Chapter Text
Danny lay on his back in the tent, hands folded loosely over his stomach, staring up through the clear roof at the stars.
They were wrong.
Not in a way he could point to, not in a way that would satisfy anyone asking for an explanation—but wrong all the same. The sky here felt stretched too thin, the constellations pulled out of shape like someone had tried to redraw them from memory and failed. No Big Dipper. No Orion. No familiar anchors. No patterns he could name. He searched for them anyway, eyes flicking from star to star, stubbornly trying to impose order where there wasn’t any.
He missed knowing where he was in the universe.
The tent rustled. Then rustled again. Then there was a very familiar thump as someone flopped down way too close.
Danny didn’t even turn his head. “You’re crushing my leg.”
“No I’m not,” Ellie said immediately, lying through her teeth. She wriggled closer anyway, her cold hands sneaking under his arm like she owned the place. “Your leg’s just dramatic.”
“Ow—hey!” Danny hissed as a larger body collided with his other side.
Ellie rolled right over him like gravity was a suggestion. “You’re in my spot.”
“There was no spot,” Danny said.
“There is now.”
She shoved her cold feet under his leg with malicious intent and wriggled until she was satisfied. Danny gritted his teeth and did not kick her off. This was, apparently, his life.
He glanced to his other side, and found Dan. Dan had none of Ellie’s enthusiasm, and was staring up at the stars like he might punch one if it looked at him funny.
“You’re really doing this,” Dan said. Not a question. More like an accusation.
Danny turned his head. “We’ve been over this.”
“Yeah. And it’s still stupid.”
Ellie gasped, scandalized. “You can’t call his important destiny stupid.”
Dan snorted. “I absolutely can.”
Danny sighed. “We have to.”
"We don't too, you have too." Ellie reminded him. "We're just here for fun."
Dan rolled onto his side to look at him properly, eyes sharp, mouth set in that familiar, irritating line. “You don’t have to walk straight into Gotham and politely ask them not to kill you while wearing a crown and pretending you’re not terrified.”
Danny didn’t answer right away.
Ellie, meanwhile, had tilted her head back to squint at the stars. “That one looks like a chicken.”
“That’s a star,” Danny said.
“Chicken star.”
“Please don’t name constellations.”
“I’m naming it now.”
Dan huffed. “Great. History will remember this.”
Danny rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t have to come with me.”
“Yes, we did,” Dan snapped immediately. “Don’t even start that.”
Ellie nodded so hard her ponytail smacked Danny in the chin. “Yeah! Last time you said that, everything went bad.”
Silence fell like a dropped plate.
Danny swallowed.
He remembered. He remembered too well. The panic. The searching. The way the world had tilted when he realized one of them was missing. There was a reason the camp outside was bristling with guards. A reason Fright had insisted on staying close enough to hear them breathe. A reason Danny hadn’t argued when the watch was doubled and then doubled again.
Some mistakes were not survivable twice.
Dan stared at the tent ceiling, jaw tight. “I’m not letting that happen again. So deal with it.”
Ellie crawled halfway onto Danny’s chest and pointed upward. “If we die, I want you to know I hate the sky here.”
“You’re not dying,” Danny said automatically.
“Good. Then I want pancakes tomorrow.”
Dan scoffed. “We’re going to Gotham.”
“Gotham can make pancakes.”
Danny almost laughed.
“We’ll be there tomorrow,” he said instead, softening his voice. “We can worry tomorrow.”
Ellie yawned loudly, no attempt to cover it. “Tomorrow’s future Danny’s problem.”
Dan grunted. “Lucky him.”
Danny tugged the blankets higher, and Ellie immediately stole most of them. Dan complained, shoved back, and somehow they ended up tangled together—knees knocking, elbows everywhere, familiar and warm and irritating in all the right ways.
Jazz wasn’t there.
The thought slipped in uninvited, sharp and quiet. She should have been. She would have hated the stars. She would have corrected Ellie’s constellation. She would have told Danny he was an idiot and hugged him anyway.
But this—this—was still family.
Danny closed his eyes.
Outside, guards paced. Banners whispered in the night wind. Somewhere beyond the tent, his people slept, trusting him with everything they had.
And Daniel James Fenton—
High Chief of the Northern Realms,
The Phantom,
Warden of the Veil,
King of the Zone of Death,
Child blessed by the Cursed Lands,
Duke of Emberton,
Prince of Night,
Bearer of the Dragon’s Blessing,
Heir of Frost and Flame,
Breaker of Pariah,
King beyond the Wall,
and, despite all of that,
just a brother in a pile of blankets,
fell asleep pretending that tomorrow would be merciful.