The Price Of Peace - JoyLess_NightSky - Justice League (2024)

Chapter 1

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 circ*mstances, 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 2

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 f*cking 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 3

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, sh*t. 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 4

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 5

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 sh*t?"

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 circ*mstances. 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 6

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."

sh*t.

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. sh*t. 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 circ*mstances, 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 7

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 sh*t-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 8

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 f*ckin' 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 f*ck, old man?! Your own f*cking son?! How dare you, you motherf*cking-"

"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, f*ck that!" Jason's voice boomed, as angry as before, "And f*ck him, too! Like hell Imma allow him ta take my brother. Y'know what? Let 'em try, I'll run a f*cking 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-f*ckin-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 f*ckin' 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, dickhe*d."

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 sh*t, 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 9

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 amusem*nt, 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 10

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 f*ck 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 f*ck you’re going. I’ll f*cking 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 sh*t. 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 11

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 f*cking 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 sh*t you say."

Steph raised an eyebrow at him. "Bitch, I'm from the Narrows. My honour was never worth crap."

Chapter 12

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 f*cking 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 13

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. f*ck!

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. f*cking, 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-f*cking-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 co*cky 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? f*cking sh*thead! 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 f*cker 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, f*ck 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. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t-

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.

sh*t. 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 14

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…?"

sh*t. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!

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 15

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 f*cking 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 f*ck 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-f*cking-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, sh*t, 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 sh*t had really gone down the drain. f*ck!

"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. f*cking- "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 f*cked f*cked, 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 puss* 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 sad*stic 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 16

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 duch*ess 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 17

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 18

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."