"…And if I'd rather not, your majesty?" His voice was rough but his tone was careful, Danny noted.

Shrugging, he gestured to the items. "Then I'd say it's a shame… Will you ring those up for me?"

For a moment, the man just starred at Danny. Then he looked back down and named his price. Surprised by how little the smith wanted, Danny raised an eyebrow and added two silver to that. Not waiting for a reply, Danny tied his leather pouch back onto his belt together with the new knife and stashed the set in a satchel.

"Ah, and if you ever change your mind or things don't work out for you here?" Danny gave the man a smile that… for some reason only made the man stiffen up more? He dropped the smile. "The Infinite Lands would always welcome a talent like you."

"What do you mean by that?"

Huh. That man was pretty paranoid, huh? Oh, well. Shrugging, Danny turned around. "Nothing, really. Just what I said. Anyways, thank you and have a good day - my brother's waiting outside so I have to go now. Sorry I couldn't stay and chat some more."

The man didn't say anything, so Danny shrugged to himself and walked back out.

"Got everything?" Dan asked as he handed Danny back the reigns to his horse, before the door had even fallen shut. Danny thought he heard a thud from inside the shop, but the door was closed before he could take a look. It was probably nothing…

"Yeah… Though I would've loved to get my hands on the smith."

Dan raised an eyebrow. "He refused?"

Shaking his head, Danny took a couple of steps forward - and noticed a group of men by the side of the road, all of them neatly stacked. "Nah, he made it clear that he wasn't interested before I could offer… Uhm… Dan, say, what happened there?"

"Huh?" Dan glanced over to the stack of people. Then he shrugged. "Oh. Nothing much. Just a couple of bandits."

Ah. "Did you make a mess?"

Dan shook his head, looking mildly offended. "I don't make messes, Danny. I put people in their place. And these guys weren't worth it. They were weak."

Danny hummed. "Is that why you allowed them to pretend to be unconscious, too?" Danny pretended not to notice how half of them flinched.

"Yup. Anyways! You done looking around now? I'd really like to get going."

Actually, Danny wasn't really, but… "Urgh! Fine. Off to the castle we go…"

Dan smirked, leading the way. Knowing Danny, he took the way they came so they could get back to the main road without coming across anything new that he might think was interesting. Spoilsport. "Thank you."

Chapter Text

"What do you think how they'll react?" The young High Chief looked at his brother, a smile playing on his lips. "I can't imagine they'll be very happy about the sudden marriage. Don't you think?"

Scoffing, Dantrey shook his head. "Oh, definitely not! But the only one you can blame for that is yourself, you know?"

The younger brother breathed a laugh at that. "Hear, hear. But on the other hand, how in the name of the Ancients was I supposed to know he'd actually agree?"

Dantrey raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound happy about it…"

"I am, I am," he assured, raising his hands in mock-surrender, "I'm just… wondering whether he knows what he got himself into. You know?"

Dantrey snorted, waving his brother off. "Oh, please. He's the prince of Gotham! If anything, you should be happy he was the one who agreed."

The High Chief hummed. "Hm, Gotham does have a reputation.

"Right? As do their princes, by the way. I'd really love to fight-"

"Do not fight a child, Dan." He paused, then sighed. "I can't believe I actually just had to say that.

"Fine," Dantrey grumbled, "No fighting the child… Unless he wants to."

"No! Don't fight the child at- Oh. We're here."

Opening her eyes, Barbara stoped using her blessing. "They've arrived," she told the royal family gathered around her.

At her words, Tim immediately straightened. He stopped readjusting his clothes - which he'd done the last couple of hours - and put on his awful polite smile instead. And though the prince may not have said anything, his blue eyes spoke volumes about how scared he was. Honestly, it was worse than the first time she'd met him, when he first arrived at the castle.

But Tim, as stupidly self-sacrificial and stubbornly strong as his entire family, still stood and pushed open the door to go down and greet their… guests.

One after the other, Steph, Damian, Bruce and Duke followed, leaving Barbara behind with the two oldest princes.

"While he's here…" Dick started softly, a grave expression on his face that he didn’t usually allow people to see. There were dark bags beneath his eyes, though he’d done his best to hide them with make-up. And yet the dangerous glint in those bright blue eyes told the very same story as the bruises on his brother's knuckles.

Good. Barbara felt the same way, after all.

"Don't worry," she reassured both of them, allowing her eyes to flash black with the magic of the blessing she'd just used, "I wasn’t planning on leaving them out of sight, either."

Something relaxed in Dick at those words. His shoulders dropped to almost where they usually were. Jason, too, gave a satisfied nod. And for a moment, she thought that was it - until she noticed the way Dick hesitated.

"I…" He swallowed, took a deep breath and avoided their eyes. "I'm going to try and take Timmy's place."

What?!

Jason, apparently agreeing with Barbara, let out an inhuman growl. "Like hell you are! The fuck do you think that’s gonna do? You in that monster’s clutches ain’t any better than Timbit goin’, asshole."

Dick sighed a sigh so deep Barbara found herself wondering how he was even capable of it. "It is better, Jaybird," he insisted, like a hypocrite, "You know how Tim was- What his parents did to him. He’s made so much progress, he’s finally able to say what he wants and what he likes and he doesn’t have a panic attack when he "dared" to make plans for his own future anymore, either. But now this? If he just… just sells himself like that he’ll be back at square one. Worse, if Phantom decides he doesn’t like him! I just- I can’t allow him to be the one who goes."

He was right, was the worst of it. They all knew it, of course. They knew what a manipulative, machiavellian bitch Janet Drake had been. They knew that Jack would’ve sold Tim’s organs - vital or not - if he felt it was no loss to him. The entire family remembered how empty his eyes used to look when he’d come to live at the castle.

Really, it had been no surprise that Bruce had wanted to protect him and swiftly decided that, no, he would not take Tim on as an advisor. That, no, Tim would not fill Jack Drake’s shoes after his parent’s death in the war. And Barbara figured if Bruce hadn’t adopted Tim on sight, Dick sure would have done it in his father’s stead.

"And your emotional ass will be better off, will it?" Jason glared at his brother defiantly, cutting his protests off immediately. "No, Dick. You start crying when you think someone will turn their back on you. Your dumb people pleasing, always placating, abandonment issues self is gonna stay with us where it belongs. You’d crumble like one of Alfie’s biscuits before you’d even arrive. Like fuck you’re going. I’ll fucking tie you up in the dungeons if I gotta!"

"I agree with Jason this time: That's a stupid plan, Dick." Barbara shook her head, a frown carved into her face. Because Jason was right, of course. Dick absolutely would crumble under that kind of pressure.

She could already imagine him crying himself to sleep because he felt dirty under the attention he'd receive. He'd always done that whenever the nobles saw him as nothing but a pretty face and gave them attention he didn't want - he still did, sometimes, when he thought they wouldn't notice and everything just got too much. Most of the time, though, he used it like a weapon. And after Jason had returned cursed and much more prone to violence than he had been before… Well, none of the nobles here were stupid enough to try anything anymore.

Jason protected his family, even if the methods were sometimes shaped by violence and people he cared for got caught in the crossfire of his cursed anger.

Dick, slumping in on himself, shook his head. "I don't… I know it's stupid, okay? But I just don't want Tim to… to…"

Dick, too, protected his family. Even though he messed up spectacularly halfway through most of the time and tended to forget that his siblings, too, wanted him to be safe.

"We don't want Tim to suffer either. But Dick? Neither do we want to see you go through that," Barbara made sure to say, because no one else in the castle ever talked about anything, "Your plan, it would just change whom we'd loose. It wouldn't make anything better. And do you really think Tim could live with that, if it worked out? Do you think anyone would be happier with that?"

Dick didn't say anything. But Jason and Barbara both knew him too well to think that alone meant agreement. So Jason walked over to his older brother, a head shorter than himself by now, and squeezed his shoulder. "See? Even Barbie thinks so. So, promise me, Dick. Say you won't try something like that."

When he looked up, Dick looked like he wanted to argue some more. But once his eyes met those of his younger brother, free of the curse's glow for once, he visibly folded. "Alright, I won't."

Barbara, Jason and Dick all knew that it was a lie. They all knew it was all Jayson and Barbara could do for now, as well.

Jason sighed, pulling his older brother into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear that made Dick give a wet chuckle. Deciding to give the two of them some time, Barbara drove her wheelchair out of the sitting room. But apparently the two of them had decided that they'd reached their daily capacity for vulnerability. Because before she'd even rounded the corner, they had already joined her.

"I think it's lovely," Phantom noted casually, probably unaware of the knot that had just loosened in Tim's stomach, "Very interesting. I'd love to see more of it…"

Ah. That was an order if Tim had ever heard one. So he nodded dutifully, smile still in place. "I could give you a tour, if you'd like?"

He tried to ignore how Phantom's eyes glowed ever so slightly brighter. Returning home, where glowing green eyes meant the curse was acting up within his brother, had him on edge around the magic hue. Was he hiding it well enough? Tim could only hope.

"Really?! That'd be wonderful! Only if you're sure you don't mind, though?" Phantom's smile could've looked kind, if it had been on anyone else's face. On the High Chief, it almost looked like a threat. Was it a threat?

Heavens, Tim was already tired of this. Of guessing the meaning behind every gesture or word. Was he interpreting into things too much? He knew the Wayne paranoia got to him whenever he thought about someone's intentions too deeply. Gods, what he wouldn't do for Cass to be here, even if it'd put her in more danger. With her blessing this would've all been so much easier.

Reading intentions was so much better a blessing than sleep negation. So what if Tim could stay up days on end without feeling tired? It only worsened his health in the long run, and he didn't feel like having more hours of the day to think about all of this either.

He figured he'd get a lot of sleep in the next month. Lucky him.

When Phantom tilted his head in question, Tim snapped out of it. Gods, what had he been thinking to drift off like that? He was better than that, he knew he was. But since scolding himself wouldn't negate the damage he'd done, Tim fixed his smile. "Oh, I won't mind at all. I'm sorry. I was just thinking. About where we could go…"

Phantom's grin grew a bit and Tim wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. He looked happy, but why? Was he happy because he'd get to do something only evil warlord barbarians would enjoy?

…Would Tim be sentenced to death for treason if anyone found out he just thought that about his future husband? Damn, now he was hoping there was no one with a blessing like mind-reading in Phantom's court.

"Oh! Could we go incognito, though? I think some of the people I met were nervous around me for some reason."

Yeah, Tim thought dryly, wonder what that reason could be. "Naturally," Tim said instead, "Though we'd have to take a guard with us, still."

Phantom hummed. "Let's take one of yours, then. Dan's been getting on my nerves a lot lately. He'd just complain the entire time, I think. Brothers, you know?" He shrugged as if to say 'what can you do?' instead of actually looking angry about it.

Yes, Tim definitely had to get on Dantrey's good side if he wanted to survive this.

Speaking off Dantrey… Looking over, Tim found the man leaning against a wall, watching Tim's youngest brother intensely. He'd shown interest the second that Damian had been introduced, and had looked like he wanted to say something until Phantom had shut him up with a glare. Tim was growing concerned now.

Was it because of the Lazarus Pits? Creating them was one of the most powerful blessings out there - but Damian had been send to live with Bruce when he'd awakened the Wayne blessing but not the Al Ghul one. It was a great sense of insecurity for him to this day. Did Dantrey not know about it? If so, should Tim bring it up? But that'd just be adding insult to injury.

Next to him, Phantom suddenly let out an incredibly tired sigh. When Tim glanced back to him, he found the High Chief pinching his nose in exasperation and then looking up as though praying. "Dan…"

The grin Dantrey gave his brother was all sharp edges, nothing kind or amused about it. "What? I didn't do anything."

"Dan. No." Phantom, completely ignoring how the entire room was now looking at him, walked over and pulled himself up to his full height in front of him. Since Dantrey was still a good couple inches taller than Phantom, though, he still had to crane his neck to look at his brother's glowing red eyes. "Listen to me, Dan. Do not -" he paused meaningfully "- follow through on that thought."

"But-"

"No."

"What if-"

"No."

"I was just-"

"Dan. No."

Dantrey sighed but bowed his head. That didn't stop him from leaning back and sulking like a child, though. Whatever it was that Dantrey wanted to do and Phantom didn't want him to must've meant a great deal to him. And, apparently, had something to do with Damian.

"What was that all about?"

Tim did not flinch when Jason suddenly spoke from his other side, shut up. And even if he did, which he hadn't, it wouldn't have been Tim's fault with how Jason sneaked around all the time. How did he even do that with those boots? What was he, a ghost?

When he spoke up, Phantom noticed him as well, though. The unnerving thing about it was how he looked like he recognised something about Tim's brother. When he walked over, something in his eyes was searching.

"You," he said softly but with certainty, "were in the Cursed Lands. How long ago was it? Seven years?"

"Eight," Jason corrected tensely, eyes narrowing and voice icy. "How did you know about the curse?"

"Curse?" Phantom blinked in confusion, opened his mouth, then thought for a moment and hummed. "I see… Well. I didn't know about that. I just remembered you being there, is all. I saw you."

Once more, the atmosphere in the room shifted immensely. No wonder. After all, the day Jason was cursed was still a huge mystery to all of them.

Jack Napier, a sellsword who'd lost his mind somewhere along the line to the thrall of some demon that was long gone by now, had crossed paths with Jason, who had joined Bruce at the front lines to help with tending to the injured and evacuation. At night, he had kidnapped Jason.

They had thought Jason had died when the man had send some of Jason's hair tied around the boy's sword to the castle. Everyone had been devastated.

But then, after a while, rumours of the vengeful spirit of a vagabond knight made their rounds. When Bruce, Dick and Tim went to investigate, they found that the vengeful knight was none other than Jason. His mind was lost in the curse at the time, and it took Lady Zatanna and King Marvel both to pull his conscious out of it. And yet still, the curse remained unbroken to this day.

When Jason had started being himself again, he managed to tell them what he remembered. It wasn't much: Napier had tortured Jason, then tied him up and dragged him somewhere cold. He'd been left there, barely conscious and forced to listen to the sellsword's fading deranged laughter. When he woke, he found himself at the edge of the Cursed Lands, white sand in his clothes. A strand of hair that had been within the borders of the Cursed Lands grew in snow white, and it remained that colour no matter what was done to it.

And that was all they knew.

But now this man, the new High Chief of the Infinite Realms, said that not only did he know about Jason, no, he had seen him.

Curse, huh?

That may not be what had actually happened, but from his reaction alone it was certain that the young man had suffered greatly. It wasn't Danny's place to tell him the truth, so he just hummed.

"I see… Well. I didn't know about that," he said, lying through his smile, "I just remembered you being there, is all. I saw you."

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say, too. At least the entire room, the three newcomers included, looked at him with some sort of intense attention that he wasn't sure what to do with. Smiling didn't feel right for this kind of conversation, not with what they thought had happened. So instead, he raised an eyebrow, meeting the eyes of everyone around. "What's wrong…?"

"I… We don't know a lot about what happened," the other newcomer acknowledged carefully. No shit. But Danny didn't say that, only nodded along when the man continued: "Could you perhaps… tell us what you saw?"

No. Not if they all thought it was some curse. If it had caused them as much grief as what it looked like, Danny most certainly would not stand here and tell them that, actually, if was not a curse but a gift. But he couldn't just not say anything, either.

Sighing, Danny looked up at the unnecessarily fancy ceiling. "I remember seeing you lying in the sand when I returned from a visit to Frostbite. Some strange man dressed like a jester was leaving, so I think he was the one who'd left you there all roughed up."

The man's hands balled to a fist, the fire in his soul tinting his eyes green with power. "The Joker. Yeah, I knew that much."

Danny nodded in sympathy. He wished he knew who the one that left him in the Cursed Lands was, but looking at this man's anger now he was grateful for once that he didn't remember how he'd ended up chained there.

"Right…" Clearing his throat, Danny thought about how best to sum it up without saying too much. "Hiemes, son of Letate and Cael, died in those lands many centuries ago, back when the Infinite Lands were founded by the Ancients. He was the god of seasons and the only god who fought on the side of the Ancients. Ever since the curse was placed, many years after Hiemis' blood tainted the land there, the sand grows so cold at night that it freezes anything that touches it solid. But sometimes, the remains of his consciousness spare someone from that curse.

"He must have taken a liking to you, I suppose, because the sun was already setting when I found you and yet you were barely cold to the touch. I don't know what else happened, but I cut your restrains. You were barely conscious, but you dragged yourself across the border. I offered to help, to bring you home. But you… made it very clear what you thought about that idea."

"So you're saying Jason was cursed by a dead god?"

"Jason? Is that your name?" Danny hummed, not waiting for the answer. "Then, it's possible. Whatever happened was probably Hiemes' work. His consciousness is faint, though. Legend has it that he can't intervene often and that when he does, he lacks the absolute control over his powers that he used to have in life…"

When the silence stretched just a bit too long and Danny felt like he would be asked a question he couldn't answer without telling the man, Jason, that his curse was no curse at all, he smiled again. "But regardless of what happened in the past," he said, "I don't think we've been introduced yet, have we? I'm Phantom, High Chief of the Infinite Lands and prince Timothy's betrothed."

Chapter Text

"Why didn't you tell him?"

Sighing, Danny closed the door. At least Dan had waited until they were alone this time, even if he hadn't waited for the door to close. Still, he was getting better at this. A while ago, he would have just asked Danny in front of Prince Timothy when the prince had shown them to Danny's chambers. Or, worse yet, right then in the middle of the conversation.

Takt was a learned skill, apparently. Which sucked, because none of his family had much of it, so there really wasn't anyone skilled enough among them to teach the rest. Maybe Elle, if he had to name someone?

Hand still on the handle of the door, Danny carefully considered how to explain the thoughts and feelings in turmoil inside of him. "Because, Dan, he doesn't need to know. None of them do."

He could imagine his brother's frown even without looking. "Doesn't need to- What do you mean, they don't need to know?! He thinks he's cursed! Of course he needs to know!"

"He really doesn't," Danny insisted softly, finally turning to face his brother, back pressed against the door. Dan was sitting on the enormous bed - and, really, who even needed a bed so large? - scowling at him discontentedly. "It won't change anything - and I doubt they'd appreciate me telling him that the only reason why he suffers is because he's utilising it wrong. I'd just get a punch to the face, and that's if I'm lucky. So."

It was a bit cute, the confusion on Dan's face. It didn't fit, not with how rough around the edges Danny's brother usually was. He had a scary face, but… Well, he was technically only seven years old. If you didn't count the memories he'd gotten from Danny when he'd been born.

Danny forgot that, sometimes. That the reason Dan was physically older was just that he'd happened to get aged up the day he was born, not because he was actually older.

"What do you mean? Why would he punch you for helping?"

"He wouldn't see it as me helping," Danny answered as though it was so simple. In a way, it was. On the other hand, it also really wasn't.

"But… If he knew he wouldn't have to keep suffering. Right? He could learn how to use it!" Dan protested, eyebrows furrowed in something between confusion and anger on Danny's behalf.

Sighing, Danny pushed of the door and sat next to Dan. "I…"

Okay, then. How could he possibly explain this? Danny knew why, but suddenly none of the words he knew made any sense anymore. How could he even begin to articulate the conflicting emotions inside of him?

"The South is different from the Lands," Danny finally tried gingerly, "There's very little mana here. You can feel it, right? There's so litte of it that most people can't even use any magic. The Gods don't bestow blessings as generously as the Ancients, either. They only ever bless bloodlines, and only of their favourites. It's so bad that almost only the aristocrats have a blessing to begin with, and anything magic is insanely expensive. I don't remember much ever since… I received my first blessing. And I'm sure I used to know more and could've explained better back then, but… Dan, people here know barely anything about magic, especially not about our kind of it. Hell, they'll probably even find the Ancients to be suspicious!"

Shrugging, Dan nodded. "Yeah. You and Elle said so before we set off. I mean, the thing about the Ancients is stupid, obviously, but yeah. What has that to do with you getting punched, though?"

Urgh. Danny really wasn't great at the explaining thing. Was there anything he could use as a reference? Something Dan knew that was similar enough? Erm… Ah!

"You like to use fire magic, right?"

Visibly thrown off by the random change in subject, Dan nodded. "Yeah. It's handy. You can use it to melt the attacks of others, to warm yourself up, to create shelter, to deal damage or just for everyday tasks. It's very versatile. Why?"

Danny smiled. "Because you didn't use to like it. Remember? When we first met, when you were born, you hated it. There was barely anything about fire magic in the memories you got from me. You knew I had to be especially careful around it because of my blessing, but nothing else. Then you came across it and got burned. And for a while, that was all you knew about it. Just the fear someone else had and the pain you remembered, nothing else. Do you remember?"

Dan's eyes glowed a deeper red, more the colour of rubies than that of blood, when he lit up with understanding. "I was scared," he nodded slowly, "I hated it, and I wanted it to just disappear. I didn't want it anywhere near me. Or to even think about it. Didn't trust anyone who used it either."

His mouth twisted at the memory. For some reason, however, his gaze was even more determined than before when he looked up again. "But- You showed me, though! You told me I was wrong and you proved it. You can show him, too!"

Shaking his head, Danny griped Dan by his shoulders gently. "I can't."

"Of course you can! You did it before."

Sighing again, Danny held Dan's eyes for a second before he spoke: "Dan. I showed you after we became family. You trusted me by then. More than your own experience, even - that's why you allowed me to prove it. And even then, it took years of convincing until I got you that far."

"Yeah, but…"

Geez. Where did Dan get that stubbornness from? Actually, no, don't answer that. Danny had a feeling he knew the answer already…

"Think about it, brother," Danny asked, squeezing Dan's shoulder, "Would you have trusted me if I told you when we were still enemies? Or when you just turned your back on Pariah? Hell, would you have trusted Vlad if he'd been the one telling you?"

"I wouldn't have trusted Vlad no matter what he'd said," Dan deadpanned. And honestly? Fair. Still, Danny couldn't just let him gloss over the rest of what he'd said. So he only raised a meaningful eyebrow at him and waited until Dan finally sighed and shook his head. "I wouldn't've."

Smirking up at his brother, Danny nodded. "Exactly! And this is the same for him. They don't know anything about blessings, except for what they saw in the war. We know how beautiful it can be, but they only remember the pain. We only just managed to end the ages long animosity, Dan. Tensions still run high. We haven't earned their trust yet. A chance, maybe, but not their trust. That takes time, especially when we've dealt so much pain to them before. I mean, you know what our side did! Maybe even more than I do - you've seen it when you were still one of Pariah's commanders.

"And Prince Jason? He only knows how painful the magic within him can be. How… destructive. He knows what it took from him, but not what it gave him in exchange. Now, if I, who is basically a stranger to him, were to suddenly tell him that he was wrong about it, that it was actually a good thing and demand that he just trust me on this… Do you think he would?"

Dan sighed defeatedly. "I can see why he would punch you now," he hesitatingly admitted. Danny knew full well that Dan was forgiving the prince for the imaginary punch to Danny's face that hadn't even happened at that exact moment. But despite it leading to the forgiveness for hypothetical punches, Dan looked incredibly unsatisfied with that conclusion as he leaned back with a sigh.

Danny could sympathise with that. He didn't like it either. But that was just how it was, unfortunately.

"So, we're just gonna, what? Say we can't do anything for him and leave it at that?" Dan glanced over, mouth still twisted downward. "We can't just… just… abandon him with that! It's not a good enough reason to let him suffer like that when he doesn't have to."

No. They couldn't. But it wasn't the only reason.

After all, a curse was one thing, but a blessing? After all, not every Southerner reacted well to the revelation that their child was blessed by the magic of the Lands. Danny would know, after all his own parents had said-

Well. When Danny had watched his own funeral from afar, cast away by the same parents that had been mourning him that day, he had felt a weird mix of anger about having a funeral when he was still alive and happiness that so many people had shown up.

Even his mother's cousin had attended with his own son, even though he had way better things to do at the time. Of course, that had kind of lead to the death of both his parents and that cousin. But still, it was nice to know the two of them had cared.

It was even nicer to have seen his second cousin alive when he'd arrived in Gotham. He'd heard that he'd come back from wherever he'd disappeared, of course. Just shortly after Danny had learned about that disappearance in the first place, too. But he hadn't seen the man since, just heard rumours about him.

Even if he'd changed a lot, Danny was so incredibly relieved to have seen Oliver alive and apparently without any major injuries. Which, of course, he would only allow himself to admit this once, to himself, in the confines of his own mind. Since Daniel James Fenton was officially dead, and Phantom was officially a child of the Infinite Lands. So it wasn't like he could just claim the king as his family, just because they shared some blood.

Regardless.

He wouldn't risk someone else going through the same treatment he had. Not until he was absolutely sure that they wouldn't abandon him if it was a blessing rather than a curse, if he was a part of the Infinite Land's magic rather than a victim of it. After all, would the royal family of Gotham react the same as his parents had? Would Prince Jason himself do so, even?

Danny couldn't say, so he couldn't risk it.

He also couldn't let Dan know about it.

So he just let himself fall back on the way too bouncy bed and hummed noncommittally. "I'll see what I can do. But Dan?" Dan made a noise in response. "I can't promise anything. It's not our place to meddle in the first place."

"There's something about Jason that High Chief Phantom is not telling us. Lord Dantrey knows about it, too."

Slowly, carefully, Bruce closed the book he'd been reading. Damian, too, placed down his pencil. Across the room, Duke stopped pacing and sat on the nearest sofa. Dick, too, turned away from where he'd watched Steph and Jason sparr in the gardens, Barbs with them so she could intervene if she had to.

Seconds ticked by in silence, all of their eyes focused on Tim. It was Damian who broke the moment, eyes narrowed and scowl firmly in place. "Explain."

"When I showed them to their chambers," Tim quietly said, "Lord Dantrey kept giving High Chief Phantom those looks. And the High Chief ignored it, but… They talked about it. I overheard them when I walked away."

"And what, exactly, did they say?" Bruce asked, lips pressed into a firm line.

"Lord Dantrey asked him why he didn't tell Jason. He didn't say what, but Phantom seemed to understand. He closed the door before he answered, so I didn't hear much else. But he said that it was because apparently he didn't need to know. I gather, from the way his brother sounded, that they disagree on that. Although I couldn't make out anything after that, no matter how much I tried. Phantom must have walked away from the door, I suppose."

"That… doesn't sound good," Dick hummed. Unfortunately, he was right. Even less fortunately, that was pretty much an understatement.

"We can't let Todd know," Damian decided grimly, index tapping a soft rhythm onto his drawing paper as he thought, "It is a miracle already that that imbecile didn't loose what little restraints he has, with the revelations of today."

"Yeah," Dick agreed absentmindedly, "I'm worried, too… You're right, it might be a bit too much for him. Do you think he'll do something rash?"

"I think he'd do something drastic," Tim sighed, sitting on the next available surface, "And we can't afford to make them angry. Especially if we want them to tell us."

"Perhaps…" Duke cleared his throat, wavering for a second before his eyes became sharp with intent again. "It's a long shot. But if they disagree on it, maybe we can convince Lord Dantrey to tell us. You said he sounded… adamant that they should tell us, right?"

But Bruce shook his head even before Tim could voice his doubts. "No. The warriors of the Infinite Lands are a drastic bunch to begin with. If Phantom told them to, I don't doubt all of them would throw themselves off the next cliff. And Dantrey is famous for being especially loyal to his brother, to the point where that is the first thing he is known for. And if what he said to us is true, he even entered a magic pact so that he can't hurt Phantom anymore no matter what, so I don't doubt those rumours as of yet. He might disagree, but he wouldn't go against him."

"We still have better chances with him than with Phantom, though," Dick chimed in, "We could… I don't know. Trick him into telling us something, at least. Maybe we can convince Phantom if we get enough intel."

"It's too risky," Bruce insisted sternly. "If this goes wrong and he get angry about being interrogated…"

Tim would suffer for it, he didn't say. Still, Tim knew what he meant. Knew what exactly was too risky about it. And, really, he just couldn't have that. So he shook his head. "We should do it. Jason needs the intel. It might be the key to finally helping him with the curse."

"Jay wouldn't want to put your safety at risk for it, Timmy," Dick softly reminded him. But Tim only smirked defiantly at that.

"Well," he said, "Then it's a good thing he isn't here to object. Because I am going to do it anyways."

"You're an idiot," Steph informed Jason in between pants.

Jason, equally out of breath but feeling a lot better now that he'd gotten to work some of his tension out, smirked. "That so? Good thing Imma need strength to fight 'im and not brains."

"What'd the others say?" Steph asked, one eyebrow raised even as he stayed sprawled on the floor as she was. Jason, who had propped himself up against a tree to save some of his dignity, only gave her a look. "Ah. That answers that, I guess. Stupid question, sorry I asked."

"Right…" Jason turned his eyes up to look at the grey skies above. "But it ain't right ta leave it at that, y'know? I dunno 'bout cha, but I ain't about to watching my baby brother get carted off somewhere like that. Kid don't deserve that."

"He doesn't," Steph agreed, turning onto her side to look at Jason now, at least, "But if you fail…"

"So I'm not gonna fail." Like, duh.

"But what if you do?"

"But what if I don't?"

Groaning, Steph took a moment to try and merge with the ground. When that didn't work, she glared at Jason. The smudges of dirt on her forehead did not help her case, but there was some impressive heat behind that glare.

"So. Let me get this straight." She heaved a sigh and sat up, though her wince - even more impressive than her glare - gave Jason the impression that she regretted doing so already. "You want to challenge Lord Dantrey, the High Chief's brother and one of the most accomplished warriors in the Infinite Lands, to a duel. And you want to place the condition that the winner can ask any one favour of the looser. If - and that is if - you win, you want to use that favour to make Dantrey convince Phantom to cancel the wedding."

"Well, I don't have much of a chance against Phantom himself, do I?"

Sighing deeply, Steph rubbed her hands down her face. "Jason. I love you, you know I do."

"Yuck."

"Shut up, I'm the honorary family member. I'm allowed to have mushy feelings. Anyway, you I love you. But, Jason… We're talking about Lord Dantrey here. You know, the fucking head of the army of the Infinite Lands. And… You know who he probably is, don't you?"

Jason did. How could he not? Jason had figured it'd be him the moment Bruce had recounted what information the brothers had let slip during their fake ass "negotiations". Because apparently, Dantrey had abdicated and had done their weird magic ritual of allegiance to Phantom.

"There were rumours about The Shadow in Crime Ally when I was a kid," Jason admitted, a frown etched onto his face, "They came up after I'd joined B, not long before the war ended, but those rumours were loud enough that I still caught wind of them. They said he was a gifted warrior, strong even by Infinite Lands standard. Pariah Dark's first general, his right hand and executioner. Ruthless and vicious, but not loyal to Pariah. Just out for the bloodshed and pain the war brought instead. He disappeared from the battle field one day, just after Amity Park fell. There were rumours that he… changed sides. Swore an oath to the rebel leader and promised to be his guard forever."

"Right. And chances are, Lord Dantrey and The Shadow are one and the same person! You've heard what he did, right? To our people? And to those who defied him?" Steph shook her head viciously. "You've got no chance, Jay. Not against that."

She was probably right was the curse of it. But…

"So what do you suggest I do? Fight Phantom himself instead? I'm not that crazy, Steph."

"You could hold your feet still…" One look was enough to make Steph sigh. "Okay, you're right. You couldn't."

There was a long beat of silence. Then, the knight finally groaned. "Fine! Fine, I'll help ya. I'll try to get an opportunity for you… But don't you dare die! No one would be happy about that, and you're no use to anyone dead."

Jason wanted to remind Steph once again that he had no desire to die, but Barbs he noticed Barbs coming back with two bottles of water. She'd be in hearing range soon, and they could not let anyone know about this. They'd just try to stop him. So he just shut his mouth for now and nodded.

"What were you guys talking about?" Barbs asked a moment later as she passed a cup of water to each of them.

Giving Jason a look, Steph sighed dramatically. "Nothing! I'm to beat to talk."

Barbs didn't look like she believed it, but when Jason just shrugged she didn't press. Steph on the other hand drowned her water in one gulp and fell back onto her back again. "Urgh! I swear, Barbs, my muscles are melting! I'm never moving again, knight's honour."

Jason couldn't help the snort at that. "Your honour won't be worth much if you invoke it for every shit you say."

Steph raised an eyebrow at him. "Bitch, I'm from the Narrows. My honour was never worth crap."

Chapter Text

"Your highness." Phantom inclined his head as he greeted Tim, a pleasant smile on his face.

Surprised by the sudden visit, Tim stood - and made sure to hide the plans he'd been working on with his siblings since earlier. He just had to hope that the High Chief hadn't already seen it. He was pretty sure the Infinite Lands, too, would consider something like this treason.

Phantom, however, didn't look angry when Tim bowed to him in greeting. Instead, his smile deepened. "Ah. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Ha! As if Tim could tell him if he did. Hilarious, really. "Of course not. How may I help you?"

"I was hoping we could spend some time, actually? To, ehm, get to know each other a bit better?" His smile looked a bit nervous, actually. If Tim wasn't so scared of what he meant by that or of fucking this up, he would've thought it looked cute. The way he rubbed his neck sure was.

Closing the drawer he'd pushed his papers into, Tim nodded. "Of course. What would you like to do?"

"Oh! Uhm. I didn't… think I'd get this far?"

Huh? He thought that Tim would've said no? To his face? Surely not. That must've been a bad joke. Right? Unless he thought Tim was really that stupid. Then again, he wasn't acting like he'd expected Tim to mess up. Just… relieved that Tim had agreed? Huh.

Now that he thought about it, Tim guessed Phantom had treated him pretty leniently ever since they got engaged. All things considered, that is. Maybe he actually…

No. That was stupid. Being engaged as a glorified political hostage was no reason why Phantom should care. Tim knew better than that, he shouldn't be thinking stuff like that. It'd only make his work harder.

So he smiled again, chasing those kinds of thoughts away. Walking over to Phantom and making sure to close his door behind himself, not turning his back to the warlord, Tim suggested: "How about a walk through the garden?"

Please, gods, let him like plants.

"A garden? Really?" For a moment, Tim felt his heart stop and the air turning into solid, unbreathable stone. Then, the High Chief's face lit up in an excited smile. "You have those here?! I- Ah. Stupid question, my apologies. It's just… We don't."

"You don't have gardens, your majesty?" Tim hoped but doubted that he could hide the scepticism in his voice. An entire nation without any gardens seemed… unlikely. Why wouldn't they have any, after all?

Well, there had been rumours that even the plants in the Infinite Lands were so filled with magic that they were dangerous and out for your blood. But, surely that had only been just that, right? Silly rumours? There was no way it was true. Right?

For the sake of his own sanity, Tim decided he would think of it like that.

Phantom hummed as they walked next to each other through the palace halls. "Well… I love my home. Really, I do. But I'd have to lie if I wanted to say that it's fertile ground." He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, eyes suddenly looking far-off. "Actually, it didn't use to be a problem. Regardless of the infertile soil, we used to have a lot of plants everywhere. Flowers and green as far as you could see. But, truthfully, Undergrowth abandoned us mortals a while ago. And since he doesn't help us any longer…"

Tim knew he probably shouldn't push his luck, especially since Phantom had probably just accidentally revealed too much information about a state secret to him. But he couldn't help himself, so he still asked: "Undergrowth?"

Again, Phantom hummed. "The Ancient of Vegetation. He's the son of Silvad. Your god of nature?" He waited for Tims affirming nod before continuing. "Undergrowth used to be very kind to us. But he always did value plants above any sentient lifeforms. So a couple of generations ago, he decided that since we didn't appreciate and revere nature enough, we did not deserve his blessings. Nowadays, you can barely find any natural plants outside of his forest."

"His forest?" Wincing internally, Tim noted that he had, apparently, taken on Bruce's habit of repeating stuff to ask about it. A nasty habit that he should nip in the bud, at least now that he would have to live on enemy territory for what was probably the entire rest of his life. He didn't have that kind of leeway any longer, he would do well to remember that.

Fortunately for all of Gotham, Phantom did not seem to mind that he was being terribly rude right now. Instead, he only nodded once again. "Yeah. You see, dragons always have a lair. And the Ancients are dragons, in a way. Their layers are special, because they are special. They can change the laws of reality, you know? Just… decide they don't like how something works and not go along with it. It's real impressive when you see it. And they all did that to create their very own lair, where they live now."

How much of that was true and how much was just religion, Tim wondered idly. Though he at least knew better than to blurt out that question.

"There's Frostbite's tundra in the South, somewhere east of the Cursed Lands," Phantom mused, counting on his fingers, "Vortex's mountain even further east. Nocturn's crystal caverns in the North. Pandora's castle in the West. Clockwork's tower in the Southwest. And, of course, Undergrowth's forest slab-dap in the middle of the Infinite Lands."

He glanced over at Tim smiling, a somewhat thoughtful look on his face. "You see, usually everyone is welcome in the Ancients' lairs. If you dare cause harm or go against them, there'll be extreme consequences and a large price to pay, of course. But visitors are mostly always allowed in. Their lairs are neutral ground, too. Sacred. If you go there, the the resident Ancient grants you permission to stay, no one can harm you. Many have come to live there to seek asylum. Some have lived there for generations.

"Frostbite is the one they mostly come to for that. He's known to take great care of his own, and as long as you pull your weight and don't hurt anyone you will remain under your protection. Only those that betrayed him or his, or those who've done truly awful things to another person will be chased out. Which is why Frostbite saying you can't enter his lair is the same as being excommunicated and declared an outlaw at the same time. Word spreads and people… won't really be inclined to help you, if not even Frostbite won't. So only really stupid folk even consider trying.

"And I guess Clockwork is the second choice - he only grants people asylum for short amounts of time, but he will do so unless it would cause harm to the Infinite Lands as a whole. If you being chased out is what needs to happen, as he would put it. There has, as far as I know, only been one exception so far. A child, only a single one, that he allowed to stay longer than necessary, whom he offered a home in his lair. But that child, too, has moved out eventually.

"There others are… Well, you can't really know beforehand whether or not they'll grant you protection. So barely anyone even asks, not if they can go to Frostbite first. And if Frostbite turned them down, there's no way the others would look upon them more favourably anyways. The same with Clockwork: If he says protecting you would be bad for the future, none of the other Ancients would help you. Though the people still might, in contrast to when Frostbite rejects you.

"But Undergrowth's forest is different. No one can enter without permission, or the woods will kill them. Only those with his blessing can come and go as they please. Or, well. Most of those with his blessing. Those in his good graces. And there's… very few of them. One, currently. So no one even knows what it's like in there."

That was a lot to digest. Tim itched to write it all down and share it with his family. It was valuable information! And so freely given…

Which kind of gave Tim a bad feeling actually. Because why, pray tell, would Phantom just share so much so freely? Why wouldn't he be concerned about Tim doing just what he was going to do and share this information? Shouldn't it be kept secret, hidden behind the border as everything else concerning the Infinite Lands?

"And why…" Tim cleared his throat, hoping, praying that he wasn't pushing too far, "I'm very thankful that you explained it to me in such great detail, your majesty. Though may I inquire why you would tell some outsider such vulnerable information of your home?"

Phantom didn't answer for a moment, and Tim really hoped he couldn't see how that made Tim's hand tremble as he held open the door to Alfred's garden. They walked next to each other in silence for a long moment before Phantom spoke up again, softly this time and without looking at Tim. Instead, he crouched down to admire the roses as he spoke:

"Well, I don't really see an issue with it, I suppose. What harm could it do when people know about our religion or our religious practices? It's not like they're secret. But if you really do need a reason for it…" Phantom gently picked up one of the fallen petals that Alfred had apparently not come around to picking up yet. He raised it to his nose to smell it, ever so careful not to crush it, and a soft smile graces his lips. A soft smile that made his eyes glow brighter and his teeth look a the slightest bit sharper than they should. "I would say it's the same reason I asked you for your time today."

Ah. So there really had been an ulterior motive to that. Tim had known as much already, but he was a bit surprised to have it acknowledged. Not daring to ask what that reason was, not when he'd already asked so many questions earlier, Tim remained silent.

Next to him, Phantom stood, petal still in hand. "Prince Timothy." The way he met Tim's eyes almost made him take a step back, but he caught himself before he followed through. "This whole… arrangement may be political in origin, but I don't see a reason why we can't be civil. I would like to be on friendly terms, I mean." Finally, finally Phantom broke eye contact, looking up towards the gloomy sky instead. "I am aware that you don't love me right now. I can't say I do either. But, who knows? Maybe one day that could change." He looked back towards Tim. "Unless, of course, you're opposed?"

"Of course not, not at all!" He'd be an utter idiot to be opposed to that. He certainly was shocked that the ridiculous thought he'd had earlier had actually proven to be right. And he most definitely knew better than to think there wouldn't be strings attached to this wonderful, great, too-good-to-be-true offer. "What, uhm. What would that entail, exactly, your majesty?"

Phantom smiled again, eyes shining brighter. "First off all, you could stop calling me 'your majesty' all the time. Call me Phantom, please." He took a deep breath for some reason, hand rubbing his neck as he glanced away for a second. "And. When we're alone, you could call me Danny."

Call him by his name? That was… unexpected. Informality had been the last of what Tim had expected Phantom to ask for. But… "Why Danny?"

"Hm?" For a second, Phantom looked confused. Then, something seemed to occur to him. "Oh. Danny is derived from my given name. My family calls me that. Phantom is my alias, so that's what the general public calls me."

"Your… alias?" Ah. He was back to repeating words, wasn't he?

Phantom nodded, smirking at Tim. "Yeah! Everyone in the Lands has one. You see, it's incredibly rude to call someone by a name they haven't given you permission to use in our culture. Given names are for those close to you only, for those you trust. Strangers, most friends and acquaintances usually only know or at least only use your chosen name, or alias as it's officially called."

Huh. Well, that was good to know. "Is there a meaning behind the custom?"

He didn't want to ask more questions - though he certainly wanted more answers - but he really thought they needed to know this. Something told Tim that it was important. What would have happened if they'd gotten that one wrong? Would they have let it go, like the 'unarmored' thing during the 'negotiations'? Somehow he doubted they would've been that lucky twice.

"Yes." Phantom thought, then shook his head. "No. I mean… Both? It developed because of the history of the Infinite Lands. Now it's symbolic and a form of curtesy, but it used to be because-"

Tim didn't get to know because of what it used to be, as just when Phantom was about to tell him a young man with an array of red symbols painted on his face ran over to them. One of the guards the royal siblings had arrived in Gotham with.

He nodded to Tim and Phantom, then hissed like a snake at Phantom. Which instantly made the man frown. "What is it?"

Not good. That wasn't good at all.

Oh, no…

"Sir Dantrey and his highness are currently headed for the training fields to engage in a duel, High Chief."

What?!

Panicked, Tim turned to Phantom to explain that this wasn't an insult, his brother - which ever one it had been - hadn't meant it. But the man looked like he'd just eaten an unripe lemon, eyes narrowed in a glare. "Oh~?" he hummed dangerously, "And which Prince would that be?"

"The second one, prince… Jason, was it? It was his highness that asked for a duel. Sir Dantrey invites you to come watch."

Before Tim could even try to deescalate, Phantom grabbed his hand and stormed off towards where the guard had come from, face thunderous. Oh, gods…

"A duel?"

The little prince gave a curt nod, arms still crossed defiantly. Dantrey considered the man in front of him in turn, considered his stature and the way he held himself. He looked well-trained, at least. His physique could almost rival Dantrey's own, even. And there was this fire in his eyes… Well, it wasn't the prince that had been trained by the Al Ghul line, but still a prince of Gotham. Dantrey had to admit that he was curious.

He hummed. "So. Let me make sure I understand correctly: You-" he pointed at the prince with a circular motion "-want to challenge me-" he gestured to himself at that "-to a duel. Right now. Knowing both what my position is and who I am to Phantom. Out of your own volition. While neither I nor anyone else had coerced or threatened or otherwise forced you to do that?"

The prince frowned at that. "Yes," he hissed, clearly annoyed, "Problem?"

And Dan could understand that. He himself hated to be questioned like this when he proposed a duel. But he just had to make sure. So he shook his head. "No, not really. Just making sure. My brother told me not to pick a fight, you know? But if you're the one that wants to fight, that's different." Because Danny had also told him to make the Gotham royalty happy. "So this is perfect, actually. I really wanted to try fighting one of you, anyways…"

Something shifted in the prince's face for a moment. "If this is going to be a problem for our brothers-"

Not wanting the man to change his mind, Dan quickly waved that thought off. "It won't be. Probably. Anyways, I'm not one to back down from a fight. So, Rain?" Iver, who had been guarding the quarters off to the side and born witness to everything since the prince had come knocking, quickly joined Dan's side. "Find my brother and tell him about this. And how it came to be. Tell him he'll want to come see."

With a nod, Iver ran off. It left a small surge of irritation with Dan, who knew that the man would've bowed to Danny or Ellie. He'd noticed it a couple of times during their trip, too. He was… not happy about Dan. Or rather, about Dan's origin, if he wasn't mistaken. And it wasn't a big deal! Really, it wasn't. He didn't need all the fancy curtesy he got as Danny's brother, and the man still obeyed orders and did his job. It was just… It stung. Knowing why someone usually so loyal had an attitude towards him.

Part of him didn't care much. Danny was on his side. So was Elle, and Jazz. Everyone important was on his side, really. And they, especially Danny, those were the people had cared about. The ones he actually wanted to approve of him. The ones he'd worked to get trusted by. The ones that mattered.

Another, unfortunately larger part of him felt differently. Cried that it was unfair, that he had proven himself over and over and over again. That he wasn't just what being a Shadowborn made him. Hated that something so simple carried so much weight. Hated that he couldn't change it, could never change it, would never be more than that to any of them.

Hated, despised, raged about how Danny had felt the need to deny him his own homeland if the twerp wouldn't be able to protect him anymore, just because of them.

But they were wrong, he knew. Danny, Danny was the one that was right. And he'd never stop proving that, no matter what. He'd never disappoint the people that mattered, the people that were family like that. So in a great show of strength, he didn't react to the slight against him and turned towards the prince instead.

"Shall we?"

The prince had watched him go through those emotions, Dan noticed belatedly. And he looked a bit thoughtful, maybe even concerned, for a second. How nice of him, though entirely unnecessary. But before Dan could say as much, the prince gave a firm nod, determination shining in his eyes even stronger than before. "Yeah. Let's go."

Chapter Text

Jason was frustrated. No matter what he did, he didn't even manage to scratch the guy! Meanwhile his own arm and leg throbbed in pain and his muscles were getting sore. His breath came in heavy pants and his hold on the sword was slipping due to all the sweat.

Dantrey didn't even seem to be out of breath.

It was a huge blow to the ego to fight this guy, really. No matter what he tried, Dantrey was better at it. If he attacked with pure strength, he would be stronger. If Jason tried to go for swift attacks, the guy would be even faster in blocking the attack. If Jason tried to manoeuvre him into a corner, he would switch their positions in the last moment and take the fight back into the middle of the field.

He didn't have a chance. Jason had realised as much five minutes into the fight. If he did win, it would be pure luck. And Jason didn't have a lot of that.

He also didn't have a lot of options, either. So he still kept going. Kept hoping for the impossible.

How did Dantrey make this fight look so effortless anyways? It was like he was dancing rather than fighting. Not in the graceful way that Cass danced, while fighting or while on a stage. No, like the chaotic dances he'd seen some of the barbarians do in their celebrations during the war, where they all danced with wide gestures around a fire.

It pissed Jason off. Not in the ugly, green kind but still.

It pissed him off even more since he wouldn't be able to keep Tim away from this man. Or his supposedly even stronger brother. Fuck!

The prince was pretty good. Not as good as Dan, but it was a close thing. With magic that would've been different, but they'd agreed to neither use magic nor blessings in this duel of theirs, just to even the playing field.

Dan wasn't sure how long it had been since they'd started fighting, but it'd been long enough for Dan to start getting out of breath a little. Which in itself was a pretty high accomplishment.

As a Shadowborn, Dan had heightened physical abilities. It took long for him to get out of breath, he could survive on almost no food or water, and he didn't tire easily. He was strong, too, and it was telling that the prince could almost match that strength. His technique was remarkable, too, manoeuvring to even the odds whenever his strength fell short of Dan's.

Not many fights, with magic or without, ever lasted long enough for Dan to actually break a sweat or get out of breath. It was why he preferred to sparr against groups or against Danny, when he could. But the Gothamite had managed.

The little prince - Jason. He was a good fighter, a warrior. He deserved being addressed by name. Jason had sustained a couple of smaller injuries over the fight. A couple of gashes, some bruises. Nothing deep, Dan made sure of it. Still, he idly wondered whether Danny would be angry with him for it? If so it wouldn't be fair, since Jason had been the one to insist they use real swords.

Something told Dan that Danny wouldn't care about that detail.

That something was the downright pissed expression he had when he entered the training hall. Prince Timothy was with him, Dan noticed, but didn't have to time concentrate as Jason's sword slashed down on him again. He actually had to brace himself to hold against it and didn't see how the prince swiped against his feet. Instinctually, Dan rolled out of the way of the next attack and back onto his feet.

Really impressive.

Still. Danny was here, and Dan had already pissed him off. So he probably shouldn't waste this chance. As much as he'd enjoyed the spar and wanted to keep going, that was not the reason he had invited Danny to see for himself. He wouldn't get an opportunity like this again, probably, and for Jason's sake that was more important.

So Dan smirked at the prince when he turned, mockingly cooing at him. "Was that an attack? You're like a playing kitten, you know?"

The prince scoffed, shaking out his hand. "Shut up."

Hm. No flash of green… So it wasn't that, huh? Well, no use dwelling on it. It just meant he would have to keep trying. One way or the other, Dan knew he would be able to figure out what'd trigger the other man's blessing. Dan had a gift for pressing people's buttons, after all.

An opening! Finally.

Jason wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that the guy was distracted by something. Not one to waste this opportunity, Jason swung with all that he had. His arm felt like it was about to fall off and he knew every muscle in his body would give him hell tomorrow, but he still put all that he found left in himself into that strike.

In the last second, Dantrey raised his own sword to deflect. At least this time it looked like he was trying when he held against Jason. Fucking, fine, then!

Jason had grown up in the alleys of a doomed town right on the border in times of war. He had been caught and trained by the Al Ghul family when he'd been out of his mind with the curse. So, yeah, he could do dirty. He knew how to fight people bigger, stronger, better than him. And right now that was what he was doing.

So he took his uninjured leg and swiped Bigger-Stronger-Better's feet from right under him. Tried to follow the attack up by stabbing the damn ass in the arm - but, a-fucking-gain, he reacted in the last second, rolling away and onto his feet.

Something shone in the guy's eyes as Jason tried to find his next vantage point, tried to find anything he hadn't tried and failed at yet, and tried to catch his breath all at once. He didn't know what it was, but Jason had had enough experience on the streets to know that it wasn't good when his opponent's eyes gleamed like that in this kind of situation.

Suddenly, the ass broke a cocky smirk. For the first time since the duel had started, he spoke up: "Aw… Was that an attack? You're like a playing kitten, you know?"

What the-

Was the asshole mocking him right now? Fucking shithead! So much for warrior's honour, then.

Annoyed with his opponent but mostly angry with himself, Jason got back into a fighting stance. This was about Tim, damnit. This was about his family, all of them. And yet he couldn't even… He had known it was a bleak situation. That the odds were stacked against him and it'd take a lot of luck or, hell, even a miracle for him to win this. But now the fucker had the nerve to even mock him with it?

Scoffing, he tried to get a better grip on his sword. "Shut up," he growled.

As soon as he had, his nerves spiked. What if that'd made him angry? What if Jason retaliating like this would make Tim's situation even worse?

"Are you going to come fight me or do you just want to keep staying there? Stop stalling already, before you grow roots over there. Isn't this what you wanted anyways?"

You know what, fuck that guy. Jason would worry about his big mouth later. "Oh, I'mma fight you, alright."

Before he could do anything, though, Dantrey attacked him. Left, right, left, left, up, down- It was all he could do to deflect, all but stumbling backwards. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-

Hm. So it wasn't being belittled and it wasn't being questioned either. Not that he'd really expected them to be, Jason didn't strike him as the type.

What else could it be… Honour? His strength? Or-

Whoops! Quickly crouching down to dodge beneath the swing directed at his upper arm, Dan suppressed an impressed chirp. He had to rile the guy up, after all, not show his admiration. There was time for that later.

For now he had to goat him. Hm… "You're not holding back on me, are you? Because if this is all you can do-"

Whoa!

Hastily, Dan fell onto the floor and used his foot to throw the charging prince behind himself. Back to the middle of the ring again, huh?

Wait, what was he saying just now? Ah, right. Standing back up, he tried to keep the admiration out of his smirk. "Are you sure you can even keep your promise? I mean, what kind of favour could I even ask of someone so… Well. I'm sure you have mirrors somewhere in this castle. Don't you?"

Okay, so by the looks of it, Jason was neither especially set on getting stronger nor was he especially vain. Either one would have triggered the blessing at least a little…

Right. Next try, then.

Oh, this was bad. This was terrible. Way worse than he'd expected, even.

Sir Dantrey was obviously mocking Jason. If this went on it would only be a matter of time until he said something that was a sore subject and then…

Would Phantom, Danny? Would he acknowledge that it was the curse and not Jason who'd… do whatever he'd do once it was triggered? Would the Infinite Lands acknowledge that it had been Sir Dantrey who had activated it in the first place?

He doubted it. He really, really doubted it. But just when Tim was about to intercept before a political incident happened-

"Don't." Phantom gently grabbed Tim's arm, holding him back. He wasn't even looking at Tim, attention entirely on the fight happening in front of them.

"What?" Nervously, Tim glanced back. Jason was looking awfully angry and frustrated right now. "But… Yo- Phantom, I fear my brother's curse is about to…"

"I know," Phantom nodded solemnly, "That's exactly what Dantrey is trying to do. He isn't careless enough to mock an opponent he respects, after all."

What? "He respects Jason?"

Phantom gave a firm nod, eyes narrowing at something he was seeing. "Yes. My brother respects everyone strong enough to match him in a fight. I must say, I'm impressed, too. It's been a while since I met someone who could exhaust him this much."

Match him in a fight? Exhaust him?

Tim looked back toward the fighting area where Jason was panting, covered in minor wounds, sweaty and obviously at his end. And where Dantrey walked around him with light steps, barely out of breath, unwounded and with just the slightest sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"I see…" he lied, not daring to point as much out to Phantom. He was probably just being polite anyways, trying not to call Tim's brother weak. "And why, pray tell, would he want to trigger the curse?"

Hopefully not to use it as an excuse for something, or to cause a political incident. They had enough to worry about, they didn't need sabotage on top of everything.

But Phantom just sighed, exasperated. "He wants me to see."

Like that made any sense. Or helped with Tim's worry for that matter. But… He didn't dare question the High Chief's brother further, either.

"I see…" he lied again.

Finally, Phantom glanced at Tim. Just for half a second, but it was enough. "He's my brother," Phantom sighed, "I'll take responsibility."

Ah. So not to cause a political incident, then. Well, that was something at least. Right? Gods, let it be enough of a something!

Dread and concern heavy in his stomach, Tim stayed back and could do little more than watch.

It was starting to get really difficult to avoid Jason's blows. As time went on, the prince seemed to have figured out Dantrey's patterns. He was quick to adapt. Fought violently and rough, too. It made Dan wonder what his life had been like before joining royalty - because if this fight told Dan one thing it was that he wasn't born into the stuffy restrains of diplomacy.

That was a lie. The fight told him many things about Prince Jason of Gotham, really.

Jason had a past. An ugly one he grew past, but not one he was ashamed by.

Jason was quick to adapt and quick on the uptake. He knew how to got with the flow, how to answer to any and all of the nonverbal things Dan spoke with his own blade.

Jason fought more on opportunity and training rather than relying on strategy. He didn't waste time to map out a plan and didn't hesitate when things didn't go as he thought they would.

Jason was used to fighting people who did fight relying on strategy rather than their instincts and talents. Which meant that the rest of the royal family was likely to overthink things.

Jason had a great deal of strength and was quick, and he wasn't used to having people match that. He was used to holding back, sometimes even did so unconsciously during their sparr.

Jason was good at hiding his intentions. Dan had trouble telling what kind of attack would come until he could do nothing more than react, and if he himself didn't do it all the time Dan would have thought Jason was making a new plan, not catching his breath and trying to find Dan's weak spots.

That was another thing: Jason didn't have a great deal of stamina. Not compared to the rest of his physical abilities he displayed. He wasn't used to his fights taking long. Or, he wasn't used to fighting the same person for a long time, if Dan had to guess.

Jason was the type to concentrate so strongly he forgot what was around him, apparently. Didn't seem to have noticed prince Timothy and Danny's entrance at all. Either that or he could control his reactions well enough that Dan hadn't noticed, but if he'd read the prince right that couldn't be it.

And Jason was protective of his family, too. Whenever Dan faced the entrance or when the fight drew closer to it, the prince unconsciously tensed and his attacks became even more vicious. Like he despised the idea to bring the fight into his home.

Dan could understand that Jason didn't trust him yet. They had been enemies less than a week ago, after all, and Dan had played a key role in the last war. It would've concerned him if there had been no distrust at all, actually. He still hoped that the fight would help with that, though. He was certain Jason was learning just as many things about Dan as he was about Jason.

Still, this wasn't a fight he could prolong nor one where he could hold back. It felt nice, knowing that. Having to try. Maybe Jason felt the same? Dan hoped so.

Unfortunately, that also meant he had very little time to think about how he could taunt the guy. And since he would need a lot of his strength - which was already leaving him, this fight was exhausting - to get to know Jason's blessing as well…

Dan had resorted to manoeuvres meant to disarm Jason a little while ago. But when he managed to hook his sword underneath Jason's in an attemt to throw it out of the other's grab, the prince was able to hold against it, like all the other times.

Shit. If this kept going, Dan would definitely loose.

He was able to match Jason, sure, and he was just the slightest bit stronger and faster. His own fighting style was more intended for long battles, too, so he did have the upper hand for a bit in the middle there. But Jason was the conductor of this back-and-forth dance.

Usually, Dan would've long since taken the lead and cornered Jason. Would have gotten the other on the defence. Ancients, usually his feet wouldn't have left the ground at all!

With Jason, though, he was rolling around in the dirt like when he'd just been born. He was the one on the defence, barely ever the first to attack. He had yet to figure out Jason's patterns, which couldn't be said to go both ways. He was constantly evading, ducking, parrying, retreating.

Dan might be able to match the attacks, but he wouldn't win. And he had so little experience not being the one in control of the battle - matched by his opponent or not - that it was only a matter of time until he made a mistake that'd lead to a blade at his throat.

It was exhilarating. He wouldn't have been able to keep the grin off his face if he tried. The experience alone would've been reason enough to make Danny angry at him.

Unfortunately, he still had a mission to accomplish. So he stumbled back a couple paces, just so that he would be able to get another word, another taunt in. Now, what could he use? What had he learned about Jason?

As he backed away, Jason tensed once more. Finally, his eyes strayed to where Dan knew Danny and his fiancée were at right now. And the shock was what gave Dan an idea. He hadn't considered that possibility yet, but since Danny had been the cause of Jason's blessing, maybe…

"How are you going to protect your brother like that, hm? How can you protect anyone like that? If you're powerless, wouldn't anyone be able to just… snatch your family away?"

Ah. He'd just spouted nonsense, really. Said something he knew would've made Danny snap in a similar situation, exhausted from a fight and having eyes on one of his siblings. But going by the glowing of the prince's eyes and his unearthly growl… Yeah.

So Prince Jason was a protector, huh? Just like Danny.

Well, then. Time for part two of this fight, huh?

Not being questioned. Not being belittled. Not being called weak. Not comments about his appearance.

Thoughtfully, Danny watched as prince Jason got the upper hand more and more. Dan was panting, sweating. He was barely able to evade most of the attacks, only able to because of the battle instincts ingrained in his nature as a Shadowborn. He wasn't able to get enough of a footing to settle back into his usual fighting style, either, having to resort to answering the prince's blows instead.

Danny was thoroughly and utterly impressed. He had half a mind to send for his guards and have them bare witness to this as well. He knew there wouldn't be many chances to see Dan like this, after all.

He was also incredibly grateful that the peace negotiations hadn't fallen through. The thought of having to fight against an entire family that had trained with someone so talented, the thought the rest of the Wayne's could be just as skilled…

Yes. Peace was a great thing. A real relief.

Glancing over to Timothy, Danny was able to tell he had no intentions to interject again. It made him feel warm, to know the prince trusted him enough to let this happen. That couldn't have been easy.

He had been a bit sad when Timothy hadn't offered being called Tim in turn when he'd offered his name earlier. He'd heard the other royals refer to him as such, even some trusted servants.

For a moment, he had even questioned whether the prince was only entertaining him by agreeing to be on good terms. But being trusted with the man's brother of all things? Especially when they thought he was cursed? Maybe there was hope, after all. Maybe Timothy just wanted time.

Danny could wait. If that was what the prince wanted. No need to rush anything, they would have the rest of their lives to figure all of this out. And he understood, too. Danny didn't like giving people his name, either. For him, it was only family. Timothy had only just learned about aliases and the importance of given names. Maybe he just didn't want to be hasty? He struck Danny as the kind of person who would think everything through.

Good. Ancients know their family could use a person like that. Since Jazz couldn't be with them all the time.

But back to the fight!

Prince Jason's blessing wasn't triggered by calling him a coward - and, damnit, Dan, what was he thinking to insult the prince like that - or question his promises.

Actually, no slight at his character or capabilities so far had gotten more reaction than anger from him. Certainly no magical reaction…

Stumbling back a few paces, no doubt to get a word in again, Dan almost tripped over his own feet. Ha! That would've been a sight to see, for sure.

"How are you going to protect your brother like that, hm? How can you protect anyone like that? If you're powerless, wouldn't anyone be able to just… snatch your family away?"

Dan's words made Danny's throat close up. For a moment, it was all he could do to suppress the surge of his own magic, his own power begging to prove that, no, he could and would keep his family safe. Always, forever, with everything he had, no matter what.

When he got his bearings again, Prince Jason's eyes were glowing a bright, powerful green. Next to him, Tim had stiffened up. He likely didn't like seeing his brother in pain. It must've been painful, after all. Such a powerful blessing, even if you could control it, couldn't make it through the body without sacrifice. Danny would know, he himself barely used some of his blessings for that very reason.

And the blessing was powerful. Enough so to make Dan take a step back, likely without him even noticing. Enough to make Danny tense up with the strength of it.

No wonder he hadn't learned to utilise it, it was way to strong to reign in without proper training! But… Not using it at all would be dangerous, too. So much power, left unused inside of him? That couldn't be healthy. Not for his mental state.

He was blessed with strength, apparently. His attacks became all the more vicious, all the more accurate, all the more powerful. Now, Dan really was only blocking and retreating. He couldn't do anything else anymore.

"Well," he said, voice strained, "I guess I'll use magic, too, then. Since obviously that rule doesn't count anymore."

Ah. So that was why Dan hadn't used magic so far. Made sense.

With a gesture from Dan, his sword lit up in bright red flames. It made the prince retreat for a moment, eyes the flames wearily. Interesting… So a cold-based blessing, huh? That made sense, since he'd been blessed by none other than Hiemes himself, brother to Frostbite, Vortex and Pandora. In death, the season he was closest to was winter. Most of his blessings were cold, if the history books were right. There weren't a lot of them, so no one knew for sure, but…

That meant he would be feeling too hot most of the time, huh? And be vulnerable to fire, too. A thought that settled something in Danny, knowing that fire magic was Dan's specialty.

It was not easy, watching a man that had been winning against his brother without any magic now fight him with a blessing this strong. But he knew he would have to keep watching. So that was what he did. He watched and he committed everything he could to memory.

Oh, he would tear Dan a new one for this later. Ancients damnit!

Chapter Text

Every hit, every movement in Dan's direction was accompanied by a surge of some primal fear in him. Something seemed to scream at him, tell him to get away. To run.

Since Dan, as a Shadowborn, was usually the thing that inspired such a primal fear when angered, that was something alright. A blessing with intimidation factor, huh?

He would have to tell Danny. That probably wasn't something he could tell by watching.

Flying up to evade a series of angry slashes, Dan fired another fire spell at the floor next to Jason. He would have to tell Danny later, there was no time to waste being distracted.

Now. How… did you fight someone going all out without killing them, again? Did he even know that? Had he ever done that?

The flame flew past Prince Jason, scorching the floor next to him harmlessly. It had the effect of making him jump away, though. Just in time for Dan to land on the floor again, flight spell running out. Poor guy must've been exhausted from the fight already, using magic now must be taking its toll.

Wait. Actually, he only had himself to blame for that. What 'poor guy', he absolutely deserved this! Let him pay the price in blood.

Danny watched as Dan had to rush out of the way of yet another attack, being late enough that it tore his pants.

Don't let him actually pay in blood, please. Danny hated seeing his clan hurt.

Glancing back over at Timothy, who looked a bit pale and definitely unnerved, Danny took a deep breath. Timothy had allowed them to do this. Even though he didn't know it wasn't actually a curse, even though he didn't know it might help them find a way to help Prince Jason. Even though he knew and feared the pain Prince Jason had to go through, dealing with so much magic energy, so far from home.

He could not fail the Gothamites now.

At his deep inhale, Timothy looked back over to Danny, their eyes meeting briefly.

"It's alright," Danny whispered, trying to reassure him. Then, realising those were probably pretty empty words right now, seeing as how both their brothers were dealing with Jason's extraordinary blessing, he amended: "Nothing will be in vain."

Yeah, that didn't sound much better either. Instead of groaning at himself, Danny decided to focus back on the battle at hand. That, at least, was something he was better at. And with both of their brothers so engaged in the battle, every second held many changes.

Dan had managed to get his footing back. His favourite fire magic wasn't enough in and of itself, and Dan seemed to have noticed - for the first time in over three years, Dan had resorted to other spells.

He wasn't used to casting them, much less fighting with them, and it showed. His casting was slow and his aim was a bit off. Nonetheless he had managed to get the Prince's feet stuck to the ground. Earth and shadow magic, huh? A quicksand-spell, if Danny was right. But magic was not his forte, so he couldn't say with certainty.

What he could say, however, was that Prince Jason had a healing factor and a lessened perception of pain. No way did he just dislocate his ankle to get out of the spell and then run on it! Okay, that was actually somewhat terrifying to witness.

Danny had a great plethora of blessings. He had to, as the High Chief, yet he had even more than he would've needed. Most of them were strong, too, but in the end he won his fights due to the sheer number of them. Due to always having a blessing suitable. He had the strength of being blessed and the many possibilities of magic. That was what made him so hard to fight.

Danny could tell right here and now that Prince Jason Todd Wayne… had a blessing stronger than any Danny held.

No wonder, he thought faintly as he watched the prince run this sword through Dan's wind shield effortlessly, that the blessing Hiemes had given Danny himself had grown weaker when the Prince of Gotham had been blessed. No wonder the Cursed Lands hadn't felt like the dead god in many years.

Dan, obviously desperate, raised a hand to bring forth a surge of magic from the earth and - Did he just trap the prince in a circle of fire?! What was he thinking?!

Was… Should… Should he intervene? But intervening in a friendly duel was rude! And- But was this still considered a friendly duel? What did you do in a situation like this? Should he… Should he say something?

Suddenly, something sharp and bright cut through the magic on the training field. It felt like a blade made out of pure light, like a power trying to fight the blessing. Raw and intense and so similar but also so very different from the air at home, like-

"True magic," Danny whispered, horror shooting through him as he realised it. In front of his eyes, Dan stumbled back in shock as well, obviously having noticed the same strange power clashing with the blessing in front of their eyes. The flames went out as the two brothers' eyes met.

It was Dan's red eyes meeting Danny's green ones that startled him out of it. Turning around quickly, Danny gripped Timothy by the shoulders. "Did you put a spell on him?"

Confused and obviously concerned, Timothy blinked at him, glancing between his brother and Danny. And Danny could understand. There was no way the prince knew what they had done, how dangerous it was to mix their magic with that of the Lands. And yet he did not have any time for this, so he reached up to gently grab the prince's face and make him look at Danny, to stay focused on him. "Did you put a spell on your brother?"

"I-" Timothy was searching for something in Danny's face, he knew, but he was too concerned about the other prince to figure out what it was. Instead, he only tried to urge Timothy with his eyes to answer. "Yes… Yes! We- A friend of ours used a spell to free his mind from the curse. Why…?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

They had to end this, now. Before Prince Jason suffered heavy damage. So, disregarding every common sense about duels, Danny let go of Timothy and turned back to his brother. He took a deep breath to channel some of his blessing into his voice, not a wail yet but loud enough to be heard over the battle, and cried out in the roar of a wyvern.

For a long moment, Dan didn't answer. He only kept evading angry slashes, magic going wild around him. It was strong enough that Danny had to grit his teeth trying not to loose the grip on his own blessings.

His answer, finally, was the cry of a deer: Help me.

And, well, that certainly was a first. And not the time to hesitate.

Running towards the two of them, Danny used his own blessing to freeze the prince'e feet to the ground. He followed it up by scratching his own hand, so he could use Pandora's blessing to make a trident out of his blood. He did not intend to throw it, but it sure did get the prince's attention on him.

This close, Danny could feel the oppressive aura of his blessing. It made Danny's mouth go dry and his hands shake. He had faced Ancients, dragons, wyvern, wyrms, and many different kinds of monsters. But it seemed he was helpless against the effects of this blessing.

If he himself had not been a protector and if Dan had not been even closer to the prince than he himself, Danny knew for sure he would have ran. How Dan managed to keep fighting the prince was beyond him.

Danny knew he could win. He knew that. He had faced off against stronger opponents and won. Alone or with friends. And yet still, as those angry green eyes fixated on him, as that snarl was turned on him, Danny forgot how to breathe. He could feel it in his bones, on his skin, heard the echo of the magic deafen him, tasted the ice on his tongue.

Was this the battle he would finally loose? Bested by the sheer force of another's blessing, just by the aura it gave them? Would-

Suddenly, as suddenly as the blessing had acted up, everything was quiet again. His senses, all overstimulated by the power of that blessing, felt raw and cried out at the sudden emptiness as well. And when then ringing in his ears stoped, when his skin didn't feel like it was burning off any longer, he let go of his blood weapon and let it dissolve into mist. With a bit of Frostbite's blessing, he allowed himself to heal.

In front of Danny, Dan was sunken to his knees, breath stuttering from the same backlash. Next to him, prince Jason was laying where he'd fallen to the floor, breathing softly in the magic induced sleep of Dan's spell.

"I can see," Dan panted quietly, only for Danny's ears to hear, "why they'd think that was a curse."

Humming his agreement, Danny walked over to the prince. Danny needed to replenish the magic he'd exhausted or it might make him sick, he knew, and apparently the healing factor was only covering self-inflicted wounds. So he would have to take care of the scrapes and bruises he'd sustained during battle, too. It was never nice to wake up with the magical equivalent of a hang-over, after all, much less while you were injured.

Grateful that Elle had send them alongside the feathers, Danny took a vile out of his pouches and opened it up. Careful not to jostle the prince, he pinched his nose closed and pressed the vial to his lips, making the unconscious man swallow the clear liquid inside. The effect was immediate: his skin looked a lot less pale and his wounds vanished.

"Is he…?" The nervous voice from across the room startled Danny. Shamefully, he had completely forgotten that his fiancee was still here…

Clearing his throat, Danny tried for a smile as he stood, prince Jason in his arms. "Dan put him under a sleeping spell, and I gave him phoenix tears for his recovery. He will probably be exhausted when he wakes, but he will not be hurt."

Prince Timothy's shoulders slumped in obvious relief almost immediately. It was touching how worried he was over his brother. Understandable, too, given that he was currently passed out after using such a dangerous blessing. And even if they didn't know the reason, they must've noticed by now that using that blessing too much ended up hurting the poor guy.

Into the stone tied to his wrist as a bracelet, he growled once. Almost right away, the doors opened to reveal the same guard that had delivered Dan's message earlier. He bowed his head with a fist on his heart, waiting for his orders. "Prince Jason needs to rest until the spell wears off. Carry him to his room for me?"

Bowing a bit deeper, the guard came over to take the unconscious prince from the High Chief. "Of course, High Chief."

He turned to help Dan up, but his brother completely ignored the hand he stretched out. Typical. His ego must've bruised quite a bit to ask for help in the middle of a fight. And Danny would be sure to bruise it even further when they were alone.

Determined to get this all over with, he walked up to Prince Timothy, Dan and the guard following behind him. "I'm sorry, but I think we need to cut our time together short. I need to deal with my idiot of a brother and think about a couple of things… We'll talk about it at dinner with everyone, if that's okay with you?"

"Ah! Of…course." Prince Timothy looked like he really wanted to talk about it now, but Danny was glad he didn't insist on it. This had been a eventful fight, and he really did have to sort through his thoughts before talking about everything he'd just learned.

Nodding to the prince in front of him in thanks, Danny smiled. "You should go with your brother. He'll probably want someone with him when he wakes. Is it alright if my guard stays, too? He'll come get me if there's need."

Taking an unsteady breath, probably still shaken from the fight himself, Prince Timothy nodded. "Whatever you think best."

Hm… He didn't look like he wanted to agree. Probably because he wanted to be alone with his brother, right? But that wouldn't be safe! If something happened, Danny would have to know so he could help. And since he agreed in the first place, Prince Timothy must've known it, too. So, was there anything he could do about it…?

Turning to the guard, Danny thought about it for a second longer. But, well, it should be fine, right? "Stay outside the room. If anything happens, come get me. We'll be in my rooms. And… this goes without saying, but be careful." They were talking about his future brother-in-law, after all!

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. It felt like some god somewhere had decided put all of his bones, muscles and organs into a mortar, grind them into a fine paste and put them back.

Groaning softly, he tried to pry his eyes open but found they were still too heavy to do so. Just what…?

"Jason?!"

Tim's voice lifted the rest of the fog on his mind, reminding him of the multitude of terrible news they'd gotten in the last three days. The Infinite Lands, the treaty, the fucking engagement…

The duel.

Suddenly wide awake, Jason sprung up to a sitting position. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust, taking in the room he was in which was… his own bedroom? He hadn't expected that, but it was. The curtains were drawn and only two candles were lit, bathing the nightstand next to Tim in a warm glow.

"Hey, easy. You just got beat up pretty bad, first with a sword and then with magic," Tim said softly, a smile on his lips but it fell flat. There was concern and honest fear shining in his eyes, and with the way he was whispering and glancing towards the door…

"We're being watched?" That he had expected. And he didn't really need to ask, not in this kind of situation. Still, he hoped Tim would deny it. Would say that he didn't just majorly fuck everything up than it had already been.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a story that could just be rewritten however you liked it. Unfortunately, if this was a story it most certainly wasn't a happy one. That was as sure as the High Chief's evil intentions.

And that's why when Tim opened his mouth he didn't deny but confirm it: "The guard Lord Dantrey send to us? He's outside. Phantom ordered him to report back if… 'something happens'."

"Ha! So he isn't even hiding it anymore, huh?" Incredulously, Jason rubbed his hands across his face. "Great. Fun-fucking-tastic! So I made him real angry, I take it?"

"Well, he didn't look happy," Tim scoffed, then sighed deeply. He just looked so… tired. So done. "He seemed angry about the spell we used. No clue how he was even able to tell, but something about that made him mad. He wasn't happy before he knew either, but after…" He shuddered.

"The spell? What spell?" Had something happened after the curse got triggered? But none of them could use magic. Or… wait. No way! "You mean the spell that keeps me sane?"

Miserably, Tim nodded. "That's the one. I don't even know why! Maybe we… disrespected their religion by using magic against something one of their gods decided? I can't come up with a better explanation. Either way, you're definitely on his radar now."

Oh. Great. Things just got better and better, huh? Well, maybe if he was lucky they'd decide that Jason deserved to suffer more than Timberly over here and switch their places. Then, at least, Jason wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that not only had he failed to safe him from his fate - or, shit, even just to help him - but he'd made everything even worse for his brother.

Just like Steph had said, too. He really should have listened to her. Damnit!

Slumping back down, he tried to keep his tears from coming. He really should've just waited. Should've just kept his mouth shut. Should've just given up. But could he really have done that? In this kind of situation? "Anything else I should know?"

Tim hummed. And… That was not a good sound. That was a bad sound. The kind he made when shit had really gone down the drain. Fuck!

"Phantom acknowledged that Lord Dantrey was trying to activate the curse. And he told me to let him." Ah. So it'd been a set-up. He'd been an even bigger idiot than he'd realised, then. Fucking- "After he… managed to do that, he started using magic. Seems he's a lot more on the defence when he uses magic, but…"

That didn't sound good. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Jason met Tim's eyes. "But?"

"Jason," Tim sounded absolutely breathless, face pale and hands trembling, "He used fire magic, and something that turned the ground weid, and wind magic, and earth magic again, and fire magic, and- Jason, he didn't need to use incarnations or artefacts, and he switched between elements like it's nothing!"

He could feel his own face pale at that. "What d'ya mean he just switched 'em?! Ya can't just do that!"

Closing his eyes, Tim nodded. "I know, Jason. I know. I've fought with Z, too. I don't know a lot about magic, but I know that when you change the basic type of magic you use you at least need a moment to concentrate. But he didn't! He just… It was a fire spell in one second and a wind spell the next! No hesitation, no pause, he didn't even falter in his steps! Jason, I… I have no idea how we're supposed to beat that…"

Unfortunately, neither did Jason. Someone being able to use magic without incarnation was rare enough, but just changing it up like that? Unheard of. It should be impossible for a human. But if Tim had seen it…

"So," he finally acknowledged bitterly, "We're fucked fucked, then." And, well, he didn't really want to know. But he'd gotten them into this situation, and if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of getting them out of it he had to. So he asked: "Any idea what they're planing now?"

Tim sighed. "They… I don't think Phantom wants you dead. If what he said is right, he used phoenix tears on you. As in, multiple tears of a phoenix. Which, apparently, he just had on hand. You know. Conveniently."

… What?

This just got more and more ridiculous. Phoenix tears? A phoenix only cried when they wanted to. Not only that, barely anyone ever managed to even get close to them. Even a single tear drop would be worth a fortune. And they were strong, too. The holy grail of healing magic.

Jason had never seen them in person before, nor had he ever known anyone who had witnessed their effects. But he had heard the stories. They said using even one tear was enough to heal a blinded eye. You could reattach severed limbs, if the wound was fresh enough, with just four of them. They could replenish magic and blood, enough to bring you back from the brink of death.

And they were supposed to believe that Phantom had just had them? Just like that?

Worse yet, he had used them on Jason. Who hadn't been in mortal peril, he was pretty sure. And yet they'd used them on him.

Gods, what would they want in return?

"Itiner, please, show us a way out…"

"The Goddess of the Path won't help us right now. If we want to find a way out, we have to search ourselves," Tim, ever the disbeliever, sighed. At least he wasn't blatantly disregarding Jason's faith as he'd done in the beginning. Still, a little, mean part of Jason wondered whether this entire situation was brought on by Tim and Bruce's refusal to show respect to the gods.

Then again, he was the cursed one. By a god he hadn't even known about, apparently. So maybe he didn't have much room to talk.

The silence felt heavy after that. Heavy like a boulder on Jason's shoulder, and tight like a noose around his neck. He wanted to say something, break the silence. But what even did you say to your brother after you'd just selfishly… Was was there to say?

"He…" Tim ended up breaking the silence, voice even but underlying with dread, "He said he wanted to talk about it at dinner. With everyone. And that… nothing would be in vain."

"Well, that's ominous," Jason sighed, getting back up. His muscles were still sore, but he felt better now. Physically, at least. Mentally, he felt much, much worse. But since that was his own fault, he decided not to be a pussy about it and stood. "But we should prepare for that, I guess. Make a strategy to do some damage control."

Tim nodded, leaning back to look a the ceiling. For a while they remained like that, Jason pacing up and down and Tim starring at the ceiling. He tried to think about something to do here, he really did. But where should he even start? Where could he start?

Once again, it was Timmy who broke the silence between them. "Jason?" he asked, voice tight and so, so tired, "Why? Just… why?"

Ah. He'd… hoped he wouldn't have to answer that. Though he hadn't really counted on it, not in this family.

With a deep sigh, Jason sat down on the floor, right where he'd frozen at Tim's words. "I… I couldn't just do nothing. And I knew I probably wouldn't win anyways, but I just… They have this thing about honour, right? And I thought, maybe, if I made a bet… I just… I had to try. I had to."

For a long moment, Tim didn't move and didn't say anything. Jason wasn't even sure he was breathing. Then, after a long while, he softly asked: "Like I had to get engaged?"

He hated that all he could do about the anger flaring up when Tim brought that horrible, terrible fate up again was to grit his teeth. But he'd already made it worse trying to make it go away. So he didn't do much else, just nodded. "Yeah. Like that."

Tim hummed, tears gathering in his eyes. "And," he asked, voice tight and watery, "what was the bet?"

"Winner gets a favour."

"I see…"

They should've kept trying to make a plan for the dinner that was about to follow. They really should. But all they did after that was sit on the bed, Timmy's head pressed against Jason as the older brother rocked them back and forth, trying desperately to somehow comfort the younger prince. Trying to somehow make it seem at least a bit less bad. Even if it really wasn't.

"I cannot believe you!"

Dan at least had the decency to look chastised where he was sitting on the floor.

"Just what were you thinking?! Actually, were you thinking, Dan? You could've started a diplomatic incident with that! Ancients, you just might have! A friendly duel is one thing. But triggering what they think is a curse? And doing it by insulting him?"

Not even able to look at Danny, Dan cleared his throat. He shifted nervously. "But-"

"No but! You're going to apologise for being mean during the fight, and for using magic when you'd agreed not to, and for trapping him in a wall of flames. None of which you should've done!" Groaning, Danny let himself fall onto his bed. "Ancients, Dan! Out of all the people I would've though would disregard the sacredness of a duel…"

There was a beat of silence. Then, Dan cleared his throat. "But," he started off again, looking only a little cowed by the glare Danny send his way, "you needed to see. We both needed to know. How else are we going to help him?"

"Yeah, Dan. I know that. He doesn't. And how, exactly, do you want to explain that when we're not going to tell them it's not a curse, huh?"

Dan mumbled something to himself that Danny couldn't hear. When he raised an impatient eyebrow, Dan sighed and repeated louder: "I didn't think that far ahead…"

"Clearly." Sighing, Danny closed his eyes for a moment. "I'll think of something. But! You're going to do what it takes for him to forgive you. Do you understand?"

"Yes…"

Nodding both to himself and to Dan, Danny sat back up. "Right. Now, about that blessing…"

"You noticed it too, huh?" Dan stood, sitting next to Danny. His red eyes shone with both admiration and determination. "We really can't leave him like this. Especially not when he's…"

He hated to admit it, but Danny nodded. "I'm aware. That true magic is a problem, though."

Dan hummed thoughtfully, agreeing with Danny immediately. "I've never met someone stupid enough to try mixing Realms Magic with True Magic before."

Startled by how seriously disgusted and insulted Dan looked, Danny startled out a laugh. "Come now, brother. They don't know a lot about Realms Magic. How are they to know?" Dan looked like someone had just hit him on the head with a shoe and called him a potato, so Danny really couldn't be faulted for laughing out loud at him. "Just one more thing to explain, I guess."

"Yeah…" Visibly still surprised by that revelation, Dan shook himself. "Anyways, we have to convince them to take that spell away! It'll get real dangerous for his Highness real fast."

Now, that caught Danny's attention. "His Highness?" he repeated, smirk growing on his lips, "Not 'little princy'?"

Flushing, Dan crossed his arms and turned away from Danny. "I- Shut up! He's a strong warrior. Capable. Adapting. He deserves respect, is all."

Humming, Danny leaned over Dan to try and catch his eye again. It didn't work. "You admire him!"

"Well. Like I said, he's a strong warrior." Dan turned his head away even further.

Snickering, Danny kept trying to make Dan meet his eyes. Something the other resolutely avoided.

It was nice, though. To think that Dan had not only found himself impressed by the prince but also looked up to him. There weren't many people, after all, that he could honestly feel respect for. Not really. Fear, sure, or he could like them. But respect? No way. After all, he was a being born through Realms Magic. There wasn't much that could impress him. And try as he might, being impressed seldom lead to respect.

He missed out on a lot of things because of that. Many things that came naturally to many others around him were hard won through practice and patient teachers for him. Empathy, for example. The ability to relax and joke around. Compromising. Changing plans. And honest love, too.

Danny knew, he knew that Dan loved him, Elle and Jazz. He did now. But it was a battle against himself to let himself feel even adoration for them. Since he was born from so many negative feelings, feeling something so positive for another went against everything he knew and understood. Not subconsciously trampling these feelings had been a challenge for him, back then. One that he'd only taken because Danny had dared him to, because he'd called him a weak coward for not trying. And once he'd managed to let those feelings bloom? They'd slowly but steadily developed into something deeper.

It had been a heartfelt conversation, when Dan had first told him that he was finally able to love his family. Not like them. Not think they're cute. Honestly love them.

The first time feeling any positive feeling was always hard for him. After that it was like those feelings had always been a part of him, always ready to come up and develop.

Respect was different, though. Even the Ancients were only tolerated, and only because he both knew that he couldn't fight them and because he loved Danny and Elle and they placed importance on respecting them. So he wasn't really rude, he tried to act accordingly. But Dan didn't respect them, not in his heart. He didn't respect their comrades either. He felt responsible for them, sure, and he absolutely trusted them - but he did not respect them.

They'd stayed up many a night next to a campfire, watching the flames and talking about this. It frustrated Dan. Made him feel inferior. Danny didn't know how many times he had to assure his brother it did not make him a monster. That, despite not being able to feel some things, he had a good heart and was able to care for people around him. In his own way.

So even as Danny teased Dan, giggled and purposely annoyed him, he couldn't fight down the honest smile that took over his lips. This was huge, after all! It might the the first person aside from family - second, if you didn't count CW as their unofficial gramps, like Danny did - that he felt respect for.

Well, Danny thought to himself as he enjoyed embarrassing his brother, that just means we have to help him more than ever, now.

Iver sighed, idly wondering whether the two princes thought he couldn't hear them talking through the door. The did seem to talk in hushed voiced, but he could still hear they were up. If they didn't want him to hear, they could just ask him to leave. As a matter of fact, he would love to do just that. He didn't particularly enjoy standing around with nothing to do other than play messenger boy.

Oh, well. It was the future High Lord that he was doing this for. So that was something, at least. He'd much rather stand around here in the hallway than to go back to 'guarding' the head of the army.

It was stupid, really. They all knew the mage was able to sweep the floor with all of the guards Lord Fright had send here, same as the High Chief himself. They didn't need him and the others. It was just formality that they were here, really. He'd much rather be home and train. He wanted to get stronger, already! He wanted to become a warrior that could help High Chief Phantom!

But speaking of High Chief Phantom… Maybe it was a good thing they were here, after all. At least that way he wouldn't be alone with the Shadowborn. Because his High Chief could claim they were brothers all he wanted, Iver didn't buy it. High Chief Phantom had a heart way too big for himself, after all, what with not only allowing that treacherous bastard to live and even remain a chief, but even allowing a Shadowborn into his clan. And the Shadowbron might play along for now, but it was only a matter of time until High Chief Phantom would suffer the heartbreak when that guy revealed his nature.

Like, give the guy a chance, fine. Teach him how to live alongside other people, alright. But trusting him to that extent? Looking at him with so much love?

Sometimes Iver felt bad about those feelings. Dantrey was a good commander, after all. He did take care of his people, now. He did follow orders and he did support High Chief Phantom whenever needed. It was just… Iver had seen it, okay? He'd seen the evil that man could and would do, had to watch it as a child during the war. He'd seen the sadistic glimmer in his eyes when he'd-

Shadowborn were made to betray and hurt! That was their nature. It concerned him that High Chief Phantom didn't seem to acknowledge that. That he seemed so determined to forget how close Dantrey had come to killing him, how he'd joined the likes of Pariah just for that. And why? Just so that they could play house?

It was only a matter of time until something happened and they'd be back at square one! That was just how things went with the Shadowborn. There was a reason why a Shadowborn couldn't receive the blessings of the Ancients. Everyone knew that, at least they used to. Not many still dared say it out loud, not with how obsessively protective Dantrey had managed to make High Chief Phantom feel towards him.

Until that time came Iver would have to sit still and follow the man's orders, he guessed. He didn't have to like it, but he did have to treat him as High Chief Phantom's clan. For now, keeping a close eye on the situation so he could protect the High Chief from himself and that so-called brother of his when the time came was all he could do. All he would do. He respected the High Chief too much to go against his decisions directly, after all.

And speaking of keeping a close eye… Why did it sound like the future High Lord was crying? Should… Should he knock? Tell the High Chief? But would that be an invasion of his future High Lord's privacy? Uhm…

Well, technically that didn't mean they needed anything. Right? And his brother was with him. That… seemed like a clan matter in there.

Yeah, Iver probably shouldn't intervene…

Ancients, guarding doors was so awkward. But not to worry! He could keep a secret, contrary to popular believe. If he had to. For, just as an example, the privacy and dignity of his future High Lord and his brother. Who, by the sounds of it, were trying not to let anyone hear that crying was involved in their conversation.

Huh. Wonder why…?

Nope, not his place to wonder. He'd just… pretend he didn't hear. Since, obviously, that was what the two Gothamite royals were aiming for anyways.

Chapter Text

When time for dinner came, Bruce was already exhausted. He'd spend the entire day going over the contracts, trying to find the loopholes he knew must be there. He might have found some, but only small ones. He didn't understand. Usually he was good at this, but he just couldn't seem to figure out what Phantom wanted.

Except for taking his precious son as a hostage in marriage, of course.

Which was also another matter he had failed to gain any headway in getting out of. Constantine had been contacted via urgent letter, but he had yet to receive an answer. The engagement contract itself was iron clad, too. He just… he didn't know what to do. He knew he had to do something but what? What could he do?

And to make matters worse, every time he closed his eyes now he would see flashes of memories. Memories of waking up to screams, running outside to save who he could. Of walking through burning cities whose fire never went out, no matter what they did. Of standing in a battlefield, surrounded by corpses. Of hiding his children, hoping, praying to the gods that they would stay put and that they would not be found. Of comforting first Dick and than Jason, too, in the middle of the night.

Smoke that rose into the sky all around him. The flash of toxic green eyes. Magic they couldn't hope to understand. Cities turned ruins over night. Children crying for their dead parents. Parents crying over dead children.

Never again. That was what he and the other royals of the League had sworn themselves when Pariah had been dethroned and his armies had finally vanished back to from whence they came. Desperately they'd clung to that sentiment when the fire was extinguished, through no doing of their own but purely because the residents of the Infinite Lands willed it. Because they came back and extinguished the flames with the same magic they'd used to create them, almost like an afterthought. Because for some reason the Infinite Lands as a collective had decided they didn't need those godawful eternal flames anymore and worked together to get rid of them.

Had it really been nineteen years since the Great Siege had started? It pained him to know that not all of his children had ever known Gotham before that slaughter had ruined it even further. A whole generation that didn't know what 'before' had even looked like. A whole generation that grew up with that decimation and brutality and pain all around them.

Gotham did have its problems even before the Great Siege, sure, but nothing like the deep fractures the war had left in its wake. He'd tried to fix them since the war had ended, they all had. But it wasn't the same either. It wouldn't ever be again.

Nothing would ever be the same again. Everybody knew.

It had been five years of cautious peace since then, but after fourteen years of brutal slaughter all around him it seemed more like an illusion. An illusion that now threatened to bend and break with every sharp smile the new High Chief threw their way.

Could they have moved past it? If Phantom had let them? Metropolis seemed to be doing a good job of it, as did most of the kingdoms of the League. Bruce's paranoia and his memories might have held them back. When his children would've been the ones ruling, would Gotham have finally moved on? It was an awful feeling to look at those papers and know they'd never find out now.

He'd always feared he'd loose his children to the Infinite Lands one day. When Jason had been proclaimed dead, he'd thought his worst fear had come true. And when he'd come back, no matter how the curse had changed him, it had felt like the greatest gift the goddess Eose could've ever bestowed on them. Yet now they were about to loose Tim - and not even to death.

He was trying to put on a brave face for his children. He was trying to make them and himself believe that there was a way out. And there was, there must be! But… What if Bruce wasn't smart enough, wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough? What if he would spend the rest of his days missing his son, watching as it tore his family up inside? What if he would forever have to imagine what Tim might be going through there? What if they made him wish he would've been claimed by death and not by marriage? Because Bruce knew his child, knew all his children so dearly, and he knew Tim would endure anything, no matter how cruel, if it would keep his family safe.

All Bruce wanted to do anymore was to beg Phantom to keep his family out of this. To take him instead. To spare his children at least, even if nobody else in this world.

Ha! This was only the fifth day since the arrival of the letter. Not even a week had passed. And yet look at him! Desperate and broken already. Wasn't he supposed to be one of the few kings that were unbreakable? That would stand up and keep fighting no matter what? But after the last war and a taste of finally being freed of it, only to have this threat hang above them all like a sword held up only by a fringed cord…

It might be pathetic, but he could feel himself breaking a bit more with every bleak moment that he didn't find the answers he so desperately needed.

And now he would have to go to dinner and sit at the same table as that man, pretending he didn't want to punch him in the face.

Bruce had never been so happy before that his image proceeded him - at least he wouldn't be expected to smile. He wasn't sure whether he would have been able to do that. (He would've. If it would help his son, he absolutely would've. Even if it would've felt like he was selling his morals to demons)

Alas, time didn't wait for anyone and so it did became time for dinner. Too soon.

Walking towards the dining room felt like walking towards the gallows. It felt like trying to shield his family from a storm just by standing in front of them.

When he arrived half of his children were already there. Steph and Barbs weren't officially his, so they weren't present. Cass, too, since she wasn't in Gotham. They, at least, would be safe. For tonight, that was. But his official children, on the other hand? They were all expected to attend.

Dick was uncomfortably shifting on his chair, probably wishing he could contort himself on it like he usually would. Gods knew it would've eased his oldest son's anxiety. But this just wasn't the occasion for it, and they both knew they couldn't risk seeming rude or uncouth.

Duke sat next to him, drawn into himself and nervously playing with the cuffs on his arm. He didn't usually wear formal clothing, not if he could avoid it. He couldn't, tonight.

Damian was here, too. Siting rigid as always next to Bruce's own place at the head of the table, glaring on Alfred's good tablecloth. He looked unharmed, though, so at least he hadn't put that plan of his into motion. Bruce had asked the staff to keep an eye on his youngest and to keep him away from their… "guests". But with Damian you could never know whether or not that would be enough.

Missing were Jason, Tim and the royals of the Infinite Lands themselves. They would come, though. Jason wouldn't bail out of this particular dinner and risk the ire that could reflect on Tim. Unless, of course, he wanted to somehow draw their ire away from Tim and onto himself. But… surely not. No, he wouldn't.

"Do you know where Jason is?" he asked, just to make sure. He did try to hide his concern, but he didn't think he succeeded.

"No…" Dick frowned, shaking his head softly. "I haven't seen him since midday. Tim neither, actually…"

"Timothy was…" Damian wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste, "talking with Phantom. In the gardens. I did go to intervene, but I was hindered and when I arrived they'd left already. I did not find them after."

Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. Should Bruce search them? But what could he say? It wasn't like he could just forbid Phantom from talking to Tim. Maybe he could make up some rule about not seeing each other until they were married? Then again, when Phantom would inevitably find out about the lie…

"We should… We should go look for them, right?" Dick asked nervously, desperately looking at Bruce. Like he had all the answers. And, oh, how he wished he did.

But before he could say something, before he could admit to his powerlessness, an unfamiliar voice filtered into the room. "And you're sure you're alright, your highness?"

"Yes," Jason's voice answered, brisk and harsh, "I'm good."

The unfamiliar voice hummed, obviously not convinced. "If you say so… You should probably eat something, after all that."

It wasn't Tim's voice that answered this time, filled with obviously fake cheer: "Thank you for your consideration, Sir Rain."

Sir Rain? That wasn't someone working for the Waynes. He might not know all of them by voice but he did make a point of knowing the names and faces of his staff, in case someone wanted to infiltrate them. He knew Tim did, too. So that must mean this man was one of Phantom's, then, right? That wasn't good either…

Bruce saw his own nervousness mirrored in the stiff shoulders of his sons.

"Of course, m'lord! And, please, it's just Rain. Honestly," the voice said, just as a young man with copper hair and glowing green eyes appeared in the doorway, just so that Bruce could see him. He was dressed in the scaled armor of Phantom's knights, and his face was marked by blood red lines, curling from his hairline onto his cheeks. "Lord Fright would have my head if he knew I'd let you call me sir."

The guard, apparently called Rain, had said it jokingly. However there had been a hint of real fear in that statement that Bruce couldn't help but focus on. That didn't bare well for Tim, if just such a simple breach of decorum was enough to bring fear into one of the guards of the Infinite Lands himself.

Judging by the way Tim's smile twitched as he appeared behind the guard, he had the same thought. "Right… Well, thank you for your kind consideration, Rain."

Smiling, the guards touched his fist to his heart and nodded. "Anytime, m'lord! Highness." He nodded to Jason, then turned on his heel and moved out of the way. Form the way the steps didn't continue, Bruce would hazard a guess that he had taken post next to the doors.

Dropping the smile, Tim hurried inside, quickly followed by Jason. The two of them sat down - and Jason pointedly didn't look at anyone. That look, that look right there on Jason's face, that was a look that Bruce knew too well. And with the information he had of the situation, that look was almost enough to give Bruce a heart attack.

"Jason, dear? What did you do?" he asked carefully, hoping he was wrong. But Jason flinched, sighed and finally met Bruce's eyes. And, yes, that was definitely Jason's 'I messed up'-face. Damnit.

"Uhm… So, don't be mad?"

Ah. Alright, then. Bruce had feared that Phantom might decide to end his farce. And, well, if a war would break out anyways, he would at least not need to send Tim away. Small mercies. (This was even worse.)

"Jay," he whispered, horror sinking into his bones as his mind ran wild with all that could have happened in the span of a whole day, "Lad, what happened?"

Jason opened his mouth, winced, closed it again. Tim, sitting next to him, gently put squeezed Jason's shoulder in a comfroting gesture. Now that Bruce looked closer at him, he had been crying. He'd used cosmetics to hide it, and Duchess Drake had taught her son well how to do so, but Bruce knew his son and he knew what to look for.

Jason looked up again when Tim let go of him again, determination shining in his eyes. The determination to take responsibility for whatever it was he had done. To fight rather than to succumb to the consequences of his actions.

Before he could say something, however, Phantom's voice cut through the tense air. "Oh… Are we late?"

As one, the family turned to look at him, conversation immediately abandoned. It was Bruce who stood, drawing the eery eyes of the High Chief onto himself. His brother, Bruce noted as his horror grew even stronger, didn't look at him. He was looking at Jason. Intently. With something in his eyes that Bruce couldn't quite make out from here.

Gods, have mercy.

"Not at all. Please." He gestured to the empty seats. Phantom smiled at him, leading his brother to the indicated chairs. Dantrey, Bruce noticed, did not take his eyes off of Jason for long. "I hope you had a pleasant first day in Gotham?"

"We did," Phantom nodded as he sat down. "Prince Timothy showed me the gardens. Oh, and I'm not sure you've heard yet! These two-" he lazily gestured between Dantrey and Jason, the latter of whom winced again "-had a duel this afternoon. Which reminds me. Did you rest well?"

Bruce fell into his chair rather than sitting down. He had to force himself to hear past the ringing in his ear, but he needed to. He needed to know what it was that he had to safe his son from. Needed to find the way out that just had to be there, please.

When Phantom's eyes turned to Jason, he let out a scoff. "I did. Thanks."

If the High Chief was bothered by the tone he didn't show it. Only hummed in acknowledgement. "That's good. And how are you feeling? Any lingering pains?"

Jason's smile looked like he wanted to punch the guy, his laugh sounded somewhere between disbelieving and hysterical. "I don't know how, after you gave me phoenix tears. Your majesty."

Once again, the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Because, what? Phoenix tears? How baldy had Jason been injured during the fight? And what would Phantom take in return for saving his son?

Phantom, on the other hand, just shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what I had on hand. But I wanted to check regardless - there's some things even they can't heal, after all."

An obvious threat. Bruce had to dig his nails into his palm beneath the table to keep quiet. He noticed Dick doing the same.

Well, he thought bitterly as he raised his glass to his lips so he could hide his frown behind it, at least he didn't demand anything with that threat. For now, at least, it was just a general threat to them. Probably meant to remind them who held the power here. As though they could ever forget that.

"I don't know how, after you gave me phoenix tears," the prince answered drily once he was done with his humourless laugh. After a moment, like an afterthought, he all but spat: "Your majesty."

Yikes. Okay, so the prince was definitely still angry at them. Hopefully he'd let Dan make it up to him again. Though using the phoenix tears didn't seem to have made him very happy either. Danny guessed because of their shortage here. They were kinda rare, even in the Lands. And their magic was strong. Still, he couldn't possibly have used a random potion. That would've been dangerous! Surely he must know that?

Not seeing the need to apologise for using them but also not wanting to leave the prince's dissatisfaction unaddressed, he gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's what I had on hand." An excuse, and one easily discredited. So he didn't pause for the prince to call him out. Instead, he addressed the other half of what the prince had said: "But I wanted to check regardless - there's some things even they can't heal, after all."

Like damage caused by uncontrolled magic, he didn't add. There was no need for that. Phoenix tears were so strong, after all, that everyone knew what they couldn't heal rather than what they could. And those things could all be summed up as 'consequences of using magic when you don't know what you're doing'. Which was why he didn't say it out loud. The insinuation would've been plain rude.

When no one said anything else about that, Danny nodded. Okay, best to move on, it appeared. So he smiled again, turning to Prince Jason. "Right. About what happened during the duel…" Prince Jason took a deep breath and nodded, full attention on Danny now. And, yes, okay, that was definitely the expression of someone who wasn't happy with what had happened. Best get the apology over with and hope he'd forgive Dan, then. "My brother has something to say about that. Dan?"

Next to him, Dan sighed. He did hate having to say sorry, preferred it to be an understood thing and show it in his actions. But he did make his bed himself, so Danny sure wouldn't be the one to lie in it. Not this time. He could do the apologising himself.

Obviously feeling awkward, Dan met Prince Jason's eyes. "…I'm sorry I insulted you."

"And…" Danny added when he didn't continue.

"And I'm sorry I triggered your curse on purpose."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry I used magic when we agreed not to."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry I trapped you in a wall of flames. Apparently I shouldn't've."

Silence. Dan seriously stoped talking. He even looked at Danny, challenging him to say something. Seriously? Pinching his nose, Danny sighed. This was like talking to a little child. Why did this feel like talking with a little child?

"Aren't you forgetting something, Dan?" he pointedly asked, motioning back to Prince Jason.

Dan had the nerve to lean back in his chair, tilting his head to the side. "No…?"

"Dantrey. Say it."

Groaning, he tilted his head back. "Do I have to?"

"You do. Now, go ahead," Danny hissed, feeling his patience run out

"But, like… Can't it just be an understood thing? It just seems kinda silly doing this now. You know, hours later."

Growling, Danny glared at his brother. "I don't care whether you want to or not. Do it."

Wincing, Dan raised his hands as if surrendering. "Okay, okay…" He turned back to Prince Jason. "I formally except my defeat." He turned back to Danny. "There. Happy?"

"Overjoyed," he deadpanned as he turned away from him with a hum, still annoyed. Trying to chase the feeling away, Danny took a sip from his water. Huh. That tasted funny. Kind of sweet? What… Ah. Right. No magic in the water.

Anyways, back to the more important matters at hand. Smiling apologetically, Danny put the cup back on the table, careful not to damage the fragile-looking glas. "I know he sounds like he doesn't want to say it," he noted, shooting a glare to Dan for good measure, "And truth be told, he doesn't. But he is sincerely sorry about that. He is just very prideful, and therefore hates admitting things like this. That's just how my brother is, I'm afraid."

"That's… fine?" Prince Jason asked, obviously confused. Huh. Had he not expected Dan to own up to it? Weird. Well, the kingdoms of the League did place a whole less value on honour and a warrior's spirit, if he remembered right.

Relieved either way, Danny's smile brightened. "Great! He will make it up to you, of course." Next to him, Dan nodded. "So in addition to what you won, he will owe you a second favour. To make up for how he behaved." Dan send Danny a shocked look that he ignored. "Do you think that'd be fair?"

It was the oldest brother, Prince Richard, who chimed in before Prince Jason could answer to the offer. "Uhm, excuse me, your majesty?"

A little confused why the older prince had interrupted and concerned it might mean they wouldn't forgive Dan so easily, Danny turned to him. "Yes?"

"Are you saying that… Jason won?"

What? Oh. Oh, they weren't there. Danny let out a little laugh at the shocked expression the prince had. "Surprising, right? Not many would've been able to. Dan is a very capable duelist. So is your brother, however. Though I'm afraid it wasn't his strength that bested Dan this time."

Obviously confused, Prince Richard gave Danny a somewhat shaky smile. "What do you mean?"

Next to him, Dan groaned, slumping in his chair. "I broke the rules of the duel, so I lost," he explained, very close to whining.

Pointing at his brother, Danny nodded. "That. Though I'm sure Prince Jason would've been capable of winning either way…" Danny looked back to Jason, who still looked surprised. Had he not expected that he was the winner? Then the rules of a duel must've been different here, huh? Regardless: "You're a very capable fighter, your highness. It was very impressive."

Something hushed across the prince's face, though Danny couldn't quite say what it was. Tight lipped, the prince nodded. "Thank you."

Ah. Back to clipped words and annoyed facial expressions. Now that Danny thought about it, he hadn't seen the prince act differently so far. Maybe he just had one of those faces? Elle had mentioned once that some people were apparently just like that. What had she called it? Resting-bitch-face. He hadn't really known how to imagine it, but perhaps this was what she'd meant? Maybe Prince Jason only looked annoyed, even when he wasn't?

When the moment stretched a little, Prince Timothy clapped his hands. "Oh! Is it because Lord Dantrey used magic?"

Danny hummed, raising his hand in a so-so motion. "That would have been enough for him to be considered the looser, yes. They had agreed on a magic-less duel, after all. But in this particular case it's more because he had me intervene. Remember?" Looking at the prince's face, Danny could tell that he did, in fact, not remember. He sighed. "Dan asked for my help, and I wasn't part of that duel. So he lost. That's the same as giving up. Or is that… not the case here?"

"No it… It would be, I suppose? Just… I don't recall him asking for your help."

What? But he'd- Oh. "Ah. Yes, well, he did in ghost-speak. So you probably didn't understand him."

"Ghost-speak?" King Bruce asked carefully. "What would that be?"

He was getting more and more confused as the conversation went on. Danny knew that he'd used ghost-speak in front of them. How did they not know? But since he didn't want to not answer and explaining was a bit difficult, Danny simply decided to demonstrate. So he chirped twice. Dantrey looked around himself, then answered with a single click.

Not that Danny had expected there to be any enemies in hiding, but he still appreciated that Dan had checked. Smiling at his brother, he nodded. Then, he turned back to the king and pointed to Dan and himself. "Ghost-speak." Which reminded him… He turned to prince Timothy. "You should to learn it, too… I could start teaching you on the way home, if you want?"

For some reason, all of them appeared shocked at the news. Prince Timothy especially. "I get to learn it?"

"Yes?" Had that not been obvious? "It would be a problem if I gave a command and you couldn't understand it, right? There's not always time for me to translate it into words in the heat of the moment. That's what ghost-speak is for, after all - it's easier and faster." Danny shrugged. "I won't force you to learn it if you don't want to. Not knowing might be dangerous, is all." Then again, he didn't expect the prince to get into many dangerous situations anyways. It wasn't like he'd join the guard or become a warrior.

"Ah, no. I'd be honoured to," Prince Timothy waved his hands as though to wave away the thought. "I was just surprised you'd be willing to show me. I didn't expect that. It's a very kind offer, your majesty."

Your majesty again, huh? Frowning into his glas at the title, Danny pressed down the urge to sigh. He'd hoped they'd gotten closer today. But apparently Prince Timothy had decided to draw a wall between them for now. Maybe that was why he hadn't offered Danny anything in return? Because he didn't want it yet.

He just hoped this wasn't about Dan's duel with Prince Jason. Because Danny did not have anything to do with that plan at all. It wouldn't be fair! Then again, Danny had kind of let Prince Jason get hurt…

Sighing after all, Danny watched as the soup was served. Oh, well. They'd just have to get there. They did have a lot of time, after all.

Chapter Text

"Ghost-speak," Phantom nodded with a smirk, as though he hadn't just shown them their most fearsome weapon. As though Tim couldn't have found out by Lord Dantrey's reaction that those two chirps must've been some kind of demand for a report. Why? Why would they show them? That right there was the Infinite Land's most powerful strategic weapon, after all.

Suddenly, as though he had sensed that Tim had thought something he shouldn't have, Phantom turned to him. "You should to learn it, too… I could start teaching you on the way home, if you want?"

What?

"I get to learn it?" he asked, just to make sure where he'd misunderstood. Because there was no way, absolutely no way, that he, an enemy prince whom they would take hostage and must know would try to report back, would be allowed to learn the meaning behind their battle cries. Which, apparently, had a name.

But Phantom nodded. Nodded, as though that should've been obvious. "Yes? It would be a problem if I gave a command and you couldn't understand it, right?" Ah. Alright then. In other words, Tim was to follow his orders no matter what. So he probably knew Tim would be tempted to share. Then, this was a test. The thought made him nervous enough that he only distantly realised Phantom say something about the uses of ghost-speak. What was the right answer here? What kind of answer did Phantom want to hear?

"I won't force you to learn, if you don't want to," Phantom shrugged casually, smiling as though he already knew what tim would say when he himself had no idea, "Not knowing might be dangerous, is all."

Alright, then. So Phantom wanted Tim to accept the challenge. To prove he would be a good little hostage for them. To do as told and stop questioning his decisions. And, sure, Tim could do that. At least on the surface.

He was definitely going to send back information to his family.

"Ah, no," Tim smiled, pretending that the words didn't taste sour and dangerous on his tongue, "I'd be honoured to. I was just surprised you'd be willing to show me. I didn't expect that. It's a very kind offer, your majesty."

That had been the wrong answer, apparently. At least Phantom frowned as he went to drink another sip of his glas. Not sure what he'd said that was wrong, Tim only but his tongue as the soup was finally brought out. What had he said that Phantom didn't want to hear? Or had he not said something, was that the issue?

He almost flinched when Phantom sighed. Yeah, he had to figure it out, and fast. Before it got worse.

"Hey, twerp? Can I have yours? Since you won't eat it anyways." Phantom looked at his brother at that comment, not reacting to the derogatory nickname at all, and made a lazy gesture with his right hand. Lord Dantrey smiled at him and took the plate that'd just been placed in front of Phantom.

"Is something wrong?" Tim asked cautiously. If it was, he didn't want to annoy Phantom further. They'd made him angry enough for a day and then some. They were lucky he was as calm as he was, really. But they also needed to know what was wrong, so they wouldn't keep doing that.

It was Lord Dantrey who casually answered instead of the High Chief: "Oh, my brother doesn't eat soup. He's being ridiculous like that."

"Wha- I am not being rediculous!" Phantom glared at his brother a bit, then turned to Tim to explain: "I don't like that you can't tell what's in there. It might be dangerous to eat, it might be safe, you never know." Was he… implying they had poisoned the soup? As though being able to read his thoughts on his face, Phantom smiled. "Oh, it's soup in general. Please don't take it personally."

Next to him, Lord Dantrey snorted. "You're so dramatic. You've eaten worse things than soup and you know it! But no, after using toxic water to boil tea, and eating the raw meat of a poisonous lizard, and - oh! - that one time you drank a whole cup of poisoned wine while holding eye contact to the guy who'd tried to poison you… You draw the line at soup."

What? That was crazy. Absolutely crazy. Was that normal for the barbarians? Did they just do that? It'd make sense with the way Lord Dantrey had said it so casually. Except that it wouldn't make any sense at all.

Phantom cleared his throat looking away. "You make that sound so bad… The toxins in the water were magic, I'm immune to that. The other time we didn't have anything else and a fire would've been too risky. Also, that was a wyvern not a poisonous lizard."

Lord Dantrey snorted. "Same thing."

It really isn't, Tim thought hysterically.

"And the thing with the wine was one time. I wanted Vlad to stop his attempts to poison me all the time, okay? And only a little bit because his face was funny when I did that," Phantom continued nonchalantly, as though he wasn't talking about assassination attempts towards him, "And you know very well all of that is completely different than soup."

Lord Dantrey made a show of eating a spoon full while maintaining eye-contact with Phantom. Then he leaned over, and deadpanned: "The soup won't attack you, brother."

Phantom just threw his hands back up. "You never know what's in there!"

Awkwardly, Bruce cleared his throat. "I can see that soup is a… sensitive issue for you. I'll have something else prepared for you."

Calming down almost immediately, Phantom shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm good."

Tense silence filled the air a little longer, but when all Phantom did was smile they slowly allowed themselves to relax. The High Chief really did not seem to be angry about it. It was an absurd thought, him just taking that in stride. But apparently that was what he intended to do. So they tried to force the tension out of the air and started to eat.

For a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay. Then, Dantrey mumbled: "Wouldn't be so damn scrawny if you actually ate."

And immediately, Phantom was annoyed again, glaring daggers at his brother. Tim wasn't sure how Lord Dantrey only smirked at the High Chief while those green eyes glowed at him like a last warning. "I am strong enough," Phantom hissed, finger tapping against the table irritatedly. The leather of his glove made a dull sound against the table cloth.

But Lord Dantrey merely shrugged, body language causal and smirk firmly in place. Even in the face of Phantom's very obviously growing anger. "Hm… Nah. I don't think so. You're a scrawny, squeamish twerp."

The way Phantom curled his lip at the obvious insult - and it must've been empty words meant to anger him. After all, Phantom was lean with muscles, and squeamish would've been the last word Tim would've thought to use as a descriptor for him - could've made a dragon cower back. But not his brother, apparently, whose smirk only deepened. Like the cat that got the canary.

"Oh, I'll show you-" Suddenly interrupting himself, Phantom took a deep breath. Then he looked Dantrey up and down. Suddenly, something lit up in his face, as though he'd just had a discovery. Suddenly sounding tired and not angry at all anymore, he sighed and rubbed his temples. "I am not going to fight you, Dantrey."

And for whatever reason, Lord Dantrey looked disappointed at that. Clicking his tongue twice at Phantom and… pouting? Was he pouting? Looked like it. Pouting, Lord Dantrey turned back to his soup. "Damn. Didn't think you'd notice…"

Now looking fondly exasperated, Phantom shook his head. "Seriously. You're impossible, do you know that?"

Lord Dantrey grinned once again as he answered happily: "Oh, I'm very possible. I'm sitting right next to you!"

And Phantom… laughed at that. He hid it behind his hand, but he was definitely laughing. "That was a stupid joke."

Lord Dantrey nodded sagely, as though Phantom had said something very wise. "I know it was," he agreed, "After all, I got it from you."

Phantom rolled his eyes, smile still on his lips. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath, to which Lord Dantrey beamed like it was a great compliment.

Watching the two of them, Tim felt warm. It was surreal to witness, to see this side of Phantom. He'd been so full of thinly veiled threats and mind-games all the time, Tim really hadn't expected a side to him that was so… soft. Huh. So even a warlord and his fearsome general were only brothers in the end, it would seam. Teasing and pushing each other's buttons, joking and insulting each other… It reminded Tim of his own brothers.

Looked like the High Chief was just a human, too, in the end.

A human who loved his home, Tim thought, thinking back to this afternoon. Now that Tim had a moment to think about it, without the constant fear to say something wrong or give the wrong reaction, Tim noticed how happy Phantom had sounded when he'd talked about the Infinite Lands. Maybe that was why he'd been so happy to answer all of Tim's questions, because he liked to talk about his home?

I would say it's the same reason I asked you for your time today. That's what he'd said, right? Tim had completely forgotten that in the whole chaos with the duel right after that. But looking at Phantom now, seeing how happily and open he interacted with his brother, right after he'd been so angry with the man…

It would give some explanation for his willingness to just gloss the whole duel-thing over. And Lord Dantrey had not apologised for the obvious threat he'd made, but he had been forced to apologise for most of the rest. So, it looked like the offer to 'get along' still stood, then.

Maybe.

Tim hoped so. Maybe he could test it out? But how? Well, maybe by calling his name in front of him, see how he'd react?

"Lord Dantrey?" Tim asked. He got a hum in reply, which was good. Lord Dantrey didn't even stop as he raised his glass to his mouth so Tim wouldn't have known he'd been heard otherwise. Steeling his nerves, Tim put on a smile. Gods, if he was wrong this would go badly. "You mentioned Danny used toxic water to-"

Tim was interrupted by Lord Dantrey choking on his water and coughing heavily. Outside something metal clattered to the ground. When Tim looked over, Sir Rain ducked into view, picking up a dagger with an apologetic smile. Across from Tim, Phantom only rolled his eyes. "Who's being dramatic now?"

Ignoring him, Lord Dantrey held up a hand at Tim while he tried to get his breathing under control again. "Sorry, what?"

Okay, no. This had been a bad idea. He'd gone to far, right? The offer had probably been empty anyways. Just a formality or something. Right? He had to… He had to gloss this over somehow.

Tim tried for a genuine smile, but he thought he probably only got shaky. "Oh, I was talking about what you mentioned earlier. That you brother used toxic water to boil tea?"

But Dantrey shook his head, waving his hands. "No, no, not that part! Why'd you just call him?" He pointed at Phantom with his tumb.

Phantom in turn, rolled his eyes once more and pushed Dantrey's hand out of his face. "Danny," he answered for Tim, "You know. My name?"

It was a whole lot easier to breathe when Dantrey turned his eyes away from him to look at Phantom. "I know. But he knows?"

Looking away, Phantom crossed his arms. A slight blush covered his cheeks, but Phantom hid it well under a mask of annoyance. Not well enough to fool anyone, however. "Not that it concerns you, but to answer your question: Yes. I did offer him my name."

For a moment, Lord Dantrey looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something but didn't know what. Phantom just shook his head at that, turning back to Tim. "Please ignore my brother. He's overreacting."

"I'm not. I'm really, really not," Lord Dantrey, who had apparently gotten over his shock at the comment, disagreed vehemently, "In fact, I think you're underreacting here. I mean… You offered him your given name?"

Phantom sighed deeply. Rubbing his temples, he nodded. "I did. What of it? We're engaged, Dan."

"You don't know him!" Lord Dantrey cried, throwing up his arms.

"Not yet. I will."

Phantom's voice sounded so sure, so full of certainty, that Tim had to gulp. On one hand it made sense, the two of them getting to know each other. He was right, after all: Though the reminder had been unwelcome, the two of them would get married. So it only stood to reason that they would get to know each other. On the other hand, though, Tim wasn't sure he wanted to know how a warlord of the barbarians spend his days.

I am aware that you don't love me right now, echoed in Tim's memories, Maybe one day that could change..

It could, Tim realised suddenly. He hadn't given it much thought. It had never occurred to him that this man, who'd threatened the entire continent, had threatened his home and his family, whose fancy was the one thing the continued existence of everyone he held dear relied on, could one day be the object of his affections. But now? He couldn't deny the warm feeling he'd gotten when he'd seen Phantom interact with Lord Dantrey earlier. And Phantom had said that he'd at least try to be nice to Tim.

Here's the thing. Tim had been raised by his parents to be the perfect tool for an arranged marriage. The happy little heir married off for money and power. He knew all about how to lure his future spouse in, how to make them want to give him everything they had to give. Though he didn't like the techniques he'd learned from his mother, he knew exactly what to do to manipulate someone with love. And it was because he knew all that that he knew he himself wouldn't be immune to it.

There hadn't been a lot of love given in the Drake duchy. Every scrap of affection had been earned. To make sure he wouldn't be manipulated back his parents had to make sure he wouldn't love his spouse back, that he wouldn't need their love. And to get that "neediness" to go away they had tried to get him accustomed to long periods of time by himself. It'd only been after Bruce had taken him into the Wayne household where hugs were so freely given and they protected each other fiercely - which, as he'd learned, was the "I love you" of the Waynes as most of them were too emotionally constipated to speak the words out loud - that he learned how starved for attention and love he actually was.

He knew very well that he was likely to fall for Phantom. A few comforting touches here, a little kindness there, a bit of genuine interest in him. He wasn't sure that was all it'd take for Tim to fall for Phantom by now. Not after all those years with his siblings, Bruce and Alfred. Still, the years of his childhood had left its mark, and he didn't think it'd be too hard for Phantom to get Tim's affection. Not in a land where everyone else would hate him for who he was, where he'd be constantly in danger and would need to gain Phantom's favour as much as he possibly could.

And, of course, Tim could not deny that Phantom was an attractive man. He was handsome, strong and muscular with healthy white hair and soft facial features. Also, Tim had noticed how sometimes he'd catch himself thinking Phantom's habits were cute. There'd been a couple of times by now, even though they'd only just met so few days ago. Like his smile, or the way he had rubbed his hair in the garden.

But what then? What if Tim fell for Phantom in the end? He would't be strayed from helping his family by his feelings, wouldn't let himself be, never. But would he be able to actually fight against a man he loved if need be? And what if Phantom wouldn't love Tim back? Without his family around, Tim felt like he might break if he was trapped in a one-sided love in the Infinite Lands of all places.

It was a scary thought, Tim possibly falling for Phantom. But now that he thought about it it was possible. Likely, even. And Tim wasn't sure what to think about that.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to. Because while Tim had been stuck in his head with that revelation, Duke had mustered up the courage to address the High Chief in question: "Your majesty? I'm not sure we can follow… What exactly is all this about?"

"Given names are special. You don't just give them out." Lord Dantrey huffed, shaking his head as he fell back in his chair. "In fact, the privilege of choosing whom to give your name is sacred. No one - not the Chiefs nor Danny and not even the Ancients themselves - can take that from you. But you have to be careful whom you give your name to - because once you give it to them you can't take it back.

"And no one is allowed to address you by a name that you haven't given them. It's…" He thought about it for a while, then sighed. "You know how if you want to disrespect someone, like really, deeply, personally disrespect someone you could do something like spit on their grave?" He said this as though he'd done it before. Tim decided not to think about it. "Well, using a name that hasn't been given to you is worse than that. It's, like… The highest disrespect you could do them."

That… was a lot more important than Phantom had made it sound when he'd offered Tim could call him Danny. So this was actually a huge deal? It did sound like Phantom was actually the brother with the inappropriate reaction here.

But Phantom only sighed, waving it away. "Sure, all of that's right. Still, there's a lot of things that would have greater significance. Apart from giving and taking names, the only thing you have to be aware of is changing what you call someone, really."

Lord Dantrey nodded reluctantly. "That's true, I guess."

Intrigued and desperate for more information about the culture he'd have to be aware of soon, Tim asked: "And why do I need to be aware of that? You gave me the name Phantom and the name Danny to call you by, right? So why can't I use both?"

"You can," Lord Dantrey said, shrugging, "It's more about what it means. You see, if someone offers you their given name that's a great show of trust. Being allowed to call them by that means that the two of you are close. As in "hurt him and you got a problem with me"-kind of close. So if you stop doing that and go back to calling them by their alias it means, well…"

"You'd be saying I messed up and you want everyone to know you're extremely angry with me, your highness," Phantom answered, breathing out a soft laugh. Tim wasn't really sure what was funny about that to him, but he guessed it had something to do with how Tim would basically throw himself to the wolves doing something like that. "I'd imagine if you just randomly switched between the two of them you'll give the whole palace and the entire council heart attacks."

Tim felt like Phantom really should have explained all of this to him in the garden.

The High Chief did not seem to think the same. He only drank more water, completely unbothered by the shock Tim was going through at the moment.

"That's an interesting custom," Bruce chimed in thoughtfully, " So if there's a given name there's other names, too?"

Dantrey sighed. "I can't believe he offered his name without so much as explaining that. How am I suddenly the competent one? He's supposed to be the one good with people! We can't both be bad at communicating…"

"Hey!"

Lord Dantrey ignored his brother, turning to B. "The given name is the name your parents give you. It's the most important and most intimate name. You either offer your given name or a nickname everyone calls you. Danny, for example, does that. He doesn't like to hear his full given name, so the nickname derived from that is what he gives instead. Works the same as though that's his given name, and he can only use one nickname for that.

"And on the other hand there is the chosen name. That's the name you give to people you aren't close with. Phantom is Danny's chosen name. Like the name suggests, it's a name you chose for yourself. And once you do that means no one, and I mean no one, can call you by your given name until you give it to them again. Even if they knew you as a wee baby and used your given name all your life before you had a chosen name.

"There's no set point in your life when you have to choose a name, but most do before they become of age. Once you do choose a name you have a three years grace period, since sometimes you choose a name and later notice you don't like it. So you can re-choose a name as often as you like during those three years. But after that? You have your chosen name and it's set. However, since everyone grows up knowing they'll have to choose a name most children think about what name they want to choose for years. So it's rare that a chosen name gets changed up much, even in those three years.

"And then there's titles and Paths. If you don't give someone any name, they'll call you by that title. For example, people who Danny didn't give a name to would address him as High Chief. It would be Head Warrior for me. Head Guard for Fright. Chief for Ember. Things like that. And Rain out there? He doesn't have a title but he is a guard, so if he doesn't offer a name he'd be called Warrior, after the Path he chose to walk."

"There's also aliases and titles," Phantom added thoughtfully, "Sometimes you'll have multiple chiefs in one place - like at the council. And then calling them all by their title would be confusing. But maybe they don't want even the other chiefs to call them by their chosen name. So they give a combination of that instead. I didn't want to be called High Chief very time I met someone new, and after Pariah the title by it's self held a lot of… sour memories for many of us. So I officially gave my alias with title to all of my subjects. That's why people from the Lands who don't know me personally call me High Chief Phantom instead of Phantom."

B grunted, obviously cataloguing all of that information for later analysis. Tim hoped it wasn't so obvious to the two brothers across the table and that Tim could only tell because he knew B so well. "May I ask what you mean by the path they follow? And how would a stranger know which it is?"

Lord Dantrey blinked at B in surprise. As though this was common knowledge and they should all be aware of. As though the thought they wouldn't know hadn't even crossed his mind. "Well," he said slowly, like talking to a child, "that's the Path they chose. Everyone chooses a Path when they reach adulthood. You can tell by the colour of the paint."

"Come one, Dan. How are they supposed to know?" Phantom softly admonished his brother. To Bruce, he said: "There are four different Paths we can choose between. When we do that we choose what we want to set our hearts on, what direction we want to take our lives. That's why we call it the Paths, too. And they're all distinct from each other by different Patron Ancients and colours.

"Warriors wear red paint, for example. These are the hunters, the soldiers, the guards. Everyone who decided to spend their lives fighting in any way, really. We rely on them for protection, for food and for training the children. It's one of the most commonly chosen Paths, and the Path you most likely won't be able to walk until the end.

"Wanderers wear white, and if they choose not to wear their paint they hide their faces. Sometimes behind hoods and sometimes behind veils. The method is up to them." Tim remembered Chief Desiree, whose face had been hidden by a veil. Was she a wanderer and a chief? "Their calling is traveling. They go far and wide, beyond the borders of the Infinite Lands. They come back with many experiences and new perspective. Whenever a Chief makes a choice they will ask a wanderer they trust for their council."

Hm. Good to know. That was a nice thought, wasn't it? That people from the Infinite Lands had walked and spied on all of them without them ever noticing? Bet that won't give B any sleepless nights. Nope. Not at all.

Oblivious to their inner shock, Phantom continued with his explanation: "Weavers wear green. They're the ones who make things. Woodworkers, blacksmiths, seamsters, cobblers… Any kind of profession that creates. The craftsmen of the Infinite Realms. And I don't suppose I need to tell you how important they are.

"There's also the wise. They wear purple. There's not many of them, and differently from the other Paths not everyone can choose this one. It's the Path of the scholars. Experts in a field of their choosing. And more often than not our healers are also one of the wise - either that or they were blessed by Frostbite himself."

Nodding, Bruce did a bad job of hiding how he mentally noted everything down and itched to put it to paper so he could distribute the information to the rest of the League. "And by paint you mean…?"

"The ceremonial paint, of course. Your Path determines the colour of it, and your clan the design. That's why mine is glowing and his-" Phantom pointed at Lord Dantrey "-is red."

Nodding, Bruce carefully eyed Phantom. "And the black paint we saw at the negotiations?"

"Symbolise their rank as a chief. When a chief takes on their duties they are relieved from the duties of their Path, though they may still choose to walk it. Their responsibilities as a chief always take priority, though. A royal ceremonial paint is special because it glows in the colour of the Guardian Ancient of the wearer. But since you can't really make a colour that glows both purple and golden, Clockwork and Frostbite decided to compromise. They ended up with blue because Clockwork's skin is blue and Frostbite wears a prosthetic arm made out of blue ice."

"I had no idea there was so much meaning behind all of that," Tim whispered before he could stop himself. Immediately he wished he could take it back. Rip the words out of the air and swallow them back down. Because there was no way to see them as anything but rude, even while Phantom - Danny was playing nice and telling them things.

But again, the High Chief only laughed. "Well, yeah," he said amused in the same tone of voice as though he'd said obviously, "Why else would we even bother with it? If it didn't mean anything."

And, well. Tim supposed that was a good point, actually.

Chapter Text

Danny was sitting by the window waiting for a letter from Elle later that night. He was exhausted after the day he'd had. Too much had happened too fast, really. But, well, at least dinner had worked out great. And the walk in the gardens with Prince Timothy had been so nice, too! And honestly he was just glad that he got along at least somewhat well with all of the Waynes.

So all in all he'd count today as a win. Could have gone better but it also could have been much, much worse.

What he didn't expect as he was sitting there, watching the flames dance in the fireplace from a safe distance of the entire too large room, was for his bedroom door to suddenly open. Frowning, he sat up a bit more. Because that was strange, right? He knew for a fact that Dan was nocked out cold - they'd spend some time together before Dan had fallen asleep on him and Danny had moved to his own room - and nobody else had a reason to enter his room without knocking in the middle of the night.

Carefully, Danny drew the dagger from his side. He didn't know how much magic he could use in Gotham without running too low, so he'd prefer not to use his blessings. He wouldn't want to risk anything if he didn't need to.

The door opened a bit more and in slipped…

"Your highness?" Surprised by the young prince suddenly in his room, Danny tilted his head. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

The prince stood in the door, frozen stiff with wide blue eyes. How strange, it almost looked like he hadn't expected to see Danny here. But this was the room he'd been given, he knew it was. He would have doubted himself, but all of his things were still here. Right where he'd left them.

"Did you go to the wrong room?" Danny guessed. He could've gotten lost with all the doors in this unnecessary large castle. Then again, this was his home so probably not. "Or did you need something from me?"

"I-" The Prince took a sharp breath, eyes still locked onto Danny. It reminded him a bit of the monsters he'd fought last year, when they realised he actually wasn't as weak as they had thought and that he would be a threat to them. But why would the prince have that same look?

Frowning, Danny gestured to another chair closer by the fire. "Come on in. Sit. Then we can talk."

The prince's shoulders drew back as he stood taler. He closed the door behind him when he moved, his strides long and purposeful. Well, Danny supposed he'd want to put up a strong front too, if he was alone with the ruler of a country which hadn't only committed countless atrocious war crimes a few years ago but had also been an enemy until just recently. They didn't know each other, Danny had to remind himself, and they still had to built trust.

It hurt, seeing the tenseness that had taken over such a young child. Knowing that it was in response to him. Danny had always tried to make people feel safe. But then again, he'd always been their leader, the face of the rebellion, someone their Ancients trusted, the son of their-

Danny had never really been in the kind of situation where his position was predisposed to cause distrust. He was lucky they were as nice and open to him as they were. He shouldn't forget that. It had been easy to forget, with how accommodating and kind everyone in Gotham was being, how patient they were. But he shouldn't forget it regardless, he supposed.

When the prince had sat down and still didn't say anything, Danny decided he would take the lead. This was a young child they were talking about, after all. Older than he when he'd… gotten his first blessing, but much younger than when he'd joined the fight and started a rebellion. Old enough to remember the war, too young to have been a part of it.

That must make all of this much harder for the child, he thought. Maybe that was why he was here?

"I didn't expect you to come here. Especially this late," Danny said, trying for a kind smile like the one he'd seen on Prince Richard's face earlier, "Just… there's nicer ways to go about it. Maybe knock next time?"

The prince pressed his lips together firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. Still no word left his mouth.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" Danny sighed, wondering what he could say to make the young prince open up. What would the children in the Lands want to hear? Something that would encourage them… "I suppose, that means you must be very brave to come here. So why don't you talk to me, hm? Make use of that bravery of yours. You've come this far, after all."

The prince scoffed, but finally shifted back. He glared at Danny for a bit, suspicion and something else in his narrowed eyes. "And if I do not want to talk?"

Danny shrugged. "Then I guess that means good night." What else would they do then, after all? He couldn't just keep the prince up for nothing! Children at that age still needed a lot of sleep, right?

Something defiant lit up the prince's face, before it melted away and the child sighed. "Alright. Let us… talk."

Smiling, Danny nodded. "Good. So… Why did you come here?"

Again, the prince scoffed. "Oh, let us stop with the pretences. It is obvious. Though you'll just have to take my word for it that I came to get information and not to cause you harm."

"Guess it is kind of obvious," Danny agreed. And, well, he hadn't thought the child had come to hurt him - he didn't even have a dagger drawn - but he could also see how someone else could've misinterpreted it. After all he had just snuck into Danny's room in the middle of the night. That could easily lead to a misunderstanding. And speaking of daggers, leaning back in his chair again Danny suddenly noticed that he still had his dagger drawn. Quickly and hopefully unnoticed he sheathed it again. He didn't need it talking to the prince, after all.

Now that that was taken care of, Danny considered what to do next. Judging by the prince's reaction just now he wasn't someone for talking around the bush, eh? Dan would appreciate that. Unfortunately, Dan was already deep asleep. And Danny had no clue what to say next.

"Your highness-"

"Use my name." The sudden request surprised Danny, so he only blinked in response. The prince rolled his eyes. "My name. I did not yet give it to you and you cannot use it without my permission, correct?" Danny nodded. "Well, I wish to hear it. Now that it's come to this, I want you to use my name."

Ah. Well, if it would make him more comfortable. "With or without title?"

The prince pursed his lips. "We needn't bother, I don't see why we would still have use for such formalities."

Alright, then. For a moment Danny considered whether he should give his name in return, but… He didn't usually give his name. So he only nodded in answer and corrected himself: "Damian. There is something that you want, isn't there? Why don't you tell me what all of this is about, and then we can figure things out from there."

Anger flared up in the prince's eyes once again. "Are you dull? This is obviously about your engagement to my brother. I understand that you wish to marry him, and I do not approve! He is to remain here, in Gotham, where he belongs. And I came to make ensure that is what would happen. I will not just stand by and allow you to force him into this marriage!"

Ah. Yeah, Danny had figured something like that. Honestly, he was surprised that nobody had said anything so far. But maybe the rest of the family was just too nice to say anything? Still. "It was Prince Timothy who asked to marry me," Danny tried to clear up, "I asked for a marriage with any of the available heirs of the Juisitria League. And while I am very glad that it was your brother to whom I ended up getting engaged, it wasn't my idea and I'm not forcing him into anything."

"He does not want to go with you!" Damian denied, anger obviously rising.

Surprise filled Danny. Prince Timothy didn't? He had been the one who'd asked for their engagement. But then, getting engaged at all had been Danny's suggestion and he hadn't had any intention of it. He didn't mind the marriage, really. Prince Timothy was kind and beautiful, and Danny could see himself falling for him one day. Already he wanted to make that curious gleam in the prince's eyes shine brighter, wanted to lure him out of his shell and see the smart man he'd seen glimpses of over the last few days. He liked Prince Timothy well enough, and though he'd never imagined his marriage to be of political nature or to someone he barely knew he still felt that it could work.

Was it not the same for the prince? Had he maybe noticed he wouldn't be happy with Danny, now that they'd talked more? Or had he done something that had made Prince Timothy feel uncomfortable? Had he and Dan been to chaotic during dinner, maybe? If that was the case, Danny figured it would make sense that he would've confided into his family.

And still. Damian was a child. It wasn't impossible that Prince Timothy had only asked for advice. Or voiced that he was nervous about all of this, that was possible as well. It could be that he had second thoughts but no intention to cancel the wedding. Or maybe he really did want to break off the engagement and didn't know how. A child of Damian's age could've heard all of that and understood it as his brother not this marriage and not being able to get out of it.

So he chose his words carefully when he asked to make sure: "Is that what your brother said? That he doesn't want to marry me?"

"It…" Damian flinched, looking away for a second. "It was obvious. I am not so inept at emotions that I need it spelled out for me."

"So he hasn't said he doesn't want this?" Danny asked, making sure again.

Damian scowled at him, anger and defiance back in place. "I still know it is so."

"I see…" So maybe that was how Prince Timothy felt, maybe it wasn't. At that age was when he'd first met Elle, right? Round about. Back then she would sometimes claim things about him that she felt. Like that Danny was scared she would get lost and he couldn't find her so she had to stay close to him, even though she had been the one afraid of loosing sight of Danny and being separated from him again. It could be like that, too. But still, just on the off-chance that Prince Timothy really didn't want to got through with the marriage anymore Danny added: "Well, if that really is how he feels he is more than welcome to tell me any time."

Somehow, that didn't seem to mollify the kid. And finally, Danny was able to recognise that other emotion that was still in the child's eyes.

"Damian, why don't you want him to go?" he asked softly, "I understand he's your brother and you don't like the thought of not being able to see him anymore. But there's more to it, isn't there? You look… scared."

The kid bristled. "I- It's only natural! My brother is about to travel beyond our reach, where I cannot protect him from you and your people. Of course I am… disconcerted when there is no telling what peril or pain you'll cause-"

"I wouldn't do that."

Confused blue eyes met Danny's steady green ones in the low light of the fire. "What?"

"Pardon the interruption, Damian," Danny said sincerely, leaning forward slightly to get his point across, "but I would not do that. Your brother will be traveling with me as my husband. I won't let him get hurt, and I especially would never lay a hand on him myself."

The prince looked everything but convinced. "Fine, then," he said, irritation colouring his words, "Swear it, then. Swear on your honour."

Well, that wasn't an oath that could be made lightly. Then again, Danny didn't see any reason not to in this case. So he stood, telegraphing his movements when he noticed Damian's shoulders tense back up. Slowly, so that the prince would have enough time to stop him if he was uncomfortable with it, Danny came closer and sat on the floor in front of the prince's chair. He made sure to meet the prince's eye as he placed a fist on his heart.

"I swear on my honour," Danny said solemnly without breaking eye contact, "that once we are married I will never lay a hand on your brother, that I will do my utmost to protect him from harm, and that I will care for him to the best of my abilities." Lowering his hand but still not looking away from the stunned prince, Danny gave a soft smile. "I can't promise that it'll be easy for him there. And I can't promise that everyone will accept him. But I would never, ever marry someone just to neglect them or leave them fighting on their own. I'm not heartless enough for that. Do you understand, Damian? In the Lands, marriage makes you family. And that means something."

For a long while, Damian seemed lost in thought. Danny just let him be. It was an incredibly complicated mess of a situation to begin with, and it must've been even harder to grasp all the intricacies of it for a child. Though if he was anything like Elle, Danny knew Damian would absolutely hate Danny should he point that out.

After a long while, Damian finally gave a single, sharp nod. "I will trust that you value your honour and will uphold your word. I do not trust you beyond that."

Laughing quietly to himself, Danny stood back up to walk over to his own chair again. "I wouldn't expect you to. Only a fool would trust someone they don't know. And considering our history…"

When Danny looked back up at the prince, Damian was looking at him thoughtfully. "You are a strange man, Phantom."

Somehow, Danny felt like there was more to that statement than the price said. But Damian seemed to be under the impression that he'd said enough to be understood as he leaned back at carefully took Phantom in.

"I've been told," Danny admitted truthfully. He had often been called weird before. As a child blessed three times over who heralded from Star Kingdom and yet lived and breathed like someone from the Infinite Lands he'd always been an outlier. Too much Lands to see eye to eye with the southerners anymore, yet too much League to truly fit among the children of the Lands.

It'd gotten better over time, of course. As he learned to live with the scars the war had left on his heart, as he learned more about the Lands, as he was accepted into them by the residents. By now, his memories of life in Star were vague and foggy most of the time. Had it really been ten years already? That meant he'd lived more years in the Lands than in Star by now, huh?

A strange thought. And one he shouldn't be having now. That was a crisis for another time.

So rather than that, Danny decided to focus back on the conversation he was having. Where had he left off, again? Ah, right. "Anyways. Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

There was a long moment of silence. Then, Damian sat up straighter again. "No," he said, voice steely, "What do I need to do for your to leave Timothy alone? What do you want? There has to be a way to end this whole engagement scheme."

Ah. Well, Elle at that age would have hated everyone who would've tried to "take" Danny from her, too. So it only made sense that Damian was reacting like this, really. This was probably the first time one of his siblings was moving away. Danny knew that not one member of house Wayne, not even King Bruce himself, was married yet. It must've been upsetting for Damian. Especially since the news had come so suddenly.

"Oh, kid…" Danny sighed, trying to find a way to comfort him, "I know it's not easy to accept. But your brother is an adult. He made this decision himself, and the two of us will get married. That's not something that will go away just because you don't like it. I know you'll miss him. I'm sure he'll miss you, too. But… promise you won't make this harder for him than it already is? You could still write letters after we're gone."

"That's not enough," Damian insisted, blinking away tears.

Poor guy. "I know," Danny said, "It's not the same, is it? Then how about this, you can come visit. Make sure he's alright. Gotham is right next to us, after all - there's no reason you couldn't come by every now and again."

Damian grit his teeth, closing his eyes. A tear managed to slip past his control. "There's really nothing I can do?"

Shaking his head, Danny sighed again. He was doing that a lot this evening. "I'm sorry. But we can't call off the wedding just because you'll miss him. That's not how it works."

While the prince took a deep, shaky breath, Danny tried to figure out how to comfort the child. Suddenly, the heavy moment was broken when a scratching came from the window.

What- Oh.

Quickly, Danny jumped up and walked over to open the window. Just as he'd expected, Cujo came flying in. The excited little cub flew around Danny a couple of times before letting the small chest he was carrying fall into Danny's waiting hands. Not wasting any time that could be used snuggling, Cujo immediately landed on his shoulder where he could rub his head under Danny's with a loud purr.

"There you are," Danny greeted him with a smile, "How was your flight? Bet you're tired, aren't you? Such a good boy, flying all the way here for me." As he praised the cub, Danny carefully set the package aside on his bed so he could scratch Cujo behind his ears and transfer him into his arms. He was still small, but he'd grown over the last few years. By now he was a little too tall to fit onto Danny's shoulder comfortably. Not that it seemed to disturb the cub at all, though.

Only when he turned around with the cub securely held in his arms did he remember that Damian, as a prince of Gotham, had possibly never seen a creature like Cujo in person before. That it could possibly frighten him. Fortunately, when he met the prince's eyes they were filled with curiosity. Though his movements were cautious, he did stand up and come closer by a few steps. "Who is this…?"

"This is Cujo. He's a wyvern cub that I raise. He's also very smart and a fast flyer, so me and my family sometimes ask him to deliver letters or parcels," Danny explained softly, "Cujo, this is Damian. He's a prince."

Curiously, Cujo leaned out of Danny's arms to look at the prince. Chittering in the back of his throat quietly as his red eyes sparkled with interest, the cub reached out with one clawed paw toward the still child. Damian, in turn, flicked his eyes up at Danny in question. Happy that the prince wasn't scared, Danny nodded. He carefully stepped closer to Damian, who had reached out to hold a hand up for Cujo to sniff, palm up. Looked like the prince had dealt with strange animals before…

Cujo gave one tentative sniff to the outstretched hand, chirping in delight. His paw, still outstretched, reached for the prince's sleeve. Suddenly, before Danny could react, Cujo leapt out of his arms and onto Damian, who fell to the floor in a startled cry. But before Danny could apologise, the prince was already sitting up again, staring in absolute admiration at the cub gently clawing at his chest.

"Hello, little one," Damian breathed softly, slowly reaching out to run a gentle hand across the bright green scales. Delighted at the attention, Cujo yipped at Damian and pressed more firmly against his hand.

It was a precious sight and Danny couldn't help but smile as he sat down on the floor with them. "He likes you," he told Damian as though that wasn't already obvious.

Still, it made the child smile softly. "The feeling is mutual, then," he informed them, right hand still petting Cujo, "You said you are raising him?"

"Mh-hm," Danny hummed, "I found him a while back. He was all alone and scared, and at the time I was too, but he was also hurt. So I rescued him and, well, the rest is history. Wyverns live a great deal longer than humans so he's still just a baby, even after all these years. Or, well, more like a really small child. But he's still my baby, though, aren't you?" Red eyes glared at Danny, obviously insulted by his words. "Alright, alright. Not a baby. Just a child."

Happy with that, Cujo chirped again and settled in Damian's lap. "He seems comfortable with company."

Humming again, Danny reached out to also pet the now purring cub. "Most people don't know this, but wyverns are pack animals. Most people think they keep to themselves, but that's not true. That's just dragons. And, sure, wyverns aren't as sociable as amphitheres. But they do enjoy the company of their own small pack, and they like socialising with strangers from time to time. A wyvern as young as Cujo can't tell the difference between kind strangers and friends yet, but he does know who his family is."

"I see…" Damian thoughtfully looked at Cujo. "Is having a wyvern as a pet a common practice in the Infinite Lands, then?"

Well, wouldn't that be a thought? Danny couldn't help but chuckle. "No, not at all. Wyverns are protective of their young and only children could form a family tie to a human. It's vary rare and only happens when a wyvern has lost its family and no other wyvern pack is around to take it in. A faerie dragon or an amphithere is more common. Rare, but less so than a wyvern."

"A… faerie dragon?"

"The smallest dragons. They're about as tall as anywhere between a butterfly and a small bird. Their wings look like that, too. They're very magically inclined and a bit mischievous. Still, they're loyal and they like being spoiled. They lay their eggs high in the trees and leave them alone from there, so the eggs are easy to get and raise. But they're as self-sufficient as they're loyal so they seldom stay after they reach adulthood. After that, most of the time they only come visit the people who raised them every now and again."

"And an amphithere?"

"Hm… They lay a lot of eggs. So many that they often don't realise if one of them goes missing. The adult ones become as tall as a dragon, though, so it's not easy to raise them. They're a lot more violent in nature, too. But if they consider you family they will protect you to their death, so they're often raised as protectors. Like guard dogs." Danny thought about Dora's plethora of amphitheres at home and all the faerie dragons she'd raised that would come and visit her in swarms. She really loved all of them to death.

"But, like I said, it's still rare. Most people just have a gryphon or eagle or something." Danny shrugged.

For a while they just sat like that, not saying anything as Damian pet Cujo and Cujo relaxed in the prince's lap. Then, softly, Damian asked: "Would you mind telling me more? Please?"

"Gladly," Danny smiled, "However, not for too long. Cujo, you and me could all use some sleep soon."

Scratching behind Cujo's ear like Danny had done earlier, the prince nodded. "That is satisfactory, yes."

Chapter Text

There'd been a lot to think about last night, after the dinner.

Jason had gone back to his room, to overwhelmed with how everything had turned out to deal with people anymore that evening. Damian, too, had gone back to his room surprisingly quickly. Usually he would've fought to be part of the strategy meeting in Bruce's office that they definitely hadn't held, no sir. Yesterday, though, he had announced that he was tired and would retire for the night - and that he expected them to catch him all up, of course.

So it had been Dick, Duke, Steph, Barbs and Tim who'd joined B in his office that evening. Tim had taken over explaining what had happened during the duel for Jason, and then he and Barbs had retold what had happened in the gardens. Barbs told them that she couldn't see inside their rooms and thus only knew what had happened during outside. But her blessing had allowed her to give a second opinion on Tim and Phanto- Danny's conversation.

"I truly think he meant it when he said he wants us to have a positive relationship," Tim had told them, "and I think that's the reason why he wasn't angrier at Jason. He must've decided to give us some leeway and let the matter go."

It was once he was back in his own room, after they were done exchanging information, theories and opinions, that he allowed himself to be honest about it. Sure, they had gotten some leeway. But the question was still how much? Had they used all of it up now? And did he believe P- Danny's words? Did he really?

For the better part of that night he lay awake, pondering about how true what he'd said actually was. And, of course, the implications of it, both of if he was right - and if he had miscalculated. He'd fallen into a fretful sleep to those worries running around his head, and he'd woken up both mentally and physically exhausted.

Fortunately for him, though, their guests would not be joining them this morning. They'd announced so yesterday at dinner. Apparently, it was custom for warriors to wake at dawn so they could get some early training in every morning. Due to that they would be eating something far earlier than the Waynes and thus wouldn't join them. Instead, they had 'asked permission' to borrow the training hall where Jason and Lord Dantrey had duelled yesterday afternoon.

The knowledge took a lot of tension from the air, both for the staff and the royal family. And especially for Tim, who wasn't sure he could muster a smile this early in the morning after worrying so much last night. And the last couple of days, really.

When he arrived, Damian was already sitting at the table, glaring like a small, evil overlord plotting the downfall of their greatest foe. It was cute, considering that the glare in question was directed at Jason's plate of bacon. Not that Tim would ever dare say so out loud. No, he actually liked his limbs being attached to his body, thank you very much.

Jason, who seemed to have been the first one to arrive, was glaring similarly at his plate. Tim figured in his case it didn't have anything to do with the bacon on it, though.

Dick was also there, picking at his plate of pancakes half-heartedly. Steph was halfway done with her sandwiches, and Duke was sleeping on the table with an empty plate next to him. Once sat down, Tim got served an omelette and a cup of coffee.

Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair that morning. Usually, Dick would go on and on about what he had planned for that day and ramble about any and all of his thoughts. The rest of the family would nod along tiredly or ignore him, usually, with Jason being the exception to that rule. The second oldest sibling would be glaring or straight up telling Dick to shut it because it was too early for that crap. Then Damian would join Dick in the early morning chatter, never one to admit when he was tired and barely aware, and Steph would engage with both of them as she slowly woke up more and more. Just to annoy the others at the table, naturally.

Tim was half glad for the silence, and half frustrated with the implications of it.

B was the last one to join them. When he did, Dick was done with his plate and Tim was halfway through his, Steph and Damian were almost done and Jason was still glaring heatedly at his breakfast instead of eating anything. By now, Tim figured, that glare was the only hot thing about that plate.

Bruce had pulled an all-nighter, evident by the prominent shadows underneath his eyes. Tim would have bet money on Danny's words at dinner being the reason for it. No doubt their father figure had spend the night trying to figure out any and all possible meanings behind both their words and Danny's reason for telling them.

And Tim was grateful for the help. He really, really was. It was just… When Bruce sat down with a sigh, Tim couldn't help the small pang of guilt. He had never liked when people he cared for and loved had to worry about him. His parents had made sure he knew at a young age what a great sin it was to be a burden on his family. And though at the castle they had made even more sure he knew that wasn't actually the case, that lesson had never quite left him.

But even without it Tim felt he would've hated the pain his decisions had caused his family, all the stress and worry. He was supposed to be the one sacrificing himself, he was the one supposed to suffer through the consequences of that decision. Him, not his family.

He hated that he couldn't keep his family out of it.

But before he could delve too deeply into his own guilt, Damian all but jumped up. He started everyone, even made Dick flinch harshly enough that he almost fell out of his chair. And that, in turn, woke up Duke next to him who then looking around blearily and confused. "Wha-"

Damian, who had apparently waited for everyone to be accounted for, ignored all of that in favour of looking at all of them seriously. "I have" he started quietly but heavily, "vital information I wish to share. Concerning our… guests."

Surprisingly, Damian did not spit out the last word. It was probably the first time since he'd learned about the recent developments, but he actually sounded like he was trying to be neutral about it even if he still didn't quite agree with the term. It made Tim wonder what had happened when Damian had learned of this information he wanted to share. And how he'd learned about it, actually. Tim could guess when it had happened, he'd thought it was strange that Damian had left yesterday evening anyways. But how…?

Unfortunately, Damian continued as soon as he was sure that his statement had - of course - gained him all of their full attention: "Yesterday evening-"

Called it.

"-I slipped a sleeping agent into Phantom's glass-"

Wait, what?! No, hold up, Tim hadn't heard that right. Did he?!

"-and since he drank it, I-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Good thing Dick's panicked voice said what Tim was too chocked up to say himself. Now almost as pale as one of the barbarians, Dick looked around as though to ask whether the rest of them had known. Which Tim felt kind of insulted by, actually, because obviously they hadn't or they would have stoped it. "You did what?! Oh, gods, please tell me he didn't notice?"

Tim did not like the way Damian's lips pressed together. "He did," he confirmed all of their fears, "Though he drank it, it did not work. Either he is immune or had an antidote on hand."

Tim remembered how Lord Dan and Danny had talked about Danny's immunity some poisons last evening. He could see in Steph's eyes she was thinking about the same thing, and he was sure some of the others did too. After all, the context could possibly add some more meaning to the story. Had there been some subtext intended for Damian that they had missed? Maybe he would have to pay even closer attention to their words…

"That means that when I entered his room later-"

Dick's whimper and Duke's gasp managed to surmise Tim's own feelings on Damian's words pretty well.

"-he was awake. However, apart from threatening to kill me if I did not talk-"

Jason and Tim shot each other a look. Jason did have those favours now. Maybe… It probably wouldn't be enough to safe Damian, but maybe enough to help, at least?

"-he didn't appear to be cross about it. In fact, he was kind enough to answer my… concerns. Regarding the approaching wedding."

Bruce, who had since closed his eyes and was currently taking deep breaths as if to calm himself, cleared his throat. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Tt. Obviously that I was not going to agree to Timothy and him being-"

"No," Bruce sighed, opening his eyes. He looked constipated as he looked at Damian, fear and pain hidden in his eyes. "No, chum. What do you mean when you say he did 'not appear to be cross about it'?"

A valid question, actually. With Damian's upbringing his definition of people being angry was sometimes a bit… skewed.

"Ah." Damian nodded once. "I mean that he didn't seem to be angry about it. As I said, he was willing to address almost all of the dissatisfaction I voiced. I fact, he even allowed me to hold his pet wyvern when it arrived, and indulged my interest in the pets traditional to his homeland." Blushing a bit, Damian cleared his throat. Tim, on the other hand, highly suspected that the latter was why his brother seemed more amicable towards the barbarian brothers - animals had always been his weakness, as he called it.

"Either way, all he did in the end was to send me back to my room once we were done. Although I had to put up with him mocking me a fair bit in the beginning. He was all but gloating that he'd caught me…" Ah, there was some resentment for that in Damian's voice. Tim really, really hoped he wouldn't act on it.

A growl and a fist to the table interrupted the tense silence in the dining room. "What the fuck did ya do that for, huh?"

Jason angrily stabbed one of his bacon pieces with his fork, but Tim suspected the green in his eyes had a whole lot more to do with it than him suddenly deciding to eat his cold food after all. He quickly exchanged a glance with Dick, but his older brother shook his head. Don't, let him get it out for now. So Tim turned back to Jason and Damian, balling his hands under the table to keep from doing something stupid like interfering.

"Isn't it obvious?" Damian asked, crossing his arms defiantly, "I was intending to search his belongings for blackmail material. It only seemed fair to me, considering how many times he has done so himself. Given that he blackmailed us into a marriage, I mean."

The breath caught in Tim's throat. This was his fault, wasn't it? Damian had been in mortal danger last night, without any of them knowing and able to save him, and it had been for Tim. To save Tim. He'd put his brother's life on the line, because he hadn't been more careful. Hadn't planned for how far his family was willing to go for him.

Damian could have died for Tim, and it wouldn't even have done anything.

Jason seemed to think the same. At least he jumped up, hands flat against the table. "Only fair? Only fair?! Damian, he could've killed ya for that shit! D'ya hear me? You could've fucking died! Breakin' into his room in the middle o' the night? D'you know how that freaking looks? It looks like ya were tryin' ta kill 'im in his sleep, idiot!"

Damian sniffed as he turned away his head, but at least he had the decency to look a bit guilty. "He took my word for it that I did not. Besides, I knew the risks."

Damian looked defiant, but there was a tremor to his hands as he tried for a nonchalant shrug that gave him away. And there was something distinctly haunted hidden in his voice.

Suddenly, the air still locked in Tim's throat escaped in the form of a sob. With it, it felt like a dam inside him had broken. All the stress and guilt and frustration of the past days and all the fear of the last few nights suddenly welled up inside of him all at once. Desperation, that was all he could feel of the raging storm inside his chest. Desperation, and an achingly overwhelming mix of emotion so strong it felt numb.

"Then why?" he managed to get out as his vision blurred with tears. He wasn't sure whether they were angry tears, desperate tears or overwhelmed tears, just that he was secretly glad he didn't need to see the broken expression he was sure B and Dick would be sharing. He could still feel all of their gazes turned on him, though.

Before anyone could comment on him crying, Tim used the attention he now held to keep talking. With clearing his throat he even managed to keep his voice from breaking: "First Jason and now you… I mean, what is next? Is Dick going to try and seduce him? Or is Duke going to do something with his illusions? Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why do you all… Why?!"

Somewhere a chair was scraping back. Next to him, a hand that was probably meant to be comforting was placed on Tim's shoulder. It didn't help, and neither did the hug he got. He shrugged both of them off.

With the back of his hand, Tim tried to get rid of the tears but they refused to let themselves be wiped away.

"Tim…" a soft voice he was pretty sure belonged to Steph came from somewhere to his left, "He… I know he didn't go about it the right way, but they were trying to help. I- We care about you. You know that, right?"

Murmurs of agreement came from around the table. But Tim shook his head. "No, I know! But that makes it worse! It's bad enough already, you don't get to-" Another sob broke him off.

"Well, you don't get to just sacrifice yourself either, got it? Like hell we're going to just sit idly and let him take our brother!" Judging by the sound, Damian had hit Jason on the arm for that.

Tim could see blurry Dick raising his hands as he cleared his throat. "Maybe not the best way to put it, but yeah. Jay's right, Timmy, we couldn't just not do anything. You understand that, right?"

He did. He would've done the same. And still. "Do you even get how lucky we are Danny insists to keep by his decision to play nice?" he cried, the first tears spilling over, "Do you understand what could've happened if he was less dedicated to that? It's not worth it!"

"The fuck d'ya mean it ain't worth it? 'Course it is!" There was the sound of someone stomping their feet. Tim didn't know whether it was Duke or Damian, but Jason hissed out an insulted "Ow!"

"What Jason is trying to say," Dick mediated once again, "is that this is about your future. So of course it's worth taking risks."

"Yeah, you're family! That means we fight for you, remember?" Steph agreed easily.

They still didn't get it. "This isn't about what my parents told me," he insisted through tears, willing them to understand what he meant, "It's about not loosing anyone else!"

"But- We don't want to loose you, either," Duke finally joined the conversation. Sadly on the wrong side, if you asked Tim.

"It's not even doing anything! It's just mindless risks! We can't afford that."

"Oh, Tim…" Dick sighed, clearly wanting to hug him but refraining since he'd already shrugged them off, "I'm so sorry we hurt you. It's just… We love you so much. We have to try, you know?"

"All you're trying with this is to find the end of his patience. And if you keep going you'll find it!" More tears left his eyes when he tried to blink them away, but Tim angrily wiped them away. "And then what?"

"Okay," Bruce chimed in, also standing up. "I think we all need to take a breath here. Let's just calm down and figure out what to do next, alright? And, Jason, chum, give your brother some space."

"I don't need space" Tim shook his head, "I need you all to just stop!"

"Timothy is right." Damian's voice cut through the room like one of his blades. Everyone froze in surprise at it. Not at the tone, but at the words. Because Damian? Saying they shouldn't fight? That was shocking enough it even made Tim's tears finally stop. "As he says, the risk is needless. We should cease these attempts."

Everyone gawked at Damian. Tim sniffed. Dick absentmindedly ran a hand over Tim's back in soothing circles. It felt good, but everything - the fear, the desperation, the hopelessness, the anger, the grief - was just too much right now. Right then, Tim felt so much that it hurt, like his soul was about to explode with the sheer amount of emotion that wanted to burst out. It was just too much.

Tim shrugged his brother off again. Dick took the hint, though it didn't stop the worried glances Tim could now see still being directed at him.

The silence lingered. The air grew heavier. The tension rose.

Then, Damian nodded, seemingly satisfied that the arguing had stopped. "Will you let me finish talking now, so that I may explain? Or do you still insist on interrupting me?"

When nobody said anything, Damian sat down again. After a bit of hesitation, Jason followed suit. Bruce, who was the one who'd come over to Tim once his tears had started, also returned to his chair. Then, and only then, Damian stapled his hands and kept talking.

"As I said," he iterated in a calm but heavy tone of voice, "I slipped a sleeping agent in Phantom's glass. It did not work. So when I arrived, he was awake and waiting. It appears that he had not known it was me who did so. But he insisted to know my reasoning. We had a somewhat in-depth conversation of our objectives, and in light of what we discussed I am of the opinion that a change in strategy is in order."

A change in strategy? No! They had to stop!

But before Tim could say as much, Damian kept going: "In response to me voicing my opposition to the marriage, Phantom made an oath. He swore on his honour that he would never lay a hand on Timothy, as well as to protect him from harm as far as he is able and to take care of him. He did intone that all of this would only begin once the two of them were married, however. So Timothy will be as safe as is possible right now, if he marries Phantom.

"Phantom also advised me not to make this worse for Timothy. I fear we have reached the end of his patience with our meddling, and any attempts we undertake to help will only worsen the situation. If we want to do something, it has to be with one decisive blow that we know will work. Therefor, I think that we should not keep fighting at all for now. The time left until the wedding is simply not enough to prepare. We shall save Timothy after the marriage has been finalised."

There was a beat of silence as all of them were either too stunned or too thoughtful to say anything. Then, Jason looked Damian up and down through narrowed eyes. "And you think he will keep to that? Y'think we can trust that promise?"

Damian scoffed. "He made an oath upon his honour. I do not trust him, and he knows as much. But take it from someone who has, also, been raised in a nation of warriors: We can trust that he values his honour highly enough not to break this oath. So while we may not let our guard down, trust that he will not break this promise."

"Still," Steph said slowly, also looking at Damian through wearily narrowed eyes, "it is strange that you, of all people, would abandon a battle. Even if it is to win the war in the end, pardon the metaphor…"

Damian looked quite offended at that. "You keep underestimating me, Brown. I have not only been trained in the art of the sword and torture, but also in stealth, psychological warfare and strategy. You know this. I do not understand how or why you remain forgetful of it still."

Steph nodded, relaxing a bit. "True, yeah… Probably because you don't use it much."

"Well, I do not have much usage of my assassination skills anymore either, do I? But that doesn't mean I would allow them to become dull." That… was a concerning bit of information. And hopefully not a problem for future Tim to worry about. It was also a good point, however, so Tim decided to focus on that instead.

"Right," he said, finally managing to speak without a waver to his voice again, "He has a point, so can we stop implying he has been placed under some spell?"

Tim could see in Bruce's eyes as he nodded that he would still insist on running test later, just to make sure. He figured by the way Dick and Steph looked at B that they only nodded because they also saw it. Jason, on the other hand, only shrugged. "I didn't think he was anyways.Laying low and striking once they're most vulnerable? Seems pretty par for the course to me."

Tim sighed, deciding not to deal with this. "Okay. So we all agree not to do anything drastic again, at least until the wedding?" He got a few nods, all of which were disgruntled, and a couple annoyed sounding verbal affirmations. Damian was the only one who gave a decisive nod, and Jason gave a shrug like he didn't care. Tim saw his confirmation in his eyes, though, so that was enough for him. Nodding, too, Tim stood. "Wonderful. I'll leave you to your scheming, then, I need to be somewhere alone so I can scream in a pillow. Since, you know, I just found out the number of suicidal help attempts from my brothers has doubled yesterday."

Tim turned on his heel and left without another word. Once he was alone in the hallway, he leaned against a wall, took a deep breath and slowly allowed himself to fall to the floor.

He was so drained emotionally after this - and it was only just barely morning. An unfortunate similarity to most days since Danny's letter had crossed their border. Why did this have to keep happening to him? And, more importantly, would this be what the rest of his life looked like?

Chapter Text

"We'll need to have them arrange our weapons before we arrive, too." Dan took a moment to think about it again. He didn't like the idea, and he knew none of his subordinates would like it either, but… Well, the time would be too short once they were back. So he sighed. "Tell your brother to do it. River will know what to look out for."

"I see…" Frowning, Iver gave a curt nod. He didn't seem happy with that but Dan guessed that was to be expected. The two of them were alone right now and Dan had to give him orders. The young warrior had always avoided Dan or done little things that could be called disrespectful, but ever since the duel it was even more apparent how little he liked Dan. After all, he even treated Prince Jason with higher respect than his literal superior. It stung.

Dan just hoped this wouldn't cause any issues down the line…

Ignoring it for now, Dan nodded back and continued: "I want you to go into town and take a look around, too. There's a good few blacksmiths here, and Danny seemed impressed by the skill level he saw. We'll need good weapons, and as many as we can get. If you see any you think we should take with us for the raid, ask them to put it back and I'll go pay for them tomorrow. We'll need swords and arrows the most, so concentrate on that."

"Sure."

"And I need your opinion on something…" Dan stoped walking, turning around to face Iver. "Elle said we should expect a lot of airborne monsters this wave. Now, I was thinking on deploying more mages this time, to make up for the hight difference. But mages are more sensitive to the magic in the air, and we could loose some of them to the ambient vile magic in the air."

Iver's eyes darkened. "Then don't." Taken aback by the sudden hostility, Dan only blinked at the other warrior. He usually hid his feelings better than this, didn't show it so openly. But Iver apparently took the surprise to mean Dan hadn't expected his answer, because he shook his head. "Just because a risk may pay off it's not always worth taking, sir. The mages are our brothers in arms just like the rest of them. And if you're thinking about endangering their sanity so casually when we could just focus on long range weapons instead, then, respectfully, that makes me wonder what the ambient vile magic did to your sanity. Sir."

Ouch.

Actually, you know what? Fuck ignoring it. Right now they happened to be next to a library that had always been empty when Dan passed it so far, so he threw open the doors and pulled Iver inside. He quickly glanced around and, not seeing anyone else, closed the door behind him. This wasn't for the ears of some random passerby, after all.

"Alright, Rain," Dan started, crossing his arms, "What is your problem? You and I, we used to work together just fine when we first met. And now I find you questioning everything I do at every turn, and you keep disrespecting me whenever you can. Why?" No answer came, Iver only crossed his arms and glared at Dan defiantly. So Dan continued: "Is this about me becoming head of the army? Because you know I earned that title. I worked for it, I proved my powers and I never even thought about using my connection to Danny to get there. So what is it?"

There was another beat of silence before Iver released a deep breath and loosened his arms. "No one doubts that you are a capable warrior. How could we? Your strength is almost unrivalled. People look up to you and want to follow you. We all know that's the reason you reached that position."

"Then I really don't know what made you hate me this much. I know it has been some years since we met, so I really can't imagine what I did to you to deserve all of… this." Dan gestured to Iver's face that was still set into a frown, his glare, his general posture.

Again, the younger man sighed. "I have no intention to speak about it. So don't worry, I won't be blabbing my mouth off to anyone."

"That's not it," Dan shook his head, frowning as well. "I know there's a reason for it, you wouldn't be like this without one. So if you want to treat me rudely for it, you can at least tell me what all of this is about."

Another glare, then a defeated sigh. "And I may be honest with you right now?"

Dan nodded. "Of course."

Iver nodded back. "Then, it's because I learned what you did and who you actually are - what you are. Honestly, I can hardly fathom why Lord Phantom would keep you this close. I don't know why he and the rest of his clan accept and even trust you after everything, but I do know that it'll hurt them in the end, one way or another. And I refuse to be someone who ignores your past just to feel guilty when it catches up to all of us."

"You're not a part of our family, let alone our clan. So you don't have any right to interfere," Dan warned him, doing his best to keep standing tall in front of the accusations. He had expected something like this.

"I don't. And I'm not trying to." Iver stepped closer, fists balled and eyes angry. "I follow my orders and I do my job, and this is the first and last time I will ever speak of my feelings. But you can't honestly expect that I'd respect you, considering where you came from. I don't trust you, I don't respect you and I especially don't like you. I never will."

"I'm loyal to my brother. I've proven that over and over and over again. I'd never hurt him, even if I hadn't drunken his mana. Which I did." He, too, stepped closer to the other warrior. "Rain, I've sworn myself to him."

But Iver just scoffed. "Forgive me, but that doesn't mean much. You couldn't even keep your chosen name, why would I believe you could keep your honour? You've made your choices and you've shown who you really are under that domesticated mask."

"I'm not the same boy I was then," Dan willed his fellow warrior to understand. He knew it was a lost cause, but a teeny tiny part of him still hoped. "I changed. Danny changed me. I am not a mindless monster anymore."

Iver finally stepped back again. "Maybe he did. You're a strong warrior, at least. Like I said: People respect you. I don't know why, but they do. But, Sir Dantrey, I find it hard to believe that a monster like that can become a good man so quickly. Your past is set in stone, and you can't run from it. I refuse to just ignore that fact. Maybe you shouldn't either."

"Fine," Dan said, refusing to let the heavy feeling in his chest show in his voice, "As long as it won't show in battle and as long as you can still follow orders. And Rain? It's Lord Dantrey to you." Iver scoffed but didn't refuse it. "Now go, you have your orders."

Nodding once, Iver left the library. He didn't close the door behind himself.

He waited for a moment, until the steps grew quiet. Then, and only then, he allowed himself to fall into one of the chairs closest to him. Looking at his hands, both of which would always be stained red no matter how clean they looked, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. Tears sprung up and for a moment he allowed himself to be vulnerable and let them fall. He'd wipe away the evidence in a little bit.

Shit. He'd known this was what it'd turn out like. He knew that the chances of convincing Iver so quickly, with nothing but his words, were incredibly small. But being confronted with that truth…

"Shit…" Pressing his heals against his eyes, Dan tried to get himself back under control. He'd done so much. He'd proven himself so many different ways. What the hell else was he supposed to even do?

Suddenly, a sneeze cut through the silent air of the library. Shocked, Dan jumped up and turned around. Nothing happened for a moment. But he knew what he'd heard…

Slowly, carefully, Dan crept around the shelf to his left. And when he turned it he saw-

"Your highness?" Surprised but much less tense, Dan took in the prince of Gotham who sat curled up with a book on the windowsill. The other winced, looking incredibly awkward.

"Uhm… I- I wasn't trying to… I mean. I was going to say something, but you were already in the middle of your conversation and, well, it felt, uhm."

Heh. Cute.

Jason wasn't really sure how it had ended up like this. All he had wanted to do was forget about everything that had happened these last few days by reading a good book. Just a moment or two where he didn't have to deal with his own problems and could deal with those of a fictional character instead.

And then the door had opened and the reason for all his worries had stepped in.

Jason had wanted to say something, he really did. For once in his life he hadn't intended to spy. But then the guard that Phantom had send as their watchdog last time had followed through and, well… Okay, so maybe that had changed. But! It didn't even matter if it did because before he could even think about his next move the two of them had started to talk about something very obviously very private. And Jason really, really did not want to be accused of spying.

He'd almost succeeded in hiding, too. He'd held his breath and listened and not moved a single muscle. And then he'd had to sneeze, of all things.

So now, through no fault of his own, it looked as though he'd been spying on purpose. Which sucked, because he had only just gotten out of one dangerously close call with their "visitors" so he really didn't know why he had to go through another one of those now. And when he hadn't even done anything for once, too!

"Uhm… I-" What even did you say to something like this? "I wasn't trying to…" No, that just made him sound even more guilty. Shit, shit, shit, shit! "I mean. I was going to say something, but you were already in the middle of your conversation and, well, it felt, uhm."

Lord Dantrey - who, for some reason, seemed very adamant about the Lord part of that, even to his own people - had the audacity to chuckle at Jason's nerves. Asshole. But, well, an asshole who apparently didn't think Jason to be guilty, at least?

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your reading, your highness," he said. But instead of leaving, like Jason very much wanted him to, the other man simply sat down in one of the armchairs near him. Great. "I assume you heard all that?"

Ah. An interrogation, then. Alright, that Jason could do. He nodded once. "It wasn't my intention, but I couldn't help it. Considering the proximity and everything."

Lord Dantrey nodded back, sighing as he leaned backwards in his chair. One hand reached up to run through his white hair, which ripped a few strands of hair from his intricate braiding. "Please don't think too badly of him," the High Chief's brother whispered into the space between them, "He's a capable warrior, and a loyal soul. He admires my brother, follows through on his assignments dutifully and he is a reliable ally to have in battle. He will be a good asset to your brother, too, judging by the way he already looks at him."

The words gave Jason pause. The entire time that he'd listened to them, the guard had been nothing short of rude to Lord Dantrey, who was clearly his superior. He'd all but insulted the man to his face and said things Jason would have seen Dick go off on their guards for. Yet here Lord Dantrey was, singing his praises to Jason.

"What is his problem anyways?" Jason heard himself ask before he could think it through.

The smile he saw on Lord Dantrey was one he was intimately familiar with. That sad, defeated smile. He'd worn it a lot when he'd first become a prince of Gotham, too. It was the smile of someone who was being treated unfairly and thought that it just couldn't be helped.

"There's four different political factions right now, in the Lands," he said, clearly not answering Jason, "A very small, dwindling faction that still supports the old High Chief and thinks we should wage a war. A faction that, for some reason, thinks I should be in charge, seeing as I was born in the Lands and am old enough to rule. A slightly larger faction that supports our sister, who would admittedly make a great High Chief if she would ever want that. And the largest faction, which supports Danny and only him." Lord Dantrey ticked all of them off on his fingers as he counted them out.

"Once the war ended, Pariah Dark's faction was mostly subdued. They didn't dare act out, at least. But the other three kept arguing. No matter what we did, all they could agree on was that our clan should be in charge. But they were all very opinionated about us. Especially when it came to me. Those who didn't support me didn't think I should be part of my family's clan at all, much less be allowed to advise Danny." He sighed deeply at that part, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. "Anyways, in an attempt to unite those three factions, our sister and I abdicated from our claims to the throne. It was clumsy and not at all how it should be done, but in the end it served its purpose. It's shaky, it's far from ideal, but now those three factions support Danny's reign." He moved his index and ring finger towards his middle one.

"And Rein? Well, he belongs to Danny's faction. Adamantly. He… He wants to protect Danny. And he thinks I might be a danger he'll need protecting from."

Ah. But… Hold up. Thinking back to their interactions and how Phantom had been handling Lord Dantrey at dinner, something wasn't adding up here. "Why would he think that?"

Lord Dantrey frowned, and Jason feared he might have overstepped. But to his relief, the man only sighed again. "That would be because of the… circumstances of my birth."

And if that wasn't a familiar topic. But still. "You said you were born in the Infinite Lands, right? Is that… something special?"

"It's different from Danny, at least." Lord Dantrey seemed to think about it for a while, then looked Jason right in the eyes. If he noticed how Jason startled, he didn't mention it. "Do you know what a shadowborn is, your highness?"

No. He never heard of that before, ever. And it must've shown on his face, too, because Lord Dantrey smiled, looking somewhat bemused.

"There's natureborn and neverborn in the Infinite Lands. Danny is a natureborn, Elle and I are neverborn. Neverborn basically means that we were born though magic, and not through a pregnancy as you would be used to. Many in the Infinite Lands think it's much cleaner and promises much greater fortune to be neverborn. But usually, by that they only mean the coreborn. That's when one parent makes an egg with magic and the other parent fertilises it with their magic. It's a whole thing, and the thing that Danny and your brother will do. Elle is a coreborn, too."

"And you ain't," Jason surmised.

Lord Dantrey nodded. "I'm a shadowborn. The other type of neverborn. And not a type of being everyone thinks of as human, either. There's some… physical differences. We can't receive blessings from the Ancients, for one. We are much more finely attuned to magic. Our senses are better. We heal better, and our bodies are stronger, more durable. Things like that. Some psychological shit, too, but I don't really know about all that. But the thing that really creeps them out, that they judge us for, that's why we are born."

Ah. So Jason had never even had a chance to begin with in their dual, huh? Good to know. It had felt like he was fighting some superhuman creature, nice to know he wasn't entirely off. But he still didn't understand. Wasn't all of that good? Well, except the thing with the blessings, he guessed. That must've sucked, especially with what little they knew about their culture.

Fortunately, Lord Dantrey continued: "You see, there's a lot of ambient magic in the Infinite Lands. It's everywhere, from the air to the water to the soil. Something like that brings its own consequences. And one of those consequences are the shadowborn. Because sometimes, magic can take in the emotion around itself. And sometimes, if there's enough emotion, creatures form. Shades, for example. Or blobs. But… If all the emotion comes from one person, and it's something painful, and somewhere where a lot of magic just so happens to be around, then sometimes a shadowborn is born instead.

"No one knows how or why, really, but it happens. The birth of a new person. They look like the person whose emotion they took in. They talk like them. They'll even have their memories. If the original has a blessing, they can even recreate that with unique magic spells. But the shadowborn is not like the original. The only emotions they can feel in the beginning are the ones they were fed. They hate the world and their original when they are born. Usually, they have this drive to kill their original and take over their life, and most of the time they are destructive in doing so." Lord Dantrey exhaled shakily. "It's not impossible for them to learn to feel more, or how to live a normal life. But it rarely happens. They're usually dangerous and consumed by their hate. More often than not, they have to be killed in order to protect the original and their family."

An Echo. Lord Dantrey was talking about an Echo. Jason had heard the horror stories, being born in a border city right at the edge of the Infinite Lands. But… He'd always thought that was all there was to it. Just another tale of the Infinite Lands and why you had to say far, far away from it.

Apparently not.

Then… What else was real? Did Jason even want to know?

When Jason was too quiet for too long, Lord Dantrey sighed a third time. "My first memory is walking through a forest. I remember that I had to fight my way through there. It was deeply infested by monsters, you know? Almost everything was faster, more dangerous and way bigger than I was. I survived off of dirty water, berries, luck and anger the first few weeks. And then I was hit hard enough to keep me down for a while, head right in a puddle. I ended up drinking a bit of that, too. Turns out that was some blood. And not just any blood, but blood from the Ancient Clockwork no less! It… aged me up a bit. By like three years, maybe? Not much, really, but considering I started out with the body of a nine-year-old it made a big difference."

Lord Dantrey shrugged. "Anyways, long story short: I survived, and four years or so later Danny found me. Kept me in a cell for everyone's safety, and he refused to give up on me no matter what. Took a while, but by the time I'd lived five years he'd managed to teach me how to be more than that. So I joined him, and now here we are."

I find it hard to believe that a monster like that can become a good man so quickly. Those words made a lot of sense now. Jason had barely heard Lord Dantrey's tale of his own past.

An Echo. Shit. And, shit, he was reacting the same way those noble who called him a street rat or a gold digging beggar did. But… an Echo!

"What could have happened to a nine year old child that would create an Echo…?"

Lord Dantrey seemed to have heard Jason's whispered question, judging by the way his face darkened. "My brother lost everything. He'd been captured and barely survived. And when he'd clawed his way back home, he was denied entry because they just wouldn't believe it was him. And then, after a month of running around aimlessly without a home, hoping his parents would see reason, he found out he'd lost his entire clan to an enemy trap. Everyone he loved was either dead or missing and presumed dead. And the town he grew up in blamed him for it."

Ah. Yes, that would do it. Jason wasn't sure what he could even say to that. "That's horrible."

Lord Dantrey nodded. "It is. And because I was born from something so horrible, not everyone is ready to accept that I'm more man than monster - especially considering how I spend the time until Danny found me."

Jason knew he shouldn't ask. He really shouldn't. But Lord Dantrey was talking about it himself. He seemed to want to talk about it. And Jason was curious.

"…What did you do in the meantime?"

Lord Dantrey winced. "I… When I finally made it out of that forest, Pariah found me. He saw me as useful, asked me to join him. He got a strong weapon out of it, and I had a focus for my anger and hate. So I was mostly fine with that. I… did some things I'm not proud of now. That's why I abandoned my chosen name, too."

"What does that even mean?" Oh. Had he asked that out loud?

Lord Dantrey nodded. "Once your chosen name is set, you don't get to change it again, remember? But you can always abandon a name. No one gets to call me by my chosen name anymore, and no one gets to tell me I'm the same person I was then. But it also means every time I introduce myself to anyone, every time people talk to me I get reminded that I don't have a chosen name anymore. It's… kind of hard to explain. But basically, I get to distance myself from who I was then but in exchange there's a stain on my honour that I'll never be able to get rid of."

And honour was a very important thing to the barbarians of the north. You couldn't even keep your chosen name, why would I believe you could keep your honour, huh? Half of what Rain had said only made sense now. As well as why Lord Dantrey had sounded almost desperate to be believed when he insisted he'd changed.

Fucking asshole.

"…People often call me a gold digger," Jason admitted softly, putting his book to the side. "No matter what I do, they'll always see the street rat that tried to steal from their king. They don't think he should've spared me for that one, even if I was a child just trying to survive the next day. They like that he made me his son even less. B got a lot of shit for that, you know? After all, I was just a homeless war orphan at the time with nothing to my name. I wasn't a particularly good fighter before he took me in, I couldn't read or calculate, and differently from my older brother I don't even have a blessed bloodline. It's been years, I'm a knight in my own right and I teach young nobles when they have trouble with their studies. But the nobles of Gotham still see nothing more than an uneducated, greedy thief when they look at me."

For a moment, Lord Dantrey looked at Jason in confused surprise. Then, gave the same sad smile from before. Jason hated that smile. He hated it on himself, and he even hated it on someone like Lord Dantrey.

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"It does," Jason nodded, "But do you know what I do when they act like that?" Lord Dantrey shook his head. "I give 'em hell."

He blinked. Once, twice. Then, Lord Dantrey looked at Jason like he'd hung the stars. And the laugh that he let out? Well, Jason might just like that. It might make it seem like Lord Dantrey, whom Jason was surer now than ever was the feared Commander Shadow, actually wasn't even all that bad.

Chapter Text

"Tea?"

Danny carefully placed down the cloak he was working on, aching hands happy for the reprise from touching the phoenix's feathers. He softly guided even more of his magic towards his hands to speed up the healing process until all that was left was some aching scars.

Sometimes, Danny really loathed what had become of him. Was it weird to get homesick for shivering in the cold, or to resent his hands for burning at the slightest contact to magical warmth?

"Yes, tea," the guard casually lounging in his room nodded. Disinterestedly, she observed her long nails, closer to claws than anything else. "He said he'd like for you to join him. Something this, something that, something about getting to know each other? I'm not sure, can't say I was really listening."

Sighing, Danny pulled his gloves back on and stood. "You are talking about my betrothed there," he reminded her. When all he got was a shrug, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That means he is your future High Lord. Show him some respect."

She scoffed, even had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Maybe I'll respect him if he can win a duel. Let's be honest here, the spoilt little princeling won't last a week at home. As a matter of fact, I'd be surprised if he won't run before the marriage." Red eyes were raised with a condescending smirk, a quick glance up and down Danny's form before another scoff cut through the slowly rising tension. "A good match for you, I guess."

Scowling, Danny took a dangerous step closer to her. "You dare call him a coward? You dare question my strength, too?"

"I dare," she nodded, a mocking laugh making it past blood red lips, "I dare very much. You don't make it hard to, after all, do you? Making the Head of the Army fight your battles for you and taking on all the glory… Shameless! Really, the wrong brother came under the crown."

"Dan did not want to inherit the crown," Danny said, not adding the neither did I on the tip on his tongue, "And it was me who bested Pariah Dark in combat. Twice. Alone. So if you feel so unsure of my capabilities, I will be more than happy to meet you in a duel and show you just why I remain unchallenged in my position."

Just like he'd expected, she cowed at that. In fact, she even bowed her head in deference to him, harshly spitting out a quick apology they both knew she didn't mean.

"You're dismissed," Danny informed her with a wave of the hand. Enraged, the guard stormed out. Once she'd left, he only felt tired. Just a couple of weeks away from the wedding, and they were stuck in an unfamiliar land with four guards, one of whom hated Dan for what he was and one of whom hated Danny for not passing his crown on to Dan. Dealing with the factions was exhausting at the best of times, but right now he really didn't have the nerve for it.

Danny should really have a talk with Frighty about the loyalties of his guards…

Regardless of all that, though, Danny's fiancé had invited him to have tea together. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what he'd feared: the guard had waited until the last moment to pass the message. He had no time to change, it was only about five minutes until afternoon tea would be served.

Sighing at the petty antics, he got up and quickly checked in the mirror. He was wearing something comfortable, nothing like what he would wear if he had known to change. But it looked decent enough. All he could do in the time he had left was to straighten his hair with his fingers quickly, undoing the worst of the tangles. Then he was off.

It was the first time his highness had asked him to meet first, Danny realised as he made his way through the corridors of the castle. He chose to believe this was a good sign. That the prince was starting to warm up to Danny, just like Danny had noticed himself doing. It would be nice, really, if the tentative, warm feelings Danny was starting to feel for the Gothamite would turn out to not be as one-sided as Danny feared.

He'd asked his sister about the prince. In her letter, she had answered with all the stories and rumours she'd heard about him during her travels. And apparently the prince was well known not only for being a capable warrior and gifted strategist, but also for being a great detective and well-informed on many a topic. But there were stories of his smiles, too. Of how he hid behind them, of how he made people feel safe just to use all their interactions to punish them for their crimes.

Oh, he was just in all those stories. Just, curious and loyal. A steadfast power Gotham knew they could rely on. But… Since this marriage benefitted Gotham, how much of his smiles were just a farce this time?

Danny had noticed over time that not all the prince's smiles looked real. However, he hoped… Well. He hoped.

So when he knocked on the prince's chamber doors, he choose to keep doing that. Doubt would only poison his mind, he knew. So Danny decided he would keep remaining positive, would keep trusting that this would work. He decided to keep seeing those smiles as a sign of good faith and keep believing it to mean the two of them were both working towards establishing trust and maybe even love with each other.

That, too, would benefit Gotham after all, right? So even if his first priority was and always would be his home, maybe Danny could become another priority for the prince. He prayed in his mind for Clockwork to make it so.

The door opened, and it revealed the prince in question. He wore the same gently smile that Danny had just thought about, and a casual outfit. Though it was fashioned from silks much finer than anything Danny could afford, the make was obviously meant for comfort over style. It made him much more comfortable in his own garments, fortunately. So he wasn't too underdressed, then. Good.

Though he had to admit, even dressed down Prince Timothy looked much better than Danny did. The red of his shirt made the blue of his eyes shine even more in contrast, and the pants showed off the young man's long legs just right. He looked so soft today, so vivid. And, differently to Danny who was usually either clumsy or fighting at any time, even his movements looked fluid, strong and graceful. Like a panther, he thought to himself.

"You came!" his highness smiled at Danny, bright and beautiful.

"Of course I did," Danny smiled back, "You asked me to."

The prince laughed a bit as he stepped away from the door and made a gesture for Danny to enter. "If the nobles of Gotham knew that was all it took to summon the feared High Chief of the Infinite Lands, they would be appealed by how easy it is."

Was that… a joke? Huh. Danny stumbled where he was halfway to the table the prince had set for him, turning around to look at the prince in shook. And, well, something had changed in his eyes. Danny wasn't sure what, but the prince was looking at Danny differently from before. He chose to believe it was a positive change. It at least made the prince look much more human, more gentle.

"Let them try, then. But last I checked there was only one person with that type of power at his finger tips," Danny teased back, smiling a somewhat wolfish grin. Feeling bold, he winked at the prince. "I only have one fiancé, after all."

Prince Timothy's smile deepened as he walked past Danny to the table and sat down. Tilting his head back, he waited for Danny to do the same. And he did, feeling like a moth drawn to the light.

In one graceful, fluid motion, the prince took the cup in front of him and gently placed it at his lips. "Perhaps I'm a bit late asking this," prince Timothy idly mentioned as he set his cup down to prepare one for Danny. Glancing up through his lashes from where he was adding sugar to his cup, he asked: "But how are you finding Gotham? It must be very different from what you're used to… I hope you like the country?"

Was Danny blushing? He felt like he was blushing. What was the question again? Ah, right. "It's nice," Danny confirmed, "The people seem happy, which is always a good sign. It speaks of a kind ruler, I'm sure. And the people have been nothing short of kind at any point in time. And the craftsmanship here… It's starting to make me jealous, really."

Prince Timothy hummed. "Oh, come now. There has to be something that you don't like at least, right? I can't imagine you like everything here."

When he passed Danny his cup, their hands touched slightly. And what was with his reaction? What was up with Danny today? He was acting weird, wasn't he? Was this because he was in a closed room alone with his fiancé the first time since they got engaged? Wait. Ancients, how was he only now noticing that? And why were they alone anyways? Where was all the staff?

Clearing his throat, Danny did his best to remember what the question had been. "Well…"

When he didn't say anything - not that he could, he still didn't remember the question - Prince Timothy chuckled softly. "Go ahead. I promise I won't take offence."

Offence? Why would he- Ah, right. Okay, Danny could do this. To clear his head, he took a sip from the tea. It was a nice, rich aroma. Though Danny would've probably added more sugar to it. Would it be rude to do that? Well, he didn't need more than he had right now.

"The food," he finally answered, looking at the cup in his hands. "It's not bad, but it's very different to what I'm used to. I miss the taste of my home." And the food here reminded him of Amity and his parents, but he didn't need to mention that.

Surprised, Prince Timothy blinked at him. "The food? Is it that different?"

Danny nodded, feeling somewhat more steady now that he was back to talking about his home. He loved doing that, after all. "Yes, quite. There's a lot of magic in the ground, and it gives a bitter taste to most foods. So our dishes are much more seasoned, either very spicy or very sweet. And cooking tends to be a big deal that isn't done all too often but in a large group instead. We usually prepare meals with the entire clan, and then we eat it bit by bit."

"You cook together?" Prince Timothy's eyes shone bright with barely concealed interest. "Does that mean you cook yourself, too?"

Danny nodded. "Of course! Providing for the clan is one of the most important jobs of a clan leader. I hunt most of the game me and my family eat myself, and I make sure we make dishes everyone will enjoy. Which basically means I'm responsible for meal planing. And, well… Elle doesn't let me close to the seasonings, if I'm being honest." He couldn't help the chuckle at the memory of when he last tried to add some thyme to the meat. Elle had almost thrown him out of the kitchen, she'd been so scared for the food. "I'm not very good at that. She says if I touch the seasonings, then everything will turn out tasting like chilli peppers and nothing else. She's good at it, though. There's a surprising amount of different types of spicy. And Dan has a hand for mixing stuff. He always knows how much of anything to add so that it's well balanced. So it's a group effort, really."

The prince hummed again. "So you don't eat a lot of fresh produce, I take it?"

Danny shook his head. "No, not really. Our dishes are made to keep us sated for long and to provide us with as much nutrients as possible. There's a lot of protein in most of it, too, even the vegetarian dishes. So you don't need to eat a lot of it, and not so often. But we do add a handful of fresh berries or sugared fruit as a side dish when we can." Thinking about it for a moment, Danny shrugged. "I think I'll miss the salads once we're back. They don't really fill you much, but they taste good and make you feel refreshed. But with the vegetables grown in the Lands, they wouldn't taste very good."

"Then… Have you had a fruit salat yet, Danny?" When he shook his head, the Prince smiled even more brightly. "You should ask Alfred to prepare one. It's fresh and sweet, really the perfect treat for summer. I think you'll enjoy it."

Taking another sip from his cup, Danny found he didn't even mind the bitter aftertaste anymore. "I'll take your word for it, then."

What had Tim even been doing these last few days? Sitting around and moping, being scared and avoiding his problems. That wasn't how he had been raised, gods damn it! His mother would've been ashamed if she could see him now.

So now that they had… agreed not to do anything rash to avoid the marriage anymore, Tim had arrived at a decision: He would do what he'd been trained to do. He would make Danny fall for him, and he would use those feelings for his family and for his own position.

He was already falling for the High Chief, after all. The least the man could do was follow suit. Or, if Tim was smart about this, he could fall even harder than Tim currently was.

That's why he changed after he got back from breakfast. He took great care to make his outfit look casual and random, but he took even greater care to accentuate the pretty features he had gotten from his mother. For the first time since just after he'd arrived at the castle, Tim was even wearing a little bit of make-up.

Nothing fancy, he knew that would've been noticed. Just a dust of red on his lips to make them look more appealing, some barely-there powdered pigment around his eyes to make them pop. Things like that.

Feeling bold today, he'd found one of the guards Danny had arrived with - a young woman that looked bored most of the time - and asked her to extend an offer for tea to Danny. He'd prepared everything carefully, and then he'd waited. And it had worked, even: Before he could question too much what he should do if Danny just didn't show up, seeing as he hadn't send word back, there'd been a knock on the door.

So far, the High Chief had reacted positively when Tim appeared happy and he'd seemed glad when Tim asked about the Infinite Lands. So that's what he did. Even as his mouth felt dry when he teased the High Chief and his head was screaming at him that he was being rude as he kept questioning Danny, he did that. With his voice intentionally bright and his movements aimed to steer Danny's gaze where Tim wanted it, he did that.

And as time went on, Tim's smile even started to feel more and more real. His interest was more and more genuine as his nerves ebbed away, too. After all, so far it seemed to be working.

Danny was blushing a lot today, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy himself and the slight banter between them. It had been hours now, and he was still giving Tim all his attention. It would've made Tim preen, if it wasn't so scary whose attention he was succeeding in capturing.

"No, really," Danny chuckled into his cup, a fond look on his face, "He didn't even look at me. He just put a cup of goat milk in front of me and kept writing. I still don't know where he got it."

It would have been a cute story, Tim supposed, if the story in question didn't retell how Danny had been served a dish called sunbroth for the first time by an Ancient he'd sought amnesty from as a child. It was a bit dizzying, really, how casually Danny spoke about one of their gods. And the implications that held as to his relationship with the Ancients. Or maybe just this Ancient in question.

It would explain why Clockwork was arguing with one of his fellow Ancients just who was Danny's protector, wouldn't it?

After a moment of silence, something suddenly shifted in Danny. Much more serious now, he carefully placed down his cup. "Actually, your highness… I was thinking about something."

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. Hiding the unsure twitch of his lips behind a sip, Tim gave a nod for Danny to continue.

"I was… Before that, you should know that your youngest brother and I talked last night. He came to me with some concerns."

Ah. Well, Tim should have expected that this wouldn't be left uncommented. Carefully, he nodded. "Damian, yes. He mentioned this morning. I meant to apologise for his brash behaviour, but I fear it slipped my mind with how much I was enjoying our conversations…"

Seemingly accepting that, Danny nodded. "I didn't bring it up because I wanted an apology. In fact, I was more than happy to answer his questions. However, there was something he said that stuck with me. I wanted to make sure we're on the same page, is all."

Oh no. Damian, what did you say? Still smiling, Tim carefully set his cup aside as well. Gently, he folded his hands in his lap where it would still look graceful but their tremble would be hidden. "Oh? What could he have said to worry you so?"

Danny folded his hands and leaned against the table between them. Glowing green eyes met Tim's ordinary human ones. "He mentioned that you might not want to marry me."

Oh no.

"Now, your brother also admitted that you had not directly said so. So I told him you could come to me yourself if this should be true. But I fear if he was right, you might not feel it's appropriate to do so, considering how far we've progressed by now. That's why I wanted to make sure: Do you actually want to be betrothed to me?"

Considering the alternatives Tim had? That was an easy answer. "Of course I do."

"You're sure?" Strangely enough, Danny waited for Tim to nod before he leaned back. The serious expression on his face did not change, however. "Alright. But I want you to know that you are free to change your mind. So if at any point until the marriage you should reconsider and decide that you do not want this, then all you have to do is tell me. I won't ever force you."

No, he would just abandon everything Tim was buying for the low, low price of his hand in marriage. Since they would have no way to give Danny what he wanted.

Unless he meant that Danny wouldn't blackmail them into it, if Tim really felt he couldn't go through with this. But then again, was Tim stupid or brave enough to test that theory? Because something told him Danny would not admit he had ever done such a thing in the first place if he were to ask directly.

"Thank you for your concern," Tim said to Danny, face now serious to match the High Chief's expression, "But I am well aware of what I am doing here. I have been from the start. This is a marriage for peace, and I want that peace."

"Peace is still possible even without the marriage. It has been for the past five years, after all."

True. Just that it had been a shaky peace that had never been formalised. And after the threats Danny had brought with him this time, Tim doubted anyone could possibly feel safe with just that. They needed this, and Danny must've known it.

"Do you perhaps feel uncomfortable with me being your fiancé, Danny? Did I overstep somewhere, or do you not like me now that we know each other a bit better?" Tim was actually a bit scared of what it would mean for him if the answer was yes.

Fortunately, the High Chief shook his head and his hands in denial almost immediately. "No! No, it's nothing like that. You are a very kind man. And I like how curious you are, and how excited learning something new makes you. You're beautiful, too. I… I couldn't imagine how anyone could hate being engaged to you, your highness. It's just…" With a sigh, Danny combed his hand through his hair. Today, he wore it down. Tim wondered whether there was a special meaning to that, too. "I'm aware that all of this is very sudden, and having to leave Gotham behind cannot be easy for you. I want you to be sure in your decision, is all."

How sweet. If it had been a real decision and not just the illusion of one, Tim might have actually felt moved by Danny's consideration. This way, however, he only felt tired. It was obvious that Danny didn't really want to coerce Tim into this. Maybe he even felt guilty about it. But he had also made it abundantly clear that his loyalties were to the Infinite Lands and would remain there. So Tim didn't doubt he would do whatever it took to get what he deemed necessary. No matter how guilty he felt about it.

Maybe Tim would be able to use that guilt, however?

He found that he didn't really want to. He liked Danny, apart from the things he did because of his title. He didn't want to use the man's feelings against him, especially not when he had apparently let Tim know as a sign of trust. So he wouldn't do that.

Well, he thought as he sipped more from his tea, at least not unless necessary.

For now he would return to small talk with his betrothed. And if he was enjoying it a bit too honestly, no one had to know about that. Tim could absolutely break his own heart if he needed to. So who cared about the warm feelings festering like a disease in his chest?

Chapter Text

"I'm not sure… I never really had much reason to try it, you know? Being born in the middle of a war, then having to overthrow the government and then being needed by my brother to strengthen his reign didn't really mean I had much time to try something like that."

Truth be told, Jason was a little appalled at the thought. He could understand it, seeing as he'd been illiterate until Bruce had taken him in and taught him all the stuff the fancy elite needed to know. His life hadn't been all roses and sunshine either, so he got it. But… Lord Dantrey had all the access to books he wanted now! It'd been five years since the war. Surely he had enough free time to at least try reading something?

Again, though, he understood that it was a low priority. So he could forgive the man.

"I can't imagine my life without books," Jason admitted, shaking his head in sorrow for Lord Dantrey's sad, sad, book-less life, "I've always loved stories, really. And being able to read them whenever, without relying on someone telling them to me directly? It's heaven. I'd loathe to loose that, now that I have it. I'm aware it's a privilege. But it's one I'm very grateful for."

Lord Dantrey whistled lowly. "You make me want to pick up reading as a hobby myself with how highly you're talking about it."

Feeling a bit embarrassed about it now, Jason chuckled awkwardly. "But you have some kind of hobby at least, right? You've got to have one."

Now it was Lord Dantrey's turn to blush. "I… I like baking," he admitted softly, like it was some sort of secret, "Cooking is kind of a clan-thing in the Lands. And that's great! I love spending time with my family like that, providing for each other. But I think I like baking by myself even more. It's soothing. I like decorating them the best, even if I'm not that good at it. But I like how I can get lost in focusing on the details, and I like that I can make something sweet and pretty instead of, well, destroying something."

It was a weird picture. Lord Dantrey, the Head of the Army, brother of the High Chief, formerly known as the fearsome Commander Shadow, who had all but obliterated Jason during their duel - carefully arranging flower petals and frosting to create something pretty that he could bring to his siblings. Then again, it did fit the awkward man trying to make amends and learn how to be kind whom Jason was getting to know now. It suited Dan, the shadowborn brother of a young regent who was trying to prove to himself and the world that he had become someone worth the trust his brother had in him.

"And, also, I collect stuff sometimes," Lord Dantrey continued, before Jason was able to adjust his mental image of the man once again, "Ja- Uhm, I mean… Someone who knew Danny before I was born suggested it. She said it might help, and I guess it does. I was never sure what to collect, so it's mostly random stuff. Just, things that I liked. Pretty rocks, bird feathers, pressed flowers, a piece of nice cloth… Anything that made me smile, really. I keep them in a chest in my room, under the floor boards."

This person, Ja-something, must've been important. Lord Dantrey looked real fucking pale when he'd corrected himself. Only for a second, but long enough for Jason to catch on to it. Why was he so scared to talk about her? She must've been someone important, if even speaking of her could mean trouble. Should Jason pry into it more?

He probably should. He knew that. But… he didn't really want to, you know?

He'd been spending a lot more time with Lord Dantrey ever since they met in the library and Jason had realised their lives weren't actually all that different. They'd bonded, kinda. It was nice to know that the other man just got it. He understood how it felt to always be angry even when you knew that wasn't right, knew you didn't want to be. He understood what it was like to fight an uphill battle against your past and your reputation, and to do it only because you had to, for your family. He knew what it was like to look in the mirror and ask yourself whether your family was right, or whether you just believed them because you wanted to.

And even outside of those topics, Jason noticed that conversation flowed easily between them. Like, sure, they were both fucked up. And it showed in most of their conversation. But with Lord Dantrey, for once that didn't stop them from having a light hearted and fun conversation.

It wasn't fair that Jason was a prince of Gotham and Lord Dantrey a warrior and brother of the High Chief. It wasn't fair, because everything would be so much easier if they weren't essentially enemies. Because it was so easy to forget about that when he was talking to Lord Dantrey. And it made him feel so guilty when they weren't.

If things had stood differently, if their loyalties had been different, Jason might have even trusted Lord Dantrey.

"I used to hide food under my bed," Jason admitted instead, "I grew up in Crime Alley, and I lost my parents when I was still pretty young. Those years on the streets, they left its mark. And when Bruce took me in, I… I didn't really believe him, you know? How could I? I'd just tried to steal from the literal fucking king and he took me back to the capital and his castle. I was so sure he'd throw me in the dungeon any moment now, or that he'd get sick of trying to help the fucked up little orphan kid. He never did, but, y'know… So I stashed food, just to be safe. And after like a month or two Dick found out 'bout it. After that he smuggled me stuff he thought I'd like into my stash. Books, bookmarks made from fancy paper, sugary treats, a soft blanket. He kept it up until I… disappeared." There was a beat of silence, before Jason softly, quietly admitted: "The food's long gone, of course, but I kept the rest. Makes me feel loved sometimes, when I get stuck in my head."

And Lord Dantrey didn't judge him for it. Didn't tease him. Only nodded and looked up into the cloudy sky above them in thought. "When I just learned what it was like to care about someone," he started hesitantly, as though he expected Jason to get angry about him for that or to recoil. Jason got why he would, but Jason also wouldn't do that to him. Something relaxed in Lord Dantrey when he got the memo. "Back then, Danny I should keep stuff I want to remember close to the chest. Moment that made me happy. I told him I wasn't sure I could remember them for long, between the bouts of hate and anger I still had. So he gave me a memory stone. Do you know what that is?"

No. Jason had never heard of that before. But seeing who this was coming from, he could take a guess. "Is that some kind of magic device?"

Lord Dantrey nodded. Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out a… necklace? It was a soft blue stone, almost see-through but just too milky to actually be. Like sanded glass, almost. Not really, but close. The stone hung in a silver case, welded to make sure it couldn't fall out but intricate enough to make sure it didn't obscure any more than necessary of the stone, and was hung from a braided leather cord.

"It's a stone that stores memories. Like a picture, but with sounds and they shift. It's… hard to explain. Anyways, he got me a couple of those. Even though they're had to make and ridiculously expensive. This one here holds the moment of when he first called me his brother in front of others. I always keep it with me." Lord Dantrey grinned. "Close to the chest, just like he said."

Jason was curious, because that sounded freaking awesome. But at the same time he felt like he shouldn't ask to see such an intimate moment. Even though he was incredibly curious.

Bur for some reason, Lord Dantrey didn't even need to be asked. Taking a deep breath, after barely a moment of hesitation, he raised the stone and blew on it, hands glowing softly with magic. It lit up for a moment, and then something strange happened.

It looked like a thousand glowing pieces of dust settled in the air, taking on colours to show a picture. A much younger Phantom stood on a table in front of a small crowd. He was wearing a tunic rather than the leathers Jason was used to seeing him in. His eyes were still that green Jason only associated with pain and anger, his hair still that unnatural shade of pure white. But it was much shorter, barely long enough to be pulled into a ponytail. The paint on his face wasn't glowy-blue either, it was the same blood red that Jason had seen on Lord Dantrey and the guards. The colours of a warrior, he remembered. The young boy - he looked about twelve, maybe, definitely couldn't even be fourteen yet - glared at the crowd in front of him with a frown on his lips.

Behind him, not on the table but definitely belonging to him, stood three figures. A young boy covered by a red hood with skin as dark as Duke's and a girl with short black hair and a purple dress, like the ones Steph sometimes wore. The kind that was fit for combat but meant to make the enemy underestimate her. Both of them were about as young ad Phantom in the hovering picture before them.

But the third figure was a way younger girl. Ten, maybe. At most. She was wearing the same markings as Lord Dantrey and High Chief Phantom, but hers were a deep blue Jason didn't know the meaning of. She was clad in a tunic similar to Phantom's, with the same glowing green eyes and unnatural white hair. Hers was bound to a low ponytail, her arms crossed and a frown similar to Phantom's on her lips. With her baby fat it looked more like a pout than anything else. Big, green eyes were fixed on Phantom, looking at him like he'd hung the stars.

A sound came from… somewhere around them, then. It sounded almost like the echo in a cave, or like the wind carried the sound with it from somewhere far away.

"It's been half a year since we started fighting the tyrant. And we have saved many of our brothers and sisters from his clutches. We're strong, and we make good progress." The voice was youthful, the voice of a child. Similar to Phantoms, but also nothing like it. "But we're always a step behind. He won't stop, and he doesn't care about our efforts. I know this is the High Chief we're talking about, but there is just one way if we want to win this fight, if we want to make sure our clans are safe again: He has to go."

Cheering echoed around them, but also uneasy mumbling. A gruff voice, almost angry, cried out over the other sounds: "And how do you think we should do that? You're a child. We're sworn to him. Who would be able to best him in a fight, huh?"

The dust in the air moved to settle into a new picture. Now Phantom stood there with his arms raised in a placating manner, his expression almost imploring.

"We will need help. I know we do. I'm not stupid or reckless enough to risk attacking him head on, on his terms. We will corner him, we will set a trap and we will detain him."

The picture moved again, to show a man taking a step forward. The same voice from earlier sounded around them. "And just how do you intend to do that, child?"

"Like I said: With help."

The picture adjusted to show Phantom making a gesture to the side and turning to look that way. From that side, the familiar figure of the Fright Knight came into the picture, and half in front of him was a younger Lord Dantrey. Thirteen, maybe fourteen years old, if Jason had to wager a guess. His white hair wasn't in the intricate braids he'd seen until now. Instead, there were only two braided strands hanging down loosely on the right side of his face. The rest was chopped off, by the looks of it probably with a dull knife or something. He, at least, was wearing leather that looked somewhat like protective gear.

Outraged and fearful outcries sounded from around them. Jason couldn't blame them. Though he was much younger, the red eyes on the Lord Dantrey in the picture were much colder, much scarier. And Jason knew what he'd been doing during the war.

"This" Phantom's voice cut through the loud protests around him "is Commander Shadow, one of Pariah Dark's right hand men. He is my brother, and he agreed to help us."

"That's a shadowborn monster!"

Jason flinched at that. He couldn't tell whether the Lord Dantrey in the picture did, but the one next to him didn't even react to it. He must've heard that a lot.

When the picture changed again, this time it showed the little girl on the table next to them, with her hands on her hips and a defiant look on her face. The young Dantrey was now next to the young Phantom, one hand of the younger brother on the shoulder of the older one. It was a mocking, even younger voice that sounded this time, the voice of a young girl: "Yeah! And he is our brother. Didn't you hear? Or are you deaf?"

When the sound around them rose again, the picture adjusted to show Phantom with a glare and a hand raised to silence the small crowd. "Shadow is our brother. He learned to overcome the hate he was born with, and he has agreed to help us. He even recruited the Fright Knight to our cause. And Clockwork and Frostbite have both officiated the adoption ceremony, so he is officially my brother now. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave."

Murmuring. Then the voice of a young woman. "Did the Ancient Clockwork prophecise a future where this works?"

Phantom's voice answered this time. "He did. My brother will help us."

"And there isn't one where we don't have to rely on our enemy?" The man from earlier again.

"We're not. We're relying on my brother. On my family. But even if there was a future where we didn't need his help, I wouldn't know. What I do know, though, is that there isn't and will never again be a future without him in it, now that I've found him."

The memory might be longer than that. But Jason didn't get to see more, because Lord Dantrey dropped the necklace back in his shirt as soon as he cut off the magic. "He almost shattered the rebellion he started with that," he explained softly, a smile on his lips. "I told him he didn't need to go that far for me. But he said he'd fight with only his clan by his side if that meant he didn't have to treat me less kindly than I deserved. I think it was that resolve to his family that tipped the scale in the end, and only two of them ended up leaving. Even more joined soon after."

Jason wasn't sure what to say to that. What could you say when someone shared such an important moment with you? Let alone that he was pretty sure he'd just seen how Phantom became the leader of the rebellion that took out Pariah Dark.

They'd all… looked so young. They were just children. The white-haired girl, who must've been their sister Elle because who else could she have been, had been around Damian's age. Slightly younger, if Jason had to guess. Lord Dantrey had been about as old as Jason had been when… when Phantom had found him. And Phantom himself had been even younger.

Of course Jason had known that all of them were young back then. They were around Jason and Tim's age now, so of course they would've been children at the same time as them. But, well… Seeing it was different than just knowing it.

Phantom really had violently overthrown a government as a child. He'd taken the throne as a child, too.

It'd been five years since Pariah Dark had lost against Phantom. Five years. Tim had been thirteen five years ago, Jason had been fifteen, Damian had been five. What age had Phantom been when he'd bested the strongest and most dangerous man of the entire continent?

How much stronger had he gotten since?

How did a child that young even get involved in a war as brutal as that one had been? Lord Dantrey had mentioned that Phantom had lost his parents at a young age, right? Had it been due to resentment against Pariah for allowing them to die that Phantom had fought him? And if so, what would that mean for Jason's family? What would it mean for Tim?

Messing with Phantom's family was probably the worst mistake anyone could make, Jason realised with a shudder.

He only really understood how lucky Jason had been that they'd, for some inexplicable reason, decided to show him mercy and spare him after the duel. Whatever he'd done that had made them consider his continued existence a good thing, whatever reason they had for making it out to be like Jason won of all things, he suddenly realised that it had saved probably not only him but his entire family. Jason could barely breathe thinking about all the things that could and would have gone wrong without.

"Danny is just like that," Lord Dantrey casually said when Jason was too silent for too long, idly gazing up at the sky, "Once he finds someone he could consider family, he grasps on tight and never lets go. And he'll do anything he can for them, no matter what the risk or cost may be. There is nothing, not a single line that he wouldn't cross for his family. And that gained him a lot of respect at home."

"Your home places a lot of importance on family, then," Jason faintly answered.

"We do." Lord Dantrey nodded, smirking at Jason. "Our families are the most precious thing for us, especially the members we found ourselves rather than being born into. We would rather die than loose our honour - but we'd throw even our honour away in a heartbeat for the sake of our clan. Even more so for our family."

It shed a whole different light on the arranged marriage business. After all, if their family was so important to them then taking Tim wasn't just taking a hostage to emotionally blackmail them. It was so much more than that. Way more personally. It was them claiming what they thought was Gotham's most sacred treasure, not just some prince with no blood ties who was still useful to them.

If family was that important to them, than their ripping Jason family apart was all the more cruel for it.

"Was Pariah also that loyal to his family?" Did he also aim to rip their families apart to be cruel, was that the reason so many orphans were suffering through the aftereffect of the last war? But Jason didn't ask the second question, not like that.

Surprisingly, Lord Dantrey shook his head. "He didn't have one, as far as I'm aware. Might've had one at some point, but not in the time I've known him. No, that's one of the main differences between Danny and Pariah. You can say what you want about how merciful or generous or wise of a ruler Danny is, but the real difference is in how people look at them. Pariah ruled through his strength, through fear. But Danny? Danny rules because people trust him. He respects our values, and he is respected in turn."

It sure felt to Jason like Phantom was ruling through fear. But maybe that was only towards his enemies. Maybe that was only because he didn't like the countries of the League. And if Lord Dantrey was to be believed, then that really did make Phantom all the more fearsome.

Deciding he needed a change in topic ASAP, Jason hummed and thought about what they'd talked about before. "Right… You said you liked baking, right? So, what's your favourite treat to make?"

Fortunately Lord Dantrey allowed Jason to change the topic back with nothing more than a quick, raised eyebrow. "Hm, let's see… I think I like making cookies the best. Did you ever have Flame's Tears?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jason shook his head. "No. What is that?"

Chapter Text

Gotham was a beautiful country. It was bright and alight with people, plants grew strong and proud, and the cities were well thought-out. The walls surrounding Bristol might as well be works of art, and the streets were planned carefully for optimal usage and well-made. Smooth enough that a carriage ride wouldn't be too bumpy.

Danny had known he liked the city even when they'd first entered and he hadn't seen much of it yet. But now, standing once again in the town square and looking around, he really couldn't help but wonder why Gothamites had such a bad reputation. Sure, they were a bit more gruff than what he remembered from Star, but they were kind enough. Brash, sure, and a bit brisk. Maybe even a little obstinate. But they were nice enough behind that hard shell, and Danny could tell by the way they carried themselves that all in all they had a good life. That they loved their home, all things considered.

Next to him, Prince Timothy gave a wistful look around the square. It was obvious that he loved this country, this city. It must've been hard on him, knowing that he would soon be leaving it behind. And even if he could visit, with the dangers of the journey it wasn't like he could just come and go as he pleased. Even if they would be right in the neighbouring country.

Danny knew what that was like. Having to leave Star behind was one of the hardest things he'd had to do all his life, and at times it still hurt. He didn't regret it, of course, but that didn't mean he never got home sick for the kingdom beyond the mountain range.

Danny could only hope that the prince would learn to love the Infinite Lands like he had, and that it would lessen the pain of having to leave Gotham for it.

Prince Timothy, clad in a simple linen shirt and vest today, seemed to notice Danny's gaze on him. At least he turned to Danny to look back. At the sight of Danny, who was wearing simple traveling leathers himself, the prince smiled. "It's uncanny to see you like this," the prince admitted softly, "I never knew magic could have an effect like that."

Suddenly feeling shy under the watchful gaze of his fiancé, Danny grasped one of the strands of his hair. He'd used a potion to dye it brown, and another one to hide the glow in his eyes. Now he just looked like any other green-eyed, brown-haired man. No one would suspect who he was. At least he hoped.

They had decided against taking guards with them and for going incognito instead. This way they hoped to avoid making the other people nervous - after all it would be quite surprising to see both their prince and the ruler of a nation that'd been their enemy just a little while ago.

Danny could, of course, have dyed his hair black and used a different potion to get his blue eyes back for a while. But… Well, it felt weird to do that with magic. Wrong. And he wasn't the same black-haired, blue-eyed child he'd been back then. It'd been years. So even though Dan had given him pitying looks all morning, Danny had decided against it.

Now, though, he was starting to feel insecure about his choice. "Does it look very weird?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, no, not at all!" Prince Timothy quickly waved away the thought. "No, I only thought it's amazing what magic can do… Though I'd have to admit, I think your usual look suits you better."

Relieved, Danny took a breath. "That's good, then. I was unsure since this appearance isn't one I've had before."

"Oh?" Prince Timothy started leading Danny through the streets once again at a leisurely pace, waving to some of the residents in passing. "Do you use these potions a lot, then?"

Danny laughed at the thought. "No, I really don't. It's my first time using them, actually. I would've been nervous about it, but the alchemist who made them is a close friend and I know I can trust him."

"Oh. I thought… It sounded like you had changed your appearance before."

After a short moment to contemplate it, Danny nodded. "I have, though not on purpose. Gaining my blessings… changed me. In more ways than one. I used to look very differently once. Would again, if my magic ran out. But that's never happened before, so it hasn't changed since I was a child."

Surprise coloured his voice and face when Prince Timothy answered this time. "You were blessed as a child? I was under the impression the Ancients only blessed people that impressed them?"

Making a so-so motion with his hand, Danny's gaze was drawn by a stall with a strange, savoury smell. "They may not pass out blessings willy-nilly and they won't give them to someone they don't think will use it well, but they're actually a lot more generous with it than the gods are. It's true that they sometimes offer a blessing as a reward when you've impressed them, but more often than not it's because you need the blessing. It's… They can't get involved in everything, right? If they did it wouldn't only be way too much to handle all at once, their magic would also end up being too much for the Infinite Lands to handle after a while and the fragile balance of magic within it would collapse. So they pass out blessings to those in need instead." Danny hesitated a moment, before he turned to make quick eye contact with the prince. "Most of us, like me, got a blessing as a means to survive, at a time when we would have died otherwise."

For a little while, the Gothamite was silent. Then he smiled at Danny, empty and polite. Danny hated that smile, especially since he'd seen more and more of the many other smiles the prince's lips would stretch into.

His favourite was the soft, tender one that showed up when he talked to his siblings, when he was surrounded by his clan. It was barely there, and it was perfect.

"That sounds quite nice, I must say. To know that when you are in mortal peril, you can trust the Ancients to hear your prayer."

The way the prince said that reminded Danny of himself as a child. His parents hadn't believed in the gods, and contrary to Jazz he'd adapted those views. But that only meant that if he was right and the prince wasn't a believer he'd be in for quite a surprise when he'd hear the first rant from any of the Ancients about their parents and how unfair they were being. Strained relationships made for excellent gossip, after all.

Still, Danny supposed he should warn the prince at least. So he smirked at him, tilting his head to look at Prince Timothy from below. "What about you? Are you a very religious man, my dear fiancé?"

The way the prince stiffened was just as much of an answer as the neutral tone he took. "Though I've heard rumours of it happening, I can't say that I've ever felt my prayers were heard when I needed them to be."

Danny understood the political answer, he really did. A prince being blasphemous in the middle of the town would be quite the scandal, after all. Still, he couldn't help the snort that left his mouth. "I see… Neither was I, back then." Danny shrugged at the surprised look the prince sent him. "My parents sure weren't. And with atheists as parents and growing up in the middle of the war right at the front… Well. I thought the gods and the Ancients were just stories people made up to feel better."

"And what changed that?" The prince asked, still with that polite smile but also with genuine interest shining through from his eyes. "Gaining their blessing?"

Laughing at the memory, Danny shook his head. "Oh, no. My first blessing wasn't even from the Ancients. It was by the spirit of Hiemis, actually. And the next two blessings I got were because his ghost can't really control his magic anymore, which means his blessings tend to be… rough around the edges, let's say." Like the blessing Prince Jason was dealing with. "But I wasn't a believer then, either. I sought refuge with one Ancient and was under the tutelage of the other for a while before that happened, if you can believe it."

"You mean… You stayed at one temple but got trained as a priest in a different one?"

"No." Danny shook his head. "I mean that one grumpy, old Ancient offered to give me a place to stay because my home was destroyed and my family dead, making me effectively homeless. And the other one personally taught me to control my new powers." Smirking at his betrothed, Danny winked. "And, well, you can only talk to literally divine beings so often and remain in denial."

"You talk as though you've met them personally," the prince observed, obviously holding back a scoff.

Chuckling at the similarity of Prince Timothy's reaction to his own reactions as a child, Danny nodded. "I have," he easily admitted, "In fact, most of my magic control was taught to me in private lessons by Frostbite himself, and Pandora was the one to trained me to fight without the use of blessings. Lord Nocturn instructed me in etiquette and Clockwork tutored me in strategy. Both Lord Vortex and Lord Undergrowth aren't exactly fond of me, so I can't say I've met them very often. Nor did I meet with Lord Sojurn too much, but that's mainly because he's barely ever around. We get along nicely when he's back, and he even helped me figure out how to raise my sister at one point."

Blinking at Danny in terrified confusion, the Gothamite gave him a shaky smile. "Uhm. You mean… from their scriptures?"

"No." Danny smirked with a shrug. "I mean face-to-face. As in, in the same room as them. Within their lairs, mostly. With conversation, hands-on approach and everything. They do speak our language, you know?"

Prince Timothy looked as though he'd been slapped by a fish, and Danny couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. "Don't worry, you'll meet them, too. And they're a lot nicer than your legends give them credit for."

"I… see," his highness muttered faintly, face looking a bit pale. Danny understood, he'd felt pretty overwhelmed when he'd first found out the Ancients were real and everything that implied, too.

So he smiled, pointing at the stand with the weird food he'd noticed earlier. "How about we grab something to eat and sit down while you process that, and then you show me your favourite places?"

Clearing his throat and blinking, Timothy smiled again, the same smile Danny could not recognise as his diplomatic-smile. "That sound like a good plan, yes. Thank you for your kind consideration, Danny."

Snorting, Danny lead the way to the stand. "I thought we were over that overly formal way of talking. Come on, my betrothed, let's keep treating each other casually, hm?"

When he glanced over his shoulder, the prince was bright red. Why, though? He'd only… Oh. Oh. He'd never actually said it aloud before, had he? Though he couldn't very well keep calling him "his highness" while they were in disguise, could he? And since resorting to your relationship with each other was the default back home whenever you couldn't use the name you've been given…

It'd been automatic, instinctual even. But now that he'd noticed it, Danny found himself also getting a bit shy about it. "Is… Is it alright to call you that? I figured, since that's what we are to each other… My apologies, I should have asked beforehand."

The prince gave another smile, a genuine one now. "Look who's using formal language now." He hesitated a bit, blushed again, and then added: "My dear."

Immediately Danny felt his face heat up into a burning red. His dear. His dear. That was a much more personal way to address him than Danny had used.

And it was true, of course. Danny was, in fact, the prince's. He was his fiancé. His betrothed. Soon to be his husband. Soon to be a clan, a family. And, more than any of that, Danny could already feel himself falling for the Gothamite prince. Deeply, desperately. He always did fall too fast and too hard, but this time… The young prince he was betrothed to was just so kind. So chaotic and smart and concerned for his people, and the way he could talk when something truly interested him!

He really hoped they would keep getting along as well as they had so far. He hoped the prince felt just as giddy about Danny as Danny did about him. He hoped the two of them could one day be lovers first and a political match second.

The blush on the prince's face as he called Danny his dear, though, and the shy glance to the side filled Danny with hope that it was possible, at least.

Too caught up in his thoughts, Danny didn't notice when the prince bought two of the skewers Danny had been interested in. "It's honey-roasted boar," the Prince explained, "It's one of the most popular dishes in Bristol. Though I, personally, must say I prefer the chilli dogs they sell in Crime- er, in Park Row, I mean."

"Park Row?" Danny thought about it for a moment. The name seemed vaguely familiar, though he wasn't sure where he'd heard of it before. Then again, he'd never lived in Gotham and even if he did he wouldn't know all the cities within the kingdom. He sure didn't know all the cities located in Star, and even now he only knew all the settlements in the Lands because it was his job as its ruler.

Still, the way the prince had said the name implied that Danny should know the place. Was it somewhere close to the Lands? Hm… He only knew of Narrows and Crime Alley as border cities.

Ah, wait! Wasn't Crime Alley only a nickname? To make sure, Danny asked: "The city his highness Prince Jason is from?"

"The very same," Prince Timothy answered with a nod. "It was my brother who showed them to me. There's this place he used to frequent with his mother and- Ah. My apologies, I shouldn't be talking about that."

Which made sense, Danny guessed. If that was a place special to the prince because it used to be a place he went with his mother, Danny could understand why he wouldn't want his brother to tell strangers about it. Still, Danny found himself a little disappointed. Prince Timothy had looked so happy talking about it. He would've liked to hear more.

Danny nodded in understanding at the prince, not showing his disappointment, and took a bite from the boar. It was surprisingly tasty. Hm… Maybe he should ask the vendor whether he should like to open a shop in the Lands. Or at least give Danny the recipe? Though he guessed both requests wouldn't be well received. Especially considering he was currently under cover.

Still… "Now I feel sad we don't have something like this back home."

He'd only mumbled that to himself, but apparently his fiancé had heard him. At the very least Prince Timothy looked up at his words, letting out a small chuckle. "Well, I mean, I could always teach you how to make them?"

Surprised, Danny blinked at him stupidly for a moment. Part of him - or more like most of him - had assumed the prince didn't know how to cook, actually. But even more than that he was surprised that his royal highness Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne, high born and raised in the high society of Bristol's nobility even before being adopted into the royal family of Gotham… knew how to make a dish soled on the streets.

"Uhm…" Yes, Danny. Very smart answer. Very suave. Clearing his throat and looking away to hide his blush, Danny nodded. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

He was thinking about what else he could say, when suddenly his attention was drawn to a conversation close by when his name was called.

"Phantom is too cruel," a young man huffed in annoyance. It didn't take long for Danny to find the source of the voice, a blonde standing next to two other guys. They must've been on break, Danny figured. They were all wearing what looked like work clothes.

"Oh, absolutely!" the blonde next to the first man agreed with a frown. "Not only did he all but barge into Gotham, he even forced our poor prince into a marriage contract!"

The black-haired one with them let out a deep sigh. "Gods, I don't even know what to say to that… His highness really doesn't deserve such a fate. I mean, can you imagine what those barbarians will do to him there?"

"I saw him ride into Bristol with his brother the other day," the brunette told his friends like some sort of confession, "That brute encountered a thief and nearly beat them all to death. They even left them in some alley, unconscious and bleeding! I mean, can you imagine?"

Frowning at that, Danny hummed softly. "Dan acted in self defence. They make it sound like he decided to beat up the first unlucky guy he found a justification to harm. And they weren't unconscious, either. They were just faking, we made sure before we left…"

"I'm so sorry," the prince's panicked voice made him look back to the other side. When he did he found that his fiancé was pale and his lips pressed together tightly. His blue eyes were cast down, looking at where his hands were gripping his own food tightly. "I… I don't know who's spreading those rumours. I promise I'll take care of them, so…"

Sighing, Danny forced himself to relax. When had he gotten so tense anyways? Gently, he placed his hand on top of Prince Timothy's. "Don't worry, my betrothed," he tried to soothe what he figured was anger about people saying such baseless things, "It's natural that they'd be weary of me. I mean, it's not been that long since we signed the treaty, right? Minds take time to change - and I'm confident they'll know they were wrong to say something like that sooner rather than later."

The prince took a deep breath to steady himself, then gave Danny a shaky smile. "Yes. I suppose so…"

He still didn't seem to be very happy. Frowning at that thought, Danny sighed again. "Well, betrothed. How about we just forget this happened? Let's keep looking around instead, hm?"

That thought seemed to cheer the prince up, at least. "I'd like that," he agreed, taking the hand Danny offered him with a smile that was a lot more sincere now. "I'd really like that. Thank you."

Kissing the air just above the prince's hand like he'd seen his father do with his mother as a child, Danny smirked. "You're my betrothed," he reminded the man he was already slowly falling in love with, "you don't have to thank me for anything, never."

Chapter Text

"That's impressive craftsmanship."

The fearsome, cruel, powerful warlord ruling over the Infinite Lands really didn't look too scary, crouched down like that with stars in his eyes. The moment Tim had lead him into this store, the man had lost all pretences of decorum. For the last five minutes, he'd been tripping all over himself looking at the weapons on display. It shouldn't be cute, a dangerous adult man having a close look at weapons he definitely knew how to use. And yet, the look of astonished awe made him look almost… harmless.

Tim knew these weapons were well-made. His entire family, even Damian, liked to frequent this store. In disguise, most of the time. To avoid unnecessary stress for anyone involved. Because as much as they all adored the weapons made here, the fuss was annoying. And the poor people manning the store would have an awfully hard time knowing there was a royal in the store, too.

Mentally, Tim apologised for brining Danny of all people here.

Still, when he'd asked Tim to show him his favourite places, the Gothamite had blanked. He couldn't very well show Danny the view from the rooftops, after all.

He hadn't realised how heavily Bruce's paranoia and insistence all his children be knighted and trained thoroughly had influenced his own perception of the city he'd grown up in. Tim was sure he used to have places he liked before being adopted into the royal life. He just… couldn't quite remember what they were.

So a weapons store it was. And, by the looks from it, that had suited the High Chief just fine. More than fine, judging by the stars in his eyes.

Tim was glad. After overhearing those rumours earlier, he'd feared the man would be angry. But apparently he'd really meant his offer to just forget it. Tim had never been so glad his mother had insisted on teaching him how to wrap people around his pinky. Not that he really had managed that with the High Chief, of course. Tim doubted he ever would manage to get that far. But at the very least he'd managed to get into the other's good graces. And if he kept at it, he might very well manage to manoeuvre himself into a position where he'd even be allowed to make some demands. Where he'd have an advantage when negotiating.

"Did you know," Danny's voice pulled Tim out of his hopeful thoughts, "that the purity of the metal has an effect on enchantments? The purer it is, the more accurate the enchantment. There's even some enchantments that can't be cast unless the blade is pure enough because it'd be dangerous for the wielder. Accurate heat control is the same, actually: If the blade isn't hard enough, it can't handle a strong enchantment. So being able to control the heat during forging is really important if you want to cast enchantments on a weapon."

"I didn't know," Tim acknowledged, leaning over Danny's shoulder to look at the dagger he was currently holding, "So, then you can't use any weapon for enchantments, huh?"

Shaking his head, Danny looked up at him, then startled when he noticed how close they were and looked back down with a blush adorning his cheeks. "No, you can't. It has to be a high-end blade to begin with. That's why they're so costly, too. The process of enchantment might be complicated, but it can always be replicated. But gaining a blade that's stable and pure enough to be used for it? That's the hard part. It's why I don't use weapons a lot, too. Channeling magic into a blade is the same: If it's not well enough made it'll shatter or hurt the one channeling the magic. And since I fight mainly with my blessings, blades tend to get into my way rather than help."

Ah. Not a scary thought at all, really. That he was strong enough being armoured was only a bother to him.

"The furnaces in the- back home aren't as advanced as they are here," Danny continued, apparently as nonchalant about casually displaying his might as always, "It's pretty silly, if you think about it. The whole culture might as well be based around fighting. We even call the smithy the Heart of the Village. But, you know, we've always been cut off from the rest of the world. First by our… religious differences, and later by the Cursed Lands. We don't have enough raw materials to waste them by experimenting, and we don't have anyone to teach us."

Tim had read that the weapons of the barbarians were "primitive" and "roughhewn". It'd only been mentioned in side notes, and since that barely made any difference considering they won on nearly every front. So Tim had assumed it to be irrelevant, perhaps even a comment made by sore losers. He hadn't expected it to be because they lacked the means to advance their forges.

Gotham was one of the most advanced nations when it came to craftsmanship. Especially that of weapons and armour. People had often said it was Bruce's fault, that his paranoia was the driving force behind the advancement. Tim knew very well that B's paranoia had only skyrocketed when the Great War had started, and the advancement had begun well before he'd even ascended to the throne.

Danny had made a comment a couple of days ago that he was happy Tim was the one he'd ended up engaged to. Was it because he was a prince of Gotham?

"It makes crafting quality weapons tough," Danny continued, as he put the dagger back and stood to reach for a sword. He gave it a couple of swings. For someone who apparently usually refrained from using blades he was quite adapt at handling one. "But that just means we have to take extra good care of them. They are our dear companions, after all."

"You mentioned," Tim remembered, "When we first met. You said they are considered part of your soul, correct?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Danny smiled at Tim. And for a moment, Tim forgot how to breathe.

Danny had dimples when he smiled. And his eyes wrinkled. If Tim tried, could he give Danny laugh lines down the line? Oh, how Tim wanted to touch Danny's cheek, see how those dimples would feel like under his hand. He hated himself for it, but he found himself falling a bit more for his betrothed. Found his heart hurting to caress Danny's face. To keep making him smile like that.

He looked so much better with a smile rather than his usual smirk. So much gentler. Kinder.

Tim knew he was none of those things. Not really. Even though he was courteous to Tim, he knew he couldn't be fooled. It would be Tim's mistake, and his alone, if he were to singlehandedly misunderstand Danny's courtesy as genuine care. It would be his fault and his pain.

So Tim took a deliberate breath and smiled back. Tried to make his smile as lovely and charming as his mother had taught him to be. And part of him, somewhere in a corner of his mind, might want for Danny to feel the same way - both now and later, when Tim's foolish heart would hurt him.

He didn't know whether he had succeded in it, but he at least managed to make Danny's face turn that lovely shade of red it'd been earlier.

"Erm, yes," Danny agreed, clearing his throat, "That's right. Our family is our heart and our weapon is our soul. It's a bit poetic if you think about it, isn't it? The thought of protecting your heart with your soul? But, eh, that's not the reason why we say it's our soul. That's actually because there's a myth that blades develop souls of their own as they accompany a warrior on their Path. In that myth, the soul of the wielder is slowly ingrained into the metal of the blade. From a mixture of that and the wielder entrusting their life to the blade, a new soul is born. As time goes on, the pain and loneliness of the Path is soothed by the company of the soul within the blade."

Hanging the sword back up, Danny walked a couple of steps to admire a bow. Tim noticed that this time he didn't take it from the display on the wall and just leaned over to look at it. Huh.

"That's an interesting myth… I had no idea." Then again, Tim didn't really have an idea about any of the myths of the Infinite Lands. Having a myth based around swords and weapons fit with what little he did know, however. Eager to learn more due to his curious streak - and also due to knowing he'd soon have to live among the people of the Infinite Lands and their myths - Tim asked: "I'd wager a guess there's more cultural implications to that myth than not separating from your w-, erm, your companion. Correct?"

Danny hummed, taking an arrow into his hand and gently poking his finger with its tip. "Right. For example, we mourn their deaths when they break. We even have a funeral of sorts for them. There's a ceremony and everything. Using the edge created by the breakage, we draw blood from our own hands and let it drop on all the parts of the blade as well as the handle. Then, we burry it with our bare hands. After that, we use either blood or red paint to ask Pandora, the Ancient of Battle and Patron of the Path of the warriors, to receive the soul of our blade and protect it within her box. Last but not least, we see the soul off with a moment of silence."

Tim took that in, imagined what that must be like. It was a good thing, he mused to himself as he watched Danny balance the arrow on the back on his pinky, that he found out about it now. He couldn't even imagine how disrespectful his reaction would've been if he'd only learned of this once it'd become relevant.

"Are there more myths like that?"

Closing one eye to look along the shaft of the arrow, Danny smirked. "Oh, yes. The children of the Lands are incredibly superstitious. Almost all our traditions are based on a myth or a legend or a similar story. Take that custom with the names, for example. The reason that became a thing in the first place is because according to legend there were fae hiding in the trees once upon a time. So saying somebody's name aloud was to offer them up on a silver platter - and giving someone your name was to trust them with your life. Nowadays there's no fae folk in the Lands, and I'm not so sure there ever were, but the tradition remains."

Putting the arrow away, Danny turned back around to Tim. "By the way," he asked, not as casual as he was probably intending to, "What is your favourite type of weapon?"

"A bō staff," Tim answered right away, not even thinking about it for once, "Although I'm also fairly good with throwing knives. Or, well. The ones my family uses, at least."

"The bat-shaped ones," Danny nodded, "I'm familiar. They're very… curious. They look ineffective, and their balance is hard to gauge, but when thrown with the necessary know-how they're far more volatile than any other knife I've seen so far. Even the shuriken my sister brought back from her travels were less complex of a weapon."

Tim was surprised. He knew they hadn't been able to gather up all the batarangs they'd used in the fights with the Infinite Lands, of course. But they'd made an effort to - and even then, Danny's words implied that he, or someone close to him at least, had figured out how to use them. The weapons were intricate, dangerous and their use complicated. Not even anyone from Gotham had managed to master their use, not without the special training only the royal family received.

He should've expected the people of the Infinite Lands to figure them out, now that he thought about it. They were known for their prowess in battle, after all. But he still couldn't say he'd seen this coming.

He should probably tell B about this later.

"The very same," Tim finally admitted after a moment or two of stunned silence, "I… wasn't aware you knew how to use them."

"I don't," Danny shook his head, raising his hand to hide a giggle at the thought. He looked pretty like that, almost like a painting. With his natural eye and hair colour it would've been even prettier, in Tim's opinion. Was it weird for him to think that? He should hate the green glow of his enemy country's magic, shouldn't he? Especially since it was the glow that still haunted his brother.

On Danny, though, it looked different than it did in battle or in Jason's eyes. It looked… serene, in a way. Calm. Powerful and dangerous, yes, but also steady and protective and… and what was Tim even doing, thinking all of that?

Danny did not and would not love him. Not unconditionally, not more than his duties.

Tim had to keep reminding himself of that today, it seemed. His fears were slowly turning true, he noticed, because he felt himself falling just a bit deeper for the man in front of him with every leisurely moment they spent together.

It was just so easy to imagine, what it would be like. Danny gave his attention freely to Tim, and he was being awfully courteous considering their position. Tim, who had grown up the Janet and Jack Drake, both of whom had viewed love as a means to an end, and then with the royal Wayne family, most of whom were emotionally constipated, had never been shown care and attention as freely as Danny was doing now. Not even Dick, who loved to smother his family with his affection, looked at Tim this intensely.

He'd never turn away from his allies, King Oliver had recounted of his interaction with Lord Dantrey. Tim could absolutely believe it, too. He'd seen how he smiled at his guards, how he treated his brother. And even towards Tim he was being so… so…

Being loved by Danny must've been a wonderful thing, Tim figured. It was easy to figure what it would be like, and even easier to yearn for it.

I am aware that you don't love me right now. I can't say I do either. But, who knows? Maybe one day that could change. That's what he'd said in the royal gardens, right? How foolish of Tim's heart to twist those words into a feeble sort of hope. How cruel of his mind to keep reminding him of those words, when he knew all too well that any love blooming between them would be tainted at best.

If things were different, Tim thought wistfully, if Danny was not from an enemy nation, if he'd been born within the League, in Gotham or Star or even Metropolis… It was futile to think like that. Because that just wasn't how things were. Still. Today, away from Tim's and Danny's duties and just able to be themselves at least to a certain degree, he couldn't help but think they could've been lovers then. Courting properly, getting to know each other behind the masks of a ruler, eventually getting engaged. Maybe they could've been happy together, then. Perhaps Danny would've even loved Tim for something else than brittle feelings of affection that came from a duty as his husband-to-be.

Tim really should stop dreaming. Duke Drake had always told him it would do him no good, that it would only hurt him in the long run. Tim figured he might have been on to something, though he could've never known any of this would happen.

"-but, after a couple of bruises to his ego and a few flesh wounds, he figured it out. Not that he knows how he does it beyond muscle memory - and even if he did, my brother is a terrible teacher. So don't you worry, your special weapon is still safe," Danny ended his story with a smirk and a wink. Tim felt his cheeks redden once more at the gesture, and maybe also at the realisation that he'd been too caught up in his feelings and hadn't been listening to any of it. Even though it was obviously important intel.

Not sure how to reply, Tim gave a smile back. "Sound like an adventure," he chanced.

"Oh, it most certainly was," Danny snorted, so apparently it had been the right thing to say. Sighing dreamily, Danny then spun to look around the shop. "Still. Ancients, what I wouldn't give for a shop like this back home! Alas, there's not much reason for anyone to join our ranks right now. I tried to make an offer before, too, but I was shot down."

Ah. That… That sounded like it would be bad. Was he angry about that? The frown he wore now certainly didn't make it look like he was happy about it. The lines of his shoulder looked nothing like he was being angry, though. Fortunately.

Just to make sure, Tim still figured he should ask him. "Oh? That sounds unfortunate."

"It is," Danny agreed, frown deepening. Uh-oh. "But he told me he'd rather not join me before I could even make my offer. It's a shame, but that's that. Though I did tell him he could always change his mind and I'd welcome him. His mind seemed to be made up, though, so I fear that won't happen."

Yeah, definitely not good. Did Tim have to do some damage control? "I see… And what do you want to do about that?"

"Hm?" Danny blinked, then shrugged. "I wasn't going to do anything about it, really. I mean, it's not like I can ask every blacksmith in the city, is it? So I guess it just isn't meant to happen right now. Maybe in the future, though…"

Alright. That sounded like Tim could at least prevent Danny from doing something in the future, if he didn't have plans on doing anything yet. That's good. Tim could absolutely work with that.

Judging by the way Danny was acting about the weapons and the shop in general, Tim figured smiths must be really respected in the Infinite Lands. They would be part of the Weaver Path, right? Lord Dantrey had mentioned that they held great importance in their culture, if he remembered right (which he was sure he did, he'd been writing down everything about their culture he could). So it stood to reason that they were treated fairly there, right? Even if they were outsiders, at least for as long as their knowledge held value, surely?

Perhaps it would be smart to invite the head of the smith guild to the castle for a word? They did agree on an exchange program. This seemed to be the least dangerous option so far for the people involved, even if Tim loathed giving up their trump card like that. They would be supplying the Infinite Lands with weapons inadvertently like this. Still, it posed relatively little danger for the people involved and that was the priority.

Especially if it could sooth Danny's anger over being turned down that fast, which Tim was sure would come sooner or later.

He was just about to bring the option up when the evening bell chimed outside, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh. Have we been gone for that lone already?" Danny asked softly, then turned to Tim. "I fear that's our cue to return, isn't it? How sad… Today was so much fun, I wish it would go on a bit longer."

"Me as well," Tim smiled, and found that he actually meant it, "However, if we don't leave now we will most certainly miss the dinner that Alfred must have prepared."

"Ah." Danny nodded as he held open the door for Tim. "We can't have that. An evening without Alfred's cooking, can you imagine?"

The laugh Tim gave at the exaggerated gasp Danny made was real. So was his smile as he walked past Danny and took the hand his betrothed offered. "Can I assume you've developed a taste for Gotham cuisine, then?"

Danny hummed, tapping his chin with a finger of his free hand thoughtfully. "Well, I still miss the taste of home, and truth be told I still prefer it. Yet I fear I can't deny that I might have become slightly addicted to Alfred's cooking."

"Yes," Tim chuckled as they started to make their way back to the castle, arms interlocked, "Alfred's skills in the kitchen do have that effect on people."

Chapter Text

"Phantom's guards have been buying weapons."

"He did mention something about a monster hunt almost right after we return." Tim was pretty proud of himself for not stumbling over his words when he said that. He was getting better at talking about these things. Maybe because the last few days had actually gone pretty well. It had been just a bit over a week since Danny and Lord Dantrey had arrived in Bristol now. Tim was starting to get used to the idea of spending his life as Danny's consort, and the more time the two of them spent together the more likely it felt that Danny would actually allow him to at least somewhat stand by his side.

He knew he wouldn't be Danny's equal, of course. He was a hostage, after all. But at least Danny didn't seem interested in keeping him at his side as a pretty doll or to make an example out of him. It was relieving to think he might actually get to hold some power he could use to avoid the worst from happening, but also frightening.

Danny had talked a lot about the importance of family and the Paths. He should probably start paying attention to what Danny was telling him in particular. Maybe that would give him some hint at what exactly would be expected of him? Or at least help him not mess up too badly when the time came. He wondered, would Danny give him some sort of grace period where he wouldn't get angry with him for making mistakes? He hoped so, and Danny'd demeanour towards Tim lately did give him some hope, but he knew he shouldn't count on it.

Work with what you have, Timothy. Be grateful for the leeway you're given and use it to your advantage. If you try to gain more, you'll only end up with less in the end - no one likes a greedy thing like that, he reminded himself of his mother's words. Or, if you absolutely do need more leeway, then work for it. Prove your worth, then make them want to give you more. But don't ask, make them think it was their idea to begin with.

"The hunt during the solstice, right? He used that as one of the reasons why we couldn't have more time, if I remember right." B sighed deeply, the hand on Tim's shoulder tightening almost imperceptibly. "He made it sound like it was quite the huge deal."

"There has been letter correspondence with his people through Cujo. Perhaps he got some news in regards to this hunt?" Damian carefully set the knives he'd been playing with nervously back down onto the table. Their edges glinted dangerously in the light of Bruce's study.

Eyebrows drawn in confusion, Dick looked up from the war journals he was still studying for some sort of clue. "Cujo?"

"His pet wyvern," Damian easily answered with a half-shrug, "From what I have seen he arrives nearly every evening with a letter, sometimes with a package as well. And the next morning at sunrise, he will fly back to the Infinite Lands with a response."

"You're on a first name basis with his pet wyvern?" Barb's shock was even more surprising than that revelation. Danny and Lord Dantrey were both exceptionally skilled at not doing anything suspicious or anything of substance around any plants. Tim was even starting to wonder whether they knew about Barb's blessing, because it was suspicious just how little she could hear even though she was trying to. That had never been a problem before…

Tim's pondering was interrupted by Damian stiffening as though he had been caught doing something he definitely shouldn't. And that… Was not good. That wasn't good. Why was he reacting like that?

"I… have been doing reconnaissance. Disguised as idle conversation."

Shit. Damian had been talking with Danny? Alone? And none of them had known? Why… What had they been talking about? How had no one noticed?

"I found that he is an honourable warrior," Damian kept going, like he was giving a report, "He values strength and he values loyalty. Especially loyalty towards family and clan. He also feels a great deal of loyalty towards his own family - he treasures them dearly, as far as I could tell. Protecting them is a priority to him. Unkind words towards them anger him. And he agrees that such offences should be retaliated against in an honourable fight."

"That sounds like you spend a lot of time together, little D…" Dick carefully approached their youngest brother, shooting a worried look towards B. Tim himself felt similarly unsure. Damian was had to win over, after all. It had surprised all of them how positive his attitude towards the High Chief had been after their first conversation, but they had thought it was just because of the wyvern. Animals had always been Damian's weak spot, after all. But now this? That was… slightly unnerving.

"We have," Damian easily admitted, "Nearly every day. He is to be Timothy's husband, I have to make sure to know as much about him as possible. Frankly, I am surprised that you are not doing the same."

Which, okay, fair. But still, he wasn't talking about Danny like he was talking about other people he kept an eye on. He was talking about him much kinder. With much more warmth.

"You like him a lot, don't you?" Dick gently asked, careful smile on his lips.

"I'm at least confident that Phantom is by far better than Pariah Dark could have been. And that he will make a somewhat decent husband to Timothy, too. I am still not in approval, but I've ascertained that it could have been much worse."

Yeah… It was suspicious. Damian wasn't usually like this. Especially not this soon after meeting someone. Not when the circumstances endangered his family, which Tim was pretty sure Damian considered Tim a part of by now.

Danny had an awful lot of blessings, and even Tim didn't know half of them or how many there were to begin with. And Lord Dantrey was known far and wide as one of the strongest mages of their time, right up there with Ra's, if not even stronger. Perhaps even the strongest mage there was right now. So it was possible, though Tim wouldn't have thought Danny capable of such a thing, that the reason for Damian's sudden burst of goodwill was… not originating from within Damian.

Tim hoped he was wrong, that this was just his training and his cautious mind seeing something that wasn't there. But if it wasn't…

The look Dick exchanged with B confirmed that the two of them thought the same thing as Tim was thinking. But if they were right, at the very least it didn't have an influence on Damian's cognitive capacities. Because he had seen it, too, and reacted by angrily jumping up from where he was sitting, throwing off Dick's hand on his arm in the process. "Oh, by the gods! I am not under some mind-magic spell. It's an insult that you even think so, I'm not weak enough to fall victim to one so easily. Especially not without even noticing!"

"Sorry," Dick immediately answered, raising both his hands in placating surrender, "I'm sorry. But since you're so sure, just for our peace of mind, maybe we could still go through the-"

"I said," Damian hissed sharply, a glare in his eyes and a frown on his lips, "that I am not under a spell. Do not treat me like a frail victim. My grandfather is one of the greatest mages of the century, do you honestly think I would not be aware if-"

"Just to make sure!" Dick also jumped up, a worried frown on his face. "You have to admit it's weird that you're this warmed up to him already."

"Oh, yes, very suspicious. It's not as though the Infinite Lands is a warrior society like the one I grew up in. Oh, I wonder why I would feel sure about my assessments of his character, or why I'd think why I might know which questions to ask and what to look for! It's not like that is the world I was raised in or anything, is it now?"

"But Nanda Parbat is not the Infinite Lands. Your grandfather is a mage with a curse of a blessing that makes him immortal and crazy, with illusions of grandeur and a god complex, whom we have fought back against again and again because we know how to. The High Chief is a man of many different blessings, with the backing of multiple ancient dragons that could wipe a country from the map whenever they felt like it by summoning natural catastrophes, whom we know nothing else about. That is not the same!" Bruce looked at Damian as though he might disappear if he looked away, as though he had already decided that a spell was the only possible reason why Damian could ever like Danny. "You of all people should know that."

"This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous, father. And you as well, Richard." Angry and obviously upset by their worry, Damian turned on his heel and threw open the door to the study. Apparently someone was there, because he stopped briefly to give a curt nod before he continued away.

They didn't have to wonder for long who it'd been, because at the next moment Danny came into view, looking after Damian with a thoughtful look on his face. "Is this a bad time?"

It was. It was a terrible time. They'd just been talking about him, and they had just brought up the possibility that he was manipulating their feelings towards him with magic - a thought they hadn't had any time to deal with yet. So in fact, the time could barely be worse.

"Not at all!" Dick immediately lied, a big smile for show on his face. "What can we do for you, your majesty?"

"I was going to talk to King Bruce," he answered, obviously not convinced he wasn't intruding. Possibly because that was exactly what was happening. And at a terrible time, too. "There was a question I was going to ask you, if I may? It's about the journey back home."

So about the journey where they'd take Tim away from his home, then. Bruce, who Tim knew was - contrary to Tim himself - not feeling any more optimistic about it than the first day, did well not to show any reaction to that statement. Instead, he made a motion for the High Chief to enter and take a seat. Danny did so almost immediately, sitting down next to Tim as though it was natural. Considering that Tim was not only his hostage but also his husband-to-be, it might be. Plus they'd spend a lot of time together lately.

Still. Was it normal in the Lands to just casually take the hand of your betrothed like that in front of his entire family? Because in Gotham high society it certainly was not. And, sure, Tim had been doing much of the same when they were alone lately. But that didn't mean it wasn't very forward or uncouth to do so, just that Tim was ignoring ettiquete in his attempts to get Danny to fall for him at least the tiniest bit. And he didn't do that in front of others, for crying out loud!

Dick must've though the same, because his smile was a little strained now and concerned eyes locked onto Tim. But, well, apart from the shock and embarrassment the touch wasn't really unwelcome. Intercepting would also likely be pushing Danny away, or even worsen his mood for the upcoming discussion. So he smiled back at his brother and gave the tiniest shake of the head. Dick saw and relaxed, and if Danny notices as well then he was nice enough not to react.

"To enter the Infinite Lands," Danny begun easily, as though it was no big deal, "we will have to traverse the Cursed Lands. The journey through there will take a while, and during nights the curse will freeze anything that touches it. That makes the white deserts pretty close to impossible to cross. But we have enchantments for the horse shoes we use. With that we're able to travel by night and rest during daylight, when the curse won't affect us. It's not ideal, but it works."

Interesting, but why was he telling them that all of a sudden?

"Does that mean Tim will have to use one of your horses, then?" Bruce inquired.

Raising his free hand, Danny made a so-so motion. "Not really. We could do that, sure. But I'd prefer to add those enchantments to his carriage. I think that'd be easier, and it would allow him to take a horse he trusts with him."

Huh. That was… considerate. Not that that part surprised Tim. Danny had been considerate so far, after all. But for some reason a part of Tim had figured that once they were wed and he was gone from the protective and watchful eyes of his family the consideration would at the very least lessen considerably. And adjusting his travels just so Tim could accompany them back more comfortably? That was on a whole other level than being forgiving of Tim's blunders.

"But I can't do that myself."

Ah. There it was. Of course that offer had been too good to be true. See? That was why Tim couldn't allow himself to keep forgetting why they were engaged to begin with. That was why he had to start remembering his place again.

"I have a friend. He is a very capable alchemist, and he is one of the best - if not the best - we have at tying spells to objects. I went ahead and asked him in a letter. He would be happy to come and work on it, if you would like that. My brother would be able to cast the spell, and my friend would fasten it to the wheels of the carriage and the horse shoes. But for that to happen, my friend would need you permission to enter Gotham and Bristol."

"He can't do it remotely? Or send the finished products?" Bruce asked boldly.

Danny shook his head. "He insists that he needs to work with the object. Apparently it won't be as good if he can't visualise the entire thing. He says he needs to see the carriage, and meet the horse. I'm not sure why myself, but like I said: He knows what he's doing."

So, basically he was saying that if they wanted to make sure Tim would arrive in the Infinite Lands alive and well, they had to allow this friend of his into Gotham. And yet, if they did… They didn't know what kind of magic he would be capable of. If he could weave magic to objects, then having both him and Lord Dantrey here at the same time would be incredibly dangerous to them.

On the other hand they did, once again, only have the illusion of a choice. Because allowing this dangerous man in their midst or denying Tim the only possible solution for not dying to the curse that had almost taken Jason as a child? Not really something they had to think long and hard about.

That was another thing Tim had noticed in the last couple of days: The change between Danny being almost kind and then just plain cruel was startling, and Tim was yet to find a single indicator in his body posture or mimic for when the switch would happen.

If only he knew what he kept doing to cause such a switch. What he could do to change that behaviour. To prevent it.

"Right," Bruce all but forced himself to say casually, "Then I'll give my official approval for his travel here as the King."

Danny nodded at Bruce, a smile spreading on his lips. "Wonderful! Thank you so much, your highness, truly. Would you mind giving me that in writing? Our form of identification isn't valid here and he isn't as well-known as me, so I fear he might not be able to pass through the borders otherwise…"

Bruce looked like he had swallowed something sour. Tim couldn't hold it against the man, either. After all, it was sound logic again. There was nothing they could say against that. But to demand an official letter of recommendation from the king so casually? And even if that wasn't insulting, or if they didn't care about the insult, the implications of such a letter were worrying. There was a high risk that this mysterious friend could take advantage of it, after all. So asking for that instead of sending a letter to the posts to inform them…

And yet B managed to keep up his diplomatic mask. "I see. Then I will arrange that. When will your friend be able to arrive?"

"Hm? Oh." Danny blinked as though he hadn't expected that question. "He has Sojourn's blessing, so his travels are always very quick. If we send the letter now… He could be here tonight by dinner the earliest, I suppose?"

So they wouldn't get any time to prepare, then. Good to know.

Barbs, who apparently agreed that was too little time, narrowed her eyes at the High Chief almost imperceptibly. "That seems rather hasty, your majesty. Surely there's no reason to rush, is there?"

But Danny only shrugged. "It's pretty important this is done right. I'd like to get it done as fast as possible, that way we can make adjustments as needed later on. I mean, imagine something goes wrong. Prince Timothy's life would be in danger. I can't imagine you'd want that either. So I would really rather make sure this is done as quick as possible."

Something was squeezing Tim's heart and stoping the air from leaving his lunges. As he met Dick's shocked eyes, he felt as though someone had pulled the floor out from under him. There was a ringing in his ears and a suspicious sting in his eyes.

Danny had never bothered to so openly threaten Tim's life before. Until now, Tim could've almost fooled himself into thinking his fiancé was honestly kind.

What had changed? What had they done now to anger Danny enough to go this far? What if he got even angrier because they kept doing whatever it was they had done? Or, worse yet, what if he was so angry he would deny Tim even the small scraps of mercy he had been allowing him so far? Tim wasn't sure he could live without those, not when there had been so many mistakes they'd needed forgiving for already.

Scared and desperate to stop whatever was happening, Tim turned to Danny with the best smile he could muster. "Okay," he said, trying to hide how his voice shook, "Whatever you think is best. You know more about the Cursed Lands than we could ever hope to, after all."

When he turned to look back at Tim, Danny tilted his head as if in thought. Carefully, those glowing green eyes took Tim in. Whatever he was searching for, Tim hoped he didn't find any reason to get more angry.

The moment was broken, when Danny suddenly, casually cupped Tim's face in his hand. "You're pale," he observed, "Did I scare you?"

What did he want? A sweet lie or the truth? Then again, Tim imagined scaring Tim and his family had been Danny's intention. So he carefully leaned into Danny's hand and closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to keep seeing the way those glowing eyes seemed to look right into his soul. "A little," he admitted.

Behind his closed eyes, Danny hummed. His thumb caressed Tim's face as though to showcase to his family what Tim's place was. "I'm sorry about that." And he really did sound sorry. "I could have worded that more gentle, I suppose. Though traveling through the Cursed Lands without the proper preparations really is dangerous, nothing will happen. That's why my friend is coming, after all."

Opening his eyes again, Tim forced another smile and nodded. When he did, Danny smiled back to Tim's relief. "Feeling better?"

Knowing that Danny's anger had quelled and Tim's life wasn't just casually being used as a bargaining chip anymore? With the promise that he would be safe, now that they had agreed to Danny's terms? Absolutely.

"Yes, thank you," was what he said aloud.

Smiling at Tim, Danny released his face again but kept leaning into Tim's personal space. Tim, still feeling relieved and also yearning to return to that feeble affection he'd gotten used to from Danny, dared to lean against the High Chief. For a moment, Danny stilled and looked at Tim in surprise. But after the moment had passed, Danny huffed out an amused breath and put an arm around Tim, pulling him in a little closer.

"So?" Danny asked, turning his gaze back to B, who was watching them with a pained expression. Tim knew he'd seen how good Danny was at pulling at Tim's heartstrings already, and he couldn't bare to look at his father right now. So instead he bit his lip and looked at the table in front of him. Damian's knife was still laying there, right in the middle of them all. The blade was pointed at Bruce, Tim noticed absentmindedly. "Does this evening work for you, or should we push it back? Though, like I said, that would be a lot riskier for Prince Timothy."

"Oh, that's fine, then," Dick chimed in happily, ever the performer, "Like Timmy said: Whatever you think is best."

Danny nodded to Dick, but still turned back to B and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Yes." Bruce bit out, also doing his best to hide the emotion that must have been brewing underneath his skin, "That is agreeable."

"Is it?" Danny asked, eyebrows pinched. Oh no. What was wrong now? Had they hesitated too long, or had Dick's smile looked to forced? If only Danny would say what he wanted from them. It would make all of their lives so much easier. And for once, it looked like Danny agreed to Tim's mental pleas. Because he sighed and said: "You know, your majesty, sometimes you say something is alright with you and I really don't think it is. Are you sure you want us to agree on this evening? Because you don't look like it."

Clenching his jaw for a brief moment, B forced himself to relax and put on his best gala smile. "Yes, I'm sure," he drawled in a much more friendly tone than earlier, "I was concerned at the reminder of how perilous the journey ahead will be, is all. And sad at the reminder how soon you will leave Gotham, I suppose. No father wants to loose his child like this."

"You won't loose him," Danny argued with a smile and a shake of the head, "We're at peace now. You can visit us whenever you want. His siblings as well."

"Right," Bruce nodded, this time not managing to keep all the strain out of his voice. Tim couldn't even blame him for that, either. Not when there was a lump in his own throat.

Chapter Text

Tim had imagined their new guest to be wilding a weapon, maybe a sword. He had imagined they must be a battle mage, like Lord Dantrey. Perhaps they would have even trained under him.

Tim had not dared make assumptions too in depth, but he had at least imagined someone strong and muscular, had expected glowing eyes of red or green like all the residents of the Infinite Lands seemed to have, had thought of the pale skin only the barbarians in the north shared. Though meeting Danny and his brother, both of whom were pale, yes, but arguably not enough to resemble what was typical in the Lands, he had been prepared that to be untrue.

What Tim had not been prepared for or expected at all was the young man that arrived in the castle around five in the afternoon.

He did not look like he belonged to the Infinite Lands. The greyish-blue of his eyes might be bright, but it was by no means luminescent. His stature was not that of a fighter, either. He was lithe and even a bit shorter than Tim himself, but his muscles seemed to be those of a craftsman and not those of a fighter. And the markings in his face supported that theory: A bright, lively green, like grass almost, contrasted against skin only a shade or two lighter than Duke's. Unpolished amber, that was what Tim thought it looked like.

Simple but sturdy clothes made from leather and furs cleared up the misunderstanding of where he came from, along with the markings of what Tim thought he remembered to be those of a weaver. Beats made from different kinds of red stones, some glowing some familiar to Tim, were braided into his hair in small strands and made a soft noise as the young man kneeled before them.

"Your majesty, your highnesses," a somewhat raspy but still melodic voice greeted them respectfully.

Before any of the Gothamites could get over their shock at the normal appearance of the man before them, though, Danny already ran up to him and - kneeled himself? To hug him? It was a strange sight. Danny and all the people he brought had never, not once, lowered themselves. Not even into a bow. And yet here he was, the High Chief of the Infinite Lands, keeling on the palace floors, just because that would give him access to a hug of a man he claimed to be his friend.

This man must mean a lot to Danny, Tim realised in that moment. He must be very influential, if the High Chief treasured him so much.

He remembered Danny's threats earlier that day in Bruce's study. They had been awful and he had to suppress a shudder at the mere thought, but they also made a lot more sense now. Of course this man was important to Danny. Would he have ever risked breaking his facade otherwise? Tim should have realised sooner, really.

"Tuck…" Danny whispered, almost like a prayer, "I missed you."

And the man, Tuck, apparently, had the gall to push the High Chief away. And he succeded in doing so, even, which Tim knew would have been impossible if Danny didn't allow it to happen. He'd seen the kind of strength Danny's lean figure hid just below the surface.

"Danny," Tuck sighed, all but rolling his eyes at the High Chief, "My dude. My man. You're being dramatic."

"Oh, give the twerp a break, nerd-brain. You haven't seen each other in, what, a year?" Lord Dantrey came over, ruffling the hair of the still kneeling newcomer. Meanwhile Tim's brain spun. Twerp? Nerd-brain? He knew the older man could do that, of course, speaking casually and even disrespectfully about both Danny and his closest associates. Tim had witnessed it before, after all. But it was still an absurd thing to hear, even now.

Anyone else, Tim was sure, and they would have been dead by now. Slain by Danny's magic in a moment of wrath.

"Hm? Has it really been that long?" Tuck, who still made no effort to raise from his bow, tilted his head in thought. "Weird. Didn't I visit to bring you that enchanted chandelier?"

"Yes, a year ago," Lord Dantrey agreed, obviously amused. To Tim and his family he said with a shrug: "He tends to forget time when he's occupied with something that caught his fancy. Very similar to that idiot-" he pointed to his brother with a thumb over his shoulder, not bothering to acknowledge how the Gothamites all stiffened, "-though for the lord of nerds over there it's mostly an idea for some now gadget or another that he wants to make and perfect while the prime idiot gets distracted by either his own thoughts, an obligation or task, or by a project he decided to work on in the middle of the night."

"And who disappeared for two months without a word because he heard rumours about a strong monster and thought it'd be fun to try and fight that, again?" Danny asked Lord Dantrey with a pout and a slight blush as he stood again. "Because I remember that being neither of us two."

"Ah." Lord Dantrey nodded thoughtfully. "I guess I do grow from the same roots. Though that escapade wasn't even worth it - that lindworm was surprisingly weak."

Would Tim loose all common sense living in the Infinite Lands, he wondered as he listened to Lord Dantrey's put out sigh. Those Lands seemed to be freed from the burden of logic, after all.

Forcing a smile and a small laugh, Tim stepped forward. "I'm sorry for the chaos," he addressed their new guest, "Please, rise. I am Prince Timothy, the third prince. You must be the skilled friend Danny has told us about. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Suddenly a lot more stiff, Tuck nodded and bowed his head again. "Yup- Er, I mean. Yes, your highness. My name is Tucker Foley, I am an Alchemist in the Infinite Lands. As my markings may have shown, I am of clan Phoenix, too. It's an honour to meet your royal highness."

Judging by the frown etched onto his fiancé's face, Tim probably shouldn't allow this to continue. So he offered a hand to Tucker. "Please, rise. And you needn't speak so formally to me. Danny and I are to be wed soon, and you are a trusted friend of his. Doesn't that make us close by association, too, in a way?"

Marvelling at the hand offered to him, Tucker gingerly took it and rose to his feet. With a smile that reminded him somewhat of Danny with how unhinged it looked if Tim looked too closely, he nodded. "Well, it does mean we're about to become members of the same clan, at least."

The same clan?

Oh! He'd been so distracted by the green color of the markings that he hadn't even noticed their design. It was strikingly similar to that both Danny and Lord Dantrey wore. There were some slight differences. Instead of the snowflakes under his eyes, he wore six spiky lines that went down to his cheek bone. A straight line on his chin was added as well. Still, the placement, the angles and the width were all the same. It was obviously meant to be similar.

"Ah," he said, apparently having noticed Tim's gaze, and tapped his face. "Sam and me joined Danny's clan before he added any siblings to his family. So we still use the original design. Only Danny and his siblings use the one with the snowflakes."

Huh. Good to know. Now, if only Tim knew what the difference between a clan and a family was… So far, he'd assumed they were the same. By the way Danny and Lord Dantrey had talked about it, it sure had sounded like they talked about family whenever they talked about their clan, so he'd just assumed they used the terms interchangeably. But with the way Tucker emphasised the word clan and how he talked about Danny's family like he had nothing to do with it, well, that made it sound like there was some difference at least.

"Thank you for clearing that up," Tim said, hiding his ever growing questions behind a smile.

"Oh, no problem, highness." Tucker waved his hand as though to dispel the words. "I know both brothers can be a bit… dense sometimes, so I figure they haven't told you any of the things you would need to know once you come live with us. So if they confuse you, feel free to talk to me anytime. I remember what it was like when I moved to the Lands to join Danny - I love my clan, I really do, but they're terrible at helping you adjust. Their common sense just… isn't that common."

"My common sense is perfectly and utterly fine, thank you very much!" Danny actually seemed to have taken offence to that. Huh. That was a first, at least when the words came from his entourage. Good to know. Tim made sure to file that information away carefully in his memory, so he wouldn't make the same misstep.

But Tucker Foley was a much braver man than Tim could ever hope to be. Because even though he had obviously broken some unspoken rule, had very obviously crossed some line in the sand, he still dared to scoff at Danny. "Yes, yes, sure." Smirking, he turned to Tim. He didn't even bother to lower his voice when he told him: "We both know he doesn't really, though."

Behind Tucker, Danny actually narrowed his eyes into a glare. Oh, gods! Nervously, he let out a laugh. "Oh, I can't say I noticed something along the lines…" He had. Multiple times. "But I suppose if you say so, it must be true. You do know Danny a lot better than I do, after all."

For a moment Tucker only blinked at Tim, then snorted as he held a hand in front of his mouth, very obviously trying to hide a laugh. "Excuse me." He cleared his throat. Then, he turned to Danny. "I like him. He's funny."

Tim wasn't sure whether he should be insulted or relived by that statement. He did know, however, that he was incredibly happy to see Danny's gaze melt into something soft and proud. "I know. I was very lucky."

Tucker's own smile softened as well. "I'm glad," he said quietly, almost under his breath. Then, suddenly he clapped his hands. "Well, then. Even with the risk of being rude here, I think that's enough dilly dallying. Because in account of the quickly approaching wedding date, I would really like to get started. I'd like to make sure everything works just right in time, after all. Could you show me to the carriage I'm supposed to work on now? I promise I'll take good care of her."

"Actually, I know which one it is," Danny chimed in. It was true, he had asked Tim to show him shortly before they heard about Tucker arriving. But why would he want to show his friend to the carriage himself? Shouldn't Tim have done that? It was his carriage and safety this was about, after all. Wasn't it? "Let me take you there. I'd like to talk to you, anyways."

Ah. So there really had been ulterior motives to bringing Tucker in. Not that Tim had ever doubted that, but it was surprising to have it confirmed so boldly. Tucker seemed to think the same way, too. Because he looked at Danny thoughtfully, even while he nodded. "Right… Let's talk on the way there, then."

But Danny shook his head. "No. The trees carry whispers. Let's wait until we're truly alone."

Tim barely noticed the two of them leaving. All he could wrap his mind around was that Danny had just admitted to knowing that talking around the plants wasn't safe. He had just confirmed the worries Barbs had shared just this morning.

Danny knew about Barbara's blessing.

No, worse yet: Danny knew they had been spying on him.

Danny was really happy to see Tucker. It'd been ages. He always missed him and Sam, ever since the two of them had moved out of the keep. Especially Sam, who was still angry and/or petty enough to not even answer his letters.

He knew why they had left, of course. He understood.

He'd made a mistake. He had been so occupied with Sam being physically weak despite her strong blessing, and with Tucker being resistant to the magic of the Infinite Lands that he'd forgotten to ask what they wanted. He'd made decisions for them. He hadn't told them about things even when it directly involved them, especially not when it involved them.

He'd been a bad friend.

It'd been from a place of love. He had wanted to protect the two of them. He had wanted to know them safe, even from their own worries. In the end, he had only driven them away. And while he knew that they understood his intentions, he also understood that he'd hurt them.

He knew Tucker and Sam were still his friends, his clan. Nothing could ever change that, not after everything they'd been through together. But that didn't mean they didn't need their distance after what had happened.

Danny was okay giving them that distance. He knew Sam was only ignoring him out of spite by now, not out of actual anger. He knew Tucker only forgot to answer and visit sometimes, that he came to visit whenever Sam had asked him to check in on Danny for her. The distance still hurt, though.

He was a protector. His magic came from that drive to know the people he loved safe. Not having them right by his side was… hard. Harder than he knew either of them understood, or else they would have moved back into the keep long ago. But at the same time he was okay with the discomfort it caused him. He knew Sam was as safe as could be under Undergrowth's protection and Tucker was safe and sound living with Technus and doing what he loved, after all. Besides, if that made up for his prior mistakes, if that was what the two of them needed to feel comfortable after Danny had turned so incredibly unbearably overprotective in an unfounded fear of loosing them again, then that was that.

And still. Having Tucker here at last, right by his side where he could see him, where he could hug and protect him himself, was like Lumenvine salve on a fresh burn: Healing, soothing, and taking the pain away with its magic.

But that wasn't why he had asked to be the one to accompany him to where the carriage had been prepared.

Once the door closed and they were alone, he turned to Tucker. "Tuck…" he started nervously, "You lived in Star for a while longer than me. And Elle always says you're way better at understanding social cues than me or Dan."

Tucker turned to him as well, frowning a little in worry. "Well, yeah. After Amity, my family moved further south with the Mansons. They're barons, after all, so they could afford to abandon ship when all of that went down and take some of the staff with them. And, well, no offence but it's kind of really easy to be better at reading social cues than any of you siblings. Except for maybe Ja-mph."

Quickly, instinctually, Danny leapt forward to muffle Tucker with his hands. "Don't say her name!" Surprised by his own reaction, he lowered his hand agains with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Just… Don't. Please. If anyone finds out about her…"

"She's a knight, Danny. And she's tough as nails. Are you really going to make your entire clan spend all their lives pretending she doesn't exist, because she might be in danger if people find out?"

Glaring right back at the annoyed expression Tucker gave him, Danny nodded. "If that's what it takes. She agreed, too! If the people of Amity found out…"

Sighing, Tucker nodded. "Alright, that is true. And Dan's faction, too. They're as ruthless as he is. Again, my man, no offence."

Shaking his head, Danny sighed. "No, no. You're right. It's still a work in progress. But he's making great progress lately. Did you hear? He actually gave up one of his potions for King Oliver when the man said he had to leave the conference earlier due to some pain."

Danny took great pride in the way Tucker looked actually impressed by that. "Dude, that's huge! Seriously? You must be so proud! But… Are you alright? If the king of Star was there…"

Swallowing to keep the tears away, Danny nodded. "Yeah. I… It was tough. But, he is hale and healthy, except for that ache that had him return home, ad he seems to have grown up a lot. He's very responsible now. I think he is a good king."

"He would be. Considering he's your kin." Tucker smirked, brushing his shoulder against Danny's. "But, damn. He was hurting and you didn't overreact? Looks like Dan's not the only one making progress here, huh?"

Rolling his eyes but laughing, Danny pushed away a bit. "Ha, ha, Tuck." Then, Danny took a deep breath and looked Tucker in his eyes. "But, seriously. I need your help."

"Sure." Tuck was serious again, too. "What's wrong?"

"Well… Prince Timothy-"

"Prince Timothy? Doesn't he call you Danny?"

Sighing again as Tucker interrupted him, Danny nodded. "I gave him my name. He didn't give me his yet. Only introduced himself like that when we first met, before getting engaged."

"I see…" Tucker looked like someone had just insulted Cujo. Danny wasn't sure why.

"Right," Danny continued, deciding that he didn't need to understand. This was Tucker. If it was important, Danny knew he would tell him. Spell it out, even, if he had to. "Anyways, he's always smiling. And he's really good at it. So I can't tell when it's not real. And his father's even worse! Sometimes he says things he doesn't mean. Or just changes the topic. I… I feel like he doesn't really tell me when something bothers him, you know? And I'm not sure what to do about it…"

"Well, have you tried talking to him about it?"

Ouch. Warranted, but ouch. Still. "I did. Just today. I asked him whether he was sure, because he really looked like he wanted to say no. And if even I notice, that has to be really obvious, right? But he told me it was fine, and that it was about something else. So I don't know."

"Alright… And what do you want me to do about that?" Tucker looked at Danny, one eyebrow raised and a hand to his hip. "It's not like I know any of the royal family of Gotham, either."

"No, but you do know the culture better. So, I was hoping you could… have an eye out? When you see them? And tell me what you think. Maybe I'm reading into it too much…"

"Judging by the fact that it's you, Danny, I think you're more likely to be unterreacting, actually. But, sure. I'll tell you if I notice anything. Not that I'll be talking to the prince a lot, I've got more than enough to do here. And speaking of my work here…"

"Ah! Right. Here." Danny took Tucker's hand to lead him to the carriage King Bruce had prepared for Prince Timothy.

"Oh," Tucker breathed when he saw it, "She's beautiful."

Danny wasn't sure, since he knew basically nothing about carriages, but decided to just agree. He trusted Tucker's judgement, after all.

Chapter Text

"Baking?"

Dan nodded, showing off the glass jar Elle had send him. "Yes! I got my hands on the emberroot we needed, and now we can make Flame's Tears. You said you wanted to try them, right?"

Prince Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did. But I didn't expect us to be making them."

Oh. Dan tried not to let his disappointment show. "You don't want to?"

"Nah," the prince answered, shaking his head, "I was just surprised. And you want to make them now?"

Excited again, and incredibly happy that he could not only show the prince his favourite recipe but also spend more time with him, which Dan had found was always a sweet treat, he nodded. "Of course! Otherwise they won't be ready in time for dinner. So! Do you have a stone oven handy?"

"Yes…?" The prince seemed to think about something before giving a more definite nod, smiling at Dan and starting to lead the way. Dan, of course, followed. "Yes. We do, actually. There's one in the family wing, I use it sometimes. No one else really does, so we shouldn't be in the way there."

"That's perfect!" And it really was. Dan hadn't even considered their sudden baking session might be in the way for the staff.

Back home it was easier. Everyone cooked together at set times, so he could use the kitchen every day without thought. And since the others would grab a quick snack at most, he never had to fear to disturb anyone. Though, of course, it would always end with the kitchen full of their clan. They would come join him, drawn in by the sweet smell and staying for what the twerp would call the "magic of the rare smile of Dan".

He loved that, too. Doing what he loved, a hobby he had found all by himself that he didn't share with his original of a brother nor with his niece of a sister, while being surrounded by the people he loved, his clan, the only people whose opinion of him mattered in the end. The ones who would always believe in him, even when he forgot how to do it himself. The ones who loved and cherished him back, had accepted him into their fold. He could never get enough of the feeling of getting to do what he wanted with everything he wanted to protect and provide for surrounding him.

Baking with the prince wouldn't be the same as back home. But he could still share this intimate, precious thing with the other man. And he found that he wanted nothing more than that.

The prince was strong, determined, fierce and protective. But he was also kind, and considerate, and loyal, and patient, and hungry for books and knowledge. Every time they ended up doing something together, whether that was fighting or looking around the gardens or just talking, Dan found himself drawn in by him. He found himself wanting to spend more and more time together with the prince.

It was too bad that the moon of Sojour had ended by now, and the moon of Gróða had just begun. It wasn't long until the solstice at the 25th anymore. They would have to leave in about two weeks to make it. Soon, Dan would have to leave the prince behind. Though he ached to return home, he also ached knowing he wouldn't be able to bask in the prince's presence forever.

What was the date in the southern calendar, again? Dan could never remember. Both Danny and Elle were better at converting the dates than he was.

Oh, well. No use thinking about all of that right now. Instead, he should focus on getting to bake with the one and only Prince Jason.

"This is it," the prince in question mentioned, gesturing to the absolutely beautiful kitchen beyond the door he stopped at. Shelves stacked with different ingredients, wide surfaces to work on, an array of bowls and cups neatly stacked in door-less cupboards, all of it cleaned throughly and bathed in the light that streamed in through a large set of windows. Different herbs hung in front of the window to dry, and a pristine stone oven, as well as a clearly loved and well-cared-for hearth and stove took up the southernmost wall. It was like a dream come true, really.

"It's beautiful," Dan said once he was done marvelling, sad that he wasn't as good as Elle at describing how he felt about such sights. "Who set all of this up? They must really know what they're doing."

"Oh." The prince cleared his throat, cheeks suddenly a little red. "That… would be me, actually. Like I said, I cook sometimes. When I'm stressed. So, this isn't really my space, but I'm the one who mostly uses it, so."

Humming in appreciation, Dan took another look around. "I can tell how much work you've put into it. I wish we could have something as nice back home."

"You can't?"

Dan scoffed at the thought. "No. We have Danny and Elle running around in the keep. I love my siblings, really, I do. But we can't have nice things with their… with their everything, I guess."

Being able to startle a laugh from the prince's lips with that felt like a victory. Not quite as adrenaline inducing as slaying a wyvern, but definitely just as rewarding. It was a nice sound, after all. Almost as nice as the roaring of magic during a solstice. Though that might just be the Shadowborn in him talking.

"I know what that's like, alright. Siblings, huh?"

"Siblings," Dan agreed with a smirk, "The bane of and reason for my continued existence."

"Hear, hear." Prince Jason laughed again, shaking his head. "I suppose that's the same no matter where you look, huh?"

"Must be," Dan shrugged. Then, not wanting to end that line of talking but also so very excited to share his favourite recipe all the same, he clapped his hands. "Well, then. Let's begin, I guess?" He got a nod and a nervous smile from the prince back. Cute. Fierce and cute. "If you don't mind, would you preheat the oven for us, then? I'll get everything set up over here in the meantime."

"Sure, can do," the prince nodded and once Dan nodded back, the two of them got to it.

Dan only noticed a little bit how deft the prince was when he placed the wood and lit the flame. He was much too occupied searching for a whisk, a couple of bowls, a sheet and enough different size spoons. Now, what else would they need? Dan had brought the honey, the emberroot and the korraja powder. Then they would need eggs, corse-ground flour, sugar, salt, milk, vinegar and butter from here. Fortunately, Dan managed to find all of it without making too big of a fool of himself.

Unfortunately, the prince watched him from a bit away with an obviously amused smirk as he turned and walked around, trying to find things and too proud to ask.

Once he was done, Dan took a step back to mentally count everything. Just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Nodding once, he then turned to the prince. "That's everything we'll need. Would you mixing on the dries? That way I can start on mixing honey and butter. That… always takes a while." Dan winced, remembering how long it'd taken him the first couple of times. He'd even gotten sore muscles from that! Though he'd gotten better at it by now, he'd like to think.

"Sure thing. What exactly am I mixing, though?" the prince asked, looking between the different ingredients.

Dan smiled at him, happy that they'd managed to split up the first of the tasks without issue. It never worked that well on the rare occasions he would bake something together with his clan - everyone would start fighting. It was exhausting, honestly. Took longer than making the batter itself, really.

"Four cups of coarse-ground flour," he started to instruct while he measure a cup of butter and a cup of honey himself, waiting after each ingredient until the prince was done before he continued, "Two small spoons of baking soda. Half a small spoon of salt. And four tablespoons of korraja powder."

On the last ingredient, the prince hesitated, looking up at Dan in adorable confusion. "What powder?"

"Korraja. It's that black powder over there," Dan answered as he kept trying to get the butter and the honey to make a smooth mixture. "It's similar to cocoa powder, I guess. But spicier. Think of it as the magic resistant cousin that only grows in the Lands. And, well, the only one of its kind that grows in the Lands, really. The ground's not really made for most plants." Dan shrugged. "Wanna try it?"

Prince Jason looked at Dan for a few seconds before he slowly, cautiously, dipped his finger into the jar of korraja and placed it on his tongue. "Huh. Tastes like chocolate with a hint of… nutmeg?"

"Yup. Four tablespoons."

Prince Jason complied, and then used his spoon to stir the dry ingredients together. When he was done, Dan still wasn't ready with the butter and honey. His arm was getting tired, too. And honestly, this would be the point at which he would take a moment to shake our his arm or maybe even take a break. But, by the Ancients, he sure wouldn't do that in his highness's presence. He couldn't let himself look weak!

Especially since he felt the prince's eyes on him as he kept stirring. "How long do you have to do that?" he finally asked softly, taking a couple of steps closer to Dan.

"Huh?" He blinked, finally registering the question. "Oh. Until it's smooth. Always takes a bit."

"I bet. Stirring anything into butter alone is always a bother. I like to make buttercream, so I'd know." The prince sighed like a man who truly understood the pains of getting butter to become a sooth paste. Between his surprise about that and him quietly wondering what buttercream was, Dan didn't even notice he was done until the prince pointed and asked: "D'ya figure that's enough?"

He stubbornly gave it two more stirs, just to make it look like he'd been paying attention after all. "Guess so."

Placing the bowl down, he flexed his fingers and finally shook out his arm. "Yeah," he heard the prince chuckle next to him, "I know that feeling. So… What next?"

Humming as he cracked two eggs into his own bowl, Dan thought about it. "You could… sour the milk? Vinegar's over there-" he pointed "-and we'll need a cup of soured milk."

"Soured milk?" The prince blinked at Dan in surprise, then smiled nervously. "How do you do that?"

"You just…" Surprised that the prince didn't know, Dan left his bowl and came over to demonstrate. "Measure the milk, add about a small spoon of vinegar to the milk, stir it and wait a couple minutes. You've never done that?"

"No." Prince Jason slowly shook his head.

"Huh." Soured milk was a pretty common ingredient in the Lands, so Dan hadn't even considered the possibility of someone not knowing what it was or how to make it. That was certainly new. Unsure how to react to finding out, he helplessly shrugged. "Well. Do you want to try the emberroot while this sits?"

That was stupid. Dan was saying stupid things again. Seriously, he was much smarter when the prince wasn't around. He really was! But Prince Jason had a talent both for distracting Dan and for catching him off guard.

When you fight someone, you see their heart and their soul. And when you fight someone worthy, your heart will remember them. That's what Pandora had told him once or twice before. Possibly more often than that, too, but Dan tended to zone out when she started talking about pointless things again. Like morality or matter of the heart.

They didn't seem to pointless now, and Dan found himself wishing he'd payed attention for possibly the first time ever.

He also found himself wondering whether this was what Pan had meant when she'd said that. Because Prince Jason had definitely been more than a worthy opponent, and Dan felt something weird growing in his heart with every time he managed to spend more time with him.

He knew he admired the prince. He knew he cared for him and he was pretty sure he liked the other man well enough. But he thought there might be another feeling, one he didn't know.

Urgh. New feelings. The bane of Dan's existence. It was just so unnecessarily hard to make them out. Was he sick? Had his heart learned yet another human emotion? He never knew, and it bothered him. And then! Then he would have to try and parcel out what that feeling was feeling like in the first place and why he was feeling it and how much he was feeling it and what that meant and-

Look. He liked being able to feel stuff now. It was nice. Made him feel like more of a person and less of a monster. And feelings were nice in general, too, even the painful ones. It was like a drug, sometimes, all those different feelings in his soul that he hadn't even known were possible before Danny had shown him how to have emotions. Just… They were so difficult to parcel out and so weird to understand.

And Dan was not above whining about it.

Still, he might write a letter to Jazz. Secretly. Without Danny knowing, since he technically wasn't supposed to interact with her for her safety and stuff. But she was a genius when it came to feelings, and she might be able to help him with this. She always did when he first started out learning new feelings. Said she'd always be available, too.

And when the prince allowed Dan to sprinkle a dash of emberroot on his tongue, apparently not minding how stupid Dan was being at all, the feeling swelled again. So he should probably try and figure it out now, since this was such a persistent one.

He could tell that the feeling tilted somewhere close to embarrassed when he saw how Prince Jason's turquoise eyes widened in wonder. "It feels warm," he noted.

"Yes," Dan nodded, grinning as he felt like he'd won something with that reaction, "Emberroot also gives anything and everything a rich, red colour if you add it. That's where the flame part of the name comes from: They feel comfortably warm on your tongue and in your stomach, and they're red."

"And it doesn't feel too warm when you add too much?" Prince Jason asked, lips tilted in a suspicious frown and eyes looking at the spice intensely.

"No," Dan answered, shaking his head. He picked up another small spoon and measured two of them into the bowl. "The warm feeling stays the same, no matter how much or how little you add. Frostbite says it might draw from your emotions, but no matter how it does it in the end the result's still the same: It makes you feel warm and comfortable." Snorting as he remembered another detail, Dan conspiratorially added: "Danny likes to add honey and emberroot into warm milk in the winter, even though the twerp can't even feel cold. Says it makes him feel at home."

Or sometimes, when he missed his first clan too badly, he would add a dash of the spice to everything he ate or drank. It was ridiculous, and when you thought about it too deeply a bit sad and pathetic. But Dan decided he probably shouldn't share that much about his brother's culinary habits regarding comfort, and left it at that.

The prince hummed as he watched Dan stir the dough. The egg made it wetter this time, easier to stir. He seemed to contemplate the image and a small smile worked its ways into the corners of his lips. "I suppose even the feared High Chief likes to cozy up, huh?"

At that, Dan couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Danny's actually not half as though as they give him credit for. He's squeamish, he hates taking a life and he absolutely abhors forcing people's hands. But he's thick headed and he works for the future. He does what he has to, no matter how many nights he spends sleepless about it. Always has."

Dan could feel the prince's eyes on him and looked up. There was something unreadable in that gaze. If Dan was emotionally smarter, he might have been able to tell what it was. But all he could tell was that it wasn't a nice thought the prince was thinking.

"He sure doesn't act like that is true," the prince accused quietly after a while.

And Dan understood. It must've been a shock to hear any of that, to hear Dan talking about his brother that way. He knew they were much more rigid about that stuff here in the South. Someone, anyone, even family talking about the ruler like that must've still felt weird or insubordinate to the prince. And also, hearing that the ruler who'd single handedly taken down the tyrant who'd hurt all of them so badly was actually nothing like the courageous, mighty, steel-hearted warrior the stories made him out to be? That must've been an uncomfortable thought. Disappointing even, perhaps.

Still. "He doesn't act like it," Dan admitted just as quietly, "because he can't let himself. He took the throne by force, after a rebellion he led. He has the support and their trust, but they all still see him as Phantom who had decided what was right and never wavered in his decision. Who would mourn the price he had to pay but wouldn't let that be a deterrent. So he can't start wavering now. After all, in their eyes he stands for something. He stands for fighting with only the greater good in mind."

"Sounds… harsh."

"It is." Dan sighed, giving a tired smile. "That's why he never wanted to become the High Chief."

"He didn't?" Dan shook his head at the prince's surprised voice, motioning for him to pass the bowl with the dry ingredients. "Then why did he?"

"That's-" Dan had to interrupt himself, noticing only now how much he'd already divulged. Talking to Prince Jason was so easy that he hadn't been careful about what he was saying at all. And he trusted the prince, at least enough to let him know this much. But he also knew that Danny wouldn't want that. So he only sighed and smiled. "That is a story best told by Danny himself, I think. Let's just say the Infinite Lands made that decision for him."

"Made the decision for him? What does that-"

"I'm sorry," Dan said, averting his eyes and busying his hands by adding the dry ingredients and the soured milk into the dough, little by little. "But that's not my story to tell."

The prince frowned at that. It was obvious he wasn't happy with that answer at all. But when all Dan did was finish up the cookie dough, he finally gave up. "I see," he sighed, "Nothin' for it, then, I s'pose."

Feeling bad about the sudden stone walling, Dan gave a wry smile. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry, your highness. I understand why you would be curious, but…"

"It's alright, I get it," the prince in question waved away Dan's apology with a flippant hand, leaning onto the counter they were working on. "And… Well. Just Jason's fine."

It surprised Dan enough that he almost dropped the entire bowl on the floor. He did actually choke, however. "What?"

"Y'heard me." Prince Jason shrugged, not looking at Dan at all. "Just… We spend a lot of time together, alright? And… Damnit. I kinda actually like you." He scoffed, still looking at the wall in front of him rather than at Dan. "Who would've thought, right?"

And that was… Wow. Not only did he get the prince's first name, he even got it before Danny got his own fiancé to do the same. But regardless of that, being offered the name by someone as cute and brave and strong as the second prince? Wow. Just… Wow. Dan wasn't sure what he should say.

He also wasn't sure whether he should accept. It send a sharp pain through his chest, which he recognised as guilt. After all, he was still keeping so many secrets from him. On Danny's orders he hadn't told him that he wasn't actually cursed, nor what had led to the blessing he got, and not even about the revelation he and Danny had had during their fight. The latter of those concerned him the most.

How could he accept such a show of trust, after all, when he didn't even tell the prince about that? When it was so important for him to know, too? When it changed everything? He didn't even know that he was…

Danny had asked Dan to wait. And Dan had waited. For over a week now. Wasn't that enough? He really wanted to accept the offer, but what if he told the prince now and he would come to regret allowing Dan to call him by his given name? That had been what'd happened with Iver, after all. And now it was too late to take it back. Because even though Dan aly used his chosen name out of respect, Dan was in his right to call him by his given name at any point in time.

What if the prince would be the same? What if he, too, would come to resent Dan? It wouldn't be fair.

So Dan carefully put down the bowl and turned to look at the prince, waiting until the other man met his gaze. "I'm honoured. And I would like nothing more. But… Before I accept, there is something I have to do." He would ask Danny for permission to talk about it. He would beg if he had to. "If you feel the same by tomorrow morning, please offer again. I just ask you wait until then, in case you change your mind after what will happen tonight."

He was met by an understandably suspicious frown. "What will happen tonight?"

Dan contemplated for a moment, then sighed. "There is something my brother asked me not to tell you. I'm afraid you might resent me for keeping it from you. I'll ask for his permission to tell you."

The suspicion didn't leave for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the prince's shoulders slumped in what looked like defeat. "A man of many secrets, that brother of yours. Huh?"

Of many meticulously but needlessly kept secrets, but yeah. "I suppose he is. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunate, indeed." The prince hummed, looking back up at Dan. He considered him for a moment, then gave another wry smirk. "So… What do we do next?"

"Hm?" It took a moment for Dan to keep up with the sudden change in topic, that he meant the cookies. It took the prince pointing at them, actually, for him to understand. Once he did, he gave the prince a relieved smile. "We only have to scoop them up like this-" He took a spoon and scooped a bit of the dough on it, using a second spoon to get it off and have it fall onto the baking sheet. "Then we sprinkle a bit of corse sugar on it. It melts and caramelises while we bake them, and when they dry they look like little water drops. That's where the tear part comes from."

"Hm… Can I try?" Dan was pretty sure that smirk he got could be used as a weapon in battle. Right here, in the Wayne Castle's kitchen within the royal family's wing, it allowed Dan to put aside the last of his guilt, even for just the moment.

So he nodded at the prince, passing both spoons over. "Sure!"

Chapter Text

"Good news, I managed to get the phoenix ore coating done on all four tires. Bad news, I didn't even manage to start on the enchantments yet. Not even the one to make sure the coating doesn't come off." Tucker frowned as he let himself fall into his chair at Danny's side. "Though I did manage to brew the fixture potion and charge the everglowing ink. I know what runes I'll probably need, too, so I think I'll get started on that either sometime tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Think you'll be done in time?" Danny asked curiously and just a little worried as he sat down himself. They were almost the last ones to arrive. Only Dan and Prince Jason were still missing. Turning away from Tucker while he thought about Danny's question, Danny gave his fiancé a smile. The smile he got back was as brilliant as always.

"I know I'll be done with the first version by tomorrow noon. It's the adjustments I'm worried about. Those might take a while. You know how willful carriages can be. And I think we'll need a couple of extras, considering."

Ah. That was true, actually. Tim wasn't used to the cold of the Infinite Lands, much less the cold of a night in the Cursed Lands. And the carriage was good quality, high end, with state of the art cushioning. Driving that through the desert without risking to either give Tim motion sickness or, worse yet, risk having a wheel stuck in the sand would prove a challenge.

Not for the first time Danny was glad that King Bruce had allowed Tuck to come so quickly.

"Do whatever you have to. Add features to your best conscience. Do you have all the materials you need?"

Thinking again, Tucker leaned back in his chair. He hummed softly. "I think so, yes. Hard to say before I start on the actual adjustments. Could be that something will come up later… Can I borrow Cujo if that happens?"

"Always!" Danny nodded, smiling at his friend. "You're going to ask Elle to send you what you need?"

To his surprise, Tucker shook his head. "Nah, I brought enough raw materials. If I do end up needing something it'll probably either be something so specific Elle wouldn't be able to find it, or some of that magic plants that are way too hard to find. So it'll either be Nicolai or Sam."

"Chief Technus? No way, he actually shares his materials with you?" When he heard his brother's voice, Danny turned to the entrance where Dan came in, followed by Prince Jason. The two of them were spending an awful lot of time together ever since their duel, huh?

"Of course he does! I'm not only his best student but also happen to be his successor," Tuck bragged next to him, while Danny was more focused on what Dan was holding in his hands. Was that…? "He's like my weird, crazy genius uncle."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You get to lead the capital of creation one day, all the Weavers love you, you're incredibly brilliant, yada, yada." Dan rolled his eyes, sitting down. When he did, he placed the plate he'd held in his hands on the table. And now Danny could see that he'd been right.

Huh.

Before Tuck could retaliate to Dan's sarcasm and it could escalate into another play fight like the one this morning, Danny pointed at the plate. "And what's that?"

"Flame's Tears," Dan said as though he'd said duh. "I would've thought you'd recognised them. But, no. That's only the desert I make the most."

Now it was Danny's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, Dan, I can see that. But why do you have Flame's Tears?"

Raising an eyebrow, Dan now looked at Danny as though he was stupid. "Because I made them?"

"And why did you suddenly decide to make them?"

Dan sighed. "So we could eat them, obviously. What's gotten into you? What's all those questions about? Prince Jason and I talked about them, he was curious, so we made them for everyone. It's not that strange, brother."

It was. It was that strange. Because Dan was impatient at the best of times, and when he was baking his fuse was as short as it got. Shorter than on the battlefield, really. People could look, sure, but baking together? The last time they'd tried that, Dan had all but blown up the kitchen trying to get him and Elle out.

Or, well, maybe he'd almost blown up what was left of the kitchen after Danny had somehow managed to blow up the oven. He still wasn't sure how that'd happened.

Point is! Dan did not let anyone help him bake. And he especially did not bake together with someone. Prince Jason didn't look cowed either. So Dan had actually baked together with the other man, and had done so without getting overly annoyed or angry.

"Huh," Danny let out, looking between Dan and the prince for another moment. Then, he turned to Tuck. "Would you have thought we'd see the day? Pandora's actually whispering in his ear."

Tucker, who had looked just as confused by Danny's reaction as Dan, suddenly gasped in understanding. He glanced, very unsubtly, between their clan-mate and the Gothamite prince for a moment, then gaped at Danny. "I see it. Ancients, that's new!"

"Right?" Danny snickered, then looked back at his speechless brother. "Good for you!"

"Wha-" Dan blinked, indignantly crossing his arms over his chest. "How did you come to that conclusion? That's stupid, even for you."

"Ah," Tucker nodded, "Pandora is whispering, but Dan's not listening. Should have seen that coming."

Remembering how Dan had fallen asleep the last time they'd had tea with Pandora and the conversation had strayed away from battle tactics, Danny couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, we should have."

"It's just a figure of speech," the brother in question answered to the confused expression of what seemed to be his first love, "They're being idiots, is all. Danny only thinks it's funny because when we meet up with Pan, I actually do have better things to do than to listen to her ramble about pointless things."

"Well, I am right, though. I know you enough to tell." Danny shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Even if you were right," Dan deadpanned, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk, "I don't think you're the one to talk. After all he-" Dan pointed at Prince Timothy with a lazy gesture "-obviously holds your sword."

Gaping at that, Danny immediately shook his head. "He does not!"

"Oh, no, he does," Tuck casually intervened, like a traitor, "I can absolutely second that, and I haven't even seen him much yet."

Throwing his arms in the air, Danny scoffed. "Exactly. So it's obvious you couldn't tell! And you, brother, are just plain wrong."

"Oh, no, trust me, I can." Tucker waved his index finger under Danny's nose. "This is Val all over again. Or Paulina. Or Sam. Or Kwan."

Danny sighed, feeling his face heat up. "Tuck, please. Don't bring my pat mistakes into this. Besides, when all of that happened I was young and stupid, so-"

When he felt a hand on his arm, Danny interrupted himself to give his attention to Prince Timothy, ignoring how he was not helping his case with the action. The prince smiled at Danny nervously, eyebrows drawn together slightly. "Danny? What does that mean?"

Feeling his blush deepen at the realisation that he'd just been teased for how his fiancé had him wrapped around his finger in front of the prince in question, Danny looked away. At least the prince didn't know what it meant, seeing as they used some other idiom here than they did in the Lands. Small mercies. "Oh," Danny answered non-committaly, "Just another saying, really. Don't worry about it, it's not important. I promise."

Prince Timothy did not look very convinced, but he nodded at let it go. Fortunately. Smiling at his fiancé, Danny took the hand still resting on his arm into his own, interlinking their fingers. "But enough about that. What did you do all day? I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Oh." The Prince's smile turned into a grimace for just a seconds. So quickly that Danny would've thought he'd imagined it if not for the way the hand in his tightened ever so slightly. "I wasn't aware you were looking for me… If I'd known I would've come."

But Danny waved the worried look the prince wore away. "It's fine, it wasn't anything important. I just noticed it was the first time in a while we didn't have afternoon tea together, is all. I hadn't realised, but I think it's grown into a habit for me."

"Now that you say it, yes. It has been a while," the prince nodded, finally relaxing again. "As for your question, I was actually checking on the wedding preparations. There's not much time left, so I wanted to make sure everything was in order."

Oh. Now that he mentioned it, that was true. Danny had known the wedding was almost here, of course. But he hadn't even thought about how neither the prince nor Danny had gotten involved with those preparations so far. Had he kept the prince from it? Or should he have sought out the people responsible for it himself and gotten more involved? What was the Southern etiquette for that anyways? And who was the one preparing their wedding. Alfred? King Bruce? Someone else entirely? Or all three?

It was a bit pathetic, Danny noticed now, that he had no idea. And no idea what even was planed.

Giving an apologetic smile, Danny decided to admit to his ignorance: "Now that you mention it, how is the ceremony going to go? I can't say I'm too knowledgable about your customs…"

"You don't know?" The prince seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh, my apologies. That wasn't meant to be an accusation. Just… During the negotiations it sounded like you knew. Seeing how you spoke of the differences in our customs…"

Ah. Danny could see how that would've lead to a misunderstanding. He shook his head. "Not really, I only know a little. Some general things, and only about weddings in Star Kingdom. And that the customs are similar in the rest of the League."

"Oh?" It was Prince Dick who spoke this time. "Why Star of all places?"

Tucker snorted. "Because we used to live there? Obviously." He took a sip of his water, so he only noticed the shocked looks of the royal family when he set down his cup. "What?"

Danny sighed. "I might… not have mentioned that."

Tucker actually looked appalled at that revelation. "You didn't- Danny!" Danny was sure he was glaring at him, but since Danny resolutely didn't look at him, he couldn't see it. So it didn't matter. And since it didn't matter, Tucker gave up glaring at him for a moment with a sigh. "And why did you not mention that?"

"Not like it matters," Danny grumbled, resting his head in his free hand. "So I used to live somewhere else. Who cares? The Lands are my home now. It's where I belong, it's where my loyalty lies, so that's all that matters."

Tucker sighed again, and Danny could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. But since he still wasn't looking, it still didn't matter.

"Oh!" Prince Jason snapped his fingers. "That actually makes sense. Is that what you meant when you said you being born in the Lands was different to your brother?"

What?

Surprised, Danny looked up at the second prince. But the man in question was looking at Dan questioningly, who in turn blinked in confusion, then let out a soft "oh" and gave Danny an almost bashful smile. "I might have mentioned something when I told him about my birth."

There was… so much to unpack there. But first of all: "You told him about your birth?"

Nodding once, Dan crossed his arms and leaned back. "Some days ago. He noticed I was… annoyed about something to do with that and we talked." Danny noticed how one of the guards - the one whose name Danny had forgotten and refused to re-learn - flinched at that. Hm… He wasn't sure he liked that. Especially not when Danny's narrowed gaze made him squirm so much. "I ended up telling him about what I am and how we met. Turns out Prince Jason is a very open minded and accepting person."

Well, it was good that the guy Dan had a crush on wouldn't abandon him for being a Shadowborn, Danny guessed. And it made a lot more sense why Dan had fallen so hard so fast now, if that was true. Besides, that was Dan's secret to tell whomever he liked. Even though it wasn't really a secret so much as it was something they just merely wouldn't shout down flying on a dragon. He wished Dan would've told him afterwards, just so he could've made sure nothing bad had come from it. No attempts on Dan's life, not again, and no bad rumours. At least none that made it to Dan's ears.

Oh, well. It seemed to have gone over well enough. So that was all good, then.

"I see," Danny finally nodded back, smiling at Dan a little. "As long as you felt comfortable to share it."

"I did." Dan smiled back. Then he clapped his hands, turning around to the other royals at the table. "Oh! Since you wouldn't know, the short of it is this: I am actually a Shadowborn, sprung into existence from the moment Danny learned he'd lost his entire clan. I ended up being magically aged up, and Pariah Dark found me, so that's how I joined him. Danny found me later, and he made me a human. Then he adopted me as his brother in front of the Ancients."

Snorting at how Dan had told the story as though it was no big deal, Danny shook his head. That really was the short of it, but it also didn't clear things up much. Not that he would elaborate. That was would always be Dan's story to tell, and his decision how much of it to divulge.

"What is a Shadowborn? I'm afraid that's a word I haven't heard yet…" Prince Timothy asked gently next to Danny, a curious frown on his lips.

Before Danny could answer, Prince Jason did: "It's what they call an Echo in the Infinite Lands. Lord Dantrey is Phantom's Echo is what he's saying."

Shock. Understanding. Horror.

Danny didn't like that reaction being directed at Dan's birth, even if it was most likely about them realising how much Danny must've suffered for there to have been a Shadowborn come to life through it. And how young Danny must've been, seeing as how Dan had appeared not too much later on the battlefield, of course. So he smirked, trying to wave the tension in the air away with a flippant hand.

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as it sounds," he lied, "After all, I got a brother out of it. And besides, it turned out later than both he and another girl within my fright survived. I've got Elle now, too, so there's that. New clan, new family, new home… I think, looking back, I'm actually the one who won most through that battle back then."

Dan snorted, obviously knowing that Danny didn't necessarily mean it. Because even though he would trade his clan for nothing in this world or beyond it, he still missed his parents. He still missed the boy he was, the knight of Amity Park he never got to be.

"And to answer your question, your highness," Dan said turning to the second prince when it was obvious Danny was done being reminded of his lost family, "Yes. That is actually what I meant."

"My mother was a noble from Star," Danny shrugged, figuring he couldn't just leave it at that for once. He still didn't need to tell the whole story, though. "She actually had a fiancé before she met my father, though she didn't care much for the man. Then my parents met, they eloped, and she was wiped from the family books. Regardless, it means I have some Star nobility in me, I suppose, and even a… more or less distant relation to King Oliver."

"What do you mean, more or less distant, your highness?" Prince Damian asked, at the same time that Prince Timothy turned to Danny in what looked like the most genuine and plain shock he'd allowed himself to show so far.

"You're related to Oliver? But… Didn't Chief Plasmius suggest you marry his son?"

"What?!" both Danny and Prince Jason cried out. Though from the rumours he'd asked the wanderers to tell him about his distanced family, Danny guessed Prince Jason was more outraged by the idea of someone suggesting Danny would marry his best friend than that Vlad, who was definitely in the know, would ever suggest something like that. Shaking his head vehemently, he immediately denied: "No! I- Was that what it sounded like?"

When Prince Timothy gave a still shocked nod, Danny groaned and Dan sighed. "That's Vlad for you, always trying to get people to misunderstand… You should really kill him one of these days."

Burrowing his face in his hands, Danny grumbled out: "Nope. I don't kill."

"Fine. Then you should execute him."

Sighing and straightening back up, Danny glared at Dan. "First of all, that's basically the same-"

"It's not. You don't do one, but do the other."

"- and secondly, you know very well why I can't," Danny finished, ignoring Dan's interruption.

Dan only raised an eyebrow. "I know why you won't. Which, by the way, is a stupid reason. Both Elle and I keep telling you."

"Dan." Dan raised his hands at Danny's cold gaze, pretending to give the topic up. At least for now, he probably would. So Danny turned back to his fiancé, shaking his head again. "No. Vlad was saying that the Prince of Star Kingdom should be the only one excepted from the prospects. He probably knew we'd interrupt him, though, so I suppose he wanted you to think he had suggested his highness. Though I'm not sure why…"

Danny looked at Dan, but his brother only gave a deep, thoughtful frown and shook his head. When he turned to Tucker, his friend also shrugged. Sighing again, Danny rubbed his nose. "I'll sick someone on that. We should figure out what he's planning this time."

"Wait!" Every eye suddenly turned to the first prince, whose mouth all but hung open. "Vlad? As in, the man who tried to poison you multiple times Vlad? He's still alive?!"

"See!" Dan pointed at Prince Dick. "He thinks Vlad should be executed, too!"

"Oh, I- No, that wasn't what I meant to say." Prince Dick composed himself, giving a week but still shaken smile. "I was merely… surprised. I didn't expect someone who would try to poison your highness would have survived the attempt."

Understandable, though Danny hated that it was. He didn't like how everyone always assumed he'd be doing away with all his enemies, just because he'd gained the throne through conquest. He'd worked hard to make sure the Children of the Lands knew he wouldn't harm them just for standing against him, after all. Looked like he would be doing the same, tedious, tiering process all over again, huh? Though he was glad that they knew they wouldn't be included in the list of those enemies, at least. Since they'd negotiated a peace treaty and all that, after all.

And Danny could also understand how pale the prince was right now. After all, Gotham had abolished the death penalty. So the thought of having suggested someone should be executed, even by accident, must have been shocking. Especially right in front of his father, the most famous adversary against the death penalty.

"Yes, he's alive. His chosen name is Plasmius. He has given both your father and brother permission to call him Chief Plasmius, but he is the Chief of Amity Park to you. Please remember that in the future." Danny waited for the nod he got in answer. Judging by the wide eyes of the prince, he seemed to have noticed just why he'd accidentally been rude, then. Assuring him that he wasn't angry about the slip up with a smile, Danny kept explaining: "My father called him a close friend, although I'm sure that was one-sided. But because of that he gave me and my entire clan permission to his given name. But he is a headache and a false snake. Wether what he says is true or not, you can only trust that every word that does or doesn't leave his mouth is self-serving in some way."

"He has been trying to sabotage Danny from the very beginning," Tucker sighed, visibly annoyed just thinking about Vlad. "And he's creepily good at lying too. Such a slimy man."

"The worst! An absolute fruitloop," Dan immediately agreed, "And a traitor ten times over to boot! Danny really should kill him."

"I can't," Danny insisted.

"Won't," both Tucker and Dan disagreed again.

Groaning once more, Danny gave both of them a glare. "I will not be having the same conversation with you again."

Tucker rolled his eyes at that, leaning to the side to look at Prince Timothy around Danny. "He says it's because the people of Amity trust Vlad and because of the uses of the magic he wields. But actually it's because of Vlad's daughter. She left Vlad's clan and family long ago because, frankly, the man is a terrible father. But Danny thinks a part of her still hopes he will change and mend his ways, and he doesn't want to take that hope away from her."

Glaring at Tucker to shut him up didn't work this time. Especially since it was Dan who continued with a long suffering sigh. "Even though she herself told him to just do it before! Seriously, if she was anyone else he wouldn't be half as soft on the treacherous, regicidal bastard of a-"

"You are talking," Danny interrupted him with clenched teeth, "about our sister. Careful what you say."

"Your sister?" Danny wasn't sure who the one whispering that had been, but he could tell by the hardening look in Dan's eyes that he'd heard it, too.

"Yes. Elle. The only reason why that piece of filth is still alive after everything he's done is because, biologically speaking, Elle is the daughter of Vlad and-"

With the sharp hiss of an angry snake and a fist slammed on the table, Danny finally got Dan to shut up. Control yourself, he'd told his brother. A warning, to follow Danny's orders. And though he was visibly unhappy with it, it took almost no time at all until he answered with a soft meow of a cat. Understood. Next to him, Tucker also gave a nod, though his lips were pursed. "Yeah, got it," he answered, verbally as always.

Relaxing now that he knew both of them would stop pushing this, Danny sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his hand and willed his magic to back down. Willed the ice he knew had sprung up from the fist he'd slammed down to melt away, the air to warm back up. Only then did he speak, voice measured and carefully calm.

"I adopted Dajelle as my sister in front of the Ancients. She renounced her birth relations in front of the Ancients. So all that matters is that she is our sister now, a part of our clan. She has no other family, just as we don't. Her biological ties matter no longer. However" He opened his eyes, looking right into the red glow of Dan's eyes, then met Tuckers brown ones. "if I were to execute Vlad, then her hope for her birthfather would die with him. I will not be the one who kills my sister's hope. That decision is final, and neither of your opinions will change anything about that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, High Chief," Tucker answered first, voice soft but bitter all the same.

Dan didn't answer for a long moment. Danny waited another, making eye contact with his brother again. Still, no answer. "Dantrey?"

Finally, his brother let out an annoyed huff. With an angry curl to his lips and his teeth clenched, he bowed his head, fist over his head. "Yes, High Chief."

It hurt, how he almost spat out the title. It hurt even more to use his authority against his clan. But it had to be. After all, this was for Elle's sake.

Danny saw how she looked at Vlad. He saw how she would wince whenever Vlad did yet another stupid thing. Saw how upset she was when Danny and Vlad had fought. Noticed her letting out her frustrations on the training ground when Danny stood before the decision on whether to spare or execute him yet again. He saw how Elle perked up whenever she heard news about him. Saw the relief in her shoulders when those news weren't bad ones for once.

Danny knew that Elle did not regret renouncing Vlad as her family. He knew that she was angry at him, didn't trust him, and that she hated his guts.

Danny also knew that Elle still viewed him as the father who'd raised her, no matter how poorly, at least deep in her heart. There, she thought of him as the first parent she'd ever had. The one who'd taught her how to speak, how to walk, how to talk, how to fight and how to cast magic. There, she still hadn't stoped hoping that Vlad would one day mend his ways.

So Danny wouldn't, couldn't back down on this. Not even in the face of the rest of his clan.

Taking a deep breath to gather himself, Danny looked at the princes, who all watched him with different degrees of shock, and even fear. Damnit. "Your highnesses," he started, then turned to King Bruce, "Your majesty. I'm very sorry that I lost my temper. This topic is very… emotionally charged. We've had many arguments like this about it, but only since it's close to the heart for all of us. We don't usually let it get this extrem, either." He closed his eyes, took another deep breath. Held it. Tried to exhale it without it being shaky. He clenched his hands to get them to stop tremble from all the different emotions still waging inside of him. Opened his palms again. Opened his eyes and leaned back. "I think it best we change the topic for now."

King Bruce was the first one to move, giving a slow nod. The man's shoulders relaxed and one after the other his children followed suit. "Yes, I agree. That does seem wise. Thank you for your apology. It is deeply appreciated."

Unsure what the correct answer to that was, Danny only gave a smile. "Right. Uhm… What were we talking about before that?" Danny tried to remember for a moment, then felt embarrassed to have forgotten. "Right! The wedding. So… What exactly is a wedding ceremony like in Gotham?"

Next to him, Tucker hit himself with an open palm against his forehead. Danny wasn't sure why.

Chapter Text

Tim's mind was still reeling, his fingers still cold.

Danny, Phantom, the High Chief, his fiancé had just frozen the table with nothing more than a touch. It didn't even seem to be intentional. The windows had been covered in frozen flowers, the water in their cups had started to freeze.

The ice was gone now, as was the fog the sudden drop in temperature had caused. When Tim gently reached out to touch the table, the wood was still cold to the touch beneath his fingers. Even though Alfred's good tablecloth.

Tim had thought he'd seen Danny angry before. He'd thought their initial denial of the proposal during negotiations had made him angry. He'd thought the whispers in the Bristol plaza that day had made him angry. He'd thought Tucker's words when they'd first arrived had made him angry. But none of that compared to this. His quiet, silent, simmering anger was nothing compared to this.

Was this what B had felt when he'd first seen the inextinguishable flames of Pariah Dark? Because with the soft glow this ice had held, Tim felt pretty sure that it would be the same. That - no matter what they'd try to do - this ice would not melt. And the thought of what that could do to Gotham, if it were to be maliciously used…

When the roots of plants froze, they would wither and die. If the rivers would freeze over, there would be no more water supply and no chance to fish. As a matter of fact, would the fish even survive this? Would any other animals, when all the trees and the plants would die? And what of the ground? With no trees rooted deep in the soil the ground would become unstable, wouldn't it?

The High Chief didn't need an army. With just his own power alone he would be able to ruin Gotham, to take away their food and water and make the land an unlivable place, cursed by an eternal and unbending winter.

But would he?

His instincts, honed through training and sharped under the tutelage of none other than King Bruce Wayne, paranoia and night personified, told him not to relax. That this was dangerous. That such power could always be directed against them, and that they wouldn't be safe until they could at least guarantee mutual destruction should they be threatened by it.

His heart and his gut, though, told him that it was alright. Because how could Danny, who had admired the flowers in the gardens with such care and wonder, who had talked about the absence of them in his home with such sadness, who was interested in all the different fruit Tim had brought to their tea sessions, who had lit up so much just by tasting a new kind of food from a street vendor, who had forgiven Damian's attempts at poisoning and breaking into his quarters in the middle of the night, who had forgiven Jason picking a fight with them… How would the same person, the same Danny that Tim had involuntarily found himself falling in love with, destroy a land so thoroughly?

Taking a deep breath, Tim tried to gather himself and focus on the facts.

Fact was that Danny was strong. Far stronger than them, probably far stronger than what they could handle.

Fact was that Danny had the backing of not just one but two Ancients, who apparently actually existed and even interacted with him regularly. Three, maybe, seeing as how his brother had addressed the Ancient Pandora with a nickname, and talked as though both of them regularly interacted with her.

Fact was also that he'd refused to execute them man who'd tried to oppose and kill him what sounded like multiple times, because he thought keeping the man alive would benefit his family. Even against strong opposition, and opposition from that very family no less.

Fact was that Danny had apparently lost all his family before, and had suffered under it enough to form an Echo.

Fact was that Danny had pieced his clan together from an Echo, the daughter of his enemy, a childhood friend from Star Kingdom and another person called Sam.

Fact was that Danny allowed his clan to speak to him in insults and disobey him, the latter at least to a degree, and was by the looks of it altogether incredibly soft on them. More than Tim had expected a man like the High Chief to be capable of.

And fact was that Danny had invited Tim to become his family, rather than just an accessory married to him. He'd told Tim he wanted to have a friendly relationship with him, he'd allowed Tim to call him by his given name, he had told Tim about almost anything he'd had questions about.

Yes. Danny could destroy Gotham if he wanted to. But thinking back on the time they'd spend together since the negotiations, Tim didn't think that he would want to. And besides, what good would it do Danny to conquer a land he'd destroyed anyways?

Glancing over to Damian, he found his brother's eyes. In them, he found the answer he needed. And when he looked over to Jason he found the same answer again. All three of them were in agreement: As long as they did not antagonise the Infinite Lands as a whole or Clan Phoenix specifically, they would probably be safe from that ice at least.

"Thank you for the apology," Bruce's voice pulled Tim out of his thoughts again, accepting the apology Tim had only half noticed Danny giving them, "It is deeply appreciated."

"Right," Danny answered, his smile a bit nervous and guilty. So he didn't like getting that angry either, huh? Good to know. "Uhm. What were we talking about before that?" He hesitated, glowing eyes flicking to the side. He looked embarrassed, somehow. Because he'd lost his temper, maybe? "Right! The wedding. So… What exactly is a wedding ceremony like in Gotham?"

Just like that, with almost no time to get his baring back after the turmoil just then, all the attention was back on Tim. But… Why would he bring up the wedding like nothing had happened? Was that a reminder that they'd still have to go through with that, a threat not to think about getting out of it out of fear for Tim now that they'd seen this side of him? Or a reminder that Tim wasn't part of his clan just yet? A demand to forget anything had ever happened?

Tim noticed Tucker seemed to disagree with whatever it was that Danny was conveying, at least. Or, rather, that he thought it'd been a stupid decision. So Tim would wager the latter was what Danny intended to tell them. It was, after all, stupid to think they could ever forget that casual, overwhelming show of power just because they were told to.

"The ceremony starts by passing the rope," Tim started explaining, hoping that he wouldn't forget anything, "Three ropes are tried together and get passed along by the guests. Each of them thinks of a well wish and braids the rope a bit further, to tie the wishes into it. Then, when they are done, the two of us enter. Since I'll be the one to join your family, Bruce will guide me to you and pass my hand to you. After that, it's time for the handfasting. The priest will use the braided ropes to tie our hands together, and we'll stay bound until the end of the ceremony. There's a short speech by the priest and a blessing from him. After that, we lay our hands on the oath stone and say our vows. The priest will tell us what to say, so you just have to repeat. After that, we sign the marriage certificate, exchange a pair of wedding bands and then seal the marriage with a kiss. Then, two members of our family will cut the rope under the priest's guidance. Then we leave, and that's that for the official ceremony. All that's left after that are the celebratory activities."

Danny hummed, tilting his head to the side. "So, like, the rope thing is a superstition, right? Something about good fortune, I'd imagine. The oath stone would be for permanence, and the binding for unity. What's cutting the ties about?"

Surprised that he'd figured the meaning behind the gestures out this quickly after claiming he had little to no knowledge of their weddings, but quickly remembering that he'd - apparently - lived in Star once upon a time, Tim nodded. "Yes, you've guessed correctly. Our family members cutting it is a symbolism for their blessing. Since we're tied together in marriage in front of the gods at that point already, they cut away the ropes together, ending the ceremony for us."

"Mhm… I see." It really didn't sound like he did see. "And you mentioned celebratory activities afterwards. What will that be like? I understand that celebrations in the South are very different from ours."

"A banquet," Dick answered this time, "So there will be music and food. And after that there will be time for dancing, but only for those who wish to. The others are fine to mingle and talk."

"Oh, but the newly weds are supposed to have the first dance together. And you're not supposed to dance with anyone else, either," Jason chimed in with a thoughtful look, "Though I'm sure we could just drop the first dance altogether if you don't want to dance, your majesty."

Tim was sure that, despite the innocent shrug he gave, Jason was actually hoping that Tim wouldn't have to dance. He knew Jason wanted Tim as far away from Danny as possible, but at the same time Tim himself found he didn't quite share the sentiment. So he was happy when Danny shook his head. "No, that's alright. We are holding two ceremonies so that both of us can enjoy all of the customs of our home lands. So unless something goes directly against the religious believes of the Infinite Lands I'm more than happy to oblige."

He didn't say his religious believes, Tim noticed. Well, Danny had said he hadn't been religious until he'd met the Ancients himself. Perhaps he still wasn't an avid practitioner of religious customs despite having been proven wrong, then? It would be funny, the thought of someone mingling with his deities refusing to participate in religion.

"Before we eat," Tim thought to add, just for good measure, "we receive the wedding gifts. Every family attending is supposed to bring a gift that represents their wishes for our union. Seeing as this is a marriage of convenience for the sake of peace I expect we'll receive many gifts catering to that."

"I see. That sounds nice." Danny thoughtfully tapped his chin with a finger, looking towards the ceiling. "In the Lands the married couple receives presents only from their clan-mates, their guardian Ancients and each other. The other guests receive a small gift from the couple, actually. Something to remember the wedding by, like a bookmark or a tassel for their sword." He looked back down, smiling at Tim warmly. "But giving gifts according to their wishes is an interesting custom, too. The thing with braiding their wishes into the rope for the handbinding, too. Gotham weddings include well wishes a lot, don't they? That's nice."

"Wait." Lord Dantrey's voice sounded suspiciously cold, and when Tim looked over at the man his eyebrows were drawn in what looked like worry. "Those rings you mentioned. On what hand do they get placed?"

What? Why would that be an issue of all things? Was one hand not supposed to be adorned by practice of the Lands or something? But Danny wore gloves on both hands, so that surely couldn't be it. Right?

"A wedding band is worn on the ring finger of the left hand," Tim answered. Immediately, Danny stiffened next to him and Lord Dantrey wore a deep frown. Even Tucker winced.

"Then, is there a way we can avoid-"

"No." Danny interrupted his brother with a shake of the head. "No, it's fine."

"But, Danny, your injury." What? What injury was Lord Dantrey talking about?

But Danny just sighed, shaking his head again. "I know. But it's fine. It'll be fine, I can handle that much." Then he turned to Tim with a somewhat strained smile. "In the circumstances leading up to my birth family's death," he explained gently, "I sustained a magical injury. It's not something that can be healed. These gloves were enchanted by Tucker so I don't suffer the effects of that injury."

Danny used his teeth to tuck off the glove covering his left hand. What was revealed was a mess. It looked horrible, painful. The limb was covered in deep gashes, somehow not bleeding but also not scraped over properly. It was blue, too, as though it'd been exposed to too much cold. Wincing, Danny raised his hand for them to see. It was trembling slightly, his fingers twitching very now and again. And held up like this in the light as Danny turned it slowly so the could better see, Tim noticed that the open wounds weren't bleeding because they were frozen over in a thin, glittering layer of ice. Beneath it, Tim thought it could see Danny's blood rushing through the veins. But perhaps that was just imagination.

"Without the gloves," Danny said, glowing eyes trained on the hand in what would have almost been an impassive way if not for the pain in his eyes, "it hurts and I don't have enough strength to, say, wield a sword. Or even a dagger. I can hold things, but that's about it. I don't like to take them off in general since it's uncomfortable, and especially not in front of people." Lowering his hand, he put the glove back on carefully. Gently. Avoiding irritating the injuries, Tim realised. "But I'm not so fragile that I can't bare it at all. I just usually choose not to, is all. And a wedding ceremony is special, right? So it's fine."

Almost in wonder, Tim looked at the hand that was now covered again. Why would Danny show them? Why would he take off the glove, if it hurt? Why would he tell them how the injury impacted him, showcasing an obvious weak spot like that? And, most of all, why would he agree to take them off for the wedding?

"If it's too much, we can also wear them on the right hand. That's how they do it in Fawcett, I believe," Tim offered softly.

But Danny shook his head again, this time with an actual smile. "No, it's really not that serious. It sucks, sure, but I mean, I managed to fight through half a civil war before Tuck managed to make these-" he raised his left hand again, tipping against the apparently enchanted leather glove with his right index finger "-so I know I can handle one wedding ceremony without them. Thank you for your consideration, though."

"You're sure?" Tim asked, because that really sounded like Danny should leave the gloves on.

But once more, Danny nodded. "Yes. Like I said: Anything that doesn't go directly against the religious practices of the Infinite Lands I'll do."

Huh. That was such a weird line to draw. He hadn't seemed interested in courtesy or etiquette so far, had disregarded all the common social practices throughly as it pleased him. He'd shown little to no regard for how things were done in Gotham or Juistria in generell. So why now? Why this?

Apparently Danny misinterpreted Tim's silence as disbelieve, because he let out a short laugh. "I mean it, the pain's not even that bad. More annoying than anything. Dan was just reacting like that since he doesn't like me showing people the injury. Since, you know, with injuries like that you could kill me if you knew what you were doing."

Across the table, Lord Dantrey groaned. "I'd also wish you would stop telling people that. Do you know how much harder that makes it to protect you? You're a reckless, stupid, ignorant child or a warrior anyways, so stop making my job even harder!"

Ah. Right. Lord Dantrey was the head of the guards, wasn't he? Wait, no. That was Fright Knight. Lord Dantrey was the head of the army. So then why would protecting Danny be his job? Unless he meant it figuratively, because they were brothers and he wanted to keep Danny safe. That was probably it, actually.

More importantly, Danny had just casually told them that injury could kill him. Why would he tell them that? Was it a challenge? Was he so sure of his own powers that he thought they had no chance to use this against him, even if they knew? Or was it a false trail?

Two seats over, Tucker groaned. "Danny," he all but sighed, "Why would you tell them?"

"Why not?" Danny shrugged, apparently actually confused, "You're always going on about how I should share more important information, don't you?"

Groaning even louder, the young man let his head fall against the table a couple of times. "It's not just about the what, Danny, it's also about how you share things. Stop making people think you threaten them, please! Or that you're challenging them. And, for the Ancients' sake, stop dropping shocking information on people with zero regard for their mental well being!"

"I don't do any of that, though?" Danny asked, smirking and tilting his head, "When I make a threat it's always very intentional, and I always follow up on them. You know that. I also don't just challenge anyone. If I did, I would actually fight them. And I don't share information without regard for people's well being. Though I admit things do get a bit chaotic sometimes."

The stare Tucker gave Danny was as cold as the ice on the table had been earlier. "Danny, please. You have no idea what you're saying half of the time."

But Danny only scoffed at that. "I have no idea what gave you that idea. I know exactly what I'm saying." When all Tucker did was give Danny an unimpressed stare, Danny turned his attention to Dick. "Do you think he's right? Because I think I'm being very clear in my choice of words."

When Dick agreed with Danny, Danny seemed smug while Tucker sighed and leaned back in his chair, seeming completely done. "Suddenly, I'm worried about what you said during your negotiations…"

Tim wanted to ask what he meant by that, but was interrupted by the food being brought out. As he watched Tucker explain to a seemingly very confused Lord Dantrey what a potato was, Tim wondered whether that meant Tucker knew not how vicious and threatening Danny could actually be or whether he'd meant to say that the High Chief knew not what his casual threats could mean for the people around him.

Chapter Text

Tucker had many regrets in life.

His number one regret might very well be that time about ten years ago, when Danny had gone missing. Sam, Lady Samantha to them still back then, had insisted they go looking for their friend. And Tucker had held her back. They'd been children. Eight and nine years old. Danny was probably dead, he'd told her, and even if he wasn't, what were they supposed to do, how would they even find him or help him, especially in the middle of a war?

Part of him still thought that maybe, perhaps, if they'd started looking right away they could've prevented whatever had happened to Danny then. Danny didn't like to talk about it, after all, so the only one who actually knew was Dan. And Dan never talked about anything he knew sorely through Danny's memory, said it was an invasion and abusing that knowledge felt icky to him. Truthfully, Tucker thought that he simply did it because he wanted to draw a clear line between himself and Danny, wanted to feel more like his own person.

Tucker also regretted leaving the keep three years ago. Danny had been the acting regent at sixteen. Had already been in that position unwillingly for two years. Danny had needed to keep the entirety of the Infinite Lands together, had needed to bear all that responsibility, had needed to rebuilt the Lands after Pariah's war, had needed to protect his clan from the backlash. So of course he'd make mistakes.

He'd just been so angry back then. Him and Sam both. After all, he'd kept such important information from them! Time and time again, he just wouldn't tell them things when he thought they'd upset either of them. Even if, or rather especially when those things were important to either of their safety. In the wake of his unwilling ascension to the then temporary throne Danny had developed a bad habit of taking decisions away from the people he loved. Out of fear and need to protect them, sure. But it had still been his and Sam's decision, and Danny had not just taken that decision away time and time again but also kept it secret from them.

And Tucker had hated being treated like some fragile porcelain thing, just because he was immune to magic. Sure, he never developed a core and never would. Sure, he could not cast magic himself, could not fly or make himself invisible or intangible like almost all the children of the Lands. But he was a capable alchemist, after all. He had his gadgets, his magic devices, and he could wield a sword and a bow just fine by the end of the civil war. He'd been one of the leaders of their rebellion, too, Ancients damn it! He was not so fragile as to have any need of codling.

He understood why Danny did it, of course. After all, Tucker would sometimes sneak a glance into Danny's office when he walked past, or bump their shoulder together just to make sure he was still there. He'd lost Danny once, and sometimes he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have gotten him back. And he knew that for Danny, who had not only lost his best friends but also his entire family and his home in one fell swoop, must have it even worse.

But that didn't mean he could stand the codling, though. And all of that seemed to stupid now, with so much time having past. It seemed to insignificant of a reason in the face of everything they'd gone through. But it hadn't back then, and Tucker still didn't return for fear of the distance being all that kept their relationship in tackt.

He regretted that too, that he'd let it come to that.

The thing that Tucker regretted right now, however, was allowing Danny and Dan to leave for the Juistria League alone. That he'd thought the other chiefs would keep their stupidity in check.

Danny was being stupid. And that was nothing new. Neither was Dan being just as stupid. But when they were being stupid, weird and crazy things started to happen. Like an Ancient waking up from a deep sleep and reigning divine punishment on humanity. Like someone honestly trying to steal Pandora's Box - which, okay, that part was Vlad's fault and his alone - and Danny fighting her. Like a revolution just springing up over night with Danny as its leader, and Danny just going along with it. Like a Shadowborn general of Pariah Dark being captured and Danny insisting on rehabilitating him.

And, yes, usually these things worked themselves out. There was a method to Danny's madness that not even Danny was privy to. But that didn't mean there would be no chaos and destruction happening because of it. Or that people would come out of it unscratched, mentally and physically.

So Tucker regretted letting Danny and Dan go alone, because now both of them were stupid and Tucker had no idea in what way. Which, truth be told, worried him immensely. More so, in fact, than the stupid wheel that just wouldn't accept the rune.

"Maybe I need to use a different one after all," he muttered to himself. But he didn't want to do that. He knew that the rune he was using was the most effective one, and the only alternative would be too unstable when used on a carriage of this hight. It could malfunction, and Tucker couldn't take that chance. This had to be infallible. "…Or maybe I'll just add a binding agent."

"What kind of binding agent?"

With a cry, Tucker jumped away from the wheel he'd stood over and turned around to-

"Oh! Your highness." He kneeled in front of the youngest prince, one hand over his heart and one behind his back like Sam had drilled into him.

He hadn't ever really interacted with a royal before, had only seen the then king and prince of Star in passing during Danny's funeral, so he wasn't even sure what he was doing. Truth be told, he was pretty nervous about all of this. Having Danny there helped, sure, but still. Real royalty!

Danny and his siblings didn't count, since they were his clan and his idiots first.

He hoped using the Star etiquette he'd learned back then was sufficient… He was only a commoner, after all.

The prince pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Tucker, tilting his head. "You should not kneel that readily in front of someone who is not the one you're sworn to," he told Tucker, crossing his arms, "It is unbecoming of a warrior such as yourself."

Taking that as permission to stand up, Tucker did just that. "Well, maybe," he admitted, scratching his cheek in embarrassment, "But, you see, your highness, I'm not a warrior. The Path I've chosen is that of a weaver, so- Ah! Danny… did explain that much to you, didn't he?"

Fortunately, the prince gave a sharp nod. "He and his brother did explain the different paths and the meaning of names within the Infinite Lands, yes. However, you say you are no warrior. Then, are you not Pharaoh Tuck Duul Aman Sa Sen Re, the alchemist third in command of the revolution that took place in the Infinite Lands five years ago?"

Wincing at the name, Tucker gave a short, strangled laugh. "That… Well, I guess that is my chosen name. I don't really use it, though. Only for people I really don't like - that's why it's so long. They have to say all of that every time, you know?"

The prince seemed to consider this for a moment, then hummed. "But would you not need to know whom to annoy with this name from the moment you introduced yourself in this case?"

Tucker nodded again, feeling his cheeks warm up. This, this was why you shouldn't allow a petty thirteen-year-old to choose their name already. Still, a royal had asked Tucker about it, so he resigned himself to answer. "Well, I specifically meant to annoy just Vlad with it, so… He's the only one who has to use my chosen name."

"So, you used your name, a culturally very important aspect of yourself that shows your trust, loyalty and dignity, as a weapon to inconvenience the man who had slighted your friend? And you did so knowing how this meant you could not use your chosen name as it was intended?" Unfortunately, Tucker had to nod to that. Surprisingly, the prince nodded back, looking almost impressed. "Acceptable."

"Glad you think that way, highness…" Wait. Hold up a moment. Tucker was sure Danny had not mentioned anything about Tucker's chosen name, so why did the prince know about that anyways? "But, I'll say, you're awfully well informed. How come?" Ah, shit. Was that rude? Had Tucker just committed lest majeste or whatever it was called?

If he had, though, the prince didn't react on it. Instead, he sneered but looked away. "Well, my brother is about to join your ranks, so it is only natural I try to gain knowledge of people of importance, isn't it? Your name was mentioned along side Phantom's and Lord Dantrey's many a time, together with Mother of Plants." Ah. So he knew about Sam, too, huh? "And since his majesty called you Tuck before it was not a hard deduction to make."

Alright, yes, that made sense. Nodding, Tucker was secretly relieved he hadn't heard about Jazz after all. The poor soul who'd let slip they were related to her would've found themselves in the face of Danny's full wrath - and Tucker would honestly be unable to completely rule out that he'd been the one to slip up.

"Well, it was definitely good thinking, your highness. Yes, I fought in the revolution by Danny's side. But still, that doesn't make me a warrior. I've devoted myself to creating, not to fighting."

"And to the Infinite Lands?" The prince looked innocent enough, but there was a sharp glint in his eyes.

"You're asking why I left Star for the Lands?" The prince hesitated for a moment before he gave one decisive nod. Tucker smiled, thinking back to it. "When I first found Danny," he said, voice soft as though speaking too loud would shatter the memory, "I was so happy to see him. He looked different to how I remembered him, with the magic and all that. But it was still him. We'd all thought he was dead, and turns out the only reason he didn't come find us first was because he'd thought we were dead, too."

"You were part of his first clan? The one he lost, where his pain created…?"

"Dan, yes." Tucker nodded, smiling at the wide-eyed prince. "You see, your highness, we lost each other before. And Danny, he's… he's special. He's kind and protective and loud and chaotic and… I missed him, when we thought we'd lost him. And the thought of leaving him alone, after he'd lost everything? That wasn't something we could bare. So we stood by his side when he needed us, because he was and always will be our dear friend."

"He needed you that much? That he asked you to betray your home?" The prince sounded half suspicious and half curious. He was definitely invested in the story, Tucker realised with a soft smile.

"He didn't ask us to. Actually, we had a hard time trying to convince him." Tucker laughed a little thinking of how Sam had needed to hit one of Pariah's soldiers on the head from behind, rendering him unconscious before Danny had stopped dragging them back across the border with magic. "He didn't want us to join his fight at all. Said it was too dangerous. We didn't care, though."

"Why not?"

A good question. One Tucker wasn't sure he knew the answer to anymore. So he just shrugged. "Probably because he needed us. Danny, he… He doesn't do well on his own. His first and foremost goal has always been to protect. He's kind, and he want the people around him to be happy." Actually, it might be important that the prince knew this. So Tucker made sure to look him in the eyes, even though he risked being rude in doing so. "He would never want to hurt someone, not unless that's the only way to protect whom he cares about. He does when he has to, but Danny is a surprisingly peaceful person when circumstances allow it."

The prince thought about that for a moment. That was good, Tucker thought. Because he had no idea what they thought Danny had told them, but he was pretty sure it was worse than what Danny had intended to say. Though not as bad as it could be, probably, considering the peace treaty went through and Danny was even engaged now. And if what Danny had told Tucker yesterday was true, the two of them had managed to build a somewhat close relationship in the almost two weeks they'd had to get to know each other.

Tucker would like to know why the prince hadn't offered Danny his name back, though. He hoped their feelings were mutual, at least, and the prince was just a bit shy or unsure. Because he knew if all this was to the prince was a political marriage and Danny's feelings remained unrequited it would break his heart. And Tucker really didn't want to see his best friend hurt like that.

"You're saying Phantom wants this peace as much as we do, then?" the prince's voice reminded Tucker on where his focus should be right now.

Nodding, he allowed himself to be relieved that the prince had understood so soon. That must mean Danny really hadn't caused too bad of an misunderstanding. That was relieving. Tucker could focus on his work, then. If it was just a small misunderstanding, and the prince knew that Danny really meant it when he'd said he wanted peace, then he figured they could work it out themselves. At least until he was done with the enchantments he was working with.

"He has wanted this for as long as I remember. He really wants there to be long lasting peace, and for us to repair our relationship with each other. I know it'll be a tough road to travel on, but I'm sure he will do what he can to make it happen."

The prince took another moment to think about it, then nodded. "I see. I shall relay this to father."

Tucker nodded. Good. If the king knew about it, too, then that would get them all the much further away from whatever problem Danny had created for himself this time. "Thank you, your highness." Tucker bowed a little, hoping it was deep enough. When he rightened himself again, he asked: "Now that that's cleared up, why did you come here your highness? Did you need me for something?"

"I-" The prince pursed his lips, looking to the side for a long moment, squaring his shoulders and looking back at Tucker. "You are entrusted with my brother's safety. I shall watch your work and make sure it is up to par." The prince looked to the side for a moment again, then cleared his throat. "If you are willing, I shall also… learn. About the process and nature of your work."

Ah. So the young prince was curious about alchemy, huh? Well, Tucker couldn't teach him about potion alchemy, since that was something that required the alchemist to have a certain magic talent themself, but he was one of the most skilled item alchemists out there. It would slow down his process, sure, but Danny had fortunately had the foresight to call him with a couple of days left to work on this, so it shouldn't be too bad. He'd just have to pull an all nighter or two to make up for lost time.

And the way the prince had asked him reminded him heavily of Dan and how the shadowborn had been prickly but curious once he'd been allowed to be part of their little clan. How he'd always stuck to the edges but tried to learn all he could, or just bask in the presence of people who didn't hate him just for existing. So Tucker found it was hard to deny the prince. And even if that hadn't been the case, who was Tucker to deny a royal? In their own castle no less!

So he bowed. "Of course, your highness. I'd be honoured to explain the process to you."

Yes. The way the prince's eyes lit up was exactly like Dan's used to do.

Trying to hide his smirk at the memory, Tucker turned around and walked back over to the wheel he was working on earlier. He sat down on the floor cross legged, waiting for the littlest prince to join him. After another moment of hesitation - And, boy, were there a lot of those. The prince must really think all of his actions through a lot. Maybe Tucker should ask him to teach Danny? - he came over and sat down a little bit away. Close enough to see but far enough not to get in the way.

"I have covered the wheels in phoenix ore earlier today," Tucker started to explain, pointing out the silver shine on all of the wheels, "That's a magical metal only found in the Infinite Lands. Specifically, you can only find phoenix ore in the Sleeping Caves in the far north, which is right next to Nocturn's lair. Phoenix ore is about as though as iron and about as easy to melt as lead. But it wears off quickly, so it's not really suitable for daily use or for armor and weapons. It's true potential lies in its magic resistant properties. Because of them, they are about the only thing untouched by the cold of the Cursed Lands."

"It looks like merely a glittering dust. Are you quite sure this will suffice?" The prince leaned forward to get a better look, and Tucker moved to the side a little so he could join him up front if he wanted to.

"Yes. The layer is actually quite thick, but phoenix ore turns almost invisible once it's been melted down, so all we can see is this shine. Once the charms to fasten it to the wheel are in place, it will regain its original colour and take on a warm, silvery hue. That's how we'll know the charm worked properly, too, so it's actually a good thing."

The prince hummed, glancing at Tucker. Knowing to give him some time from both Elle and Dan, Tucker waited until the royal voiced his question: "…The charms to fasten it?"

"They will combine the original wheel with the phoenix ore. Both materials will act as though they're one once the charms are in place, which makes sure the ore won't wear off through usage. After that I'll add a sealing charm and a lightening charm. The sealing charm creates a thin layer of magic between the wheels and the road, which will prevent the friction from heating the wheels up too much. Remember how I mentioned phoenix ore melts easily? And the lightening charm will restore the wheels to their original weight. That makes sure the axes won't suffer under the enchantments, either."

Humming again, the prince looked back to the wheels. "You mentioned that you might need a binding agent?"

Ah. Right. Sighing, Tucker nodded. He picked up the everglowing ink again. "I charged this with magic stones. Usually, the alchemist can just use their own magic because that's faster and a more steady supply, but since I don't have magic I have to resort to magic stones… Either way, everglowing ink is permanent. Things written with this cannot be erased or changed. When it's charged with magic, it additionally gains the effect that it can be used to create charms through writing runes. The rune I'm using is this." He picked up the sketch with all the different runes he would use for the carriage to the prince, pointing out the first of many runes. "But it's not working."

Just to demonstrate, Tucker picked up his quill and traced the rune onto the wheel again, carefully making sure the width and length of all the lines were just right. Once he was done, the soft glow of the ink turned brighter for a second - and then the rune cracked and shattered with a loud crunching sound, dissolving into nothing. Sighing again, Tucker put the equipment down.

"That happens sometimes," he explained, rubbing his temples in frustration, "It could be because the magic doesn't like the item, or because the item doesn't like the magic. Both tend to develop their own personalities for the duration of the creation process of a new magic item, and if they reject the charm it won't hold. There is another rune I could use, so whether it's the magic that doesn't like the wheel or the wheel that doesn't like the magic it'd solve the problem. But you cannot just exchange one charm for another without any repercussions. If I did, it wouldn't work as well with this carriage. Since the charm I'd be using was created for much smaller carriages, like the ones farmers use to carry their goods to markets."

"I see…" And the funny thing was, he really did seem to see. There was understanding in those green eyes, a knowing twist to the prince's lips.

That was rather impressive. After all, the prince obviously had no prior knowledge of enchantments or the development magic items. This wasn't easy to understand, at least not on a deeper level. But Tucker really believed that the prince had gotten it. He must have a talent for this kind of work, then.

"And what of the binding agent? How does this solve the issue?"

Tucker stood back up, watching the prince do the same. Together, they walked over to the alchemy station Tucker had set up on a work bench. He picked up an empty bottle and started to look through his bag for ingredients. "Binding agents are potions that work sort of… Think of it as a noble you don't like bringing a kitten with them. The noble likes the kitten because its their pet and they love it, right? And you would like the kitten because it is cute and lovable. So even though you dislike that noble, you would be able to stand being in the same room as them because being with the kitten brings you more happiness than being in close vicinity with the noble annoys you. Does that make sense?"

The prince nodded, looking at the wyvern blood with interest. "It does… How did you know I was fond of animals?"

Uncorking the blood, Tucker smiled down at the prince next to him. "Danny might have mentioned you asked about the pets back home. Now! You have to make sure to choose the binding agent according to the item you're working with. For a wheel, we'll need a potion of wyvern blood and amethyst. And since the wheel was originally made from wood and bone, I'll add lavender petals to the original recipe. Would you like to help me make this?"

"It won't lessen the quality for a novice to work on it?"

Glad that the prince was so quick to notice the obvious flaw in Tucker's offer, he shook his head. "Not this one, no. It's one of the few binding agents where experience won't bring you far. Instead, you have to put your feelings into it." When he saw the almost disgusted twitch of the prince's lips, Tucker laughed. "Yes, I reacted much the same when I first heard that, too. What that means is that this potion uses the ambient magic in the air, and that is influenced by the thoughts of the people close by. So the more the person working on this wants the binding agent to work…"

"The more the magic in the air gets influenced?" The prince guessed, face scrunched up as he thought about that. "I suppose that working on it as a pair would make it stronger, then. Since there would be more influence to the magic gathered."

"Exactly!" Tucker measured the blood four times, figuring that if the first wheel was being defiant so would the others. "So? Care to join me, your highness?"

After another brief moment to think about it, this time much quicker than before, the prince nodded. "I shall. For Timothy's sake."

Chapter Text

The silence hung heavy in the air, their glances bouncing around like a nervous squirrel. They had locked the door and drawn the curtain, precautions so if the High Chief should walk on by again he would not notice them talking this time. They did not want to risk it.

"If no one's going to say it I will," Dick finally announced with a bitter expression, running a hand through his hair nervously. The way he didn't even care that he'd messed it up spoke more volumes about his mental state than even the haunted look in his eyes. "He's even more powerful than we thought."

"That ice magic…" Ducke shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. "It was really bright. I haven't seen anything glow that way since Pariah Dark's flames. I think there's still some of that glow burned into my eyes…" He blinked, as though to chase away the phantom vision left by the too bright magic.

"My hypothesis is that Phantom's ice might not melt," B voiced the same thought that Tim had had earlier, "And he seems to be unable to control it when he is angry."

Taking a deep breath, Tim steadied himself by locking eyes with Jason. They'd both thought so, he reminded himself. Both of them had had the same thought, it wasn't just in his head. It wasn't just his heart playing tricks on him. So he braced himself for the reaction of his family and voiced what he and his brothers had shared with each other non-verbally earlier tonight: "I don't think he would use it against us."

"What?"

"Why would you-"

"Did you get mind controlled, too?"

"That kind of power cannot be left-"

Jason raising his hand silenced the others. "I second that," he stated, voice calm and eyes unwavering, "I don't think he would use that power against us, either. That is not to say he wouldn't fight us at all if he had to, but I don't think he would resort to freezing Gotham over, not even as an extreme measure."

"And how can you be sure of that? Both of you?" Bruce crossed his arms in that way people outside the family always interpreted as angry but his children knew to be worried. "Even if he has no intention of it now, think about it. If he changed his mind at any time, if he saw us as a threat, what would be do? How would we defend against something like that?"

"Lord Dantrey told me," Jason said, choosing his words carefully in a soft voice, "that the reason he acted the way he did is due to the expectations of his people. They view him as their hero of sorts. They trust and respect his decisions, and they see him as a symbol. So he can't waver, and he can't make concessions." Looking up at Bruce and making eye contact, Jason gave a small, sad smile. "Doesn't that sound familiar? Dad?"

Whether it'd been his words or his use of the word dad there, Jason had managed to strike a nerve with B. So Tim continued in the same soft tone of voice: "He speaks of nature tenderly. He told me the soil in the Infinite Lands wasn't very fruitful and that the Ancient of Vegetation had abandoned them, and he sounded so sad when he did. When we visited the flowers, he was so careful with them. As if he thought they were precious, something to be protected."

"And Lord Dantrey mentioned that he didn't want to be High Chief, either. Lord Dantrey said that Phantom hated taking a life, and that he hated forcing people into compliance. He doesn't seem to enjoy his power if that's the case. More like he has no choice in the matter."

"And you believe this?" Dick sounded equal parts surprised, suspicious and empathetic when he asked. Tim immediately gave a nod in agreement, while Jason took a moment to hesitate.

"I… I believe Lord Dantrey really thinks so. So, y'know. Can't be that wrong, seeing how close Phantom keep him. Though I think Lord Dantrey might actually be the more reasonable one of the two, actually." He sighed, thinking about something. Then, he squared his shoulders and told them without looking at anyone: "I offered him my name earlier. He didn't take it, said I oughta wait. He said Phantom was keepin' somethin' from me. He'll ask his brother for permission sharing tonight. Apparently I mighta resent 'em for not tellin' me sooner."

Oh. Oh. "You think it's the thing about your curse he's been keeping secret?"

"The what now?!"

Ah, shit. They had talked about that without Jason present, hadn't they? The time since Danny's arrival in Gotham had been so hectic and there'd been so many new revelations that Tim had forgotten not all of them knew about it. Wincing, he looked to Dick for help. He found none.

"I overheard Danny and Lord Dantrey when they arrived. Right after they were alone in Danny's room. Apparently there's something about your curse that Danny didn't share when you first talked about it, and Lord Dantrey asked him why. I couldn't find you when I told the others, and after everything that happened with the duel…" Not that Tim had tried to find Jason, but he didn't need to know that.

He probably did anyways. And why Tim wouldn't tell him. It was a sore subject, after all.

"It would make sense why Lord Dantrey would think I might get angry, then," Jason sighed, slumping back in his chair. "Urgh! This sucks. Not knowing sucks."

That was true. After all, the Wayne family was as formidable as they were because of their extensive information network and their meticulous planning. Right now, they had none of that. Their information network didn't reach into the Infinite Lands, and the High Chief hadn't given them enough time for any sort of planning. And if he used to live in Star, it'd probably been on purpose, because he knew how their family operated.

And that was another thing they needed to discuss. "Tucker said they both used to live in Star."

Bruce nodded, frowning. "Yes… His mother was a Juistrian Noble. I did not expect that, to be honest." He sighed, closing his eyes. "He also mentioned a distant relationship with Oliver. That should help us find out more about his past."

But Duke shook his head. "No. He said his mother was wiped from the family register after eloping with his father. If he has some relation with the king that would make his mother a high noble. And since he joined the infinite Lands immediately after her death, his father must've been from there. So if they cut ties with his mother, it was probably to hide how she'd fallen for an enemy soldier."

"As high nobility, her family would have tried to keep that quiet because of the scandal alone. And even if not, they would have risked to be accused of treachery otherwise." Dick sighed, burying his head in his hands. "There would be no documentation of it left!"

Gasping, Tim came to a realisation. Looking at Bruce, he asked: "Do you think that's why he targeted King Oliver? Because he still holds some grudges about how he and his mother had been cast out of their family? Maybe he blames the Queen family for that."

"Maybe even for the death of his family," Bruce nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "We don't know how they died, but if his entire family died at the same time I doubt it was by natural cause. Perhaps he resents his maternal family for not protecting them in their time of need."

"That would explain why he would threaten King Oliver so much… And considering that he didn't recognise Danny, I would think he never met him when he was a child. So his grandparents probably faked his mother's death after she eloped." Nodding grimly, Tim also sighed. "We should ask Oliver to look into the death certificates within his extended family from nineteen years ago. Maybe going back until twenty-five years ago, their parents might have eloped before Danny was born."

"Nineteen years ago seems to be the most plausible time. That's when the war first broke out, and the year Phantom was born. If they met just before the war and eloped, just for the war to begin before their family could do anything about it…" Bruce frowned. "Either way, I'll tell Oliver to look into different options. We don't know anything for sure yet. it could also have been to avoid a scandal, like you said. I'll tell Oliver to cover all the bases."

"We don't know that we'll find anything for sure," Dick chimed in, "There must have been a lot of record that were lost in the flames during the Great Siege."

"No," Bruce agreed, "But it's a start. And our first actual lead to know more about Phantom and his objectives. So we'll follow that trail until it goes cold."

Wasn't it pretty pathetic that this was the only lead they had, even after all this time? And only because one of Danny's people hadn't realised he meant to keep it secret.

"Considering what we learned today," Tim brought up after a moment, thinking back to what Danny told him about the soil in the Infinite Lands, "he might not have seen any other way but to threaten us into compliance. I mean, think about it: No matter what happened, he made up a reason why he would forgive it this time. Even when Jason literally fought his brother, or when Damian trespassed into his quarters in the middle of the night! He didn't even retaliate because Damian mixed something in his food, even though he's paranoid enough about that to refuse eating soups at all. So if Lord Dantrey is right and Danny actually doesn't want to wage a war but can't allow himself to hesitate either, and if the soil isn't suitable to grow a lot of crops…"

"You think," Duke asked horrified, catching on to Tim's thoughts the fastest, "that this is him trying to resolve things peacefully?!"

"…If his only experience with Juistrian royals is that they hate his people enough to abandon their family because of it, it would make sense that he thought he had to threaten us. And we don't know a lot of the power structures in the Infinite Lands, either. There might have been pressure put on him to deliver, too, for all we know."

"He did seem surprised we were willing to submit to him," Bruce remembered. "He must have thought we would risk another war rather than to talk to him."

"He seemed particularly concerned about the "trade agreement", too. So his main goal in all of this was probably to bring the resources of the league under his jurisdiction with as little bloodshed as possible."

"And because he doesn't want to shed any blood he demanded a hostage, too! Because that way he could make sure there would be no retaliation later on, and his plan wouldn't be for nought."

"So y'all are telling me," Jason asked breathlessly, "that all of this is some elaborate scheme by him? This was always him trying to show as much mercy as he could allow us?"

Bruce nodded solemnly. "He said it himself today: He makes good on his threats. So I have no doubt he would have waged another war if we had refused. Or that he still would, if we give him the reason to. But you make a sound argument, too. So perhaps he wasn't looking for a reason to start another war, but for one to avoid it."

"Shit." Jason let out a laugh that sounded just a bit too hysterical, eyes blown wide in fear. "Shit. If this is him showing mercy, then what do we do when he stops? What does him actually being cruel look like, then?" He sucked a deep breath in, closing his eyes. "Lord Dantrey also mentioned that Phantom hates fighting. That he does it when he has to, but doesn't take joy in it."

"He will probably be ruthlessly efficient, then." Dick nodded, crossing his arms and making eye contact with all of them. "Let's make sure he sees no reason to resort to that, then. He's already proven that he is a strategic mastermind. And he overwhelms us in both magical power and fighting prowess. So we stand little chance. But since he apparently doesn't want a fight to happen much more than we do, we should be able to avoid one. If we're careful."

"But then why would he plant those charms he spoke about earlier? He basically admitted his alchemist friend would be planting traps here, that he gives him free reign of decisions of which ones to use. They didn't even speak about it where we couldn't hear!" Duke frowned, then gasped in realisation. "No way! He wanted us to know he was asking his friend to place some charms "in secret"? Then… They're contingencies?"

Gasping, Tim covered his mouth with his hands. Oh no, what had he done? "He must think I'll try to pull out of the marriage."

Immediately, Tim had the eyes of the entire room on him. Taking a shaky breath, he tried for a smile. He knew it didn't come out right. "He offered before. Said he wouldn't force me into it if I really didn't want to. He said that if I changed my mind all I had to do was come to him, and that he wanted me to be sure in my decision. He said peace would be possible without a marriage, too." Looking up, Tim worried his lip between his teeth. "I thought he was telling me it was fine if I couldn't do it, that there was no shame in it if this was too much for me to handle. But if Duke is right, then… I think he's offering me a way out."

"If you don't want to play hostage, he is able to keep us in check using magic instead, huh?" Dick looked down at his folded hands with a grim expression. "It would make sense, in light of the new information. Another way of his to show some twisted form of mercy." He sighed. "You should take it."

"No." Tim shook his head, crossing his arms. He didn't dare look at his brothers or his father in that moment, knew how confused and hurt they must be looking at him right now. But at this point it wasn't even just about being a hostage anymore. "There have been announcements. The people of Gotham, no, all of Juistria are expecting the peace treaty to be sealed with a marriage. It's an old custom, and it isn't really done anymore, but it is tired and true.

"And Danny was right: We might have had peace in theory, but it was a shaky kind of peace. It wasn't official. The people need something they can trust in. They need something tangible, after all of the fear they had. If I don't marry Danny now, then how will the people trust the treaty? How can we calm their fears? We can know what we do, and we can say what we will, but if the betrothal is broken now, days before the wedding date, then they will live in fear of Danny's retribution.

"Danny has shown that he is willing to treat me with some measure of respect and care. He spent his time here trying to find out more about me and build a positive relationship with me. I also think that he feels somewhat guilty for making me marry him, and he doesn't seem to dislike me. I'm not scared of being treated too unfairly by him anymore. I mean, think about it. The first time we've seen him get actually angry was on behalf of his family. Lord Dantrey said that family was important in the Lands. And Danny said there is a possibility I might belong to his family one day. So I'm sure I will be under his protection. And no matter what the other chiefs or the people of the Infinite Lands may have to say about it, Danny is backed by their gods and he's their High Chief. His name will provide me with a powerful shield.

"So I will go through with the marriage. I will move to the Infinite Lands, and I will make sure the war neither we nor Danny seem to want won't come to be. I will strengthen out ties, and I will try to make it so that the next generation will be able to enjoy peace without being threatened into it."

There was a long moment of silence. Softly under his breath, Jason let out a few choice words Tim would rather not repeat. Pretty blasphemous insults for someone so religious, really. Dick looked like Tim had just killed his puppy right in front of his eyes when Tim glanced up. Duke's lips were firmly pressed together and he was pale, his hands shaking. But when he noticed Tim looking, he forced a smile on his face and nodded.

It was Bruce who moved, putting a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder. "Tim. Son. I… The crown is heavy to bear, but it should be heavy on my head. You shouldn't have to suffer for like this for the sake of the kingdom. None of that should mean you have to be trapped in a loveless marriage!"

Gently, Tim took Bruce's hand in his. "I'm still a prince of Gotham, dad. I also bear a responsibility for my people. And besides-" He looked up from their hands, into B's baby blue eyes. "-it won't be a loveless marriage. Not for me, at least."

The shock in Bruce's face was palpable. "You mean…?"

Nodding, Tim looked around at his family, then back at Bruce. "I… I think I'm in love with him. He's… kind. Under all that threatening and the duty he carries. It might be unrequited, but I… I like him, dad. I really do."

"Oh, Timmy…" Dick came over to him, sitting next to Tim on the couch to softly pull him into a hug. He felt the first tears gather in his eyes, and tried to push them back.

"That's even worse," B decided, his voice raw with emotion. "If you love him and he doesn't love you back… Tim. You don't deserve that pain."

"Maybe in time," he whispered softly, his own voice breaking. And when Dick rubbed his back, Bruce squeezing his hand comfortingly, he couldn't help but to cry. It wasn't pretty or demure, not like his mother had taught him to cry if he really had to. It was raw, and it was ugly, and it was honest.

Nobody will want a crybaby. Much less if that crybaby looks so pathetic and defaced, he heard his mother's voice in his ear. But that was just the issue: He wasn't wanted, no matter how prettily he could cry.

He'd gone and done the one thing his mother had always forbidden him to do when he would one day get engaged for the sake of the family. And she was right: Falling in love only hurt. And yet still, he couldn't make himself hate the warm feeling inside of his chest. He couldn't help but find comfort in the treacherous hope he might win Danny over.

His mother had warned him that should he be unable to remain distant, that should he fall in love, he would loose. And that it would be his undoing in time. Tim couldn't help but wonder whether she had been right about that, too.

Chapter Text

Danny was walking back from the training grounds. He'd watched the guards with them train this morning, and he was honestly a bit surprised. He remembered Frighty's training to be much harsher than that. But maybe they were just trying not to cause a ruckus? They were guests here, after all.

The morning had long since dawned, and Danny was meeting the first few servants on his way back to the castle.

He'd come to notice over the time he'd been here that Gothamites weren't really morning people. At least the servants always avoided him when he walked past in the morning, only giving a mute bow before they hurried to where they had to be. It was too bad, really. Danny would have liked a bit of small talk every now and again. But then again, these people were working tirelessly and they always seemed to be in a hurry whenever Danny saw them. He wouldn't want to delay them and give them even more to stress about.

The grass beneath his feet was dry, lit up by the sun. It was strange. He used to know what that was like, he thought, back when he was a child and the Lands had not been the first place to come to mind when he thought of the word home. But now it felt unfamiliar, even though it was summer. Back home there was always some morning dew covering the ground and the plants, even at this time of summer.

The view was nice, though. He'd forgotten how nice a flower bed smelled. He might remember his mother having a flower bed behind the house. Tulips and roses, he believed. Red ones. But he wasn't sure about that anymore.

He wasn't sure about a lot of things back in Amity anymore. It'd been so long and so much had happened. Those memories were from a different life, one that wasn't his any longer. He tried not to dwell on them too much.

Remembering how Prince Timothy's first idea for something to do had been a walk through the gardens, Danny wondered whether he should plant something around the keep after all? There weren't a lot of options, especially not when it came to flowers. But he could plant lumenvine, perhaps. Those sprouted glowing flowers by night, and they were one of the most important ingredients for healing elixirs, after all.

Unfortunately they only grew at the edge of water, like a river or a lake. He could make a lake next to the keep, probably. Then he could plant lumenvine, so Prince Timothy could still take walks surrounded by blooming flowers. Even if it would need to be at night… But moonshine strolls were nice, too, right? Besides, Danny was finally done with the cloak. He would give it to the prince at the wedding banquet, and then he could always be warm. He wouldn't need to worry about the cold that crept over the Lands at night as long as he had it.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he spotted Dan standing in the entrance to the castle. It looked like he had been waiting for Danny with the way he leaned against the door frame. Now, what could he possibly want?

Danny turned around and walked over to his brother, worry growing in his stomach. Dan rarely looked so serious. But before Danny could ask what was wrong, Dan straightened, having noticed Danny's approach.

"High Chief," he greeted Danny. Which was weird. Because Dan had never really used the title, rarely even used Danny's name rather than a fond brotherly insult or just plain calling him brother. So why would he be doing it now?

"Brother," Danny greeted back, frowning up at his brother in worry. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, Dan suddenly knelt in front of him. Just fell to one knee, lowering his head to look at the ground, one arm resting on the knee that wasn't on the ground and the other hand pressed flat against the floor. Danny had never seen Dan do this before. Never.

"Dan," Danny whispered, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with this whole situation, "Get up."

But Dan ignored him. "My High Chief," he addressed Danny more formally than even during their adoption ceremony or Danny's coronation, "I kneel before you with a request."

Shaking his head, Danny tried again: "No. Get up, Dan. Whatever it is, you don't have to beg. Please, brother."

Dan took a deep breath. "I am not asking you as your brother," he informed Danny, shaking his head, "Nor as the head of the army. I'm just asking as Dantrey, just as me."

He didn't like this. At all. He hated how Dan, his brother, his family had decided to beg something from him instead of just asking. Hated that Dan had lowered himself for anyone, let alone for Danny.

But he also knew his brother. And he knew that whatever this was about, he would not stop until Danny gave him permission to speak. So Danny gave a nod and spoke the unfamiliar but formal words he was supposed to say when someone wanted to beg him for something: "Alright. I will hear your plea."

"Thank you, High Chief," Dan answered, a bit of that smug tone coming back into his voice, knowing he had managed to convince Danny. As he always would in the end. Or, well, whenever it was possible to convince Danny of something at all. "My plea is for you to rescind one of the silence orders you've issued on me."

"What?" Did Dan want to talk about Jazz? But he knew that would put her at risk! She would probably die if their enemies found out about her. So Danny didn't think that was it. Then what silence order did Dan mean?

"You've forbidden me from talking about what I have learned during my last duel," Dan reminded him softly, "And now Prince Jason has offered me his name. I can't accept in good conscience while keeping that secret. So, I'm begging you, from subject to High Chief, please allow me to tell him."

Ah. Danny could see why he would resort to this now. It still pained him, and he still wanted to deny Dan the request. But, well, if Dan, proud Dan who always stood tall, went this far for it, then how could he do that?

Besides. He'd only just gotten to see Tuck again after so long. What if this was like back then? What if saying no would hurt Dan enough to leave Danny behind to rot alone in the keep forever? He couldn't bare the thought.

So he closed his eyes and sighed. "I still don't have a solution for it," he warned regardless.

"I'm aware. But still, I at least want to tell him."

So Danny nodded. "Alright, then. Stand. I hear your request, loud and clear."

Dan stood up, and the formal shit was finally over. The conversation he didn't want to have still had to happen however. So Danny smiled at Dan tightly, nodding. "I'll ask him for some of his time."

Best get this over with. Before he could back out again.

The atmosphere had been tense before the doors opened. After what they'd realised just a few hours before, all of their minds were still reeling. So today, breakfast was a tense affair, and the ominous creak of the door didn't help. Especially not when Phantom walked in.

He didn't look happy, that was the first thing Jason noted. His lips were pressed together in a fine line and his eyebrows were drawn. When he looked at them, he forced a smile on his face. Jason had never seen a smile look that insincere before, and he'd grown up first in Crime Alley and then later on in Bristol's high society! It might have been the eyes, he thought. They held all the warmth of a night in late Mortis.

It made Jason think back to the sudden winter this room had suffered just yesterday.

Placing a fist on his heart, Phantom nodded to them. "Your majesty, your highnesses. I'm sorry for interrupting your meal."

Tim smiled brightly at the man, as though he hadn't spend half the night crying his eyes out because the bastard didn't love him back. Beneath the table, Jason balled his hands to fists. If only he could punch the man for that, just once. But he couldn't come up with a good excuse. Damnit.

"Oh, that's quite alright. But you look worried." Well, Timbo, that was one way to understate that expression. "Did something happen?"

Phantom shook his head. "No, it's…" The way he didn't finish his sentence and just sighed instead didn't bring much hope for whatever was next. But then those glowing eyes moved to Jason, fixating him. "Prince Jason. If you have the time, my brother and I would like a word after your meal is done. There is something you should know."

Ah. Alright. Okay. So he hadn't liked Lord Dantrey asking him for permission, then. Swallowing drily, Jason nodded and stood. What could be so bad that both brothers had reacted like that? And did Lord Dantrey get in trouble for asking? Jason hoped not.

To his surprise, however, Phantom shook his head. "No. Eat first. There's time for that."

Yeah, like Jason could stomach more food now. But he still sat down. "I think," he braved to say, only because of what they knew now, "I would prefer getting it out of the way now. Can my family be present?"

Phantom looked like he'd eaten something sour at that. "It's not a pleasant topic," he warned, "And it will probably impact your future quite a bit. You might want to wait and decide later how much you'd like your family to know."

"But if I want them here they can be?" Jason made sure.

With another sigh, Phantom nodded. "It's your decision. Choose whichever makes you more comfortable."

"In that case," Jason decided, voice steady and hands trembling, "I would ask to talk to you here and now. With my family."

Nodding, Phantom leaned out of the room.

"Go find my brother for me? Tell him we're talking as soon as he gets here," he asked and was answered by steps hurrying away. Probably one of Phantom's guards that always seemed to materialise at the entrance once he stayed in a room for more than a moment. Once that was done, the High Chief turned back around, gave them another smile and sat down at the table. In front of Jason this time, rather than next to Tim.

After a moment of silence, his green eyes met Jason's once more. "This is about the magic within you. Are you sure you want them to know everything?"

Jason nodded again. And though it was hard to admit, especially towards Phantom, he still said: "If it's about my curse they need to know. I can't handle that on my own."

Phantom considered him for a long moment, face as unreadable as the first time they'd met. Then he gave Jason a short, tight-lipped smile. Turning around to Bruce, his eyes started to glow even brighter than they usually did. And was it the atmosphere in the room or Phantom's magic that made it feel cooler? Jason would be hard pressed to say for sure, but he could feel a shudder go down his back.

"Let me be very clear about this, your majesty," Phantom said, his voice low. Serious. Dangerous. They all tensed. "If you dare treat your son differently after this, if you even so much as consider using any of this against him, I promise that I will know. And once I do, I will stop caring about the treaty faster than you can realise your mistake. I won't care what it takes, or what lines I'll have to cross, but I will make sure that you live the rest of your life regretting that decision and mourning everything you have at this moment, because I will be taking it from you."

A thread. An actual, articulated thread. Completely unlike the ones he'd uttered so far. Not hinted at or hidden in context clues, no, a directly voiced thread.

Just what was it about that for the first time Phantom actually crossed that line, actually spoke his threat so clearly? He'd said he wanted to be very clear about this. He must've wanted them to know exactly what the consequences would be should, must've wanted to be sure to know they wouldn't misunderstand or underestimate the anger they would bring down on themselves.

Yesterday, Jason had asked what Phantom not being merciful with them would look like. Jason had a feeling Phantom meant to say they would know exactly that if they didn't listen to him.

It was the demands themselves that sent the largest bout of fear through Jason. What were they about to divulge that Phantom feared for Jason's safety? He acted as though he expected Bruce to see Jason like some… some kind of monster after this. So what did Phantom know? What was wrong with Jason? Was he a danger to his family?

And, as always, the curse decided to use this very moment to rear its ugly head. He could feel it bubbling inside of him, saw his vision tint with green light as his hands trembled more and his breathing went faster.

What if this was something unavoidable? What if he couldn't stop himself from hurting his family? What if Bruce couldn't accept whatever it was? What if Phantom hurt them because of it, and Jason was unable to stop him? What if-

"Still, your highness," Phantom's voice cut through Jason's thoughts, much warmer than before. "You are safe, and for the moment so is your family. Unless they treat you unfairly for what we're about to discuss, that won't change either. There is no need to fight."

Yeah, right. Safe, with Phantom here. With Tim about to be married off. As if. But surprisingly, the green retreated. Jason didn't know whether that was another one of Phantom's strange magics or something else, but the words seemed to have calmed his curse.

Phantom waited for Jason to reign himself in again, before he turned back to Bruce. "Well, your majesty?"

"I understand," Bruce nodded, voice grim and face determined. "But I assure you, Phantom, you do not need to threaten me. I love my children, all of them. Jason won't be in any danger from any of us."

Phantom's hum sounded everything other than convinced. "You wouldn't be the first parent to say that," he sighed, "And not the first one to be proven wrong. I've seen children left alone to rot for this - and I mean not by the children of the Lands. Never by the children of the Lands. Always the people of the South. So while I truly hope you are right, your majesty, I'm very sorry, but I fear the only way to convince me is through your actions."

"Why would I be abandoning Jason? He's my son!" It would be sweet, that outrage in Bruce's voice, if Jason wasn't so damn scared now.

"Why, indeed…" The smile on Phantom's lips looked bitter now. Had he personal experience with this? It looked like it. But who…? Someone in his clan, perhaps? Someone abandoned, left to rot by their parents and within Phantom's clan. Tucker? But he didn't seem to be cursed. Maybe the mysterious girl in his fright that Phantom had referenced before, then?

Jason didn't get to ask, even if he would've wanted to, because in that moment the door opened again and Lord Dantrey entered. He smiled at them and sat down next to his brother. He looked nervous, too. Not even half as grim as his brother, though. Maybe he hadn't experienced the reaction Phantom had spoken about earlier?

Phantom waited another moment, then folded his hands on the table. "And you're sure you want your family present?"

Jason nodded again. Even though he felt less sure of it by now. "Yes."

"Close the door, please," Phantom called and Sir Rain, the guard Phantom had sent to play watchdog for Tim and Jason after the duel, walked into Jason's line of sight. Without a word, he closed the doors to the dining room. Probably watched over them to make sure nobody would interrupt them or overhear, too.

"I know this will be hard," Phantom started carefully, "but I ask that you don't interrupt me." He looked around the room, making eye contact with each of them and waiting for a nod each time. When he got to Jason, his eyes lingered. It only made sense, considering it was Jason he'd wanted to talk to, but it still made him feel incredibly exposed.

"Your highness. I know this will be hard to believe, but Hiemis did not curse you-" Phantom raised a hand even before the protests had started to fall from his family's lips. "You promised to let me finish." He waited for them to settle before putting his hand down again. "Now, I understand why you would think it was a curse. With the information you had, it only makes sense. I don't doubt you suffered under it either, or that it must have cost you a lot. However, that does not make it a curse. In fact, when I found you that day you were already dying. Night had started to close in and you were already so cold. While you were able to escape the deadly borders of the Cursed Lands, you were heavily wounded. It would not have taken long for you to succumb to those wounds.

"And like I said, Hiemis is still present in the Cursed Lands as a faint consciousness. He blessed me once, and that was my first blessing. So I have a somewhat special relationship with him. When I found you dying in his lands, I used that relationship to pray to him. I wasn't sure whether he would hear me, but I knew I wouldn't be able to bring you to safety. Not in the time we had, and not with you so delirious and fighting off anyone you saw. So I took a chance, and I prayed to Hiemis to save your life. He did. And to do so, he bestowed on you a powerful blessing."

Disbelieving, Jason scoffed. "You're saying that this-" he motioned to his eyes "-is a blessing?"

Pursing his lips, Phantom nodded. "I am. The thing is, your highness, a blessing and a curse are based on the same principles of magic. But while a curse prevents you from doing something, a blessing gives you new abilities. The blessing you hold is one that boosts your strength, your stamina, your courage, your agility, your pain endurance, your ability to intimidate and your health. It might have some other effects as well, but that was what I could see in your fight with my brother. However, magic is tricky to control even for those who grow up with it. A blessing as strong as yours would do more harm than good for someone like you, who doesn't know the first thing about how to use it."

"So it's my fault? I'm the reason this magic was hurting me?" Angry that the High Chief would even imply as much, Jason slammed his hand on the table. "It made me lose my mind! I couldn't even think."

Phantom closed his eyes, sighing as though Jason was the one making things difficult here. "I worried you would react that way," he muttered, "Which is why I wasn't going to say anything. It's not like knowing it's a badly used blessing instead of a curse would change much for you." He sighed again, looking at Jason with a deep frown. "However, when Dan duelled you we noticed something else. Which is precisely what Dan wished to discuss with you. It's just that the explanation would make little sense without that knowledge."

That wasn't what they thought Jason would react poorly to? There was more? Something worse?

Phantom sighed again. "I wasn't planning on doing this now," he complained, "The plan was to wait until I'd found a better solution to all of this. But Dan was… asking very adamantly. That's the only reason I'm telling you when there's very little we can do to change it. But, well, to sum it up… Your highness, are you aware that you are currently risking your life?"

Chapter Text

"I wasn't planning on doing this now," Danny confessed, somewhat ashamed now that he had to say it out loud. "The plan was to wait until I'd found a better solution to all of this. But Dan was… asking very adamantly. That's the only reason I'm telling you when there's very little we can do to change it," he tried to justify it, before noticing what he was doing and getting back on track: "But, well, to sum it up… Your highness, are you aware that you are currently risking your life?"

He didn't even need to see their reaction to wince at his own poor choice of words. That sounded bad. Even Dan was glaring at him from the side, he could feel it. Dan.

So it wasn't a surprise when the prince paled and his family stiffened all around him. His voice sounded so small and horrified when he asked: "What?"

Feeling guilty, Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "There was probably a better way to say that," he admitted softly, then tried to recompose himself. He had to explain this properly, that way they could stop looking at Danny like he'd just told them their puppy had cancer. "There is a spell cast on you, correct? One that keeps the blessing at bay?"

Slowly, the prince nodded. "There is… We had it placed on me so I would get my ability to think back. Is… Is that a crime in the Infinite Lands? To suppress a blessing with magic?"

A crime? Danny wasn't sure how he'd come to that conclusion, but shook his head regardless. "No. No one would do that in the first place. It's not a very good solution to even the least controllable blessing. So there's not really a rule against it. However, if I'm right the spell that was cast on you is true magic, correct?"

The prince's eyes narrowed. Danny wasn't sure why. "Yes…"

Nodding, Danny pointed at the prince. "And that is a blessing. Whoever did that either doesn't know what they were doing, or they must really despise you a lot, your highness."

The prince, apparently, also didn't know much about the different types of magic. Because he looked confused. And, alright, Danny had expected him not to know a lot. But this was common knowledge at home, to the point where Danny struggled to think of where to even begin explaining. He had to try, however. Because the prince needed to understand this, especially now that Danny had accidentally spooked him like that.

Reaching over, Danny picked up the unused knife from next to the oldest prince's plate. Danny carefully balanced it on top of his fingertip, raising it for all the royals to see. "Magic is complicated, but to break it down in simple terms there is an equilibrium in all of us. Whether we have a blessing or not, whether we can wield magic or not, whether here or in the Lands, the magic around us interacts with us. Blessings, curses and spells are the result of a strong kind of such an interaction.

"A godly blessing, like the ones common here in the South, uses the divinity around you to function. In holy places like a temple such a blessing would get stronger, in the Infinite Lands where the gods and their influence doesn't reach it would grow much weaker. The blessing of an Ancient, on the other hand, allows you to create a certain type of magic within you. If this magic is called upon, a certain spell will be triggered, and then more of that magic will be produced. Which means that channeling that magic consciously and efficiently is the key to controlling that power.

"And then there's magic spells. There is contract magic, like the one used in Mystrica. It forges a connection to a magical creature and allows you to use their magic to form it into spells. There is also Realms magic. That's what Dan uses. It draws in the magic that flows through the lands, stows it inside your body and makes it your own. The spell forms inside of you and then gets released. And last but not least, there's true magic. True magic uses the magic flow of the world and your intention. With your intention, you force the magic flow around you into a certain shape, and that shape acts as the spell."

Yeah, that sounded like an alright explanation. When he looked at Dan to make sure - since he was the one more knowledgable about magic between them - he seemed to agree. Just to make sure since the Waynes apparently knew nothing about magic to begin with, he asked: "Does all of that make sense so far?"

He didn't get much of a reaction, only a couple of hesitant nods. Still, since no one seemed to have any specific questions at this point, Danny continued. "So, the blessings and spells used in the Infinite Lands work through magic inside of the body-" Danny used his magic to cool down the knife until a soft cover of frost built on it. "-while true magic and the blessings of your gods use the magic around the body." He created a cloud above the knife with snowflakes softly cascading to the table around the knife. He was careful not to make them too stable so that they ceased to exist once they hit the table.

"Usually, either one doesn't pose a problem. With both, you're more than capable to hold your balance in tact. And you still retain a large freedom of movement, as long as you don't loose that balance." To show what he meant, Danny turned his finger beneath the knife, careful to keep it underneath the point of gravity, moved the knife forward and back, turned his hand around a bit and back.

"But that is when you use either of them. You see, just like the cold here, the magic building up within you wants to get out. It needs space. And, yes, that magic was going out of control." Danny made shards of ice grow from the knife, which had the whole thing wobble on his finger precariously. "But the balance was still there. The true magic spell on you is currently shaping a bubble around you-" Danny flicked his free hand so that the snowflakes danced around the knife in a circular shape rather than cascading down. "-which keeps the magic within you from expanding. It may linder your symptoms, but…"

With another flick of the wrist, the snowflakes danced around the knife faster. They tiny flakes of ice cut into the shards of ice, meanwhile making them grow. The shards of ice were soon deformed, though they grew bigger and bigger. Meanwhile the snowflakes tumbled out of their lane one after the other, going into disarray. The knife wobbled more and more on Danny's finger, balance disturbed both through the winds of the snowflakes and the precarious shapes of ice.

"The true magic spell is fighting against the blessing within you right now," Danny explained, "Which makes both of them unstable. So it's only a matter of time right now until…" Looking down on the knife, Danny allowed the ice shards to gor a bit more, tipping the knife over. It fell, and lodged itself blade first into the table. Another flick of the wrist and all the snow and ice vanished.

"You do not mix different kinds of magic," Danny explained, looking back up at the prince, "Especially not if one of those kinds is Realms magic. It is bound to go wrong. And since Hiemis was tainted by the magic of the Infinite Lands in the battle between the Ancients and the Gods, and he bestows his blessings like and Ancient rather than the other gods, his blessing also acts as Realms magic does. That's why controlling it with true magic puts you in danger, your highness."

There was a long moment of silence while the prince contemplated, eyes on the knife. "So my choices," he finally asked, sounding almost resigned, "are to loose my mind to a blessing that only hurts me, or die?"

"No." Danny shook his head. "It's possible that you might die if the fight between your blessing and the spell grows too strong. It's also possible that it'll cost you a limp instead. Or perhaps you'll get off with only a few scratches. We don't know that, and we can't know for sure until it happens. Death is one of many possibilities, and not even the most likely."

"But it is a possibility," King Bruce softly said, more statement than question. Danny still gave a nod. The king pursed his lips. "Is it the least likely one?"

"…No. It's pretty likely, considering how long Prince Jason has already endured it and how strong his blessing is." Danny didn't like saying it out loud, hated being the bearer of bad news. But seeing the devastation around him was even worse. If only he had a solution, this would be so much easier. "But, well… That is when the spells clash too harshly. As long as the spell dosen't get triggered too often, the prince should be safe. In other words, as long as his blessing doesn't activate nothing will happen."

"My curse activates all the time, though. That's the reason I need that spell in the first place! I don't… I can't stop it from happening. And the magic has been helping less lately, so how am I supposed to- to avoid that?"

"Your blessing," Danny corrected immediately, even knowing that it wouldn't make the prince feel much better about the whole situation, "A curse draws its power from your life source. If it actually had been a curse, that spell would have definitely ended your life, and it would have done so long ago. A curse cannot be controlled either, but if you knew how to utilise this blessing correctly it would stop hurting you."

"So if he learned, he would be safe?" Prince Damian's voice cut through the room, the littlest prince wearing a serious look, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together in deep thought. "Going by what you're saying, if the spell is lifted and Jason were to be taught how to control his blessing the danger would be banned and our brother would not suffer the same symptoms as before?"

Danny nodded, glad that the young boy had understood where he was going with this. "I wish there was an easier or a faster answer, but yes. That's the only solution I have found so far."

"So far?" the prince repeated questioningly.

"I've been looking into it after the duel. Like I said, the plan was to talk about this once I'd found a better solution." He turned back to Prince Jason. "I know none of this is comforting to hear. And I know sometimes ignorance can be bliss. You are stable right now, after all, and as long as you don't fight any larger battles or tap into the blessing too much, you should probably be fine for about another two years. If this posed an imminent threat to you I would have said something earlier. But since we do still have time before we really need to worry about it, I wanted to at least give you some options."

"You think there's a way we don't need to expose Jason to that again? To what the curse- blessing did to him?" Prince Dick sounded both hopeful and desperate.

In the face of it, Danny found himself unable to answer. And once he didn't, Dan spoke up from next to him. "It's unlikely. Controlling a blessing isn't easy. When someone gets blessed for the first time they always have a rough adjustment period, one that their clan is supposed to help them through. And the magic of every blessing piles up if it's left unused for too long. So if there was a way to do what you were trying to do, I think we'd know about it."

"But you could teach him?" Prince Damian again.

Hesitantly, Danny nodded. "The reason for his highness's symptoms is that there's too much magic, and that he can't focus it. Like I said when we first met, Hiemis is not strong enough to fine tune his blessings. He probably gave you more than he intended to, especially since it was such a dire situation. With that much magic running rampant unfocused inside of you it's only natural that the magic would overtake you."

"Overtake him?" King Bruce chimed in, voice raw with emotion. Danny didn't dare look at him.

"Magic is always risky business, whether that be true magic, contract magic or Realms magic. Too much of it clouds your mind," Dan explained, "One of Danny's responsibilities is to hunt the magic beasts that have been tainted by too much magic and lost themselves. When that happens, when there's too much magic pushed into you something inside of you breaks. You go insane, and all you know is that something is wrong and there is some kind of danger. You're reduced to your instincts and only react with the first thing that comes to mind. Mages are in danger of loosing themselves to the magic, too."

"It's why we have to be back by the solstice," Danny added, "Because the magic flowing through the Lands changes directions, and that causes a huge wave of magic. We have an onslaught of animals and magic beasts that lost their mind to it each solstice. We try to safe those that aren't too affected, and kill those who can't be saved anymore. It's tragic, but it's the only way to protect the lands."

Dan nodded. "You can see it in the eyes, by the way. If someone ever lost themselves to the magic, their eyes glow red instead of green. Or they're a Shadowborn like me. Because we are formed from nothing but magic, so we're always born with red eyes. You can see it in some of the chiefs. They lost themselves and were brought back when they helped fighting during a solstice. The same goes for Hyacinth. She's one of the guards we arrived with, you might have seen her. Vlad's eyes turned red soon after the joined the war, so he must've overdone it then. Gaining his sanity back was more good fortune than he deserved."

"Dan," Danny admonished. Just because he had to, not because he disagreed. They both knew that, and Danny was sure his lacklustre tone didn't hide the fact very well to the Waynes either.

They should remain on topic, though, so Danny turned back to the prince. "When it happens with the magic created through a blessing, we call that the magic overtaking you instead since it works a bit differently. The flow of the magic has to be interrupted or the magic has to be reduced back to a manageable amount. Your sanity will always return if it was because of a blessing, and it won't have any lasting effects on your mind nor your body or the flow of your magic. Your eyes remain green, too. That's what you experienced.

"In your case, your highness, your blessing manifested as a blessing of protection. That means that the drive to protect what is dear to you is the trigger to your blessing creating more magic. It also means that when your magic overtakes you your instincts will tell you to protect. Unfortunately, while bing overtaken by magic things like morality or reason don't matter. That's why sometimes you'll do more harm than good while in that state of mind, and why most of us regret what we did once the effects are gone."

"And if I learn to control it, that won't happen again?"

"It's always possible. Especially with strong blessings," Dan shook his head, "If someone were to threaten my life, for example, and Danny would think he couldn't save me, chances are his magic would overtake him."

"Well, that might not quite be enough, but yes." Danny shrugged. "If I felt desperate enough to protect someone my magic could spike strong enough that I'd loose control. But I've had years and many different blessings to learn, so it's incredibly unlikely at this point. Something really bad would have to happen before I'd find myself unable to keep my wits about me."

"And… you could teach me?"

Danny sighed at the prince's hesitant question. He didn't like the idea. After all, Prince Jason was so very clearly devoted to Gotham and his family. Taking him away from them would be just mean. Especially when the Waynes would have to deal with Prince Timothy moving to the Lands with Danny anyways. Then again, it would possibly make things easier for Danny's future husband to have one of his siblings close by. At least while he got used to the Lands.

"We could. But you would have to come back to the Infinite Lands with us. We don't have the time or the means here, unfortunately. It would be a rough adjustment period, too, since there must be a lot of magic built up after all those years. We might be able to use an artefact to make the transition smoother, but there's no guarantee for that. And you don't know how to use your magic at all, your highness, so it would probably take a long time until you're fully in control. A year at least, I'd wager, most likely more. The training itself won't be easy, either. But…" He looked back up from the spot on the table he'd focused on, meeting the prince's troubled expression. "I know that you can learn. If you choose to do that."

"Do I even have a choice?" And wasn't that the question? Danny remembered asking himself the same thing. He'd hated everything about his blessing in the beginning, and he'd asked Clockwork and Frostbite both over and over again why he had to go through that.

"You could wait and hope we'll find another solution after all," Danny offered, "Or you could remain here, with the spell in tact, and try not to trigger your blessing. You could also go on as you were, and hope all that'll happen once the spell claims its dues are some minor injuries."

"Those aren't really choices," Prince Jason decided, shaking his head, "All of that would just be hanging on by a thread, hoping against hope for everything to work itself out. Nothing would get solved that way, and I'd always be afraid of what that magic could do to me. That's not a real choice, not when there's a solution."

"I see." Danny sighed again. "I'm sorry. I wish there was more that I could do. But if that is your answer, then we will make arrangements. Dan will be the one teaching you the basics and I will teach you the things specific to blessings myself. I'd also suggest for you to accompany us as part of Prince Timothy's order of knights. That way the two of you could keep close to each other, and being able to protect your brother should be good for helping your blessing settle as well. Though of course that is just a suggestion. You would also be welcome as a long-term guest. Still, there's four more days until the wedding. Think it through and give me your final answer once you're sure."

The prince took in a shaky breath, then nodded.

"…Was that all the information you have about my son's… blessing?" Danny could understand why the king would ask, considering he'd just admitted to hiding quite a lot from them. He could also understand why he would stumble on the word blessing.

Fortunately, Danny could answer with a nod. "Pretty much. There's also some religious implications to this particular blessing. But since Prince Jason is not a child of the Lands but a prince of Gotham, it's not important to his situation."

He sure wasn't going to go into detail about that. If he found out about what that blessing he'd received meant to the children of the Lands, prince Jason might feel pressured to stay! Danny really didn't want that. He also didn't want that knowledge to leak and someone to pressure the prince during his stay in the Lands. So it was probably better if less people knew about it to begin with. Since it wasn't like the second prince planned on moving to the Lands, after all.

"Then why would you think I'd abandon Jason for any of this?"

What?

Bruce felt like he might throw up. His decisions, his attempts to protect Jason had placed him in danger. And now the only way for him to survive was to move to the Infinite Lands as well.

It looked like Bruce would loose two of his children rather than just one. And this time he couldn't even blame anyone but himself for it. After all, Bruce had been the one to make that call. He was the one who'd asked Zatanna to cast that spell, even when she'd warned him that they didn't know how the mysterious magic of the Infinite Lands would react to true magic. And all these years he'd foolishly thought it was working.

Jason could have died! Would have, if it actually had been a curse. Bruce had almost killed his own son, and he hadn't even known it.

Jason must despise him.

Still, there was one thing that did not add up as of yet. The High Chief seemed to have said his piece. But apart from the debilitating, crushing guilt Bruce felt and the fear of loosing yet another son so suddenly, he only felt defeated. So why would the High Chief have thought Bruce could become a danger for Jason? Why had he felt the need to threaten Bruce at point black this time, when all he'd told them was how much danger they'd accidentally placed Jason in? He didn't think Bruce had done so on purpose, did he?

To make sure, Bruce forced his voice to work with him, even though all he wanted to do was to hug his son close and cry: "Was that all the information you have about my son's-" He grit his teeth but managed to force himself to call it what it was apparently considered in the Infinite Lands. "-blessing?"

The High Chief looked at him, face full of too many emotions to decipher and none of them good. "Pretty much," he confirmed with a nod, "There's also some religious implications to this particular blessing. But since Prince Jason is not a child of the Lands but a prince of Gotham, it's not important to his situation."

And as much as Bruce wanted to ask about those religious implications, it still didn't make sense to him. So he asked again, still pained that the High Chief had felt to threaten Bruce on behalf of his own son: "Then why would you think I'd abandon Jason for any of this?"

Sure, he'd mentioned before that people from the League had reacted badly, had abandoned their children - And, gods condemn them, who would ever do something like that? - and maybe even persecuted them. But for what? For needing them? He didn't understand. Bruce had messed this up, but Jason was innocent. Had he missed something?

Apparently, because the High Chief looked genuinely shocked at his question. He only blinked at Bruce in surprise for a moment or two, but then his gaze sharpened and he looked at Bruce. It felt like those glowing eyes could look through his skin, right into the depths of his very soul, as Phantom considered him carefully. It was uncomfortable, but still much better than when those glowing greens moved on to look at Bruce's children one by one. Once the High Chief's gaze returned to Bruce, he let out a quiet breath of relief.

"You understand what this means, right?" the man finally asked, voice careful and eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Prince Jason is of the Ancients now, and he always will be. He might not be a child of the Lands, but the Infinite Lands have claimed him. Even if he doesn't view himself as such, even if being a Gothamite will always come first in his heart, he is of the Lands."

What? That was the reason those children Phantom had talked about had suffered? Phantom had thought Bruce would, what, stop loving his son just because he'd been blessed by the entities of the Infinite Lands and not the gods? Who would do that?

The question must have shown on his face, because Phantom looked at him completely taken aback. "You… You don't care?" Phantom looked like his entire world had just been turned on its head.

"Not more than I care about Jason," Bruce immediately answered, shaking his head. He'd thought that would be obvious. Wasn't it a good thing, even? That Bruce had been wrong, and that it was something that Jason could control in time, that might even help him one day? How would that be something that would make him turn away from Jason?

What kind of horrors had Phantom seen committed to innocent children just for being blessed for him to look at Bruce like he'd just accomplished the impossible?

"I told you," Lord Dantrey's voice chimed in softly, his hand placed on Phantom's shoulder, "They were bad parents, Danny."

"They were not!" The High Chief turned on his brother at those words, eyes blazing. "They loved me, and they did what they thought they had to."

And that felt like a punch had just knocked the air out of Bruce's lunges. They'd loved Phantom? When he'd spoken about those children being left to rot, had he spoken of himself? Phantom had been one of those children betrayed by their Juistrian parents for being blessed?

He did have a noble from Star Kingdom for a mother. But if she'd let herself be cut off from her family for a man from the Infinite Lands, why would she react so negatively to Phantom's blessing?

She'd died when Phantom had still been a child. That was how Lord Dantrey came to be. So maybe Phantom hadn't realised it himself back then, but to Bruce that did not sound like his mother had went with his father willingly. Or perhaps he'd hidden his origins until it had been too late?

Perhaps his father had been a traitor, and that was why she had even considered taking him as her husband?

"Danny…" Lord Dantrey sighed and lowered his hand again.

"She loved me," Phantom repeated again, voice quiet and raw, "She just… didn't know better. She thought I wasn't myself anymore, that's all."

Lord Dantrey sighed again, then looked up at Bruce with a soft smile. "My brother was one of the children chased out of their home after being blessed," he confirmed in a soft but angry voice, "Without that blessing, he would have died. He was eight at the time. Two weeks after that his family died in the war. Danny only probably survived because he wasn't with them. It took a whole moon for him to find out because the rest of his home town wouldn't tell him anything. He sought asylum with the Ancient Clockwork after that, became known as Phantom and choose to become a child of the Lands."

"I was almost nine," Phantom still defended that woman, albeit weakly, "And I knew how to fight. She knew I could survive by myself."

It didn't sound like that to Bruce. It sounded to him like his mother had seen him as a monster just for surviving and wished him dead, but been too scared to do it herself. It sounded like her love for her son had been so fragile that even something so trivial could shatter it. It sounded like she hadn't been a good mother.

Bruce also knew that if Phantom didn't want to hear it even from his own brother, it sure wasn't Bruce's place to say anything.

But it reminded Bruce of how surprised the High Chief had looked when they'd given way to his demands. He'd had this entire master plan to accomplish his goals without bloodshed, but he'd seemed to have assumed they would have rather endured another Great Siege than to submit to him.

It made more and more sense why Phantom was making the threats he did, and why he had singled out Oliver at the negotiations. He must still resent his maternal family, even if he tried to believe they hadn't abandoned him without reason. He must have thought there was no way to avoid another war, even with all his scheming.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," Bruce said. He hadn't thought he would ever say those words to the High Chief, much less mean them. But here he was. Because at the end of the day, no matter how cruel Phantom could be and how bloody his ascent to the throne had been, no child deserved to be treated like that.

Eight years old, probably close to the ninth birthday. Younger than Damian. About as old as Bruce had been when he'd lost his own parents. About as old as Dick had been when Bruce had taken him in.

The High Chief gave him a soft smile. "Thank you, your majesty. And… I'm sorry for threatening you. You're a good parent. I… shouldn't have assumed."

Well, that was true. But at the same time, Bruce couldn't help but understand why he would have done that. "Considering your experiences it only made sense," he acknowledged, "Rather than that, I'm glad you would have protected my son if I would have been capable of being so cruel to him. At least I know if I send him to learn under you he will be protected."

Phantom's smile deepened. "He is of the Lands, so it's my responsibility. And even if it wasn't, I would have done that anyways. They'll both be safe with me."

As long as Bruce didn't force his hand, he didn't add. But then again, at least Bruce knew it was truly forcing he would have to do.

With a nod, Phantom stood. Lord Dantrey followed suit. "Alright. I will go and ask Tucker about making that charm. There's much you have to process and much you'll have to think about. I'd also assume emotions are high right now. So I'll leave you to it."

When none of them voiced an objection, Phantom nodded again and left with Lord Dantrey in tow.

The door closed quietly behind them, but the sound still seemed to resonate through the entire room.

Chapter Text

As they added the veð laukr the potion turned blue. Which, huh. That wasn't supposed to happen. It should've glowed white once and the returned to its red-ish black hue. Is was neither black nor red-ish. This was a very bright azure.

Carefully stirring the potion until the color had fully changed, Tucker started adding firestone to neutralise it. They would have to start over, but fortunately Tucker had packed enough ingredients for that. Instead of saying that out loud, however, he simply asked: "Something on your mind today, your highness?"

He was met with silence for a while. That was alright, he had time as he stirred the now useless potion. Not like he could do anything until this was transparent again anyways. Still, he was almost done with that when the prince finally spoke up: "Phantom explained something to us this morning."

Uh-oh.

"It was about my brother. Jason. About his blessing, to be precise. We seem to have placed him in danger without knowing, and I have to admit the thought has left me somewhat… uneasy. I have found that I dislike being so unprepared. My family usually fulfils higher standards than this."

Ah. Okay. Not too bad, then. Nodding, Tucker put the potion to the side. He turned around to the young prince, sighed at the troubled look in his young eyes. "I understand that. Magic is such a strange topic, and every time you think you know what's happening you're blind sided by some new information and feel thrown back to the beginning. And there's so little knowledge on the topic available on this side of the Cursed Lands to begin with."

The prince pursed his lips. "I did not even think to seek out what was available."

"Hm… That's probably for the best," Tucker pondered, shrugging, "I did, when I was still living in Star. And let me tell you, your highness, the information you'll find is based on superstition and rumours. Prejudice too, in most cases. There's barely any truth in them. There's a saying for that in the Lands: When Nocturn doesn't answer, don't go asking Vortex."

"The Ancient of Sleep and the Ancient of Storms?" The prince asked confused, blinking at Tucker adorably as he tried to figure out what it could mean. "I think your nonsensical sayings are beyond me."

Chuckling, Tucker nodded. "Yeah, that one's a bit far fetched. The point is that you shouldn't ask someone who has no idea just because you can't reach the actual source of information. They use it to mean that it's better not to have any information than to rely on false ones." Tucker smiled at the prince. "My point is, even if you had found something it's unlikely it would've made the situation better rather than worse. You didn't have the means to learn more, so it's not your fault you didn't know."

That didn't seem to have helped the prince much. What else could he do, though? Hm… If it was a lack of knowledge that was troubling the prince, Tucker could at least help with that. "I've brought some books about Realms magic with me," he mentioned, "They're from the Lands, so you know you can actually rely on the information. I've read them a lot of times, and I don't really need them anymore." Or more like if he did he could easily find new copies at home. "If you'd like and don't mind them being used you could have them. Maybe you won't feel as unprepared next time, then."

"Phantom won't get upset you shared this knowledge with me?" the prince asked. His voice was politely curious, but there was something sharp in his eyes. Tucker wasn't sure what went on in the royal's head, but the child was obviously testing the waters. For what, Tucker didn't know.

Regardless, the answer was an easy one. "He won't be. And even if he would be, those are my books. I can do with them as I please - especially since there's a clause about freely exchanging literature in the new treaty."

"I see… In that case, I would be obliged." Tucker got a stiff nod from the boy, and he had to remind himself that he was talking to a royal and snorting would be inappropriate. Obliged, huh? So formal for a child his age.

"Alright, then I will get them sorted out later. Does that take care of your worries for now?" When he got another nod, a curious one this time, he smiled. "Alright. Because in that case we'll need to remake the potion. Your distraction had an effect on it, I'm afraid." When he saw the shocked and guilty face the prince made, Tucker immediately tried to wave his worry away. "It happens. Happened to me many times, too. It's why it's so important to know how you can tell it worked or failed. Fortunately, I have enough of all the ingredients."

"That is fortunate," the prince nodded but still took a step back.

Frowning, Tucker remembered the first time this had happened to him. He'd lost all confidence in his skills and nearly given alchemy up entirely. He didn't want the prince to feel the same way. After all, the child had real talent. He might very well be the first person from the Juistria League that mastered the alchemy used in the Infinite Lands. It would help a great deal with the whole treaty and building trust thing that Danny had going on, he was sure.

But more than that, alchemy was fun. It was interesting and exciting, and he'd seen the way the prince's eyes lit up with every new discovery and information. He didn't want the child to loose that, especially since Tucker would soon be gone and nobody would encourage him to keep learning.

So Tucker hummed. "Do you remember the recipe we used?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes. I'm not so distracted that I would forget so soon." The prince obviously didn't know where Tucker was going with this, and he would even wager a guess that the twitch in his eye had been suppressed suspicion.

"Then, your highness," Tucker offered with a smile, "how about you do it yourself this time? Of course, I'll be here if you should have any questions."

"If you hit that any harder, the king might charge you for a damaged training hall."

Danny didn't bother turning around at Dan's voice, but he did stop his attack on the training dummy.

Standing back, he changed his sword to the left hand, shaking out his right wrist. Should he try swinging with his left for a while? He was wearing his gloves, and the solstice was almost upon them. It hurt and Frostbite had warned him he might loose the use of that hand completely if he overdid it, but could he really allow his skills to get rusty? What if something happened, what if he injured his right shoulder and couldn't fight with that arm? Surely just a few swings with his left should be fine. Only just to make sure he could if and when there was an emergency.

"Is it really that upsetting that King Wayne loves his son regardless?" Dan sighed somewhere behind him, though Danny could hear the genuine concern in his voice as he did. "I mean, that's what you hoped for. Isn't it?"

"I'm not upset," Danny insisted, deciding that he'd just go ahead and swing. He was worse with his left, the swings less practiced and less stable. He didn't hit quite where he meant to, either, always just a bit off mark. The pain that soon spread in his wrist and crawled up his entire left side wasn't helping either. "It's a good thing. Why would I be upset?"

The silence behind him told him exactly what Dan thought about that. Well, then that was his problem. Danny was good, after all. Everything had worked itself out. He was fine. Elated.

When his sword missed, Danny kicked the dummy. He might have misjudged his strength, because the thing went flying until it crashed against the wall. Both were fine, though, so who cared? He could just pick it up and built it up again. He always built things up again, after all. He was an Ancients damned professional at it at this point.

"I dunno," Dan sighed, clearly exasperated, "But you clearly are. So?"

"So what?" Danny retorted, voice cold as the ice inside of him. His left hand crying out in pain at the too forceful swing, Danny threw the sword to the ground before he marched his way over to the dummy. It was heavy, but it wasn't an issue to drag it back over to where it was supposed to be. The familiar motions just needed a bit of blessed strength behind them. Good thing Pandora did give him a blessing for that.

"So why are you treating that training dummy like it's got silver-streaked hair and calls itself Plasmius?" Dan waited patiently for about a whole second before storming over and catching Danny's fist before he could hurt himself. The tremors in his hand was too bad to pick up his sword again, so he had been about to punch the thing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Danny insisted with a glare, but faltered under just one worried look from his brother's red eyes. Sighing, he allowed himself to slump against Dan. He knew he would be caught.

They were silent for a while. They didn't move apart from Dan lowering them to the floor so Danny could sit curled up in Dan's lap. Like some sort of fragile child. He knew he must have seemed the part just now. But that was fine. He could be fragile, at least if it was just the two of them. Dan understood, he knew. His brother might actually be the only person in the whole world who would understand. Because as much as his friends and sisters tried, Ancients bless them, they did not share memories like Dan and Danny did.

Danny had made sure they would never know the full extend of what happened.

"They loved me," Danny whispered after what felt like hours of just listening to Dan's heart beat away. "I know my family loved me. They would have come around eventually. It's just that I didn't know how to explain it right back then. If only we would have had a bit more time I know they… They would have come around. They would have learned to accept it."

Dan nodded, a callused hand coming up to caress the back of Danny's head. "But not like that."

Danny thought about purple eyes and red hair. About a kind smile and the most beautiful laugh he could imagine to this day, so similar to Elle's laugh. He thought about a hulking form much like Dan's, black hair and early morning training sessions.

Danny didn't remember his mother's voice. But he remembered the unadulterated hatred in her voice as she spoke of magic, her conviction that everything evil was rooted within it's mystic powers.

He could not remember what his father would like to eat for dinner, but he remembered how he would kill soldiers from across the border mercilessly even as they begged. He remembered a warm embrace and whispered reassurances that in time he would come to understand why it was necessary.

He knew his parents loved him with every fiber of their being. He knew that was the sole reason he was not killed when he returned to Amity. Why they had allowed him to keep living despite not believing him that he was actually their son: He had looked like their child, and they could not kill anything wearing their beloved son's face. Not even when they believed it to be a vicious monster.

Then he thought about the easy acceptance King Bruce Wayne had for his son. The immediate and almost instinctual way he'd been able to accept his son was of the Lands. The king loved the prince, no matter what. Had been surprised and insulted at the insinuation this was not expected, had been appalled to learn why.

"No," Danny agreed with a voice that sounded about as broken as he felt, "Not like that."

They were alone. If he were to freeze the whole room in an emotional fit now, nobody would be hurt. So Danny allowed himself to fall apart against Dan's chest, just for the moment. For the first time since any of this had started, Danny allowed himself to mourn his parent's love - the love he'd thought granted before returning changed and blessed.

"The gods don't hate me," Jason marveled. Tested the words on his tongue. They felt weird, but knowing saying them wasn't blasphemous made his blood rush in a good way. "The gods didn't punish me. They never hated me."

He loved that he could say those words honestly again, hated what they meant for his future. He marveled, as he raised his hand to look at it, how easily Phantom had changed his perception about himself from "What did I do wrong to deserve becoming this?" to "A god saw me and thought I was worth saving". Jason feared the kind of influence Phantom's tales obviously had on scars within himself he'd considered long since healed. He was elated that he had an excuse to go with his brother and protect him now, and he loathed that it meant leaving his beloved home and his annoyingly endearing family behind.

Jason could see many of those emotions reflected within the eyes of his father and elder brother as they watched Jason observing his own body in a completely different light.

"I knew it," Dick lied, smile just a tad too dim to be completely honest, "Who could ever really hate you, after all?"

Jason couldn't help but scoff at that. "More than enough people, and you know it."

"Jaylad…"

Jason waved B's concern away. "Their opinion doesn't matter, don't worry about it."

For the first time in a long while, he found he actually meant those words. Now knowing the gods didn't share those opinions, their scorn didn't cut so deep any longer.

Deciding it was time to address the less pleasant news, Jason sat up straight on the sofa he'd been lounging on. "So," he said, stapling his hands in a gesture he knew and refused to acknowledge he'd inherited from Bruce, "I am going to be training in the Infinite Lands."

Dick winced with tears suddenly in his eyes and Bruce looked like someone had just stolen one of his organs. Still, his father nodded decisively. "There is no other option. Not when keeping you under those spells puts you in danger."

"It's not forever," Jason said, not knowing whether he was trying to comfort his family or himself, "and I will be able to protect Tim. Being appointed his official guard will mean I'll get to watch out for him."

But it will also put you in danger, Dick didn't say. Instead, he hummed thoughtfully and said: "I can't imagine either of the brothers will personally train you. So there might be some… lingering feelings about the war that you might need to deal with."

An understandable concern. One Jason had himself. Under Phantom's protection or not, he would be an outsider getting a glimpse into their training. Something which, he was sure, the people of that country must treasure as something almost sacred. Every other warrior nation he knew off did, after all. And not only that, he would not be traveling there as a diplomat or a prince. He would be the lowly guard of a political hostage. His standing would not be very good.

Then again, he'd dealt with gossip and assholes before. And since the Infinite Lands seemed to value strength more than almost anything else, well, Jason was confident he would be able to gain some standing at least.

Not everyone could be as monstrously strong and fierce as Lord Dantrey after all, could they?

…

Perhaps he should mentally prepare himself for whatever being looked down upon by the warriors of the Infinite Lands was like.

"I have a feeling Lord Dantrey will protect me," he honestly hummed, leaning back to look at the ceiling. He'd never thought he would say that about the feared General Shadow, but, well… "We're actually getting along surprisingly well. He's a decent person, and he honestly regrets what he did during the war. Apparently that was before he met his brother and before he learned what empathy even was."

Of course he learned empathy from none other than Phantom, so Jason really wasn't sure how well he understood it. At the very least his understanding of empathy as a whole must have been flawed, considering what Phantom seemed to view as a kindness or mercy.

How strange, Jason thought, that Lord Dantrey was the brother he could trust more. He still hadn't managed to get over the realisation that Lord Dantrey, once General Shadow, the one who chose to be Phantom's brother, was a better person than the High Chief. Kinder, more understanding, more human in all the ways that mattered.

Clearing his throat, Jason looked back at his brother and father. "Point is," he smiled at them, "I'll at least have someone there whom I've build rapport with. I'll be fine."

Maybe it was a friendship, even. Though neither term felt quite right. Perhaps in time Jason would be able to figure out what the two of them were to each other.

Maybe they would find the time to spare for that question during his stay in that godforsaken country.

"You can't just rely on his protection, though," Dick mused, lips twisting into an unhappy frown, "Jay, you'll have to be incredibly cautious there. You're at a disadvantage pretty much the entire time, you're standing won't be good and they'll constantly be making sure to exclude you from anything that you shouldn't know about. It'll be dangerous for you there, maybe even more so than for Tim. And you know they'll use your relationship against you."

"I know," Jason all but spat, annoyed his brother thought he was careless enough not to be aware of these things, "If I fuck up, they'll let it out on Tim. If Tim messes up somehow, they'll take it out on me. That's obvious. And I know that Lord Dantrey can't always protect me, nor would he if it was against his clan or what he believes to be the interest of his people. Even if they might not be trying to hurt us, Lord Dantrey and Phantom are using us as collateral. I'm not going to start shit in a situation like that!"

Bruce sighed deeply. "Well. If nothing else, Phantom seems to view you as one of his own. If his brother is to be believed, then he protects his people fiercely. And considering his demeanour earlier I am inclined to believe this much to be true. Of course, that doesn't mean the rest of his people will think the same… Still. Being blessed by Hiemis should at least give you some resemblance of a stable footing."

"…I'm still concerned about those religious implications that Phantom mentioned," Dick sighed.

Jason nodded, loathing that he had to admit as much. "Me too. I understand why he would keep it a secret considering that I am not about to remain in the Infinite Lands, but I don't buy his excuse. There is no way religious believes tied to my blessing wouldn't affect me during my stay there."

"Hiemis is a god, right?" Dick mused, "And there's a myth about the gods and the Ancients fighting… Maybe being blessed by Hiemis is a bad thing?"

Jason shook his head at his brother's carefully voiced concern. "No. Phantom himself is blessed by Hiemis. If it was a bad thing then he would have tried to hide it. And with how he spoke about that dead god, I think Hiemis might have betrayed the other gods in their myths? It would explain why we don't know about him even though he's supposed to be one of ours."

"I think we do know about him, actually," Bruce interjected, gaining surprised looks from both his sons. "Hiemes, son of Letate and Cael, god of seasons. That is what Phantom called him when he first mentioned him, correct?"

Dick gasped, and Jason closed his eyes when he pieced together the obvious.

"In the beginning of men," Jason quoted one of their own myths, "the gods created monsters, some to roam the earth and some as their messengers. Those messengers grew up playing with the child of Letate, who had been born through Cael's love for her. The young god created the four seasons for them, as days seemed to short a measurement for their immortal time, and a year to long for things as trivial as play time. Winter for them to sleep, spring for them to make plans, summer for them to play and autumn for them to clean up and wind down.

"But one winter, the monsters did not go to sleep. Instead, they betrayed the gods. And Letate's son, still young for a god, did not understand why the gods and his friends were fighting once he woke back up. He tried to stop their fighting, and in doing so the only god to have been born died. The monsters were banished for that crime, but Letate demanded they should not be killed as that would have made her loss more senseless than before.

"Nowadays, the only trace left by any of this are the seasons repeating unknowing that their creator is gone, and Letate's deeply rooted hatred for traitors of any kind."

Bruce nodded solemnly. "Our stories don't mention the name of that child. It's only ever referenced as the young god. Still, I believe his name must have been Hiemis."

"Does that mean," Dick asked slowly, "that the Ancients are the messengers of the gods that betrayed them? Was that the war between the Gods and the Ancients that the Infinite Lands talk about?"

"I-" Jason blinked in surprise. He'd always assumed the myths of the Infinite Lands to be some fantastical tales they'd come up with to cope with the fact that the gods had cast their country out. After all, in a land as dangerous as theirs knowing there was no divine protection to be had surely would have driven them mad. Or, well, mad-er.

But if this was true, then the kingdoms of the League and the Infinite Lands didn't have to different religions after all. Rather, their religious believes were two sides of the same coin.

But also, did that mean Tim and him were about to not only travel to a land abandoned by the gods but into the place where they had exiled their greatest enemies to? Jason wasn't sure what he should think about that.

And, wait, wouldn't that make the "blessings" of the Infinite Lands, which they'd gotten from those dragons, unholy in nature?

It was all too much, Jason decided. he could not be thinking about this too deeply, not when he was about to live among the people who worshiped the Ancients and certainly not when his survival depended on their goodwill.

"Let's not think about that now," he decided, "More importantly, do you think we could smuggle some weapons for Tim into my luggage? I'm supposed to protect him, after all, so I'm probably allowed to bring some weapons, right?"

"That…" Bruce hummed thoughtfully. "That might actually work. Good thinking, Jaylad."

Chapter Text

Facing the prince after how he'd behaved wasn't easy.

He'd done so to protect one of his own, sure, and he felt like the king and all his other in-laws-to-be understood as much. Still, he'd made a mess out of it. And when he hadn't needed to at all, too! He felt ashamed that he had threatened a man who was so very important to his fiancé, who was about to become his own family in just a few days. And his reaction…

He'd really not shown his best side that morning. Good thing he'd spend some time with the prince before then. At least this way, he held hope that Prince Timothy knew Danny wasn't just usually like that.

Still, even after his emotional breakdown in Dan's arms Danny had refused to meet anyone. He'd shut himself into the quarters he'd been provided to sulk and to deal with the storm of emotion inside of him by himself. Too regretful and too ashamed of how he'd handled things earlier, he hadn't even come out for dinner. Dan, ever the worrywart, had brought some of the dinner to his quarters, despite his insistence that he was not hungry.

Danny had not touched the food. He knew he should have. He knew he needed to eat. But he was too emotionally raw still to touch any of it.

He managed to eat breakfast, but still hid away like a coward. He send another two letters, one to each of his sisters, and worked on his wedding gift to his betrothed. Instead of, you know, facing him.

It was when the afternoon came around that Danny decided he'd played coward for long enough. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he'd finally finished to cloak and was now left without anything to occupy his hands and distract his mind. It did have everything to do with the fact that he didn't want to miss the afternoon tea with prince Timothy, which had almost become a habit by now, a third day in a row.

Surprisingly, when Danny opened his door he found none other than his betrothed himself in front of it, poised to knock. It was the first time the prince had come to look for Danny directly, and from what he understood after his short stay here that was pretty… uncouth would be the word Ellie would use, he thinks.

He looked pretty as he flushed, his mouth open in a soft gast. Prince Timothy wore a green shirt today, one that reminded Danny of the magic back home. His lips stretched into a nervous smile, and Danny's heart skipped a beat.

Three days until their wedding. Almost two.

Why did Danny shut himself into his room? He could have spend more time with this wonderful man. If only he wouldn't have let his own regrets get in his way again, like always. He should have just apologised again, done what he had to to make up for his behaviour. It wasn't too late, was it?

What if Prince Timothy had come to tell him he would cancel the wedding? Danny knew he would agree to it, of course. However, he did not know how he could live on in that case.

Dan was right, Danny realised in this moment: He was utterly besotted. It was almost pathetic, but he adored this prince so much. He didn't love him, not quite yet, not so soon. But he could. He was starting to. For the first time in his life, Danny could imagine himself allowing someone new to join their family.

He'd always fought for his family, and he was fiercely protective of them. Too much so at times, he knew that. And he loved them, more than he could put into words. But that also meant he knew he couldn't just allow people to get that close or else it would destroy him. But with the prince…

"I'm sorry," Danny said, before prince Timothy could get anything out, "for threatening your father like that. I just…"

"You were worried," the prince nodded, to Danny's utter surprise, "I understand why you would be. While Bruce might not be able to imagine why you would have assumed he would react badly, I do. My own parents - the ones that gave birth to me, I mean. They, would have… been unhappy. In the same situation my brother finds himself in, I assume I would have found myself declared dead."

If it'd come from someone who knew Danny's past he probably would have felt insulted. But the prince smiled wryly, eyes averted. So instead, Danny was left feeling stumped.

"How do you do it?" Danny whispered, not daring to speak his words any louder, "How can you keep acting normal when you know your own parents would have…"

He couldn't finish that sentence. Judging by the look on the prince's face, he didn't have to.

"At first I couldn't," Prince Timothy admitted just as softly, a smile dancing around his lips, "It hurt and felt unfair. But I know that in their own way, my parents loved me. Besides, now I have all of my siblings and Bruce. And if anything were to happen they would choose to stand by my side. We might argue, and we might get angry with each other, but when it really counts I know I will always be able to rely on them."

"Yes," Danny smiled, glad that someone else got it, "That's exactly what it's like, right? I mean, it still hurts, of course. But when you have family that will choose you above all else that… that helps, doesn't it?"

"It truly does," Prince Timothy nodded, smile deepening.

For a moment, they just stood there ein the hallway like that. Danny felt himself falling even more for the prince in that moment. But since it would have become awkward if he allowed this to drag on, Danny cleared his throat to cut through the silence. "Right. You were about to knock. Can I help you with something?"

Again, the prince blushed a pretty shade of red. "Ah, right. Yes, of course. I was merely… Well, we have not shared tea time together the last few days, and I thought perhaps you would like to join me again?"

It was like the prince could read Danny's mind. Feeling much lighter than before, Danny let out a soft laugh under his breath. "How strange," he smirked, "I was just about to go ask you the exact same question."

Everything has to be perfect, Timothy, his mother used to say, or you will never impress anyone. And love, my dear, always comes from a place of awe.

Tim had admit that he wasn't sure she'd been right in most things anymore, but this was the first time he loved someone and the High Chief sure was awe inspiring in many ways. Not just to Tim, either, he was objectively one of the most impressing people of their time. So if Tim was to stand by his side - insurance or trophy or whatnot - he, too, needed to be someone worthy of respect. If he couldn't even manage that much, then Tim knew he would be too ashamed to show his face to anyone ever again.

And, well, he did hope to warm Danny to the idea of actually being lovers one day. Though he knew it was unlikely.

But that was besides the point!

After the conversation yesterday Danny had shut himself in the suite they'd given him and refused to come out of it. Their wedding was approaching and Tim knew Danny had not been happy to have that conversation with them. He had not been happy when they were done, either, though he seemed positively surprised by their reactions.

Still, Tim feared for their future together if the two of them would start their life as a married couple with such frigidity. Besides, the wedding guest would arrive starting tomorrow. For the sake of the overall sentiment towards the budding peace with the Infinite Lands, he just couldn't allow any tension between Danny and himself to be felt. Especially since their relationship was actually… well, not perfect but pretty good all things considered. Better than was to be expected, even.

So, to fix things between the two of them Tim was going to invite Danny to tea again. Since he'd never denied Tim an invitation to afternoon tea, and he had seemed to always enjoy the time spend together in this way. He had even mentioned looking for Tim the day before yesterday because of it.

But if he wanted to fix anything, then everything had to be absolutely perfect.

He had noticed that Danny seemed to prefer eclairs and biscuits over scones or sandwiches. Interestingly enough, he also seemed to enjoy fruit tarts, but his reaction to them ranged from elated to nostalgic to downright melancholic and Tim was certainly not about to take a chance on them today. Instead, he chose strawberry and chocolate eclairs to be prepared.

Danny preferred a gentle tea flavour. To get that, Tim had to slowly add the water into the leaves to brew and be very conscious of the brewing time. And while Danny didn't seem to have noticed himself, he enjoyed infused tea the most. So Tim chose a nice blend of Mystrica Rose that Constantine had gifted him last time Bruce hadn't managed to avoid relying on the mage.

Danny liked a bit of milk in his tea, but not cream. So Tim made sure to only serve milk in the first place. As for sweetness, Danny himself liked to add honey, but Tim had noticed that ever since he'd mentioned liking rose sugar Danny had enjoyed watching Tim add that to his own cup. So he prepared both.

Danny would also probably be hungry. He hadn't eaten lunch, dinner or breakfast and - Tim glanced at his watch - was currently missing another lunch. So while Danny liked eclairs more, Tim suspected serving a couple of scones with butter and jam as well would do nicely. After all, Danny must be very hungry right now.

He would use the good tea set, the one he'd inherited from his mother. The one she'd always used to receive the guests whose company she enjoyed. Tim also made sure that there weren't any cracks or chips in the fine china. There weren't, of course. If there was, his mother would have long since risen from her grave to shout at him for it. Still, just to make sure.

Oh, the tea was done. Tim carefully set the pot onto the stove, lighting the candle beneath.

Now. As for Tim himself. He'd already fixed his hair and applied light make-up as soon as the idea had stuck him. But what should he wear?

Silk, probably. Not only did Danny like to wear that magical silk equivalent, but he also seemed to like seeing Tim draped in silks. Red, perhaps? Tim liked to wear red and he had a lot of clothing to choose from in that colour. But then again, red was the colour of Letate and wearing the colour of the goddess of war when his goal was to reconcile? Not that Danny necessarily knew as much, but it would still feel wrong and that could make Tim unsure of himself, which in turn would certainly lead to a misstep.

Blue, perhaps? Danny had commented on the colour of Tim's eyes before. He'd called them pretty. Blue would certainly play into that. Then again, cool colours might make him seem colder. Less approachable. That wasn't something he could risk. So what-

In the back of his closet was a shirt he hadn't worn a lot. It'd been a gift from Damian when his youngest brother had finally accepted Tim as such. Green like the magic waters his grandfather's blessing created, like the national colours of Nanda Parbat. Green like the magic of the Infinite Lands, too, like Danny's eyes.

He refused to think about it more deeply, changing into that shirt. That should work well, right? Draping himself in Danny's colours? He certainly hoped so.

The room was already decorated. Tim had gone for ice colours. They were soft and gentle, and he hoped they would have a calming effect. He had avoided any flowers, since as much as Danny had seemed to like the roses they didn't fit the theme and Tim wasn't sure about any allergies. He'd asked Danny about them before, of course, but since there weren't a lot of flowers in the Infinite Lands Danny had to admit that he himself didn't know. But he did have allergies to some flowers native only to the Infinite Lands.

Taking a deep breath, Tim opened the door to his own quarters, hoping to find a servant he could send to Danny.

Danny was… not very concerned with what was proper.

The thought brought Tim to a sudden stop. Gentle touches and hugs even in front of Tim's family, holding Tim's hand without asking beforehand even in front of others, calling Tim by nicknames even in front of the servants and other such acts filled his mind.

It wasn't proper, he thought blushing as he stood in the middle of the hallway. It was embarrassing when they were neither lovers nor married, would have been embarrassing even if they were that close. He'd never even though about doing such a thing except in the safety of the family wing where he could be as childish and uncouth as he wanted to. Yet something told him that, considering how Danny had acted so far, Tim would need to be more forward if he wanted to endear himself to his future husband.

So taking another deep breath - and then another, since one just wasn't enough - he deviated from his mother's script in a way he'd never thought he would. As uncouth and unbecoming of a prince as it was, Tim walked to Danny's door himself. Not inviting him through a servant but inviting Danny himself, all but demanding an answer and coming to see Danny's genuine first reaction was incredibly bold. But in this case? It just felt like the right thing to do.

That didn't make knocking any easier. Hand poised to knock, Tim just stood in the hallway like an utter moron. How could he actually go through with this? This was so shameful! His mother surely would have screamed at him for it, even if it was what needed to be done to win Danny back.

You are the son of a Duke, he could all but hear her scoff, venom dripping from her red lips. Your actions do not only paint you in a poor light, you are disgracing your entire family! Do you intend for people to think you were raised to be some wench without class?

But this was important! And Danny wouldn't think badly about him for it. Would he? He'd done basically the same before, after all! It would make Danny happy, not disgusted with Tim. He was sure of it. But, well, his noble upbringing didn't exactly allow for him to just… just do something like this.

Before he could strategically retreat and find a servant because he just couldn't do this, the door suddenly opened. Danny, clothed in a casual outfit and hair cascading down his shoulders unbraided, stood there, eyes wide open in surprise.

Tim should… He should lower his hand. He should say something. Explain himself. He should do something, smooth over this awkward moment.

Instead, all he could do was blush.

He could all but see Danny's thoughts running wild, and the other man's soft lips pulled down into a frown. Oh no. Had he offended Danny after all? Tim had to say something. Do something. Anything. But what?

Panicked, he opened his mouth to at least stutter out an apology because he couldn't think of anything to say. But before he could, Danny's voice cut him off in a soft rumble.

"I'm sorry," he said, surprising Tim. Then, like an afterthought: "For threatening your father like that. I just…"

Danny worried his lips, and oh. Oh. Danny also didn't know how to explain himself. That's why he hadn't said anything, why he'd frowned. It wasn't about Tim being here. Relief felt like a boulder being lifted off of his chest, allowing him to breath much more freely.

Since it was obvious that Danny couldn't find the words, Tim decided to do it for him. Smiling he nodded. "You were worried. I understand why you would be." And that wasn't even a lie. Yesterday, when Danny had revealed his concerned regarding Bruce's reaction, all Tim had been able to think about was how his own mother would have reacted poorly despite any promise she would have made beforehand.

Not that she would have made the same promise Bruce had, not even with a knife pointed at her throat. That's just the kind of woman the last Duchess Drake had been.

When Tim noticed how surprised Danny seemed to be by his reaction, Tim's smile deepened and he explained: "While Bruce might not be able to imagine why you would have assumed he would react badly, I do. My own parents - the ones that gave birth to me, I mean. They, would have-" How could he word this without talking bad about the dead? "-been unhappy. In the same situation my brother finds himself in, I assume I would have found myself declared dead."

"How," Danny's soft voice pulled Tim's eyes back onto his fiancé and, wait, when had he even averted his eyes, "do you do it? How can you keep acting normal when you know your own parents would have…"

Abandoned you for it, Tim filled in the black. He understood why Danny didn't say it. Some things were easier to leave unspoken, after all.

Tim thought about saying something pretty and empty. Some nice words to soothe the wounds Danny obviously still carried from his mother's reaction to his magic. But in the end that would have felt like a betrayal of all Tim had gone through to get to this point, to all the patience his family had shown him and all the care they'd given his healing process. So he answered honestly.

"At first I couldn't. It hurt and felt unfair." He thought about the times he'd seen Bruce show his affection, awkward and emotionally constipated as his father always was, to Dick. The soft tones and tears that always came with any mention of Jason. The ugly jealousy and his own guilty heart for feeling that way.

He also thought about his mother. How the woman had defended Tim's honour and made sure everyone knew he was a Drake, no matter whether his parents were absent or not. How his father had glowered at anyone who looked at Tim inappropriately, even if his mother tried to tell him that in the long run this would serve Tim well. Not yet, he would tell her. He knew that his mother had thought her education would give Tim the weapons needed to survive noble society later on. He knew they had made sure none of their distant relatives could get their hands on any of Tim's inheritance.

They hadn't been perfect. Not even decent, most of the time. "But I know that in their own way, my parents loved me," Tim said, needed to say, to make sure the world heard as much.

Ah, wait. He hadn't answered Danny's question yet. He should get back on topic and out of his own head. So he continued: "Besides, now I have all of my siblings and Bruce. And if anything were to happen they would choose to stand by my side. We might argue, and we might get angry with each other, but when it really counts I know I will always be able to rely on them."

And by now, Tim knew all of this to be true. Even if he also knew that his family would not be able to reach him soon, try as they might. Still, he felt like that wasn't a good thing to add right now. Danny knew about that himself anyways.

And by the way Danny's shoulders relaxed and he smiled brightly, Tim's honesty had been the right answer anyways. "Yes! That's exactly what it's like, right? I mean, it still hurts, of course. But when you have family that will choose you above all else that… that helps, doesn't it?"

Lord Dantrey must have been Danny's anchor like Bruce and his hoard of official and unofficial siblings had been for Tim. He thought he must have known this before, but this was the first moment Tim consciously realised it. It gave Tim a strange feeling of solidarity with Danny.

He hoped Danny felt the same.

"It really does," Tim agreed with his betrothed. He didn't even need to feign his agreement, instead he felt it resonate all through his heart.

Blue eyes met glowing green ones, and Tim suddenly felt like those eery eyes weren't actually eery at all. The green colour wasn't warm, and yet Danny's eyes seemed to be. And wasn't that just it? Tim knew magic to be disruptive and dangerous. But if what Lord Dantrey had said was right, then to Danny it wasn't just an integral part of his culture, it was his lifeline. Without it, he would have died. That glow, it wasn't a testament to his strength. It was a battle scar, reminding Danny of how he had beat the most unlikely odds and survived what should have killed him.

It was something he'd been rejected and betrayed about before.

Had Danny noticed that Tim had been unnerved by the glowing gaze before? Had that reawoken bad memories he'd put to sleep somewhere deep in his mind?

Tim shouldn't keep acting like that. If he thought about it now, that gaze wasn't really unnerving. Just unfamiliar. After all, it turned out even his brother's eyes didn't glow because of a curse. Just an uncontrolled blessing. And though Tim hadn't been in the room with them, he had heard Jason's astonished voice yesterday as he'd repeated again and again that the gods didn't hate him, as though he could still barely believe it. And how could something that had not only saved two lives he cared about but could also make his big brother that happy be something evil? And even if it was evil after all, did that matter under these circumstances?

That glow had never looked so kind to Tim before. So… precious.

Suddenly, Danny cleared his throat and all but ripped Tim from his musings. What…?

"Right. You were about to knock. Can I help you with something?"

Tim could barely keep the shocked gasp contained. How could he have forgotten? Gods! He was still standing in front of Danny's door after coming here to invite him himself like some uncultured cur. Well, there was nothing for it now. He should just go through with it. Not telling Danny about it would only make things worse now. Because one thing even ruder than coming here to invite Danny personally would be to have come here to disturb Danny without reason.

"Ah, right. Yes, of course. I was merely…" Tim said, feeling his face heat up like it was on fire. This was even more embarrassing than he had thought. But it might make Danny happy! So, well, he had to. "Well, we have not shared tea time together the last few days, and I thought perhaps you would like to join me again?"

Danny blinked at him in surprise for a moment, and then a big grin took over his lips. A smile so happy and giddy that it made all of Tim's embarrassment almost worth it. He still wouldn't be doing this again, it wasn't good for Tim's heart.

"How strange," Danny all but laughed, "I was just about to go ask you the exact same question."

Relieved that inviting Danny to tea had been the right decision apparently, Tim also allowed himself a soft chuckle. "Oh, I see. Well, then. Shall we? I prepared everything already."

If he didn't know better, Tim would have almost described that gaze Danny send him as wonder.

Danny nodded and gestured for Tim to lead the way as he closed his door behind himself. And, well, being uncouth had served him well just now, so Tim steeled himself and gripped Danny's hand in the middle of the hallway. All but dragging him to Tim's room felt weird, but Danny also seemed to enjoy it and Tim secretly liked the intimacy of it as well.

Who cared if his mother was screeching at Tim from somewhere in the back of his mind? It made his soon-to-be-husband happy, and wasn't that the most important lesson his mother had given him? To always make his future spouse happy? Besides, if catering to Danny and making him smile felt like this, well, Tim thought be might not mind making that his life goal.

Whether it would stay like this after they reached the Infinite Lands or when Tim couldn't ignore the knowledge that Danny would never love him like he was doing right now, well, that would reveal itself in the future.

Chapter Text

"I can barely believe it's almost time for the wedding," Danny admitted with a smile. As he did, he mustered his cup of tea once again. He knew these flowers, but why would the prince be serving them? Ellie had warned him that the nobles of the South liked to use subtext and subtle hints. Was this one of those?

When he'd asked earlier, Prince Timothy had told him the tea had been a gift from a family friend. That person must have been quite concerned about the prince's safety if they'd given this to him. After all, these flowers weren't common outside of the Lands and they were precious. Danny liked them, truth be told, and he loved their taste. But even in the Lands, the place these flowers were native to, they were too precious to serve as tea just because.

"I know, right? This past half month has just flown by," Prince Timothy refocused Danny's attention as he chuckled, gently placing his cup down and fidgeting with the edges of his napkin. He blushed a pretty pink. "I must say, I'm rather looking forward to becoming your husband. And being able to keep my brother close to me on top of that… I feel very confident in the future now."

Did that… Did that mean the prince trusted Danny now? It sounded like it. Like Prince Timothy was trusting Danny to make sure everything would be alright. And not the kind of blind faith Danny was used to, either. Not because of rumours or blessings or the Ancients saying he was meant to be the High Chief. No, trust because the prince had seen Danny, gotten to know him and then decided that, yes, he would be suitable to wager the future on.

It warmed Danny's heart. Funnily enough, Prince Timothy's trust didn't feel like a burden. Perhaps because the prince was so smart himself and would surely be able to help Danny lead both of their countries into a better future. Perhaps because they were going to be equals in marriage. Or perhaps because Danny already couldn't help but trust his smart fiancé's judgement. He didn't know wether it was any or even all of these reasons, or perhaps something else altogether. But it felt nice.

Trust, huh?

Danny looked back down into his cup. Was that was this was about? Did the prince think Danny didn't trust him? Or was he trying to make sure he could trust Danny? Or was it the exact opposite and he was trying to show that by now they could trust each other? Or perhaps he didn't even know about the flowers at all…

Should Danny just ask? Surely that wouldn't annoy the prince, right? It'd be fine. Definitely.

Gently, Danny placed the cup down again. He felt guilty at prince Timothy's frown, but still decided to decide later what to do about the tea.

"I feel the same," Danny admitted softly instead, "I was pretty nervous when we arrived at the meeting, but I don't feel that way at all anymore."

"You? Were nervous?" Prince Timothy's surprise was palpable, and Danny couldn't help but chuckle at the embarrassed gasp he made once he realised he'd asked that out loud.

To stall for a little time, Danny ate another eclair. They were really good - Danny would definitely miss the Gotham snacks once they were back home. Once his mouth was empty again, though, he nodded. "I was. Honestly, I'm surprised you couldn't tell. I am… I try not to show things like that. After all, I'm responsible for a whole nation now. They need me to be sure of my decisions at least. But try as I might, I have been told that I'm no good at hiding my feelings. At least not towards those who know me well, I suppose."

"You don't sound happy about it," the prince remarked softly.

All Danny could do was shrug. "I don't want people to worry. They've done enough of that during the war against Pariah Dark."

Danny couldn't help but notice how his betrothed winced at the mention. But before Danny was even able to react to it, the expression was tugged away behind a smile again. "No, I meant about leading a nation. You almost sound like you have regrets…"

"I don't," Danny made sure to clarify, "If I was send back in time, I'd do it all again. Though I'd try to get caught up in less traps, I guess. It's just… I didn't do it to become the next High Chief. I…" He trailed off starring into the cup. Even after all these years, he still remembered Ellie's small frame shaking in his arms as she cried her little heart out. He remembered screaming until his throat was raw once he found out about his parents. He remembered seeing the corpses and the smoke on the horizon, thinking it would never stop."I did what I had to to protect my family."

"I see," prince Timothy muttered, nodding thoughtfully, "I don't think I would be able to regret that either."

They were quiet for a moment. Danny, hating how sombre the atmosphere had turned, smiled. "But let's not talk about those bad times. You mentioned the guests would be arriving tomorrow, right? Do you know who will come?"

"Ah!" Prince Timothy straightened up a bit, nodding eagerly. "I do. Hal Jordan will come to represent the holy nation of Oa as one of their highest ranking paladins. Crown Prince Kaldur'Ahm will represent the Atlantean Islands and Tamaran will send Princess Starfire, who are both dear friends of my eldest brother. My friends Conner Kent, the first prince of Metropolis, and Bartholomew Allen, the second prince of Centralia, will join us together with their respective fathers. And as for Star Kingdom…" For some reason, the prince hesitated here. Had he noticed the way Danny's breath had caught in his throat at the mention of his family's kingdom? "First prince Roy, Jason's best friend, will be attending together with his daughter, Princess Lian."

It felt like a paralysis spell had been cast on Danny's entire being. First prince Roy? The prince's daughter? How had Danny missed such important information about his family?

Danny wasn't proud of it, but the truth was that he had gained a reputation amongst Ellie's most trusted wanderers because he'd asked about the royal family of Star so much. In fact, Snow even send him a detailed report every time she returned from wandering as she liked to wander there. So he'd always thought he had a pretty good grasp about Ollie's life now.

He knew that he'd married Felicity, a simple servant. He also knew that Ollie'd been engaged to marry Dinah Lance, the daughter of the commander of the army, for some years before that. Danny remembered her father as a dear friend to his own parents, though only by name. He remembered Ollie all but gushing about Dinah, so he had been surprised to learn that had changed.

He knew that he had two bastard sons, Connor Hawke and Robert Tomonago, who both refused to join the royal family officially, claim their right to the throne or even get involved with their father. He had also taken in Roy Harper who was now the only official heir. Rumour had it, Ollie's relationship with Roy was strained and he didn't even know where his son was most of the time. Apparently the boy had inherited his father's penchant for slipping past the royal guard regardless of the lack of shared blood.

But a daughter? Not only had Roy apparently reappeared without Danny's knowledge, no, he'd also made Ollie a grandfather. And wasn't that such an absurd thought? Ollie? A grandfather?

"Oh," Danny finally managed to whisper, clearing his throat when his voice came out sounding all weird, "I see…" He would get to meet his cousin's son and granddaughter! That was great! And they wouldn't even know who Danny was to them. Which was… Not great. "I look forward to meeting them, then."

The Prince looked at Danny weirdly for a moment, then seemed to brace himself for something. "If it's not too terribly rude to ask," he spoke up, all but hiding behind his cup, "I've noticed you seem quite… focused, on the King of Star. Is there a particular reason for that?"

Ah. The careful tone made sene now. Danny had told them about him being related to Oliver, after all. His betrothed probably didn't want to step on any toes with his question. How cute of him, he was such a considerate person.

"I suppose I am," Danny admitted with a sheepish grin and a sigh, "I knew him when we were children. He had such a special personality." Thinking of how dorky Oliver could be and how clumsy he sometimes was when it was just him, Jazz and Danny, he couldn't help but chuckle. "It's weird, to think he actually rules a kingdom now. But, well, I never thought I would have become the High Chief of the Infinite Realms, either. We're both different people now. It's just… not that easy sometimes, to leave those feelings in the past." He couldn't even imagine ever not loving his cousin. "And I'm not sure I even want to do that, either."

"I see…" The prince raised his cup, taking a slow sip. "And do you have any particular feelings about Roy, too?"

That was harder to answer. In a way, he figured they were similar. Both had been promised by Oliver that they'd always have a home, that he'd always protect them. And in the end, Oliver had driven both of them away. But in contrast to Danny, Roy had decided to leave himself. And he'd, apparently, been able to come back eventually. Their relationship didn't seem broken beyond repair.

In contrast to Danny, Oliver had not thrown Roy away once he'd turned out not to be what he'd wanted him to.

Danny understood, of course. To them, with their limited knowledge and during the war, he must have appeared like a monster. If he had survived through any other means than that blessing, he was sure his family would have never let him leave again. And yet he couldn't even resent the magic within him. It had given him Dan and Ellie, after all, had saved his life and given him everything he had now.

He just wished it hadn't been at the cost of his family's love, is all.

"I'm… curious about him. He is the Prince of Star Kingdom, after all, and in a way that makes us family." Even though it felt presumptuous of Danny to say it, considering Oliver had all but severed their ties. Still, though. "I suppose, if he would ever ask for my help or protection, I would agree."

"So your feelings regarding the king don't transfer over to the prince?" When Danny shook his head, Prince Timothy smiled, "He will be glad to hear that, I think. Roy doesn't like being compared to his adoptive father."

Danny couldn't help the soft laugh escaping him at that. "My brother is the same," he admitted, "The first time someone forwent his title and just called him High Chief Phantom's brother I thought he would kill that man. He might have, actually, if the warriors hadn't reacted just as strongly and jumped to his defence."

The prince seemed to be surprised to hear that. It showed how much Dan had grown, Danny thought with a smile, because just a few years ago that was his standard reaction. If the prince couldn't imagine Dan reacting that way then it was obvious how much better Danny's brother was doing.

Feeling nostalgic, Danny leaned back and hummed. "It was just after he'd been named Head of the Army," Danny mused, "And that idiot walked into the training grounds, knowing full well that my brother had managed to get that title. An absolute moron that, for some Ancients forsaken reason, was adamant about being in my faction. He had some sort of proposal, I think? I don't remember clearly. But it was something he needed my brother's help with. And instead of asking for a word with the Head of the Army when I sent him there, he said he needed a word with my brother. As though that was his defining factor. As though he didn't accomplish anything in his own right. And my brother was absolutely livid. I haven't often seen him get that angry, not since I named him my brother."

The prince looked more confused than anything by the story. "Why… I'm sorry, but why would he get angry about that? He is your brother, after all. And isn't family the most important thing in the culture of your homeland?"

"Family before honour, and honour before anything else," Danny quoted almost immediately, the sentence having been drilled into him like it had any other child growing up in the Lands. Still, he should clear something up here. "But being related to someone is not an achievement. It's why we value found family above the one we're born with, too. And even inheritance is not decided by blood."

"But our children would become our heirs, would they not?" The way the prince tilted his head to the side, eyes alight with curiosity was adorable. He really wanted to pull out a memory stone right there, just so he would marvel at the sight later on.

Since memory stones were expensive, though, and also since he didn't want to be creepy, Danny just smiled and answered. "They would. But they would only be in the passive line of succession. See, there's two ways to become an heir. One is to be related by blood-" Danny raised his left hand palm up "-and the other is to challenge someone for the title and best them in a duel." He raised his left hand the same way. "Now, neither of them would be able to inherit the title just yet. To do that, they would have to prove themselves and become part of the active line of succession. And even then it's not first come, fist serve. The heirs compete with each other and when the title will be passed on the heir with the strongest claim will inherit it."

"I see…" Tim hummed, nodding slowly. "And you did this as well?"

Danny nodded. "I did. Pariah didn't have any heirs, so when I overthrew him I qualified as a member of the passive line. And with the situation as it was, nobody would have minded if I'd just taken the crown. But I wanted my claim to be unquestionable, so I set out to become an active heir. It took four years, but I did it. We couldn't leave the position empty, though, so I still ruled. But my title was Presiding Heir Apparent then, not High Chief. That was, on a technicality, still the imprisoned Pariah Dark."

"Huh. I thought we only learned of your coronation last year. But that was actually when you were coronated?" Danny simply nodded at his fiancé's surprised question. "And how does one prove themselves to become an active heir?"

"It differs, from title to title. A Chief's active heir has to accomplish something to help or protect the domain that Chief rules over. Most of them just protect the domain during a solstice siege by leading the warriors at that time. But Chief Desiree for example established a new trade route, which helped the domain flourish even though they were nearly bankrupt before then. It's why she is one of the few Wanderers that managed to become a Chief. She's very proud of that."

"I see…" Danny's betrothed hummed thoughtfully. "Would that be the reason as to why she covered her face for the entire duration of the negotiations? I had wondered about that, but didn't want to come across as rude…"

Wow. He'd already figured it out? Danny's future husband was pretty smart, wasn't he? Pretty and smart, actually. The thoughtful frown on his lips highlighted his soft lips just right, and made the blue of his eyes sparkle even more…

Clearing his throat, Danny nodded. "Yes. As a Chief, she would not need to adhere to wanderer customs. However, she is very proud of the path she chose - as she should be! - and honours it by doing so. She definitely wouldn't have been insulted if you'd asked her. Actually, I think you should ask the next time, she'll be more than happy to tell you. Just… Make sure not to voice any wants or wishes?"

Confusion washed over the prince's face. "Why not?"

"Well…" How could Danny say this without making her sound bad? "Her late husband wasn't a very faithful man. She used to think it was because she couldn't make him happy enough. And now she deals with the pain by trying to give other people their happiness. That's how she got her blessing, too. But her magic has a tendency to go haywire, and she always forgets. So what usually happens is she hears that you have a wish and gets overzealous, and then you find yourself with your wish grated in the worst way imaginable. She doesn't mean harm! It's just… not an easy to control blessing."

"I see… How do her people deal with that? That sounds… tiring."

"She learned not to grant just anyone's wish," Danny proudly told his betrothed. It had taken a while, but shortly after becoming a Chief she'd actually succeeded. She was doing well, too. "By now, she only uses her blessing for those she either cares deeply for, those she respects or those in true, desperate need. Bu she respects me, and you'll be my husband in a few days. So the small group of people she respects does include you."

"Ah…" The prince looked a bit confused still, but nodded nonetheless. "And the other titles? You mentioned it was different for them?"

Right! That was what they'd been talking about. Oops, Danny had almost forgotten that. Heh.

"Well, let's see…" Danny leaned back to think about which title to explain next. It wasn't easy, seeing as he was giving his fiancé only the bare bones here. After all, traditions and myths surrounding each of the titles were complex and hard to explain. "The Head Wanderer is elected by the other wanderers," he finally said, "Anyone who wandered for more than two years at a time is eligible, and they decide by who had the most impressive journey. It's all very secretive, actually. Every available wanderer will meet at Sojourn's temple when it's time to decide on a heir, and the door will be closed for however long it takes. But my sister actually told me a little about it. Apparently, the candidates sit together and tell each other stories of their wandering. If someone think's they have a more impressive story, they say so and tell it. Then the others vote on wether or not that actually was more impressive. It goes on until no one has another story to tell. Then, they vote on wether they will trust and follow that Wanderer.

"The Head of the Guard and the Head of the Army, on the other hand, both get decided on with a tournament. It's a pretty public thing. You actually can't enter yourself, but every warrior can suggest another warrior should enter. If you are suggested, honour dictates that you have to fight. Though technically, you could still refuse. It's just that you'd be seen as a coward in that case and nobody wants that. Anyways, you have to win the tournament belonging to your title. The tournament for the Head of the Guard is always held during spring, and the tournament for Head of the Army is held during autumn. You can enter both, but you can only claim one title. And once someone managed to become a passive heir to either title - or both of them - they have to get the approval of at least three quarters of the warriors under their future care."

The prince let out a breathless laugh. "I'm starting to see why your brother would take offence to not being called by his title. Three quarters of the warriors within the Army? That's quite the impressive feat…"

Pride on behalf of his brother glowed bright within Danny's chest. "Isn't it, though? He managed to gain so much trust and prove himself, even though he started at the bottom again after leaving Pariah. And yet he's the youngest Head of the Army in our history!"

When the prince only nodded and smiled silently, Danny cleared his throat awkwardly. Right. Bragging about Dan could wait. He was still in the middle of an explanation. But where to continue…? "Oh! There's also the Head of the Weavers. That one has to invent something impressive that get acknowledged by either at least one Ancient or three of the Chiefs. It has to be their own design and it cannot be a variation of something that already exists. If at least ten other weavers acknowledge that they're impressed the inventor becomes a passive heir. But only with the acknowledgement do they become an active one. I sadly don't know more about it, though…"

"Huh." The prince's thoughtful pout was very cute. Danny did his best not to be distracted. He failed. "It certainly sounds like a good way to keep them interested in trying new things. It does appear like an effective way to stimulate innovation."

"I suppose…" Danny really hadn't ever thought about it like that. And when those sharp, intelligent eyes met his own, Danny thought about a lot of things but certainly not what was or wasn't conductive to innovation.

"Are there any other titles? Besides your own, of course."

The question managed to startle Danny out of his brainless staring somewhat. He softly shook his head. "The tile of the High Chief is the last of the more important ones. The others are all minor titles and get bestowed, not earned through an active inheritance line." And then, because he felt like his fiancé would probably find it interesting, he added: "To become an active heir to the crown of fire, you have to be of the Ancients and need to get the approval of at least a quarter of the ruling Chiefs and three Ancients. But for me-"

"Wait," Prince Timothy gracefully raised his hand, eyebrows drawn in confusion, "What does that mean? To be of the Ancients?"

Ah. It would make sense the the prince didn't know that term. He understood why it wouldn't be widely spread outside of the Lands. "To be of the Ancients," Danny explained, "means to have at least two blessings bestowed by different Ancients. To be of the Lands means to be raised within the Lands, and to be filled with and changed by its magics. Even if you have just stayed within the Lands long enough for the magic to have an effect you get to call yourself a Child of the Lands. But only if you have multiple blessings do you get to call yourself of the Ancients. And only their high priests and those they decided to change into one of their kin are allowed to call themselves a Child of the Ancients."

"So every High Chief of the Infinite Lands has to have more than one blessing?" the prince asked in confusion. Where that confusion originated from, Danny didn't know.

"That's right. However, in my case it was a little different. See, since I have… foreign blood in me - and also because my ascend to the passive line was a bloody one - the Council of Observants intervened. To make sure I wouldn't turn out the same way as Pariah Dark, I had to get the approval of all the ruling Chiefs and a blessing from every Ancient. Even though usually, two blessings and one verbal approval would have been enough."

"That sounds as though it would have taken a long time to accomplish…" the prince hummed, head tilted adorably. He was like a bird sometimes. Was it weird that Danny thought all of the other's small thinking habits were heart warming?

"It took me three years to get almost everything," he answered, ignoring the warmth fluttering in his chest, "but I only god Plasmius' approval after he'd freed Pariah and knew that if he didn't change his mind and swear himself to me he would've been executed for treason."

"Three years?" The prince seemed shocked at the thought. And, sure, that was kind of long. But it wasn't like Danny only had to get three stamps of approval, either!

Still, not wanting the Prince to think of him as incompetent, Danny added: "It would've been two, if Undergrowth and Vortex hadn't been so adamant about making my life difficult. But that's just Ancients for you, I suppose: You fight them one time and suddenly they want to make your life difficult. So petty…"

He almost groaned at himself. Sure, shift the blame. How very mature, that surely made Prince Timothy think more highly of him! Especially since the Prince was so much more collected and well-mannered than Danny anyways.

Danny also only remembered how faithful the South was when he saw how pale Prince Timothy had gotten at Danny's casual bad-mouthing of divine beings. Making a mental note to be more careful what he said about them in the foreseeable future, he quickly tried to find something to change the topic with.

His eyes landed on the tea.

"Anyways, how about your mage friend? They're not coming?"

For some reason, that seemed to startle Prince Timothy. "My mage friend…?"

"Yes. The one that gave you this tea," Danny clarified. Seems like he really hadn't known about the magic properties of the tea.

Slowly, the prince's blue eyes moved from Danny to his cup and back. "I…" He glanced back at the tea. "How did you know? What…?"

"It's made with magic ingredients," Danny answered, smiling. "Or, well, ingredients that react to magic, rather. It's made with the Mystrica Rose, right?" Hesitantly, his fiancé nodded. "Right. That flower is originally native to the Lands. A wanderer who moved to Mystrica planted them there. They use a lot of magic there, and some of it seeped into the soil. Not nearly enough to have any noticeable effects, much less the ones we have in the Lands. But it was just enough for the flower to survive. The Mystrica Rose ended up being less potent and harder to come by, but it's still a variant of the Cloud's Shine. Now, the interesting thing about the Cloud's Shine is that there's a couple of variants and all have vastly different reactions to magic. The Scale Petal and the Blood Blossom are the most famous ones, and-"

Realising that he was ranting again, Danny interrupted himself with a sheepish smile. Prince Timothy probably didn't want to know all about that. So he rubbed his neck nervously, clearing his throat to calm himself. "Heh. Well, anyways, the Mystrica Rose is the only variant that actually has the same reaction to magic as the Cloud's Shine, even if a bit dulled."

"I see…" the prince nodded again. "And the effects you spoke of? What would those be?"

Was Danny imagining it or did he look concerned? How cute of him. Smiling, Danny raised a finger above his cup. "The Mystrica Rose is a lot harder to come by, both both variants are incredibly precious ingredients. This tea seems to have used the actual flower, but usually we grind the dried petals to dust and use that instead. And Cloud Dust, just like the flower itself, reacts to the faintest trace of magic. Like this." He allowed a snow flake made with his blessing to drop into his cup.

An ethereal glow started to spread all throughout the cup, lighting up the tea with tiny specks of light. It almost looked like stars dancing inside the drink. It was beautiful, Danny thought idly. When he looked up, he noticed that even the prince's cup had started to glow in the same way.

"It's reacting stronger since it was whole petals this time, and not just the dust," Danny explained softly, "But usually, it's used to coat the rim of a cup during important, official meetings. And if a spell is cast or someone tries to slip in a poison of some sort, the dust will start to glow. It works for most poisons, since there aren't a lot that don't at least have some magical properties - at least not in the Lands."

"So serving this flower…?"

"Would be an incredibly expensive way of saying "You can trust me". Though it's not usually done. It's customary for new Chiefs who haven't taken an oath to the High Chief to use cloud dust when receiving them, but it's more symbolic than anything. Which, I guess, is why we know we can trust it. After all, showing you haven't used one kind of poison just to use an other kind would be incredibly dishonourable." Danny shrugged, a chuckle on his lips. "If they did and even one person found out, they would loose everything. Well, except for Vlad. But that's because nobody of sane mind would ever trust him to begin with."

The prince smiled nervously. "You seem to be awfully sure he wouldn't receive any backlash…"

"I am," Dann sighed with a nod, "He didn't. When he tried to poison me that way, it was exactly what everyone would have expected of him. Of course there was some general enragement, and some calls for his execution. But when I let him off, nobody was surprised enough to be outraged and actually do something - much less revolt. So, in the end, he didn't really loose anything."

"But, why didn't you…" The Prince trailed off, biting his lip. Probably because Danny's less than stellar reaction the last time the topic had come up.

He felt bad for making his soon-to-be-husband feel insecure. It was a sharp kind of sting that seemed to pierce through his entire soul. That might be the reason why he answered, even tough he usually wouldn't have.

"It's complicated," he sighed deeply, "Things with Vlad always are. He is the reason I lost my first family to Nocturn, but often times he's the only hope to save the people I care about now. He is evil, but in his selfishness he does good. He despises me and want to kill me, but he would save my life if the timing didn't suit him. He is poison to the political peace we've reached, but he is somehow also the only one of us the people of Amity trust. He is the exception to almost every rule I know - and, most of all, he is the father of my…" Danny swallowed, took a deep breath. "He's Ellie's father. Even if she officially renounced her parents, he is still her father. Even if he is a vile bastard that doesn't deserve her and somehow still doesn't understand just what a gift she is. And I can't- I won't be the reason she can't see him again."

"I see." And for the first time since this whole conversation had started, the prince actually seemed to mean those words with all his heart.

Softly, Danny smiled. "Let's not talk about him," he almost pleaded, "Why don't you tell me about your friends instead? You said they would come to the wedding?"

As reluctant as the Prince seemed to be to move away from the topic, he did. And it didn't take long until he was retelling stories animatedly, armes waving around entirely un-graceful and full of true emotion. Yes, Danny thought to himself as he found himself nodding along with a smile, this was much better.

Chapter Text

Tim had messed up. And the issue was he didn't even know where.

Instead of screaming, like he wanted to, he answered his betrothed with a chuckle instead. He hoped it didn't sound hysterical. Gently, so that Danny wouldn't notice his nerves through the clatter, Tim put down his cup. His fingers brushed against the embroidered napkin, and he couldn't help but wonder whether it was those. They were pretty, he'd thought, but perhaps the baby blue was too bright? Was Danny scared of staining them?

He didn't think it was them. But then why? What did Tim do wrong? He'd been so careful! What did he forget…?

"I know, right? This past half month has just flown by," he heard himself say and had to admit it wasn't even a lie, "I must say, I'm rather looking forward to becoming your husband. And being able to keep my brother close to me on top of that… I feel very confident in the future now."

The smile on Danny's lips was a soft and gentle thing, like the petals of the flowers Tim had used to decorate the table. It was distracting enough to calm some of his nerves.

Tenderly, Danny picked up the cup once more. And again, Tim held his breath. But just like before, Danny only held the cup in his hand, disregarding any and all etiquette about how to do so, and thoughtfully mustered the tea inside.

It must've been cold by now. Should Tim acknowledge Danny not drinking anything by offering to refill the cup? Or should he ignore it completely? He didn't know, and that bothered him almost more than Danny's obvious displeasure with his choice of tea.

How strange. He was certain his priorities would have been very different just a couple of days ago.

Danny put the cup down once again. Tim's attempts to hide his frown were in vain, if the quick diversion of those glowing eyes was anything to go by. "I feel the same," Danny said instead of commenting on any of that, "I was pretty nervous when we arrived at the meeting, but I don't feel that way at all anymore."

Danny's voice was soft, genuine. Yet Tim could barely believe it. After all, Danny was so confident, so powerful, and he obviously knew how much he had the upper hand in any and all of this. Tim remembered the ice cold fear he'd felt when Bruce had told him of the letter vividly. He remembered the somber and almost defeated atmosphere in the office when they'd prepared, and he remembered the cornered look on all of the other royal's faces. The one he knew he must have shared.

He remembered how he'd agreed to the betrothal in a moment of utter and all consuming fear for the future of his home and his family.

And yet Danny was the one who'd been nervous? "You? Were nervous?"

Oh no.

He'd said that loud, hadn't he? Gasping, Tim covered his loud mouth with a hand. He should probably apologise for that, right? He wasn't nearly as scared of Danny anymore, knew him to be a kind and generous person outside of his royal responsibilities. But it'd been rude still, and Tim didn't want to be the kind of person who was rude to his betrothed just because he knew he could.

But before he could utter even a single word about it, Danny was already leaning back with a chuckle, eyes glowing brighter in delight. He took another eclair - Tim was glad to know he'd done something right, at least, he seemed to really savour the taste - before he answered. "I was," he nodded, a mischievous smile playing with his lips, "Honestly, I'm surprised you couldn't tell. I am…" Danny trailed off, looking to the side where Tim had carefully arranged the flowers in a vase Cass had gifted him from overseas. "I try not to show things like that. After all, I'm responsible for a whole nation now. They need me to be sure of my decisions at least. But try as I might, I have been told that I'm no good at hiding my feelings. At least not towards those who know me well, I suppose."

Which meant Tim still didn't know Danny well. It hurt, but it was true. No matter, he told himself firmly, there would be time to change that. Much time.

Time that began right now.

It was a bad habit his entire family shared, that need to know all the details and to interrogate and prod until they understood. He was glad that Danny had, so far, not only taken no offence to that habit of Tim's but rather even encouraged it. So Tim gently dared to prod this time, too. "You don't sound very happy about it," he observed.

"I don't want people to worry. They've done enough of that during the war against Pariah Dark," Danny explained with a shrug and pained expression. Tim tried not to react to the unpleasant memory.

"No," he corrected with a smile, "I meant about leading a nation. You almost sound like you have regrets?"

Just as he'd hoped, Danny obliged him. "I don't. If I was send back in time, I'd do it all again. Though I'd try to get caught up in less traps, I guess." Danny grinned wryly and Tim couldn't help but notice what kind of traps those were. What could make Danny look that regretful? As far as he knew, the only answer was Danny's clan. Which begged the question, who was stupid and bold enough to involve Phantom's clan in their schemes? There must be less painful ways to die.

"It's just…" Danny bit his lip. "I didn't do it to become the next High Chief. I…" He trailed off again, obviously trying to find the right words. His voice was filled with regret again, and Tim found himself completely fixated on Danny's every word. He never thought he would get to see the mighty High Chief this vulnerable - and he especially never thought he would hear that power had not been his motivator at all.

It felt like a secret Tim was not supposed to be privy to. And those were the kinds of secrets he loved to uncover the most.

"I did what I had to," Danny announced, his voice hard as steel and yet broken like a fragile porcelain doll tossed into a corner thoughtlessly, "to protect my family."

That felt like an answer that suited Danny. It made much more sense than for Danny to have been that desperate for power, really. So that was the truth hidden behind the official reason, huh? It… It was an answer Tim could resonate with, with every fiber of his heart.

"I see… I don't think I would be able to regret that either," he whispered, and he found that he was being completely truthful.

There was little he wouldn't do to know his family safe, after all. Point in question: He had agreed to this betrothal in the first place. And though he couldn't find it in himself to regret it, now that he knew Danny at least a little bit better and wasn't so frightened anymore, it was still the matter of the fact that his family's safety was the only reason they were in this situation at all.

Even if Danny had been the cruel and vindictive monster Tim had feared him to be back then, he couldn't imagine he would regret his decision. Regret not being able to prevent the events leading to it? Regret not finding a different way out of all of this? Regret being the one whose luck was so rotten? Sure. But not doing what was necessary to protect those he cared about.

Still, he thought as he took another sip of his own tea, what a relief to know Danny was not that kind of monster. What luck to know none of that was an actual concern. What a blessing that Danny was such a wonderful person in private, at least.

"But let's not talk about those bad times," Danny suddenly spoke up, voice too light to be genuine, "You mentioned the guests would be arriving tomorrow, right? Do you know who will come?"

"Ah". That was a question Tim could answer, at least. He knew the guest list well, had poured over it and double checked the prepared rooms over and over again. Seating arrangements, tailored to make sure as little discord as possible would break out, and probability charts of the estimated arrival times had been meticulously prepared by Alfred, revalued by Bruce, and finally ran by Tim.

The only ting left to hope was that Danny would agree with all of their preparations. Something Tim didn't know how to gauge, which was, admittedly, the reason for much of Tim's stress the last few days - and the reason why he hadn't said anything sooner. He'd been too nervous to bring it up himself.

Now that Danny had, though, he could at least use the other's reactions to being told as a means to predict how he would react to each of their guests tomorrow.

"I do," he confirmed with a nod, sitting up straight. He took a careful breath in, hoping Danny didn't notice how sweaty his hands were right now. "Hal Jordan will come to represent the holy nation of Oa as one of their highest ranking paladins."

Danny seemed to recognise the holy nation of Oa, at least. Which was good, because sending a high ranking paladin was as good as sending a prince for them but might have come across as rude with no prior knowledge. Tim only hoped that Hal Jordan would not cause any trouble - the man was known for it, although it rarely ever happened on purpose. He was just like that, sadly.

"Crown Prince Kaldur'Ahm will represent the Atlantean Islands and Tamaran will send Princess Starfire, who are both dear friends of my eldest brother," Tim continued in an even voice, only thinking to add the last bit as he was speaking. After all, it would make both kingdoms seem less rude for sending only prospective heirs as envoys rather than the actual ruler or a crowned heir.

Danny seemed content with it, which was a relief. His hum only sounded politely curious, not judgemental at all. Tim had feared it wouldn't be like that, considering that he was talking to the ruler of the Infinite Realms now and not just Danny as he usually was.

"My friends Conner Kent, the first prince of Metropolis, and Bartholomew Allen, the second prince of Centralia, will join us together with their respective fathers," Tim continued. He could have said that the Kings of Metropolis and Centralia would be arriving, but knowing Danny the direct connection to Tim would be of more interest to him. And also, Tim's own Priorities might have played into it a bit. After all, he was glad to know he'd get to see Kon and Bart again on his wedding day, at least. He had feared he wouldn't get to see them before moving across the border.

"And as for Star Kingdom…" Ah. Tim hesitated, carefully mustering Danny. He knew that his betrothed disliked King Oliver Queen for some reason. He didn't know why, apart from their own speculations that he felt betrayed by the man. And something had happened between the king and Lord Dantrey when they'd talked, something that had scared the battle worn king enough to refuse showing up to the wedding in person.

And yet Danny tilted his head, glowing green eyes fixated on Tim, and was obviously waiting for him to continue. So Tim forced a smile. "First prince Roy, Jason's best friend, will be attending together with his daughter, Princess Lian."

Surprise, or maybe even shock painted itself clearly across Danny's face. His eyes darkened and his lips tightened as he locked down. A troubled expression fought to take over his face as he gave a thoughtful hum. Something about that must have been new information to him, Tim concluded, and he wasn't happy about it. Either because he hadn't known before hand - which would mean it was probably either Roy's recent return to the castle or the existence of Princess Lian - or because he disliked the information itself. In the latter case, Tim didn't know what it was that shocked Danny but he knew that it would be dangerous for Roy and Lian to stay here, then.

"Oh…" Danny finally spoke up again, an obviously strained smile on his lips. He cleared his throat and nodded. "I see… I look forward to meeting them, then."

His tone was filled with emotion that Tim couldn't decipher, but he could tell that Danny certainly did not look forward to it. At the very least, he had mixed feelings about it. Would Tim need to orchestrate the two of them having an "accident" on the way here and being unable to arrive in due time?

He needed more information. So he steeled himself to be at the receiving end of whatever it was that had King Queen so spooked, and raised his cup as a feeble attempt of shielding himself. "If it's not too terribly rude to ask, I've noticed you seem quite…" How did Tim say this without sounding accusatory? "focused on the King of Star. Is there a particular reason for that?"

Surprised by the question - and probably also by Tim's audacity - Danny nodded. "I suppose I am," he grinned, "I knew him when we were children. He had such a special personality."

That didn't sound like Danny was very fond of the king back then. Of course, Tim had heard rumours of the uncouth and recklessly unbothered young prince the man had been before his short disappearance during the war. Still, he hadn't expected Danny of all people to insult him for it. Then again, Tim supposed that Danny hated the man enough to make any and all character flaws seem worse than they were.

"It's weird, to think he actually rules a kingdom now," Danny remarked with a dry chuckle. And, yes, he was definitely making fun of the king. But then he shrugged, forcing an air of nonchalance. "But, well, I never thought I would have become the High Chief of the Infinite Realms, either. We're both different people now. It's just… not that easy sometimes, to leave those feelings in the past." Something dark hushed across Danny's face. "And I'm not sure I even want to do that, either."

"I see," Tim answered, resigning himself to accept his betrothed would not allow the relationship between himself and King Queen to be mended anytime soon. Throat suddenly dry, he took a sip of his tea, making sure the movement was elegant and not shaky. Well, he thought to himself, at least he doesn't seem to have the entire family.

Just to make sure, Tim asked: "And do you have any particular feelings about Roy, too?"

Danny leaned back with a troubled expression, thinking about it. After a short while, he sighed quietly. "I'm," he spoke slowly, carefully, "curious about him. He is the Prince of Star Kingdom, after all, and in a way that makes us family." The way Danny said family it was obvious he didn't quite mean it. Still, it was a start, Tim guessed. "I suppose, if he would ever ask for my help or protection, I would agree."

Since this was important, and Tim knew he absolutely had to get this right, he asked again: "So your feelings regarding the king don't transfer over to the prince?" To his utter relief, Danny actually nodded his agreement. "He will be glad to hear that, I think."

Oh no. He'd made it too obvious that he'd been scared of Danny's reaction to the prince, right? Quickly, he added a half-truth: "Roy doesn't like being compared to his adoptive father."

Understanding bloomed on Danny's face, as though that was the most obvious sentiment in the world. And who knew? To Danny it very well might be.

Laughing quietly, Danny hummed. "My brother is the same. The first time someone forwent his title and just called him High Chief Phantom's brother I thought he would kill that man." It was startling to hear the kind man Tim had gotten to know the las couple of days talk this casually about murder, and sounding proud about it even. "He might have, actually, if the warriors hadn't reacted just as strongly and jumped to his defence."

Obviously enjoying Tim's unease, Danny leaned back with another hum. "It was just after he'd been named Head of the Army. And that idiot walked into the training grounds, knowing full well that my brother had managed to get that title. An absolute moron that, for some Ancients forsaken reason, was adamant about being in my faction. He had some sort of proposal, I think? I don't remember clearly." And judging by the scoff and flippant tone of voice, Tim actually believed that Danny hadn't cared enough to remember anything about this man. Poor thing, to have been on the receiving end of both brothers' furry and not even be actually remembered.

"But it was something he needed my brother's help with. And instead of asking for a word with the Head of the Army when I sent him there, he said he needed a word with my brother. As though that was his defining factor. As though he didn't accomplish anything in his own right. And my brother was absolutely livid. I haven't often seen him get that angry, not since I named him my brother." Danny shook his head with a miffed expression, as though the man had only gotten what he'd deserved.

"Why…" Clearing his throat, Tim made sure to ask with the proper decorum. It was obvious that the memory made Danny angry, and Tim didn't want to make it worse. Yet he had to know why Danny seemed to think that was such an affront. It didn't make any sense to Tim, after all. "I'm sorry, but why would he get angry about that? He is your brother, after all. And isn't family the most important thing in the culture of your homeland?"

"Family before honour," Danny agreed with a nod, sounding as though he was quoting something, "and honour before anything else. But being related to someone is not an achievement. It's why we value found family above the one we're born with, too. And even inheritance is not decided by blood."

What a strange thought. The only reason Bruce was yet to name an heir was because it would cause a riot either way. Dick was the oldest, but he wasn't related to Bruce. Damian was the only one related to him by blood, but if Damian was named heir then there would be calls for all of his siblings to be kicked out of the line of succession completely. Jason was not only cursed - at least officially, now that they knew better - but also wasn't blessed by the gods at all. Tim was a noble, the son of a duke, but he wasn't related to Bruce either. Cass was a girl, which might not make her succession impossible but definitely considerably harder.

Blood was so important to the nobles here. Thinking that someone else didn't value it felt new, somewhat weird, and not at all like it was possible. Then again, the Ancients didn't bless blood lines, so perhaps it wasn't so impossible after all. But just how would that look like? Tim had never even considered it, so he couldn't fathom how that would work.

And, wait. There had been mentions of making their children heirs. That coreborn heirs would be better than natureborn ones, even. How strange… Curiosity alight, Tim decided to just outright ask: "But our children would become our heirs, would they not?"

"They would," Danny smiled, confusing Tim even more, "But they would only be in the passive line of succession. See, there's two ways to become an heir. One is to be related by blood, and the other is to challenge someone for the title and best them in a duel." Danny raised a hand up for each possibility, as though to hold them up for Tim to get a better look at them. "Now, neither of them would be able to inherit the title just yet. To do that, they would have to prove themselves and become part of the active line of succession. And even then it's not first come, fist serve. The heirs compete with each other and when the title will be passed on the heir with the strongest claim will inherit it."

"I see…" He didn't, but Tim didn't want to admit as much. Still, another question burned on the tip of his tongue, forcing itself out of his mouth: "And you did this as well?"

"I did," Danny nodded solemnly, "Pariah didn't have any heirs, so when I overthrew him I qualified as a member of the passive line. And with the situation as it was, nobody would have minded if I'd just taken the crown. But I wanted my claim to be unquestionable, so I set out to become an active heir. It took four years, but I did it." Danny seemed to be proud about the fact, so Tim supposed it needed some kind of achievement to qualify as an active heir. "We couldn't leave the position empty, though, so I still ruled. But my title was Presiding Heir Apparent then, not High Chief. That was, on a technicality, still the imprisoned Pariah Dark."

Titles were important in the Infinite Lands, Tim remembered. Then it couldn't have been easy ruling as not the High Chief but just a Presiding Heir Apparent.

Dick had ruled as the Prince Magistrate when Bruce had fallen under a curse and vanished for a while. Even in Gotham, that hadn't been an easy task and his authority had been questioned on the daily. So Tim couldn't even imagine how harsh that time must have been for Danny.

Still, he was surprised to hear that Danny hadn't been crowned right away. That seemed unusual to Tim, especially if he had the choice to just forgo the entire process. "Huh. I thought we only learned of your coronation last year," Tim remarked instead, "But that was actually when you were coronated?"

Danny only nodded, obviously done with the topic. So Tim decided to move on, even if he wanted to know more about that time. "And how does one prove themselves to become an active heir?"

"It differs, from title to title," Danny shrugged, seemingly more inclined to talk about this than his own time as… Presiding Heir Apparent was it? "A Chief's active heir has to accomplish something to help or protect the domain that Chief rules over. Most of them just protect the domain during a solstice siege by leading the warriors at that time." He said it as though that was easy, but Tim wondered how many of Gotham's finest would be able to do the same judging by how Danny and Lord Dantrey had talked about the solstice sieges before. "But Chief Desiree for example established a new trade route, which helped the domain flourish even though they were nearly bankrupt before then. It's why she is one of the few Wanderers that managed to become a Chief. She's very proud of that."

Tim knew that name. Wasn't that the veiled Chieftess that had accompanied Danny to the negotiations. Tim did have his suspicions ever since he'd been told of the different Paths, but it was nice to know he'd been right. "I see. Would that be the reason as to why she covered her face for the entire duration of the negotiations? I had wondered about that, but didn't want to come across as rude…"

Danny smirked, seeming pleased that Tim had figured it out on his own. "Yes. As a Chief, she would not need to adhere to wanderer customs. However, she is very proud of the path she chose - as she should be! - and honours it by doing so. She definitely wouldn't have been insulted if you'd asked her. Actually, I think you should ask the next time, she'll be more than happy to tell you." He hesitated, seeming to think of something. "Just… Make sure not to voice any wants or wishes?"

That… sounded quite arbitrary. "Why not?"

"Well…" Danny winced. "Her late husband wasn't a very faithful man. She used to think it was because she couldn't make him happy enough. And now she deals with the pain by trying to give other people their happiness. That's how she got her blessing, too. But her magic has a tendency to go haywire, and she always forgets. So what usually happens is she hears that you have a wish and gets overzealous, and then you find yourself with your wish grated in the worst way imaginable. She doesn't mean harm! It's just… not an easy to control blessing."

"I see…" He didn't. Again. "How do her people deal with that? That sounds…" Scary. Terrifying, even. Dangerous, mostly. "Tiring."

"She learned not to grant just anyone's wish," Danny answered, and by the tone of his voice Tim figured that had not been an easy endeavour to her. ""By now, she only uses her blessing for those she either cares deeply for, those she respects or those in true, desperate need. Bu she respects me, and you'll be my husband in a few days. So the small group of people she respects does include you."

"Ah," Tim nodded, deciding not to ask how exactly being associated to someone she liked by contract would gain her respect, "And the other titles? You mentioned it was different for them?"

"Well, let's see…" Danny hummed, and Tim got the distinctive impression he didn't usually need to explain any of this. If so, Tim was glad to have asked now. He wouldn't need to embarrass himself later on by admitting he lacked what was considered common knowledge to his future home.

"The Head Wanderer is elected by the other wanderers," Danny started, and Tim noted that this must have been what that mysterious sister had accomplished. Danny had mentioned she was Head Wanderer, right? "Anyone who wandered for more than two years at a time is eligible, and they decide by who had the most impressive journey. It's all very secretive, actually. Every available wanderer will meet at Sojourn's temple when it's time to decide on a heir, and the door will be closed for however long it takes."

That sounded more like the ritual of some ominous cult rather than the succession of a title to Tim. Then again, considering that the wanderers were basically a network of spies it did make sense.

"But," Danny grinned, "my sister actually told me a little about it. Apparently, the candidates sit together and tell each other stories of their wandering. If someone thinks they have a more impressive story, they say so and tell it. Then the others vote on wether or not that actually was more impressive. It goes on until no one has another story to tell. Then, they vote on wether they will trust and follow that Wanderer."

So basically it was about who was the most accomplished, huh? The one who had managed to unravel the most important intel would lead the less capable ones. Yes, that did sound right. And in that case it also made a lot more sense why they wouldn't want anyone else around for it. Information was power, after all, and Tim supposed spies would loath to let go of that power all the more.

"The Head of the Guard and the Head of the Army, on the other hand," Danny continued as though he hadn't just told Tim information not even his landsmen were privy to, "both get decided on with a tournament. It's a pretty public thing. You actually can't enter yourself, but every warrior can suggest another warrior should enter. If you are suggested, honour dictates that you have to fight. Though technically, you could still refuse. It's just that you'd be seen as a coward in that case and nobody wants that."

So, in other words, they didn't have a choice but to fight with all they had, and they didn't even get to decide whether or not they wanted to enter at all. A baptism by fire, so to speak. It suited the stern expectation the warriors of the Infinite Lands seemed to have for each other.

"Anyways," Danny continued, "you have to win the tournament belonging to your title. The tournament for the Head of the Guard is always held during spring, and the tournament for Head of the Army is held during autumn. You can enter both, but you can only claim one title. And once someone managed to become a passive heir to either title - or both of them - they have to get the approval of at least three quarters of the warriors under their future care."

So not only did they have to win against the strongest of the other warriors, they also had to gain the favour of the ones they'd defeated? Three quarter, and with so many warriors… Unbelievable. Tim couldn't hold back the hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of him, and he didn't think anyone - even his mother - could fault him for it. "I'm starting to see why your brother would take offence to not being called by his title. Three quarters of the warriors within the Army? That's quite the impressive feat…"

"Isn't it, though? He managed to gain so much trust and prove himself, even though he started at the bottom again after leaving Pariah. And yet he's the youngest Head of the Army in our history!" It was cute, how excited and proud Danny looked. He imagined that was the same look on his own face when he talked about any of his own siblings. And yet all he could do was smile and nod, too overwhelmed by the sheer implications of how trusted Lord Dantrey must have been to accomplish any of that.

Danny cleared his throat, humming as he considered what to say next. "Oh!" he finally exclaimed, "There's also the Head of the Weavers. That one has to invent something impressive that get acknowledged by either at least one Ancient or three of the Chiefs. It has to be their own design and it cannot be a variation of something that already exists. If at least ten other weavers acknowledge that they're impressed the inventor becomes a passive heir. But only with the acknowledgement do they become an active one." He hesitated for a moment, then smiled at Tim apologetically. "I sadly don't know more about it, though…"

"Huh," Tim said, more to himself than to Danny. That was… surprisingly normal after the other titles. Then again, that couldn't possibly be easy either. Only the smartest of the Weavers was able to become their Head, then. Yet Tim's first thought was a different one: "It certainly sounds like a good way to keep them interested in trying new things. It does appear like an effective way to stimulate innovation."

Tim thought about implementing something like that in Gotham, too. They were known for their cutting edge technology, after all. They couldn't loose that, and this method seemed promising.

Then, Tim realised that he couldn't implement it since in just a few days he would leave Gotham. He still hadn't gotten used to that thought, it would seem.

"I suppose…" Danny hummed, making it painfully obvious that he'd never thought about it that way and rather just accepted it as the way things were. But it had pulled Tim out of his somber thoughts, so he was grateful for it.

"Are there any other titles?" Tim asked, hoping to learn more and to be distracted a bit longer, "Besides your own, of course."

For some reason, that seemed to startle Danny. Perhaps he'd been cought up in his own thoughts?

"The tile of the High Chief is the last of the more important ones. The others are all minor titles and get bestowed, not earned through an active inheritance line," he shook his head, "To become an active heir to the crown of fire, you have to be of the Ancients and need to get the approval of at least a quarter of the ruling Chiefs and three Ancients. But for me-"

"Wait!" Tim interrupted, even though that was rude. But he didn't understand, and his mind was already spinning from all the new information and its implications. "What does that mean? To be of the Ancients?"

"To be of the Ancients means to have at least two blessings bestowed by different Ancients," Danny explained. He thought for a moment, then continued: "To be of the Lands means to be raised within the Lands, and to be filled with and changed by its magics. Even if you have just stayed within the Lands long enough for the magic to have an effect you get to call yourself a Child of the Lands. But only if you have multiple blessings do you get to call yourself of the Ancients. And only their high priests and those they decided to change into one of their kin are allowed to call themselves a Child of the Ancients."

That was… too much to process. Tim would unpack that later.

"So every High Chief of the Infinite Lands has to have more than one blessing?" Tim asked instead, because it was something he could handle right now. And because it didn't make a lot of sense to him, too. Wasn't a blessing something the Ancients only gave out when someone worthy was in mortal danger? And weren't blessings given out only sparsely to begin with?

"That's right," Danny confirmed to Tim's surprise, "However, in my case it was a little different. See, since I have… foreign blood in me - and also because my ascend to the passive line was a bloody one - the Council of Observants intervened." Tim didn't know what that Council of Observants was, but he noted to himself that blood played at least some part in succession, then. If having a foreign mother alone had been enough to make Danny's ascent to the throne more difficult.

"To make sure I wouldn't turn out the same way as Pariah Dark, I had to get the approval of all the ruling Chiefs and a blessing from every Ancient. Even though usually, two blessings and one verbal approval would have been enough."

Danny had said it as thought that was absolutely normal and achievable, not an obvious ploy to keep him away from the throne. Because what? How had even even managed to accomplish that at all? Not to mention in, what, four years? Tim had known that Danny was close to the Ancients, but this was just ridiculous! It shouldn't even have been possible to begin with!

Tim would probably need to keep an eye out on that Council of Observants, though. If they could set the terms for the next High Chief's coronation they must be quite influential, and if they had abused their power like that then they must be in opposition to Tim's future husband - and Tim in turn.

Unsure how to put all those thoughts into words, Tim tilted his head a bit. "That sounds as though it would have taken a long time to accomplish…" Much longer than the four years it took you, at the least.

"It took me three years to get almost everything," Danny corrected Tim's false thoughts, completely disregarding that Tim was already in awe and in shock. "But I only got Plasmius' approval after he'd freed Pariah and knew that if he didn't change his mind and swear himself to me he would've been executed for treason."

Plasmius, Chief of Amity, the one Danny had used to cow King Queen, had only sworn his loyalty to Danny to save his own life? Well it would explain why Danny had been so annoyed by almost anything the other man had to say.

Wait. More importantly: "Three years?" How? Just… how?

"It would've been two, if Undergrowth and Vortex hadn't been so adamant about making my life difficult. But that's just Ancients for you, I suppose: You fight them one time and suddenly they want to make your life difficult. So petty…"

Of course! Of course Danny had fought divine beings before and survived. What was the big deal? Nothing, obviously. He was only casually bad-mouthing them now. Gods, Tim was about to be struck down by divine wrath, wasn't he? Just for being married to that heretical idiot, or for being so ridiculously in love with him. If not now then in the future.

"Anyways, how about your mage friend? They're not coming?"

And that sucked the air right out of Tim's lunges. Because what? How did Danny know about Constantine? And it had to be Constantine whom he was referring to, seeing as he was obviously considering the tea and-

Oh no.

Gods damnit! Tim should've known better than to use anything he'd gotten from Constantine of all people!

"My mage friend…?" Tim asked, trying to appear nonchalant. He knew he was failing miserably at it.

"Yes," Danny answered as casually as talking about the weather, "The one that gave you this tea."

Damnit!

"I…" Should he apologise? But he didn't even know what for? Glancing from the untouched tea to Danny and back, he swallowed. "How did you know? What…?" What kind of magic was hidden in that tea for it to be so noticeable?

Oh no! It wasn't poison, was it? Some sort of thing that only activated for the magically inclined? It sounded like the kind of tea Constantine would carry. Oh, please don't let it be that!

"It's made with magic ingredients," Danny stated the obvious with a reassuring smile. So no poison, then. Good. And sheer luck. "Or, well, ingredients that react to magic, rather. It's made with the Mystrica Rose, right?"

It was, so Tim nodded, but he hadn't been aware that the flower was magic in any sort of way. It certainly hadn't looked magic when he'd seen it in Mystrica that time he'd accompanied Bruce to the strange kingdom.

"Right," Danny nodded back, "That flower is originally native to the Lands. A wanderer who moved to Mystrica planted them there. They use a lot of magic there, and some of it seeped into the soil. Not nearly enough to have any noticeable effects, much less the ones we have in the Lands. But it was just enough for the flower to survive. The Mystrica Rose ended up being less potent and harder to come by, but it's still a variant of the Cloud's Shine. Now, the interesting thing about the Cloud's Shine is that there's a couple of variants and all have vastly different reactions to magic. The Scale Petal and the Blood Blossom are the most famous ones, and-"

Tim wasn't sure why Danny broke off the explanation. He assumed there was some knowledge associated that he couldn't share with outsiders. Maybe even something not all people in the Lands knew. Probably, even, considering how willing he'd been to share that strange and secret ritual of the Wanderers.

Danny smiled, looked away and rubbed his neck. Apparently it was something he had forgotten he must keep a secret from Tim, then. Should he pry into it? But he didn't think Danny would be happy about it, or react too kindly to that…

"Heh. Well, anyways, the Mystrica Rose is the only variant that actually has the same reaction to magic as the Cloud's Shine, even if a bit dulled," Danny finished his explaination.

Fine, then. He wouldn't pry. For now. "I see," he nodded instead, "And the effects you spoke of? What would those be?"

Well, maybe just a bit of prying. Just to make sure how much he'd messed up. Because this had to be it, right? The thing that Tim had messed up, why Danny wouldn't drink the tea. He just hoped that - if those effects were very dangerous - Danny would believe Tim that he hadn't known.

"The Mystrica Rose is a lot harder to come by, both both variants are incredibly precious ingredients. This tea seems to have used the actual flower, but usually we grind the dried petals to dust and use that instead. And Cloud Dust, just like the flower itself, reacts to the faintest trace of magic. Like this." Danny held his hand above his cup and let a tiny snowflake fall into the tea.

"Oh," Tim whispered. That was beautiful.

The tea in Danny's cup, and in Tim's too, had started to glow. It looked like Astri had gathered up the night sky and placed it into those cups. Like the very same God of the Night had descended, and made his new home in Tim's very room.

"It's reacting stronger since it was whole petals this time, and not just the dust," Danny almost whispered, seemingly just as uncomfortable with breaking the sudden entrancing atmosphere as Tim was himself, "But usually, it's used to coat the rim of a cup during important, official meetings. And if a spell is cast or someone tries to slip in a poison of some sort, the dust will start to glow. It works for most poisons, since there aren't a lot that don't at least have some magical properties - at least not in the Lands."

Huh. That didn't sound bad. That sounded pretty good, actually.

"So serving this flower…?" Tim dared to ask now.

"Would be an incredibly expensive way of saying "You can trust me"," Danny nodded, "Though it's not usually done. It's customary for new Chiefs who haven't taken an oath to the High Chief to use cloud dust when receiving them, but it's more symbolic than anything. Which, I guess, is why we know we can trust it. After all, showing you haven't used one kind of poison just to use an other kind would be incredibly dishonourable. If they did and even one person found out, they would loose everything." He shrugged, then chuckled. "Well, except for Vlad. But that's because nobody of sane mind would ever trust him to begin with.

Oh, no. That sounded like that had actually happened before. But surely not, right? Nervously, Tim smiled again. "You seem to be awfully sure he wouldn't receive any backlash…?"

"I am. He didn't." Danny sighed, though it sounded more annoyed than anything else. "When he tried to poison me that way, it was exactly what everyone would have expected of him. Of course there was some general enragement, and some calls for his execution. But when I let him off, nobody was surprised enough to be outraged and actually do something - much less revolt. So, in the end, he didn't really loose anything."

"But why didn't you…" Asking why Danny hadn't murdered his would be murderer was rude, right? And besides, the last time someone had questioned Danny on why he hadn't executed that man Danny had frozen over the entire dining table - and that had been when one of his favourite people had done so! Tim didn't really think he could risk it, curiosity or no.

"It's complicated," he sighed deeply. It sounded like Danny had kept that sigh in for a long, long time. Tim was just glad that Danny's reaction to it this time was a different one than last time. ""Things with Vlad always are. He is the reason I lost my first family to Nocturn, but often times he's the only hope to save the people I care about now. He is evil, but in his selfishness he does good. He despises me and wants to kill me, but he would save my life if the timing didn't suit him. He is poison to the political peace we've reached, but he is somehow also the only one of us the people of Amity trust. He is the exception to almost every rule I know - and, most of all, he is the father of my…"

Danny had to take a deep breath at that moment, and Tim realised that it was the same moment that had pushed Danny over the edge the last time: The moment when this Vlad's relation to his sister came up.

"He's Ellie's father. Even if she officially renounced her parents, he is still her father. Even if he is a vile bastard that doesn't deserve her and somehow still doesn't understand just what a gift she is. And I can't-" Danny closed his eyes, his voice breaking at the next few words: "I won't be the reason she can't see him again."

Tim thought back to the conversation they had just before. It felt like a long time ago, but it hadn't even been an hour since they stood in front of Danny's door and talked about their own parents.

Danny couldn't see his parents anymore. And even if they hadn't treated him well by the sounds of it, he truly believed in their love - and he also believed that they would have changed their mind eventually. But eventually had been stolen from him, from them. So he couldn't bare to be the one to do the same to his sister.

"I see." And Tim did, he really did. It hadn't clicked until this very moment, but he did understand why Danny was unable to do what he had to.

Tim just hoped that this Vlad's next target wouldn't be him. After all, it seemed as though the man could get away with anything and everything, and knew as much as well. If that person was as resourceful and as manipulative as Tim imagined, then surely that man's plans would involve Tim sooner rather than later. And considering that surely Tim would never be able to reach the love Danny obviously held for his sister, he didn't know how much support he would get from his by then husband.

He understood the reason behind it, of course. He also didn't fault Danny for it, he himself would probably make the same choices if it was Talia they were talking about. It was still unsettling to think about, though.

"Let's not talk about him," Danny sincerely requested for the first time since Tim had known him, his smile a thin and pained thing, "Why don't you tell me about your friends instead? You said they would come to the wedding?"

There was so much Tim wanted to know about all of this still. But then he imagined it being Talia instead of this Vlad person again, and he could only sigh. Alright, then. He would tamper his bad habit this time.

"Let's see," he hummed instead of asking any of the many questions burning his tongue, "I met Kon- Prince Conner, I mean. I met him when we were both still children. Some of the kings had ventured to send their younger children to safety during the war, and we both were part of that. But we all agreed that we wouldn't stand for it, so we decided that we were our own unofficial troupe of knights."

It wasn't long until Tim was lost in his memories and the stories of how he'd gotten the best friends he could ever wish for.

It was long, however, until Tim noticed that Danny had not answered one very important thing. Only later, in his own bed at night, did Tim think to wonder: If it was a show of trust, then why hadn't Danny touched his tea at all?

Chapter Text

The first thing they did once the door was open was to envelop Tim in a hug.

Well, the first thing that happened was that Bart threw himself at Tim, accidentally using some of his blessing. Again, like almost any time they met up again. Of course, they fell. Fortunately, though, the floor was fast enough to catch Tim.

It was so… normal. A startling opposite to their current situation. And yet Tim pushed Bart off with a laugh, deciding to right himself through a backflip because all the Waynes were annoyingly acrobatic and incredibly dramatic.

He didn’t look hurt, Kon noticed with a breath of relief. He didn’t look like he was scared for his life, either.

Then again, he also didn’t look like he was about to be sacrificed to a blood thirsty, cruel, evil, black mailing bastard of a warlord, and that was definitely happening right now.

Well, Kon thought darkly to himself, since Clark and the others a bunch of cowards and hadn’t stopped this when it started, he would. Bart and he had come up with a couple of plans to help.

Clark was, of course, still scared. Because why not? He only carried the bloodline blessings of the gods’ literal favourite kingdom. Even if Krypton was gone now, they still had the same blessings. He was strong enough, durable enough, powerful enough to do something.

“Conner,” Clark whispered from just behind him, obviously seeing the look on Kon’s face, “I am begging you, don’t do anything rash. We’ve talked about this.”

Not really, Kon scoffed to himself. Clark had talked about it. Since the man had decided to just abandon Kon’s best friend to all of their worst nightmare he’d been ignoring Clark. In fact, the man had lost father privileges for now. Kon would give them back once he’d do the obviously only right thing and at least try to save Tim.

And, look. He knew that it was probably futile. Alright? But he also knew that they didn’t just do that. They didn’t just abandon one of their own. They didn’t just sacrifice their friends. That was something his other father would do - and the exact reason why he’d left the duke’s household behind for good.


John and his mum were still part of the royal family of Metropolis, so obviously he wouldn’t leave the royal family behind like he’d done to Lex. He was seriously considering to denounce just Clark as his family forever, though.

Was that a thing? Could he do that?

Tim would know. Kon should ask him later.

“Your father is right,” Barry whispered to Kon, falling into step next to him, “If we’re not careful we’ll only make things worse.” When Kon glared at the king, he raised his hands. “I’m not saying that you can’t do anything. I’m just asking you to talk to Tim about anything you do first?”


Well, there went plans A through F. Tim would never agree to them, and they also kind of hinged on Tim not knowing about the plan.

Still, Barry had a point. Because, sure, their plans were all stupid and crazy. But that was just how the three of them operated. However, usually it were Tim’s stupid and crazy plans, so they were also genius.

Plan E it was, then. Tim could know about plan E. He’d even probably approve of it! Not in how little contingencies they’d made, sure, but then again they never really used any of the contingencies. Besides, that was kind of the Waynes’ thing anyways.

"I'm not going to do anything rash," Kon sighed, ignoring the way that both kings visibly deflated in relief, "But I'm also not just going to do nothing."

Barry looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but he did have a brain so he actually thought better of it. Good. Kon wasn't sure how much more stupidity he could take today. He did have to travel with Clark to get here, after all.

Deciding that his conversation with Barry was over, Kon quickly walked the rest of the way - and, really, why was the entrance hall this unnecessarily large anyways? There were houses that were smaller than this room! - to where Tim and Bart were talking in quiet voices.

"-so glad to see you," Tim was saying as he joined the two of them, "I was scared I wouldn't get to say farewell to you before… leaving."

Maybe, Kon thought to himself, breaking that promise to Barry would be worth it, if that means getting to punch Phantom.

He himself knew how little chance he had to succeed, though. He'd heard the stories, after all, he'd fought through the aftermath of that war, he and his friends had even fought in some of the last battles.

So instead, he silently wrapped Tim up in a tight hug. Tim was surprised for a moment, then hugged back just as fiercely. And Bart joined them, too, of course.

Tim always hugged people like he thought this might be the last time he got to do so, and Bart always hugged as though they'd turn to smoke soon. Kon usually hugged both of them back in a way he hoped conveyed that he'd always be there for them, no matter what. But he couldn't do that this time. Because it very well might be the last time, and Tim might very well vanish forever. So this time, his hug was only desperate.

"You didn't sed a letter," Kon murmured. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. After all, had Tim had a plan - no matter how unlikely to succeed - that he was seriously thinking about following through on, he would send them a letter. One that would look completely normal, but all three of them knew held some kind of cypher. Albeit one neither Bart nor him would ever manage to find, no matter how much Tim would insist that it was obvious.

Still, they would have known it was there, whether they would've noticed it or not. So Tim would have send the letter anyways.

And he didn't.

"There's nothing to write," Tim simply answered as he pushed out of the hug. But… He never left a hug fist! The guy was way too touch starved for that. All the hugs in the words wouldn't manage to make up for it. "You already know the whole story. D- Ph- My fiancé offered a marriage to secure peace, and I accepted. And I will follow through on it tomorrow. He has turned out to be a suitable match, so I have no plans of… rethinking my words."

Kon noticed how Tim was struggling with the name of the guy. Did Phantom insist Tim had to address him like that? To remind him of his place or something weird like that?

But even more importantly, Tim said he wouldn't rethink things. So in other words, he didn't want to even try saving himself. Had he given up completely? So soon? That really wasn't like Tim. Not unless things looked really bad. And if he called Phantom a suitable match… Was he that powerful? Enough so to make Tim say his own life and happiness was a fair price to pay?

Kon had known Phantom would be strong, considering he'd won his crown by drowning it in blood. But powerful enough to make Tim give up? Kon had seen his friend spite the gods and survive! And, sure, Tim was a self-sacrificial idiot sometimes. But not to the point where he would throw away the chance to be with his friends and family if he saw a different way out.

He glanced at Bart. Things were looking worse than they thought if it had come to this.

"No, don't-" Tim sighed, shaking his head. "You'll see when he gets here. He's not as bad as I- Uhm. I mean, he's an even better person than I thought."

"He's coming here? To greet the guests?" Bart also glanced at Kon, chartreuse eyes filled with determination, and Kon nodded. This was it, then. The moment they'd waited for. Soon, they would face the man himself. Plan B, where Kon would challenge him to a duel, wasn't an option anymore. Still, they would soon see Phantom, get to meet the monster in the flesh.

Kon suppressed a shiver.

Tim hummed, seemingly not even noticing the unspoken conversation between his friends. Instead, his eyes and focus were direct on the stairs behind them. "He's late, actually," Tim informed them with a nervous frown, "He wanted to be here a while ago. His guard informed me that Lord Dantrey was unhappy with his choice in clothing, though. Apparently it wasn't appropriate for the occasion."

Just as Tim was saying that, Kon heard a door falling shut somewhere in the corridor, followed by a timid voice. "Please, High Chief. I didn't mean-"

"I am very sure," an angry, young voice hissed back, "that I told you to keep your mouth shut."

"I was just trying to def-"

"I didn't ask you to." The voice was like ice, and Kon had a bad feeling he knew who it belonged to. A glance behind him towards Clark confirmed it. "I also don't care what you tried to do. I care about what you did, and that was disrespect my brother. Now, shut your mouth."

There was a short moment of silence. Then another voice, also male, chimed in, almost sounding bored: "You should cut Thorn's tongue."

A sigh. "Brother, please. This is not the time for such jokes."

"I wasn't joking." The third voice, which apparently belonged to the High Chief's brother, didn't even change in inflection. Kon didn't like what that implied for Tim's future. "She obviously doesn't care about it, if she's using it without thinking first."

"Oh, but I wasn't," an almost haughty female voice spoke up, "I thought about it thoroughly, and I meant every word of it."

"You little-"

"Enough!"

Judging by the flinches all around, the last one had been yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. There's been enough anger in that one word that Kon could feel a cold shiver up his spine even here.

"All of you, stop talking now. Don't you think you've made me angry enough?"

There was no answer. Whether it was due to the sheer anger audible in what must be the High Chief's voice or due to the fact that they rounded the corner and entered the entrance hall at that moment was something Kon couldn't say for sure.

There were four of them. A young man, face painted with glowing blue and eyes shining toxic green, clad in black leather and a strange magic fabric that wisped around his ankles. Another man, taller and more muscular, with red eyes but otherwise the perfect mirror image of the first one. A freckled young guy, barely an adult, with smeared red paint on his face. Kon couldn't tell what even was paint and which of the red originated from the scratches along his cheek and his split lip. There was also a bruise forming on his jaw. The last one, a woman with sharp nails and a broken nose, didn't even bother to hide how she rolled her red eyes.

"I'm do apologise for my tardiness, betrothed," the young man at the front sighed. He walked over at a brisk pace, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder in an overly familiar way. There were smears of blood on the leather of his gloves, Kon noticed.

He'd talked about the other three making him angry. Had he beaten up those two injured people? Did that mean he was a violent man?

Kon immediately wanted to do nothing more than to rip that hand off of Tim. Before he had the chance, though, Tim placed his own hand on top to gently squeeze the monster's limb. "No matter. After all, you are here now. Did… you manage to sort out that issue with your clothes, then?"

By now, they obviously all knew there hadn't actually been an issue with his wardrobe. Surprisingly, though, the High Chief blinked at Tim in surprise before slowly, pointedly, turning towards another woman in the room. She was standing at the far wall, and until now Kon hadn't even noticed her. How that was possible, he didn't know.

"My clothes…" the High Chief repeated slowly, eyes narrowing at her. The poor woman shifted nervously under his glare. "Yes. That is what I was doing, I suppose. Because I am apparently vein enough to spend, what, half an hour on my outfit?"

So he hadn't been the one to come up with the excuse. But after a moment of tense silence, he only sighed and shook his head. With a smile on his lips, he turned around to where Barry and Clark stood. "Your majesties. It's been a while. I'm glad to see you had a safe journey. Thank you for coming. And…" Those green eyes moved to Kon and Bart, assessing each of them carefully. "You must be the friends I heard so much about?"

Kon straightened up a bit, defiantly looking right into the green eyes before him. Behind himself, he could feel Clark's concerned gaze burning into his back. "I am Conner Alexander Kon-El Luthor Kent," he introduced himself, voice not even trembling, "the first prince of Metropolis. I'm also Tim's best friend, and more than prepared to go to war for him."

All around him he could hear shocked gasps. He himself was sweating and barely remembered to breathe. But it was true, and it had to be said. Because even if neither Lois nor Clark would follow through on Kon's threat of war, Kon himself would find people that were crazy and angry enough to follow him. And he needed Phantom to know that Tim wasn't without protection just because he would leave beyond the desert, that he never would be.

The seconds drang on for hours as Phantom mustered Kon in what looked like silent shock. But then a snort cut through the tension.

Phantom's brother was barely keeping himself from laughing, and Kon flushed bright red. Because, what? He knew he likely wasn't much of a threat to them, but that was just rude! But then Phantom, that asshole, also stared to laugh. Loudly. He barely held himself upright, burrowing his head in Tim's shoulder to do so. When he finally straightened up again, Phantom's lips were turned up into a sharp grin.

"Oh, I like you," he decided casually, leaning even closer to Tim to whisper something in his ear that made Tim give him a sheepish smile and a small nod. Phantom giggled again. And Kon… didn't really know how to react.

He had expected a lot. Threats. Anger. Being maimed and / or murdered, even. But not whatever this was. Then again, at least Phantom didn't seem to be angry any longer?

Phantom took another deep breath while the rest of them still tried to get their baring back. He straightened all the way, putting fist above his heart and nodded at Kon again. "High Chief Phantom. These are my brother Dantrey and three of my guards. The loud mouthed one-" he pointed at the woman who'd come in with him "-does not wish to share her name. The foolish one-" he pointed to the woman that'd already been here when they'd arrived "-is Vine. And that suicidal idiot of a bigot-" he glared at the third guard who looked like a kicked puppy "-is Rain."

"Urgh!" Dantrey's loud groan turned all their eyes in the room to him. "Will you just stop? He didn't even really do anything."

"He insulted you," Phantom hissed back, clearly enraged by the mere thought, "and your honour."

"No," Dantrey disagreed with the most deadpan voice Kon had ever heard, "Thorn insulted you. Rain said that you were a lot more dependable and that more deserving of the crown. He just defended you, give him a break."

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Was that what he was doing? Because I remember him calling you a ruthless monster that shouldn't be trusted."

Was Kon crazy or was the temperature of the room actually dropping? No, he noticed with a start, the floor was actually covered in hoarfrost now. And Phantom didn't even seem to notice. Nor did any of his people seem to care. Kon thought he might be sick.

Just what kind of monster was Tim doomed to marry? And if all it took for him to be this angry was one of his people voicing his dislike about Dantrey…

"His exact words," Dantrey sighed, "were »High Chief Phantom is an honourable and kind Child of the Lands who deserves to be of the Ancients. We're lucky to have him, and the only decision anyone could ever fault him for was to accept that Ancients forsaken shadowborn as his brother despite of everything that monster did«."

"Exactly my point," Phantom glared towards where Rain was ducking his head, "He's lucky I didn't take his colours, even temporarily."

Kon didn't know what that meant. A quick glance towards Clark told him that his father wasn't faring any better. But judging by the hurt expression on the guard's face and the way he looked like he was about to cry that it was something terrible.

"Danny," Tim's voice, soft and careful but not afraid in the slightest, cut through the tense silence. His hand was on Phantom's shoulder and his blue eyes sought those eery green ones. "I don't know what happened. But Rain is very loyal to you. He is kind and he talks about you in the highest praises. I'm sure, whatever it was he said, it merely slipped out in his fervour to defend you. He did not mean to insult your brother nor your love for him."

To Kon's absolute surprise, this actually seemed to work. Phantom sighed, tension in his shoulders releasing. The temperature rose back to something normal, too, though Kon's hands still remained cold.

"Still," Phantom hissed, clearly still agitated at the least, "to insinuate that it could have ever been a mistake to acknowledge Dan just goes too far. Especially considering that his job is to protect my brother."

"Technically his job is to protect you," Dantrey chimed in from the back, though Kon thought that probably wasn't helping.

Tim seemed to agree, since he simply elected to ignore his future brother-in-law entirely. "That's true," he agreed, "But have you never done something regretful in your quest to protect your clan before?"

It was obvious that Phantom wanted to argue further, but he still only sighed. "Fine," he bit out, then turned back to Rain. "I will forgive you. This time."

The guard seemed to genuinely elated at those news that Kon wondered whether Phantom had cast some kind of mind-controlling spell on the poor guy to make him that loyal. Or perhaps Phantom's anger was just such a scary thing. Regardless of which option it was, though, it only served to weigh down the heavy stone lodged in Kon's stomach even more.

His promise of coming to Tim's defence if need be had been laughable to Phantom, after all. And he had demanded Tim's hand like some sort of price for no reason other than that he could.

Kon was starting to understand why Tim had given up on himself.

"And you are?"

Green eyes settled on Bart, and Kon wanted nothing more than to hide his friend behind himself. Maybe, if he managed to make Phantom angry enough, the guy would decide that breaking Kon would be a lot more fun that toying with the proud Dark Knight's son? Then again, he didn't even have a whole day. He highly doubted that was still an option. He wondered why Dick or Jason hadn't tried that, though.

"Bartholomew Henry Allen," Bart offered his name with a deep bow, "second prince of Centralia. Please, call me Bart."

Something funny happened to Phantom's face. Just a twitch, but definitely there. Behind him, his brother wasn't nearly as subtle. Those red eyes all but singled in on Bart with new interest. Phantom meanwhile hummed low in his throat. "I see," he said, voice now colder and posture stiffer, "That's… an interesting name."

Dantrey snorted, rolling his eyes. But he didn't say anything, even as Phantom mustered Bart again from top to bottom. It made Kon's skin crawl, and Bart shifted nervously as well. Even Tim looked between Bart and Phantom in concern now.

"Is something the matter, my dear?" Tim asked, smile on his lips and worry in his eyes.

But Phantom shook his head. "No," he claimed, convincing nobody, "Why would there be? There's no reason for me to mistrust… Bart, right?"

"Erm, yes?" Bart chuckled nervously, fidgeting so fast it blurred. "That's what everyone calls me."

Dantrey snorted again. "Oh, don't worry about it - my brother just realised you know our sister. He is very protective of his family, you know? Overprotective, in fact."

"Wha-" Almost affronted, Phantom turned around to look at his brother. "I am not! I am very reasonable when it comes to protect you." At the disbelieving look he got, Phantom bristled. It reminded Kon of a kitten, which was not a comparison Kon had expected to make regarding the High Chief. "Name one time I overreacted."

"When you started a revolution for her," Dantrey shrugged as though that was a completely normal thing to say. Kon glanced at Tim. Yeah, no, he'd been right, Dantrey was the one being weird about this.

"I didn't start a revolution for her," Phantom sighed, rolling his eyes fondly, "I took over an already existing revolution because my guardian Ancient gave me a divine quest to slay Pariah Dark."

"Oh, please. You can tell that tale to the trees, but we all know that's not the reason you did it." Dantrey waved Phantom's argument away as though anyone would ever dare to claim getting a divine quest when it wasn't true so casually. "No, you ignored him telling you to lead the resistance for three, almost four years. And then you find out our sister exists and take over leadership of that pathetic excuse of a resistance within a week. Don't pretend you didn't do it for her."

Or maybe some people actually would dare.

"I…" Phantom sighed. "Well. Maybe her safety was a factor in the decision. But she wasn't the sole reason."

"Right," Dantrey nodded sagely, "Just like I wasn't the reason that the first law you created acknowledged the shadowborn as sentient and equal people. Of course."

"Okay, no, that actually was because of you," Phantom admitted with a shrug, "But I don't really see how that was an overreaction?"

"Right. Then how about when you decided to-"

"Alright, I get it. I'm biased." Phantom threw his hands up in the air in obvious annoyance. "That won't stop me from beating your ass later if you don't finally behave, though. We're in the presence of royalty - you should act a bit politer. Don't you think?"

Red eyes mustered all of them, obviously not impressed, and the man shrugged. "It's not an official occasion. They can deal."

Phantom only snorted at the confirmation that the brothers didn't see them as their equals, barely saw them as important enough to remember etiquette. Kon found that he liked Dantrey a lot more than Phantom - at least he didn't seem to be one to put on false airs. Kon hated when people did that. He'd had more than enough of it when he'd lived with Lex.

Bart cleared his throat, successfully regaining the attention. Kon hated it. He liked Phantom's attention much better away from the people he cared about.

"I am not sure when I might have met your sister, your majesty," he admitted, bowing even deeper than before, "But I'd like to sincerely apologise for any offence I might have caused her. If there is anything I can do to make up for it…?"

Phantom sighed. "You don't need to grovel," he noted, frowning with an expression Kon couldn't quite place, "You didn't offend her. Believe me, I would have reacted very differently if she'd had anything other than good things to say about you." He hesitated at Bart's confused expression when he straightened up again, then sighed. "She is very fond of you. And, unfortunately, she has a habit of giving her trust to people who will stomp all over it."

"Which is why," Dantrey happily chimed in as he walked over, slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders, "my brother developed a habit of rearranging people's bones."

What?

Bart looked about as pale as Kon felt. Tim frowned nervously as well, but he didn't seem as concerned as he should. Had Kon missed something?

"Don't make it sound like I'm some sort of honourless brute that just hurts people when he feels like it, please?" Phantom hissed at his brother. Sighing, he turned back to Bart. "A guy played with her heart last year. He wanted to hurt her to make me angry. And, well, since he wanted a reaction so bad I shattered his kneecaps. It was one time, and they've… mostly healed, from what I heard. And also, kneecaps aren't technically a bone, Dan. So there's that."

Yeah, Kon really didn't think that made it better.

Phantom, on the other hand, looked as though this explaination would absolve him of any guilt. So Kon noted to himself that they should seriously make sure never to cross either of the guy's siblings. That was the look of a man who would do just about anything for his family. And considering how ruthless and heartless he'd already been without any of them spiting his family…

Kon shuddered. But before this discussion could get even worse, the doors opened again. Turning around, Kon found Roy standing there.

Oh no.

Didn't Phantom have something against Oliver? Then this surely wouldn't end well.

And why in Eose's name did that idiot bring his daughter?

Chapter Text

Oliver wasn't a very reliable parent. Roy had learned that early on in his royal life.

Oliver was driven, selfish and prejudiced. He was strong, but his misplaced sense of justice and pride often hindered him from doing what he had to. Oliver felt responsible for a lot of things, and he would never talk about why some things just cut him so deeply.

And still, in his own way Oliver was there for Roy. He strived to be better, though he only noticed the need to once things had already gone to hell. He might forget that his first instinct always had been and always would be to react to any situation with stubbornness, but he would never do so out of maliciousness. He was scared of loosing his family - all the royals who'd fought in the war were - but he didn't let that fear control him.

That was the reason, the only reason that Roy had returned when he'd found out about his daughter. Because he couldn't protect Lian, not without Oliver. And in the end, come what may, Oliver would always fight for his family. He'd lost too much of it not to, after all. Just like Roy.

But when he'd returned from the last meeting of the League, Roy had barely recognised his father.

Oliver's eyes had been haunted, his face pale and his clothes in disarray. He'd clutched onto Roy so desperately that the prince hadn't known what to do, and he'd sobbed in the most heart wrenching way Roy had ever heard. It'd taken days to get him to speak of what had happened. When he did, Roy's blood all but froze.

So yeah. Oliver wasn't a very reliable parent. But he was still Roy's parent, and right now he was in no condition to get here.

And yet, they also couldn't stay away from this wedding - the gods only knew what would happen to Star if they did, considering they were somehow already on Phantom's bad side. And, gods, Roy would rather die than leave Lian in anyone else's care with the threat of a barely avoided war still looming above his head. It was difficult to leave her with Oliver on a good day. And with Oliver still like that, with Phantom and his cruel mind games still so close? Not a chance. Roy would protect his daughter himself.

That's why he found himself in front of the doors of Wayne castle, with his baby girl on his hip, and sucking in a deep breath.

He would survive this, for Lian's sake. He might be a lot more capable at messing things up than he was at doing them right, but he would not endanger his daughter. He could never. Lian was the single most precious thing to him.

He opened the door.

Inside the reception hall stood Clark, Barry and Bruce, Roy noticed. On the wall were three guards he'd never seen, and judging by the blood coloured paint all over their faces he'd guess it was because they were Phantom's. Tim, Bart and Kon stood a bit further down - surrounded by two muscular men with white hair and glowing eyes.

The one with the red gaze looked at Roy first. Eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked him up and down, and Roy did his best to relax and seem like he wasn't a threat. Which, well, he was a good fighter. But if not even Jason could do anything here, Roy highly doubted he would be able to do shit.

The green-eyed one with his glowing paint was next to notice him. His lips stretched into a smile, eyes only leaving him when they moved on to Lian.

Lian, whom Phantom seemed to be interested in now.

Oh no.

"You must be the heir to the throne of Star Kingdom," a smooth voice spoke up. Slowly, like the pendulum of a clock, Phantom walked over to them. He didn't even seem bothered by the fact that he was baring his back to three people who probably wanted to see him dead to avoid the wedding happening tomorrow. "And this precious thing must be your daughter."

It took all of Roy's strength not to hide Lian behind himself. He did dare to hold her tighter, though.

"I'm Lian!" his most precious treasure grinned at the man who'd frightened Oliver into that pathetic state, "I'm four."

"Really?" Phantom gasped theatrically, "No wonder you're already so big! Now, Lian, that must have been an awfully boring and long journey. Are you tired?"

Lian shook her head, obviously oblivious to the danger this man posed. "Nuh-uh. I slept on the way here! I'm smart like that."

"That is smart," Phantom nodded seriously, smiling at her again. "Hey, do you want to see a magic trick?"

Before Roy could cry out that no, Lian did not want any kind of magic around her, his daughter had already nodded. Phantom smirked and raised a hand, and as Roy braced himself-

A small butterfly formed out of thin air, wings see-though and crystalline. Like ice. It moved it's wings to fly around Lian's head, making her giggle in the most adorable way, before it landed on her palm, unmoving now. "It's cold!"

"It is cold," Phantom agreed, reaching out to gently close Lian's palm around the butterfly. "And it's also yours now. It won't move again, but it won't melt either. Do you like it?"

Lian nodded, more eagerly this time. "It's real pretty."

Chuckling, Phantom straightened. "I'm glad you think so." Green eyes moved up to meet Roy's again, and it was unnerving how the light made it impossible for Roy to see what emotion was hidden in them. Like that magic had turned the stare empty, almost. "She's precious. Sweetest thing I've ever seen."

Heart still in his throat, Roy forced a smile. "That she is," he agreed, and tried not to let it show how he felt about the fact that Phantom had obviously already figured out Roy's greatest weakness.

A moment of silence settled between them, almost suffocating, before Phantom raised a fist. Roy braced himself but- Phantom put it to his chest? Right above where his heart would be. And then he nodded at Roy? What…? "I am the High Chief of the Infinite Lands," he introduced himself with a confident smirk, "You can call me Phantom."

Ah. Right. This was a formal meeting. Even if both of them knew who the other one was, they should do that. Still, how tedious.

Carefully, making sure it wouldn't be uncomfortable for Lian, Roy hinted at a bow. He knew he should probably just set her down and give a proper bow, but Roy wasn't about to let got of his daughter, and he certainly wasn't about to make her uncomfortable for some ridiculous court trick either. As for Phantom, well, he seemed to be more inclined towards leniency than Roy had figured from Oliver's tales. "I'm Prince Roy William Harper, sole heir to the throne of Star Kingdom," he answered Phantom, "And this is my daughter."

" 'M Lian. I'm a princess," Lian nodded sagely. Then she squinted at Phantom. "You have weird eyes. And your face glows."

Roy's breath caught in his throat. "Lian, darling," he somehow managed to choke out past a strained smile, "You shouldn't say things like that. That's rude. We don't want to offend Phantom, okay?"

Please, let it go, Roy thought desperately, "please, she's just a child, they say stuff like that. It's cute, alright?

But Roy knew what noble society was like. And barely anyone ever let these things go, no matter how young Lian still was. If he was fortunate, perhaps Phantom would get angry at Roy for not raising her right, rather than being mad at Lian? If not, could Roy somehow redirect the anger towards himself?

To Roy's utter relief, though, Phantom just waved his hand dismissively. "I don't mind. Besides." He looked back down to Lian, a smile curving up on his lips, tapping a gloved finger beneath his eye. "I guess they do look kind of weird, huh? It's because of the magic. I have a lot of it in my soul, and that makes them glow like this. That on my face is my paint."

Intrigued, Lian leaned further forward to see better. "You wear glowy point on your face?" When Phantom nodded, she scrunched up her nose. "Why? To be pretty?"

"Well, I think my paint is very pretty," Phantom grinned, surprisingly humouring Lian once again, "But no. You see, I'm from really far away. And we don't use last names where I'm from. We have our paint instead. There's people like Rain over there-" he pointed to the beat-up male guard "-who always wear their paint. I only do when something important is happening. And there's also people like my sister, who don't ever wear it if they don't have to."

Lian blinked up at Phantom. "I don't get it."

Phantom chuckled. "Right… Uhm. What I mean is… It's a bit like a seal, you know? It tells people what my clan is, because I don't have a name that I share with my family."

Suspiciously, Lian looked Phantom up and down. "So your family name is… Stripes and Snowflakes?"

Before Roy could even try to defend her, Phantom had already broken out in laughter. It sounded honestly amused, not cruel like Roy would have expected. He almost looked like just some random guy right now. How strange.

"Not quite. My clan is called Clan Phoenix. Do you know what a Phoenix is?"

Lian thought about it for a moment. "A bird?"

Again, Phantom nodded. "Yes, very good! A phoenix is a very pretty bird. But it's also special. You know, the tears of a phoenix can heal and it never dies. Whenever it's too hurt or too old, it just goes up in flames and then it's starting all over again as a little baby. That's why my people think they're very precious and holy beasts, and hurting them is a very bad crime. Stealing from them, too. You can only take something of theirs if they want to give it to you."

Well… That was a metaphor if Roy had ever seen one.

"But why a fire bird? You have snowflakes!"

"Because Clan Vlaeios was already taken," a new voice deadpanned next to them. Surprised that he hadn't even noticed the man approach, Roy turned to face the other white haired man from earlier. The one with the scars and the blood red eyes and paint. It was the same design, Roy noticed and wondered whether that meant they were from the same clan.

Lian, unperturbed by the new presence cocked her head to the side. "What's a… vla-vi-es?"

"Vlaeios," Phantom corrected her, not unkindly, then sounded it out again slowly "Vla-ey-os. It's a bird similar to a phoenix. Instead of going up in flames and rising from the ashes, a vlaeios freezes solid and breaks. Then, it's reborn from the shards. They're called the blue phoenix, too. Or ice phoenix, if you prefer that. But their actual name is vlaeios."

Lian hummed and looked like she wanted to ask more about it, but Roy decided that they had tested the patience of the man who hated his parent more than enough. So he set her down with a smile, even if it hurt his very soul to do so, and gently smoothed a hand across her hair. "Why don't you go find uncle Jay now, sweetheart? I'm sure he's missed you plenty."

Roy would forever give the world to see the way Lian's eyes lit up at the idea. All gleeful and affectionate. "Okay!" She turned to Phantom. "Bye, mister Phantom. Bye mister bloody man."

For a moment, and fortunately long enough for Lian to run through the room, where Roy could see Barry offer his help to Lian and Lian grabbing his hand to drag him along, the red-eyed man just blinked in utter surprise. "I-" He looked at Phantom, who snickered into his hand, "Bloody?"

The snickering turned to full on laughter. "Well," Phantom managed to get out, "I mean, the colour does fit."

The other guy just sighed, heavily enough for his shoulders to move with it. "Ancients, that girl's ruthless."

"She's an honest one, yes," Phantom agreed with a grin, "Which, I know for a fact she doesn't get that from her grandfather."

The mention of Oliver put that same cold feeling back into Roy's veins. He'd relaxed a bit with the lack of violence or anger towards Lian, and then a bit more when she was safely away from Phantom and his posse for the moment. But, well, if they brought up Oliver now…

Roy was used to the other shoe dropping. It always happened, sooner or later. It's why Jason was such a friend, because even though the guy was another nation's prince he always stuck with Roy even through the worst falling outs those moments brought. Before Jason had felt ready to rejoin high society again and before Roy had returned to Star's court for Lian, the two of them had even taken a lot of mercenary work together. Because they knew they would always be having each other's back.

Lian would be safe with Jason. That was the one other person he'd never hesitate to leave his daughter with.

"Let's not talk about him," the red eyed man decided with a roll of his eyes, sighing deeply. Then he straightened up and looked at Roy with a look he couldn't quite parse. "Or, actually, let's. He looked quite ill last time. How has he been? Since he sent you and the ankle-biter, I guess he's not back to his old self yet?"

Ah. So that's why they brought him up. Roy didn't bother hiding from his face what he thought about them hurting his father, but he did remain polite in his answer. "He's recovering at home currently. I believe he's going to be recovered soon, but he certainly hasn't forgotten your consideration for him. He is very glad for the allowances you made for him, and the kindness you showed him when he departed earlier."

There. That should placate them, right? Oliver wasn't useless yet, he would recover from that utterly frightened state and do his duty, but the message had been received. Because all of them knew that Phantom had let him go, that he'd been warned to remain complacent. Oliver had probably been his usual stubborn self before Phantom had shown just what would happen if he kept being so defiant, after all, and Roy needed them to know that Oliver would not try that again.

Pursing his lips, the red eyed man nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well… It should be fine, as long as he doesn't forget what I told him. And if he needs more potions we should be able to prepare something."

Relieved, Roy nodded. "I will let him know."

"Good." Phantom nodded, honest approval in his voice. Apparently that really was good enough for him.

And, well, that gave Roy important intel. Namely the role he had to play in all of this. A meek prince, proving to them that Star was submitting. Which wasn't great. Roy was no good at that, and baring his neck always made his skin crawl. But if that was what it took to make sure Lian got to grow up at least somewhat safe, then so be it.

Phantom's next words, though, took the air right from his lunges: "And just so you know. If either you or your daughter ever need help or a safe place away from your father, feel free to reach out to us." He looked at Roy for a long moment, then smiled. "I'm not sure whether you would know, but we are related on a technicality, after all. And Lian is such a darling, too. I'd hate if something happened to her. Especially if we could have done something to prevent it."

So they really would hurt Lian, then. No, worse, that was a threat to take Lian and Roy prisoner as well if Oliver didn't behave, wasn't it? Gods, Roy was going to be sick. What should he-

A cold hand gripped his shoulder, green eyes piercing into his. "I mean it. If either of you need anything, just say the word. Regardless of your father and my…" He hesitated, glanced away, frowned, looked back again. "history together, I want you two to be safe. So if something happens you don't need to worry about politics. Just say the word, I'll help you."

And, oh. Oh.

It wasn't a threat after all. Phantom was honestly offering help. A place to stay. Maybe even a place to flee to should Oliver anger him enough to start another war?

Roy had no idea why, or how, but it looked like Phantom had just decided to absolve Roy and Lian of whatever hate he had for the rest of Star.

Relief washed through him, like the first breath of air after almost drowning. He would know, he'd gone through that with Jay once. And this felt just like that. Because even if he would have to become a traitor, Phantom had all but offered Roy a way out. A way to protect Lian at least, should the worst happen.

And, sure, there was no guarantee for how the two of them would be treated there. Especially since coming would mean they'd betrayed their own, and Roy knew for a fact that wasn't well received in the Infinite Lands. But they would be allowed to survive, and Roy could endure anything for that.

Oliver, too, would be sobbing in relief once Roy told him. But he thought he should best avoid saying as much.

Instead, he nodded, taking a shaky breath. He thought he would have been in tears, but strangely his eyes remained dry. His smile, though, was a strange and fragile thing. Just like the hope blooming in his chest. And if this was a joke, if they'd take that hope away from Roy again, he knew he would shatter right here and now. But they didn't, so Roy dared to whisper: "Thank you, your majesty. Truly."

The smile he got in return was tried, almost sad. Apparently, then, Phantom wasn't so unreasonable that he enjoyed dragging Oliver's family into his personal strive with the man. Why he would do the same with the other royal families but not Roy's was something he wouldn't question. Who knew, maybe it'd all break apart if Roy dared to do that.

Clapping his hands, Phantom turned to the man next to him. "Right. Don't you want to introduce yourself? Bloody man?"

The roll of the stranger's eyes was fond. "Dantrey," he said, addressing Roy instead of responding to the High Chief, "I'm the Head of the Guard. Also, I'm this idiot's brother."

Phantom had already delivered a high kick to Dantrey faster than Roy was even able to look. But Dantrey himself looked almost bored, having blocked it with his bare arm. From the sound of it, that kick hadn't been gentle, but the older man didn't so much as bat an eye. "He's annoyed with me right now because I don't want him to hurt people for every mean comment they make about me, but he's usually a pretty decent guy."

Phantom groaned as he lowered his leg again. "Will you stop insulting me or do I need to freeze your mouth shut for you?"

A throat was cleared somewhere to the left. The guard with brown hair smiled apologetically at the three of them. "High Chief, Head Guard? Maybe this isn't the best place to start fighting again."

Again? What…?

But Phantom only looked like a child caught with his hands in a cookie bin for a moment, before turning his back at both of them and walking back towards Tim. "I wasn't going to. Mainly because there's no point. We all know I'd win anyways."

"Wha-" Dantrey looked genuinely insulted by that. "No, you wouldn't!" The High Chief just snorted, turning Dantrey's face red in seconds. "I've been training. I could absolutely win now."

"Yes, yes. Whatever helps you sleep at night," Phantom laughed, arriving at Tim's side and gently lacing their fingers together again. Which, wow. Roy had spend more time outside the palace than inside, but even he knew that was wildly inappropriate. They weren't even married yet, hadn't known each other for even a month but Phantom was casually touching Tim's skin like they were a long time couple.

To his surprise, though, Tim leaned into the touch. He didn't look like it was a conscious decision this time, either. Which meant it wasn't to gain Phantom's favour or to manipulate his fiancé, then.

Huh. Interesting.

Dantrey walked over to the group, so Roy decided to follow. "I could. It was pretty close last time. I absolutely could beat you."

"In a fair fight?" Phantom smirked, "Maybe sometimes. In a regulated fight? Never. And in a fight where I can fight as dirty as I'm used to? You'd never stand a chance."

"I'm way better at fighting dirty than you!" Dantrey defended immediately. "I was literally born to fight dirty. It's in my blood."

Phantom snorted again. "That's true. But when we fight dirty I can use all of my blessings, though…"

At that, Dantrey actually paled. Then, he sighed deeply. Like a petulant child, he crossed his arms. "I still think I could beat you."

Phantom only rolled his eyes, catching Roy's gaze in the process. "Please just ignore my brother, your highness," he smirked, "He is a ridiculous being incapable of showing any sort of decorum outside of battle, enemy territory or his official duties. And even then it's not always guaranteed."

"Name one time-"

"At the adoption ceremony, when you'd just officially been acknowledged as my brother," Phantom cut in with the most deadpan voice Roy had ever heard, "the first thing you said was »Does this mean I have rights now?«."

"Hey! It was a valid question." Dantrey turned a bit to address all three princes. "The answer was no. I didn't get any rights because of that."

"Which is why," Phantom stated pointedly, glaring at Dantrey, "making a law that acknowledges your kind as sentient human beings and gives you rights wasn't an overreaction."

Confused, Roy blinked. He felt like he was missing vital information. Because… "What?"

Instead of answering, Phantom and Dantrey just looked at each other and then started laughing.

Chapter Text

Sighing deeply, Danny buried his face in his hands for a moment. He thought he was allowed to wallow in the resignation and shame for a moment, considering all that had happened.

They'd been on the way to the entrance hall when Vine had all but ran them over in her haste to tell them about Rain and Thron's 'spat'. And there'd been a lot of emotion involved in the whole ordeal of that particular fight. All four of them had still been full of emotion and adrenaline, and the rush of a fight. Considering that the Children of the Lands usually fought with their hearts wide open and all of their feelings pouring out into the battle - at least when it was an actual fight and not just merely a friendly duel - that meant there was still so much lingering raw emotion in all of them.

Now that all of those emotions had ebbed away, Danny was embarrassed of the way they'd acted. Uncoordinated, in complete discord with each other, almost feral.

Just as always after a fight, really, but this time in front of the people whose impression of him was possibly the most important one of all. And that included all of the Ancients, considering he had a personal relationship with each of them. And had needed to gain their blessings due to the Observants' predictable meddling back then.

"It's a good thing," Danny decided ruefully, "that they think of us as barbarians anyways. We've made a terrible impression, I'm sure."

Taking another deep breath, Danny looked up. They were all gathered in his room this time. Vine and Hyacinth stood close to the door, Thorn was sitting on the windowsill, Silk and Feather had just plopped down unceremoniously on the floor, Rain stood awkwardly to the side, and Danny and Dan sat next to each other on the bed.

"Right," Danny noted, much more decisive than he felt. "Right. My future in-laws is one thing. But these people are the representatives of the kingdoms we were at war with not too long ago. We need to show a united front again."

"Well, I wasn't the one who acted like some desert-spawn in front of them," Thorn scoffed, red lips pulling into a distasteful frown. Danny ignored both her and the venomous glare Dan send her.

"We can't be fighting each other," he continued earnestly, meeting all of their eyes. It took a while for Thorne to look at him, but he decided to let it go. He didn't need her approval, after all. "And we can't carelessly tell them about our more… unbridled sides, and the trouble they got us into."

"You mean," Feather grinned up at him, his short locks bouncing as he rolled to his feet, "we're not supposed to let them know our High Chief is positively feral?"

Wincing Danny nodded, even as Silk got Feather back onto the floor by sweeping his feet out from under him. "Yes. That."

"Urgh!" Dan flopped backward onto the bed, almost succeeding to push Danny off in the process. "I hate politics. Did I ever mention that?"

"Yes," Hyacinth hummed, "Extensively. Just as much as your brother. Honestly, the only one among your clan who enjoys all that pretence and manipulating is the one too young to get under the crown. Who also has no intention to take that place. So."

As the large man shrugged casually, Danny found himself once again incredibly grateful for how relaxed Ellie's faction usually was. At least some of the guards Frighty had chosen wouldn't be starting fist fights in other kingdoms about who was and wasn't deserving of the title.

"We're getting off track," Silk noted, fussing over his boyfriend's hair again. The tumble had undone the brow he'd tied into it earlier. Silk always did complain about Feather's tendency to chop his hair every other month. Danny fondly watched the two of them as Silk gave up and used one of his own ribbons as a head band on Feather. Feather, in turn, beamed and started fussing with the ends of the ribbon.

Silk and Feather were good people. They'd been at his side since their days in the revolution, and they'd remained neutral through the entire aftermath. As always, they'd asked to stay mostly in the shadows during this assignment, even went so far as to ask not to have to interact with the royals at all this time. But Danny was still glad to have them here. Even if they were just taking night shifts until the journey back.

"United fronts," Danny finally reiterated, "We have to behave. All of us. Alright? If you want to fight or squabble or something, you're free to do so. But only in your own quarters. Proper behaviour, no speaking out of turn, polite words, and make sure not to add any stories that could scare them off. Understood?"

"No talking, no being ourselves, got it," Hyacinth nodded sagely. When Danny gave him an unimpressed look, he only laughed. "Fine, fine. We'll pretend to be civilised. No worries, High Chief. We're all adults here, all perfectly able to control ourselves. I promise."

Unconvinced, Danny glanced over to Thorn. But she only rolled her eyes. "As much as I might hate the very idea of all of… this," she waved a hand around the room lazily, "I'm also not about to sabotage it. Whether we should rely on the charity of those weak-willed southern idiots, the deal is already made. We might as well extort them for all they're worth, now that it's come to this." Under the scrutiny of seven pairs of eyes, she sighed. "I will behave! Seriously, nobody wants another war. One was too much already."

Well. At least one thing they could all agree on.

Danny was about to let it go, but Dan growled at her. "Regardless, I think you're forgetting that my brother hails from those weak-willed southern idiots. So you might want to take that back."

Danny had to leave it to Thorn, she had a spine of steel if she could meet Dan's angry gaze and calmly reply: "I said what I said, sir."

"Brother," Danny murmured, placing a hand on Dan's shoulder, just as much to steady him as it was to hold him back.

"She's vile," Dan spat, as though he would ever have to justify his protectiveness to Danny of all people.

Smiling at his brother, Danny sighed. "She's opinionated. And has no qualms expressing her believes, I suppose," he corrected gently, "As long as she knows when to hold them back, too, I don't mind."

"I do," Dan grumbled but relaxed, slumping to lean against Danny.

Danny just hummed. He understood. Really, he did. If anyone had said the same about Dan, he would have lunged at them by now as well. Still, the idea that Dan would ever pick a fight about something as silly as someone badmouthing Danny, that Dan would get hurt just for that, that people would take it as confirmation of him being a monster made of magic and anger and little else…

He couldn't help the way he glanced at Rain.

The young redhead straightened under Danny's gaze, still looking so lost and sad, like he was scared of saying something wrong. Danny had gone too far in his anger, he supposed. He should probably talk to him, but…

Dan poked his finger into Danny's shoulder until he caught his eye. When he did, he gave Danny a heavy look, one that made Danny sigh once again. His answer was a soft, almost imperceptible nod. Dan seemed satisfied with that. And could it really be the wrong choice if it made Dan happy? Especially since there was no violence involved this time?

"You all have the rest of the day off. Use a training hall to blow some steam off, go take a walk or do whatever you'd like. We'll resume with the scheduled shifts at dinner time. Unified." When Feather raised an supremely unimpressed eyebrow, Danny hesitated only slightly before adding: "And peaceful."

He waited until he'd gotten a couple of meows in agreement, then met Rain's eyes. "Rain. A word?" he asked, "Alone?"

The way Rain tensed at that was almost enough to make Danny feel bad about his actions. Almost.

His anger at the hurt in Dan's eyes earlier that day far outweighed his guilty conscience. Very little could happen to tilt the scales, too. Especially since Dan had obviously tried to hide that pain. Especially since Danny still remembered how happy Dan had been back when he and Rain had first met, how well they got along.

And Danny knew it wasn't just prejudice that had led to Rain's less than fortunate opinions on the Shadowborn. He had his reasons. Personal experiences that had, tragically, distorted the way he saw Dan.

And yet Danny doubted he would ever forgive anyone who could so casually disregard his family. Who could hurt them that deeply. Who would ever abandon the most wonderful and deserving people Danny had ever had the privilege to meet.

The wonderful and kind person, who gave Danny a meaningful look before drawing the door shut behind himself. Danny and Rain were alone now.

How did he even start this conversation? There was so much to say, and so many feelings about each and every one of them. He knew already that they'd end up arguing. Or at least Danny would.

Rain offered the exact kind of devotion that Danny felt so uncomfortable receiving, too afraid of what would happen should he loose himself to truly appreciate it. The kind where he trusted Danny blindly, where he wouldn't ever think of talking back. So while he was too head-strong to be convinced just because Danny said something, he probably wouldn't argue back.

And have you tried to tell him that, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his elder sister's whispered somewhere in the back of his head. As he always did when she was actually there, too, he elected to ignore it.

"This feels like a conversation best had sitting down," Danny sighed, gesturing towards the seating area. The same one where he'd first talked to Damian that one night, he noted bemusedly. That felt like ages ago now, but it hadn't even been that long.

Rain remained mute as he sat in the same chair Damian had, head ducked and eyes fixed on the floor. He looked like he thought Danny was about to yell at him, and Danny realised with a start that the other guy had no idea any of Danny's reaction had been inflated by anger.

Sighing once again, he took the other seat. "Rain, I…"

Just tell them how you feel, Danny. Be honest. How else are they going to know?

He didn't ignore Jazz's advice this time, though it had originally been given for a very different situation. Still, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started again with his eyes still closed: "I do not like what you did. I never asked you to defend me like that, and I especially never wanted you to do so at the expense of my brother. I think it's unfair how you treat him, and I'm angry that you pushed him away just for who he is."

"I'm aware, High Chief," Rain nodded, voice incredibly small and quiet. But no apology. Not that Danny had expected it, but… Well.

"Good." Danny nodded decisively, opening his eyes. "The reason I asked to talk to you is to apologise."

That seemed to surprise Rain. He raised his head, startled eyes meeting Danny's gaze. Whatever he saw, it made his shoulders uncurl. His voice still sounded hesitant when he asked: "What do you mean?"

"I know what happened with Pariah Dark," Danny elaborated, some part of him feeling vindictive when Rain barely contained a flinch at the mention, "So no matter how angry I was - and I was absolutely downright furious - I shouldn't have threatened to take your colour away. That wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry."

Placing his hand over his heart, Danny lowered his head into a soft bow. Almost frantic, Rain waved the gesture away. "No. No! You don't have to bow. Besides, you said temporary, so…"

Meeting Rain's eyes, Danny shook his head but straightened. "No. Temporary or not doesn't matter, considering what you've experienced. I shouldn't have threatened it at all."

There was a lot of pain in Rain's eyes, and the younger warrior averted his gaze. Danny let the silence linger. He was sure Rain had a lot of emotion to sort through, now that this had come up again.

Choosing a Path was such an important moment in ones life. It usually happened somewhere between fifteen and twenty. The tendency had always been towards the latter, but during the war many children had to grow up too fast - the the point, even, that they had their ceremony before reaching fifteen. Danny and his clan had been among those children, as had Rain and his older twin.

But even then, that was the moment when you were officially considered an adult. It was the moment when you chose what you wanted to do with your life, when you chose your Patron Ancient and your purpose. The moment that you devoted yourself to the ideals and the responsibilities of your Path, that your vowed to act in your interpretation of its creed.

The Children of the Infinite Lands loved their Path. It was a piece of their identity. Something intertwined with who they were. They were proud of their Path and they identified with it. Wearing your colours, showing the world that you had a purpose and that you had place, that you belonged was such an honour and such an incredible comfort and so, so important. Danny doubted anyone who hadn't experienced this bit of culture could ever understand. Ancients knew he hadn't.

Choosing ones Path was a divine right that every Child of the Lands owned.

Intervening in that when someone strayed from their Path, when they'd gotten so lost that their actions just weren't compatible with their creed any longer was a privilege and a responsibility that weighed painfully heavy on the shoulders of the High Chief. And as with any of his powers, Pariah had been careless with this one, too.

Rain and River had only had themselves, Dan had once told Danny. They'd lost their parents at ten years old, and while River had chosen his Path in order to provide for their clan of two, Rain had had the chance to wait just a bit longer. Two years, and then Rain had needed to chose as well. Because a twelve year old hunter just wasn't able to take care of both of them.

Pariah had taken that bit of identity from Rain. He'd completely disregarded all the hardships he'd come across before and after he'd chosen that Path. As though all that suffering and all that joy and the feeling of belonging that a child had carved out for himself after he'd lost everything had been nothing.

River had joined Danny's cause by the time it'd happened. Seeing his brother forced to choose a Path that young was what had guided that decision, Dan had said. But Rain hadn't known that, nobody had. Pariah hadn't known either. And yet still, Pariah had taken Rain's colours permanently not even three months after he'd chosen his Path. Because Rain had spoken out of turn once. As a twelve-year-old.

Danny hadn't been able to give Rain his colours back. Once they had been permanently taken nobody could do that. But when he'd taken over, Danny had been able to grant Rain another ceremony, to choose a new Path.

"It was justified," Danny finally whispered, looking down at his own hands. And it had been. Rain had attacked one of his companions, one of his own. And not only that, he'd disregarded, insulted and verbally attacked the person he had been supposed to protect, too. As a warrior and a guard that had been a breach of the codex, one that Danny was well in his right to punish this way.

Considering Rain's past, though…

Danny sighed, hands clutching together tightly. "It was also unnecessarily cruel."

There was a long silence. Danny appreciated that Rain actually took time to think about it, rather than just placating him. Then, even quieter than before, as though speaking too loud would rekindle the flames of anger Danny still felt burning somewhere in himself, Rain carefully said: "I… know it was justified. I know that I was fortunate to receive the chance at wearing any colours again in the first place. And I'm grateful to you for that. I… I will admit that the idea of-" Rain took a deep, shuddering breath in and Danny clutched his hands tighter together, the leather of his gloves creaking. "-of loosing them again terrifies me. But-"

Another beat of silence. Danny took a deep breath. Hearing Rain - one of his people, one of the people he was responsible for, one of the people Danny was supposed to protect - so frightened hurt. Even if he didn't particularly like Rain right now.

"Sir," Rain said softly, desperately, "That is not why I decided to follow you. I decided to put my faith in you because of who you are. You are kind, yes, but you are also fair. Your punishments are always proportionate, and you don't like having to resort to it. You reward us for accomplishments like it's granted, you help us in any way that you can. You don't give up on anyone, not even your enemies. You're loyal, and strong, and you have so much faith. In us, in the world. I devoted myself to you because I respect you, sir. From the bottom of my heart."

Danny's breath shuddered when he looked up, seeing the heartachingly earnest look in Rain's eyes. It was a lot to take in. Danny also didn't understand how any of this had come up. "Why…?"

"Because I trust you." Rain stood up, took two steps closer and knelt in front of Danny, both knees on the floor and bowing his head. Danny couldn't help the gast that broke loose from his throat. Why would Rain go that far? "And I trust that if you were to take my colours it would be utterly deserved. I know what I did wrong, High Chief, and I knew what I was doing when I did it."

"Then why?" Danny demanded, and now it was his turn to be desperate. He just wanted people to be kind to his family. Why weren't they? Why did they hurt his brother, even knowing full well that it was wrong?

"Because I don't trust you brother. I can't and I won't," Rain replied simply, still kneeling in front of Danny, "I know that you love him, and I know you are too kind and forgiving for your own good. But, High Chief, sir, that is a shadowborn, and I-"

"You used to like him." It wasn't a question. It wasn't an accusation, either. Just a simple statement. "Before you knew. You and my brother got along great. You trusted him. You even gave him your name. He's still the same man, Rain. Nothing changed, and you used to like him."

Maybe it was a bit of an accusation.

"Yes." Rain nodded, and his voice was a cold thing. Danny couldn't remember ever hearing Rain speak this coolly before. "But I also used to like River's shadowborn. Right up until he tried to kill both of us and paralysed my brother."

Again. That same argument again.

Danny could understand why people kept bringing up stories like this. He got it, really. But those people weren't Dan. What other shadowborn had done didn't define him as a person and Ancients, but Danny was so tiered.

"What happened to your brother was a tragedy," Danny acknowledged, "It is always a tragedy when a shadowborn ends up murdering other people before they can learn how to be anything other than angry. But my brother isn't them."

"Your brother might be loyal to you now," Rain agreed, "But that doesn't change what he is. Your love doesn't change what he is."

"It doesn't have to. He's a kind, wonderful, devoted warrior and he's perfect just the way he is," Danny all but spat. Taking another deep breath, he tried to focus. He didn't tell Rain to rise. Perhaps he wouldn't have demanded this of his fellow warrior, but now that Rain had decided to lower himself… Well. If he decided to offer up his pride and grovel then Danny would let him feel the whole shame of what he'd done.

Besides, it wasn't Danny to whom Rain should bow. If anyone, that person was Dan. As long as he refused to acknowledge that Danny certainly wouldn't make things easy for him.

"My brother," Danny said carefully, coldly, "is not defined by what his people have done. Much the same as how we, as the Children of the Infinite Lands, are not defined by what Pariah did. All the leaders of the whole Juistria League were able to acknowledge that, despite how terrible the crimes that man and his followers committed were. So why can't you?"

Something in Rain wavered, uncertain. But he still wore a defiant look on his face. "He was one of Pariah's people, too, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget?" Danny chuckled mirthlessly. "There will never be a day when I don't regret not finding Dantrey sooner. Pariah took a child who know nothing about kindness or anything other than pain and anger, and he used him as a weapon. He didn't even allow my brother to consider himself a person. Pariah got him, and used him to do terrible things when Dan didn't know better because I failed him."

"He still did those things of his own will-"

"And he regrets them deeply." Danny fought back tears of frustration, failed. Why couldn't people see that? It was so obvious if you just bothered to look, even just for a second. "His name was the only thing he possessed when Pariah still had him. The only thing he was allowed to have for himself! Do you really think he would give that up for nothing? He hates what he did, and he tries so desperately to make up for it. He is a good person and I won't let you tell him otherwise."

Rain sighed, sounding truly rueful as he did. "High Chief," he implored, "it's in a shadowborn's nature to be cruel. Even if he truly does try to change that, it is only a matter of time before his instincts get the better of it. I just don't want him to hurt you when that happens. You're too important for us to loose you, especially like that!"

"He has your name," Danny reminded Rain, "You never said it, but he knows you regret giving it to him. So even though he could use it as much as he wants to, he decided not to. You hurt him deeply, you abandoned him, and yet he still speaks of you with nothing but respect and regret for loosing your trust. Do you really think he would do that if he was the cruel monster you think he is? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that he's heartless despite that?"

Rain didn't look up, just bit his lip. That was answer enough. Still, Rain whispered in a broken, scared kind of tone: "He's dangerous, though."

"Yes," Danny acknowledged tiredly, "But so are all of us. Any one of us could loose ourselves to the magic or be overtaken by it. Will you condemn Hyacinth next? Or Thron? Are they monsters in your eyes, too?"

When Rain kept silent, Danny took another deep, grounding breath. Let it out. Released his hands and leaned back. "I am not demanding that you trust him right away," Danny said. He would like that, truthfully. But he knew that was too tall an oder. He had to be somewhat realistic in all of this. "But he doesn't deserve the way you treat him. Just… Treat him as a person. Allow him to gain your trust. That is all I'm asking of you." For now.

Rain hesitated, looking conflicted.

"If you want a High Chief that's loyal to our people," Danny admitted, not liking to say this to anyone outside his clan yet knowing it needed to be said, "you should join Dan's faction instead of mine. I am not loyal to the Infinite Lands. I never was. I'm loyal only to my clan and my family. That was my reason for getting under the crown from the beginning."

Startled eyes met his and Danny couldn't help the laugh bubbling out of him. Sometimes he really didn't understand how people didn't know that. "Haven't you noticed I deliberately forgot your name every time you were rude to my brother?" Rain nodded hesitantly. "See? And I know you've seen me with my sister when she was hurt before. They are my priority, Rain. I think I'm making it very obvious, actually. If I don't, please, go ahead and tell me where I can improve. So Dan cares about the Lands much more than I do, actually, and while I do what I can I would absolutely abandon all of you for them in a heartbeat. My brother would never, though. And that is even though most of you hate him arbitrarily."

Rain thought about it for a moment, expression twisting. For a second, Danny thought he would argue with him about Danny's use of 'arbitrarily'. Fortunately for him, he did not. "I will try to… be less condemning in my interactions with him," Rain finally, finally relented, "Though I still think you are too kind for your own good."

"You still trust me to be a good leader?" Danny asked, suddenly feeling a bit bemused, "Even though my country isn't my priority?"

"Family first," Rain simply recited in leu of an answer, "honour second, and everything else after that."

"I guess I'm not that half-blooded after all, huh?" Danny chuckled quietly. "Right. That was everything, I think. Good talk. Let's take some time to calm down, both of us?" Rain nodded, and Danny offered him half a smile. "You can rise now, by the way. But you're not forgiven, not until you've made it up to Dan."

Another beat of silence as Rain rose to stand in front of Danny again. "For what it's worth," Rain softly said, "I forgive you. Even if I don't think you had to ask for that at all."

Closing his eyes, Danny didn't bother being nice enough to see Rain out or offer his a proper goodbye. He didn't even acknowledge the statement. After all, he was just so done. This conversation had taken a lot out of him, and he figured it was the same for Rain. So when Danny didn't react to his farewell either, the warrior left quietly.

Danny waited until the door fell shut. Then, he buried his head in his hands again, groaning loudly. He wanted to scream, actually, but he figured that wouldn't help anyone's impression of him. He also wanted to punch something. Desperately. Maybe he would find Dan for a duel later, even if it certainly wasn't him Danny wanted to punch some sense into.

Ancients! It was getting better for shadowborns lately, sure. But, damnit, getting people to treat Dan as a human being was like pulling teeth from a starving wyvern…

Chapter Text

"Okay," Kon said, eyes meeting Tim's steadily despite his nervousness, "Here's the plan."

"What plan do you-"

"On the journey to the Infinite Lands, we're going to stage an accident. And then Bart takes you away. We fake your death, and you come with us."

What? "Now, hold on a moment. Kon, I don't-"

"You'll have to live under a different name, obviously, but both Bart and I would be happy to shelter you until the heat is off. You can decide whether you want to live in Metropolis or Centralia after we managed to do this."

"Hold-"

"Now, we'll only get one chance to do this, and it'll have to be convincing, but with you here I'm sure-"

"Kon!"

Finally, finally his best friend stoped talking for a moment. Taking a deep breath to calm down, Tim settled back in his chair. "There will be no faking my death."

Shock, hurt, confusion, and fear etched themselves onto Kon's face. His voice was much softer when he spoke up again: "But…"

"Kon." Tim's own voice was much gentler now, too. He appreciated the attempted rescue, he really did. But it was entirely unnecessary. And, sure, Tim understood why Kon didn't know that. It had barely been any time at all since Tim himself wouldn't have believed it. But… "He's kind. Chaotic and unpredictable, yes, but also kind. He… Danny isn't doing this to be mean or because he wants to hurt me."

There was a lot of scepticism in Kon's gaze, but he still settled back. "…What do you mean?"

Taking a shuddering breath, Tim tried to find a good way to put it into words. "You know about the Ancients? Their deities?" Kon nodded slowly. "Well, they're real. As in, they actually live in the Lands, and Danny has met them. The only reason anyone was able to live in that place at all is because of their protection. And I don't know what happened, but they lost the protection of the Ancient that made it possible to have agriculture. They aren't able to survive on their own anymore."

"That doesn't give them the right to threaten us, though. Or to force you into a marriage."

Seeing that Kon was about to get back to scheming Tim's pretended death, the older prince raised a hand. "Maybe not. But they also weren't in a position to just ask us for help. I mean, after the war… Besides, they haven't ever had diplomatic relationships with any of us before. Too many religious differences. And your family is Kryptonian! The Infinite Lands and Krypton were ancient enemies right up until Krypton sank. He's said some concerning stuff about how children from our kingdoms get treated if they receive the blessing of an Ancient, too. If that is all the experience he has concerning us there's no way he thought we'd even listen to him if he didn't at least go that far."

Kon was silent for a long moment. Then, carefully, he leaned back. "It's not like you to justify somebody's actions like this. None of this makes sense… If you're not that scared of him, then why aren't you fighting back more? It's weird."

Bart hummed, leaning forward with a bright grin. "Do you like him?"

Kon sputtered indignantly, like he was insulted on Tim's behalf. "Tim would never fall in love with someone like the ruthless warlord ruling the Infinite Lands! Right, Tim?" When he turned to look at im and saw his bright red face, though, his mouth all but hit the floor. "By the gods," he whispered, sounding needlessly appalled. "You did. You fell in love with the ruthless warlord ruling the Infinite Lands!"

"I didn't!" Tim automatically defended. When that only got him a look, though, Tim groaned and acquiesced: "I feel in love with the gentle and attentive man Danny is in private."

"That doesn't make it any better! Tim, he threatened you into this-"

"Danny?" Bart asked, obviously focusing on completely different things than Kon. For a moment, Kon looked like he was about to unleash the Luthor-kind of anger on Bart that he refused to acknowledge he had. But then he thought about it for a moment, startled, and looked at Tim with a questioning look as well.

Tim, who hadn't meant to call his almost-husband by his given name to his friends at all, blushed even deeper. Was this a breach of etiquette? Danny had said to use their relation to each other rather than names around people who didn't know his given name. But calling him his fiancé out loud felt weird. Especially considering how Kon and Bart had both reacted to the news.

Sighing, Tim decided that it was too late now anyways. If he had to, he'd apologise to Danny later. He had a feeling Danny wouldn't mind too much, even if Tim shouldn't have said anything.

"Names are important in the Lands," Tim explained, "Given names are something only children use in public, and only close confidants are allowed to use the given name. They choose a name to use in public instead. Danny chose Phantom, so that's what people usually call him. Giving someone your name is… sacred in a way? Nobody is allowed to take that away from you. Using a name you have no permission to is the greatest kind of insult you could possibly imagine, if I got it right. I don't know why Lord Dantrey doesn't use one, but all the other names you've heard earlier are aliases as well."

"Hm…" Bart tilted his head thoughtfully. "And he gave his name to you?"

Oh. Oh. That's what Bart was trying to ask. "I…" Swallowing, Tim tried for a smile. "He feels sorry for putting me in this position, so he tries to at least have a good relationship with me. He gave it to me out of pity. He doesn't… It's not mutual love."

"Not mutual, hm?" And Tim certainly didn't like that look. Kon was prone to do unadvisable things when his friends were concerned. Things he would refuse to regret afterwards, even if Bart and Tim were left to deal with the fallout. And, well, it was cute in a way. But this look, though? That wasn't just concern on Tim's behalf. That was honest to the gods fury. And a furious Kon was even worse than a concerned one.

Fortunately, Bart held up a hand. "Wait. Don't do anything yet..."

Tim took a relieved breath. Kon was settling down again. That was good.

"Let's hear that idiot's excuses first. Then we can hurt him for playing with Timmy's heart."

Nevermind. All of Tim's friends were horrible.

"No! You won't hurt him at all." When Tim glared at his friend, they both huffed but didn't try to argue. Which Tim would count as a win, considering he was talking with Kon and Bart here. "Besides, it's not like he asked for my stuid feelings to get in the way. He was being nice and trying to make the best out of a bad situation. All he tried to do was make sure I didn't feel too scared or suffered any lonelyness in our upcomming marriage. I just... succumbed to my weakness and fell for him on my own. That's all."

"Sounds an awful lot like the kind of horse shit your mother would've planted in your head," Kon sighed, leaning back, "You wanna know how I know? Luthor would've said the same."

"You're not weak for having feelings," Bart translated for Kon, as though Tim needed the translation at all. Though, perhaps Bart just thought that Tim had to hear it twice.

Something pulled loose inside him at hearing this, but even years and years after her death disagreeing with his mother out loud felt... wrong. So all Tim did was smile. A tiny, fragile, but real thing. "My point is," he spoke up again, only deflecting a little bit, "that my betrothed isn't guilty of anything."

Kon did not look very convinced. "Except for threathing you into a marriage you didn't want, that is? One that will isolate you and leave you compltely at his mercy?"

Wincing, Tim also leaned back. "He didn't-"

"Have a choice, yes. You said that already. But did he really not have a choice? Or was that just the easiest route to take?"

Irritated now, Tim scowled at his best friend. "Well do you think anyone would've listened to him if not for the threats? Because as much as I'd like to think we would have done so, I highly doubt it."

Also irriated, Kon jumped up. "Well, maybe there's a reason for that! I mean, they waged a war on us. And we only say that because calling it was it was and saying a slughter would be too terrifying. They commited horrible war crimes, for years. So if that makes diplomacy a little difficult then, sorry, but maybe that's a lesson they should learn? Instead of trying to make up for it, though, they just decided to threaten their way out of it. And then they talk about honour!"

"So he should have let his people starve for the mistakes of his predecessor? The common people rarely ever approve of the wars the people in power wage, so why should they have to pay for it?" Tim all but growled, standing up as well. But instead of facing Kon, he started pacing his room. "Perhaps Danny might be a terrifying enemy, but we don't have to be enemies! He is trying to pace the way for diplomacy to be possible again. But for that he has to break the ages old tradition of keeping to themselves. He's n ot in the kind of position where he can waver or show weakness. He had to succeed, and he made sure to do that. And his people mostly seem to adore him. If you heard the way Sir Rain talked about him... Cruel rulers or, gods forbid, tyrants do not get that kind of reaction. This is him being peaceful. This is him trying. And I like him. I like spending time with him. Maybe he won't be able to prioritise me, but I want to go with him. So what of it? It will give us security, it will placate his people, and I will be happy to go, too. There's nothing lost."

"Just your freedom," Kon grumbled darkly, petulant, "It is not fair to you. Even if you want to go with him for some strange reason, the conditions on which you leave are anything but kind to you. It doesn't matter that you don't think he will do something horrible to you. He could. How will you ever manage to live a happy live together with that kind of power hanging over you? You especially. You're a free spirit, Tim. You've never liked being confined anywhere, much less being told what to do and what to say. The life you're about to start in that godsforsaken land? That's anything but the kind of live you'd enjoy."

"It's not your decision to make!" Whirling around, Tim ended up glowering at Kon with his arms crossed after all. "It's my life. I know what I'm doing. I know Danny much better than you. And I used to think about him that way, too, but he's not like that."

Bart looked at him strangely for a long moment. "You're really gone on him, huh?"

The whispered words sucked all the anger right out of Tim. Because, yes. Right. He was. He really, really was. And Danny did not feel the same, likely never would. He was so casual with his touch, with shows of affection. But he would never actually mean them. Not wholly. It was an obligation to him at best. There were rumours that people from the Lands could read hearts. Perhaps there was more to it than Tim had given the rumour credit for, and Danny was only acting like that to make Tim feel better about his pathetic little feelings and his burning, stupidly hopeful heart.

"Like Cael for Letate," he sighed regardless, a wry smile on his lips.

Groaning, Kon collapsed into his seat again. "The god who self-destructed by chasing a love that was doomed from the beginning. You understand why that comparison doesn't inspire much faith in me, right?"

"The God of Weather loved the Goddess of War with all his being. But as falltered as she was, she was unable to reciprocate his feelings," Bart softly quoted the old myth, eyes full of troubled concern, "Her wild yet protective heart and her strength were an unescapable beacon to him. He cried torrents of rain for her, smiled scorching droughts whenever she called his name, and screamed tempests when she was hurt in her gold persuits. But she was a being of fury and protection, of destruction and unbridled hope. She did not love anything but the bonds created through fighting together.

"In an attempt to gain her attention, Cael gave Letate a gift, the first and only only of its kind. She loved that gift dearly, and it made her look at him much kinder. After a while, she even loved him as much as she ever could have despite her nature. For a while they were happy. But a war does not keep things safe, it takes them. And so she lost that gift, and with it her affection for Cael. Cael, who felt guilty for the pain this loss had caused both of them, never tried to approach her again. But he never stopped loving her, and he neither of them loved anyone else ever again."

Tim laughed humourlessly. "That's... I hadn't realised how much we have in common, Danny and me and those two gods."

Kon scowled. "I'm going to ignore both that you just compared yourself to the myth-level kind of doomed lovestory and that Bart apparently just knows the entire myth by heart, to point out that you didn't deny the gods existence. Has your engagement suddenly made you religious, or did you just decide to abstain from blasphemy going forward...?"

"Ah." True, in the presence of just Bart and Kon he would have made a comment of all the myths being nonsense. He didn't have to petend to be a devout believer here, after all. But after what Danny had told him... "Actually, as it would turn out, the Ancients, at least, do exist. On this plane of existence. I'll apparently meet at least one of them soon after arriving in the Lands? And they seem to really be the childeren of the Gods. So. Who knows, I might actually pick up praying, even?"

Kon opened his mouth. Closed it again. Opened it again. Made a choked sound. Closed it again. "You know what? No. Nope. Uh-uh. I'm not going to think about whatever the fuck that means."

"Wait, so you've been talking about religion with Phantom? I can't say I expected that," Bart mused.

"Amongst other things, yes," Tim agreed, "Mainly because Jason is apparently not cursed by the Ancients but blessed by a dead god."

"No, no, you don't get to just say that as if that's old news. Elaborate. Now."

Sighing, Tim mustered Kon. How did one even begin to explain all of this? Danny had the unnevering habit of just dumping a well of information on anyone in the vacinity. It was a long story to begin with, but by now? Tim wasn't confident that he could even remember all of it.

"It's a long story," Tim warned cautiously. When his friends didn't intercept, he worried his lip between his teeth for a moment, trying to find the right words. "When Jason was taken by the Joker, he was left in the Cursed Lands. Danny found him there and tried to help him. But Jason, even half-dead and barely conscious, had refused violently. He crawled out best he could, but the curse apparently starts with sundown - and Jason hadn't made it all the way out. Danny carries a blessing from the god that died there. And he called upon that god to safe Jason's life.

"But apparently death, or whatever the equivilent of it is for a god, doesn't really help with control of divine powers. So the god blessed Jason, which allowed him to survive, but the blessing went out of control. The blessing wants to help Jason protect who he cares about, but it's too strong for Jason to remember anything beyond that urge when it activates.

"Because of the way magic from the Lands interacts with our magic - and also because that dead god gives blessings the way the Ancients do - the spell Zatanna placed on him was actually slowly killing him. So now we have to remove that spell. But since the blessing will get out of control when we do, we have to do that when we're somewhere safe. Jason also needs to train how to control the blessing without the spell's aid, so he's actually comming with us to the Lands."

That seemed like an accurate summary of the situation. When Tim saw the looks on Kon and Bart's faces, though, he couldn't help but laugh. "I know," he assured them, "And yet somehow it's always like that with Danny and his brother. I have no idea how they manage to keep turning everything I think to know on it's head, but somehow they do."

"Uh-huh." Kon mustered Tim for a moment. "Maybe the prolonged exposure to that made you go crazy. It's explain why your taste in men has suddenly taken such a turn for the worse..."

Tim would not deign that with a response.

"So, a god died?" Bart's eyebrows furrowed. "Wouldn't we have noticed? Which one..."

"Hiemis. The gift Cael gave Letate, I'd guess," Tim explained, sighing, "He was the child of Letate and Cael, and he apparently died in those Lands when the Ancients and the Gods waged a war against each other. He fought on the side of the Ancients, accoridng to the myths of the Lands. I think his death is what cursed the Cursed Lands in the first place? His soul remains in that desert, either way, and he protects them."

Both Kon and Bart looked too stunned to speak. Tim understood the feeling well, so he decided to give them a bit time. Standing, he started to prepare tea. Only after he was done with that and his first cup did Bart speak up again. "You're alergic to normal people, right?"

"It would explain a lot," Kon snorted, burrowing his hands in his face. "Damnit, Tim. Why always you?"

Tim shrugged. He would, quite frankly, like to know that as well. Maybe it was divine punishment for denying the gods' exsitence for so long?

"Right!" Bart clapped his hands together loudly, as though he had to gain their attention back. Maybe he had to with Kon's attention. "That's not something we can do anything about now. But there is something very important that we have to take care of anyways, if Tim is so determined to go with Phantom."

What? He exchanged a look with Kon, but his friend looked just as confused as him. So he turned back to Bart. "And what would that be, pray tell?"

Bart's grin made Tim equally nostalgic - because he probably wouldn't see this expression for a long time - and apprehensive. "Why, we have to figure out your Chosen Name, of course. You can't just go by Tim there if that's such a cultural foux pas."

Oh. Tim... had honestly forgotten to consider that those customs would apply to himself soon as well. Huh.

"You haven't thought about that, have you?" Kon cried, sounding almost outraged, "You planned to go there for a month and haven't even thought about what they should call you?"

Blushing, Tim ducked his head. "Right... Uhm. Braimstorming time?"

"You bet your ass!" Kon groaned dramatically, but his eyes twinkled bemused and his smile was teasing. "Just what would you do without us?"

Tim laughed. What indeed.

Chapter Text

As soon as everyone had arrived, Bruce brought Hal, Barry and Clark into his office. Kaldur'ahm and Starfire were with Dick, Roy and Lian were with Jason, Bart and Conner with Tim. Phantom had gone off with his brother, saying he had some things to discuss with his guards. In other words, this was the ideal moment for a sitrep. The only moment suitable for it, possibly.

"How," Barry breathed as soon as the door fell shut, all but collapsing into one of Bruce's chairs, "did Phantom manage to get even more openly violent?"

What? Oh. Bruce supposed that was right. While he'd had the time to reassess the motives behind Phantom's behaviour and get a… somewhat passible read on the High Chief at least, the others would have only seen the change in behaviour. To Bruce, meanwhile, it hadn't even appeared how little Phantom had bothered to veil his threats earlier today.

Mentally slapping himself on the wrist for that particular screw-up, Bruce cleared his throat to gain attention. It worked, he had all eyes directed on himself in just a few seconds. "From what we've been able to tell about Phantom so far," Bruce explained to the others, voice lowered so as to not be overheard by any passer-by, "he is currently actively attempting to behave peacefully, and sees it necessary to remind us of such bevor we do something too outrageous for him to ignore."

"What?"

"You call that peaceful?" Hal scoffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, "He threatened the League enough to make Oliver sick! Perhaps you've cracked under all the pressure lately, majesty, but you sure aren't thinking straight."

"Ah. So almost punching the High Chief of the Infinite Realms during a political event is better, then? I suppose it must be so, since you're always so level-headed, Hal." bruce raised an eyebrow, making sure to show just how little that stunt earlier had impressed him.

Bruce had known that the young and hot tempered paladin would probably be causing problems. He had not, however, expected the man to make his displeasure at being in Phantom's presence quite so obvious right from the start. They'd been lucky, really, that Bruce's future son-in-law had decided that it was amusing more than anything else. "Your quite the fierce warrior," he'd smirked at Hal, "Almost like a wyvern fledgeling."

He was glad that Hal hadn't thrown a punch in retaliation after all. Having to use his contingencies against the other Leaguers was never nice, after all, so he was relieved that at least had been avoided.

"I-" Flushing, Hal leaned back against the wall he stood in front of. The dark green armor clanked softly with the movement. "He reeks of Realms magic, even more than Pariah Dark himself did. And his first interaction with anyone outside of the Infinite Lands was threatening all of us into submission. You can't honestly tell me it's an overreaction to hate his guts?"

"Despite what you seem to think," Bruce deadpanned, "I did notice him threatening us."

"I- Yeah. But still. He's dangerous. And we've seen with Pariah that you can't just rely on his people's opinion of him-"

"Hal." Bruce tried very hard to be understanding and patient right now. He wasn't sure that was noticeable, though. "Just a few days ago he froze the entire dining hall over because he was angry with his own people, and he didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. I am aware."

Bruce waited for Hal to remember he wasn't the only one unhappy with what had happened in the watchtower fortress. Only then did he break eye contact, allowing the young paladin to relax.

Hal wasn't really suited for the whole diplomatic thing. The holy nation of Oa was ruled by a council of paladins and those were, after all, chosen by the blades and not the council. Hal had been a normal peasant boy before the sword had chosen him, just a young fisherman with not really a lot of skill at fishing but more than enough as a sailor. It'd been years now. The war efforts during the Great Siege was Hal's first assignment after his short training, Bruce thinks, and he knew Hal was a good man at heart. He'd grown since then.

Bruce also still had very little patience for how little Hal knew about etiquette and negotiations and high society in general. But since he'd hailed from Metropolis before moving to a port in Oa and then being chosen, the council usually sent him. Even though they had other, much more suited paladins. Kyle Rainer, for example. He hadn't been a noble before being chosen either, but he was at least adaptable enough to actually learn the standards of what he would need for these assignments.

Hal on the other hand was… Well. He was a good man at heart.

"You said he was attempting to be peaceful," Barry carefully chimed in when the silence lingered, "What did you mean by that?"

Closing his eyes against the nausea at the thought of what could have happened, Bruce sighed deeply. "His experience with Juistrian nobility before this have been… not suited to install confidence in him, it seems. Apparently, the reason why he decided to leave his country at all was because the Ancient of Vegetation refuses to keep blessing the soil and now his people are suffering a food shortage. Or at least they will be soon. And you are aware he gained the throne through a coup d'état. No matter how much his people may have supported him with that, it is bound to cause at least some civil unrest. So he is currently in a position where showing weakness or hesitation is not an option, and where his people cannot remain self-sustaining. But his impression of us was that we were…"

"That we were what, Bruce?" Clark's voice sounded nervous. Bruce didn't blame him. After all his son had just greeted the High Chief himself with a threat. Bruce's heart had almost given out right then and there, and Clark had been too out of it for most of the conversation to do much of anything but staring at the wall. "What experiences are you talking about?"

Biting his lip, Bruce actually considered not telling them. Just for a moment. After all, Phantom had seemed so hurt, so scared, so young when he'd told them. Bruce didn't feel like it was his place to share. But he did need his friends' help with finding more information. Now that Tim actually wanted to go with Phantom more than before.

"Phantom's mother was a noble - probably even a high noble - of Star Kingdom. We suspect that his father forced or tricked her into a marriage with him, but if that's the case Phantom hasn't realised himself. Fact is, she was thrown out of her family, probably declared dead, and she hated the magic of the Infinite Lands."

"Well, I can't blame her for that. It reeks," Hal scoffed, but his eyes softened around the edges. "…Was she abusive?"

Bruce could shake his head, fortunately. "No. But Phantom seems to have been caught up in the war, and he survived only by gaining his first blessing. Apparently, she called him a monster and threw him out onto the streets when he made it home. I don't know the details, but… they died soon after. Phantom seemed sure his mother's response was the usual."

Clark paled considerably at the news. Bruce smiled at him in sympathy - the conclusion had taken a lot out of him, too.

"You're telling me," Bruce's longest friend whispered, horror clear in his voice, "that Phantom, the High Chief of the Infinite Lands, the man who single handedly defeated Pariah Dark himself was abandoned by a high noble of Star and now thinks that's how all of us would react to him?"

"Oh, man," Barry chuckled nervously, "We're so lucky he decided it's even worth the hassle to talk to us at all. I mean, what if he'd decided to just get revenge instead? Can you imagine?"

Bruce could, actually. In fact, he was trying quite desperately not to think about that. Had been for the last few days.

And yet he hadn't even shared the worst of it.

"He was nine," Bruce whispered, face buried in his hands, "And according to him and his brother, the reason he concluded that was a typical reaction is due to many other children crossing the border in similar circumstances. It has always been an issue. And we didn't even know."

Clark gasped in utter horror and when Bruce glanced up even Hal was looking like he'd seen a ghost. "No wonder they never bothered reaching out…"

"Wait!" Barry sat up straight, panic in his face. "Isn't family, like, super important to the people of the Infinite Lands? If they thought we hated them enough to abandon our own children to just die wouldn't us asking to open diplomatic relations have seemed… kind of insulting?"

Bruce closed his eyes again, heard Hal curse and Clark groan loudly. "And someone as easily angered as Pariah Dark would have taken it as a personal slight. Which he, of course, would have retaliated for."

"A war of that scale still seems a bit of an overreaction, though," Hal scoffed, though he was still looking like he'd just eaten a whole lemon and drunk a shot of vinegar after.

"I'm not saying it's justified," Bruce immediately hissed, insulted that Hal would even insinuate as much, "He was cruel, a tyrant beyond compare. I am just saying we might finally know why he decided to turn his cruelty towards us."

"What does it matter?" Hal threw his hands up exasperatedly, "The bastard is finally dead. Why can't we just put that gods forsaken time behind us and forget all about him already like I know we all want to?"

"Because," Bruce hissed, agitated with Hal again, "we have to know what happened to avoid a repeat of it in the future. Or would you like to accidentally cause that hell on earth to start over again?"

"We can't get stuck in the past, but we also can't just gloss over what happened," Clark mediated, "The Infinite Lands has never allowed anyone to establish any kind of relation with them. They've been sticking to themselves for as long as our history recorded, and all we've ever known about them is legends and rumours. Their borders might still be tightly locked, but this is the most open we've ever seen them. If we do this right, we can at least make sure they don't see us as their enemies anymore. We can make a war less likely. Maybe, in a few generations time, we will even be able to claim amenable relations with them."

"That seems to be exactly what Phantom is planing, too," Bruce amended, "He has given no indication what his people think about those plans, but apparently he isn't exactly taken with the idea of gaining more territory. He simply thought doing what he did was the only option to force us into compliance."

"And he thought he had to force our compliance because we hated him too much to even entertain any sort of conversation with him otherwise," Barry groaned, slumping further into his chair. "Which is why he got more open about his battle prowess, too."

"You mean he wants to make sure we get the hint? Why?"

"Because, my friend," Barry answered, standing up to put a hand on Hal's shoulder, "the wedding is approaching. He wants to make sure we won't try anything. Probably out of desperation, since this might be the last possible chance to-"

Despite Barry wincing and breaking off what he was about to say, everyone knew where he had been going. Bruce sighed, gave a tried smile to the worried faces of his friends. "We will not be saving Tim from anything."

"What?! B, you can't just give up like that! I'm sure there's something-"

Raising a hand, Bruce interrupted Clark. "No. What I mean is that things have changed. Tim is… infatuated with Phantom. His decision is to follow him to the Infinite Lands, not only out of necessity anymore but out of his own free will."

"And you're…" Barry exchanged a confused glance with Hal "fine with that?"

"No, I am not," Bruce answered honestly, "But I would rather send my son away with a man he truly loves than to endanger him and break his heart in the same moment. So we will not be doing anything. Especially since the stakes have, unfortunately, risen since then."

"What do you mean by that?" Clark asked carefully, his face showing that he already had a hunch. One that he didn't like, apparently. So perhaps he was even on the right track.

"You are aware of Jason's… ailments?" He got a few nods, though nobody seemed to like what direction the conversation was taking. Good. They were starting to understand, then. "Phantom was there when it happens, as it turns out. He had no idea who the child he'd found was, but he shared some new information. Apparently, a god died in the Cursed Lands a long time ago. That god's spirit still lingers, though he is unable to control his powers. What we assumed to be a curse seems to have been a blessing, one that Jason was unable to control and experienced the worst possible side effects. It is… not uncommon in Phantom's home land, it seems."

"He didn't…" Clark swallowed, his voice brittle and shaking, "He didn't claim Jason, did he? As someone blessed by his gods?"

"No, he did not," Bruce was glad to deny. He had been scared of that happening, honestly, but what had happened was better. Only slightly, but better still. "He informed us that the spell we cast to help Jason remain in control was slowly killing him, however. We talked about the possibilities and." Bruce had to take a deep breath, steady himself. "And we decided to remove that spell and have him learn to control the blessing without relying on it. It will be a difficult and time consuming venture, which is why it was decided that Jason would follow Tim as one of his guards. He will return once his training is completed, though we have been warned that it cannot yet be determined just when that will be."

"Oh," Clark whispered, scrambling up to come and give Bruce a hug. "Oh, Bruce."

"It is," Bruce ground out beyond the welling tears, unsure how to put his feelings into words, "still better than the alternative."

"Of course," Clark soothed him immediately. If they'd been alone, Bruce was sure he would have fallen apart right then and there. But he couldn't allow himself to, not where the others could see and definitely not before he had shared everything. So he took a deep, shuddering breath instead of sobbing pathetically like he wanted and tried to ground himself through Clark's comforting words: "And Jason is strong. He made it through once, he will do it again. This time, he will even have Tim at his side. They'll have each other."

He took another moment to steady himself and to savour the comfort Clark was giving him. Then he nodded, both to Clark and himself, and pushed Clark away. When he got a concerned look, he offered a smile. Judging by the tightening of Clark's lips, however, it wasn't a very convincing one.

"There's more you need to know," he informed the room. Immediately the mood shifted again, attention bright in the air. Clark squeezed Bruce's shoulder once more in comfort, then returned to his seat. He sat on the edge of it, leg bouncing nervously. Bruce found he couldn't fault him for it.

"What else?" Barry asked, and Bruce couldn't fault him for sounding so incredibly resigned either.

Bruce swallowed, not happy with having to repeat that other information they'd managed to get Phantom to share. But this concerned them just as much as Bruce, so he had to. "During his stay here," Bruce forced himself to say slowly, carefully, "Phantom has shared some of the culture of his home. One particularly concerning piece of news has to do with their paint. With the colour of their paint, to be precise."

"The war paint?" Hal asked, surprised and confused in equal measure. And, right, he hadn't been there earlier when Phantom had corrected that misconception for Roy.

"Apparently they call it ceremonial paint," Clark was fortunately the one to share, "The design differs for each clan, and it serves as a family name for them. They apparently do not use those."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "The colours they use have a different meaning. They show what they call their Path." He hesitated for just a moment, thinking about what to say first. "There is a moment in their life where they will officially choose which of their gods to follow. That choice then determines their place in society. We mostly saw red, because that is the colour of warriors. Black is for the chiefs exclusively, and only the High Chief and their spouse wear glowing paint. Phantom and his brother told us about four Paths. One of them is… disconcerting."

"So we should be weary about a certain colour of paint?" Clark asked carefully, eyebrows drawn in concern, "And it isn't red?"

Bruce shook his head. Oh, how he wished warriors would be their biggest problem. "No. Not red. White. White stands for what they call a Wanderer. And a Wanderer is someone who travels all over the place and gathers information. They seem to return home after some time to serve as advisors."

"Spies," Hal hissed out, one gloved fist slamming against the wall behind him in frustration. "They have spies ingrained into their social structure."

When Bruce nodded once, Clark only closed his eyes again in obvious resignment. Barry, meanwhile, worried his lip between his teeth. "And how much can Phantom rely on those spies…?"

"His sister seems to be their leader."

Barry buried his head in his hands, Hal cursed with all the words he'd learned in his time as a sailor, Clark barely seemed to suppress a whimper, and Bruce could only watch them come to accept this information.

"But, wait!" Okay, maybe they weren't quite ready to accept it yet, then. "If they also wear that paint all the time, how come we haven't noticed anything? I mean, surely someone wearing strange symbols on their faces would rouse suspicion, even if it wasn't in the red we've come to expect?"

Alright, Bruce admitted quietly, that was a valid point. It seemed Bruce had accidentally left out vital information. "Well, Barry," he sighed, "that would be because they do not always wear that paint. I'm yet to understand when they do wear it, but apparently it is not done all the time. For Wanderers, however, it is customary to hide their faces if it is without paint. They can do so as they wish, and it seems to relieve them of wearing the paint when one normally would. As long as nobody sees their unpainted face, though, it is their choice."

"Chieftess Desiree," Clark realised with a gasp.

Nodding grimly, Bruce met Clarks eyes. "She appears to have been an influential Wanderer before becoming a Chieftess.

"Which would explain why she was the one leading the talks about the trade treaty," Barry realised, "And why Phantom waited for her approval before accepting Tim as his fiancé."

Hal frowned at his friend, lips still drawn into a tight line and definitely thinking about how to report this to the Council back in Oa. "What do you mean? Why would that explain those things?"

"As a Wanderer," Clark explained patiently, "she would know immediately if we lied about, say, how much of our harvest could be spared. Or what is commonly available in our markets. What we would have use of, even. Anything concerning commerce, really."

"Hrn," Bruce agreed, "And Phantom would have waited for her judgement to make sure the one he was marrying was suitable to…"

"To threaten us thoroughly," Hal finished when Bruce couldn't, "Astri! He was just playing with us the entire time?"

"I do not think it was a purposeful deception," Bruce admitted softly, "He seemed genuinely surprised that the knowledge concerning their Paths was not common sense. He claimed Chieftess Desiree honoured the traditions of the Wanderers despite becoming a Chieftess by still wearing her veil. I think it was also to let us know what she was, however."

"But we were too uninformed to notice his hints," Barry groaned, "How many other things did we miss? What if there was even more to be read between the lines that we were too inept to pick up?"

"I am most certain that we have," Bruce couldn't help but agree. Another round of curses ensued. Bruce himself didn't join in - he'd unfortunately run out of all the curses he knew about two days into this mess.

He did wait until they were done, however. Only then did he straighten in his seat once more. Carefully, he met the eyes of each of his friends. Including even Hal. "Gentlemen," he said, "It has become obvious that Novitate has looked upon us. Whatever new thing the Goddess of Change wants to build, let us make sure that we and our kingdoms will not be the thing she tears down for it."

Fortunately for him, Hal at least had the presence of mind to agree together with the rest of them.

Chapter Text

"She's a precious one," Jay chuckled once the blanket was wrapped securely around Lian. Roy's little princess hummed softly in her sleep, curling into it tighter, and Roy couldn't help the soft smile playing around his lips.

"Well, duh," he whispered, not wanting to rouse her from the nap they'd finally convinced her to take, "She's my daughter, after all! How could she share the same bloodline as this-" he gestured at his face "-and not be the cutest little thing you've ever seen?"

Snorting, Jay shook his head. "Idiot," he mused fondly, but he pulled Roy into a short, tight hug. And knowing Jay, that meant something was very wrong. His best friend didn't like physical contact much, after all. Not unless he was worn out and exhausted form a fight or two. He didn't trust himself with it, not as long as he was still able to think properly.

"So what happened?" Roy asked once they broke apart again, sitting on the armrest of the sofa his precious girl was sleeping on. Jay, dramatic as always, let out the longest sigh Roy had ever heard as he threw himself into one of the plush chairs close by.

He was quiet for a worryingly long amount of time. Just when Roy was considering panic might be appropriate right about now, Jay finally muttered: "Y'know I'm cursed, right?"

Of course Roy knew. Everyone knew. and being Jay's best friend, Roy had more than often enough been his shoulder to cry on about it, too. After all, Jay was incredibly devout. Got it from his mother, as far as Roy knew. He was the kind that actually prayed every evening and every time he was scared. Didn't call the gods' names in vain and all that shit either. Though he did invoke them a lot when he was despairing, admittedly, just not to cuss. He had a variety of colourful words unrelated to the gods for that. Most of wich had to do with either damnation or fucking, now that Roy thought about it.

Huh.

Anyways. Jay might very well be the most devout person Roy knew. And that absolutely included the priests of Star's churches. Not that that was particularly difficult, of course. Money-hungry bastards steeped in corruption, the lot of them.

Point is, being cursed was harsh on Jay. It would've been bad for anyone, of course. But Jay suffered under the thought that the gods themselves hated him pretty much the same amount as the effects of the curse themself.

Jay waited for Roy to answer with a short, worried nod, before he continued: "Well. My future brother-in-law had some… really world changing news for me about that."

What?

Like, it made sense that it bothered Jay if it was about that. But what kind of news could Phantom possibly have had? Sure, it was a curse form the Lands. They all knew that. But they already knew what the curse was and how bad it could get. Right?

When Roy didn't say anything, Jay offered him a tired smile. Roy couldn't manage to reciprocate it. Still, Jay leaned back, eyes trained on the ceiling in faux casualty. "First things first: Their religion is actually tied to ours. Like, they don't just call those dragons of their the Children of the Gods. Their whole mythology is actually based on the same as ours, just… the next generation, I suppose?"

Alright? What had that to do with anything? Had Phantom somehow managed to make Jay's religious guilt even worse? Would Roy have to die trying to kill Phantom in his sleep? He hoped Jay would take Lian in if it came to that, rather than Oliver. Her grandpa wasn't equipped to handle children, especially right now. Jay, though, was a good person. It's why Lian liked him so much. She had a good feeling for that.

Well. Usually, that is.

Fully prepared to offer Jay a shoulder to cry on because he was abandoned and hated by the gods - who, by the way, were obviously all morons if that was true - Roy made a soft sound to show he was listening.

"Right. And in our texts they mention a child god. That child god's mother is Letate, and she lost the child. It's why Cael feels too guilty to keep courting her, and why she supports any mother's feelings of protective rage over their children."

Roy nodded along as Jay explained, grateful that his friend just assumed he'd slept through the mass where they explained this. Because he had, obviously. Masses were boring after all. And what did the gods care whether he was listening to a corrupt priest's gossip about them anyways? Still annoying when he actually needed religious knowledge in a conversation, though.

"According to the legends of the Infinite Lands, that child god was called Hiemis. He was the god of seasons, apparently? In their legends, Hiemis died for the Ancients. He was standing against all the gods to protect them during the war between the Gods and the Ancients. He died in the Cursed Lands, and his spirit is still lingering there."

"And that's the god that cursed ya?" Roy braved a guess. Which, well, that wouldn't be ideal. But at least it would mean Jason would only have to worry about one god hating him. That would be better than anything so far. If so, it looked like Lian would grow up with her father around after all. Awesome! Roy much preferred that. For obvious reasons.

But unfortunately, Jay shook his head. "Apparently he didn't mean to curse me at all," Jay whispered, and Roy didn't think it had anything to do with waking up Lian anymore, "He… He wanted to help me. He wanted me to survive. It's just that he can't control his powers enough, with being dead and all. So he…" Jay took a deep, shaky breath. "He blessed me. It was just too strong for me to handle. But it was a blessing. Roy. Roy, he doesn't hate me. None of the gods do."

And, oh. That was a heartbreaking amount of wonder and hope in both Jay's eyes and voice. Roy decided he didn't care whether the legends of the Infinite Lands were true or not. He'd make all the gods angry by praying to children that didn't exist if it meant Jay could keep feeling so happy.

"That's wonderful, Jay," he whispered, "I knew there was no way the gods could actually hate you! I've been telling you for years."

"Yes," Jay deadpanned, looking not impressed at all but still to painfully happy, "Right along side something blasphemous like how you would fight them to make them take the curse away again if you ever saw any of them."

"I would've," Roy shrugged, "But it looks like I won't have to, huh?"

Jay laughed in stead of an answer and, yep, Roy did not like that laugh. At all. His friend was definitely bothered by something else. Narrowing his eyes at him, Roy hummed. "As nice as those news might be, though," he prompted, "there's more to it, huh?"

"That obvious?" When Roy only levelled him with a flat look, Jay chuckled again. "Well, yes. There is more, unfortunately." He histated for a moment. "You'll have to find someone else to leave Lian with when you're doing mercenary work."

That sounded so random. But it also sounded a lot like Jay telling Roy that this would be the last time they'd see each other. At least in a while, because Roy refused to accept this would be the last time he'd see his best friend at all.

With a heavy stone suddenly lodged inside his stomach, Roy swallowed and then demanded: "Why?"

Jay smiled ruefully. "Because apparently the magic of the Infinite Lands comes from inside the body. Our kind of blessing would use magic from outside our body, apparently? The divinity in the air, in case of a blessing, if I understood it right. But since the magic of the Infinite Lands, blessings or otherwise, build up inside of the body. And the spells that help me with controlling it keep that magic to leak out. But every time there's too much magic for the spell to suppress it, it keeps piling up."

Ah. Roy winced. That sounded bad. Uncomfortable, too. He could imagine what that would mean for his friend if the magic just kept piling up and couldn't be released. There was only so much space inside of his body, after all. Still hoping to be wrong, he asked: "And if too much of it piles up…?"

"I die."

"Fuck." Roy buried his face in his hands. "Fuck, Jay."

Again, Jay chuckled. He sounded scared this time. "That's one way to put it, yes. It certainly ain't good, that's for sure."

"No. I mean… Novitate's cruel claws, Jay!" Even when Jay made a chocked sound, obviously not happy by Roy cussing like that, he didn't manage to care that he'd just insulted a god. "So you're just… doomed?"

"No," Jay sighed. It didn't sound like the option was much better, though. "We can safe me. But for that I need to let them break those spells and then I'll need to train my control. And since we don't know how long that will take other than long I'll have to join Timmy on his little journey."

"You're leaving?" Roy glanced at Lian. She would be so heartbroken when he told her. Shit, Roy felt like that one time he'd gotten an arrow to the chest and thought Astri's shit, this is it. He'd survived it back then, of course, but only because he'd had Jay.

He'd always had Jay, ever since they first met. They'd had each other.

Jayson, he… He was like family to Roy and Lian. He wasn't just Roy's best friend. Jay, for all his own fears of snapping and succumbing to his apparently-not-curse, was the safest haven Roy had. They'd met when Oliver had found out about Roy's addiction problem. He'd been there through the whole recovery, stayed through the ugly, the bad and the worse. He'd been there when Roy started to do mercenary work, had even insisted they would work as a team. He'd let Roy sleep in his mansion in Crime Alley when he'd been between jobs and couldn't afford inns anymore. He'd been there when he'd met Jade and fallen for her, when she'd broken Roy's heart into tiny peaces. He'd been there when Roy had found out Lian was on the way.

Jason had been there when Jade had been pushed into early labour by that failed assassination attempt. Roy had been a mess, but Jay had stayed with him the entire time. He'd held him as he shook apart, so convinced he would loose both of them and already grieving.

Jay had been there when Lian had said her first word. He'd been there when Roy finally reunited with Oliver after all those years.

Roy honestly wasn't sure he even remembered how to be strong without Jay there to make sure nobody stabbed him in the back for it. He wasn't sure he even remembered what it was like not to have some part of himself waiting for a letter about Jay's curse acting up again, always preparing to drop everything to get to his best friend.

It didn't matter that they were royals of two different kingdoms. It didn't matter that Roy was somehow the heir when he'd been born a peasant, and that Jay was the feared second prince of their neighbours who was only respected by the people of his own domain and his family. Not to them, at least.

Roy had no idea when or how it happened. But Jay and Roy, they took care of each other. They protected each other. They knew that no matter what happened, no matter how grave the situation, the other would be there. Shit, Roy didn't even trust himself as much as he trusted Jay sometimes!

And now he would be leaving?

This just had to be a cruel joke by the gods.

Even as Jay snorted in humour his eyes reflected the pain Roy felt. "Oh, please. Try not to sound like some hysterical damsel sending her husband off to war and surely die. I'll be fine. It's just a bit of training, is all."

Roy hummed, leaning back. "That so?"

"Yep." Uh-huh. Jay wasn't convincing anyone with that, not as long as his hands trembled like that.

"Fine, then," Roy nodded, "When are we leaving?"

That, at least, startled Jay enough to drop the cheery act. "We?" Roy only raised an eyebrow. "You mean you're coming with me?"

"Sure am." Roy shrugged, trying to pretend he wasn't so damn scared.

Almost in a panic, Jay shook his head. "No!"

"If-" Lian stirred in her sleep. Both of them froze, waiting for her to resettle. Roy took a deep breath and made sure to lower his voice again when he continued: "If you're going, then so am I."

"You can't," Jason denied, vehemently shaking his head, "Roy, you have Lian to worry about. Phantom already has some weird thing about your family! Maybe he's exempt you from it, but if you're around all the time, who knows how long that will last?"

Who knows, huh?

Thoughtfully, Roy looked at the little figurine Phantom had conjured. Lian had refused to part with it, so they'd given it its own spot on the table where it could "watch her play". When he reached out to touch the small animal, it felt different than he would have expected. Neither sticky nor wet. A bit rough, but mostly smooth. Almost like a stone, just colder. But not cold enough to hurt.

"He was kind to her," Roy whispered, "I was scared 'bout how close he was and I might have had a minor heart attack when he started using magic so close to her. But he was… patient. Took the time to explain whatever she was curious about. He wasn't talking down either and he didn't get offended when she pointed out how weird he looked to her. That's better than most Star nobles, even. And he even told me to come to him if we needed anything. He told me to come seek refuge with him should another war break out after all, that he acknowledged our family ties. Even if I don't really know what family ties he was speaking about…"

"His mother," Jay sighed deeply, frowning at something far away, "was a noble from Star. She was distantly related to Oliver, if what he's told us is to be believed, and she died without receiving help from her family. He blames him for that, Bruce thinks. Timmy asked before you arrived, and he said he had no special interest in you either way. Seems like he liked the little one enough for that to change, at least."

Wincing, Roy sucked in a breath. "Yeah, that would do it. Poor guy, that must have been horrible."

"It seems to have been," Jay sighed, "But don't feel too bad. She was a terrible mother."

When Roy threw him a questioning look, Jay only shook his head. But Roy knew how Jay felt about bad parents and why. So he figured if Jay was saying it that darkly then it must be true. It made Roy feel only marginally better, though.

"But even then," Jay spoke up again, obviously back to their original topic, "Oliver will get a heart attack if you tell him you're joining me to live with Phantom out of everything. You will actually kill your father with that."

And, well, that was probably true. Roy couldn't help but think about Oliver when he'd departed. That haunted look in his eyes. Him all but begging them not to join at all. How he had made Roy promise over and over and over again to run if anything seemed to be going awry.

But still! This was Jason!

While he couldn't disagree with or refute Jay's point, Roy still muttered out: "But I don't want you to be alone there…"

Jay smiled at him, something grateful in his eyes. "Well, I'll have Tim. And… Phantom's brother seems alright."

Phantom's brother? Roy thought back to the tall, muscular man who needled Phantom the entire time, had insulted him and even gotten him to retaliate physically. The man honestly seemed more… insane to Roy than anything.

But insane was Jay's type, Roy knew, and there was a small smile playing at the edges of his lips, something soft and warm in his eyes. Roy knew Jay very well. So even if he didn't understand it, he still knew what this was. "You like him?"

"He's nice enough," Jay answered casually, not looking at Roy, "Easy to talk to. Loyal. Loves his family. He's had it rough, too, because of what he is. So he gets it, you know? Even if he's never even touched a book! I mean, can you believe it?! Still, he baked with me. Shared his favourite recipe or whatever. It was nice."

"Hm… So that was a date, then?"

Immediately, Jay turned red. And, huh. Roy hadn't expected it to be that bad. Still, Jay shook his head. "No! I don't even know if he likes men and- Don't look at me like that. We're just talkin'. He's my future in-law is all! We're friends, maybe - but nothin' more!"

"You'd like to be, though?"

For a moment, Jay froze. Then, he deflated, burring his face in his hands. "I– I dunno. Maybe?" He glanced up at Roy, then sighed and straightened. "But even if that's true - and I'm not sayin' it is, alright? - nothing will come of it."

"Why not?" Roy frowned at Jay. He was the second prince. Before the betrothal even Tim had been closer to inherit the throne given Jay's magic episodes. He might be in charge of Park Row and had his own home in Crime Alley, but Jay was pretty much free by royal standards. So why would it matter who he loved? Especially if his family was already aligned with Phantom's?

"He's the Head of the Army," Jay whispered softly, "He can't leave the Lands. And I am a prince of Gotham. I would never leave the Alles behind. Or my family. I just got 'em back."

Ah. Distance. That might be a good reason, actually.

Sighing, Roy leaned back. "Well, I'm glad you found someone you like spending time with regardless. You deserve it."

Even as Jay wrinkled his nose, he turned even pinker. "Ew. Stop with all that mushy shit, alright? That's not for me."

That managed to make Roy laugh despite everything. "Says the guy who reads every romance novel like a dork."

"Wha- Hey! Just because I like the arts-"

"Be quiet," Roy laughed, "You'll wake Lian up."

Indignantly, Jay huffed. "No, I ain't."

"Right, Daddy," Lian agreed with Jay, crawling into his lap, "He ain't."

At Jay's absolutely baffled look, Roy couldn't help but laugh even louder.

Chapter Text

That evening found them all in the dining hall. It wasn't the same one they'd used for dinners so far, but then this was a state dinner. And they were a lot more people.

Since everyone had brought a guard inside the dining hall, Danny had flashed Hyacinth quickly to come inside in Water Speak. He knew, after all, that Ghost Speak was looked upon with a deep frown in Oa. And they had one of their Paladins right here! He shouldn't offend him. So no Ghost Speak, and all warriors were required to know Water Speak as well, after all. So he knew Hyacinth would understand.

It was not even the twenty day of Gróða today, which meant there were still many nights left before the new moon would spell the beginning of Nóttur. Still, this was an official gathering and an evening meal at once. So while it was neither full moon nor new moon, Danny still opted for the more formal evening greeting when he entered with Hyacinth at his back and both Dan and Tuck at his side.

Tapping his closed hand to his heart twice as usual, he then raised his other hand to tap his wrists together, both hands still closed in loose fists. "May Astri be with you tonight, and may Nocturn guard you."

Next to him, Dan followed Danny's example and he was sure Hyacinth was doing the same, too. Tucker, though, placed his right hand flat against his heart and his left arm behind the small of his back. He then inclined his head deeply, lowering himself into the hint of a bow. Danny had told him not to bow unnecessarily like last time anymore, but Tucker insisted to at least follow southern customs this much. It still set Danny's teeth on edge to have someone under his protection bow their head to anyone, let alone a whole room. But he kept it in for now.

He didn't mean it in the way it was used in the Lands, Danny tried to tell himself firmly.

"You highnesses, your majesties, I am honoured to humbly greet you," Tucker said demurely, raising his head back up again. "I am a Weaver of Clan Phoenix, and in charge of the carriage his highness will be using upon his departure after the wedding. Well met."

He didn't give them his name, Danny noted with some relief. At least he hadn't felt pressured enough to go that far, then. Even if he still felt he needed to bow.

Danny smiled softly at Tucker, letting him know that he approved. Then he made his way over to the free spaces at the table. He took the one next to Prince Timothy, two seats down from King Bruce. Tucker sat next to him and Dan between Tucker and the Centrean royals. Hyacinth took a guarding position behind Danny and his fiancé.

"Did you have a good talk with your friends, dear?" Danny asked Prince Timothy, gently taking his hand. "I know you were excited to see them before the wedding."

"Yes, we did," the Prince smiled, shoulders somehow more relaxed than since Tim had met him. Huh. Danny would have to make sure those two would visit often once the roads were established. They seemed to make his future husband very happy.

Turning to look at the Metropolian prince across from himself and then to the side where the Centrean prince sat, Danny hummed. They both shifted under his considering gaze but didn't look away. That was a good sign. If they weren't that uncomfortable with the magic in his eyes… "I'm glad. Perhaps you can invite them to visit sometime. I'm sure you'd like to tell them all about the Lands."

For some reason, though Danny wasn't sure why, he noticed some of the royals stiffen in his periphery. He also heard Tucker sigh, though, so he was sure it was somehow his fault. But why? All he'd done was offer to welcome his husbands friends if they wanted it?

"Perhaps," Prince Timothy agreed with a light chuckle, "I would enjoy some light conversation with them, if nothing else."

Satisfied, Danny nodded. "I see. Once you've settled in, then. The Lands can be a bit much in the beginning, and I wouldn't want for you to get overwhelmed trying to get accustomed and hosting your friends at the same time."

"Of course," the Prince nodded, "I will take my time to get accustomed with my new life."

Danny nodded without saying anything, not trusting his voice right now. Because that was right, wasn't it? He'd managed to forget it over how enamoured he was with the prince, but he would be leaving everything behind. His entire life. Everything and everyone he had ever known.

Danny still remembered his first few moons in the Lands, even if most of his life back then was a blur to him now. What he still remembered was how confused and scared he'd been all the time, though. The Lands might as well be an entirely different world, Danny knew, and getting accustomed to them was no light task. Yet he wouldn't even be able to help Prince Timothy with the whole process. After all, he would have to take care of the magic surge during the solstice. Dan as well. Tuck would return to Nicolai and Sam wouldn't leave Undergrowth's side either. The only person in the entire clan available to help the prince would be Ellie - and Prince Timothy had never even met her!

Danny felt incredibly cruel in that moment. He didn't like the feeling.

Fortunately he was saved from giving more of an reaction when the door opened again. Prince Roy came rushing in, a nervous smile on his lips and a grinning daughter on his hip. "Forgive my tardiness, please," he greeted them, "I must confess I forgot the time."

Giggling again, the young princess cuddled closer to her father. It was a precious sight. "I ran away from Daddy like whoosh!" she explained, sounding very proud of herself.

Snorting, Danny raised an eyebrow at her. "You played catch?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Did you win?" Another nod. "Then," Danny decided solemnly, "that is a perfectly reasonable thing to be late for. I bet you're very hungry now, though?"

Princess Lian tilted her head in thought, then nodded. "Yes. I'm hungry. Can we eat now?"

Exasperated but entirely fond, Prince Roy sighed. "We can eat in a bit, baby. That's what we're here for, remember?"

The look Princess Lian gave her father was downright betrayed. From their words and his time helping out with the younger children back in his rebel days, Danny figured the child had decided to play a game of catch with her rather unwilling father as soon as he'd told her they had to be somewhere, fully knowing people were waiting for them, and was now blaming him for her own actions. It seemed that children were the same no matter where one went.

Cute.

Chuckling at the child's antics, Danny send a soft wind over to her, careful to make sure it wasn't cold. He let it carry a single snowflake that he flicked against her nose. It startled her, but then she started laughing. "Hey!"

Danny smirked at her, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her. He was supposed to be a demure, adult, dignified High Chief right now, after all. So instead he winked at her.

"Sit, darlin'," Danny told her, tapping into the heavy Star accent he used to have back in the day. It had almost vanished by now, replaced with the harsher pronounciation of the Lands, but he'd spend enough of his childhood in Star that he could still drag it out of his memory when he wanted. And to see the way the girl absolutely lit up when she heard it it was worth it. "We'll be eatin' real soon, but cha gotta be at the table to eat, yeah?"

"You sound like aunty Alicia!" Princess Lian exclaimed in wonder. And, ouch. He honestly hadn't expected her to mention his aunt. His mother's younger sister hadn't been a big part of his life, even before… everything. Still, the duchess had always been kind. She'd been pregnant and unable to travel when Danny's funeral had happened, but she's send all of his favourite flowers to be put on the casket.

Trying to hide how much that name had affected him, Danny hummed. "That so?"

"Yeah!" Princess Lian, who had apparently not noticed anything, nodded enthusiastically. "She's from a city in Illinois, so she sounds funny sometimes."

"Wow," Danny hummed, ignoring how both Dan and Tuck had gone stiff next to him, "I was actually born there, did cha know that?"

"You were born in Star?" Prince Timothy asked for some reason, obviously baffled. Danny didn't know why, had actually thought it would have been obvious. Danny's parents had been from Star and related to Ollie. They knew that. Danny knew they knew that, he'd told them himself. He knew he had, because he had been worrying over whether that had been too much said in bed that night, right up until he decided that it didn't matter what Ollie wanted, it was his own past too and he could share it with whomever he liked.

"I was," Danny confirmed regardless, not seeing the point in doing anything else, "Though I admit I don't remember much of my time there."

"No wonder," Dan grumbled under his breath, sounding petulant, "You were even smaller than then you are now."

Raising an eyebrow, Danny slowly turned to Dan. "Care to repeat that?"

Dan looked up at him, cocked his head to the side and snorted. "What, are you going to say it's not true?" When Danny gave him a pointed look, Dan only rolled his eyes. "Eat your food."

"I will, thanks." Danny let out a breath of amusement at the obvious doubt in his brother's eyes. "Worrywart. I'm perfectly fine feeding myself, brother."

"Wha-" Dan threw up his hands in exasperation. "Unbelievable. I swear by my aunt's name, you're-"

"She's not your aunt," Danny chimed in, knowing full well who Dan was talking about. Next to him, Tucker snickered into his cup. "Because her brother is not related to me. A close relationship doesn't make a family."

When neither of them said anything, definitely only because of their earlier made plan of showing a united front here, Danny turned back to his soon-to-be-husband. "Don't mind him," he said, though he didn't hide the amusement colouring his voice, "Nocturn's just whispering in his ear, is all."

"Nocturn?" the Prince repeated questioningly, tilting his head adorably. He was wearing his circlet again, the first time since just after their arrival in Gotham. He was much luckier than Danny in that regard, it seemed. Though Danny was certainly much luckier in who he would marry, so he supposed it all evened out.

"The Ancient of Dreams, your Highness," Tucker explained when Danny took just a bit too long to admire the way the golden accessory made his hair look even blacker and his skin so soft and lively. "He's said to be the son of Astri, though neither one would probably appreciate any mention of that."

"You mentioned both of them in your greeting earlier," Prince Timothy observed softly, looking between Danny and Tucker. And Danny would be damned if he didn't want those perfect blues to remain focused on him alone.

"It's a traditional greeting for New Moon nights," he took over the explanation, his heart jumping when it worked to regain his betrothed's attention, "Astri's powers are the strongest then but his sight the weakest. His sister isn't very fond of the Ancients, and neither those under their protection. There's an old superstition that she would try to get revenge for what happened to Astri in those nights, and that Astri tries to stop her. Nocturn, on the other hand, shines bright alongside the stars in all nights, and his powers can dampen hers while she infringes on his domain. The greeting is meant to guard you from her influence."

There was a long bout of silence. Then, slowly, Danny's betrothed drew his eyebrows together. "The new moon… is still some nights away, is it not?"

"Gróða is only about halfway through," Danny agreed. When the Prince's confusion visibly grew, Danny smiled: "The greeting is also used on official meetings that take place during the evening. I figured that applied well enough to this, don't you agree?"

"Ah. Yes, I suppose so," the Prince chuckled lightly at Danny's joke, "Uhm. And Grow-Thaw is…?"

"Gróða," Danny corrected gently, "The name comes from the words gróa and gyðja, which mean to grow and priestess respectively in the ancient language. Gróðja, the original name, was shortened to Gróða at some point. It's the sixth moon, dedicated to Undergrowth. It stands for growth and the connection to nature. We honour it by not harming any plants the first two days and the night connecting them - which also includes burning or processing wood. I've always been grateful it's in summer."

"So… It's Letis, then? You renamed Letis to Grotar?"

"Gróða. The o goes up, and the a at the end is short and soft," Danny tried to explain the unfamiliar word, "And, no, we did not. We you have twelve months, measuring a solar calendar. Like I said, Eose doesn't take kindly to us. We use a lunar calendar, measuring twelve moons. It's a few days shorter than yours, and each moon starts with the new moon night."

"Our new year eve doesn't align?" For some reason, that idea seemed to make Prince Timothy emotional. Perhaps because memorising the new calendar would be a pain. Danny could understand that, it had been horrible to learn back when he'd been new to the Lands. He was one of few who could even do conversions at all. Danny would probably get emotional learning he had to remember all of it again, too.

"Not always… But it's an Equilibrial Tide right now," Dan chimed in.

Danny groaned, and when his betrothed only seemed to get more confused he explained: "Another superstition, and a particularly ridiculous one. It's what they call the year where the first day of both our calendars align. It happens every seventy-three years, and it has everyone all rattled for the entire duration."

"It's not just a superstition!" Dan scoffed, crossing his arms and sinking back in his chair to sulk. "It's important. Really, how can you not be concerned? You're playing with your fate again!"

Danny sighed. He understood that this was an important part of their culture, at least. He could respect that. But the year wasn't even halfway done and Danny was just so tired already. Of having his work made harder, just because of a stupid date, and of having to listen to everyone around him look at him opening a door and reacting like he was opening Pandora's chest to unleash what only the Ancient herself knew was in there. It was exhausting. And everyone was just so scared and hopeful all the time!

"Yes, of course. Because two arbitrarily assigned dating systems made by mere mortals are absolutely going to define anything in Clockwork's domain, sure." Taking a deep breath, because Dan didn't deserve the way Danny had just all but spat the words at him, he tried to calm himself. Then, he turned back to his betrothed. "One of too many superstitions floating around in our home is that the universe is in equilibrium during a year like this one. Something about life and the cosmos being in harmony. They think because of that the decisions we make this year will set the course for the next seventy-two years, and that it's a time of great changes and notable events."

"Pariah Dark was born in the last Equilibrial Tide!" Dan chimed in again. Like that was any argument.

"Yes. And a lot of people were born the same year. And this year. I also changed a lot, did I not? And I was neither born nor blessed nor crowned nor anything during a Tide." Sighing, Danny pinched his nose. This same old argument was another reason why Danny was starting to absolutely loath Tides. "Look, can we not do this again? It is just a calendar. And you're never going to believe it. Let's just leave it at that."

Tucker snorted from next to Danny. "Ah, yes. Superstitions, the bane of your existence. I forgot about that."

Danny could just feel the way hyacinth was hiding a smirk, all while judging Danny. Groaning, Danny raised his cup. Just to have something to do, he took a long sip from it. And, huh. Was there alcohol in this? He should make sure Tuck didn't drink too much of it, then. The poor guy was an absolute lightweight.

"Can we eat now? I'm still hungry," a loud and annoyed voice called from over the table. Surprised, Danny looked over at Lian. He had… forgotten how many people were with them, honestly. And they were all quiet. So they'd been listening to their conversation. Wonderful.

"I'm sure we can, darling," Danny said, instead of melting into an embarrassed puddle on the floor like he wanted to. When he looked to King Bruce in question, the man waved at a nearby servant to start bringing out the food. Danny smiled at him in thanks, then turned to the other guests. His eyes caught on the paladin from Oa.

Danny liked the man. He had a fire in his eyes and he wasn't overly concerned with how rude he seemed. And Danny preferred the rough kind, honestly, since they were easier to deal with and usually didn't have as many hidden agendas. He didn't understand why people would be making that many plans all at once anyways. It must be exhausting. And, well, perhaps it was his upbringing but Danny preferred just doing what needed to be done rather than wasting time to convince everyone and draw lines in the sand. Ellie told him it was also important, so he supposed it was. Still, though, it felt so… useless.

No, Danny liked people who didn't hide who they disliked much better. Like the paladin, for example. Danny wasn't sure what he'd done for the paladin not to like him, but at least he had shown it obviously right from the start. So that was nice. He was also very obviously a capable warrior, and Danny could respect that. The way he carried himself spoke of a well-trained man.

Honestly, the paladin reminded Danny somewhat of a newly hatched wyvern. Right when they were at their wildest, before they mellowed out with age and exposure to social life. They were dangerous then, strong and impossible to convince of anyone. They were fiercely loyal to their flight and would listen to their mother and sire, but nobody else - not even those they knew were stronger than them.

It wasn't easy to be as courageous and protective as a wyvern hatchling, and even those that were like that usually mellowed out with politics as wyverns did with age. It had impressed Danny, really, and he could tell that Dan felt similarly.

Still, Danny wondered what he had done to deserve the scorn.

Making eye contact, Danny took another sip. What could he do to thaw the ice? Hm… Maybe small talk? That was how people warmed up to each other, right? Talk about anything but something with importance?

Well, Ellie was better at it than him, but he could try at least. Carefully putting his cup down - the wine was red and the cloth looked expensive - Danny smiled at the paladin. "Knight," he addressed him, since Danny had honestly been a bit too distracted to remember the guy's name earlier, "I just realised I forgot to ask. When did you get your sword?"

Obviously bristling, the man's hand instantly moved to his sword still fastened to his side. "What."

Alright. So that hadn't worked. It was a bit late to turn back, though, so Danny only smiled. "I hear the paladins of Oa are chosen by their sword rather than being assigned. So you started training after you were chosen, right? I suppose I wondered how long you've been gaining experience by now."

The paladin watched Danny for a few more seconds before finally answering: "Nineteen years ago. Shortly after the war broke out. My predecessor was one of the first who fell."

"Huh," Danny answered, honestly surprised, "I wouldn't have thought it'd been that long."

"What? Why not?"

Apart from the fact that he obviously looked too young to have been fighting for all of Danny's life? "Most people start to cringe away from those much stronger than them after some time spend fighting. It's downright instinctual. Only the truly brave or stupid don't care about it, even after such a long time." Danny shrugged, watching the now weary man. "Not many who don't hail from the Lands would glare at me like that. Not when they can tell exactly how much magic I have."

It was good to know that the knights of Oa really were as brave as he'd heard.

Something defiant lit in the man's eyes. When Danny said that, though he wasn't sure why. Before he could say anything, however, a salad was placed in front of him. When he glanced across the table he found Princess Lian already digging into her own, disregarding manners completely. Her father seemed to gently urge her to wait. That only earned him another betrayed look as the girl shoved another fork full of vegetables into her mouth.

"Salad?" Danny noticed the Atlantean Prince ask the Tamaranian Princess next to him, "Not soup?"

"It's for my comfort," Danny explained to her, smiling apologetically, "I know it's not traditional, but I hope you don't mind. It's just that I don't eat soup on principal."

Startled, the crown prince turned to Danny. "You don't? Do you mind me asking why?"

"Because-"

"You can never tell what's in there!" both Dan and Tucker finished before Danny could. He even thought he had heard Hyacinth mutter the same phrase from behind himself. When Danny turned to glare at his friend and brother, the two of them looked entirely unrepentant.

"Because," Danny repeated glaring at them, then turned back to the Atlantean Prince with a much kinder expression, "I was almost killed by soup various times when I was a child. So I just don't feel comfortable eating any now. Even if I'm fairly sure I'd survive it."

"That's fine," Princess Lian spoke up, having already finished her own salad and now eating her father's, "I don't like eating Brussels sprouts. They taste bad."

"That they do," Danny agreed, nodding sagely, even if he wasn't entirely sure of the connection to what they'd just talked about, "But you're eating other vegetables?"

"Only if they taste good," the princess informed Danny, taking another bite of carrots.

Snorting, Dan rested his chin on his palm. "You're cute, you know that?"

The princess nodded seriously. "I know. I'm very cute. And precious."

Chuckling, Dan nodded at her. "Right you are, kid. Hey, we're doing a Circle of Stars later. Wanna join us?"

Unfortunately for the tablecloth, Danny choked on the sip of wine he'd had in his mouth. "We are?"

Hyacinth was judging him as much as Tucker and Dan were, he could feel it. "You're getting married tomorrow, brother! Of course we are doing a Circle of Stars."

"What would that be?" Prince Damian asked from the other side of the table. His blue eyes were narrowed, but the tilt to his head was more interested than anything else.

"It's a tradition," Dan explained, "Something we do every time something big is happening. To make sure things don't go awry. We all gather around a fire outside at night and sing. Mostly about old legends and myths. Danny is the highest ranking, so he would do the singing, and he has to use magic to tell the story. It's a clan thing, usually, but sometimes it's larger groups. Soldiers who are about to fight together, for example."

"It's to bring good luck?" Prince Richard asked, sounding interested.

Sighing, Danny raised his and in a so-so motion. "More to ward off bad luck. Nocturn is fond of the arts, and it's supposed to gain his favour so he won't allow any bad luck to reach you. Another superstition, but a much more pleasant one." Turning to Tucker and Dan, he raised an eyebrow. "Did you even ask whether that would be alright? We are, technically, still guests. You remember that, right?"

Judging from the way that Dan winced they had not asked about making a fire in their garden. To his surprise, though, King Bruce himself spoke up almost immediately: "Please do." When Danny turned to him, the King was watching his son. "It's to make sure your marriage will be good, right? Please, go ahead."

"Ah. Right. I suppose we will." Still a bit confused that now they suddenly had plans after dinner, he turned to Princess Lian. After all, it wasn't every day Dan decided to basically accept someone as family like that. "In that case, you can join us for a song or two if you want." After a moment of hesitation, Danny turned to Prince Timothy and his brothers. "You can join us as well, of course. Don't feel obligated to, though."

But Prince Timothy took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, I assure you," he smirked softly, "we will be delighted to learn more about your stories."

Chapter Text

The dinner went pretty well, Tim thought.

Danny hadn't done anything more than mildly threaten and indiscreetly insult Sir Jordan, for one, despite the man glaring and all but challenging him all night. He had also accepted Tim's promise not to act as a spy for his friends in good faith, which Tim only felt slightly guilty about. Despite of his feelings he was, after all, still a Prince of Gotham first and foremost. He absolutely would be their spy. Just… maybe not for anything that wasn't immediately important.

So, yes, the state dinner, while emotionally taxing and heavily stressful, had gone about as well as it probably could have.

Which only left the Circle of Stars.

Tim had never heard of such a tradition before, and considering how much Danny seemed to think about superstitions as a whole Tim could at least understand why he wouldn't have mentioned anything before. Still, it seemed like an intriguing custom. Singing songs around a fire wasn't an uncommon sight, but doing so as a means to impress a divine entity and gain their protection? That was new.

Tim watched thoughtfully as the last sun rays hid themselves beneath the horizon, thinking about that old myth about Astri and Eose.

The Goddess of Day doesn't blink, unwilling to miss even the tiniest amount of knowledge she could get. But at night, her eyes are closed completely. It is her twin, the God of Night, who guards the world while she rests - even though a traitor once harmed his eyes and thus rendered him blind one night each month. While her wings of pure light and truth engulf the sky by day, it is his eye that shines throughout the night. He revels in the shadows and the darkness his cloak is made of, sitting on his throne as he holds watch. No matter how his sister may plead with him to let honesty prevail, Astri watches the crimes and deception taking place underneath his gaze with amusement and shields their progression from his sister within his cloak.

Or, well, something like that. Tim couldn't claim he'd been particularly attentive during that lesson either. Jason probably would have been a much better person to ask about something like this.

Still… His sister isn't very fond of the Ancients, and neither those under their protection. That's what Danny had said earlier, right? Tim wondered whether that was the reason they had come to Gotham for that negotiation. Because Gotham was cursed with perpetually cloudy weather and rarely ever got to see the light of Eose undisturbed? And perhaps that was also why they hadn't minded Tim having such a minor blessing. Since Astri seemed to be an important figure to the people of the Infinite Lands. Perhaps even one of the more favoured gods, if Tim wasn't mistaken.

Tim would have to find out more about the religion there, and soon. Preferably before meeting the first Ancient, even. But something gave Tim the feeling that neither Danny nor his brother were someone he should ask about this. They seemed to be about as interested in the prestige of their gods as Tim had always been in the myths about his own. And, well, considering how Thorn and Rain had acted towards the brothers respectively, Tim was also unsure about asking any of the guards. Tucker seemed to be a viable option, but the man had yet to speak to anyone without Danny or his brother present, and he seemed to prefer occasionally joining in on conversations rather than having them.

"My Lord," a voice pulled Tim out of his thoughts. When he turned he found the young man who'd guarded Danny's door by night standing there. He must have been just barely older than Dick, Tim thought, seeing him in the light of day for the first time. It was not for the first time that he wondered why his hair was so short, but he didn't think it was his place to ask.

Seeing that he had Tim's attention, the guard smiled at him. Tim was surprised. So far, the man had been rigid and watchful. Unnervingly quiet, too. Yet when he spoke up again, his smooth voice was amused and even a bit louder than Tim would have spoken at this distance: "We're about to start. I imagine you want to find a seat. Your betrothed has prepared some arrangements for you, though I imagine he would be happy if you joined him where he's sitting."

Looking over, Tim noticed that Danny had arranged for benches to be put around where the fire wasn't lit yet. Danny himself sat cross-legged on the floor, however, speaking softly and happily with his brother.

"Ah. Right. You have my thanks, sir…?"

"Ew." The man grimaced at Tim's words like he'd just eaten something sour. "No. Now, highness, the first rule you should know about Circle Time is there's no place for propriety here. We're exchanging stories and culture. That makes us all the same, for now. As for my name, I think you should know asking like that is rude back home. Since we're not back home, though, I'll bite. Name's Feather. I'm a warrior serving Lady Pandora, and I'm working with the Guard at the moment."

"Working with the Guard?" Tim repeated surprised, "You're not part of it?"

"Nope," Feather shrugged, "Like I said: I'm serving Lady Pandora. I'm not skilled enough to be her priest, but I did devote my services to her. She's the one who trained me, and she's the one who asked me to have an eye on your betrothed. For that mission, I've joined hands with the Guard." Tim was still wondering why the Ancient of War herself would order Danny's protection when Feather shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, not that I mind, really. Danny and I, we met when she was training him. We trained together for a bit, even. Good guy. I've always been glad to fight at his side."

"You've known each other for a long time, then?" Tim asked. If that was so, maybe he had just found the person he could ask more in depth about the Lands, then. If he was serving an Ancient directly he must know more about the religion, surely?

"Since before he formed the resistance," Feather smirked, a nostalgic expression taking over his face, "I was one of the first to join, now that I think about it. Actually, he might not have formed it yet when I joined… He was talking to Lady Pandora about it, I remember that. I volunteered immediately, but thinking back it might have only been an idea until I did. Huh…"

So a founding member of Danny's political movement, then. That must mean he would be a valuable ally to Tim. If he could manage to gain him as an ally, at least.

The guards on the night shift were usually quiet. Withdrawn. Where it had been an easy feat to get Rain strung up into a conversation, where he had noticed the man with red eyes and steel flowers braided into his hair mutter sarcastic comments under his breath, where he'd seen the woman with sharp nails and apparently even sharper tongue throw arrogant and derisive looks around any room she entered, where the soft-spoken woman would greet everyone with a crocked smile and politely hold the door for all of them, the two guards Tim had only seen at night were… impassive, almost. They never spoke, barely ever showed any emotion. This was the first conversation Tim was having with either of them - and the first time he'd gotten more of a reaction than a raised eyebrow or a sharp nod.

It was a surprise, to see the young, short-haired man this lively. Not an entirely unwelcome one, of course, but something Tim definitely had not expected. And if this was the difference of this man on and off duty, Tim feared he might have drawn too certain a line between work and his time off for Tim to get any brownie-points during his guard duty. But where else would Tim see him?

He'd try regardless, of course. But it certainly didn't make any of this easier.

At a lack of what to say, Tim smiled prettily. "That's a long time, indeed, then."

"Right," Feather breathed a laugh, "I always forget. Things have move so quickly lately that it feels both like an eternity and like it was only yesterday we started all of this." He turned slightly, a soft smile and something unreadable taking over the other's face. "I suppose he isn't a kid anymore at all, is he? How strange…"

"A kid?" Tim repeated, floored by the thought that anyone would ever dare address Danny like that. Not only because he was a ruler and addressing him that diminutive was rude, but also because Danny was just… Well. He was chaotic and emotional, sure, but he commanded respect. When he felt the need or want to, he was able to hold his subordinates under a tight leash. He could control them with little more than a small gesture, or a single noise from his tongue. He was respected, deeply and devotedly, and he was aware of it. He was using it where he needed to, though he didn't seem to take advantage of it. He didn't demand that respect, either, he was determined to earn it.

But Feather only laughed, brightly and light. "Like I said, I met him years ago. He was so small then. He was… Hm. Just nine? I think. Maybe eight still. And he wasn't a tall child, either. He only reached up to my hip. I used to carry him around after training sometimes. He never complained, but he was training with the teens and the adults. It was a lot for him. He insisted, though. Still, he was dead on his feet every time afterwards. It took a year for him to build up the stamina, and by then he'd hit a growth spurt. I couldn't pick him up at all anymore."

It was a weird thought. Danny, being that small. Tim remembered that Danny was about the same age as himself. When Tim was born, the war had already raged on. When it stopped, he'd been a child, scared and alone. Bruce had adopted him, given him a place. Danny must have been the same age then, too, he noted with a start. And from what Tim could piece together, he'd carved out a place for himself. In contrast to Tim, Danny had not been offered one.

"I was like that, too," Tim mused, softly. It felt like if he spoke to loudly something would break. Tim wasn't sure what, exactly, but he was scared of it. So he kept his voice low, his gaze directed at the colourful array of clouds above them. "When I started training under Bruce. He was… hurt. It was just after Jason had disappeared and was believed dead. He didn't take that well, but my parents had asked him to care for me while they fought for Gotham and Jason had told him they should train me. My parents were loving but they were demanding. Strickt. I always felt I had something to prove. Bruce wasn't in the right mind to be careful with me, and I refused to tell him when something was too much for me. So I just… kept going. I was also too stubborn to allow Dick to carry me to my room, of course, but he always made sure I arrived there and that I took care of any wounds I'd sustained. It's important to have someone like that, I think, when you're alone and hurt and have something to prove."

The smile on Feather's face was soft when Tim glanced back at him. "Your husband couldn't be luckier," he decided, voice just as soft as Tim's had been, "Truth be told, I was scared when I heard he'd go through with this whole arranged thing. He's so soft, he needs someone he can rely on. Someone who can understand him. I never would have imagined you would be so perfectly suited for each other. And yet here we are, and you both look at each other the same."

There was so much to unpack there. But the thing that stood out to Tim the most was the last thing Feather had said. "The same?"

Feather let out a scoff. "You haven't noticed? He looks at you like he wants to keep every part of you safe. I'm pretty sure he would start a war on your behalf if you wanted him to."

The thought alone was enough to make Tim nauseous. "I'd rather he didn't. Do you suppose I could ask him to not start a war instead?"

For some reason, that made Feather laugh again. Loudly. Some of the gathered people turned to look at them in surprise at the loud noise. "And that," the warrior grinned, "is exactly what I meant when I said he was lucky."

Tim was just about to ask what Feather meant with that, but was cut off by the other night guard. He'd been one of the people to turn around to them, making a show of rolling his eyes. "Lover," he called, "Stop bothering the High Lord-to-be. I told you to tell him we're about to start, not talk until your voice makes him dizzy."

"But dearest," Feather all but whined, "He's just so easy to talk to! Besides, aren't you a little curious? I mean, he's the first one to make our dearest, darlingest High Chief listen to Pandora's whispers. That's impressive don't you think?"

"I'm not as bad as you make me sound," Danny scowled from where the pair had gained his attention.

The guard that seemed to be romantically involved with Feather only raised an eyebrow. Completely ignoring Danny's complaint, Feather groaned and walked over to the other man, all but falling against him. Feather threw his legs across the other's in a way that had them intertangled comfortably, then grinned up at the other. All he got in response was a barely there smirk and a roll of the eye.

Slowly, Tim walked over to Danny, who watched the two of them with a warm smile playing around his lips. It was obvious from just that look that he cared for the two of them. And considering what Feather had just told Tim about their shared past, Tim couldn't even find it in himself to feel surprised by it.

As Tim sat next to Danny, he tried to find traces of the "kid" that Feather had talked about. Right now, in the soft glow of the fire Lord Dantrey had just started, with Feather and his lover beside him, Danny did look incredibly young. Painfully so, really. He was Tim's age, and it was easy to forget between all the rumours and preconceptions, between all the accomplishments and his power. But no matter how much confidence and grace he carried himself with, the fact of the matter was that Danny was only about as old as Tim.

Tim had first heard about the rebellion Danny had lead when he'd been twelve. His parents had fought in the war, he remembered, they'd been called to the front lines by the duty the title of duke held. Tim had hoped, then, but… They'd died anyways. Shortly before the war ended with a new ruler taking on the crown of the Intifinite Lands. When he'd first heard the name Phantom whispered in fear, Tim had still been too caught up in his own grief and in hoping his father would wake from his coma after all to care.

That'd been five years ago now. Tim had been thirteen by then. And Danny was only a year older than him.

Phantom, Danny, had been just fourteen.

And, sure, Bruce had been eight when his kingdom had been thrust onto his shoulders with his parents' assassination. But at least Bruce had always known it would happen eventually. He'd had Alfred at his side and Lucius to trust, and he'd started his training to be next in line by then.

Danny, though? He'd been thrust into an active war-zone by his family at eight years old, and then survived it by fighting his way right to the top. By now Danny had surely been educated in politics and the finer arts of noble society, but… He'd been fourteen years old and responsible for a nation. Probably without proper preparations and definitely without long established ministers or advisors to help him.

Tim had never thought about it like that. But Feather's words had somehow pulled all those things into focus: Danny had not been a power-hungry war lord. He'd just been a lost fourteen year old kid to whom Itiner and Novitate had both been exceptionally cruel. And while Tim refused to feel pity for his betrothed - because he knew Danny was stronger and deserved more respect than that - it did change his tale from a scary legend to a tragedy. Somehow he'd managed to change the ending, to write his own, but that didn't change how painful his life must have been.

Tim's gaze drifted towards where Lord Dantrey sat close to Jayson, Roy and Lian on his other side.

Danny had lost everything and gone through hell. But he'd fought tooth and nail to make it out of that dark place, to get a new family. Of course he'd protect them no matter what. That wasn't just a reason Tim could understand. No, in that moment he respected Danny's choices.

And maybe Tim had been collateral in it. He should be angry, probably. But even as collateral he'd been treated so kind, had been handled with so much care and so earnestly that he'd even stupidly fallen in love with Danny. So instead of anger all he could feel was a bright, vicious, painful hope to some day be part of that family Danny was guarding so fiercely.

And, well, who knew? He'd managed to worm his way into the royal family of Gotham of all places. So maybe he would be able to do the same with clan Phoenix after all. Maybe, he thought to himself as crudely carved wooden cups full of mead were passed around to everyone but Lian, it's not impossibly after all.

Something sparked inside Tim's heart as he watched Danny stand and face the people who'd gathered in a half-circle around the fire. Well. He'd always liked a challenge. Perhaps he would never be the first priority, but he could probably make himself a priority.

It's what you were trained for, his mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, You were born to manipulate people into liking you.

But I learned that I deserved to be liked, he told his mother's ghost still lingering inside his head, I learned that I am worth more than what I can people to trick into thinking.

Kon had been right: He was acting nothing like himself. Because he was Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, Duke of Drake and third Prince of Gotham. Even if he hadn't fought in the war, he was still one of the generals of the Robin Army, trained by the Dark Knight himself. Tim was smart and capable and fought for what he wanted. He was not a frail flower to protect and not a pretty bird to throw in a gilded cage.

Tim was more than he was raised to be. He had proved that to the grubby nobles of Gotham and to himself over and over and over again. He was useful and resourceful.

Maybe Danny didn't deserve to be manipulated into liking Tim. However, that just meant he had to find another way. Something different to what he had been taught by his mother.

Change of plans, he decided, and had no idea how his thoughts had even ended up here. He would not entice Danny. He would impress him, enough so that the kind, gentle, soft-hearted man behind that confident smirk and those insincere threats would never look away from him again.

It was an impossible task. But then, doing the impossible was what the royal family of Gotham was known for, was it not?

Chapter Text

"Aliquando, rex temeratus erat," Danny began, his voice soft yet carrying his half sung-half spoken words through the air clearly, "per celestem. Plebs rexquam a patria fugere, e mari velificarent, refugii vestigaverint. Orarent: Itiner adiutos! Quondam, Itiner audiverit."¹

Tim was still too stunned by the realisation that this song was starting in the holy language of all things to realise there had been no music accompanying Danny's words, right until Feather and his lover started humming right next to him. Actually, all the Children of the Lands were humming, a quick melody that reminded Tim more of the songs he'd heard on the docks in Narrows - the costal town Duke hailed from - than what Danny's words had sounded like.

Danny, too, changed his rhythm to the one his people were humming, continuing in the modern language: "Our ancestors begged out on the sea,"

Raising his hands, Danny let blue light travel from his hands and disperse into fog around them. Small snowflakes formed from it, arranging themselves like a stormy sea and a small, fragile looking boat fighting desperately against the tides.

"With saltwater lunges and nowhere to flee.
Itiner they called and said they were wrong,
but the goddess long knew this old song.
She ignored all their pleas and their cries,
For her travels had long made her wise."

As Danny took a couple of steps, swaying to the humming around him, his magic shifted. A pile of snow, almost like a shore, formed right under his feet. The miniature ship grew in size and Tim watched with a gasp as it collided with the shore, breaking apart all around Danny.

"So as Cael's waves kept raging high,
They were sure their end must be nigh.
Yet a shoreline broke their fall, saved them all.
They met a stranger there who'd heard their call,
He made a promise to do repairs.
If his kindness would be met by theirs."

As he sang, Danny formed an ice sculpture. When he turned around to present the cloaked figure, Tim absently noted that Danny's eyes were glowing a bright blue rather than his usual green. But Danny soon continued the song, distracting Tim from that thought again.

"The disgraced king still held on to his pride,
And said they weren't on the gods' good side.
The help would have been an act oh so kind,
But if he'd accept the stranger might find
Himself caught in the anger meant for them,
And he could not accept the offer then."

The scene kept moving and Tim got to watch as the cloaked figure only raised their hand to hide a silent laugh before walking toward the wrecked ship and raising his hands. Hundreds of tiny snowflakes flew through the air, like magic flowing from the stature's hands. The wrecked ship repaired itself under the attention of the figure.

"The stranger only laughed and then he said:
I don't think that's something I'd have to dread.
See, I've been on this island all alone,
And I want to leave here just like you.
So if I see these repairs all through,
I only ask you to be so kind
And provide me this peace of mind.
The king agreed, would bring him home."

The melody flowing through the air shifted suddenly. It became much quicker, the notes sounding deeper and taking on something almost ominous. At the same time, Danny made the human figure with its cloak grow until it stood much taller than even the ship.

"And the stranger smiled and yelled:
Mother-" Tim flinched as all the Children of the Lands joined Danny to sing this word, their voices loud and insisting as their humming was replaced by stomping and clapping "-listen to me now!
Abandon the doubts which you held.
Did you not hear it in this vow?
These people have honour and fear.
Mother, your help is needed here!"

Another figure formed from the snow, a beautiful woman, draped elegant travel clothes and with hair braided up, flowers and trinkets hanging all around her. Her eyes glowed a bright, icy blue, the same as Danny's were right now. More importantly, though, Tim recognised her: Itiner, the Goddess of the Path.

"My child I hear you loud and clear,
is what the goddess answered him,
but they are banished as I fear:
It is not up to my own whim.
But mother, the cloaked man denied,
They do not deserve this cruel fate!
Is there nothing we could provide?
We can't leave them here in this state."

Itiner reached out to the cloaked man, caressing his hooded head and smiling kindly but sadly. The cloaked man's shoulders slumped before he squared them and turned around to the watching audience. He raised a hand, as if offering Tim to take it.

"I now know how I can help you:
I'll take you to my sibling's home,
Come with me mortal king and crew,
To where magic and monsters roam.
You will be in danger but free,
The gods can never reach you there.
It's how I can answer your plea.
I promise we will treat you fair."

Danny turned around and took the offered hand. Pressing his forehead against the snow construction, he took a deep breath and smiled. It looked relieved, Tim noticed. Like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As though Danny was the king in this story and had finally, after what must have felt like forever, been offered a home, a way out for his people.

"Abandoned by gods with nothing
To his name that he could still loose
He fell to his knees, this proud king.
Sojourn understood what he'd choose,
And brought him to his new home land,
Brought him beyond the cursed white sand.
It was there they found their first peace.
To this day our home lands are these."

Danny stood back up to his full hight, standing tall for a moment before turning just with the beat. As he did, he waved his hand and dispelled the entire scenery once again. When he raised his hands, a green mist gathered between his fingertips, flowing through the air to form a ball between his palms. As Danny begun to softly move the glowing ball of green mist from side to side, Tim noticed with a start that the mist was originating from Danny's people. Was that magic? Physical magic that Danny was somehow syphoning from the Children of the Lands rather than the air, like he'd explained last week?

"Now the king's long dead, looks down at these embers,
But remains as long as someone remembers.
He's sorted up in the sky as a star,
Protects us when we're close or when we're far.
Sojourn still travels and if he must or can.
Guides the abandoned souls to join our clan.
The Ancients shield us from all we could fear.
And the gods can not ever reach us here."

As the last note lingered in the air, Danny threw the ball of magic up into the air. It rained down around them like glowing, green glitter and coated the entire place in a soft glow. When Tim looked down at his hands, he noticed he, too, had started to faintly glow. Or, no, not Tim. The magic that had rained down on him, that was coating his skin in a thin layer now. It only lingered for a second or two before it dissolved, though he still felt the flames were burning brighter than before and that the grass was greener. Still, that moment - as strange and, yes, also unnerving as it had been - had Tim feeling incredibly important and insignificant at the same time. Like he was part of this, of something bigger that this circle stood for - and as though his life was nothing more than the blink of an eye that would barely matter once everything was said and done. It was a nice feeling, calming. But it was also strange and uncomfortable.

The founding myth of the Infinite Lands, for what else could it possibly have been, was not what Tim would have expected either. A lot less fighting and a lot more being saved. Neither Danny nor Lord Dantrey or Sir Tucker or any of the guards had acted revering towards the gods so far. They'd been borderline blasphemous at best, downright disrespectful every other time. So Tim really hadn't expected the founding myth to portray an Ancient as their saviour, nor the other Ancients as protective of the Children of the Lands. Then again, after what Danny had told him about blessings and what he'd implied about the cultural significance of the Ancients' approval back in the gardens, perhaps he should have expected it.

Still deeply in thought, Tim almost didn't notice how Roy flinched. What- Oh. Danny had turned around to face him. Or rather his daughter. And Lian, the sweet child, only smiled and looked up at Danny curiously.

"Now," Danny smirked, "I think I promised to sing with you, didn't I, Princess?" Lian nodded excitedly, and Danny nodded back seriously. "Then that's what we shall do. And as it happens, I have just the song in mind. Now, all you have to do is…"

Astonished, Tim watched as the man who had refused to bow so much as his head to the entirety of the reigning royalty of the Juistria League went down on his knees in front of Roy, a mere prince, just so he could whisper into a child's ear. For a moment, it felt as though Tim could barely breathe. Then, his insides felt all comfortably warm and his heart felt so full he feared it might burst.

Danny would, if nothing else, be a wonderful father. It wasn't something Tim had allowed himself to think of much, how Danny and he would become parents soon. But right now, seeing him smile at the little princess and wink at her just to make her giggle all adorably like that, he couldn't help but to think that their children would be incredibly blessed.

Lian, who nodded enthusiastically at something Danny had asked her under his breath, didn't hesitate to take the man's hand and join him in front of the fire. Danny sat down with his legs crossed, waited for her to make herself comfortable too and then started to clap a short and fast melody. Next to Tim Feather, who was still sitting in his lover's lap like that was the most normal and only place for him to be, lit up as he recognised the melody. Grinning, he immediately clasped his hands together and put them up to his lips. A whistling sound, almost like a flute, rang through the air. His lover meanwhile started to hum, and Sir Tucker repeated the melody just slightly deeper in a sort of canon.

As more and more sounds filled the air, it once again surprised Tim how they were able to make music with nothing but their voices and bodies. This melody was a bit more complex than the one earlier, and more lively as well, but none the less pretty for it.

Danny soon ceased his own clapping and opened up his palms so that blue magic could waft between his fingers once more. When he opened his mouth again to sing, he wore one of the softest looks Tim had seen on him yet.

"Now, little warrior,
You're perfect as you are.
Your future is our light:
You make the world more bright.
We'll raise you to be strong,
So just sing this old song
If you're scared or alone.
You will make it back home."

Danny smiled at Lian, almost encouragingly. As he did, he lifted his hands the light he'd gathered in them surrounded the young girl, forming a phoenix that flew around her. She giggled at it, reached out to the incorporeal being and as she did, Danny twitched his finger, making the animal land on her outstretched forearm. She all but glowed herself with the way she smiled at Danny, and Danny smiled back, then gave her a soft nod.

"I will not be scared," Lian sang along proudly,
"I know I'm prepared.
I know how to run,
'till the threat is done.
Until I'm back safe.
I know I'll be brave!"

"Very good! You remembered." Danny praised her, grinning again before he continued with his part: "Dear little warrior,
I'll find where you are.
The phoenix is watching out.
Can't you hear the panther's sound?
Please know I'll follow through,
Believe I'll always protect you.
My dear child, I won't be long.
So just remember our song."

The phoenix jumped off Lian's arm and transformed into a panther, which cuddled up to her. Tim could almost hear the comforting purr it would have released if it was a real animal just from the body language alone.

This time, Lian did not need any encouragement. She was all too happy to sing her part again. Meanwhile, Tim had a revelation. Because this? This song that Danny was teaching Lian? It wasn't just a song for children. It wasn't just to teach them what to do when they were in danger. It was a song in ghost speak. Or at least Danny was making it out to be one.

The phoenix is watching out. Did that mean something along the lines of I'll protect you then? And the panther's sound. From Danny's depictions it seemed to be purring that was referred to. What could that mean? Please know I'll follow through, the song continued. Some kind of promise, perchance? And judging by what the rest of the verse was about… a promise of protection? No. A promise to come and help? Backup, Tim thought. That had to be it. A promise of backup coming.

"Sweet little warrior,
Your clan is what we are.
It's in us you can trust,
We will do what we must.
Just watch out for the crow,
Don't come out lest you know.
It is a crafty thing,
Might have heard you sing."

The crow, Tim figures, must be something bad. At least judging by how Danny made it circle above Lian, never touching her, never coming near her. Especially when the phoenix and the panther both materialise from Lian's shadow again, only to pounce on it, tearing it down in a way that made its feathers fly through the air.

Or, well. In a way where Danny made its feathers fly through the air.

Danny's illusions were so… corporal. For a moment every now and again Tim forgot that it was just Danny making magic mist move through the air. A lively, three dimensional shadow theatre. It was Danny, in the end, every twitch and every movement. But it… felt like more than that.

Was it the magic? Or was Danny just that good with it?

It should have been frightening, Tim thought. Danny summoning that much magic and manipulating it that easily and steadily. Tim had never seen anything like it, and he'd worked with the best mages on the southern side of the continent repeatedly. A few weeks ago, he was sure, it would have frightened him. Very much so. But now all he could feel was… adoration. Wonder. Marvel. He felt at ease, steady, happy to sit here and experience a new kind of community and a form of beauty he never knew existed.

Was it the dust of magic earlier? He felt like it had made him feel more connected to what was happening around him. Then again, it could have been just because it was Danny. Sweet, careful, kind Danny who sat in front of a fire and carefully brought animals to life with his magic so that Lian could learn a language that was, as far as Tim understood, forbidden to teach to outsiders. Probably just because he considered her family, as he'd made clear earlier that day.

And it was Danny in that moment, Tim realised, not the High Chief, not even Phantom. Just plain Danny. Here, in midst his clan and those he trusted gathered for a jovial tradition of his home land, he could be himself.

"There's no place for propriety here," Feather had told Tim earlier, "We're exchanging stories and culture. That makes us all the same, for now." The true impact of those words only dawned on Tim now. As he listened to Danny sing another song with the young princess - one that seemed to be both about positive affirmation for children and the traveling ancestors of the first song - Tim realised that this tradition was based on some very simple yet important concepts: Equality, unity and remembrance.

Danny might be the one singing and doing the magic as the highest person here. But it didn't matter that he was High Chief. He could have also been the clan head or simply just the one taking charge for the moment. He didn't seem to pick the songs himself. Instead, when he started a song, he seemed to wait for the others to agree by joining him. On the third song - a sweet one about how children were the most precious and important thing to any clan - two of the guards Tim didn't have names for didn't join. Danny looked at them, waited some more, and when they still didn't join he gave a questioning look to the ones who had. Only when all of them had nodded did he begin to sing.

The music was made together, through their voices or their bodies, or even by stamping on the ground. Tim's first thought had been that it was because this Circle of Stars had to be replicable on the road. But now that he thought about it, it also made everyone a part of it. Whoever wanted to be, at least. They created art together. They were enjoying it, laughing, smiling, all of it, together.

The contents, as Danny had said at dinner, were legends and old stories. Things to be passed down through generations. The kind of things, really, that Tim would have expected an elderly man telling to his grandchildren in front of the hearth at evening before bedtime. Or a traveler telling his companions. The point, however, seemed to be to tell the child you're cared for and you're important, and even you don't have to change. And that in as many different ways as was possible, it would seem.

It was the fifth song when Lian started to yawn. Smiling, Danny caressed her head. "Tired, little princess?" She glared at him. Viciously But he only laughed. "I see you're not, then," he indulged her, "But even so, I fear it is late. Tomorrow is an important day for me and for my betrothed… Would you please go to bed? I want to share as much of it as possible with you. How about that?"

Lian scrunched up her face in thought. It was utterly adorable. Then she hummed and leaned in to whisper something into Danny's ear. Danny immediately leaned forward, allowing her to whisper more comfortably. Then, he nodded seriously. Placing his fist against his heart, he solemnly nodded to her. "On my honour, Princess, I promise. Whenever you wish to visit, you will be welcome. And whenever you do, we can ask me to sing together again." Then, he raised a finger and looked her directly into the eyes. "But! Only, and I mean only if you listen to your father and ask him beforehand."

"Why?" Lian asked, sounding confused and just the tiniest bit whiny, "What does Daddy have to do with it?"

"We might be clan," Danny explained patiently, "We might even be family. But, Princess, your father is your parent. He knows you best, and he knows best how to protect you. You're very lucky to have such a nice father, little one, and he loves you so very dearly. He wants you to be the happiest and safest you can be. Let him make sure you are. Okay?"

When Tim glanced over to him, he could see Roy's eyes glistening with tears. Lian, on the other hand, tilted her head consideringly. "You're right," she finally decided, "Daddy is the bestest father in the world. He's really nice. And he's super strong, you know! He always makes sure all the bad men go away for ever and ever."

Tim was pretty sure he could hear Roy choke on a sob at that. Danny nodded seriously. "Right. And you're also really strong, right? Since you're his daughter?"

"Mh-hm. I try to be."

"Then you gotta help him keep the bad men away, yeah?" Danny got another nod from Lian at that. "And to do that, you have to listen to him. And when he tells you you can't come visit, then you have to wait until it's safe, alright?"

"Okay…" The agreement wasn't very enthusiastic, but Tim was impressed with Danny for managing to convince the stubborn princess anyways.

"Can you promise?" He held his hand out to Lian, pinky finger stretched out. Lian grinned as she clasped her own against it and shook it. Tim was just surprised that pinky swears were apparently a thing even in the Infinite Lands. "Thank you. Now, will you go to your father so the two of you can go to bed?"

Instead of answering, Lian decided to stand up and run over to Roy, who immediately hugged her impossibly tight. "Daddy, we can go sleep now," she declared, "I've just decided. Even though I'm not tired yet."

Chapter Text

"I'm out of ideas," Danny confessed after a while. They'd sung all their usuals by now. They'd done the one about the War of Gods, the one about the Nymph of the Sea, the one about the River Death, the one about the Phoenix and the Dragon, and even the one about the sarcophagus of foreversleep. The one about the Ring of Rage, too. And the one about Pandora's Box.

It was Feather - because of course it was Feather - who smirked and called out: "Oh, I have an idea."

Danny immediately knew he could not allow Feather to speak any further. Unfortunately, he could also see Dan was about to speak up. Trapped between the Labyrinth and the Cursed Lands, Danny gestured for Feather to continue.

"Since you are about to marry the lovely prince over here-" Oh no. "-I think he should really know more about you-" Oh no "-so I think we just have to sing The Crown's Sigh."

Damnit! He should've asked Dan to speak.

Looking at Feather in a way that he hoped showed just how throughly betrayed Danny has been, he smiled. "Of course! Nice idea. Why don't you take charge for that one?"

Dramatically, Feather pressed a hand to his chest. "Me? But, my dear, beloved, honoured-"

"You can stop now," Danny deadpanned, not at all impressed with his traitor of a friend.

"- admired, exalted High Chief! How could I ever take away this important, honourable-"

"I will not," Danny hissed, "sing The Crown's Sigh about myself. So since you decided we should sing this song out of all the ones we could have possibly sung, you get to be the one to sing it. Yourself."

"Whatever do you mean?" Feather gasped, leaning back into Silk. "Why, I cannot fathom why you would-"

"Friend," Danny interrupted him once again, because he would also not listen to Feather's dramatics and pretences of innocence. "You might be part of my fright. And still: When Sojourn gets lost."

"I'll do it!" Dan of course jumped up and walked into the circle, all too happy to embarrass Danny. As any brother should, really, but still! Can't he get a bit of loyalty here?

Nodding stiffly, Danny turned and vacated his place as storyteller to sit down next to his betrothed again. He took a long, deep swallow of his bark cone. They'd brought out the mead only after the princess had gone to bed today, of course, but it was still tradition for everyone to have one. Those who didn't want to drink had theirs filled with water or juice, which also included Danny. His betrothed too, as he'd learned, and Rain. He wasn't sure about anyone else tonight, though he was sure they knew how to keep themselves in check if they had chosen to drink alcohol.

"My dear?" the prince's voice interrupted Danny's thoughts, "What does that mean? If you don't mind me asking…"

"Hm?" What had he said, again? "Ah. Well, Sojourn never gets lost as the Ancient of Travel. So it basically means that something is impossible, I suppose? It will never happen, eventually."

But his betrothed shook his head. "No, I mean… The song? You seemed very unhappy with the choice, and I don't understand why you would be. Or what reason you could have to be so opposed to singing it yourself?"

Ah. Right. He wouldn't know. Sighing deeply, Danny took another swing from his drink. "Well, it's a tradition. There's always a Crown's Sigh, and the song changes with every new High Chief. It's… meant to make sure the High Chief isn't too alienated to the common folk, really. A sort of promise that they can still talk to them - and about them - as they have before the coronation. That their new position doesn't make them any less human, maybe? So I, as High Chief, do not get to say no when someone asks me whether they can sing it. Or, well, I could. But it'd be a breach of trust? It's…"

"The Crown's Sigh is a song about the High Chief's flaws," Feather grinned, "and it's written by someone within their fright. Your future husband had his written by Chief Ember - and she was a bit annoyed with him when she did, so…"

Sighing, Danny nodded. "Yes, that. It's not meant to embarrass me, really. Just… to remind the people I'm not perfect either. But still, singing it myself is…" When he pulled a face, Feather snickered again, hiding his face in Silk's chest as if that would do anything to muffle the sound.

"That would explain why your brother was so eager to sing it, then," Danny's heart nodded, a wry grin on his lips, "Siblings."

"Yes," Danny ruefully agreed, though he had to laugh himself now, "and any other fright, apparently."

Feather, for his part, looked completely unrepentant. "It's an important piece of our culture," he justified.

Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back. Then, he looked to where Dan was watching them with an unreadable expression and a soft gaze full of love. "So?" he asked, not sure how to react to that, "Are you going to sing or not?"

"Oh, I plan to," Dan grinned, his gaze shifting into something more mischievous. Danny tried not to roll his eyes at the way his brother was all but bouncing in glee at the prospect, always eager for a chance to sing this particular song. Danny had no idea just why Dan loved it so much - Dan wouldn't tell him - but he knew it went beyond just doing his brotherly duty of bringing up Danny's more embarrassing moments.

Seeing how happy Dan was, how interested his dear betrothed was, and how Feather was still hiding chuckles in Silk's tunic and gained the most besotted look from his lover for it… Well. He would not admit it aloud, never, but maybe it was a good idea to sing this together. It made the most important people to Danny happy, after all, and there was very little he wouldn't do or endure for that.

Clapping along with the rest of them, Danny watched as Dan winked at him before pulling some of the flames from the bonfire. He did a show of forming them into a shape that resembled Danny at a younger age, and Danny couldn't help but wonder whether this was how Dan always saw him. That confident and kind, with such a gentle look in his face. He hoped it was.

"We all know the crown that's made of flames,
Worn by many faces with even more names.
And beneath it stands proud and tall the High Chief,
Who has surely earned the right to wear this wreath.
Yet even so we can all hear its deep sigh.
And with this High Chief there is no wondering why."

Danny watched as Dan had the fire-Danny move into a scene he remembered all too well. Early in the war, when Dan had yet to earn the trust of anyone outside the family.

"His name is Phantom, the one who unites,
the Ancients, the people, even the sprites.
And just when you marvel at all that he's done
He makes you wonder how his battles were won.

"I once saw him fight a dragon all on his own.
No doubt a feat of strength that had yet to be shown.
I remember standing there frozen with awe,
I remember questioning just what I saw.
But on his way down, and what a disgrace,
He tripped on a claw, fell right on his face!"

Dan, of course, took great delight in making fire-Danny face plant. Danny knew because he had not made that face! Probably. It'd been embarrassing, sure, but he'd still fallen with a lot less flailing and a lot more grace. Maybe.

"His name is Phantom, the one who unites,
the Ancients, the people, even the sprites.
And just when you marvel at all that he's done
He makes you wonder how his battles were won.

Danny heard his betrothed gasp when the bonfire shaped a giant serpent, coiling around behind Dan and giving a silent hiss. The fire-Danny, on the other hand, grew a bit older and skated through the air with his sword in the hand.

"A duel with a Leviathan cannot be won,
And yet it's something that High Chief Phantom has done:
With a plan that's never been tried before
Phantom made sure the serpent was no more.
He fought with skates upon a frozen lake,
But afterwards he did not see the stake…"

Dan held steady eye contact with Danny as he raised a hand, making a stake of smoke appear right before fire-Danny hand tripping him over it, just as the serpent died. Fire-Danny fell and broke the entire thing. Which was strange, because Danny knew for a fact that Dan had not been around to witness that. So why was this so accurate? Who snitched?

"His name is Phantom, the one who unites,
the Ancients, the people, even the sprites.
And just when you marvel at all that he's done
He makes you wonder how his battles were won.

"And in all our history he is the most blessed,
His relationship to the Ancients is the best.
He's even privy to Clockwork's every whim,
And the Infi-Map was entrusted to him."

It looked beautiful how fire-Danny was surrounded by seven dragons and how he reached out to take the mystical item from one of them. Unfortunately for Danny, he remembered very vividly what had happened next. Because there'd been one quest he'd managed to behave so absurdly idiotic that he couldn't even be mad at Ember for adding it to the song.

"He went to save us no matter the cost.
But he read the map wrong - ended up lost!"

Yep, there it was.

Sighing, Danny leaned back and blended out the rest of the song. He knew all those stories anyways, he'd lived them after all. He'd also seen Dan recreate the scenes multiple times throughout the last year, so he didn't have to pay too much attention to them, either. What he hadn't seen before, however, was his betrothed's reactions.

Out of the corner of his eye, hiding his interest behind his cup, Danny watched the Gothamite. He looked relaxed, fortunately. And utterly enchanted with Dan's fire-play.

Something loosened inside of Danny's chest at the sight and made it all the more easy to breathe. He'd been a bit worried, actually, to have the prince join the Circle. He knew that magic was… discouraged here, especially when it came from the Lands. He couldn't have had much positive exposure to it, Danny figured, and while Tuck had been right about this being a good opportunity to introduce the more beautiful sides of magic to him… Well. Danny had worried it might have been too much at once.

His betrothed did not look uncomfortable at all, though. Instead, he gasped when Dan did something that surprised him, laughed along with the song and watched with rapt attention.

He was beautiful like that. His head was tilted just the slightest bit, and his smile formed dimples. The laugh shook his entire body with the way he sat, unbridled and joyful. Rather than the straight posture Danny had come to know from the other, his betrothed was leaning forward with relaxed shoulders and a casual posture now. Somehow, though, he still managed to be the picture of elegance.

The light reflected from his eyes. The sky blue contrasted with the orange of the fire, and Danny felt as though if Nocturn ever wanted to spin a dream Danny had no desire to ever escape from this must be what it would start like. Bright blue eyes, reflecting orange light and sparkling with interest and mirth, surrounded by dark lashes and placed in one of the most beautiful faces Danny had ever seen.

Somehow, Danny managed to get so lost in watching his heart that he didn't even notice the song end. Until his betrothed turned to him with an amused smile, that was, and noted: "You're quite prone to injury as soon as you've done your duty, aren't you?"

Rubbing his neck in embarrassment, Danny nodded. "I… have always been a bit clumsy, I guess," he admitted sheepishly, "Though I've gotten better at working around it. I'd like to think I have, at least. But, uh, with the relief once I'm done with a fight or something, I guess I tend to be… less careful."

To his surprise, his betrothed nodded. "I know what that's like. When it's just me and my family and I can be more relaxed, I have been known to become quite a lot more chaotic. I know to hide it public, my mother ensured that, but I suppose once your guard is lowered so is your spacial awareness."

Before Danny could answer to that, unfortunately, Dan called out: "Brother! I want to sing Crimson Crest."

Yeah, that was about what Danny had expected when he'd seen Dan open his mouth before. Wincing, Danny hesitantly called back: "That's a game for children that just started training…"

"So?" Dan pouted, and there was no other way to describe the expression no matter how much Danny's brother denied it every time, "It's still fun. Come on, it's my favourite and we haven't done it in ages!"

That wasn't really true, they did that semi-regularly. But still… Danny couldn't help but glance at his betrothed. Even if he'd handled all the magic fine so far, that one would be a bit much. The Southerners already saw them as fight-happy barbarians, after all. And Danny didn't want to scare this wonderful man off, not when the prince already deserved so much better than him.

But Prince Timothy, the absolutely perfect human that he was, smiled at Danny. "You don't have to deny him for my sake. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it."

"It's… It's a game, essentially." Danny still cautioned, "For training. We would, uh… Dan and I would fight each other with magic while we sing and brawl while we don't. It's meant to help children with controlling their breathing during fights, and teach them to cast magic without relying on spells. All the children back home play it. It's harmless, really. The thing is just, with Dan and me being adults and trained warriors at that it can be… a lot."

The prince hummed, considering first Danny then Dan carefully. "I trust you," he decided, "Besides, I'm here not only because I'll soon be part of your clan but also to learn more about your culture and your stories, right?" When he waited for an answer, Danny nodded. His betrothed wanted to learn, because he was perfect and open-minded like that. Had he wanted to be sure Danny knew as much? Danny's answer seemed to have been right, at least, seeing as how the prince smiled kindly at him before continuing: "Then, if it doesn't make you uncomfortable, I should like to see."

"And you are sure?" Danny asked, "Like I said, our fights can be lot and I don't want to overwhelm you."

"I don't, either," Dan chimed in, "I didn't even think about that… We don't have to, if it's too much. We can sing it another time. I don't mind."

Danny knew that Dan would absolutely mind, but he would not complain about it. He would understand, at least. And Danny felt a swell of pride at that thought. Dan had come so far these last few years. He hoped the look he send his brother told Dan as much.

His betrothed, too, seemed to notice how much this meant to Dan. Because his smile only deepened as he said: "I'm certain. Thank you for your kind consideration, though, my dear, my future-brother-in-law."

Danny cast his gaze over to where Prince Jayson was leaning back on one of the benches, empty except for the Gothamite now that the Star royalty had left. The older prince raised an eyebrow but smirked as he gave half a shrug and a soft yet sure nod. Looking back at his heart, Danny considered him once more. He didn't look unsure of his decision…

"Well, since you're sure…"

Dan cheered as Danny stood again. As he walked over to his brother, Danny locked eyes with Rain and Hyacinth one after the other. "Would you…?"

The two of them nodded, also standing up and taking their positions on the opposite side to each other. They both raised their hands, casting a protective barrier around Danny and his brother. Once they were done, Danny reached out to test it. It wasn't as strong as he would have liked, but… Well. It was good, it should hold.

Jason watched with bated breath as Phantom and Dan got ready. He'd fought against Dan before, but Jason knew that he hadn't been much of a challenge. If Dan hadn't decided that he'd violated the rules there was no way Jason would have ever been considered the winner of anything. Seeing him fight, and then against Phantom of all people, was bound to be something entirely different.

Jason wasn't sure how to take Phantom asking his permission before agreeing, though. Timmy's permission, fine. The boy would be his husband in less than a day - and holy shit it was already almost the wedding, what the fuck - but Jason wasn't anyone special to him. Adjacent to important by proximity to Timmy at best. So being asked for permission had left Jason a little wrong-footed.

He still felt strange after seeing how gentle the otherwise cold and harsh bastard had been with Lian, too. Timmy had insisted before that Phantom didn't want to be like that and, sure, Phantom wasn't actually cruel or anything. Still, that was more along the likes of what Jason would have expected from Dan rather than Phantom, considering how much kinder the shadowborn brother usually was.

Then again, it fit with what Roy had said about how Phantom was acting with Lian. And Roy was the most doting father Jason had ever seen, so if he said Phantom was good with her Jason already knew it must be true. It was just that seeing it had been surprising.

"A reminder for those of us who know this game, and a quick explanation for those of us who don't," Phantom called out from within his cylindrical barrier. Jason rolled his eyes. Yeah, well, wonder who he could mean with that.

"My brother and I will fight each other through the entire song," Phantom repeated his earlier words, "We are only allowed to cast magic while we sing, and we are only allowed to touch each other while we don't. Drawing a weapon is prohibited. Blessings count as magic. Should either of us break any of these rules, he has lost and the song will end. If one of us sings off-key or wrong, he will have lost but the battle will be finished. The song goes on until one of us looses. Usually, the first one to draw blood is the winner. Since my brother is sworn to me by blood-oath and can not draw blood, we will change that: The first person whose back touches the ground looses."

When nobody said anything, Phantom nodded and got back into position. Then, the four remaining guards and Sir Tucker stood. The warriors took out daggers while Sir Tucker cupped his hands like the other guard had done earlier. While the guards all drew their daggers just the slightest bit from their sheaths, Sir Tucker was the first one to make a noise, whistling a fast rhythm in some deep notes. The others reacted by stomping their feet. Three stomps, then they paused for one note that Sir Tucker didn't, and harshly, loudly slammed the daggers back into the sheaths. Then they repeated it again.

"Warriors beneath her crimson crest," both Phantom and Dan sang as they gathered magic into their hands, eyeing each other,
"Fight with her values close to the chest!
Follow her Path through peace and through wars,
Your heart is yours, your life Pandora’s."

Right on the last word, Phantom shoved his hands up. A sharp spike of ice rose right where Dan had stood not a second earlier. At the same time, a blood red flame shot at Phantom, who barely dodged by falling into a crouch.

"One," all the warriors intoned together, as though nothing had happened.

"A brave heart is not born for lack of fear,
It means putting first why we’re standing here.
If someone forgets the reason we fight,
Tell them it’s for family, clan and fright.
We’re the civilians’ sword and their shield,
And that’s the reason why we can not yield."

The flames stopped engulfing the barrier as soon as the last word had been sung, clearing the vision. Phantom had somehow managed to create three different ice shields, all of which shattered once the flames stopped licking at them. The gap between the two brothers was breached before Jason had even managed to process the shift, and Dan had managed to grapple Phantom's arm. Phantom did something that looked like a jump but twisted Dan's arm in a way that meant he had to let go. While Dan tried to punch Phantom, the High Chief easily twisted out of the way as thought he was dancing. He himself was kicking at Dan, but the taller brother had impeccable footwork. He didn't walk even one step, but he still managed to evade all those kicks.

"Two," sounded through the air, making both of them jump away from the other.

"Pandora hates all fights that are senseless." A blast of wind was barely stopped by a wall of fire.
"She’d rather we fight for the defenceless." Rocks started to levitate and became projectiles.
"What we seek is not fame or infamy," A pillar of snow stopped the rocks.
"Just safety for our clan and family." Had Phantom just cut himself on one of the rocks?
"We dare not fight for a selfish reason," Where the fuck did that spear come from? Was that made out of blood?!
"But raise our sword for what we believe in." Dan rolled and twisted out of the way of not only the spear but also two falling chucks of ice.

The rapid-fire magic was substituted through a series of air kicks from Phantom, which were blocked by Dan's arms but strong enough to push the other man back two steps. He did manage to get hold of Phantom's leg, though, and used that to push back. Phantom overbalanced, but twisted in the air so he landed on his hands and could cartwheel kick Dan's chin. The larger man fell against the barrier and used it to push away and bring some distance between them. Phantom charged and-

"Three"

"You may hate, fight, throw insults or brawl," For a second, the two only watched each other wearily.
"Since you can’t get along with them all." Vines rose from the earth where Phantom stood.
"But once the fight begins ignore that nonsense!" Phantom didn't even break eye contact as he side stepped each one of them.
"We’re one and the same so fight with conscience:" Suddenly, a pit opened up beneath Dan.
"Throw your contempt and dif’rences aside;" Dozens of silky strings feathered Dan's fall and pushed him back up.
"Loyalty and trust should be our one guide." A blood red arrow stuck Dan while he was still airborne.

As soon as he landed, Dan kicked for Phantom. Once again, the smaller one twisted beneath Dan's leg and behind him. He managed to swipe a leg out from under Dan, but Dan hooked his leg into Phantom's so that both of them fell. They each rolled up and away from each other. Dan grabbed for Phantom, but Phantom was quicker once again.

"Four"

They didn't put any distance between each other this time. "A brave heart is not born for lack of fear,
It means putting first why we’re standing here." Phantom bit at his own finger, but Dan used a blast of wind to push the hand away.
"If someone forgets the reason we fight," When Phantom raised his hand there was a cut there, probably from a nail.
"Tell them it’s for family, clan and fright." The blood gathered slowly in his hand and formed a sword.
"We’re the civilians’ sword and their shield," Dan was quicker creating a shield of fire and managed to defend the blow.
"And that’s the reason why we can not yield." The fire of the shield grew and Phantom had to jump back, but fired a blast of wind at the same time.

Dan was pushed back, tripping over the edge of the hole his brother had made earlier. He twisted and almost managed to regain balance, but Phantom jumped on his shoulders, pushing him all the way down.

The warriors and Sir Tucker stopped the music. Phantom remained on top of his brother for a long moment, smirking at the other. Finally, Dan groaned loudly. "Fine," he all but spat, "I lost. Get off me now, will you?"

"Gladly," Phantom replied cheekily, rolling off and laying down next to Dan with a chuckle. "Ancients damnit, Dan! Since when can you do that?"

"Huh? Oh." Dan pushed up into a sitting position with another groan. "The one with the silk, right? Aunty Pan showed me last moon. And Feather helped me figure out the other thing, the one with the leg. Knew it'd be good against you."

"Not good enough, though," Phantom gloated, even while still laying on the ground. Dan rolled his eyes at that and walked over to Jason, falling down in the spot Roy had vacated earlier. He shot Jason a wolfish grin and a wink, then rubbed at his jaw.

"I think you broke something," Dan casually mentioned.

"I didn't," Phantom denied as he stood and took a look at the messed up ground around him, not sounding worried at all.

"Bruised, then."

"Not that, either," Phantom shook his head, then closed his eyes and reached out his hands. A green light emitted from his palms, much softer than the one of his eyes, and before their eyes the grass healed as though the fight had never happened. At the same time, though, Phantom's skin started to crack and his bones seemed to shift. All those wounds healed up before Jason could clearly see them, but they were still as undeniably there as the expression of pain of Phantom's face.

"I've got a bruise, though," Dan continued the banter as though noting was wrong with that. If Jason only looked at Dan, he wouldn't have thought that Phantom was in any pain at all. But there was a minuscule tick to his eyebrows, the same one that B got when he saw one of his children doing something and he didn't like it but wouldn't say so.

"That's probably true," Phantom shrugged, rolling his shoulders as though to loosen them, "That tends to happen during fights, you know?" Finally, Phantom glanced over. "Need a potion?"

"Please," Dan scoffed, "I'm not that weak. You?"

Phantom's gaze turned confused. "You know you can't hurt me, brother."

Dan huffed unhappily. "Maybe. Undergrowth's blessing, on the other hand…"

"Ah," Phantom nodded, "It's fine, I've healed myself already. See?"

"Yeah," Dan said, the slant of his mouth unhappy. Jason wondered how a blessing could hurt Phantom, but didn't think this was the moment to ask. He would absolutely ask later, though.

Chapter Text

"There is a song I'd like to sing," Silk spoke up once the question of the next song came up.

Surprised, Danny turned to look at his friend. Silk never wanted to sing. He adored Circles, loved participating, but he rarely even felt comfortable suggesting a song. For him to sing one? That was something Danny wouldn't ever have expected, especially not while warriors outside their fright were here, and certainly not when there were two people not yet connected to them at all.

Still, Danny withdrew from his place in the middle and deferred it to his friend. When he sat next to his betrothed again, he noticed that Feather was just as surprised and confused as Danny felt. Strange…

Wait.

Earlier, Silk had send Feather to go fetch Danny's betrothed. Danny had been surprised and suspicious at first, but Silk had soon whispered a question. Quiet, so low Danny had almost overheard it, under his breath in a way that would make reading his lips almost impossible. "My High Chief… I'd like to do something before you get married. I wonder, would you mind if I do it today? Since your wedding is almost upon us…"

Danny had given his permission in a heartbeat, just excited for his friends. He had not, however, gotten an answer when he'd asked just how Silk planed to do this. Feather's laugh had distracted them, and since both their loves had returned to them then, Danny had not asked again.

But, oh. Oh, that was cute. Awfully romantic. Danny wondered, what song had Silk chosen for this?

The man in question took a deep breath, the red ribbons he'd braided into his blond hair tonight shining in the fire's glow. Glowing green eyes focused to Feather as Silk opened his mouth to sing.

"I see you standing there,
And that smile just isn't fair.
It dosen't matter who,
I'd fight them all for you."

Danny heard Feather gasp softly next to him and felt his own heart's questioning gaze. "It's a rarely known love song," Danny whispered under his own breath, using his dagger to clap against the hilt of his sword in the right rhythm, "The one Feather sang when he asked Silk to become his boyfriend."

"And I cannot help but wonder
As these whispers pull me under
Is it Pandora that I hear?
Or is it Nocturn in my ear?
Tell me, if I gave you my sword to hold,
Would that be stupid or would it be bold?"

Silk used the interval between the refrain and next verse to draw untie his own sword, scabbard and all, from his belt.

"You make me want to cry
When crows, wolfs and owls die.
I don't mind dying here
If it's beside you, my dear.

"But I cannot help but wonder
Why their whispers pull me under?
Is it Pandora in my ear,
Or is it Nocturn like I fear?
Because I want you to hold onto my sword,
But tell me, is that of my own accord?

Silk walked over to where Feather sat slowly, offering a hand to pull his lover up. Feather, as always, went right along with him. It looked like they were in their own little world, Danny thought, as Silk drew Feather right into the middle of the circle.

"Your words are always true,
I know you follow through.
But I'm scared I could be wrong.
What if you don't come along?

"So I cannot help but wonder
Because whispers pull me under
And I can't tell just who I hear:
Pandora or Nocturn, it's not clear.
And I know my heart just can not take
Giving you my sword just for it to break."

A gust of wind loosened the silk ribbon Feather had tied his hair back with. Silk reached out and easily caught it. Carefully, almost reverently, he placed it into Feather's hand, close the other man's fingers around it and then kissed his knuckles. Danny could see the fortifying breath Silk took, and he couldn't blame his friend, even though he was about a beat to late to continue the song now.

"Perhaps it's time to be
The man you see in me.
I'll be brave as I must.
You long deserve my trust.

"And there is no need to wonder,
I'll let myself be pulled under.
It is Pandora that I hear,
There is no Nocturn in my ear." Silk slowly went down onto his knees, eyes still holding Feather's gaze even as the red-haired man finally realised what his lover was doing.
"I have enough of being too afraid!
This time I'll ask you: Will you hold my blade?"

As the last note rang out, Silk offered his sword up to Feather. Feather, in turn, stoped breathing. Slowly, speechless, he looked from the offered blade to Silk and back. "I-" His voice sounded breathless, fragile. "Love?"

Silk took another, deep breath. "My treasure," he said, his own voice shaking but surer even than when he'd once declared he wanted Pariah to die, "I love you. And I am… I would be honoured if you would take my sword."

Gasping out a laugh, Feather clasped his hands over his mouth. Even from here, Danny could see his tears sparkle in the fire light. He swallowed, then nodded. "Yes. I-" He reached out, finally, and took the offered blade. Carefully, gently, he hugged it to his chest. "I'll hold it, and I'll keep it safe."

Cheering broke out all around them. Danny himself started clapping and cheered as Silk stood, an impossibly bright smile stretching on his lips, and drew Feather in for a kiss.

Next to him, Danny's heart clapped politely but still leaned over to Danny. "What just happened, my dear?"

Oh. Right. He wouldn't know. Their own engagement had been… less than romantic, after all.

"He proposed," Danny explained gently, watching as his friends were congratulated by their fellow warriors. Dan swept Silk and Feather both into a hug and exclaimed that it had been about damn time. "In the old fashioned way. It's not commonly done anymore, but traditionally if someone wants to marry another person, they offer their sword. If the other takes it, they accept. Feather has to guard that sword for the next week now, make sure nothing happens to it. He can't allow himself to be separated from the sword for that time, or their love won't last much longer. That's the superstition, anyways"

"Why would he do it now, then?" Fortunately, the Gothamite sounded a lot more confused than he did judgemental. "We leave for the Lands the day after tomorrow. Won't it be a problem if he doesn't have his sword?"

"Well, Feather's lover is a caster an archer first and foremost," Danny explained, "so even if he does need to fight it's not really an issue that he won't have his sword. But more than that it's because we're marrying tomorrow."

When Danny looked away from the happy couple to his own betrothed, he saw how confused Prince Timothy was by that. "Another superstition," Danny allowed, "If you propose the night before a chief marries, it means your marriage will be happy. Si-" Danny coughed to make up for it, only now remembering that his heart might have Feather's name but definitely not Silk's. "Feather's betrothed," he corrected, "is a pretty old-fashioned man. He liked to follow the old customs, believes all the superstitions, things like that. The complete opposite of Feather, really."

"Then… Is this what it means to hold someone's sword?" his heart asked, eyes curious and voice warm, "That they're engaged?"

"No," Danny laughed, "No, though that is where it comes from. But it's more like… Remember what a sword means to us? It's a part of us, part of our very soul and of everything that we are. It's incredibly important, right?" He got a soft, tentative nod from his heart. "Right. So when someone says that their lover hold their sword it means that they're… utterly besotted, basically? It means they trust the other deeply, with their very being, and that they will live or die to protect that person. It also means that you've surrendered your heart and soul to the other. So… a very intimate, vulnerable kind of love. The deepest kind of love you can possibly show to your spouse."

"Oh." Danny's heart sounded so soft when he said that, eyes shining with something Danny couldn't make out. The expression on his face was so gentle and soft it almost hurt to look at, like Danny had just placed a newborn dragon in his hands and told him to raise it. Like there was something precious there, and he was scared to break it.

Danny didn't know why, couldn't think of what he'd said to cause that reaction. But his heart ached, and he wanted to say something, anything, to soothe his betrothed.

Before he could find even a single word, however, the prince swallowed and opened his mouth again. "Does that…" He took a soft breath, pushed it past his lips gently. "A few days ago, your brother said-"

A loud shriek captured both of their attention, and when Danny looked over instinctively Dan was throwing Feather into the air as though he was as light as his namesake. A startled chuckle broke free from his lips. What even…?

Next to him, his own betrothed also let out a startled laugh. "Is that another one of your traditions, then?"

"No," Danny snorted, "That's just my brother being a silly idiot. I should-" Ah. Glancing over at his heart, Danny hesitated. "I should probably stop him before it escalates much further."

His heart, sweet as always, nodded at that. He didn't even seem bothered that their conversation had been interrupted and, when Danny carefully considered him, the strange spell that had taken the Gothamite had all but vanished. "We should congratulate the happy pair, besides," Prince Timothy decided, pushing up and offering Danny a hand.

Smiling, Danny agreed.

They sang a few other songs after that. One to bless Feather and Silk's union, and a more popular love song. Things were just winding down and Danny was about to ask whether they should sing the last song for now. Then, Hyacinth gasped loudly.

"Wait!" He all but cried out. "This reminds me. High Highness is joining clan Phoenix tomorrow. And we haven't even sung your clan song yet."

"Your clan song?" the prince in question asked, brows furrowed in gentle confusion, "Whatever do you mean?"

"The clans," Dan explained from where he was lounging on the grass in front of the other prince's boots, "are all named after some magic creature or the other, in an homage of what they represent and how they came to be. They all have a constellation, too, and when one of the clan members dies Nocturn sorts them into the constellation to keep watch over the living members from amongst the stars. It's said that when you sing your clan song before the wedding day, your ancestors get to meet your betrothed and bless your union. It's done more out of respect to your clan than for good luck, but hey, old tradition."

"A clan song," Tucker chimed in helpfully, "is written by the first clan head. In our case, Danny wrote it. With help, because he's absolutely hopeless. Still, though, it's like your ceremonial paint: Only your clan gets to sing it. Sometimes, when a large battle is about to happen, warriors sing the clan songs of all the different clans participating together. Other than that, a clan song is not usually shared with outsiders. So nowadays, sharing your clan song with your future spouse is also a sign of accepting that you will now belong together. Which is why I think it's a good idea, even if our clan is too young to even have any stars yet, let alone its own constellation."

"Symbolism," Danny agreed, then sighed, "As if we didn't have too much of that already. Our traditions are steeped in that."

Dan snorted, still not bothering to sit back up. "That's rich, coming from you."

"I'm saying there's too much symbolism in our traditions," Danny defended himself, "not that the traditions themselves are the issue. In fact, I quite like them. As you know."

When Dan only snorted, Danny rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue at his brother. Then, he turned back to his heart. "He is right, however, my betrothed: We should be honouring tradition and sing our song. If you don't feel uncomfortable with that?"

Danny knew that all the traditions of the Lands took some getting used to. He still remembered how he himself, young and confused, had once bolted and barricaded himself in one of the unused studies of Clockwork's tower because he'd gotten too overwhelmed by them. And, yes, Danny knew the prince was probably too grown up to do quite that and had too much poise for that as well. Still, he'd already indulged them this much, and Danny didn't want to overwhelm or scare him off…

"I'd be honoured," his heart assured, however, "If you'd be so inclined, of course."

Smiling brightly, Danny nodded. He always did love sharing their song with his clan. "Then let's do that."

Finally, Dan deigned to stand up. Tucker carefully set down his cup before he joined them, the habits of an alchemist running deep and forcing him to be careful with any kind of liquid. While Tucker still made sure the cup would not tip over, Dan walked to Danny's heart. "Come on, then, my future brother. Join us. This will be your song, too, soon enough."

Tentatively, the prince took Dan's outstretched hand. He seemed nervous but not unsure as he followed Danny's brother into the middle of their circle. Danny smiled at him and waved to the space next to himself. The young man did as asked, and for half a second Danny marveled at how well he fit there.

"Raise your arms like this," he explained then, raising his own arms with the left wrist facing down and the right one facing up. His heart mirrored him, and Danny nodded. He adjusted his left arm so that his hand hovered over his betrothed's. Dan and Tucker did the same, completing the circle. "Exactly. Now, we'll keep our arms like this until the song's over. Don't grasp on to anyone's arm, just let the magic flow through the air."

Tucker and Dan started to hum and stop their feet in the familiar rhythm, Feather and Silk joining in as well. The two of them might not be clan, but they had been fright for years now. So even if they would not join in on the singing, they were free to do this much.

Focusing on channelling and circulating the magic, Danny closed his eyes. With his sense of vision gone he could sense the magic better. Around them, though much less than he was used to, and inside them. Tucker, of course, didn't have magic, but Dan and Danny both had enough to make up for it, coiling around their cores close to their heart. Prince Timothy had magic, too, though it felt foreign in its shape and texture. It'd been so long since Danny had interacted with holy magic rather than Lands magic.

"Got a fire in my soul" Tucker, Dan and Danny chorused together "nobody can steal.
Throw at me what you will, I know I will heal.
Rise up from the ashes of the pain I bore,
Since I am a Phoenix, right down to my core,
And I will again be born from the fire
Of my heart's very own funeral pyre.

Danny could feel how the magic he moved through the air started to flow, making its way from his own hand to his betrothed's first and then to his brother's, to his friend's and finally back to himself.

"You can throw us down, burn us up, or hunt us for the thrill.
But we’re still creatures of eternity.
We'll always heal and again we will rise.
Your actions against us are your demise.
And when we do I know with certainty:
We don’t forget, we don’t forgive, we go right for the kill.

With the fluctuation of magic established, Danny slowly opened his eyes again. For a second, he marveled at how it changed his vision every time they did this. Everything seemed to be more brightly coloured, seemed to have more depth to it and he could just see how alive things around him were.

"Our clan was born from ashes,
From tears clinging to lashes,
An orphan’s grieving screams,
Hearts torn right at their seams.
But together we’ll survive,
United we'll get to thrive.

The magic wafting between them looked like northern lights to him, wafting around them and forming a protective shield. He wondered, could his betrothed see that? He knew that Tucker couldn't, and neither anyone not part of this. But the prince had some magic in form of his blessing, so he should be able to see it too, right? Even if not as intensely as Danny.

"You can throw us down, burn us up, or hunt us for the thrill.
But we’re still creatures of eternity.
We'll always heal and again we will rise.
Your actions against us are your demise.
And when we do I know with certainty:
We don’t forget, we don’t forgive, we go right for the kill.

From one open palm to the other, magic fell like glittering sand. Toxic green and icy blue from Danny, a deep but vibrant purple from his betrothed, a bloody or fiery red from his brother, and a mix of all of that from his friend. He knew that everyone could see the brilliant glow, even Tucker with his unique disposition. It was pretty, he supposed, even if it was nothing against the stunning show of magic around them.

"We're kind, we're cruel, we're everything between.
Our feathers are the brightest thing you've seen.
And we all know that birds of a feather
Will forever keep sticking together.
We are united in our differences
Because the perfect clan is what this is.

Danny's eyes, probably pulsing between blue and green right now, slid over to his heart. He was watching the magic between their hands in curious wonder, his eyes sparkling and a soft smile playing around his lips. Did Prince Timothy know, he wondered, how he looked in the shine of his own magic? His hair looked as dark as the deepest shadow, and his eyes might not glow yet - he had not developed a core, after all - but they had grown more blue than they'd been before. Almost neon in their colour. It was pretty. Though, Danny allowed himself to think quietly to himself, he looked even prettier when was just himself, smiling and waving his hands in excitement as he explained something he considered interesting. Danny doubted, in fact, that there was anything as entrancing at that sight.

"So you could throw us down, burn us up, hunt us for the thrill.
Yet we're still creatures of eternity,
So we'll forever heal and we will rise.
If you hurt my clan it'll be your demise
Because I will still have this certainty:
I won't forget, I won't forgive, I set out for the kill."

Danny allowed the magic to do another circle as the last note rang out, before cutting it off from his hand and allowing it to return to the air around them from where it had been syphoned. They didn't move for another breath as they all acclimated to the feeling of their magic settling.

Danny, taking a deep breath, finally lowered his hands and took a step back. Breathing a laugh, he looked over at Dan. "How long has it been now? I feel so different…"

"A while, at least. Especially with him joining in," Dan shrugged, also smiling, and pointed at Tucker. "Man, my core is purring We need to do this more often again."

"Yes," Danny nodded, gently resting a few fingers over his chest, where his own core resided. "It's definitely been too long if we reacted that strongly."

"What are you talking about, pray tell?" the voice of Danny's heart chimed in. Danny would forever deny that he jumped at it, core humming appreciatively still and guard lowered by it.

"You saw the way our magic moved right now?" Danny asked, waiting for the answering nod before he continued. "Sharing magic like that syncs our cores. Nobody was meant to bare the burden of ancient magic on the body alone, and syncing in that way helps to relieve some of that burden. The cores share a tune for a bit, and it feels… settling. Calming. Like a relief right down to the soul."

"It's why clanless people are much more likely to loose themselves to their magic. Because they can't sync with anyone and that means their defences get weakened, as do their magic senses." Tucker sighed, already walking back to his spot.

"Yes, well, it's all terribly complicated. Too complicated for this late at night," Dan sighed, stretching and also walking back to Prince Jason's side, "The point is it's calming and comfortable. Soothes something deep in your soul, maybe?" Yawning and closing his eyes, Dan leaned back on his hands where he'd sat down. "And it always makes me so tired…"

Danny shook his head, chuckling. "It is getting late, I suppose," he agreed, casting a questioning look around, "Perhaps we should wrap up for tonight? It's an important day tomorrow. I can't imagine any one of us wants to be overly tired for it."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Prince Jayson voiced his thoughts for the first time tonight, "We've been at it for a few of hours now. By now it's, what, almost midnight? And if I remember right, most of you have to get up with the sunrise. So…"

Danny briefly winced at the reminder. It was one thing he didn't like about summer, how early the day began. He preferred winter, when he could sleep in and still be up before dawn. Sure, it was more than annoying that they only got around two hours of daylight then, but much better than summer where the sky stayed bright even as the sun sank below the horizon. Back home, warriors had to take shifts guarding against the sunrise at this time of year. Sleeping for about an hour a night just wasn't sustainable, after all, not even for the warriors of the Infinite Lands. And the regions even further north than the capital region had it worse - the sun never set during summer and never rose in winter.

So every night just one of the clan members would wait for the sun to dip below the horizon and the others would go to bed in the earlier evening in the capital, and in the northernmost regions the warriors communally took turns staying up all night.

Compared to that, Gotham's summer nights were almost a luxury. Just over four hours, even as the solstice approached. That was more night than Danny had grown up to expect in summer, even before leaving Amity. The sun had vanished behind the mountains and they'd had a couple of hours of what seemed like full night. About three or four hours, maybe, from what he'd been told later on by the wanderers.

"Fortunately for me," he sighed with a wry grin, "I do get exempt from that duty on my wedding day. Unfortunately for the rest of us, I am the only one."

"Then I suppose we shall retire for the night," Danny's heart decided with a decisive nod. Cute.

"Very well," Danny nodded. "Then, everyone: Empty your cups."

They did, some like Danny swallowing the last of it, and some pouring their drinks onto the floor instead. They all stood, and after a bit of hesitation the princes of Gotham joined them. Danny smiled at them encouragingly, then raised his hands to create ice in all the empty cups. With a flick of his hand, the ice melted into water. Then, the Children of the Lands began to sing together, creating music with just their voices this time.

The last song was a mourning song. To honour the family they had lost, the pain they had gone through and Nocturn, who took care of those they dearly missed. At the beginning, Danny had felt like an imposter, singing mourning songs about those in the stars when his own fallen family resided with Astri's shadows instead. But as time went on, he found that he'd been wrong about that.

Danny had fallen comrades, for one, who had been taken up there by Nocturn. He'd lost some in their uprising against Pariah, and more when the solstice came and they defended their home with their lives. Not everyone came back from that. Some had not fallen honourably in battle, either. They had died a peaceful death of old age, or they had been betrayed by remnant supporters of Pariah. Some had fallen to famine or illnesses, too.

On the other hand, Danny was part of the Infinite Lands. As much as Nocturn or any of the Ancients, and as much as this song. He did not just honour his own fallen loved ones up in the stars, he had come to understand, but those of the ones singing with him as well. He was not just mourning, he was honouring them. And he was honouring the traditions that had made the Infinite Lands flourish.

One after the other, they poured their water onto the fire. Danny was last, so that he could extinguish the flame as the last note rang out. For a moment, they all just stood there and remembered. Then, silently, one after the other broke off from the group and returned to their quarters. Danny just stood and watched the smoke rise.

"Go," he whispered to his heart after a while, not taking his eyes off of the fire, "I'll come home later. Just… let me watch for a while."

"He always does this," he heard Dan whisper, "He watches until the smoke is gone. Leave him, he needs this."

He didn't comment on it, and neither did the Gothamites. He heard their soft steps retreading across the lawn, though.

Chapter Text

The day of their wedding was one of mild weather. It was as cloudy as was usual for Gotham, but also neither cold nor muggy or rainy. That was a rarity, though it wasn't as bad during summer.

The last preparations were made, the flower arrangements set up and the banquet hall touched up for the last time. While the servants were hard at work with all of that, the guests and the protagonists of this wedding alike were getting ready. It was, after all, the first royal wedding within Gotham in two generations. The last had been when Kind Thomas Wayne had finally managed to woo Martha, the beautiful daughter of Duke Kane. So of course, this wedding could be nothing short of spectacular and all eyes were on it.

And that would hold true even if it was not the High Chief of the Infinite Lands marrying into Gotham royalty. Or… Gotham royalty marrying into the clan of the High Chief? Tim would leave with him, after all. That was the country they would rule over, Danny with Tim at his side. But as Tim would keep his title as per their contract it wasn't that straight forward, was it?

Because while Tim would become the High Lord of the Infinite Lands, his coronation would not be for a long time yet. He wasn't sure how long, exactly, it would take. However, Danny would be off to fight monsters while Tim adjusted to his new life and after that was their wedding and then a coronation would surely take some time to prepare. So he would be the High Lord in all but name for some time. Danny, on the other hand, would become a Prince Consort of Gotham today.

Tim knew, of course, that this matter of titles within the Infinite Lands was more complicated that that. After all, he had been called "future brother", "future brother-in-law" and "brother" alike already. He had also been addressed as "future High Lord" and as "my Lord" by the guards the brothers had brought along. And judging by the look of pure distain that one female guard had gotten from her companion for the day when she'd addressed him as "fiancé to the High Chief" a few days ago when he'd come across them, Tim figured something about not acknowledging the title which was soon to be bestowed upon Tim had been some form of affront.

His future title had been decided, and the ceremony today would cement that fact further. And Tim had an inkling that this was as good as having the title to the Children of the Lands.

Well. Be that as it may, today was a day of importance for the entire continent. Not just for Tim or his family.

The knowledge helped nothing to settle the bundle nerves that kept growing in his stomach. Because what if something went wrong? What if something unexpected happened? The wedding ceremony was held within the temple. What if the gods didn't want this wedding to happen? And what it they did? What if nothing went wrong?

Tim loved Danny. And for most couples, if could have been as easy as that. But they were not a normal couple. They were a prince and the ruler of a nation that had been at war not even a lifetime ago. Tim had been raised for politics, and he knew that even if he trusted Danny had had found the strange customs and legends of the Lands to be intriguing and benign if not downright brilliant, he was under no illusion that he could trust the Children of the Lands as a whole. There were bound to be people unhappy with this, after all.

It had been fine in Gotham. What if it wouldn't be in the Lands?

What if… Tim barely dared to entertain the thought. But what if Kon had been right, what if Tim was wrong about Danny and all of this?

Tim closed his eyes, then took a deep breath in, and out.

"You're one to talk," he remembered Lord Dantrey say at dinner when Sir Tucker had just arrived, "He already holds your sword!"

Tim held on to that memory. Those words were so much more important than Tim had realised at the time. He'd only remembered them because he'd wondered what it'd meant, whether that was some way to say Tim wasn't trustworthy. But it wasn't. And even if Danny had denied it then, even if it had been said in jest, surely, surely Lord Dantrey would not have said that if there wasn't at least a chance. If Tim had not at least already managed to sow some seeds of endearment within his betrothed.

"You're looking awfully troubled for a man that's about to marry the one he claims to love."

Tim flinched, eyes opening and meeting Jason's figure in the reflexion of the vanity he was sitting at. His older brother, clad in the black of house Wayne and the blood red of his own coat of arms, leaned against the wall next to the door in a poor imitation of relaxed. Turquoise eyes found his in the mirror, a gloved hand reaching up to run through his hair before remembering that he'd already styled it for the occasion.

Tim went for a reassuring smile, but saw it coming out as more of a grimace. Sighing, he picked up the makeup container with the soft red lipgloss again and carefully dapped some more of it onto his face with a finger. "There is a lot at stake," Tim answered diplomatically.

Jason, though, looked downright disgusted with it. "Oh, spare me. That kind of talk is for the pit of vipers calling themselves noble out there. I'm your brother. Be honest, Timmy."

Picking up the golden eyeliner he still needed to apply to stall for time, Tim pursed his lips. "I suppose," he finally said, carefully tracing his lash line, "that I'm a bit… unsettled. I don't know what life will be like over there, or what they'll think of me. Just because Danny has been so kind-"

A soft scoff interrupted him and Tim halted his movement to glare at Jason. "Oh, do shut up. I know you don't see it, but Danny is being kind. Where he has the leeway to be, and even where he has to make some."

"If you say so," Jason sighed, "I just… Well. Maybe I'll see what you mean with time. The Novitate knows there'll be enough of that soon."

Satisfied with that for now, Tim nodded and kept painting the soft dusting of gold around his eye. "As I was saying, just because Danny has been kind does not mean all the Children of the Lands will be. And… I'm unsure what exactly my work will consist of. I know I'll have some responsibilities, just not what they are. Besides, what if I do something terribly rude and I don't even notice? The rules will be so different there, and I don't know them. So…" He sighed, closing his eyes again for a moment. "Yes. I'm nervous. And with all that hinges on our union being successful I… I honestly feel more like I'm heading into battle than getting married."

Jason didn't say anything to that, but his eyes softened and he pushed off the wall to wrap Tim in a firm hug. A rare thing, for Jason to initiate one of those. He liked hugs, but not the vulnerability they brought, he liked being held close but often needed a shield of reluctance to hide this fact behind. For him to be the one to come to Tim and hug him was a rare gift, and as always Tim accepted the gesture by relaxing into it.

"I don't want to leave home," Tim whispered through a tight throat, a confession.

Jason hummed, lips pressed tightly against each other. "…You might like it there."

Tim opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed. He didn't say any of the things he wanted to. Instead, he shrugged. "Their culture is certainly intriguing."

"Phantom said he'd teach you Ghost Speak," Jason supplied.

Tim tried for a smile, failed. "I want to know more about the Ancients, too. And about Paths."

"Well," Jason hesitantly murmured against Tim's hair, his own attempt at a smile reaching neither his eyes nor his voice and if not for the reflection Tim wouldn't even have known it was there, "you will certainly learn about that. As much as you want. Maybe even more."

They lapsed into silence for a long while. Then, Tim took another breath in. Softly, quietly, he breathed out like a secret: "I'm scared of the Lands."

"But not of Phantom," his brother observed. Tim shook his head. Jason hummed again at that, kissing the crown of Tim's hair, careful not to mess it up. "It's not easy," he whispered, "but it doesn't have to be."

Closing his eyes again, Tim took one more steadying breath. It was easier now and here, somehow. "I suppose," he agreed, then smirked. "Now, let me do the other eye. Or else I shall get married looking utterly ridiculous."

Jason snorted, even as he let Tim go. "You, my dear brother, always look ridiculous."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Dan all but slammed his weapon of choice onto the table. "It's a wedding, not some… some… low-profile event where say one sentence and it's done!"

Sighing tiredly, Danny shook his head. "With no," he said, patiently, "I mean no. I will not just sit here and-"

"You're talking as if I'm about to slaughter everyone here," Dan accused, eyebrows knit together tightly and a deep scowl of something close to disgust set on his face, "It's your wedding. This is necessary! Stop being such a dramatic, whiny- "

"Have you considered," Danny interrupted Dan, shifting so that he could move as needed to foil Dan's absolutely idiotic idea, "that I'm not so much being dramatic as you overreacting in all of this?" All he got for his efforts was the driest look he had received all day. "They already see us as barbarians. Now, put away that torture device and-"

"Torture device?!" Dan all but shrieked, utter offence and disbelief painting all of him, "Danny, this is a hairbrush! I'm just trying to make you look appropirate. You can't just tie your hair together with a flower and call it a day this time!"

Instead of correcting Dan's assumption that he was about to do that again, Danny took of.

"Guards!"

All air was knocked out of him as he was grabbed forcefully mid-run and dragged back mercilessly. Betrayed and dismayed, he looked up into the familiar face of someone he'd thought was his friend. "Traitor," he whispered.

Feather raised an eye, looking even less impressed with Danny than Dan had. Ouch.

"I'm wearing the stupid clothes," Danny bemoaned, "even though they're objectively too warm for this kingdom. I'm wearing my markings, the regalia and even make-up."

"We always wear make-up, Danny," Feather sighed, indicating his own red paint.

Ignoring him, Danny continued: "Why can't you leave my hair alone, at least?"

"Do you really have to do this every time?" Dan sighed as Feather pushed Danny into the chair, holding him there for a moment until he was sure Danny wouldn't just bolt again. "By now you should really know that it's important and that we won't just let you tie it together with a fl-"

"With a flower, I know," Danny groaned as Dan unknotted the ribbons Danny had used to tie his hair earlier, "I did that once. Besides, I already did my hair. See? Seven braids and everything."

Dan actually paused in opening up Danny's hair just so he could lean into his sight and give him a look. "Those," he sniffed, "weren't braids. They were an affront to the idea. Besides, you just did seven braids and then tied them together in the back. That's not how this hairstyle works. At all."

Alright, so maybe Danny had been a bit more free in his interpretation of the tradition. But he'd still submitted to it, instead of just tying it up into a ponytail like he'd wanted to! He didn't say that, however. In fact, he didn't even point out that this took forever when Dan did it or that sitting still for hours on end just so his hair could be stupidly intricate to the point where it looked ridiculous was a cruel and unusual punishment and should be considered a crime. Instead, he sighed and asked: "And the stones? I didn't even have to do that for my coronation."

"Because you threatened to just not get coronated," Dan pointed out and, before Danny could ask whether threatening not to get married would do anything, amended: "Besides. This is your wedding, brother. That's the most important day in your life."

"The first one of two," Danny pointed out begrudgingly, "Besides, this one doesn't even have any magic in it. The closest we get will be doing it front of the gods. It's tradition, not ritualistic. I shouldn't have to suffer through this for that."

"Oh, don't worry," Feather shrugged, laying out the stones in question carefully, "We will absolutely force you into this for your second wedding as well."

A horrible thought that made Danny shudder. Dan smacked him on the shoulder for it. "Stop moving, I don't want to pull your hair out."

"Then just stop brushing it with that thing?"

"The thing," Dan sighed, "is called a comb. I know you prefer brushes but, Danny, you have incredibly fine hair. It gets tangled something horrible, and if I don't use the comb I won't get all of it out." Danny wasn't sure how he did it, but as soon as Danny opened his mouth, Dan let out another deep, defeated sigh. "No, I will not just pull harder. Do you know how bad that is for your hair? You'll damage it and then rip half of it off - and, no, we can not just cut it to the length where it breaks, Danny. Hair holds memories, it's important."

Maybe, Danny considered even as he huffed, Dan was telepathically inclined after all. He said he was not, but sometimes there just wasn't any other explanation. Still, Danny huffed out: "That's not what I was about to say, but whatever."

"It was," both Dan and Feather countered together, the bastards.

Silence fell over the room as Danny tried not to shift, Dan carefully sectioning his hair out and Feather passing him ribbons and pins as he needed them. More than half of that stuff, Danny knew from too much experience, was just to hold everything in place and wouldn't even stay in. It was annoying, it took too long, and Danny had a harder time not fidgeting or shifting with every slow, passing second.

"I shouldn't have gotten blessed so often," Danny lamented finally, just so he had something different to do than wait and feel his hair being shifted around behind him. It wasn't that Dan was bad at it or anything. Actually, Dan was so careful with it that it almost felt nice. But… Well. Not having anything else to focus on was difficult. Especially since Dan had apparently set his sights on doing the entire traditional High Chief braid.

Feather snorted. "A bit late to have regrets now, don't you think?"

"I can't believe you're upset about it because of the hair ornaments," Dan scoffed at the same time.

Sighing, Danny almost leaned back but another smack to the shoulder had him straighten back up. "I don't like dressing up," he observed once again, "It's so much effort and I just don't see the point."

"The point is that it's a special day. I mean…" Dan sighed, securing another tiny braid with a pin for the moment. "Aren't you excited for your wedding?"

"Of course I am," Danny protested softly, "This is an important step for the Lands, for the peace we wanted. And more than that, I get to be with Prince Timothy. He will become part of my family. And I… I couldn't imagine someone I'd rather share my life with."

"Then what's the harm in a little extra effort?" Feather asked, just as softly. He gave Dan the first of the gem stones, a small and jaded thing that glowed a faint green. The one for Undergrowth's blessing, and it would be the only one in its colour. Differently to all the other ones. Danny really had too many blessings.

"Nobody here will care," Danny protested, even as he allowed Dan to braid the gem in. "And…" He bit his lip, unsure whether he should say it and how he would even go about it.

Feather and Dan both seemed to be perfectly content to wait him out. Dan kept working on Danny's hair silently and Feather kept passing him gems. They were all the way through the purple ones and the three clear ones glowing white by the time Danny spoke up again, and his head felt significantly heavier with the twelve stones already in his hair.

"What," Danny asked, barely over a whisper, "if he hates me for it some day? I mean, he made the choice to agree and I offered him to end all this, but… He's still a high born noble of Gotham of all places, even a prince now. And I'm just… some knight's son, thrown out of the family and fighting in the mud. I might have a title now and be a ruler and all that, but I'm still me. And his Highness is brilliant, and kind, and understanding, and strong, and- I just can't compare. It's… What if he regrets this?"

Silence. Heavy and condemning and suffocating, almost. Then, just as heavy as the silence had been, Feather sighed. "You are an idiot, my High Chief," he declared, sounding long suffering. But his voice gentled out when he continued, even if it still had a teasing edge to it: "You're happy with this match. So is he. You suit each other. So why not relax a bit now, hm? Good things are allowed to happen to you, too."

"I-" Danny sighed. "It doesn't feel like they do, sometimes."

Feather hummed inexpressively. "War does that to you, sometimes. It makes you feel like things shouldn't be better, even when they are. You always wait for the other shoe to drop. For something to go wrong. But, Danny, that doesn't mean it has to. The gods were awful to you the last time you were outside of the Lands. Maybe this is just their way of making it up to you?"

"The gods aren't kind enough for that," Danny snorted.

Dan, apparently having had enough of being silent, hummed his agreement. "They're not, but… Sojourn's mother. She's the Goddess of Fate, right?"

"One of them," Danny agreed, wanting to tilt his head but unable to without pulling on the strands of hair Dan was currently holding, "Clockwork's is the other. Itiner and Novitate write fate together. Why?"

"Well," Dan mused, considering even as he kept making Danny's hair unnecessarily heavy, "Sojourn likes you. And he's carrying Elle close to his chest, too, right? So I'm just thinking, since his mother actually accepts him as her son and cherishes him…"

"You think this is some favour Itiner is doing me?" Danny wasn't sure he managed to hide his disbelieve at the notion. "As, what, some kind of favour to Sojourn? When we both know he definitely didn't even ask for it?"

"I think it's possible," Feather shrugged, and apparently they were done with the red gems already because the one he passed Dan now was silvery-grey.

Two of those, Danny knew, glancing at the other stones with trepidation, and then three more colours to go. Hiemis and Nocturn both wouldn't be that bad, he supposed, with two each. But Frostbite had been just as over the top as Clockwork, so there must have been over ten stones left in total.

"How many of those are there anyways," he grumbled, mostly to himself.

"Thirty," Feather answered, not sounding bothered by it at all even as Danny couldn't keep the dismayed sound locked in his throat, "Eight of those from Clockwork and Frostbite alone. Respectively, of course." He caught Danny's eye as he handed Dan the first black sone with its deep violet shimmer. "And those are just the blessings we know about. Since someone didn't bother keeping track."

It might, Danny admitted only to himself even as he gave Feather his most innocent smile, be because of this in part at least that he didn't like keeping track of his blessings. Who wanted over thirty gem stones braided into their hair, no matter how small they may be?

At least he'd been able to convince his fright that smaller gems would do, considering the sheer amount of them. Most High Chiefs wore their blessings proudly at the size of a small pendant. Pariah had been so dramatic and over the top that his gems had been the size of a small coin. Danny's, on the other hand, were only about as big as a decently sized pearl each. Much more bearable. Even if it was still too much, really.

"Do I really have thirty blessings?" Danny asked in distaste rather than saying any of that. "When did that happen?"

"Well, when you told them the next one who brought up adopting you wouldn't see you until they got their heads back on straight, Clockwork and Frostbite kept trying to outdo each other by blessing you more," Dan mused, "And aunty Pan is always worried about you when she remembers that you have a human's fragility, so she blessed you a couple of times. Sojourn gave you again blessings when you needed them to get the crown and then again when his favourite niece complained about… something. Nocturn gave you that second blessing as an apology for that coma-thing that happened a while back. And I think Vortex just didn't want to feel left out."

"So basically, either Itiner and Novitate are laughing at me or cursed me with circumstances that would make all the Ancients bless me repeatedly all the time." Danny watched wearily as Dan started with the light blue gems. "Got it."

"Not all of the Ancients," Feather reminded smugly. "Undergrowth only gave you that one blessing. His stone looks so lonely in that wealth of colour…"

To Danny's chagrin, Dan snickered. "Watch the night break, brother," he teased Danny, "I'm almost done with these, and then all I have to do is assemble everything together."

Well, Danny thought, that was actually kind of comforting. Weary of Dan's tone, however, Danny asked: "And how long do you suppose that will take?"

When Dan and Feather exchanged a look over Danny's head, they started laughing. That in itself was enough of an answer, and Danny groaned loudly. It only served to make the two assholes laugh even louder.

Think of your heart, Danny told himself with as much patience and pride as he could muster in this situation, At least you'll get to marry him if you make it through this. It's just… a final trial, is all.

Somehow, Danny felt as though it was a particularly cruel trial but still. remembering what all of this was for made it bearable enough that Danny was confident he would make it through this.

Pulling the hood of her cloak deeper, she frowned.

"So. This is Bristol, huh?" She glanced at the guards they'd just snuck past, the nervous undercurrent of people knowing something important was happening somewhere they couldn't watch, the old fountain and the dark stone used for architecture here. "I can't say I'm impressed."

"I think it's perfectly lovely," the other woman chimed in, black lips twisting into a grin, "Much space to hide."

"As much as I enjoy you both getting distracted by places you already know," her uncle chimed in, his own hood obscuring his face in dark shadows, "I believe we have a… mission. One we are rapidly running out of time for. Yes?"

Exchanging a glance with the older woman next to her, she gave a firm nod. Right. The reason they'd come here. They could, after all, not allow that recipe for disaster to stand as it was. "If my information is right," she told the others once again, "they should arrive in the main temple shortly, and we have to get through the entire city to make it there. We have to hurry if we want to make it before the wedding."

Chapter Text

It was silent in the prayer room. The statues of the gods surrounded him, light filtering softly through the stained glass mosaic on the ceiling. It was a beautiful array of colour, all the symbols and colours of the gods united. The floor, wooden and polished to perfection, thumped softly with every step he took. The marble walls contrasted beautifully with their golden adornments that sectioned the circular room into eight equal parts, one for each of the gods and one left blank for the dead god. His part was, as was tradition, hidden by beautifully embroidered silk and velvet drapes, black on black.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to Astri's altar and lit the dark blue candle there. Astri was the god who blessed Tim's line so it only felt right to come to him first. As he kneeled, he realised that this was the first time he would actually sincerely ask the gods for something. But the Ancients were real, apparently, so surely this could not be amiss.

"Astri," Tim murmured, watching the candle flicker. The flame flickered blue every now and again, the salts hidden inside the wax colouring it in Astri's hue. Tim couldn't particularly sense Astri's attention on him, but then again he never had. Still, he took a deep breath and kept addressing the flame. "I know I probably don't have the right to ask anything of you. We both know I've not been a devout follower. However, you've blessed and protected my family for generations. I hear you do not get along with the Ancients, and that they were the ones who hurt you. But I'll leave soon. And I can't reach out to you from where I go. So, please. I… My family will remain here. My brother will return too. So, Astri, thank you for your blessings so far, and please protect them."

He waited for a second, hoped that any sign he'd been heard would come. Of course it didn't but… Tim still felt better for having done this.

He bowed deeply to the god once more, then walked over to Novitate's altar. Once again, he bowed, lit the candle and kneeled, addressing a flame flickering with soft lilac hues.

"Novitate," he whispered, swallowing, "please listen. I dearly need your help. I'm about to get married, and I love my groom. But I don't know what lies ahead. Everything will change for me now, and we both know I've never been one to seek out the gods but… Well. If everything is about to change what is one more thing, right?" He smiled ruefully. "Novitate, I ask that you bless this wedding. And I ask that my new life will be a happy one. Please. I'm leaving everything behind. I know you like the new and all the possibility it brings, but I'm so scared. Help me, at least while you still can. Please."

Tim didn't bother looking for an answer this time. Instead, he averted his eyes as he bowed and move to Itiner's altar. The same motions again, and then Tim kneeled in front of a flame flickering with bright pink.

"Itiner," he addressed her, head held high even as he had to take a deep breath, "This is the path I choose. I have no regrets about it. No matter what happens next, I will never ask you to change this. This is the path I am supposed to walk, and I am sure in that. But that doesn't mean that there is less uncertainty in my future. Soon, I will write new stories, probably some I can't even imagine right now. So that I can persevere through those and in order to walk the path that I chose, I need to first go through a dangerous journey. My brother will be with me, and my husband as well." And wasn't that a strange though? Calling Danny his husband? But by then, he would be. "I will return, I think. My husband promised I might. So for that journey, and for all the times I or my family will come back here, and for all the uncertainty that awaits us on that path, I humbly request the support of your kind and guiding hands."

He bowed, stood, hesitated.

The guests were currently in the main hall of the temple, passing the rope and tying their wishes into it. This was the last chance Tim had to pray before being wed. And, since they were set to leave tomorrow, likely the last chance he had to pray at all. Ironic, surely, considering this was also the first time he even prayed honestly in his life. But… An opportunity as well, perhaps.

Turning, Tim walked over to the black curtains and bowed as deeply as he could for a moment. Then, he lit the candle on the altar next to the display, kneeling but not bowing as he watched the red flame flicker to life.

A mere mortal should never be so impertinent as to look at a god directly when they make a request, his biological father used to warn him. Duke Drake had not been devout either, but scared perhaps of what the gods would do when angered. And yet, Tim took a deep breath and all the impertinence he held in his body and locked eyes with the statue of Letate.

"You're the Goddess of War," Tim told her what she probably already knew, "but you are also the patron of mothers. You had a son yourself. He blessed my husband. And it's magic we intend to use, so I'm not even sure you would consider me a mother. Still. I will have children as well, children whose other father is under your son's protection. Letate, I am scared for them. The Infinite Lands are treacherous and they will be in a precarious situation. I can not imagine the pain you must have gone through, but I know you are kind enough to protect others from it where you can."

Finally, Tim lowered his eyes to her candle. "Letate, please protect my children all well. Wage your wars where it won't reach them. Allow them to grow up in peace and, please, I beg you, whatever it takes, just don't make me loose them."

Tim doesn't stand this time. Instead, he keeps kneeling in front of Letate, surrounded by the flames of other gods, and watches her fire. He stayed like this right until he is called out of the prayer room for the ceremony in the main hall.

I wish for Tim to be happy.

Bruce carefully, gently, folded the Wayne-golden rope between the other two.

I wish for him to be safe.

Another soft twist, this time in the maroon of the house of Drake.

I wish for Tim's love to be requited.

His hands shook as he moved the toxic green rope, the one in the Infinite Land's colour, between the other two. He could barely make himself treat it carefully as well, but- He could not allow the wish to be loosely tied. So he forced himself to be careful regardless.

I wish for him to remain healthy.

The golden rope again and Bruce's finger lovingly caressed the colour, the one he had offered to his son when he'd adopted him, as he moved it a bit further.

And I wish for him to be allowed to come visit us soon.

One more twist of maroon and then Bruce tied the ropes off with a knot. It was long, even braided. All of the guests had tied many well-wishes into it, and there weren't few guests here today. The main hall of the temple was filled, and Bruce knew the banquet later would hold even more people. But as the father of the one being married off, Bruce was the last one to tie his wishes in and the one to cut the excess rope. It wasn't much, but it still felt important, so he did it carefully.

"They can enter now," Bruce informed the two servants waiting at the respective doors. With a bow, the two of them slipped out. Bruce allowed himself one more deep breath before he carefully put the ropes onto the altar and walked over to Tim's door.

Phantom was first to enter. Slowly, with firm steps and head held high, he walked up to the altar and in front of the priest. He looked different than he usually did, Bruce noted, and had to swallow as he realised Phantom must have planned this for a long time. Those clothes were tailor-made and obviously meant for the occasion. Not hurriedly made, either. With embroidery like that, it must have taken much longer than a month to make them.

Phantom wasn't wearing leather, for once. Instead he wore an undershirt made out of shimmering, silver scales which Bruce suspected were from some sort of dragon. Over it, draped over his left shoulder and then tied around his waist like a belt, was a long piece of iridescent, faintly blue silk. It was embroidered in intricate patterns with a glittering thread, artful and luxurious but not intrusive. Snowflakes, Bruce thought, and by the looks of it each one as unique as a real one. His pants were well-cut, and just loose enough to allow for the full range of movement. They were a warm and soft hue, almost the colour of sandstone. His boots looked new as well. A rich mahogany brown etched with gold in the form of a dragon's tail.

His hair, braided intricately as it usually was and twisted around the crown, had many glowing stones braided into them and they glittered like stars. He wore weapons as he always did. Two daggers strapped to his thigh and a sword at his side. The scabbards looked like they were new and had been made to suit the boots. His paint was firmly in place as well, but not the black gloves he always seemed to wear. He wore silk in the same colour as his boots wrapped around his forearms like they were bracers, but his hands were free.

For the ring. Like he'd promised. Gods…

This was the man that Tim would marry today. This was the man whom Tim would follow into a dangerous land, and…

He refused to let that thought cloud his mind right now. Tim loved this man. And more than that, his son deserved a happy wedding. No matter the circumstances surrounding it, that at least he could give him.

Bruce didn't take his eyes off of the man, though, until he could hear Tim's door open and his son stepping into the hall. Slowly, carefully, he took his son's hands and guided him towards Phantom. "Whatever happens next," he repeated what he'd told Tim earlier this morning, "we all have your back. We love you, I love you, and I'm proud of you. If you ever need us, all you have to do is write to us and we will do whatever we can to reach you."

Once again, all the answer he got was a single nod. That was fine. Just as long as Tim remembered.

The walk over to Phantom was both too slow and too fast. When they'd arrived, Bruce looked at Tim's hands so that he didn't need to look at Tim's face or at Phantom. Carefully, gently, Bruce took Tim's hand and, with one last squeeze, put it on top of Phantom's.

He still didn't look up when he turned and walked away. Only when he sat down in the front row with the rest of his children. Duke offered a shaky smile to him when he sat, and Jason pressed his shoulder against Bruce's in silent support. Dick gently took Bruce's hand and squeezed it. Until then, he hadn't even noticed that his hands had been shaking.

Danny watched as his betrothed, soon husband, walked towards him. The entrances had been to different sides of the altar and the priest who'd brought him to his door had muttered about something about symbolism and joining, but Danny had honestly been too nervous to pay much attention. Then again, Danny was only human, in the end, and it would take a much grander being than that to keep calm in this situation.

Marriage.

Danny was about to marry. Not in front of the Ancients, perhaps, but- In front of the Gods. In front of those that had abandoned him, cast him out. In front of those under whose protection he'd been born. The ones his parents had prayed to.

In front of the gods who had blessed his family.

If he hadn't been kidnapped back then, if Hiemis hadn't had to save him, would he have born the same blessing as his mother, as Jazz? Or maybe the blessing of his great-grandfather, the same one King Oliver had.

One more opportunity lost. One more thread cut.

And Danny didn't regret the life he had now. He was happy. But- Well, he also hadn't had to face the gods since then. So being here, inside a temple for not one but all of the seven gods felt… strange. Unsettling. A bit like sacrilege, maybe.

But once the King of Gotham stepped to the side and revealed Danny's heart, none of that was a concern to him any longer.

He was breathtaking.

A single strand of hair was braided, keeping the rest of it behind his ear. The hair on the other side fell gently with a slight curve to it that Danny knew wasn't natural. Prince Timothy's hair was straight, and not even long enough to reach his shoulders. Even Feather had longer hair than him. So Danny really had no idea how he had done it, but with how beautifully it framed the prince's face he could not complain.

Danny's heart wore a maroon scarf around his neck, adorned with a golden-rimmed onyx brooch. That, though, was the only colour he wore. Everything else, from the formal pants and the shirt to the corset-vest and the ornate tailcoat, was white. The shirt was beautifully made. Danny didn't know what the sleeves were made out of but they were almost sheer where they fanned out beyond the tailcoat. The vest had the same silver embroidery as the tailcoat, some beautiful mixture of a floral design and stars.

The circlet he wore was golden, Danny noticed and wondered whether that'd been a deliberate choice. A golden circlet for marrying Danny. He doubted it, yet it still made something in his chest flutter. His gaze flitted over to Dan's arm, where the rose gold cuff shaped like a dragon's claw curled around his arm twice.

"Your spouse, once you find them, will be the people's head so that they can speak," he remembered Clockwork say at the coronation, "the four devision heads will be their hands so that they can act, the folk will be the body so that they can live, and you, Phantom, will from this day forth be the wings - so that they will be free."

The crown of the High Chief's spouse, the crown that would soon rightfully belong to Prince Timothy, was as yellow a gold as the circlet he wore now. As yellow as the Wayne family's crest, too, Danny noted with a bit of amusement. That might be coincidence, or maybe Clockwork had known who the first foreign High Lord in history would be and arranged things accordingly.

For now it was this circlet, though, that would sit atop the head of Danny's heart. Not quite a place holder, but… A glimpse though the mirror all the same, perhaps.

The Prince had painted his face, too. Not in the ceremonial paint of a Child of the Lands, of course. He didn't have a family or clan paint he could use for that, not yet. But he had used gold to outline his eyes. That, too, felt significant.

Danny's eyes caught on the dagger strapped to his heart's hip. A single one, and ornamental by the looks of it. But still, a weapon. Like it was customary in the culture he planned to join. It made something warm flare in Danny's chest and he could feel how his own face softened. His heart gave him a nervous smile when he noticed where Danny was looking, averting his gaze with a beautiful blush colouring his cheeks.

"I hope that wasn't too forward of me…" he whispered, bashfully looking up at Danny through dark lashes.

Danny shook his head, feeling the smile that was playing with his own lips. "Not at all," he answered in the same hushed voice. And then, "You look beautiful."

The blush deepened, as did the smile. "So do you." Danny's heart reached up, and for a moment Danny hoped he would reach out and cradle Danny's cheek. But he only hesitated and then pointed to the gems Dan had worked into his hair elegantly. "I like those. Are they glowing?"

"Yes," Danny smiled as he confirmed, trying not to show his disappointment. Instead, he touched the braid swung over his shoulder and felt them with his index. "They're in the colour of the Ancients," he explained softly, "One for each blessing I carry with me."

The priest cleared his throat and when Danny looked over the man wore a tight smile. And, yes, alright. It was probably disrespectful to talk about the Ancients in a temple dedicated to their parents. Parents who didn't even acknowledge them as their children.

Except for Itiner. Because Itiner was a decent person. Which was probably also why her son hadn't joined the fighting in the Uprising, Danny supposed.

Offering an apologetic smile, Danny signed at the priest to wait for a moment. He wanted to start the wedding, wanted to finally be his heart's husband, but this was important. More important than what Danny wanted. So he leaned over to his betrothed's ear, raising a hand to his his mouth to hide his lips.

"Are you still sure about this?" he asked in a whisper, some part of him glad he couldn't see the prince's face just in case, "Because if not this is your last chance to stop all this. I'll even take the blame if you want."

But Danny's heart only nodded. And when Danny moved back to look at him, he offered a smile before turning to the priest. "If you would?"

The priest looked unsure for a moment. Danny didn't know why, but when the man looked at Danny it must have reassured him, because he immediately nodded. "Of course. Let's begin, then."

The reached for a rope laying on the altar between the marble statues of a magpie and a butterfly. Danny recognised the green of the Lands, a bit too yellow but as close as foreigners could probably get, and the gold of the house of Wayne. He didn't recognise the maroon, but seeing as his heart was also wearing the colour… Something personal, maybe? He would ask later.

"We have gathered in front of the Seven Divine Gods," the priest said, speaking loud enough that the entire hall could hear them, "to join two souls in marriage. Itiner has guided them here, and Novitate will now shape their new lives. If anyone here knows of a reason this should not be done, with Eose's blessing, speak now, or give the thought to Astri so he may hide it forevermore."

Silence. Good. Danny had been scared for a moment, because what if someone actually had a reason? That would have been bad. Because now that his heart was here and Danny knew he was sure in wanting this, he didn't think he would survive not being able to marry him. Especially not when Prince Timothy looked so etherial.

The priest nodded. "Alright. Then I will now-"

The heavy oak doors at the entrance to the main hall were thrown open so violently that they loudly bounced against the wall. Shocked, everyone turned at once. But even before he had turned all the way, a single word made Danny gasp: "Wait!"

He knew that voice. Danny had no idea how she was here, knew that she had been too far to reach here just two days ago, but he knew that voice. He would always recognise it.

He was running down the isle before he'd even fully processed it, meeting her angry steps halfway and swept her into a hug. "Starshine."

"I can't believe," she scolded, not returning his embrace but also not twisting out of it like he knew she could, "that you were just about to marry, and I wasn't even present."

"Only due to circumstances," he simply answered, kissing the forehead under the hood she was wearing, "You know I'd always have you close if I could. After all, you're one of the most important people of my life."

And he was just about to marry another one. With three of his five clan members present now, he realised. Again, something incredibly happy and warm bubbled up inside of his chest.

"Yes, yes. Now! Aren't you going to introduce me? Everyone is wondering by now, I'm sure." With that, she actually twisted out of his grip. Sad at the loss, Danny turned around to where she was walking. When he did, his heart's entire family was standing as well as some guests, all looking uncertain what was happening. Wincing, Danny conceded that she might have a point.

"It looks like," Danny spoke to carry, walking towards the front with his starshine by his side, "we have an unexpected guest."

When they arrived back at the front, Danny turned to her. "May I introduce you by name?"

"With all these people around?" his starshine all but scoffed, "Certainly not. That is for later, in private."

A fair point, Danny conceded. With a nod, he turned back to address his heart and his heart's father and siblings. "This," he explained with a gesture to his side where his starshine offered a curtsy, "is another member of my clan. Some of our guests might have even met her on her travels before: The Head Wanderer, and my sister."

"Also," another familiar voice called from the still open door, "not the only unexpected guest. Just the only one to run ahead of the group. Again."

Chapter Text

"Wait!"

Turning in surprise, all Tim could do was to watch as Danny ran from his side. He only had one second to recognise the infamous mercenary standing there before Danny reached out and- hugged her? Enthusiastically. He was smiling, Tim noticed numbly.

"Starshine," he could hear Danny whisper, voice almost broken with how tender and desperate it sounded. Like a piece of him that he'e sorely missed had just been returned. And Tim… Tim swallowed dry, slowly moving to where his brothers and his father had stood up.

"I can't believe that you were just about to marry, and I wasn't even there," a young woman's voice scolded, even as she relaxed into the embrace. And Danny only smiled even more fondly at her, cradled the back of her head like she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

Tim barely registered Bruce's hand gripping his shoulder in support. Because what?

It had been Danny who proposed this marriage in the first place. All this time he'd been so kind and gentle, and it hadn't even occurred to Tim that he might've had someone else. But this woman was obviously close to him, if she could speak to him like that in front of all these people and he didn't even mind in the slightest.

"Just due to circumstances," he replied softly, but in the shocked silence of the temple it echoed loudly. Tim couldn't help but wonder whether he was these circumstances Danny mentioned. Or maybe the alliance. Had Danny left behind someone he loved so he could marry himself a hostage? That didn't sound like Danny at all, and yet Tim watched as he placed a kiss to her forehead underneath the hood.

"You know I'd always have you close if I could," he heard Danny say, and there had to be a different explanation. There had to be. This couldn't be what it looked like. Right? "After all, you're one of the most important people of my life."

"Yes, yes," the mercenary nodded, sounding faintly bemused, "Now! Aren't you going to introduce me? Everyone is wondering by now, I'm sure."

She twisted out of Danny's grip and Danny just let her. When she started towards the front of the hall, where Danny had left Tim, Danny didn't even bother to catch up. Instead, he seemed completely content to be the one walking behind her.

"It looks like we have an unexpected guest," he announced to the room as though anyone here wasn't painfully aware of the fact already. The only question was, who was this? Or rather who was she to Danny. But when Danny met Tim's eyes there was no guilt hidden there, and Tim relaxed. Because he could imagine many things, but Danny bringing a past lover into their wedding and not feeling guilty about it at all was not one of them.

Not a lover, then. A close friend, maybe? She was rumoured to be incredibly ruthless, after all. She took only the jobs she liked and her loyalty was to the contract not the contractor, she was usually silent and nobody knew her name or her face. Probably a noble who'd been cast out of her family or run away and didn't want to be recognised, as far as the whispers were concerned. And with Danny's own unfortunate past… Well. It would make sense at least if they banded over that.

When she stopped in front of them, she didn't even try to hide how she was watching Tim. He couldn't see her eyes with the hood but the intensity still made him want to squirm. Danny didn't react to that, however, and only asked her: "May I introduce you by name?"

She had the nerve to scoff at Danny, still not turning away from Tim. "With all these people around? Certainly not. That is for later, in private."

So she wouldn't mind if Tim had her name, he noted even as Danny inclined his head in agreement. "This," he said and the woman curtsied, movement perfectly graceful and fluent but head not lowered, "is another member of my clan. Some of our guests might have even met her on her travels before." And, yes, Tim knew for a fact that this was the case. Bart and his entire family among them, and Kon as well. "The Head Wanderer - and my sister."

Tim froze. Because, what?! And, yes, it made sense now that he thought about it, with nobody knowing her face or her name or even her origins. But she was a Child of the Lands? Not only that, but a Wanderer on top of that? The Head Wanderer?

And… Tim glanced over to where Bart watched all of this on obvious shock, face pale as he came to the same realisation as Tim. What had Lord Dantrey said, again? "Oh, don't worry about it - my brother just realised you know our sister."

That was probably how Danny had known so much about the politics of the League, then.

"Also not the only unexpected guest," another woman called from the door, though it mostly sounded fond, "Just the only one to run ahead of the group. Again."

The first thought that crossed Tim's mind when he saw the other woman was just like Pamela Isley. He was sure that every other Gothamite here was also thinking of the woman who'd lost her sanity to Silvad's curse, at least for the first moment.

She was beautiful, with black hair tied up artfully, wooden hair needles worked into them. Her corset seemed to be made out of black bark, her skit from wisteria flowers, draped over each other enough that even as she walked the skirt only shifted slightly, and the gloves looked like they were woven from roots. Her lips were black and her paint green like Sir Tucker's but darker. More emerald than the bright green the man wore.

She must've also been a member of clan Phoenix, Tim thought, because while she did not wear snowflakes but rather sharp spikes, the placement was the exact same, as was the lines running down her temple. And then, Tim gasped. Because hanging from he neck was a pendant with a very familiar family crest.

This was Lady Samantha Mason, he realised. The daughter of a well-known and beloved noble house from Star, whose father had served as an advisor to King Robert and a minister of international affairs. She'd gone missing during the war. It'd been a scandal, and everyone had tried to find her. But nobody could, and she was declared dead.

A man entered behind her, draped in a white cloak that hid almost all of him, secured with golden silk instead of a belt. A long, grey tunic covered him below the cloak, so that not a single sliver of skin was visible. He was silent as he approached beside Lady Mason. Even his steps as they approached made barely a sound.

"A pleasure to meet you, your highnesses, your majesty. I am Canopy, a member of clan Phoenix, and High Priestess of the Ancient Undergrowth." She, too, gave an elegant curtsy without so much as bowing her head.

The man hadn't stopped with her, Tim noticed then. Instead, he'd walked up right to the altar and was - kissing Itiner's symbol?

To Tim's utter surprise, Danny didn't react to Canopy at all. Instead, he turned and gently walked over to the man. There, he waited silently until the other turned, and then fell to his knees in front of him.

He placed his hand above his heart, first as a fist and then flattened it, bowed his head and the sunk down slowly to his knee. His other hand was placed delicately on the ground, his face lowered towards the floor.

A murmur went through the crowd. Tim couldn't even blame them. Why, after all, would Danny, the High Chief, who had never bowed to anyone so far, fall to his knees in front of this man. Just who was that?

"Ek lita til ok næmnæe þik, aldinn barn Sojourn."¹

Tim had understood just one word from that, but he was pretty sure Danny was speaking in what he'd called the ancient language before. But if what he'd heard was right…

Tim glanced over to the other Children of the Land. All of them, except for the two newcomers, were bowing just like Danny was. So Tim took a deep breath and steeled himself. Slowly, carefully, he approached what he figured was an being beyond his own imagination. He didn't dare come as close as Danny was, so he stayed back a good few steps, but he did fall to his knees as well.

Another murmur went through the room, just as unsettled as the first one.

To his surprise, the man only sighed. "Young one," a melodic but slightly raspy voice sounded from beneath the hood, "stop this, please. That polite facade is eery when it is applied to you. Must we really do this every time we meet?"

"Of course, Sojourn. You are an Ancinet, I am a mere mortal, and we are not related."

Why did that sound so pointed? And why was Danny mouthing off to a god? Tim thought he might get sick.

Once again, however, the Ancient only sighed. "Yes, I see." Even though the hood didn't shift, Tim could feel their gaze move over to him now. He froze, trying not to tremble under the sudden pressure he felt. Was his posture alright? He hoped so. "And you, Prince of Gotham, are the one who will marry my nephew?"

"I-"

"He's the one who will marry me," Danny chimed in, drawing the attention of the Ancient back to himself and Tim could suddenly breathe again. Gods… "Though I'm not sure who you thought he would marry. Since I am not your nephew."

Wait. Now that the attention of the Ancient wasn't on Tim, he gasped at the realisation. Sojourn, one of the Ancients, had just called Danny his nephew. And, wore yet, Danny was denying him to his face.

Would Sojourn smite Danny? Would Tim's husband die at their wedding? He hoped not, and with how relaxed Danny seemed it didn't look like it, but…

"Right." Sojourn inclined his head like he was patiently indulging a misbehaving child. Which, from his point of view, probably was exactly what was happening. "I forgot. Now, Prince?"

"Yes-" How did one even address a godlike being when speaking directly to them? "-revered Ancient?"

"Sojourn is fine. Your beloved only stands on ceremony because he knows that it bothers me. I much prefer casual conversation. A familial trait, I think." The Ancient actually waited for Tim to give his small nod before continuing. "First, I apologise for the intrusion. You see, it made my niece-" Danny sighed deeply, almost dramatically. "-so sad that she was about to miss your wedding. Unfortunately, as both my nephews are here at the moment, she had to remain in the capital and govern, after all. So she asked me for a favour and I like indulging her too much to deny her."

"That…" Tim glanced from the cloaked man to his stunned father and to Jason, who was held back by Dick. "…is quite alright. I speak for my entire family when I say that we are honoured to welcome you to Gotham."

"Despite the short notice, huh?" Or rather lack thereof, Tim thought but didn't dare voice as much. "That is very kind of you. Then, since you do not mind me being here, I would like to ask one more thing of my gracious host. You see, I intend to resume my travels once I have seen you all safely beyond the Cursed Lands. As this means I will be here for the duration of your wedding, would you mind terribly if I were to stay for this ceremony? I know you intended to marry only before the gods today, but I had hoped, since I am already here and will not make it to your second wedding ceremony…"

And what was Tim to do? Deny the Ancient in front of him? Thank you, but Tim actually liked Gotham's continued existence.

So Tim braced himself and looked up to answer him. And when he did, he could see just below the hood from this angle. A sharp jaw and what looked like greenish skin. And a smirk. The kind that Tim had seen dozens of times before, on nobles and on his brothers. He knew, Tim realised. Tim had no choice but to welcome him into the ceremony and Sojourn knew, had probably counted on it.

Tim didn't know what the Ancient wanted with him, with Gotham. Why would he shove Tim into a corner like this? Something uncomfortable settled into his stomach. At the same time, though, what did it matter? Tim still had as little choice as he'd had before this realisation.

"If it would please you," he smiled as serenely as he could, "we would be delighted to have the honour of knowing you in attendance at our wedding ceremony, and of course also the banquet afterwards. I regret to say that I'm not sure we can provide you with adequate hospitality, however. I hope you can generously forgive us for the slight."

A low chuckle sounded from underneath the hood. "Oh, no need to worry about that, dear one. I simply enjoy the company. There is no need to go out of your way for me. I am a traveling soul, you see, much like my dear mother. Most of my life is spent traversing her roads or exploring wilderness where only Silvad has been before. So whatever you consider inadequate I can assure you it will be a luxury I am not used to."

"Thank you for your understanding," Tim nodded, "That is very reassuring to hear."

"Then," Sojourn exclaimed with finality, clapping his hands together and angling his head to the two women he'd come in with, "This interruption has gone on for more than enough. My darling niece, my brother's firend, come. Let us be seated and bear witness to this joyous occasion."

Not waiting for the two of them, Sojourn turned on his heel and sat down next to Lord Dantrey. Where… Tim could have sworn hadn't been any free space just before he went. But Danny's sister simply turned on her heal and sat on Sojourn's other side, as though it was both completely normal to sit beside an Ancient. Canopy, on the other hand, turned around to where Tim and Danny had just risen back to their feet. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly looked Tim up and down.

Tim knew neither what she'd been looking for nor whether she'd found it. But in the end, Canopy gave a hum that didn't tell Tim anything and turned as well, finding a seat a few rows down where Sir Tucker scooted over to make space.

"I'm sorry," Danny's soft voice pulled Tim out of his still overwhelmed musings. "My clan is impossible, sometimes. And dramatic. I know they can be a lot, but…"

When he looked over to the three new comers, his gaze was heart-wrenchingly soft. A smile played with his lips, and his shoulders relaxed. Did he know, Tim wondered? Was it that he didn't even know how easily he showed his adoration for his family? Or did he just not care who knew? Tim knew the reason royals and even nobles didn't usually show their care for their loved ones this obviously in public was that it made those loved ones a target. Danny, he supposed, did not need to care about that.

It was not that people could get to Danny through his clan. It was that people would have to get through Danny to touch his loved ones - and Tim could not even imagine how far he would go in their defence and revenge. For some reason, however, this wasn't a scary thought but rather a comforting one.

No. Not for some reason. Tim knew exactly why.

Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that every single one of his movements were watched and probably judged by a godlike being. It didn't matter that he still wasn't over his shock from when Danny's sister had interrupted the ceremony. He didn't even care about the political implications this union held or what it meant for Gotham's future. All that matter to Tim in that moment was that Danny stood before him, that the interruption was dealt with - and that Tim could marry him now.

"I think I look forward," Tim whispered, feeling bold and taking Danny's hand in his, "to being part of that clan, soon."

"Not just of my clan," Danny mused, though Tim thought he could see the hints of a blush, "You'll be part of my family, too."

Family.

Duke Drake would have laughed at the notion. Duchess Drake would have balked at it.

He could just imagine it, the way the two of them would have scoffed and later, in the privacy of their manor, vented about it. A tired tirade from his mother about how that was not the point of marriage, about how only the weak would think like that and about how ridiculous Danny had looked showing how much he liked the idea.

Family is those you have obligations for, he could almost hear his father proclaim, not what you make it. He would have let his wife prattle on and on about how the one to fall in love, the one to show weakness was the one who had already lost. How marriage was either using the other one or being used. And then he would have turned to Tim and firmly looked at him. Marriage is and always has been a financial proposition. People with duties like ours do not get to entertain such feeble ideas like love. You will marry who you must, and you will put in the work to find happiness there. But you will not delude yourself. That, my son, is what truly hurts you. That false hope.

Tim had always thought that his father had spoken from experience when he'd said things like that. His mother had too, perhaps, but mainly she'd talked about her own opinions.

So, yes. Tim's parents, both of them in this rare instance, would have felt indignant about Danny's understanding of marriage. Tim, however? He felt warmth bloom inside his chest, like the sun rising, or the warmth of Alfred's comforting tea.

Squeezing Danny's hand a bit tighter, he pulled his fiancé and almost husband back in front of the altar. "Well, let's not keep delaying, then."

"Right," Danny agreed, not looking away from Tim even once as they took their places once more. It made Tim blush again, being looked at by Danny like he'd somehow entranced the other man. "Let's finally get married."

After a moment, the priest cleared his throat. "Then… Shall I continue?"

The man glanced in the direction of where Sojourn sat and swallowed dryly. Tim felt bad for him, almost. It must feel incredibly disrespectful to be the one conducting a ceremony in front of a being that was revered as a god. Then again, it wasn't like he could offer passing on the rights to conduct the ceremony, either, since Sojourn was neither officially acknowledged by the church nor an official member of the clergy.

But when Tim gave him a firm nod, the priest nodded back and took up the rope once more.

"Then I will now begin with the hand-fastening." He rounded the altar so he could reach them. Carefully, he held the ropes above them. Tim held out his left hand so that Danny could offer his right one. He didn't want Danny to have to offer his injured hand, after all.

Almost gently, the priest laid the rope above their joined hands. "From this day forth," he spoke as he twisted one end of the rope around Tim's forearm, "these two shall be united. All of us down here and the Seven Gods above bear witness to this union." He twisted the other end of the rope around Danny's forearm.

"You will be united by the wishes of those who came in support-" The first knot was tied below their hands. "-and by your own choices that brought you in front of the gods today-" A second knot, this time above their hands. "-as well as both by the will of Itiner-" A knot in the direction of the guests. "-and the will of Novitate." The fourth and last knot was tied in the direction of the altar, then the rest of the rope was draped carefully across their arms and tied once more at the ends where it would hover just above the floor.

"The ties have been created," the priest exclaimed, "and can never be broken again once you accept them. Prince Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne of Gotham, third son to King Bruce of Gotham, only child of the late Duke Drake. Do you accept this bond, to have and to cherish alike?"

"I accept," Tim answered, lips numb but voice and heart sure.

"And High Chief Phantom of the Infinite Lands, King of the Zone of Death, Child blessed by the Cursed Lands, do you accept this bond, to have and to cherish alike?"

"I accept it," Danny nodded.

Chapter Text

The rest of the ceremony happened without interruptions, fortunately.

After the handfastening, which honestly felt like a strange ritual to Danny, the priest gave a short speech. Something about how this day was important and how it was the beginning of a new era. Something about the gods, too, Danny thinks, but he wasn't really paying attention. His husband - his husband! - was listening to the priest, Danny could tell, but he himself was too focused on the warmth of his skin against his own.

Prince Timothy always looked beautiful, but right there, in front of the altar, he had the faintest blush and his eyes were sparkling with tears. Danny would be scared about that but the smile that stretched his husband's - husband, they were married now - lips was too wide for them to be anything other than tears of joy.

He must have looked utterly besotted, he thought. Standing there, adoring the sight of his spouse - spouse as in husband - while the ceremony still went on around them. But he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. He adored the prince, and he didn't mind anyone noticing. They were married to each other, after all. And, Ancients, Danny was married now!

"Your Highness, your Majesty. Please step forward to make your oaths now."

Startled out of his thoughts, Danny allowed himself to be dragged forward to the altar by their bound wrists. Now facing away from each other and towards the priest together, they were told to place their free hand on the stone. The Prince did right away, and after watching how to do it Danny moved to do the same. He froze just before touching the stone, hand hovering there.

Danny wasn't wearing his gloves.

He had completely forgotten about that. But there would be a ring exchange later, right? And the ring belonged on the left hand. He'd promised not to wear gloves today, so he had no magic protection.

What he'd said back then hadn't been a lie. Until Tucker had enchanted those gloved for him he'd fought without protection on his wounds. He was able to. He'd fought his way through the Cursed Lands back to Amity without them, he'd jumped through time on Clockwork's quests without them, he'd fought Ellie and saved her without them, he'd fought half of the uprising without them.

Danny didn't need the gloves.

So why could he not make himself touch his hand to the altar? It was just some old wound. And, yes, it was made by the curse of the river Death. Yes, it would never completely close, even if it wasn't bleeding anymore, and would never heal. But he'd survived that. And he'd learned to deal with the pain. A few years wearing gloves so he couldn't feel it shouldn't be enough to make him this… this…

A gentle squeeze to his right hand had Danny look up at his husband. A gentle smile marked his lips, concern shining bright in his eyes. "If it's too much…"

Danny took a deep breath in, then shook his head. "I can do it."

"You don't have to. It looks like you're touching it, so…"

It was sweet. But Danny neither wanted his husband to worry like this nor did he want to force him to give up traditions when Danny could compl with them perfectly well. So he took another deep breath and placed his injured hand onto the cool stone.

Pain. That was all he knew for a moment. He was pretty sure he had gripped the hand of his husband too tight not to hurt and he had to grit his teeth not to let out a pained whimper. But he managed to keep standing, hand placed on the stone and burning but able to breathe through it.

Ancients, he'd forgotten how bad it was.

"Danny, really, you don't-"

"It's fine," he reassured and though he probably sounded clipped, he managed to keep the pain out of his voice, "Just not used to it. Priest, if you would?"

"Then…" The man turned to his prince, glancing over to Danny again. When he received a firm nod, he cleared his throat. "Your Highness first. Repeat after me, please." Danny's heart nodded and the priest offered a small smile. "By my name and by the grace of the gods…"

"By my name and by the grace of the gods…" Danny's heart repeated seriously, steady, and Danny couldn't help but blend the priest out again to listen to the much nicer cadence of his heart's voice. "…I hereby swear to stand by the side of my husband for the rest of my days, to be his as he is mine, to cherish and to support him, with all I am and all I have."

Nodding, the priest turned to Danny next. "Now your Majesty."

Danny took a deep breath, squeezing the hand still bound to his to ground himself and nodded toward the priest.

"By my name and by the grace of the gods…"

Was this alright? Danny had many names, after all, being a Child of the Lands now. Also, the gods didn't really show Danny any grace, so… Then again, this was a wedding in front of the gods and by Gotham tradition. "By my true name and by the grace of the gods and Ancients…"

If that had been too daring, neither the priest nor his heart let it show.

"…I hereby vow to stand by the side of my husband for the rest of our shared days…"

Huh? Wasn't that different to the vow before? But when he glanced at his heart he only got an encouraging smile. So Danny repeated, eyes still on his husband: "I hereby vow to stand by the side of my husband, for the rest of our shared days."

"…to be his as he his mine…"

"To be his as he is mine."

"…to protect and take care of him…"

Yes, definitely different. But it seemed harmless enough of a change, and Danny didn't want to disrupt their ceremony again for something like this, so he just kept repeating. "To protect and to take care of him."

"…with all my strength and all I have."

"With all my strength and all I have."

Solemnly, the priest nodded. "To make sure this union will be remembered for the rest of time, by generations present and generations future alike, I ask you to now sign your marriage contract."

When the priest took out a parchment with fancy script on it, Danny didn't hesitate to take the offered feather, glad that he was well-used to writing with his right hand by now and even more glad when the prince just allowed him to pull their joined wrists toward the paper. Hand hovering there, h hesitated only for a second, unsure which name to use, before he decided to write Danny with his best attempt at the fancy letters his mother had tried to teach him and Phantom as he usually signed it.

"You didn't even read it," his heart gasped when he offered the feather to him.

"Why would I need to read it?" he asked in the same hushed volume, "It's just written down what we've already agreed on, right? Besides, I trust you."

Smile deepening, the prince took the feather, his hand lingering against Danny's for a moment. He only glanced away to sign the contract himself and set down the feather before turning all the way towards Danny again. Elated that he was apparently allowed to face his freshly named husband again, Danny did the same.

"Thank you. Next, we will exchange rings as a sign of your bong to carry with you when you are apart," the priest announced and opened a chest that had apparently also been stored beneath the altar. Inside, placed gently on a velvet cushion, were two rings. Simple, smooth and golden. They looked like they were newly forged, but Danny didn't have enough experience with jewellery to know for certain.

He was grateful when Prince Timothy took one of the rings first. After all, he didn't know much about how this was supposed to go. When his heart held the ring up, though, he looked at Danny nervously. Questioningly, he glanced from Danny's left hand - his injured hand to his face and back. How sweet of him, to be concerned. Smiling, Danny raised his hand.

The prince Gently took it, and Danny even managed to hold in the pained gasp at the contact. The old wounds, still open like the day he got them, burned as the prince gently held on to it. When the gold band was slipped onto his finger, Danny wasn't quite so strong. He winced, hissing at the sharp sting that made him want to cry out. When his husband was about to withdraw his hand, however, Danny forced himself to grab onto it. His own hand burned and ached with pain, and he was sure it was shaking, but he managed to hold on to it as he raised the prince's hand to his lips and kissed first his heart's knuckles and then the wedding band.

"I'm fine, my heart. It looks worse than it is."

"It looks like it hurts," his heart accused, his lips turning down in obvious disapproval, "Please, don't force yourself to endure pain for this. We are already married. These steps are just symbolic."

"Maybe," Danny allowed with a tilt of his head.

He couldn't help but think about Dan's adoption ceremony, though. How much each little step had meant to him. All the superstitions Danny scoffed at, and the relief and joy his fright felt when he indulged them anyways. The customs and traditions he'd made his own, too, how grounding they felt and how connected they made him. Vaguely he remembered, too, how his parents would dance through the living room in the fortress and retold all the little details of their own elopement.

He didn't want to take that from his husband. Not over something like this.

"It's important to your people, though, to see it," Danny tried, and maybe he was a coward for using that angle to convince his husband. He felt a bit guilty for it, but it worked like Danny knew it would. After all, his husband was a gentle soul who cared about his people like Danny cared about his fright.

So the prince didn't protest anymore as Danny took the second ring in a trembling grip, carefully concentrating on not letting it fall. Gently, Danny raised their bound hands and placed the ring onto his husband's finger. Gently, Danny kissed that ring, too, and then his own again.

"Lastly," the priest said once the moment had ebbed away, "I will ask the representatives to step forward to cut the rope and give their blessing to this union."

King Bruce stood wordlessly. He calmly walked over to them, taking the ceremonial dagger the priest offered and cut the rope facing the altar and the one facing up swiftly. He made eye contact with Danny for just a second before turning to his son. Gently, lovingly, the King placed a kiss on his temple. "I'm proud of you," he whispered, and then, "You'll always be my little boy."

They stayed like that for a long moment. Then, the king took a deep breath and stepped back. Carefully, slowly, he bowed to Danny. And, well, Danny wasn't sure what exactly the king was asking him for. He was also extremely sure a ruler wasn't supposed to bow his head this arbitrarily. He knew this because Dora had explicitly forbidden him from doing so when he'd started to get what she'd called "basic etiquette training". And even then, again, what reason did the king have to bow to Danny right now anyways? What could he be asking for, bowing like that.

Danny knew the rules surrounding bowing were different here. He'd seen it used to exchange greetings with someone they respected, for example. But they'd been in this room together all this time, so he was pretty sure that wasn't it. So it had to be the same as back home, right?

Danny really wished the king would just say what he was pleading for. But he didn't raise his head, didn't say a thing, just waited Danny out.

"You don't need to do that," Danny finally tried, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He hated when people lowered themselves to him to ask for something. Then, when the king only raised his head without coming up from the bow, he added: "You are my father-in-law now. That makes you part of my family, and I am not in the habit of making my family bow to me."

King Bruce pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded and stood back up. "Please, High Chief," he finally said, voice earnest and eyes shining, "take care of my son."

Oh. Of course. Danny felt himself soften, knowing that in the end the King was also just a father who'd just allowed his son to marry. And, yes, the prince would keep being a prince as per their agreement. Still, he would be far away soon. Of course he would be worried about Prince Timothy.

"Always," Danny promised out loud and vowed to himself silently that he would live up to the faith his father-in-law had in him. He would make sure that his husband would lack nothing, of course, but he would also make sure the king would always know he had nothing to fear.

Seemingly happy with the resolve Danny was showing, the King nodded and stepped away. In his stead came… Ellie? Wasn't Dan supposed to do this?

But Ellie just shrugged at Danny's confused glance towards their brother. "I told him to sit back down."

Instead of taking the dagger like the king had earlier, Ellie watched the two of them carefully. Then, she leaned in close to Danny's husband and whispered something in his ear. Danny couldn't hear what it was, but it couldn't have been bad because the Prince only nodded in answer. Seemingly satisfied with this, Ellie finally took the dagger and cut the remaining knots.

She curtsied again, thankfully not lowering herself. Instead, she met the eyes of Danny's heart, even if only beneath her hood. "Welcome to the family, my new brother. And congratulations on finally finding someone to marry, my longest brother."

Danny's husband was about to bow but Danny held him back with his right hand, the cut rope falling to the ground with the movement. "Don't," he gently requested, "Never bow your head to family. Just say what you want to."

For a long moment, his heart just met his eyes. Then, he nodded. Turning back to Ellie, he leaned forward a bit in the approximation of a bow but didn't lower his head. "Thank you for accepting me as part of it."

Ellie mustered Danny's husband first and then Danny. He could just tell, too, that she was judging him for something. Danny didn't know what, but it was probably deserved if it came from Ellie. Ellie was, after all, the socially graceful one amongst the three siblings.

Sighing, she waved as she turned away. "We'll work on it, I suppose."

Work on what? The bowing? Because, yes, Danny was confused why his husband had felt the need to bow right then, too, but he didn't really think it deserved that reaction. Did it? Also, somehow he got the feeling that Ellie was talking to him. So.

"With this, the ceremony is over. You may now have your first kiss."

The priest's voice had Danny's breath catch in his throat. Because, well, he might have forgotten about that a little. Just a bit. And it wasn't as if that was a bad thing. At all, actually. It wasn't Danny's first kiss, either. He'd kissed plenty people before. Well, maybe not plenty but enough. So he really shouldn't be this nervous to kiss his husband.

Oh, Ancients. His husband. Because he was married. And he now had a husband he could kiss. And that husband was none other than Prince Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne of Gotham, too!

Danny felt a bit like his heart might burst. A little like he might cry, too. And like he would absolutely swoop his husband into his arms.

Well, he wouldn't actually do that last one. Gotham was a nation of strong knights and stronger royalty. There was no way that Danny's heart - his husband - would like being treated like a damsel in distress. Maybe in private he'd indulge Danny, but out in public like this he probably wouldn't appreciate his own strength being undermined.

Still, Danny felt like he couldn't just stand here calmly and-

"My dear?" A soft hand caressed Danny's cheek, making him turn his head back towards his husband, who smiled at him nervously but happily. A thumb gently caressed Danny's lower lip, and he found himself entranced by the sight of his husband's gaze lowering to them. "I believe a kiss is in order, yes?"

Immediately, Danny captured his heart's face in his hands, leaning in and sealing their lips together. It probably should have been a sweet kiss, all considering. But in that moment Danny couldn't help but kiss his husband desperately. All the excitement, the joy, the pure feeling that was too overwhelming to even name forced its way into the kiss, and Danny would have been helpless to stop it, even if he'd wanted to.

His heart did not hesitate to kiss him back, either. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee, and he smelled like sandalwood and vanilla. If that was all Danny would ever get to sense ever again, he thought, he would be perfectly content with that. But then the kiss ended and as they parted he opened his eyes, found his husband flushed and blue eyes so close and adoring, and that sight proved him wrong immediately. Because how could he ever be happy again if this was the last time he got to see this?

He suddenly, desperately, wanted to be as close as he could to this man. Forever. His heart hurt with how right it felt, holding his in his arms as their breaths tangled together.

"We're married," the young prince whispered against Danny's lips, "My dear, we're married."

"I know," he whispered, smiling even as he nearly cried. Softly, gently, he placed another kiss against his husband's lips. "I know, husband."

Danny's heart gripped the hand that'd just been bound to his own, tangling their fingers together. When Danny felt the ring sitting on his husband's finger, his breath caught once more. His heart didn't wait for him to remember how to do something so overrated as breathing, either, before gently pulling him down the isle towards the main door. "Come now," he demanded on a giddy giggle, "we have the celebrate this."

"Of course," Danny agreed readily. Silently, only in his mind, he promised: I'd follow you anywhere.

Chapter Text

The High Chief was awfully collected as the guests gathered for the banquet. Calm and somewhat distant, barely showing any emotion at all while more and more nobles entered the banquet hall. His eyes, though, lingered on Tim the entire time. He'd done that during the ceremony as well, staring wordlessly or having hushed conversations with Tim.

Tim didn't seem to mind, and Bart was sure that was the only reason why Kon had yet to do something rash and brave like challenge the man to a duel. Well, that and probably also the deity watching them.

Bart had no idea, actually, why they'd asked an Ancient to come to the ceremony. But they must have, judging by the Ancient's words and by the fact that he probably wouldn't have bothered with any of this otherwise.

Bart's family was blessed by Itiner. He'd kissed her symbol earlier, and touching that symbol randomly would have been a great offence from anyone else, but… Well. He claimed to be the son of one of the gods, too. He'd called her "his dear mother". It must have been Itiner, then, right? The goddess he was related to? Bart wondered what that meant for his family. And whether it even meant anything at all.

The High Chief, Bart noticed as he ate another one of the snacks prepared for before dinner, kept his expressions and reactions small. It hadn't seemed that way to him when he'd first met the man yesterday, but watching him today it was obvious. His smile was more of a twitch of the mouth, his confusion barely more than his eyebrows drawing together for the blink of an eye and a tilt of his head. All his reactions were like that. Soft, almost. Easy to miss, certainly.

A bit like a predator, Bart thought with a hum to himself. It was eery, really, seeing him express so much with almost no movement. His eyes and his paint was glowing, and so were the stoned woven into his hair. With the light colours he'd chosen for his wedding the effect was even more obvious. He drew the eye automatically, and you had to really pay attention to read him.

Glancing over to where the Ancient stood with his back to the wall, casually observing the mingling guests, Bart swallowed. Even from here he could feel the power coming from beneath the cloak. He knew his dad could feel it, too. The others didn't seem to be quite as attuned to it, and Bart wondered again what his own connection to Itiner meant in this situation.

A soft turn of the hood and Bart could have sworn he saw a pair of bright golden eyes flash as they focused on him for just a moment. Once he blinked it was over, but he could still feel the Ancient's eyes on him. Even if he couldn't see them beneath the hood again.

Forcing himself to keep breathing, Bart bowed in the direction of the foreign deity. The other inclined his head, and Bart thought he could see a smirk beneath the hood. Impossible, seeing as almost the entirety of the unnecessarily large banquet hall was between them. And still, something inside of him compelled him to make his way over to the other. He didn't use his speed, and not only for reasons of politeness, and et it seemed as though he was in front of the Ancient much sooner than he should have been.

"Revered Sojourn," he greeted the Ancient, bowing again - deeper this time, "It's an honour to meet the son of Itiner personally. I am-"

"The child my dear mother likes so much," the Ancient interrupted softly, a smile in his voice, "I am aware. It makes her very happy to talk about your travels. We have spend a lot of time talking about your journeys and what you have experienced there."

"Oh." It made something warm bloom in Bart's chest, not only knowing that his family's patron goddess knew of him but also approved of what she'd seen. He'd honestly never imagined something like this might happen.

"Becoming a mercenary is a tradition amongst the royal house of Centralia, yes?"

Bart nodded, suddenly feeling shy about it. "I- Yes. We… Since it was Itiner that blessed us we try to get closer to her when we're young. And since our ancestor met her while working as a mercenary, well…"

Sojourn seemed to approve with the way he nodded. "Isra West, yes. I remember her. For a time, as she was growing used to her new blessing, I even joined her on her travels. Not that I told her who I was, mind you, but she was kind to me either way. I always did suspect she might have known… I also remember she was very much in love with that one boy. Ilijus Allen, I think? He was another mercenary we traveled with. They fought well together, but the boy only had eyes for a different woman. Some countess. They married, if I remember right, and Isra became happy with… someone else." Mustering Bart, the Ancient smiled. "Is it not funny? All those centuries, and their lineages have found together in your parents at last. Two of the three families my mother blessed with almost the same blessing."

Bart, who hadn't known any of that, smiled politely. "Well, my father always says it was fate that brought them together."

"Possibly," Sojourn hummed, inclining his head, "My dear mother is one of the goddesses of fate, after all. It is very much possible she wrote your ancestors' destiny that way. I can not confirm it, however, I am afraid. She does not talk to me about such things, and it is my cousin who took on keeping watch over time and fate in our generation. I have no connections to those things."

"You're the Patron of Travellers, if I understood that right?" It might be daring to ask that, but he probably wouldn't ever get another opportunity like this. And all Allens were curious to a fault.

"It is what the humans call me," Sojourn sighed, "Though really, I like to think of myself as a simple traveler myself. One who collects and preserves stories of times long past. Like this." He gestured to the room steadily filling up. "I am certain I will tell many people the story of today in the future. I just hope it will be one with a happy ending. Tragedies are always so sad to recall…"

"I…" Bart swallowed, watching where Tim and the High Chief stood, greeting some noble Bart didn't know. "I hope that, too."

The Ancient hummed, looking over in the same direction as Bart. "While I, myself, do try not to get involved with the course history takes too much, my cousin has a vested interest in changing its trajectory. And he greatly favours my young nephew. So I would not fear too much, would I travel in your shoes."

Relieved, Bart let out a deep breath. That was good to know, actually. He'd been scared, everything considered. But a deity, even if not the same one Bart prayed to, would watch over them. Of course the Keeper of Fate favouring the High Chief didn't mean they would help Tim, but at least they would probably help them and make sure they didn't encounter something too terrible. At least while they were together. And seeing as the two of them were married now, they would probably be together a lot.

"Now," Sojourn smiled, clapping his gloved hands together with a dull thud, "You had a question for me, did you not? As much as I appreciate the small talk, I cannot answer lest you ask, young prince."

Ah. Had he really been so obvious? He offered an apologetic smile to the Ancient, even if he didn't seem like it had upset him. Then, Bart took another fortifying breath. "As the Patron of Travellers," he carefully began, "you're also the one protecting the Wanderers, right?"

"They do wear my colours and ask for my guidance, yes." The Ancient inclined his head again, carefully observing Bart for a long, frightening moment. "This is about my niece?"

"I-" Bart swallowed, not sure how to word this without offending the deity. "When we traveled together, I had no idea she was from the Infinite Lands. We were… close. At least I thought so. And I just…"

"She did not hide it to hurt you," Sojourn answered, even though Bart had not even found the proper words to ask yet, "Nor did she have any nefarious plans to get close to you. She merely enjoyed your company, and viewed you as a friend."

"Oh." That was good to know, of course. Still, the unsettled feeling he'd had ever since the High Chief had told them just who she was didn't abade. "Then why…?"

"The war was barely over when you first met," Sojourn gently reminded him, "Telling people just where she came from would have been awfully unwise of her, would it not?"

"I-" Alright, yes. Bart probably would have reacted very differently to her if he'd known. They hadn't had the best of beginnings anyways. "But after? If it was real, if we were really friends, why did she keep lying to me?"

There was a long pause. Finally, Sojourn sighed, and Bart, remembering just who he was whining to, flinched at the sound. "I think," the Ancient hesitantly spoke, gesturing towards the entrance, "you would not be ill-advised to ask my niece herself. All I shall tell you is… I do not believe, young prince, that she had considered it to be lying at all."

Bart bristled, was about to deny that much at least, when Sojourn gestured once again towards the entrance. More insistently this time. Following the gesture with his eyes, Bart found the young woman in question entering.

She'd excused herself earlier to change out of her travel clothes. Those were the only clothes Bart had ever seen her wear, though. Even when meeting with royalty or attending some fancy celebration, she'd always worn something like that cloak and riding leathers, so he'd had no idea what to expect. Even if he would have imagined what she would change into, it probably wouldn't have been this, though.

She was wearing a beautiful dress tonight. The dress was fashioned like traditional Gothamite fashion, off the shoulder and with a corset and multiple layers of skirts. It was made of silk, as far as Bart could tell, though it looked just a bit too shimmery. Green, the same shade of it as the High Chief's eyes for the skirt and a deeper, almost black shade for the corset and the accents on the skirt and train. The embroidery, feathers and laurels and a phoenix, were made from golden thread. Around her upper arm she wore a cuff that resembled the one Lord Dantrey was wearing, though her claws were made from nacre rather than the ruby of her brother's jewellery.

The most astonishing part, though, was that she wasn't wearing a hood. Bart had never seen her without a hood or a scarf to cover her mouth before. He knew her eyes were bright blue and her hair raven, but he'd never seen her without anything concealing her face. Right now, though, all she wore was the same face paint as her brothers, though hers was a pure white.

It was her, though. If the same hairstyle she always insisted on wearing - tiny strands twisted back to form a high pony tail that she wore as a bubble braid - hadn't been telling enough then the way she entered would have been. She was probably the only person Bart knew who would push open the door, curtsy to the room without even halting her steps and then immediately draw a knife from who knew where just to lazily spin it in her hand.

This time, she stoped in front of the High Chief and Tim, shooting them a crocked but honest smile and twirling once. To the utter delight of the High Chief, apparently, who laughed and clapped enthusiastically. The man wore gloves again now, a pair suiting his boots, so the sound was dulled. Still, he didn't bother to make it silent. "The most precious princess in all of existence," he laughed.

And, right. She was a princess, wasn't she? Technically, he suddenly remembered her saying long ago, I'm also related to royalty, I guess. Not that it matters much - all my relatives are idiots anyways. And it's not like anyone has a crown right now.

He'd assumed, back then, that she'd meant her family had once been royalty. With her hiding everything about her past even as she made a name for herself so incredibly young, everyone had assumed she was related to some prominent noble house anyways. It wasn't strange for one of them to have been royalty once. Princes and princesses married out of the royal house, too, if they were further down the line, and sometimes the royal houses changed after an uprising. But he never would have assumed she meant that her family had taken the throne and the coronation just hadn't happened yet. Because in that case it very much mattered.

Elle, the Elle that Bart knew, was a free spirited person. She went where she wanted, she took the jobs she wanted and she said what she wanted. Nobody had managed to force her into anything. Not into divulging any secrets nor into agreeing to anything. Whoever tried would always wind up unable to try a second time. Either she ruined them thoroughly and mercilessly by bringing all their shady secrets to light, or she would somehow scare them into staying far, far away from her. She was a good ally to have, and a horrible enemy.

But Elle was fun to be around. She was full of wonder for the world around her, learned all she could from anyone she met, she had connections and friends in the strangest places all with the least likely story as to how she'd met them. She could laugh and make jokes in the face of horrible monsters, and she offered silent comfort to those who'd lost someone dear. She didn't care for decorum or for etiquette, though she knew more than enough to embarrass anyone who tried to make her look uneducated.

Elle had shown up just after the war, an eleven year old girl who worked as a dayworker, then a bounty hunter and finally made a name for herself as a mercenary. Nobody had known her name, she'd denied anyone the right to know. They'd started calling her "the moon-lion", a mixture of Astri's and Letate's symbols. Some said it was because she was shady and a liar, like anyone under Astri's protection. Some said it was because she was fierce and loyal and strong like the virtues of Letate. Most knew it was because she was hiding herself in Astri's shadows and fought like Letate herself had taught her.

You can call me Elle. That's a nickname my idiot brothers gave me. Only you, though. Don't let anyone else know, alright? I'll be mad if you do.

Bart had thought they were friends. Sojourn seemed to think Elle hiding who she was didn't matter. Now, Bart didn't know what to think anymore.

Blue eyes met his across the room, and a smile stretched painted lips. She said something to her brother, waved and immediately rushed over to Bart. She didn't look like someone who felt vindictive. She didn't look like someone who'd just shattered Bart's heart, either, though.

When he turned to excuse himself from Sojourn, he found that he stood alone. The Ancient had slipped away when Bart had been distracted, and Bart had neither the time nor a reason to search for him. He could see someone stoping in front of him out of the corner of his eye.

"Why, hello there, my not-so-distant friend."

It was strange, hearing her say that. But it was very much like her, too. She'd disappeared one day, as suddenly as she'd appeared. A year ago now, was it? She'd said her brother needed her for some annoying but important ceremony and that she would bully the idiot into actually going through with it. She'd promised to write to him, too, and she'd kept her word, like she always did. Those letters always started that way, too. My dear, distant friend.

Were they friends, despite this? Really? Was it fair of Bart to doubt her, after everything?

Mustering a smile, Bart turned around to meet her gaze. She looked… happy. To be here. To see him, maybe. She always did look happy to see him. And…

"My brother just realised you know our sister. He is very protective of his family, you know? Overprotective, in fact."

"She is very fond of you."

"Hey there," Bart greeted her wryly, "cloaked stranger. Or, well, not so cloaked now, I guess?"

Elle sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "I wish! I've worn that stupid hood so long now that I feel more comfortable with it than without. But this is a wedding, so painting it is for today. Though I've got to say, it feels awful strange. Only my clan usually sees me like this, so…" She shrugged.

"So…" Bart glanced over to the High Chief, who was just carefully rearranging Tim's brooch. "The High Chief's sister, huh? That's… new."

"It's really not," Elle shrugged, "The idiot adopted me as his sister before he even started the revolution. It's been six years now, so most of my life."

What? "Aren't you…" Bart quickly did the math in his head. "…sixteen by now?"

"Ah. Yeah…" Elle smiled like she always did when she didn't want to talk about something. It was weird to see without some part of her face hidden from sight, but it was also incredibly her. So Bart didn't press further. "Anyways! I know I've told you about the both of them. The socially incompetent idiot-" She pointed at the literal High Chief of the Infinite Lands as she said that, then moved to point at Lord Dantrey where he was scowling and watching them, as Bart noticed with a start. "-and the muscle-brained moron."

Startled, almost chocked, Bart laughed. "Yes, well. I never would have imagined you meant those two when you said that."

"Meh, you just don't know them well enough. That's the most accurate description I can give for either of them." She grinned at him, then turned to watch something in the crowd. Standing next to him and bobbing up and down on the soles of her feet, Elle hesitated only for a moment before she asked, softer this time: "So. How mad are you?"

"Why do you think I'm mad?" he countered, maybe a bit more snide than was strictly necessary, "Because you lied to me basically since I've known you?"

"I didn't lie, Bart," Elle said, and as she did she met his eyes steadily. She kept the eye contact a bit longer, as if to make sure Bart actually understood. Then, she turned to look away again. She always did observe some scenery when they talked about things that made her uncomfortable, Bart remembered with a sharp pain in his chest. "It's… Things were complicated and tensions were high. They've always been, so my people have always made a point of hiding where we came from. I guess I should have told you, but it's such a mess and it definitely would have caused an incident if I'd gotten hurt and someone knew and it would have put you in an awkward position, having to keep that secret."

"Because you spied on me?"

"No!" With the sudden cry, Elle all but whirled around to face Bart. She grabbed him by the shoulders, but softly. Her eyes were pleading as she looked at him, and everything in her body read like shock and horror. "No, Bart, never. Whatever important information I overheard being around you, whatever sensitive stuff I know about Centralia - about any of the kingdoms I've visited - I've never told anyone. That's not- Did you think that's what I am? What the Wanderers are?"

Surprised by her strong reaction, Bart nodded numbly. If not a spy network, what then?

Elle hung her head, sighing as deeply as Bart had ever heard from her. "That- I-" She took a deep breath, releasing Bart so she could pinch the bridge of her nose. "Okay. So my brother explained in the worst possible way and gave everyone the wrong idea. Of course he did. I don't know what I expected of that absolute idiot."

"What… did he explain poorly?" Bart cautiously asked.

Elle straightened back up, took another deep breath and took two glasses of wine from a passing by servant. With a quick nod of thanks to the man, she pressed one of the glasses into Bart's hand and searched through the crowd for someone. Wordlessly but determined, she pulled Bart along. Soon, they arrived at where Kon was arguing with a noble from the Gotham-Metropolis-border. Someone close to Luthor, if Bart wasn't wrong.

"Hello to you, good sir, and goodbye. I'm going to kidnap the prince now, please and thank you," Elle casually announced, pressing the second glass into Kon's hand and pulling their surprised friend with her under the sputtering disagreement of the noble in question.

"I- What?" Kon looked from Bart, who could only shrug, to Elle who still seemed to be on a war-path. She led the three of them to an alcove, took another glass of wine from a different servant and stood in front of the two of them.

"Alright. Bart just told me that the idiot they had the nerve to crown-" Again, she causally pointed in the vague direction of the High Chief. "-somehow managed to explain the concept of Wanderers so bad that you though we were spies. That's not true."

"Okay…?" Kon looked from Bart to Elle and back. "Uhm, first, can we talk about why you didn't tell us you were related to the High Chief?"

"Bart and I already did that," Elle waved Kon off, "It's your own fault for missing it. I always tell you, just ditch the annoying nobles. If all they do is talk nonsense then nobody has time to listen to them anyways."

"It was complicated and she didn't want to make it weird?" Bart summarised for Kon, shrugging, "But, apparently, she only hid some things from us and didn't lie."

"I didn't," Elle nodded seriously, "Everything I said to you was the complete truth." She thought about something, hesitated, then made a so-so motion with her hand. "Except for that one time I said I didn't steal Bart's snacks. I did do that. Sorry for blaming you, Kon, but I was hungry."

Gasping, Bart pointed at her. He remembered that. "I knew it! Kon doesn't even like those snacks."

"I told you so," Kon sighed, "But, can we get back to the part where you're apparently not a spy after all? Because I was seriously questioning our whole friendship when you just walked in there and were introduced as the High Chief's sister."

"Right!" Snapping her fingers, Elle nodded. She took a delicate sip from her wine, and apparently only remembered then that she didn't like wine. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she looked around for the nearest potted plant. When she noticed that it was too far away, she sighed, then focused back on him and Kon. "Okay. So, first things first, Wanderers are not spies."

"Yes," Kon deadpanned, "We got that far already."

"Let me talk, damnit!" Elle rolled her eyes fondly, then hummed. "So, I guess first you have to know a bit more about what the Paths are…"

Chapter Text

"So, I guess… First you have to know a bit more about what the Paths are." Elle tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting to look up at the ceiling. Kon half-expected her to make a comment about the unnecessary paintings up where nobody even looks. She usually didn't let any opportunity for that pass.

She showed rare restrained by concentrating on the topic, however. A sign of how important that was for her, Kon supposed. So he exchanged another glance with Bart, who was just as surprised and confused as Kon himself, apparently, and straightened up. If Elle was being serious, then so was Kon.

"The Paths," she began carefully, "are something we choose, and they are a point of pride for us. Every Path has one Ancient that protects them, and when you decide to walk a Path it's your duty to act accordingly to the virtues of that Ancient. We Wanderers follow Sojourn, the Ancient of Travel. The Wise follow Clockwork, the Ancient of Time. Warriors like my brothers follow Pandora, Ancient of Battle. Weavers follow Undergrowth, Ancient of Vegetation. Children that have yet to choose a Path are under the Protection of Frostbite, the Ancient of Ice, and those who have lost their colours serve under Vortex, the Ancient of Storms. The Chiefs ask for the guidance of Nocturn, Ancient of Sleep, and the High Chief seeks guidance from his patron Ancient and so wears their colour. Then, there's also the Council of Observants who wear golden paint, but that's a different topic.

"Did you notice how I used different descriptions there?" She waited until at least Bart nodded. Kon didn't, because he hadn't noticed. "That's because there is only four Paths, the Wanderers, the Wise, the Warriors and the Weavers. The other paint colours - the children, the colourless, and the chiefs - don't symbolise the Path they choose but rather what Ancient they are protected and guided by. But that's not what the Paths are. Sure, the patron Ancients usually guide and protect us, too, but mainly it's a choice. We choose to follow them, and to make every decision we come across from that choice onwards in accordance with their values. It gives us purpose, and a strict moral code to uphold.

"It is not, however, a defined job. Weavers, for example, can specialise in all different types of things. There's smiths, alchemists, woodworkers, artists, bakers, tailors… Anything that creates something with your own hands. Now, the Weavers follow Undergrowth. And Undergrowth places more value on the echo system than anything else. He wants there to be as many different species and as many healthy plats as possible. He doesn't care how other people see him, just what new creation he can come up with.

"So a Weaver can never take raw materials without thought for what it does to nature. A woodworker would deny even a commission from the High Chief himself, or even one from an Ancient, if he had to harm the forest for it. The woods have to be lightened, and that wood will be taken happily, and sometimes they fell a tree for commissions - but they have to grow a new tree in its stead. And since it takes time for the new tree to grow, they can't do that too often. There's no direct law for how much trees they can cut down, but they have to learn what is healthy for the environment and then act according to their best knowledge and belief.

"The thing is, denying someone because they think it would go against the virtues they are sworn to uphold is their divine right. Nobody can interfere with that. They cannot face an consequences for actions taken in the name of their Path. It is, also, their divine duty. If they choose not to uphold the virtues they've sworn to, they have to beg for forgiveness from the Ancient they have sworn to and make amends. Even if the Ancient forgives them without anything else, they would have to find a way to make up for their actions. A woodworker who participated in something like deforestation, for example, would spend months - if not years - planting new trees and tending to them. In that time, he wouldn't get to cut down even a single tree. If he wanted to keep woodworking, he would have to buy that wood from others, which usually means getting the left-overs.

"And it's the same for any of the Paths. Once you know what direction you want your life to take, you have a coming of age ceremony and choose your Path. After that, you are considered an adult and will be held responsible in accordance to your choice. A Warrior, for example, is anyone who wields weapons. This includes soldiers and guards, yes, but also hunters or adventurers." She hesitated a bit, then nodded to herself. "Right. Uhm, adventurers are mercenaries, basically. But since we are a warrior nation, we do give them a fair bit more protection than the other countries do. There's a guild and they get proper training, the missions are vetted and things like that.

"Now, back to Warriors in general. Pandora is very selfless. Her kind of fighting isn't about strength, but about protecting. The virtue a Warrior upholds, the duty they have, is to protect those who cannot fight. They put their lives on the line for the rest, and if they have the choice between their own life and that of an innocent bystander, they will choose the innocent. Also, Pandora is very adamant about only fighting if you think it's worth it, so every Warrior has the right to deny a fight he thinks is unnecessary or that he doesn't want to get involved in, as long as he has a reason for it.

"Pandora is also called the Patron of Passion. Warriors also uphold the virtue that family and loved ones come before anything else, even their own honour. That's a virtue that's generally very important in the society of the Lands, but for Warriors it's part of their Path and thereby their divine right. So if a soldier, for example, leaves the battlefield in the middle of a fight to protect his family, he can't be tried for that. If he does commit some crimes along the way, he will still be arrested, of course. If he kills someone even if it's to protect his family he will be charged for murder. But he can't be tried for desertion, even if he doesn't come back for the rest of the battle." Elle offered the two of them a tired smile. "Does this make sense? It should tell you how important the virtues of a Path are, and just how far we go to protect them. Socially, and legally."

Bart hummed thoughtfully, even before Kon could try to process all of that. "So, as long as it's a virtue of their Path, people have the right to just… refuse orders? Even from your brother?"

"Always," Elle nodded firmly, "Or the right to take action on their own. No matter what. It's one of the reasons Pariah Dark was so feared and hated: He ignored those rights completely." Elle's face twisted in pain, her gaze far away suddenly and her voice almost brittle. "If a Warrior refused to fight in his war, he would slaughter their entire family in front of their eyes and then kill them. If a Weaver refused to cut down more trees or melt more iron ore on his orders, he would set a forest aflame. If a Wise didn't tell him what he wanted to know or devoted everything to researching it he would destroy libraries or take their research papers away. I mean, Rain used to be a Wanderer, too, and Pariah took that from him just because he did his job, and-"

Elle was shaking. She was hugging herself tightly, shaking, with a haunted look in her eyes. And that didn't sit right with Kon. Because no matter what else Elle was, no matter why she'd even sought the two of them out, she was still someone dear to Kon. So he didn't even have to think about it, he just reached out and pulled her into a hug. Bart wasn't far behind, of course, clutching both of them as Elle tried to get her breathing back under control.

This, Kon thought grimly to himself, says much more about how important those virtues are than anything she could have said. Because Elle was one of the strongest people Kon knew. She could almost die and laugh about it right after. He'd seen her stare down Lex Luthor and Leonard Snart alike with a smirk on her lips and a mocking remark on her tongue. She might shake from adrenaline or rage, but never, never from fear or horror like this.

"It's alright," Kon whispered to her what his stepmother had whispered to him so many times when he'd woken up with a nightmare right after the war, "He can't reach you anymore. He's dead now. It's alright now."

A broken chuckle sounded from Elle, some sound Kon had never thought to hear from her. "It's really not," she whispered, "He- The things he did… That's a stain on history we can never erase. It's never going to be alright." She took a deep breath, visibly gathered herself and then pushed away from the two of them, eyes red and glistening with unshed tears. "But you're right. It's over, at least."

And Kon… Kon had never thought about what it must have been like. Living under the rule of a man like that. The war, the horrors that came out of the Infinite Lands had been everything he'd ever known about that place. He'd seen them as evil, as vile.

Elle was so happy, though. So free and kind and loyal. She loved her family deeply, even if she insulted them whenever she talked about them. She was fiercely protective and curious, and full of wonder. Even if some of that had been a faint, even if most of it had been, she was the furthest thing from an evil, heartless monster he could imagine.

And…

Kon glanced over to Tim. He didn't seem like he was afraid next to Phantom, either. He was nervous, sure, but he wasn't scared. He'd said he'd fallen in love with the High Chief, too. Kon couldn't imagine him falling for someone that was evil like what Kon had imagined. And, well, when he'd kissed their rings or when he'd allowed Tim to all but drag him out of the temple, or when he'd run to hug his sister, he didn't seem like a monster to Kon.

Of course he could be ruthless still. He could be cruel and dangerous. But… He had a kind heart, probably. Somewhere, for those he liked. Even if he did turn out to be a vicious monster later on, Kon couldn't deny that there was more to him than that.

"You probably can't sympathise with how horrible that is to us," Elle sighed. She chuckled, even as she dried her eyes. "It's horrible on so many levels, but especially since those things are so important to us. It's like he took everything we are from us, right down to our very identity. A ruler getting angry over not getting what he demanded might be something you imagine to be normal, but to us that is the stuff of nightmares. The way he showed his anger made it worse, but that helplessness and that lose of identity… It took years for my brother to make the people feel safe in making use of a right that's theirs by law and religion again. Some of the older ones still feel weary. Horror like that… It's not over just because it stopped happening."

"You're right," Kon admitted, "I can't understand that. It's not my culture, and grasping how that can be more important than anything else is… hard. But, if it helps, I can tell that it's bad, seeing how you react."

For some reason, that got him a stomp on the foot from Bart. "Seriously! She's obviously sad. Don't be so… so mean about it."

Elle's laugh drew both of their gazes. "It's fine. You know me, I'm not a big fan of sugar-coating things."

"Sugar is for sweets…" Bart quoted her with a serious nod.

"…not for words," Kon finished, smirking.

"Exactly!" Elle grinned, proudly puffing out her chest. "See, I'm a wonderful influence. No idea what Lexie's issue is."

Deeply, pityingly, Kon sighed. "Everything. Luthor's everything is his issue."

Elle snickered, obviously relaxing with the same old conversation they'd had about a thousand times now. After a moment, though, Elle sobered up again. "Right. Sorry for that. It's… a lot. I don't like to think about it."

"Yeah," Bart chuckled nervously, "I could tell that."

"You're good?" Kon mustered her. She looked like she felt better but sometimes you just couldn't tell with her. And Kon liked her, no matter what else happened. He didn't want her to feel bad.

"Yeah, all good again." Elle smiled at him, the same, soft smile she'd always shot him. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Right. But! I haven't told you about Wanderers yet. You get the part about divine right and divine duty, though, yeah?"

"The gist of it," Kon allowed.

"Think so…?" Bart shrugged.

Elle thought for a moment, then nodded again. "That's good enough for now, I guess. So! Wanderers follow Sojourn, right? And Sojourn, if you haven't guessed yet, is the son of Itiner. The only Ancient to have a good relationship with his mother, too, by the way. He didn't even get involved in the war between the Gods and the Ancients. His main virtue is freedom. The right a Wanderer has is to choose where to be and where to go. Wanderers can't be confined anywhere if they don't want to be. Even if they're criminals and get confined in prison, they get to choose which prison to go to."

"That suits you," Bart mused and Kon found himself agreeing. Elle had always gone where the wind had carried her.

She laughed. "It does, doesn't it? Da- My brother cried when I chose that, though. Like I said, overprotective idiot. He cried again when I was elected Head Wanderer, because that means I spend most of my time in Sojourn's main temple in the capital now. He also did freak out that one time when we were trapped in that cave and I couldn't write to him for a few weeks. Apparently it took Frighty, our older brother and Clocky to keep him from doing something reckless." She shrugged, like that was no big deal.

"So you just… travel as you please? That's what Wanderers are, then?" Somehow, Kon couldn't really believe that and he was sure his scepticism was obvious on his face.

Elle, too, shook her head with a laugh. "No. That would be nice, but that's not all there is to us. Let's see… Sojourn is also an observer and a storyteller. As we travel, we are meant to observe and experience as many things as we can. We're meant to understand how different people live, how live is in different regions and what helps or makes people struggle. It doesn't really matter where you go or how far you travel as long as you visit different places. Many Wanderers stay in the Infinite Lands, even."

"Within the Lands?" Bart tilted his head, confused. "Isn't the culture the same?"

"The general outlines of culture are the same everywhere," Elle hummed thoughtfully, "but how it's honoured can differ. For example, the paint. There's a belief about how when you die it well Nocturn know what clan you belong to and sort you into the stars accordingly. If it's removed post mortem or you die without it, you can't join your place there and won't find rest. You can imagine how much people fear dying without it. When someone does, they will be painted before the funeral. Some especially vile people wipe faces clean after murdering someone, though, and dump the corpse where nobody knows them.

"That's why people in the South-Eastern regions try to get a permanent imprint of their paint. Further South, near the border to the Cursed Lands, they mix something into their paint that reflects all sunlight and always wear their paint, even when they sleep. It creates tan-lines. In the more Eastern regions, they use some herbal paste that stains their skin to trace their paint. One region even paints their faces with that herbal paste and applies their colours on top of that. In the North-Western regions, they use additional markers to help Nocturn find their clan if they don't have their paint anymore. One region has the symbol of their clan tattooed, another wears the star sign of their clan. One has necklaces that are soldered closed and can't be removed with their clan symbol. Another one always has some jewellery with their clan symbol tied into their hair. In the Northern regions, they usually use their clothes. They weave patterns or stitch symbols into it. Like, here." She pointed at the phoenix stitched into her own skirt. "My clan is clan Phoenix, so I wear this."

"Like a family crest," Kon realised, fingers automatically gripping the silver earring with the symbol of the dead house El he wore everywhere.

"A bit, but also a bit more significant. It's complicated." Elle shrugged. "And because it's so complicated, there's man traditions even though we're one single country. So we travel, and we remember. And when we meet someone who never left his home and needs advise, we tell that story."

"But… How is that different from spies, then?" Kon asked dubiously, even as Bart nodded along, "If you travel to learn as much about someone else's home as you can and then share what you learned?"

"Because it's not about secrets," Elle sighed, "It's… Remember when I said that Sojourn doesn't get involved with things?" They both nodded. "Right. To that end, he is also a keeper of secrets. One of his virtues is only sharing the stories that he feels are relevant to the moment and to keep any secrets out of his stories. So while we are meant to share our experiences if someone has need of them, we also have a right to refuse to share something if that information is supposed to be secret. We can tell the moral of the story, but not the story itself. So, for example, I would say that I've seen merchants in Centralia use a generalised list that specifies how much different currencies are worth compared to each other. But I wouldn't tell them about… how you managed to make your coinage be worth so much, for example. Because that's something I overheard by being close to you, not because someone passing through would have been able to learn about it."

"So… advisors?"

Elle looked at Kon for a long moment before answering. "To a point. Retired Wanderers - so those that don't feel like traveling anymore or that sustained an injury that keeps them from doing that - do often take on jobs as advisors or serve in one of Sojourn's temples. Many just write down what they learned, and the Wise some generations later will reference their works. The thing is, rulers are supposed to rely on us and our experience. They're not supposed to make large decisions without consulting one of us. That's why we stay in one of Sojourn's temples whenever we rest somewhere in the Lands for a while. If a chief or even just a mayor has to make an important decision, they come to the temple and explain the situation. The Wanderers currently there will decide whether they have stories that might help. If they do, they tell them. If not, they leave. Anything said there is not to leave the temple, either."

"You mean, you're sworn to secrecy?" Kon tried to understand. "But… at your own discretion?"

"A lot of things are based on trust in the Infinite Lands," Elle allowed, "Honour is important to us. It's a virtue that we expect anyone to try and uphold, because there's no blemish on your being like being dishonourable. At least that's the mindset the Children of the Lands have. And what honour is might be interpretable to a certain degree, but there are strict definitions that aren't debatable. Like… There's no honour in taking from someone who has little, So don't you take a thing if you fear it might make your soul brittle. Or abusing your power brings shame to your family, abusing your right brings shame to your Ancient, and shaming others means your honour has no worth any longer. There's a lot of quotes like that."

"And that… works?" Kon couldn't help but think of Luthor again. If anyone tried to trust that he would care about any of that just because society did… It would have been a recipe for disaster.

Elle made a face, too. She very obviously thought about someone similar to Lex, judging by the expression she made alone. "It's… not a perfect system," she admitted, "There's people who think they're beyond saving so nothing they do matters anymore, and there's people who just don't care and abuse the trust they get. But that's why calling someone honorless is such a serious insult for our people. Since the trust that comes with relying on other people acting with honour is so important, there's no trust for someone who has no honour. They get orchestrated, really. Until they managed to make amends and restore their honour they're… not really seen as part of the collective. An outcast. In some really extreme places it gets to the point where they won't even trade with people like that, not even for food or anything. Not very honourable behaviour, either, if you ask me."

She sighed, visibly unhappy. Then she shook her head, a small smile back on her lips. "And even apart from the social implications, the people back home aren't just worried what others might think. They're scared of loosing their honour. People view it as loosing themselves, their soul."

"It makes sense," Kon mused, "that the only thing we knew about your people for a long time was how important honour is to them, then."

Elle nodded. "It's a cornerstone of our society. And it works, because caring for the people around you is a part of being honourable. Not to the part where you have to put others first, but… We help each other, if we're able to. And we trust that others will come to out aid if we need it."

"That sounds nice," Kon admitted, smiling wryly, "But it's hard to imagine."

"It's hard to explain, too. And if you haven't lived it I guess it's not something you can trust in. But it does make life better for all of us." Elle shrugged again. "Maybe you can come see for yourself sometime. Now that the borders are open, I mean."

Startled, Kon exchanged a look with Bart. "We… Could come visit you? Just like that?"

"Of course," Elle nodded as if that was the most obvious thing, "We're friends, aren't we? I've come to your place lots of times. The only reason I didn't invite you over earlier is because the Lands were still living their shut-in lives and crossing the border was a bit difficult."

And Kon wasn't sure what he had expected. But this was so like Elle. That was exactly what Elle would say. And something in Kon relaxed as he realised that while maybe there'd been a lot of secrets between them that only Elle had known were even there, but at least she hadn't pretended to be someone else. Elle, their Elle, was still the same as ever.

Grinning, Kon nodded. "It will probably give Clark a heart attack, so I'm all for that. When we do, maybe you can show us some more just what your fancy new position entails?"

Elle relaxed, too, Kon noticed. Just a fraction, but she'd been nervous as well. The smile she shot the two of them now was as bright as the sun again, though. "Absolutely. The Council will hate it. It'll be great. Mostly it's a lot of boring meetings and paperwork, though. Not sure you want to see that."

"Huh." Bart tilted his head. "Then we definitely have to come. To rescue you from your boring adult job, I mean."

"Wait!" Kon, who'd just had an epiphany, spun around to point at Elle. "Does that mean you've been legally considered an adult since you were eleven?!"

"You didn't think my family let a child wander through the entire continent, now, did you?" Looking at both Kon's and Bart's expression, she doubled over in laughter. "Ha! Your faces!"

"Wha- How were we supposed to know?!" Kon threw his arms up in frustration. "That's just weird, an eleven year old being an adult."

"Emancipated, technically," Elle admitted as she sobered up, still grinning. "A lot of children went through their ceremony a lot younger than they should have. Usually, you choose at fifteen or sixteen and then you train for a few more years. But the war was brutal, and…" Something sad and dark entered her eyes again. "Because of some things in my past, I just didn't want to feel like I was trapped anymore. It's never been for me, and especially not after how I was treated."

"Now that we know who your family is," Bart ventured carefully, "Will you tell us more about your past?"

"Not a lot," Elle immediately denied, "Sorry. I just… don't like talking about it. If it's ever important I'll tell you, promise. Just- My one father is pretty similar to Lexie. I renounced all my ties to my birth family. My brother and I were related before that, but we chose that it would be easier to be siblings. So that's what we are in front of the Ancients now."

"He's still alive?" Bart guessed, grimacing.

"My brother thinks I might regret renouncing him one day. So he keeps him around." She sighed, deeply annoyed now. "It's like everything the idiot does: Well-meant and so stupid it borders on dangerous."

"I can't believe you talk about the High Chief like that." Bart breathed out. Kon wholeheartedly agreed, though he'd been to preoccupied with all the new information to say anything.

Elle just shrugged, though. "It's not like it's wrong. Besides, family-perks. Here, watch this." Before either Kon or Bart could stop her, she had already turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Oy, idiot!"

To their utter surprise, Phantom actually turned around, holding up a finger to Sojourn who he'd just been talking to. "Yes?" he called back.

"You're a moron."

The High Chief blinked once, twice. "Okay?" He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Just because," Elle called back, shrugging.

Phantom also shrugged. "Alright, then." With that he turned back around, as though this was a completely normal exchange.

Elle, too, turned back around to them, grinning. "He's my brother before he's anything else," she said as if that actually explained any of this, and maybe it even did. "And besides, I'm the Head Wanderer. I have the divine right to say whatever I want to him."

Perking up at that, Bart leaned in a bit. "Yeah, what does that mean? I mean, being Head Wanderer? What does that make you, exactly?"

"Hm…" She crossed her arms, looking back up to think. "See, when I said some of us retire to become an advisor?" Kon nodded. "Yeah, the Head Wanderer is the exception to that. The Wanderers elected me to be their leader, basically? It means I have to stay in the capital and do boring stuff a lot. It also means that I oversee all the temples of Sojourn. Make sure there's enough food and things for the Wanderers stopping by. If someone tries to force a Wanderer into something they get to call me, too, and then I take some guards with me and solve the issue. I'm also supposed to be their voice? Which really means that I have to sit in the council room and make sure their needs don't get trampled on. Ah! And when the council meets and makes important decisions it's me they ask. So my brother has to listen to me before making any decision. I'm his direct advisor. The Head Wanderer doesn't have to be retired, either, it's just that I don't really have a lot of time to go wandering anymore? But if I decide to go wander tomorrow I get to do that. As long as I can be reached in case of an emergency, that is. That's also why I could just up and leave to come here."

"So," Kon realised, "you're really important?"

Elle shrugged. "One of the four most important people right after my brother and his new husband, yeah. Who cares, though. I'm a Wanderer anyways, so I mostly get to do what I want even if I don't have that title. Again, one of our virtues is freedom. Which also includes speaking our mind whenever we feel it's needed."

And that, Kon though with a smile on his lips, really explained a lot about Elle.

"I still don't really understand what Wanderers are to your people, though," Bart sighed.

Elle shrugged. "The awesome people who actually get to see stuff and therefor should be asked before making any decision? Wandering, wise spirits that can answer questions you didn't even know you had? Storybooks that just up and leave when they feel like it? That distant cousin who only comes around for celebrations but sends you fun souvenirs while they're Ancients knows where? Curious squirrels who only care when you ask them about things they're interested in? Dragons that hoard experiences instead of gold? Something like that."

"Spiritual guides that have a broader point of view than anyone else can hope to have," a gruff voice interrupted her. Flinching, Kon turned around to come face-to-face with Lord Dantrey. The man glowered at him first and then Bart, eyes narrowing before he hummed and turned back to his sister. "Everyone is finding a place to sit. Will you come sit with us or do you want to stay with them?"

"I'll sit with my friends, thanks."

Lord Dantrey sighed but nodded, giving her a soft kiss to the forehead. "Glad you're here," he muttered, then turned around and walked away as though nothing had happened.

Elle, also acting as if she hadn't just told the High Chief's very intimidating brother that she wouldn't spend time with him when he very obviously hoped she would and named Kon and Bart as the reason as to why, grinned at the two of them and started in the direction of the table. "So, where do you two want to sit?"

Chapter Text

There were many things Danny disliked about being High Chief.

He hated how formal his clothes had to be for simple things, like greeting friends from the rebellion. He loathed the constant expectations and pressure. He couldn't stand how public everything about his life had become. It was a pain how much people made out of small remarks.

Most of all, though, he couldn't stand the stupid, endless, mindless council sessions where nobody got to the point and instead of saying what they meant people just tried to explain why their point of view was more important than the rest. The would drone on and on about things that didn't even matter instead of finding a solution. They would disagree and squabble with each other and nobody would just shut up and let him talk. And when he did talk, things always escalated because any careless remark would be over-analysed and everybody tried to win his favour. And, yes, it was for the sake of their people, but still!

Unfortunately, the part of the evening where the nobles gave him and his heart presents felt more and more like a slimier and shadier version of council sessions. A council session from way back when he hadn't even understood half of what was being said, to be exact.

Fortunately, his pretty and amazing husband was talented beyond belief and could easily talk circles around the schmoozing nobles. And even more fortunately, he was also very distracting when he gave a polite, soft laugh, half-hidden behind his hand, and replied something devastating in a gentle and friendly voice.

Danny had seen many battles. This battle, he may not understand. But whatever else was happening right now, he could tell his husband was involved in a fierce battle against many opponents, without backup - and he was an incredibly dualist in this weird, social form of combat. He could tell that his heart was definitely winning. Even if he had no idea how or why.

"Your Majesty?"

"Hm?" Glancing over from where he'd tilted his head just enough to see his husband back to the noble currently in front of him, Danny tried to remember anything the man had said. Unfortunately, he hadn't been paying attention. At all. He'd noticed that people referred to him like he was some king rather than the High Chief here in the South, though, so he had probably been asked something directly and then, when he hadn't responded, asked again.

Something told Danny it was a bad time to ask the noble to repeat himself. He'd been there for a while already.

Well. There was nothing for it, then: Danny just had to pretend like he knew what was happening.

"Right. You…" That was probably the wrong way to address a foreign noble, right? "What did you say was your name again? I'm afraid I must have forgotten, with how long you've been talking."

There! Very good. That should prove to them that Danny hadn't spaced out, right? Since he wouldn't have known that the man had been talking for, what, half of eternity with his husband by now?

Somehow, the man didn't seem very happy, though. Well. Probably because Danny had just admitted to forgetting his name. That must have been annoying.

"Earl Roman Sionis, your Majesty. I keep a seat at Gotham's court, m'lord." With a flourish, the man bowed again.

"Your lord, hm?" Danny couldn't help but scoff at the dramatics of this man. "As far as I know you are not one of my subjects. Aren't you words a bit… rude? To my husband and my in-laws, I mean?"

"Your majesty, I only-" He rightened himself again, looking a bit flustered. "You are a Royal Prince Consort now, are you not? So by, that line of-"

"Endowed Consort to the royal house of Gotham," Danny cut in. He understood that it was confusing - Danny himself was confused by most of the titles he'd gathered by now and what exactly they meant - but he should probably clear that up before the misunderstanding festered. After all, titles were often used where names had not been granted, and if somebody used a title instead of a name it was incredibly important to get it right.

"… Pardon?"

"The title granted to me through marriage and treaty," Danny calmly explained to the confused Earl, "is Endowed Consort to the royal house of Gotham. Not Royal Prince Consort. I married the third prince, not the king or his appointed heir. Therefor, I am High Chief of the Infinite Lands, Endowed Consort to the royal house of Gotham."

"Right." Somehow, the man's smile looked more like an angry animal fletching its teeth to Danny. Huh. Weird. "Endowed Consort, which means your majesty is-"

"Endowed Consort of the royal house of Gotham," Danny sighed. Seriously! Mixing up titles when you hadn't been explicitly told yet was one thing, but shortenint them to the point it changed the meaning? Unbelievable! "I am not the consort someone has taken after first marrying a legal spouse. It is just that I don't have my own royal title in this kingdom, so-" Sighing again, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's put the matter aside for now. You're obviously confused. Now, what even was your question?"

And, yeah, Danny probably would also fail miserably at smiling after embarrassing himself that much. Still, that grimace was a bit much in Danny's opinion. "We were talking about my gift, your Majesty. I was explaining how it would surely be useful to your husband? Surely his Highness is mistaken and your Majesty would want your husband to have anything he might need."

Alright. So, honestly? Danny hadn't payed attention enough to know what gift the Earl was talking about. But apparently Tim had declined the gift, probably using Danny as an excuse, and the Earl didn't just have difficulty with remembering titles but also with accepting no. It annoyed Danny. Not that his husband had used him, Danny was actually glad for that since his husband was welcome to throw Danny's name around as he please. But, really, this noble was becoming more and more dislikable to Danny. If his heart had given his answer, wasn't that enough already?

Very well, then, Danny thought with a sigh. He would just have to support his husband in whatever he'd said. So he smiled and simply said: "No."

Silence. Had Danny said something surprising? He raised an eyebrow when the Earl only stared at Danny flabbergasted. "No?"

"No." Danny nodded, gently taking his glass and sipping from it. He didn't particularly like or dislike wine, but this one tasted at least better than the one back home. Did his heart like drinking wine? Should Danny buy some to bring back home? Like chocolate. Danny had noticed his heart was fond of chocolate, so he'd arranged accordingly.

"Your Majesty," the noble said, sounding a bit strained now, "surely you do not mean that. What about my gift is unsatisfactory to you?"

Honestly, Danny couldn't answer that. He didn't even know what that gift was. But when he glanced back over to his heart, he could tell his husband was uncomfortable. And if it made his heart uncomfortable that was all the reason to decline the gift he could possibly need.

"Because my husband," he explained calmly, "is absolutely right. So we will not accept your gift." Danny was honestly annoyed at having to spell that out. Shouldn't it be obvious? Maybe the Earl was slow. Maybe that was why he'd prepared a gift that even Danny's kind-hearted and polite husband had refused in front of all these people. And yet, it was just making Danny angry. "Frankly, I don't know why we're even still discussing this. My husband already told you, didn't he?"

"Perhaps," Sam calmly suggested from where she sat with Tucker just a few seats down, "he enjoys making a fool of himself?"

"Perhaps," Tucker muttered semi-quietly in agreement, "It would explain a few things, at least."

Breathing a laugh, Danny leaned back in his chair again. "Regardless, we're declining your gift."

"But your Majesty, I put so much thought into this gift," the noble protested, starting to sound really angry now. Danny didn't know why. He was the one who apparently brought something completely inappropriate to their wedding!

"It can't have been that much thought," Tucker told Sam, not even bothering to lower his voice, "If both of them don't want it."

Sam inclined her head, delicately running her finger over the rim of her glass. "Much like he isn't thinking now. He must know he has been dismissed, right?"

Tucker shrugged. "Maybe it's just because he isn't very-"

Hissing in their direction, Danny interrupted them. He locked eyes with Sam first and then Tucker, making sure they'd heard him. Because while it was funny, Danny still couldn't let the two of them insult a guest. Unfortunately.

Tucker meowed his agreement, while Sam frowned. She narrowed her eyes, tilted her head and finally cawed like a crow.

Surprised, Danny looked back at the Earl. A trap. But where? Glancing back at his friend, he chirped twice. He wouldn't usually do this in the middle of an event, but… Well, if Sam thought there was some sort of trap here then he needed a report.

There was a long pause before she finally sighed. In the end, she shook her head and cried like a phoenix. Be careful. In other words, she didn't know. She just had a bad feeling.

Pursing his lips, Danny nodded to her once. Then, he turned back to the Earl who'd watched the entire exchange silently with narrowed eyes. Danny sighed. "I believe," Danny said, making sure to at least sound pleasant still, "that our conversation is over, Earl Sionis. I would like to get on with things. Do you mind?"

The Ear did mind, apparently. At least his jaw clenched and he took a deep breath. "I-"

"You have been dismissed, Roman," King Bruce spoke up from his seat next to Danny's heart, "Please, don't paint our nation in a worse light than you already have."

The Earl obviously didn't like that, either, but with a huff he gave a shallow bow, turned around sharply and walked back to his seat. The King sighed, offering Danny an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies for that, Phantom. You must think our nobles to be terribly rude…"

Shaking his head, Danny offered a smile of his own. "It wasn't me he was rude to," he noted, turning his gaze to the beautiful, strong man next to him instead, "My heart? Are you alright?"

"Hm?" Surprised, almost startled, Prince Timothy looked at Danny. "Oh. I, uhm, yes. I'm doing quite well, thank you. Earl Sionis was just, erm, surprised by my reaction to his gift I'm sure. I should not have assumed your opinion on the matter like that. Please, forgive me for being rash. I was just…"

When Danny reached out to cradle his face in his hand, he trailed off. Smiling softly, Danny took his heart's left hand in his and kissed the newly placed wedding ring. "Don't apologise, my heart. Do with the gifts what you will. If you like them, keep them. And if you don't, don't force yourself to. And as for using my name…" Danny smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind the prince's ear. He only hesitated for the slightest moment, considering whether to speak out loud or quietly. Both had their merits, so for now he leaned in close and whispered: "Feel free to do so until it's worn out."

When he leaned back again, the prince was both flushed and stunned. Danny didn't feel as though he'd said something that surprising. He had promised his heart to support them in their life together, after all. But somehow, it still seemed to have surprised the other. Danny's heart bit his lip, and nodded his understanding softly, looking down nervously. "I- Yes. I'll… do that, then."

Danny offered his heart a bright smile and then, noting that his husband was feeling uncomfortable, turned back to their guests. "Where were we, again?"

"I believe," Tucker spoke up after a long moment of silence, "that was the last of the Gothamite guests." When nobody disagreed with him, Tucker nodded and stood up. Confidently, leisurely, he walked up to Danny and his freshly wedded husband. Once there, he positioned his feet like he was about to bow but pressed his fist to his heart and nodded deeply instead.

"My dear friend and clan leader. Your royal Highness. My sincerest congratulations on your marriage." Tucker stood up straight again, smiling at the two of them. "To celebrate this occasion, I have prepared a gift for you," he announced, as though not everybody had been already aware of it.

Danny had forgotten that Tucker, too, could be incredibly dramatic. Fondly, he watched as his childhood friend revealed a small, rectangular box. When it was carefully placed on the table between the two of them, Danny chuckled quietly.

"Thank you kindly, Weaver of our clan," Tim replied to Tucker, drawing the box close. Danny's chest warmed when he heard his husband call it their clan. He was right, of course, but hearing it for the first time still felt wonderful and precious.

As his husband sent him a quick glance, questioning whether that had been okay probably, Danny nodded softly. Relief looked good on Danny's heart.

When his heart opened the box, Danny couldn't help but gasp. Inside, sheathed and cushioned on a soft blanket, were two daggers. Both of them were ordained with different patterns - one with snow flakes and one with a phoenix - on the quillon. What really caught Danny's eye, though, was the shimmering hilts. They caught the light of the banquet hall beautifully, shining in all colours of the rainbow.

"Tucker," Danny breathed, "are these…?"

"Faerie Daggers," Tucker nodded, "I enchanted them myself."

"Oh." Danny smiled, blinking away tears. That was… He had to swallow before he could turn to his husband, who looked politely confused, and explain. "Farie Daggers are a magical item that get attuned to their owner. Nobody else can wield them, and they will always find their way back to their owner. Most of all, though, they are known for being conditional weapons: You can only hurt a person with it if the condition inscribed in them is fulfilled. They're incredibly rare," Danny looked back over to his friend, still overwhelmed by the gesture, "because they are incredibly hard to craft. Tucker, these must have taken you years to make."

"I started once you became Presiding Heir Apparent," Tucker admitted, "I knew even you would find someone to marry eventually. All that was left when you got betrothed was choosing a fitting condition and adding it to the enchantment. I finished just before your letter arrived."

"And what is the condition, pray tell?" Danny's heart asked.

Tucker smiled. "Someone who intends to harm you. They are a pair, so the condition works for either of you. I assumed, given Gotham's stance on dealing with criminals and your family's… famous relationship with trust, that you would appreciate a defensive weapon."

"A weapon that cannot be disarmed," Danny surmised with a smile, "and will only cut those we have to defend either ourselves or each other against. Thank you, my friend. They're perfect."

"I know," Tucker smirked. He winked at Danny, bowed his head respectfully to his heart, then turned around and sat back down next to Sam.

Carefully, Danny raised the dagger with the phoenix motive, unsheathing it and watching the black blade shine. Gently, he took one of his husband's hands. "Here, allow me," he said, waiting for the nod. Then, he pricked his heart's finger with the tip of the dagger. A single drop of blood slid down the edge, making the blade shine and turn silver again.

"There," Danny announced, sheathing the dagger again and passing it hilt fist to his husband, "Now no matter what happens, you will always have something to defend yourself with."

Gingerly, his husband took the dagger. "You are happy with this?"

"Of course," Danny laughed, "It means you'll be safer. What is there not to be happy about?" Unsheathing his own dagger, Danny repeated the process with the second blade. "And this," he continued as he sheathed the blade again and tied it to his waist, "means I'll be able to protect you, too."

Danny's heart smiled shyly at him, taking his own dagger and fastening it to his belt. Satisfied with that, Danny turned back around to the guests. It was Sam who stood next, coming forward with all the grace she had learned when she'd still been first in line for family's noble title. She smiled at Danny, then regarded his husband with a short nod.

"My High Lord," she addressed him with his new formal title, "I know that, although your brother will accompany you, it must be difficult to start a new life somewhere you know barely anyone. Therefore my gift to you is this." Sam reached into a pouch and threw sand into the air, using her magic to open a portal with it. She reached inside and carefully retrieved a small egg. It was about the size of her palm, and it glittered golden. Gently, she placed the egg on the table before Danny's husband.

"This," she explained, closing the portal again with a snap of her fingers, "is the egg of a creature called a faerie dragon. They are loyal but independent creatures. This particular species is the most social of the bunch, called a river chime. They're quite smart and able to find someone based on smell alone. Once grown, they are often used to deliver letters - particularly those you would not want to be misdirected. But even more than that, they do make fine companions. They are empaths and care for the emotional wellbeing of those they consider family. With this, I hope, you won't feel lonely in our country and, in due time, be able to reach out to your family."

"Oh." Danny's heart tenderly cradled the small, unborn dragon. "Thank you, High Priestess. How do I… care for it?"

"The egg will survive until the conditions allow it to hatch. You have to place the egg under water near a fire for that. This species is herbivore, and they prefer to eat plankton or algae," Danny remembered, "There is a pond in the keep and a river close by. I know we have books in the library you can read, they should be able to tell you everything else."

Nodding again, his husband turned to Sam. "This is truly a thoughtful gift. I'm grateful."

She smiled. "I's my pleasure."

Once she sat again, it was Sojourn who stood up. "I, too, want to congratulate the two of you on your marriage."

"Thank you," Danny answered, immediately wary. You couldn't tell from just looking at him or by how he spoke, but actually Sojourn was an agent of chaos. He loved playing with other people just to pretend to be innocent afterwards. As long as nobody truly got hurt, at least. Still, though, Danny could not imagine why Sojourn would get involved right now. He just knew the Ancient had some sort of plan right now - probably one he'd concocted with Clockwork.

Smirking, Sojourn nodded. "This is the first time," Sojourn noted, "that the High Lord was not a Child of the Lands before marriage. And as this is such a historical moment, I have prepared multiple gifts for my dear nephew and his husband."

Danny smiled, even as his anxiety grew. Yeah, Sojourn was definitely planning something.

"First of all, my dear nephew," Sojroun said, smiling brightly, "I want to express your marriage has my blessing." Wait. Oh no! "And since your dear husband is already blessed by Astri-" Damnit! What could Danny say to get out of this?! "-I shall bless you, personally."

Before Danny could say anything, before he could even try to protest, he found himself submerged in bright, pure white light. It only lasted a moment before it absorbed itself into Danny's skin. Stupid, damn, ancient fossil of a-

"Thank you," Danny forced out, "That's great, having even more blessings. Yay. Can I ask what, exactly, this one does?"

"I'll tell you later," Sojourn waved off. Then, he turned to Danny's heart, whose posture got impossibly straighter. Yeah, Danny could imagine why. If you didn't know what they were like, speaking to an Ancient was something really nerve-wrecking. After that, it was just tiering.

"As for you, young prince, I will bestow you with a relic instead, since your current blessing and one of mine would not be compatible." Sojourn retrieved a parchment scroll from his sleeve, rolled up and old and very familiar.

Gasps filled the room from Danny's people, even Danny himself. The only one who didn't show her surprise must have been Ellie. "This," Sojourn solemnly explained, "is the Infi-Map. It is a map infused with part of my power, and the only map adjusting to the ever changing distances within our home. With this, you will be able to travel anywhere in the Infinite Lands at all. Take it. And, please, make sure not to loose it."

"One time," Danny muttered, "I lost it one time."

Pretending like he hadn't heard that even if Danny knew his ears were too sharp not to, Sojourn advised his heart: "Your husband will be able to teach you how to use it. He has borrowed this from me from time to time. Though nobody has been the holder of this artefact yet in this century. Maybe even the last."

One Danny's heart had taken the map from Sojourn with a nervous smile and slightly trembling hands, the Ancient nodded. "Now, this next thing is not a gift from me alone. In fact, my cousins and I have been talking-" Knew it. "-and we decided to give this to you now. After all, you are a Child of the Lands now, too, and will need a proper form of identification."

Sojourn reached into his other sleeve, taking out a small, sharp and pointy stone. It was black, shimmering with specks of blue, white and purple, and shaped like a batarang.

"This is a soul shard," Sojourn said as he presented it to Danny's husband, "We shaped it after your family's traditional weapon. A soul shard is bestowed upon every Child of the Lands during the course of their life, either when being acknowledged as an adult or when achieving something substantial. Only divine beings such as Ancients or the gods can make these. If you allow your magic to flow into it, it will light up in a pattern unique to your soul. In the Lands, we use this as a form of identification as the resonance with your soul and therefor the pattern it builds can not be imitated or falsified."

As his heart thanked Sojourn and the two of them engaged in a bit of mundane small talk before Sojourn would finally sit back down, Danny curiously eyed the soul shard. He had to admit, it was a good choice for the shape. It looked pretty, too, so it suited his heart. But Danny couldn't help but wonder, what would it looked like when he allowed himself to resonate with it? Danny felt really curious right now, but he also understood that it was personal and shouldn't be done here. After all, showing someone their soul shard was, apart from being a safe way to prove who you were, somewhat of an intimate sign of trust.

"Now," Sojourn announced with a clap of his hands and a bright smile on his lips, "I think your husband has also prepared a gift for you."

Oh, yeah, Sojourn was definitely very satisfied with himself. Seriously, Danny's entire family was utterly impossible!

Instead of sighing or glaring at his not-uncle like he wanted to, Danny gestured towards Silk who nodded and got the box with Danny's own gift. Suddenly nervous, Danny offered a smile to his heart. He hoped his love would like this…

"This," Danny said gently, "is something I made myself."

Chapter Text

Tim's head was reeling.

Most of the traditional gift giving had proceeded like he'd assumed it would. They had gotten sweet, thoughtful gifts from the close family friends. The nobles in attendance had mainly given impersonal, mainly unnecessary clutter but, on a symbolic level, said nice things by gifting them.

That they hoped Tim would be safe. That they hoped their family would be healthy. That they hoped Tim wouldn't be too stressed out. That they hoped Tim would find companionship in his marriage, despite the seemingly dire circumstances. That they hoped the peace would last. That they were grateful to Tim for making this sacrifice. That Tim would not be forgotten. That the peace Tim had bought them would not be squandered. Such things.

Tim was relieved that Danny allowed him to handle most of the talks. After all, it was more than obvious that Danny didn't have much patience for political niceties. It was painfully obvious looking back on their first talks and how he'd greeted the royals arriving in Gotham. Jason had said he Lord Dantrey had mentioned something similar to him, too. And with how understandably nervous all of their guests were already, Tim really didn't want some diplomatic incident to happen. Not because some noble cracked under the pressure or because it dragged on too long and Danny's patience with them would snap.

Loyal to a fault to his allies and cruel to his enemies. That's how his own clan had described Danny. And Tim had already seen one of those sides to be real, could imagine the other side just too well. And people with such a demeanour, Tim knew, usually cared little for everyone else. So while Tim knew by now that he had nothing to fear from his fian- his husband, he also wouldn't test his boundaries tonight of all days.

So far, everything had been perfectly normal. Expected, even. Exactly what Tim had prepared for.

Sionis presenting something that couldn't be found fault with unless Tim made accusations based on mere speculations had also been expected. It was very possible that the tea had not been laced with anything. And Tim couldn't risk saying anything in case it really was just tea. But he also couldn't risk accepting the tea. And he could not deny it without a proper reason.

The reason Tim had named in the end was extraordinarily stupid. He knew that it wasn't true, after all. And worse yet, he had dragged his fi- husband into the mess, using his name. There had been absolutely no reason for Danny to take Tim's side, to affirm his uncharacteristically feeble lies.

And then he had. Casually. Like he had not even entertained a different idea to begin with.

And it had been supporting Tim and backing up his lies. Because Tim just so happened to know that Danny actually liked tea. A lot. He was really happy about it whenever they shared a cup together in the afternoons. It was how Tim had managed to get closer to his soon-to-b-

How he'd gotten closer to his now husband in the first place.

Somehow, miraculously, Danny had not even been cross with him for arbitrarily using his name. He'd been perfectly content with Tim using his power and position, about Tim throwing his weight around casually. Like that was something Tim could just do. Like Tim had any right to the influence Danny held. As though it was his to wield. But Danny had just gone along with it.

And as for using my name, feel free to do so until it's worn out.

Blushing again, Tim took a fortifying breath. It suddenly felt so warm here. And was Danny still looking at him…? Tim glanced over. And, yes, his husband's green eyes were still fixed on him. Subtly, likely to make sure Tim wasn't feeling uncomfortable being stared at. But still, his husband was looking at him like he'd never want to stop.

Another deep breath. In. Out. One more time.

Tim could do this. Absolutely. He would not melt into an embarrassed puddle on his chair, right next to his handsome and influential husband. He wouldn't be a mark of shame on Danny. He would not be seen as weak or a liability or look as though, gods forbid, he was uncomfortable with the situation. Tim was raised better than that. He'd trained to keep his emotions under control at court, and one comment from his husband would not be his undoing. Tim was able to stand this, he know he was.

All eyes were on them. Tim would be strong, and endure the fluttering feeling in his stomach, the warmth in his chest and the constant over-awareness of how he must look right now, mirrored in the glowing eyes of a man he adored so dearly.

Either way!

What had really surprised him, though he question whether it should have, were the gifts from Danny's guests.

Magic items were rare. And, yes, they were much more common int the Infinite Lands. They had more magic to begin with. But still, having magic items crafted was costly, both in materials and time alone. Which didn't even begin to consider the skill it would take! Procuring a magic item was not something just anyone had the resources to do. Even Bruce had just a few, and most of them had accumulated in the treasury throughout the decades.

And yet both of Danny's friends had presented magic items as gifts as though that wasn't a completely ludicrous thought. As though the very idea was normal.

And not just normal magic items, either! They were a far cry from the typical magic item, which was handy and reliable but still within reason. Not even the higher grade magic items, which utilised uncommon magic and were hard to control and even harder to go up against. No, these were the kind of magic items that belonged in the national treasury. The kind for which wars had been fought. The kind that nobody usually even so much as laid eyes upon during their entire life.

And now Tim was the owner of one such item and a magic creature of the very same calibre. Which was…

Tim once again wondered whether his sanity would survive living in the Infinite Lands. By now, it really felt like they should better be dubbed the Lands of Infinite Insanity.

Tim watched Canopy sit back down, adhering to the etiquette she had clearly been taught as a lady of Star Kingdom once upon a time. Tim idly wondered what kind of circumstances had led the thought-to-be-dead daughter of a viscount to join the clan of a warlord leader of a former enemy nation. Mainly, he did this so that he would not have to think about the gifts they had just received.

Suddenly, the Ancient in attendance stood. Tim tensed, his heart speeding up. Surely, the Ancient could not be so angry with them receiving such important items that he decided to intervene? Or, perhaps the whole ordeal was taking too long and they had offended him. Or, gods, maybe someone had whispered something or- or he was offended because Tim had not punished the Earl that had dared to disrespect the mortal this Ancient had claimed as his nephew.

"I," the Ancient calmly declared as Tim gulped, "too, want to congratulate the two of you on your marriage."

Oh… Oh, that wasn't so bad. Hopefully that would be everything, because Tim really didn't know how to react to being given a gift from an Ancient.

Why was Sojourn coming to them? Tim probably already knew, but he really hoped he was wrong. Or not? Wouldn't anything else be even worse, all things considered?

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no! What was Tim even to do?

What was the proper response to receiving a gift from a god-like being? Throwing yourself onto the floor and swearing everlasting fealty? Because that seemed suitable. And Tim would. He would, if that saved Gotham and his family from the wrath of an angry Ancient.

But if he did wouldn't that reflect on Danny, now that they were married? Would that hurt Danny's pride? And if so, what would the Ancient say to that, considering how clearly he favoured Danny?

"…Thank you," Danny answered Sojourn, not sounding thankful at all. More as though he expected the Ancient to do something untoward. Tim's breath stuttered. That couldn't possibly be a good sign.

But Sojourn only accepted the thanks with a graceful nod. Then, voice somewhere between solemn and amused, he announced: "This is the first time that the High Lord was not a Child of the Lands before marriage. And as this is such a historical moment, I have prepared multiple gifts for my dear nephew and his husband."

It was simultaneously a relief to hear this as well as incredibly nerve-wreaking. Tim could not dare to mess this up, after all. Fortunately for him, however, the Ancient then turned toward Tim's husband.

"First of all, my dear nephew, I want to express your marriage has my blessing." Tim's mouth felt impossibly dry when he noticed Danny stiffening at Sojourn's words. "And since your dear husband is already blessed by Astri, I shall bless you, personally."

Stunned, Tim watched as Sojourn reached out and a breath of shining, smoke-like, pure white magic lit up the entire room. It wafted over to Danny in barely any time at all, engulfing him completely. For a moment, it swirled around the High Chief so fast that Tim feared Danny might get dizzy. Then, however, it settled onto Danny's form like fresh snow. With one last blinding flash it seemed to be absorbed into Danny's form, making his eyes glow brighter for but the blink of an eye and leaving the entire room looking dark and dull in its wake.

Danny, on the other hand, looked resigned. Like he had just lost an argument he'd been unwilling to concede on after many days. Or like something absolutely unsalvageable had happened.

"Thank you. That's great. Having even more blessings! Yay…" Horrified, Tim watched Danny as he all but spit the words at Sojourn. After a deep breath, Danny continued, all but hissing out as more of a demand than a question: "Can I ask what, exactly, this one does?"

"I'll tell you later," the Ancient retorted, sounding incredibly smug as he waved the question off. Confused, Tim looked back to Danny who all but glowered at the Ancient. What in the name of Astri's lost eyes…? Had Tim just watched an Ancient bully the High Chief? Via granting a blessing?!

Of course, Danny had mentioned having a great many blessings. He had said that all the Ancients had blessed him, on the behest of some council of observants Tim had still been too nervous to ask about then - which reminded him, that was something he should probably bring up as well - but this was just ridiculous! No matter how much the Ancients may favour him, no matter how many blessings he may already have, there simply was no way that Danny was so annoyed by new blessing that Sojourn had just used it to tease him!

Right?

Moreover, why would Sojourn not disclose the blessing? It was hardly the only one Danny had. So people knowing would not be a disadvantage to him, as he had many other blessings none of them knew about. Then, the reason must be in the blessing itself. Which really served nothing to make Tim feel better.

Well. At least it was Danny who held the blessing now, which meant Tim knew it would not be misused, at least. That did help.

Suddenly, the Ancient turned towards Tim. Like earlier in the temple, Tim felt those eyes settle on them, saw them flash beneath the hood for but a moment. Finding himself unable to breathe all at once, Tim's every thought screeched to a halt. What did Sojourn want with him?

"As for you, young prince," the Ancient spoke and for one, irrational moment Tim expected to be found lacking and sentenced to death. Or something of the magnitude, at least. But, no, Sojourn had said this union had his blessing. He would not smite Tim now, so Tim forced himself to take one deep, shaky breath.

He was Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, son of Jack and Janet Drake, last heir of the Drake Duchy, third prince of Gotham, High Lord of the Infinite Lands. He could make it through this conversation. He would.

"I will bestow you with a relic instead," Sojourn continued, though Tim was under no illusion that the god-like being was unaware of Tim's feelings, "since your current blessing and one of mine would not be compatible."

Because the one who blessed my family was Astri? Tim hysterically wondered, Or because it's in the nature of your blessings and those of the gods to fight?

Tim's eyes shot to Jason before he could think better of it, settling back on the Ancient in front of him before he could even properly see his brother.

Only then did the words of Sojourn catch up with Tim. A relic?! How- What- Why would the Ancient give something like that to Tim?!

If Tim had been stunned because of the magic items earlier, now he felt like he couldn't even comprehend what was happening anymore. A relic. A relic! That was on a whole other level than a magic item.

Relics weren't just enchanted things. They were imbued with the essence of a divine being. It may be but a whisper of their might, but to a mortal that was far beyond understanding already. Their effects could not be stopped by magic. In fact, if activated there was nothing anyone could do to persevere against whatever they did. A relic was not meant to be in mortal hands.

And yet. Tim watched as the Ancient, who had reached into the sleeve of his cloak at some point, retrieved a parchment. And he held it out to Tim.

As gasps filled the room, even from Danny himself, Tim's eyes flit around the table to the guests attending. Clark looked frightened, and Kaldur'ahm like he might pass out. Tim could understand that, really. He almost wished he could be allowed to do just that. Tim's eyes met those of Paladin Hal Jordan, who watched Tim equal parts grim and worried. Tim appreciated that the paladin hadn't made an enemy out of the Ancient even though Sojourn was obviously hated by Eose, whom Jordan served. Still, he kind of wished for some intervention right now.

Tim couldn't possibly accept this gift. It was a test. It had to be, right? Oh, gods, please let it be a test. But, then again, when he looked at Sojourn, Tim had no idea how he could deny the gift. Even if that was the right Danny had just given him, denying an Ancient was just…

"This," Tim could distantly hear the Ancient say and he tried desperately to pay attention but felt like his mind was too overwhelmed to remember how to do that, "is the Infi-Map." The name rang through the dead silence of the room with importance, with power. "It is a map infused with part of my power-" Yes

Tim thought and almost whimpered, because it's a relic.

"-and the only map adjusting to the ever changing distances within our home. With this, you will be able to travel anywhere in the Infinite Lands at all. Take it." Just as soon as Sojourn had demanded that of Tim, something in his posture shifted. He looked more relaxed, almost amused. Tim felt he could finally breathe again. "And, please, make sure not to loose it."

Loose it?! Tim swallowed down his response to that immediately. It felt much too disrespectful, even if it came from a place of shock, hysteria and incredulity. Because loose a relic? Who could ever be careless and stupid enough to manage something like that?!

"One time," Tim heard Danny sigh quietly, "I lost it one time."

And gods! Tim might just faint after all, consequences be damned. He at least would not have to deal with them. What had his husband done?

He was pretty sure he'd just heard Roy whimper. Or maybe that had been a noble near him. Tim was feeling too faint to make that out right now.

"Your husband will be able to teach you how to use it," Sojourn continued much too casually, and still holding the relic out for Tim to take, "He has borrowed this from me from time to time. Though nobody has been the holder of this artefact yet in this century. Maybe even the last."

There was no escaping this, Tim suddenly realised. He would be the holder of a relic, of an artefact, of a piece of an Ancient's might.

With all his strength, Tim managed to muster a bad, shaky facsimile of a smile. Trembling, watching carefully for any sign that this was the wrong thing to do, Tim reached out. His fingers met rough parchment. It felt leathery under his skin, and flaky. As though one wrong move would break it. A thought Tim refused to dwell on, for the sake of his remaining sanity.

Still no sign that this was not what Sojourn wanted. So Tim breathed in. Out. His fingers curled around the parchment, the relic, and gripped it carefully but tight. Slowly, carefully, Tim took it. Sojourn, to Tim's surprise, let go of it easily.

When he got a nod of approval for that, it felt like salvation.

"Now," the Ancient continued, addressing both of them again. And why, why did he continue? How could he keep on going after that? "This next thing is not a gift from me alone. In fact, my cousins and I have been talking and we decided to give this to you now. After all, you are a Child of the Lands now, too, and will need a proper form of identification."

Tim was too stunned still to process any of that. The only thing he understood, having to close his eyes for a moment to gather himself, was that by cousins Sojourn must mean the other Ancients.

Sojourn reached into the other sleeve and procured something that was shaped like a batarang. Well, almost. The angles on the underside of the wings didn't quite match a batarang's, but it was close enough that it would still be functional. The real question was what was it made of?

Tim had never seen a stone like this before. It was dark, almost black. But it also looked as though it would be transparent if it was just a little thinner. Electric blue, pure white and neon purple were flaked throughout the material and as it shifted in the light it reflected in a rainbow, almost like oil. It gleamed like metal, was as smooth as one and yet somehow it still looked like a precious gem. And even to Tim's undeveloped, dull, barely-there senses it hummed with magic, like it was resonating with something.

It was beautiful. It also was very obviously magic.

"This is a soul shard," Sojourn announced as he held the item out for Tim to take. Warily, Tim did as non-verbally told. "We shaped it after your family's traditional weapon."

Yeah, Tim thought, an unsettled feeling rooting itself into Tim's stomach, I can see that. But why? Was it some intimidation tactic, suing the ass up their sleeve as the inspiration for this? Because in that case Tim felt the strong need to assure the Ancient that this was completely unnecessary. Just talking to Sojourn alone was plenty intimidating.

"A soul shard is bestowed upon every Child of the Lands during the course of their life," Sojourn continued, completely ignoring Tim's mental struggles, "either when being acknowledged as an adult or when achieving something substantial. Only divine beings such as Ancients or the gods can make these." Which confirmed that the Ancients really were the children of the Divine Gods. So that hadn't just been immortals over-interpreting something. Tim had still kind of hoped. "If you allow your magic to flow into it, it will light up in a pattern unique to your soul. In the Lands, we use this as a form of identification as the resonance with your soul and therefor the pattern it builds can not be imitated or falsified."

Ah, yes. Let's use a magic item that had been created by either a god or an Ancient as a form of identification. Because that was a completely normal idea to have. No, worse, who had implemented an idea like that?

"Thank you," Tim could hear himself say, "It's quite pretty. Did you make this?"

"Not personally," Sojourn shook his head, "I would have liked to, but one of my cousins insisted he be the one to do this."

"Oh, my. I'm honoured," Tim smiled, because what else could he even say to that. There were multiple Ancients that were interested in him? Already? He'd expected to be of some not to them, perhaps, due to his connection to Danny. But this felt like something entirely different.

"Yes. A shame he had to miss your weddings. But considering I am the only one amongst my cousins not banished to the Infinite Lands… I am sure if they had thought our parents would have allowed us, all of us would have liked to be in attendance."

"Is that so?" Tim laughed politely, even as he experienced some dizziness at the thought. No, no, one Ancient at once was more than too much. "Well, I understand my husband is very cherished by you and your cousins. I'm very sorry to deprive them of the opportunity. I had no idea they would be interested."

"Oh, it is fine," Sojourn waved off, as though Tim had not just been told that he'd accidentally slighted six out of seven Ancients, "This is your day, and you two should be the ones making all the decisions. My cousins understand. Mostly, they are just sad that I was the one who got to attend, even though I am not one of your Guardian Ancients."

"I can understand how that would be unfavourable, yes," Tim nodded and tried not to feel sick about it.

"Of course," Sojourn continued causally, "I got to take my niece here and see both my nephews, so I am quite happy with how it turned out. If I was your Guardian, I am sure my cousins would feel less excluded, of course."

"Of course," Tim agreed, still thinking about how he could quell the anger he might have accidentally drawn upon himself, "I see how that would solve the issue."

"Oh?," Sojourn hummed delightedly, clapping his hands together, "How compassionate! Let us do that, then."

What? What had Tim just agreed on? He couldn't remember agreeing to any offer. "Pardon?"

"I said let us do that, then. I shall be your Guardian henceforth." Tim could only stare, at least able to make sure his mouth didn't drop open. What? "I am so glad we could solve that. Now!" Once more, the Ancient clapped and sounded much too amused for Tim's liking. "I think your husband has also prepared a gift for you."

With that, he just turned and sat back down. What had just…? What did this mean?

Chapter Text

Danny's gift had been placed in a wooden chest. It was small, about the size from his fingers to his elbow and about a hand tall. Feathers had been caved in and dusted with gold leaf, though, making it seem luxurious regardless.

"This," Danny said as Feather's fiancé brought the chest over to them, "is something I made myself."

"Thank you, my dear," Tim answered and he didn't even have to try to smile. He knew it was probably something as impossible to imagine as the rest of Danny's clan had given them, but Tim still felt warm at the thought of his husband making a gift fro Tim himself. Of course he was scared of opening that box and finding out just what was inside it, but for now Tim decided to just allow himself a moment to bask in that warm, fuzzy feeling.

He felt like he deserved this after the last few moments of utter madness.

"Ah, you should probably also keep the box," Danny suddenly mentioned, as though just remembering it, "Unless you have something else magic resistant to store this in."

It took a lot of effort for Tim's smile not to freeze. Of course even the gods damned chest was a magic item. And magic resistance? Wasn't that a magic property found in only a few materials to begin with? It couldn't be enchanted, either. Which meant that this chest was a very rare, very valuable gift by itself.

Now Tim was kind of scared of damaging it. Then again, if not even magic could accomplish that then Tim shouldn't be able to do it accidentally. Right?

Careful, slowly, Tim opened the chest. Inside were… feathers?

They were beautiful. Each feather was about as long as the palm of Tim's hand and they shimmered with a beautiful ombre of red and orange. A few golden or bright yellow barbs were threaded through them irregularly. It made each of the feathers unique, Tim noted. When he reached into the chest to take out one of them, the feathers felt fluffy and soft and warm against his skin. The same warmth that he knew from long nights spend with Jason in the library, reading in companionable silence in front of the hearth.

The feathers had been stitched to a piece of sleek, cool fabric, Tim noted in surprise. Carefully, Tim grabbed a hold of the gift and pulled it out, revealing a cloak.

It was pretty, in a way. Long enough to reach Tim's ankles and the feathers were positioned carefully in a way that made the garment look less gaudy and more impressive. Clothes utilising feathers, Tim knew from experience, could easily look disheveled or ruffled, but this one looked almost sleek. The black, silky fabric that felt almost like a liquid in Tim's hands made the vibrant colours of the cloak shine even brighter. The hood, he noticed, wasn't adorned by any feathers.

When Tim stood and carefully tried the garment on, it was flowing down his back beautifully, leaving his arms free. He would be able to drape it all around himself if he wanted, however, though the cut of it made sure it wouldn't get in his way unless he did pull it around himself. And it felt… warm. A soft warmth, which Tim had no doubt was of magical nature. It felt like a hug or warming his hands above a fire on long campaigns. Comfortable, if he dared to think about it.

"It's a phoenix feather cloak," Danny explained, sounding almost shy about it, as though anyone could ever be unsatisfied by something of this calibre, "Phoenix feathers have a few magical properties, and I am not good with alchemy. So this uses the magical properties of the material rather than enchantments or rune magic."

He said this, Tim noted dryly, as though an item using just the magical properties of its materials somehow wasn't more impressive. Considering that the materials alone had to be worth a fortune and had to be combined with great care for this to work, this cloak must have been worth more than the castle they were currently residing in.

"Wearing this has a few magical effects," Danny continued, still sounding as though this should all be no big deal, "The feathers won't burn, so if you cover yourself with it you will be able to run through fire for a few moments, and it will shield somewhat you against fire magic. They also melt magic ice, which means attack spells utilising ice won't be as effective if you wear this. Mainly, though, they are always warm. So as long as you wear this you won't ever feel cold. The winters in the Lands are harsh, but with this you should be able to stay comfortable."

Of course. It was all Tim could do not to break out into hysterical, maniacal laughter. Because Danny had just casually given Tim a magic item with no less than four magical properties, the kind of thing that could decide wars. But, of course, the most important thing was that it would help Tim be comfortable.

What even had become of his life? Truthfully, Tim's sanity hadn't had a chance to survive the moment he'd stood up back in the Watchtower fortress, had it?

"It's wonderful," Tim said, because words couldn't possibly describe how impressive this cloak was but he could at least try, "Thank you."

"Of course!" Danny smiled brightly, obviously pleased that Tim liked the gift he'd gotten him. Then, he hesitated. "Ah. Be careful when to wear it, though. Since I have an ice core, magic fire is a lot more effective on me. It's a caveat I can mostly negate through my blessing of healing, but touching the cloak or you when you wear this will burn me. You can wear it whenever you want, of course, just… something to keep in mind, I suppose."

And, oh. Tim must look absolutely besotted right now. Because as mind-boggling and dramatic as the delivery might have been, that was still sweet. And very much the kind of kindness that Tim had learned to expect from Danny by now.

Their marriage was political in nature, no matter how close they had gotten over the last few weeks. And the Infinite Lands were very obviously the nation with more power here, or rather with all the power. What little sway Gotham had over the Lands was because of the treaty the Lands had drafted and because of the marriage between Tim and Danny. It wasn't power they had in this relationship, it was power that had been given. In other words, it was power that could easily be taken away again.

When Tim had agreed to all of this, he had accepted that he would be little more than a play thing for the rest of his life. The exact kind of trophy his mother had raised him to be: Pretty, caring, desirable, just something to have and to brag with but certainly not a person whose opinions would ever again be valued.

He had resolved himself to accept that, to live with that and make due, because Danny could have turned Tim into that. Tim's entire future was in Danny's hands now. If he hadn't liked something about Tim he could have demanded Tim change it, under threat to his family and his home. Tim had been scared of it, had expected his future to be bleak.

And yet, Danny had proved to be the exact opposite. He liked when Tim spoke his mind. He wanted Tim to voice his opinions, and he wanted to take them into consideration when he made a decision. Danny may like that Tim was nice to look at, yes, but even if Tim was at his prettiest Danny would still ask about his comfort. He didn't demand Tim's care, though he enjoyed it. Instead, he seemed to be set on somehow earning the right to it, and took pride in showing his people what Tim willingly gave him.

He wasn't scared of the future anymore, because if it was Danny who decided what it would be like, then it would be a wonderful, warm and bright one. By now, Tim was sure of that. Even if Danny didn't yet love him, even if his feelings would never grow beyond the infatuation Tim had managed to sow the seeds of. Because no matter what, Tim knew Danny would neither leave him abandoned nor would he abuse him.

However, that didn't change that his fears back then had had their reason. Even if Danny didn't plan to abuse his power over Tim, he still had it.

And then, Danny gifted Tim something like this for their wedding. He knew he told Danny that the wedding gifts were about wishes for the marriage. He knew Danny knew about the significance of the choice of gift and how it was presented.

And Danny had just declared, in front of the nobility of the entire continent and in front of an Ancient, that it would be Tim's choice whether Danny could touch him. Not that Tim had feared anything of the sort since getting to know Danny, but the nobles didn't know that. And even if they had known, Danny had just given his word. It wasn't just about him not being the kind of person who would do something like that, it was about his honour now. An added layer of protection.

You will be protected. Your comfort will be prioritised. And, perhaps most importantly, I won't take more than you are willing to offer freely. Those were not insignificant promises, especially in a marriage like theirs. Especially considering that Tim was, at the end of the day, still leverage over his father - even if he was confident that he had managed to carve out space to be much more than just that.

"I see," Tim simply said, not feeling the need to spell any of that out. But when he looked up, he saw vicious, heart-breaking relief mirrored in the faces of his entire family. Well, almost. Curiously, Damian only looked smug about the exchange. Had he had a hand in making Danny promise this publicly? It was possible.

As Tim carefully took off the cloak again, folded it neatly and set it back into the magic box, he allowed himself to think about the other gift again. For a moment, he had been too overwhelmed by the nature of them to truly consider what they meant.

A dagger that could not be taken from Tim, that would hurt all those trying to hurt him. A set of those, rather, which meant that Tim could act in defence of Danny and Danny in defence of Tim. I hope you'll keep each other safe, but also you will be allowed to defend yourself no matter what.

A mystical creature that would be able to deliver uninterceptable messages to his family and act as a companion to Tim. You will neither be alone nor isolated.

And that relic from Sojourn. Something that would give him free passage to anywhere in the nation he would soon live in. You will be free.

So, yes. Tim's mere existence was still leverage. And yet, despite everything being in the favour of the Lands, he had been given back control over his future. Publicly.

The gifts he had gotten today, those weren't just magic items the likes of which Tim would have never seen in his life otherwise. And he couldn't believe that he was able to apply that word in this context, but still. The true gift he had been given, thoroughly steeped in magic like anything from the Lands, was power. Power and respect, which would allow Tim to almost stand as Danny's equal. Socially, at least.

"Thank you," Tim told Danny, though it felt like those words couldn't even begin to encompass what this meant to Tim. Maybe he'd known before, but Danny had made it tangible. Real. In one smooth motion, Tim sat back next to his husband and took his gloved hand in both of his. Gently, he placed a kiss on the back of it.

Danny had given Tim the chance to choose what would happen. And he knew his answer already. He'd known the answer before, from the moment he'd realised who Danny was beyond the duties of Phantom.

Slowly, Tim moved Danny's hand to cradle his face. Leaning into the touch, Tim gave Danny a soft smile. He didn't say anything, didn't need to. And still, his answer rippled through the room in the form of minute reactions from their audience. This, Tim thought, hoping Danny understood, is what I want.

Danny smiled back. His free hand reached out to Tim, slowly enough that he could have protested if he'd been so inclined. It came to rest on the back of his head and drew him closer to Danny.

The kiss they shared was soft. Chastise, almost, especially compared to the one in the temple.

For a moment, they just stayed close like that, their breaths intertangling with each other. Tim kept his eyes closed, focused instead on the warmth of Danny's lips just out of reach of his own, the hand still cradling his face clasped in his own and the steady, grounding pressure of the one at the back of his head. It was comfortable, and for a moment, just that moment, Tim could actually delude himself that Danny felt just as strongly as Tim did.

It was nice to pretend. Even if Tim knew that Danny's feelings towards him were different. Softer, it seemed, more steady. Not nearly as painfully desperate or agonisingly overwhelming.

They were there, though. They had to be. Even if Danny's heart wasn't burning as frantically as Tim's seemed to he still had to care. Why else would his thumb caress his cheekbone so tenderly? Why else would he keep Tim this close even if the kiss was long over?

Tim didn't care whether it was out of obligation, some sense of responsibility or simply the small budding of a comfortable, soft kind of love. Danny liked him. He cared for him. He felt something, and Tim knew that he did.

Tim took a deep breath in and opened his eyes. Blue met glowing green. A smile was playing with Danny's lips. It was cute.

If I can manage to make him keep looking at me like that, Tim thought, scaring himself with the thought and yet daring to think it all the way to the end anyways, I don't know how far I'd be willing to go for that, how much I would be willing to sacrifice.

Love makes you weak, my dear boy, and that weakness it terribly easy to take advantage of, he remembered his mother saying once upon a time, could almost hear her voice in his ear, so you have to always make sure that it is your spouse that falls for you and not the other way around. Do not give anyone that much control over you, you hear?

That, Tim noticed, was one word of advice that somehow hadn't turned out to be wrong. And yet he didn't feel bad that it was far too late and he'd apparently disregarded everything his mother had raised him to be. Not if it was Danny he'd so hopelessly fallen for.

"How did he get those feathers?" Tim suddenly heard Damian whisper, his voice loud in the silence of the room. Tim hoped that Danny and his brother knew the littlest prince well enough by now to know that had not been a demeaning but a curious tone of voice.

It was a good question, however. Tim suddenly remembered when Danny had first explained their clan name. He'd said that a phoenix was a revered being in the Lands, that hurting it or hunting it was even a crime. So how did Danny get any feathers? Let alone enough for an entire cloak?

Seeing Tim's curious gaze, Danny chuckled. Sadly, he released Tim again, leaning back in his chair. "I collected them over the years," he answered both Damian and Tim in equal measure, "Hurting a phoenix is a crime in the Lands, but if you help them they sometimes gift you something of theirs as thanks. There was this one mother who asked me to protect her hatchlings, and then later one of the chicks contracted an illness and she asked for my help again. I haven't seen them in well over a year by now, but the flock ended up living in the keep with me for a while before moving on, and close by for a little longer after that."

Danny had the nerve to shrug, as though that was a completely normal thing to say. "She gave me a lot of shedded feathers over the years. Some tears, too, and she allowed me to keep a bit of blood from that one injury I helped her recover from…" He smiled, as though that was some fond memory and not something utterly outrageous. "Anyways, as I said, I can't really touch the feathers so I never used any of them before. They are a bit stronger than the average phoenix feather, though, considering she shed most of them while hatching her young."

That…

Tim didn't even have the energy left to process all the implications of that. For now, he was just glad that his husband couldn't say something much more outlandish than this. It was good to know that finally the threshold for ludicrous happenings had been reached.

"Adding armour would have been a good idea, I think," Sojourn mused, "He is a capable warrior, after all, and you do have a lot of dragon scales, too."

What?!

"True," Danny said, forcing Tim to take back what he'd just thought, "But dragon scale armour is horribly uncomfortable at first, and it would have taken way too long to make. Not to mention that I didn't have the exact measurements, and I don't really have a basilisk forge here, either."

"That's too bad," Sojourn hummed, "It would have gone well together."

"Yes. Alas, the armor will have to wait. For now."

Did… Danny had not just said he planned on making and gifting Tim dragon scale armour. Right?

"Oh!" Tucker clapped his hands together excitedly, looking keen on the idea in a way that made Tim worry greatly, "I have wisp essence and wyrm blood back home. Do you figure…?"

For some reason, Danny seemed thoughtful. "It'd be a good idea, I guess. But who would we ask? That's not normally your expertise, right?"

"Well, while I do specialise in potion-based alchemy and rune crafts, I do know my way around materialistic alchemy, too. If you lend me a bit of your magic I can do that much."

Snorting, Lord Dantrey took a sip from his wine. "Admit it, nerd boy, you just want to finally use the wyrm blood."

"Leave him alone, brother," Danny's sister called from somewhere further down the table, "There's not a lot of things he can use it for, and you know he loves that kind of enchantments. If he uses it for that, at least it's not a waste. And also, moron, alchemist, should we really be discussing this right now?"

Danny hummed, considering her from where he sat next to Tim. "Seeing as how you asked, I'm going to wager a guess that it's a topic for another time." When his sister raised her glass towards Danny, the High Chief sighed and gave his friend an apologetic smile. "Right. Celebration now, future projects later."

Tim, understanding that as the sign to move on that it was, gave a subtle wave to one of the waiting staff. The man nodded and ducked out of the room to have the food served.

"I want to thank you, too, High Chief," Bruce smiled towards Danny as silence started to stretch.

Smiling back, Danny laughed. "I didn't do much. And besides, no need to be so formal, your royal majesty. I'm your son-in-law, aren't I? Please, address me comfortably."

Bruce hesitated for a bit, confusion and insecurity clear to see for Tim but probably not for anyone outside of the family. "So how would you have me address you, then?"

"Hm… Son-in-law. Son. By my chosen name. The choice is yours, really. But you don't have to name me by title, we're closer than that. At least I'd like to think so, don't you agree?"

"I suppose," Bruce agreed, almost not sounding strained at all.

Tim, though, only smiled into his cup. If he read this right, and he thought he did, then that meant Danny would extent his graces to Tim's family as well, right? All the kindness he had chosen to bestow on Tim based on the title of "fiancé" and now "husband" alone - and now Danny had claimed the rest of Gotham's royal family as important by association as well.

Chapter Text

"Have you tried this yet?"

Danny didn't wait for Dan to answer before taking his plate and depositing some of the stuffed dates and a few candied figs on it. Dan had a sweet tooth and this wasn't something he could enjoy back home, after all. Thinking for a bit, Danny also placed some of the honey roasted meat on the plate and, because he knew his brother tended to ignore all the healthy options, a bit of the fresh salad. Satisfied, he placed the plate back in front of his brother - and received a supremely annoyed look for his efforts.

"What?"

"Brother…" Dan sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. He looked up at Danny through his fingers and said, instead of answering, sighing once more: "Worry about yourself first. You're the one who should eat more."

Rolling his eyes at the old argument, Danny waved his brother off. "I've been eating just well. Sister? You should-"

"Brother," Ellie snapped from the other end of the table when Danny turned to her next, spearing a caramelised carrot with objectively too much force, "don't even think about it. I can take care of my own meal. Stop being stupid and eat."

"I am," Danny sighed. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

Danny looked down at his own plate, mostly full with small portions of almost all these different kinds of dishes. He tried the carrots Ellie had eaten earlier. They were delicious, actually. They went really well with the potatoes. Danny wasn't sure just what it was, but those were really good. Better even than normal.

Wait, speaking off that…

Turning to his left again, Danny watched Tuck eat for a bit. He was just eating meat again. Frowning, Danny cast his eyes over the table. There had to be something he could interest his friend in, surely? Ah-hah! "Tucker? Did you see, they made red cabbage with apples. Did you have any? I remember you telling me you missed them, just a few moons ago."

Tucker looked up at Danny without pausing in his meal. Deliberately, he used his knife to push a bit of the cabbage in question and a little bit of the beef he'd been eating onto the back of his fork. Delicately, perfectly polite and proper he placed it in his mouth and chewed - all while maintaining eye contact with Danny. Once he'd swallowed, Tuck grinned at him. "It's very good, sire. Did you try it yet?"

"I did," Danny confirmed, half-amused and half-annoyed at the antics of his friend. Speaking of friends, though… "Sa-"

"I'm happy with my meal, yes."

"But are there-"

"There's plenty of options for me to choose from."

"But is it filling enough without the-"

"There is more than just side dishes that meet my requirements. Of course there are. The youngest prince also doesn't partake in the killing of and feasting on animals. Remember?"

Ah. Right. Nodding, even though Sam still hadn't so much as twitched her head in his direction, Danny relaxed a bit. "Good."

"Quite," Sam confirmed smugly. Then, finally glancing up at him, she pointed with her fork across the table. "Try the baked mushrooms. They're particularly well made. The filling is made with dates, honey, cottage cheese and a hint of nuts. I rather think you would enjoy them."

Huh. That did sound nice. But… "Will you-"

"I and the prince both will still have more than enough to eat if we share with you. Don't worry. There is plenty of food here."

Even though his friend sounded perfectly clam and sweet, Danny somehow got the feeling that she was threatening him. With what or into what, for that matter, wasn't clear to him, however.

Watching her for a little longer, Danny nodded to himself and took one of the mushrooms in question. Sam had been right, they were really good. The filling particularly. Danny should ask for the recipe. They didn't have many mushrooms like these back home, but it would also go well on scones, he thinks. Like the ones his husband had served a while ago.

Oh! Oh, no. Danny had been neglecting him, hadn't he? He'd been asking everyone else about the food, taking care of them, but he hadn't asked his husband even once.

Fork halfway to his mouth, Danny lowered it again, turning to the man next to him. He looked happy enough, but this was also a public meal. And he knew that politics here in the South could get vicious, especially during shared meals - both mum and Ollie used to tell him about that all the time back way when.

When Danny looked down, he noticed the plate was about half filled. He'd chosen a little meat, and none of the sea food. Vegetables, too, but none of the green ones? Hm… And he seemed to prefer the roasted dishes over the cooked ones. None of the sweet things, Danny realised.

He'd said he liked chilli dogs, right? When he'd taken Danny out to see more of Bristol. They'd shared a snack from a vendor, and Danny might have been a bit distracted by the food and, yes, by the way Danny enjoying it seemed to make his husband very happy. A privilege he'd been warmed by even then. Still, he also remembered what they'd talked about. Chilli dogs, he'd said, were served a lot in Park Row, that border city Prince Jason was born in, and was a nostalgic dish to Prince Timothy due to having shared it with his brother many times.

There weren't any chilli dogs served tonight - something about etiquette and proper imagine and other such non substantial things that really shouldn't get in the way of important people enjoying themselves, Danny would guess - but maybe something similar? Savoury, spicy, preferably more on the simple side, and with either something akin to bread or condiments…

There was a sauce further down. It was a deep red, almost the colour of wine, with small pieces of vegetables and meat in it. Danny took the pot and placed a small amount onto his potatoes to taste it first. It was a bit spicy, for Gotham's standards. It wasn't the same sort of spicy that came from chilli flakes, more like ginger and red pepper. It was a bit salty for Danny's taste, but it was rich and hearty and probably as close to a chilli dog as was possible. It tasted good, too, like anything else on the table.

"Husband?" When Danny called him, his heart immediately turned to Danny in interest. "Have you eaten any of this yet? I think that's something you would like, considering your tastes. Right?"

When Danny offered him the pot, his heart looked confused for a moment. He glanced down at the pot, then back to Danny, back to the pot and then somewhere to the side of Danny. For a moment, Danny feared he'd made a mistake. Maybe his husband didn't appreciate being handed food? Or he didn't like this dish at all. Maybe he didn't like talking about his preferences in food in front of guests? Dorothea was like that, too.

But then, to his great relief, Danny's heart smiled at him gently, something passing through his eyes too fast for Danny to make out. "I do, actually, thank you. In fact, this is a family recipe. My mother, Duchess Drake, used to make this goulash for me whenever I felt nervous about something as a child, so it has become somewhat of a comfort food to me. Have you tried it with bread yet? That's the original way to eat this."

Not sure what was happening, Danny watched as his heart took a small bowl and filled it with a scoop of the dish. He took a piece of herbal bread and dunked it into the bowl, using the bread to scoop up some of the meat and a small piece of vegetable. To Danny's great surprise, he didn't take a bit if that himself, but offered it to Danny instead. "Here, try this."

Not sure how he'd ended up in this position but certainly not about to refuse his heart, Danny leaned forward to take a bit out of his husband's hand. Chewing on the bread slowly, Danny noted that, yes, it tasted even better this way.

Before Danny could say as much, however, his heart all but gasped. "Oh! But you should try it on its own, too. Here, allow me."

When Danny was offered a spoon full of the dish, he was about to decline the offer. His husband should be eating himself, after all. It was Danny's job as the head of the clan to make sure everyone was cared for and everybody's needs had been met. He shouldn't be in the way of his husband eating!

But then he saw the hopeful look his husband was giving him and the words died in his throat. Smiling at his heart, Danny leaned forward again. That was good, too, but Danny preferred the version with the bread. Since his heart sent him a questioning look, Danny swallowed and told him that thought.

Danny wasn't sure why, but it seemed to make his heart happy.

"You should eat the broth first, then, and eat the meat and vegetables after. They will still taste like the broth and spices, but the flavour come out more that way," the Gothamite decided, reaching for another piece of bread. To Danny's relief he took a bite of it himself this time. Good. He should eat things that make him happy. That was good.

Making a mental note that his husband liked dishes like this, and to look into similar dishes back home later, Danny turned to look at Tucker in thought. He liked meat, and he liked ginger. He wondered, would Danny be able to make Tucker try this dish at least? It could really be something he'd enjoy, even if it might not be his first choice…

"Oh! Dearest?" Called back to attention by the voice of his heart, Danny turned back again, humming in acknowledgment. His husband was smiling at him, then delicately placed some of the dishes from his own plate onto his fork. "If you liked that, I do think this combination might suit your taste. Are you willing to try?"

Danny had his own food, though. Then again, looking at that excited smile Danny couldn't imagine there was anything he wouldn't immediately try.

Tim kept it up throughout the meal.

He'd had a rising suspicion since pretty early on in the meal. Seeing Danny eat with this many members of his clan for the first time, it hadn't taken long for Tim to notice how the strange habit of offering his brother any and all food he liked himself seemed to have been amplified and applied to everyone he cared about.

What had really set him on the trail had been the exasperation in all of their faces when Danny had kept interrupting his own meal to talk to the other members of clan Phoenix.

He hadn't eaten more than a couple of bites even half an hour into the meal.

Tim had been surprised to be included in the list, even if it had seemed to be an afterthought to this clearly well-established routine. Still, it had given him an opportunity. One he hadn't hesitated to grasp onto.

It made sense, Tim supposed. All those comments Lord Dantrey had made about Danny not eating right, about how he should eat more or concentrate on his own meal. Seeing his brother-in-law's resigned expression earlier, Tim had remembered something Danny had told him. "Providing for the clan is one of the most important jobs of a clan leader. I hunt most of the game me and my family eat myself, and I make sure we make dishes everyone will enjoy," was it?

Danny had sounded so proud about that task. Like he thought it was a high honour for him to be the one assuring his clan's comfort. Tim had wondered a bit about that, but now that he knew Danny better he could really see why.

Danny was the type of man to make himself suffer for the happiness of those he felt responsible for. Danny was the kind of man who didn't mind becoming a monster or a villain or someone cruel if it was truly necessary for the good of those he cared about. Even if he would not usually cross a line, he would do so if it meant his clan was safe. Tim understood that now.

A man like that, Tim supposed, who put his duty and his loved ones before himself, was liable to forget himself in the line of those duties.

It seemed to be a common issue, Tim mused as he offered his husband a bite of baked vegetables. At least common enough for every single member in his clan to tell him he should focus on his own meal or to try the dishes himself every time. It only ever seemed to work for a bite or two, however.

"I'm not sure what I think about these," Tim lied easily when his husband took the offered food, "What do you think?" And then, when Danny took a moment to think, he offered another bite. "Here, try again. It think that might make it easier to decide, perhaps."

Tim smiled as Danny complied with him again, as he'd done all evening. Maybe he should feel a bit guilty for manipulating his husband, but he couldn't really find it in himself. Not when Danny looked so much more relaxed, as though Tim had managed to clear his mind or absolved him of his responsibilities. Besides, his brother-in-law seemed more than happy enough about the development.

So Tim kept it up, ate something himself and, when Danny seemed to get distracted again, gently redirected his husband's focus back on the meal by asking about some of the food or offering him something to try.

It was, admittedly, a bit embarrassing. Siting here, watched by the high nobility of not only their own nation but the surrounding ones as well, leaving what would probably be his last impression on them for a long time… He never would have thought he would do something like this in a situation such as that. Taking charge of the situation, all but feeding his husband, being affectionate and ignoring what was proper to do it.

However, by the end of the meal Danny had emptied his plate and eaten about a second one in smaller bites from Tim's plate. Tim thought that might be worth it. A feeling that was deepened even further when Lord Dantrey met his eye and gave him a nod in acknowledgement. "Thank you," his lips mutely formed, and Tim could only smile shyly in answer.

Desert was served after that, cakes and tarts and candied fruit. The hitch of a breath next to Tim drew his attention, and he found his husband staring at a plate of fudge with a complicated mix of emotions. Lord Dantrey, too, followed his brother's gaze. Differently to Tim, however, he seemed to understand what was the cause of it. Gently, the taller warrior reached out and squeezed his brother's hand.

It seemed to take a while longer until Danny seemed to remember how to breathe and tore his eyes away from the dish, blinking as though to hide tears. He pointedly avoided looking in the same direction again.

Fudge, Tim remembered, had originally been invented in Star. It used to be a desert favoured by wealthy commoners but made its way through all social classes a few decades ago. Nowadays it was enjoyed all throughout the continent, though Star was the kingdom with the highest consumption still.

Then, perhaps this was about a memory? Considering how Danny had, apparently, been thrown out of his family when he'd first been blessed and made his way over into the Lands…

He still loved his mother dearly. Even if he hadn't forgiven her for the way she'd treated him. Much like Tim still loved his parents, even if he could acknowledge by now that their ideas of proper teachings had been… fallible. So it would make sense, then, that many memories had turned bitter sweet for Danny. A mixture of pain and anger, and painful longing.

Dessert came with after-meal-tea, however. Intercepting the servant who was about to place down Danny's tea cup, Tim chose a strong blend of Assam with lavender and a bit of cinnamon, adding sugar and milk the way Danny liked it. Carefully, he set the filled cup down next to his husband's dessert plate.

"There you go," Tim smiled, "It's a very calming blend. I quite like it."

Curious, Danny picked up the cup. He raised it to his face, then hesitated. "Lavender?" he guessed. When Tim nodded, he hummed, taking only a small sip into his mouth. "Oh. And cinnamon, too." He drank more, then turned to Tim with a smile. "It's sweet."

"I added sugar," Tim smiled, preparing his own cup, "I know you have quite the sweet tooth, after all."

Laughing, Danny finally relaxed again. Good. It had worked, then. "I can't deny that," Danny agreed, "Sweet and warm is one of my favourite combinations for drinks."