Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian ducked under blaster fire, slicing off one of the alien commander’s robotic arms. Apparently, these aliens were well-known enough to draw the attention of many of the lantern corps when they’d attacked earth, and various colored beams were flying every which way. He watched as a stray laser went straight through the stomach of a blue woman in an embarrassingly skimpy pink outfit.

Still, he had a duty to all of these people, and Brown would get the wrong kind of angry at him if he judged people on their clothing (or lack thereof), so he went to see if she could be saved.

He ran over to her, hiding behind the debris of a building, and checked her pulse. Nothing. Not that that told him anything, since he had no fucking clue where the pulse would be on an alien, but still.

As he examined the wound, pulling out his supply of bat-bandages, the ring on her finger began to glow, then flew off her hand. Dead, then. A shame.

A voice rang out- not the mechanical tone of a green lantern ring, but something warmer, full of life. “Damian Wayne of Earth,” it said, “you have shown compassion in the midst of battle. You have loved and lost-”

“No,” Damian said. “Go find someone else.”

The ring was silent for a moment, then continued. “You have loved and lost, been scorned and scorned in return. Take up the Star Sapphire oath.”

Before Damian could continue protesting, he found himself frozen, unable to move. He watched in horror as pink crystal grew from the ground around him, encasing first his feet, then his legs- it moved quickly, too quickly. Damian took a last desperate breath before the crystal sealed over his face.

-

For hearts long lost and full of fright,

For those alone in blackest night,

Accept our ring and join our fight,

Love conquers all--

With violet light!

-

When he awoke, he was on an alien landscape- perhaps literally, considering who he had just been fighting. Sharp crystal spires jutted out from the landscape around him, and the earth was cracked open in places to reveal pink volcanic fissures.

“Hello, Damian,” a deep voice behind him said.

It was the dead woman from before. That explained it, then. At least whatever afterlife this was seemed nicer than Hell.

“You are very much alive,” she said, her lip quirking up.

Do you possess some sort of mind-reading capabilities? Damian thought.

“I do now that I am dead. Or, to be more accurate, I am using the ring’s psychic connection to you, and have no abilities of my own.”

The ring? Damian held up his hand, which was now covered in a thick purple fabric. The star sapphire ring glowed proudly on, of course, his ring finger. Fantastic.

“Often, we are forced into heroism. But you know that already, don’t you?” The woman smiled.

Get out of my head, Damian thought, and filled his mind with the goriest memories he had, with death and destruction wreaked by his own hand.

“I only exist within the confines of your mind, Damian. I am an artificial replica of the personality of Coronus N’gana, the previous bearer of the ring. You are on our home planet, called Zamaron.”

“Lantern rings don’t do that,” Damian said. Surely one of the green lanterns would have mentioned an annoyance such as this.

“Most do not, even within the Star Sapphire Corps. Yours is an exception, along with a handful of others.”

Just great. He was an oddity even among the ranks of half-naked aliens. Seriously, why didn’t these people put some clothes on? Maybe if Coronus had had body armor, she wouldn’t have died, and Damian wouldn’t have been in this situation at all.

“The uniform of a Star Sapphire is a projection of light, and provides defense whether it is visible or not. My own, along with many of my associates, was more revealing because I was very confident in my own body and its appearance.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Damian’s full-body costume.

“I am not insecure,” Damian snapped.

“I never said you were.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Why must I have you here when the rest of the violet lanterns do not, anyway?”

“We are the keepers of many kinds of love. Many assume that we stand only for eros, romantic love, but that is not true. My ring, and now yours, is a ring of pragma, love between mentor and mentee. As such, it has the unique power to preserve my spirit, to serve as a mentor to you.” She spread her arms, striking a pose that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Greek statue.

“That’s not what pragma is. It’s not even from the same time period. It was defined as ‘practical or obligatory love’ by John Alan Lee in 1973. Your story is full of more holes than your stomach was when you died.” Damian crossed his arms.

“The cosmic forces of love do not care about John Alan Lee. Look, Damian. Like it or not, you were chosen for a reason. Did you know that the violet light alone relies on two emotions to function? Love, yes, but also rage. That is why we choose those who have been scorned by their loves to serve with us.”

“I would never place myself in a position to be scorned,” Damian scoffed. He would never allow himself that vulnerability.

“Really? You’ve never had a mentor abandon you?” Coronus raised an eyebrow.

Damian thought back to Father’s return, to waking up one day to a house without Richard in it, to finding, years later, the adoption papers stashed in a drawer, never completed.

“No,” he lied.

“Well then, perhaps your tenure with us will be short,” she said, not even bothering to disguise her amusement. “Come with me. It is time to meet with the council.”

Chapter Text

Damian followed the ghost simply because he had nothing better to do. If Father could figure out what planet he was on, it didn’t matter where on it he was. Besides, this woman had brought him here. Perhaps she knew how to send him back.

He wove through crystal spires, some of which appeared to have people inside them- future recruits? How long had he been trapped?- clambering over fissures and giving a wide berth to star sapphires lounging in various hot springs. The whole place was miserably humid and muggy.

Eventually, he came to the entrance of a cave. Two sapphires stood blocking the entrance, arms wrapped around each other. They began to speak, in eerie synchronicity.

“We are the eternal lovers,” they said. “We have not left this embrace in thousands of years, yet only one with enough mastery of love to separate us may enter.”

“Sira and Kygan, on ‘eternal lovers’ duty together? Those two hate each other. I do wonder what they did to upset the council- what are you doing with that sword? Damian, this is not the way of love. Put that down-” Coronus attempted to grab the sword Damian was waving threateningly, but failed due to being incorporeal.

One of the pair sprang backwards, leaving her ‘lover’ behind. “Oh my Gods, what’s wrong with you?” she cried.

“Nice going, Sira! Now we’re going to be stuck here even longer!” The other, presumably Kygan, said.

“Yeah, and I’d rather be alive with you than dead! I don’t hate you that much!” Sira said.

Kygan faltered for just a moment. “...Really?” She looked at Sira, doe-eyed.

Damian coughed loudly. “If you’re done, may I enter the cave? There are entirely too many nude women out here.”

Sira giggled. “Well, that’s not a complaint I’ve ever heard from a teenage boy!”

“This one is clearly not a champion of eros,” Kygan agreed.

“If you allow teenagers into your glorified sex cult, I’m calling the child protective services corps,” Damian said, shouldering past them.

The tunnel behind them was full of the only plant life he’d seen so far, vibrant pink vines that curled around jewel-like fruits. Damian brushed past them, walking into a beautiful cavern. It was like standing inside of a giant geode, what little light there was reflected hundreds of times until the room was filled with it.

The light illuminated nine crystal thrones in the middle of the room, eight of which were full. The room was deathly silent.

“Who are you?” Damian asked, perhaps a bit hostile. He felt like he’d earned the right to be rude.

The one furthest on the left spoke, setting off a chain reaction, one after another.

“I am Eros, passion, the burning of a heart.”

“I am Agape, the eternal priest, who loves only my God.”

“I am Philia, friendship, the battle-bond between sworn companions.”

“I am Storge, mother of all the world.”

“I am Philautia, and I am my own lover.”

“I am Xenia, the great hostess, who loves every stranger.”

“I am Ludus, childish love, bonds forged in blood.”

“And I am your patron. I have gone by many names- Chiron, Mentor, Cú Chulainn- but you may call me Pragma.”

Damian looked around the room. Some of them appeared more alien than others, but they were all distinctly not human. Storge in particular was some sort of arachnid, and although Agape wore a burqa, he caught a glimpse of scales through the mesh.

He was in a room with eight presumably incredibly powerful aliens, with no idea what he was doing and no way to get home. Tuesday.

“Ask them anything you want to know,” Coronus said.

“Where’s the ninth?”

Pragma tilted her head. “Hmm?”

“Nine chairs, eight of you. I assume the final one would be Mania, since you’re keeping up the pretense of being vaguely Greek. Where is she?”

“Mania has not left her lover’s grave in-”

“Let me guess: thousands of years. I’d really prefer it if you’d learn about shorter timeframes. I want to get out of here sometime this century. Why are you in charge, anyway?”

“I possess the ability to confer upon others the ultimate knowledge,” Pragma said.

Damian held out a hand expectantly.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Coronus said, but Damian ignored her.

Pragma stood up and kept standing, new waists and knees and torsos unfolding from beneath her flowing dress. Then, one of the joints vaguely in her middle bent, and she leaned down to kiss Damian on the forehead.

-

Let me show you, little one.

-

For the second time in as many hours, Damian awoke. “What was that?” he groaned.

“Your mind could not handle the knowledge, as I expected,” Pragma said.

“If you didn’t expect it to work, why did you do it?” he griped.

“It did work. It taught you a lesson. And, had you been strong enough, it would have taught me a lesson. It is the only way to learn.”

The only way to learn is through pain. Damian had thought that he’d moved past that stage of his life. Apparently not.

“If you’re done knocking me unconscious, I’d like to be sent home now,” Damian said.

Pragma smiled. Mandibles clicked behind her teeth. “You have proven yourself to have potential. You may return to your home planet, and bring to it love.”

“But sister,” Eros said, “He lacks love.”

“He is irreverent.”

“He does not hold his companions close.”

“Even I could not love that face.”

“He does not allow himself mercy.”

“He hates the world for what it has done.”

“There is no innocence left in him.”

Damian did not flinch at any of their words. Why would he? These were all qualities he had trained for years to obtain. Just because some aliens thought they were negative- wait a minute.

“Did you just call me ugly?” He shouted, pointing at Storge.

“Incredibly so.”

“You’re a giant spider!”

“Enough,” Pragma said. “I do not love what is. I love what could be. You have been chosen by the ring, Damian al Ghul Wayne, and you have the potential to be great.”

“I am already great,” Damian said, chin in the air. In that moment, he couldn’t help but feel small.

“No,” she said. “You are not.”

Between one blink and the next, Damian was back on Earth.

Chapter Text

“You’re not going on patrol tonight,” Father said.

“Why not?” Damian demanded, hands already clenching into fists. Everyone was just telling him what he had to or couldn’t do- first Coronus, then Pragma, and now Father. He wanted to go on patrol, and he didn’t want to be a lantern. At this point, he’d accept one or the other.

“Because you disappeared in the middle of a crucial battle and returned hours later with no explanation,” Father said.

“I told you, I was being held captive by aliens!” Technically true.

“And I’m telling you that story doesn’t hold up. You’re benched, Damian.” Batman swung away on his grappling hook. Prick.

Damian trudged up to his room, pointedly ignoring Alfred’s offer of tea. He stared out of his window, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, all the people his father couldn’t save.

“A shame,” Coronus said from the doorway. “He wants to protect you, not make you stronger. He thinks not as a mentor but as a father.”

“Of course he does,” Damian snapped. “He is my father. And yet… he doesn’t trust me.” Granted, Damian had lied to him about what had happened during the fight, but still.

Coronus hummed. “Well, it is a shame for the people of this city that Robin will not be going out tonight. Of course, that says nothing of Star Sapphire.”

Damian slowly turned to her. “So you can be useful sometimes. Father won’t connect a powered vigilante to his unpowered son, at least at first, and the manor security will be laughably easy to get around with the use of energy constructs. Not that it was difficult before.”

“Very well, then,” Coronus said. “Make an energy construct to block the cameras.”

Damian raised a hand, gesturing towards the camera outside his window, and commanded the world to bend to his will.

Nothing happened.

“You are not a green lantern,” Coronus pointed out.

“Thank you, officer oblivious,” Damian said. Still, she had a point. His powers were based not on willpower but love, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. He needed to find love strong enough to become a physical thing.

He ignored the first person that came to mind, that had been haunting his steps since he’d learned the requirements to become a sapphire. Instead, he thought of Father.

He thought of Father’s steady, strong presence, of his infallibility and his strength. Sometimes, Damian wanted to take a piece of that strength for himself, to use it as an anchor.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Coronus said. Damian opened his eyes- when had he closed them?- to see the security camera, along with a good chunk of the wall, missing.

He opened the window and looked out. There on the floor was the rubble, along with a large pink anchor.

“Fuck,” Damian said eloquently.

There was a crackle of electricity, and then the lights went out.

“Fuck indeed,” Alfred said, appearing in Damian’s doorway. “A surge of energy seems to have shorted out the manor’s power grid. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

“...No.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Very well, then. I will go turn on the backup generator. And do try to be less destructive next time. You are an assassin, not a brute.”

He walked away, closing the door behind him.

Damian stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Then he remembered he was being watched, and ran to the window.

-

Damian slunk through the grounds and made his way into the city.

“You may want to put on your uniform,” Coronus said. “I’m told you’re rather recognizable.”

“You couldn’t have reminded me of that before we got into Gotham proper?” Damian grumbled.

“I thought you were the world’s greatest detective?”

Ignoring her, Damian concentrated. The ring’s power felt like another heart beating alongside his own, and he let it surround him. Suddenly, it felt like he could see everything- a mother kissing her daughter goodnight two blocks away, a man and his dog keeping each other warm in a nearby alley, young lovers giggling in the room next door.

When he opened his eyes, the whole alley was suffused with a violet glow. He was wearing the suit from before, still garishly purple, and the ring was prominently displayed on his finger.

He heard a scream from a block down and grinned. “Let’s go.”

-

Damian fumbled with the window latch, cursing. It was much harder to open from the outside for security reasons, but damn security. Could a fourteen year old not break into his own home nowadays?

Finally, he got it open wide enough for him to slip through. He set foot in his bedroom, lightly so as not to make the floorboards creak, and then stood fully.

“Damian,” his father said, melting out of the shadows in the corner of the room. “Let’s talk.”