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Danny hated summonings. They were inconvenient and showed no care for his life - or rather death - schedule, and usually were created by others that were just plain inconsiderate. Instead of them worrying about interrupting his plans, they were usually worrying about summoning a powerful being and the damage it could do when it was pissed. Which lead to most summoning rituals becoming more of a cage than a focus point or a simple social call.
And no matter how careful the ritual was, it still left him feeling like he was being pulled through a sewer drain the size of a quarter with no say in the process - or what happens after.
The only saving grace was that summoning rituals powerful enough to summon the King of the Infinite Realms didn’t happen often. And when they did, he found himself meeting some very interesting people. Over the years he had gained many new allies - usually by saving them from being sacrificed - and a few new enemies - usually by stopping them from sacrificing said new friends. The most interesting rituals were ones where his appearance was a surprise to the caller, either because they were expecting someone else or they weren’t expecting anything at all.
He nostalgically thought of the sleepover he had been summoned to on one of the Tamaran planets, appearing to a group of children in their pajamas. They had been so shocked that they had invited him to join the party.
The most recent summoning, like most, was turning out to be a pain in the ass, and had caught him in the middle of a bath. The water was steaming and wonderful and ready for use, bubbles piled high and illuminated by the various lavender candles around the room. He had only had a few moments to actually relax before he felt the summoning grab hold - literally.
It felt like spindly arms had wrapped around his shoulders from behind, fingers sharp as daggers as they dug into his chest and dragged him backward beneath the water. The bottom of the tub vanished the moment he was submerged and left him struggling in the endless, wet darkness. No amount of thrashing loosened the grip of the ritual until he was compacted, twisted and shoved through the temporary portal. The lightly scented water had been replaced by a thick viscous slime, creeping into every part of his being and forcing his limbs to twist and change as the summoner desired.
His form had grown malleable over the centuries, allowing him to shift as the situation demanded it. He could look anywhere between purely-human and large-roiling-mass-of-cosmic-force, but his preference meant nothing when it was compared to the expectations of his summoner. Their belief - whether intentional or not - fueled the ritual and influenced the rules he had to abide, however temporary it may be.
Pain bloomed along the corners of his forehead, horns sprouting and twisting into existence. His lower lip was pierced and bled freely as his canines lengthened, but it healed over in the next moment and left the taste of copper as its only evidence. His limbs grew longer, body taller, shoulders broader than he normally liked. He could feel some kind of change take root in his eyes, ears and fingers, but the liquid around him was too dark to make out the details.
Once the change was complete, the ritual released him and left him stranded rather abruptly. He felt his body drifting backward once more, but relaxed into the movement and felt his back break the surface of the liquid. It sloshed off his shoulders and limbs as he continued to rise unnaturally, arms and legs breaking the surface to leave him kneeling on a wet, yet solid, ground.
He breathed slowly and kept his face down as gravity settled back around him, revealing his other new additions as they tugged uncomfortably at his shoulders and hung like soggy curtains over his back. The scaled leather wings and thin tail left him abruptly off balance, and his hair had seemed to length and tangle around the curved horns that now weighed down his head.
He felt like a discount ice demon and it was only made worse as his eyes darted over his new form and the ritual markings around him. The summoner had faulty knowledge, as most did, but that didn’t discount the skill and power in the details. He could see a multilayer summoning circle and couldn’t stop the hiss that left him as he saw the markings plastered along his own form, lines painted along his shoulders and chest that worked better than shackles against the lower nobility.
And I’m completely starkers. Great.
He took a few slow, deep breaths as he settled into his newest form, examining the details of the circle as he rose. He made sure to learn forward slightly to accommodate the weight of the wings and raked his hands through his now long hair, brushing it back behind the horns to keep it from his face. His knuckles brushed against a ring of ice and he quickly adjusted to avoid the floating crown, feeling somewhat thankful for the length when he pulled it to the front of his shoulders and let it fall to his knees.
Still starkers, but now with a curtain!
Black ice crawled along the ends of his fingers, turning them into crude talons. The symbols painted along his chest spoke of binding and repression, and seemed to be a safeguard to keep him from accessing his powers. It would normally keep him from acting violently against his summoner, but it didn’t account for the amount of power he actually had.
Lower nobility, he was not.
The layers of the circle seemed to be in a similar state, but -once again- it was made with skill. He clocked a triple-layered ring of binding that held his form, spirit and location, along with a double-layered translation ring. It seemed to be set for the language of the Ancients, and made him cringe as he thought of being forced to speak the stuffy dialect. Anything besides the Ancient’s language would be translated to gibberish, and vice versa.
He could rip through the bindings without breaking a sweat. Though, it would probably take him a minute or two to do so safely. A summoning was an annoying thing to deal with, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt the one who summoned him. Even more so as he glanced upward to see who exactly had pulled him across the void.
He could tell that the ritual, itself, was completed by only one individual, but the actual act seemed to be a group effort. He counted a total of seven people, all dressed in flashy colors and impractical clothing that leaned more towards costume than uniform. The only one who was sensibly dressed was the person who performed the ritual, his acidic power connected firmly to the ritual from where he knelt. He honestly looked more like a tired lawyer than a powerful warlock - albeit one with multiple tags on his soul.
He made a note to track down the man’s contracts after he was released from the ritual. The warlock was powerful, and his power would only grow in his afterlife. However, that would only be a fact if his soul remained in one piece. It might take him a minute to gather all the contracts, but he had enough power and influence in the infinite realms to handle it.
The other six stood in a tapered line behind the kneeling man, creating a lopsided V formation with a strong statured brunette at the front. Her clothes held the armor-plating of the Amazons, skirt short and segmented to allow for long kicks and accommodate a saddled mount. Though the bright color scheme of red and blue was abnormal for the notorious women, it was instantly recognizable to the avid fan of anything super in the realms.
“Holy shit, you’re Wonder Woman!”
His face remained blank in his shock as he studied the heroes, watching as each of them flinched back from whatever noise the translation circle created. He liked to imagine it as the error noise of a computer, but he knew it was probably more along the lines of a tuning fork being dragged over a chalkboard.
Before he could think of a proper greeting to give, he was interrupted by a whispered comment from the Flash. The mutter was quiet, but the translation ring was there to pick up intent and spoken words no matter the volume. He may as well have shouted it across the room.
“To touch him would be to burn with the force of a supernova, though he is one known to be colder than the heat death at the end.”
Danny felt his mouth curl into a smirk as the words reverberated through the circle, twisting two words into twelve. The man must have made some form of comment on his attractive appearance, and maybe something about him being cold hearted? Either way, he had to agree with the assessment of his physique and found himself somewhat grateful that the summoner had left him more humanoid than most.
Danny cleared his throat gently as he shaped his vocal cords, spreading honey through his words as he sighed, “I am grateful for your appreciation, but must decline. I fear any connection would - indeed - blister. You would have far too short of a halflife.”
He felt his smile grow as the Flash’s face flushed to match his red onesie, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say. His embarrassment seemed to be greater than Danny was anticipating, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the translation had added something. It wasn’t uncommon for the translation to change the meaning. Either way, he didn’t have the time to truly ponder it as the leading lady intervened.
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade. I am the Princess, Lady Diana of Themyscira.” Her head was held high as a sign of power, yet her arms remained empty at her sides. Her expression, though serious, remained warmly open as she continued, “I stand for the Council of Justice and have brought you here to stand witness to our plight and beg for your assistance. We have been burdened by-”
“Ah,” he interrupted her before she could begin to detail their request, and instead turned to the others at her side. “Though I am not against beginning a mutual acquaintanceship, I would know who I am falling into step with. I know of you, daughter to Hippolyta and Thunder God, granddaughter to all that is Time. I shall know of the others who have called on me.”
He saw her subtle flinch as the words were translated, showing his knowledge of her parentage. Being King of the Infinite Realms and Lord of the Dead had its perks, including the whispers of souls departed. The others, cautious at his display of knowledge, waited for a nod of approval from Wonder Woman before they began their own introductions, starting with the walking fashion disaster that was the last living Kryptonian.
“I hold the title of Superman, alternate lead of the Council of Justice.”
Danny allowed his eyes to show pure amusement as he heard a whisper of the man’s name in his ear, souls of the departed jumping at the chance to brag and reveal their knowledge. Most in his realm held him in high regard and trusted him to keep their secrets, and he had proven it over the centuries.
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, Prince of Krypton.”
There was a pointed silence after Danny’s greeting, but the others didn’t let it linger. He had thought them to be somewhat stupid to summon him with only third-tier protections in place, but he could not deny they were brave. The others were quick to follow their leaders' examples.
“I hold the title of Aquaman, Cipher Emperor of the Atlantean Empire.”
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, second coming of the great Atlan, Master of the Oceans and Seas.”
“I hold the title of Flash, quickest human on the planet Earth.”
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, Master of the Speedforce and Father of the Great Potential.”
“I hold the title of Green Light, representative of Oa for planet Earth.”
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, Green Guardian of Earth and Host of Fear itself.”
“I hold the title of Batman, Dark Defender of Gotham.”
Danny felt his reply stutter to a halt before it even began, head tilted in curious thought as he examined the man in front of him. The whispers of Gotham’s departed were loud and thankful and proud, but ultimately unhelpful. The souls that shouted at him gave no information on who the man was, and the two souls that seemed to know the man’s identity were keeping quiet.
He could practically feel their own amusement at keeping the man’s identity secret, and he couldn’t blame them for having some fun.
“I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, Man of Mystery.”
Danny didn’t let his attention linger, turning quickly towards the last person present. The warlock was still knelt before him with both hands pressed on the outermost circle of the ritual, and he was making no move to acknowledge anything about Danny’s existence. An introduction to the man wasn’t actually necessary with his magic being so intimately woven into the ritual, but it was still rude to ignore him.
“My tongue drips words of Mystery, yet your tongue seems frozen in my presence.” He smiled as the tired man jolted, gaze darting towards him briefly before turning back to the ground. “Whether it be fear or restraint that holds your words at bay, I would suggest you loosen them. I have taken in your scent, I have the taste of your dark origin and essence, and I will soon count your soul among my collection. Keeping your name from me will not stop my pursuit and claim.”
He saw the warlock’s shoulders tense further, words just shy of mocking as the man denied, “My soul is promised to many, leaving it belonging to none. You may add yourself to the line of inheritance, but no windfall will come.”
He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that sounded from him, fangs on full view as he grinned wider. The man was so full of confidence, yet so ignorant of how his contracts would be settled. He thought a soul needed to remain in one piece to be useful to another.
“You think you’re safe behind a shield of lies. A soul bargained to multiple sources is a soul that will be divided equally among those cheated. You need not be whole to be owned, and your masters will not hesitate to split the profit.” Danny watched the man’s gaze flick back to him in numb shock, denial written in every section of his face. “To own your soul, I need not bargain with you. I simply need to bargain with those who hold your contracts.”
“The people I contracted with are powerful,” the man denied, “and they will not relinquish those contracts to a second level demon-”
“Second level?” Danny couldn’t help the incredulous tone as he listened to the man’s statement. “You think I am some small powered ice demon? You think that these bindings,” he gestured sharply towards the brands along his chest as he asked, “would actually keep me from doing whatever I wish?”
He could see the man’s confidence slowly fade as he reexamined the circle, mouth turning down into a frown as he confirmed, “I have bound you with the brands of the fallen, known to constrict the will of demons to the fourth tier of the realms. The ritual was meant to summon a midlevel demon of the Frozen Wastelands, fourth spare to the Throne of Ice-”
“-and you thought the power of the entity would go down with each level of succession.”
Danny felt his eyes fall closed in exasperation, one hand coming up to massage his eyelids. They had believed they were summoning a demon of the Far Frozen, which explained his frostbitten appearance. It also made him regret accepting Frostbite’s offer of heirship.
“Your intelligence spans wide, yet misses all.”
The others around the circle bristled at his comment and he felt a small amount of satisfaction, knowing the insult had come through loud and clear. He didn’t allow them the time to retaliate and instead allowed himself to stand to his full height, taking advantage of the ethereal form he had been forced into. His new wings flared behind him and arched high overhead, tightly held power leaking from every inch as the ice crawled along the floor at his feet.
He felt his satisfaction grow at the man’s panic, watching as the ice crept over and past the circle’s protection to spread through the room.
“I am indeed fourth spare to lead the ice soldiers of the Far Frozen, and I do indeed have dominion over the winter’s cold.” Danny gestured slowly to the floor around them in example as he continued, “However, that does not make my cold lesser than the Frost King’s. I am fourth spare of succession in deference to the wishes of my beloved mentor, ally and Vizier. My obligations are vast, and would fall to neglect and ruin if I devoted anymore to his Kingdom.”
The darkly clad hero seemed to catch the damning word and quickly asked, “Vizier?”
“Yes,” Danny agreed. “He and the other leaders of the realms hold positions on my royal council and advise me in my rule.”
Danny tilted his head in contemplation of the group in front of him, smile turning somewhat crude as he saw them go on edge. The group was slowly coming to the realization that they may be in danger. He didn’t leave them in suspense for long before he lifted a hand to sweep down his form, bending at the waist and disregarding his nudity as he introduced himself with the full weight of his flaming crown.
“I am Lord Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, spare to the Seat of Time, and fourth spare to the Ice throne. I am the Ancient of the everlasting, Master of the Endless Dark itself, Ruler of the Cosmos and Defeater of the Blood King Pariah.
“So,” he continued, standing to his full height once more and piercing the warlock with his gaze once more, “I will ask again for the name of the man who will soon be mine to command.”
He watched the kneeling man slump in defeat, gaze breaking from his as he hung his head low to the floor. There was a long moment of silence before he answered with a reluctant, “John Constantine, child of the dark gods and collector of relics.”
“John Constantine. I greet you with an open hand and a dull blade, Walker of Purgatory, and I anticipate our further dealings.” Danny rolled the name around his mouth gently and savored the way it sounded. He would remember it and collect the various contracts once they were done. “Now that names have been spoken and blades have been stowed, let us discuss the business you intend.”
“We are very grateful for your consideration,” Wonder Woman said, seemingly ignoring the layered threat in his words. “We seek aid in defeating a powerful creature which has besieged our settlements, a drake of flaming brimstone that hails from the Infinite Realms. It has ripped holes between the realms and left cursed waters in its wake-”
“You describe the loathsome Prince Aragon,” Danny cut through her explanation, already stretching his awareness to locate the escaped convict. He felt his power ping off the Prince’s location and swiveled his head to the left. “I will deal with the beast and drag him back to his cell in the Infinite Realms, and I will purge your lands of the cursed waters.”
“And in return,” the Warlock jumped in, “you will have my soul.”
“No.” Danny didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a very close call. “As I have already declared, your soul is not yours to barter. It is mine no matter the outcome or agreement. For this service, I would take a different price.”
Superman frowned at his declaration before he hesitantly asked, “What price will you demand from us?”
Danny stood in silence as he examined the heroes in front of him, wondering just what he would ask for. He had no desire to spread more pain than the damn Prince had already done, and he knew that he would be cleaning us this mess regardless of if they accepted the contract. The act of dealing with the Prince and whatever ectoplasm was left would be child’s play for him. His actions wouldn’t be worth rubies or diamonds, and he had no real use for them.
Though, there was one thing that he could ask for. Something that wouldn’t take anything away from the people, and that he would feel no guilt over requesting. The humor he heard from the ghosts of Gotham only solidified his decision.
“Batman, Defender of Gotham.” Danny took a step towards the edge of the circle, placing the full force of his attention on the dark-clothed man of mystery. “For my services in ridding your world of this evil, I would know you. I would have your name, as a token of our allegiance.”
He saw the shock ripple among them and made sure to keep his face blank. He thought his request wouldn’t make too many ripples, but something must’ve changed in translation - especially evident when he realized the translation circle remained active long after he had finished speaking. Even his magic seemed to sense the shift, air growing colder in the silence between them as hackles raised and faces turned grim.
He couldn’t afford to backtrack his demand, and didn’t have enough time to figure out where it had gone wrong as he was interrupted. The translation circles took most of the tone out of what was said, but it still left echoes of the base emotion. This particular interruption screamed of shock and disgust, but surprisingly, it wasn’t Batman who denied the agreement.
“No,” Wonder Woman breathed, standing firm as she stepped between them. “I have riches beyond compare-”
“I care not for your gold, Cousin.” Danny tilted his head as one of the ghosts of Gotham whispered a suggestion, cackling all the while. He allowed himself to smirk with mischief as he leaned around the woman to address Batman once more. “If you’d rather keep your name, I could ask your second son instead - the taste of death lingers on him, and he may be grateful for the company.”
“No!” Batman didn’t raise his voice, but the gentle volume did nothing to soften the tone. “My Spare is not the one who stands here in negotiation, it is my place to bargain and my choice to make. Should those under my care remain free from harm, I will agree to the arrangement. However, I would request that we wait til after the beast has been dealt with. I require time to set the fate’s wheel to spin how we need.”
“Agreed.” Danny sidestepped Wonder Woman to have a direct path to the man of his focus, skirting the edge of the ritual circle at his feet. “I shall deal with your troubles and leave your world void of the cursed waters. I shall even repair the damage that has been raught.
“In exchange,” he continued, reaching a hand across the threshold of the circle. The magical barrier sparked around the limb as it left the circle, but he paid it no mind as he extended the limb towards the man. “I shall come to you in a fortnight for a proper meeting, in which I shall clasp your hand and be granted your name. I shall take the name beyond our graves, and will not share it.”
Batman ignored the various garbled denials of those around him, reaching forward to bypass his hand and clasp his fingers round Danny’s wrist as he agreed, “I accept. In one fortnight I shall meet you and show you into my home. I shall take your hand in mine and you shall take my name. We shall be unified by my name so long as you remain an ally to those under my care.”
Danny felt his eyes go wide as the words hit him, knowing that something had gone horribly wrong. The wording was too pretentious, even in the language of the Ancient’s, but there was nothing to be done. His core had already surged to the surface, mingling between the both of them as the ambient magic sealed their pact. He couldn’t pull his magic - or his hand - away until the deed was done, thick lines of magic settling against their skin.
Batman’s forearm was hidden by the dense material of his suit, but Danny’s was bare and on display. The pale blue skin now held the mark of a bat made from dark swirling lines, wings spread high over its head and body unnaturally long as its feet stretched towards his inner elbow. The placement of the brand made him frown and, with a resigned irritation, he went about fixing it.
He quickly dragged a finger along the dark mark as he channeled his magic, forcing it to glide across his skin with the movement of the clawed digit. He continued the movement as the bat flailed itself up his arm and across his neck, settling at the top of his chest and coming to rest over his sternum. The new position had the figure of the creature looking much more natural, and could now be hidden easily, temporary though the mark would be.
It would remain until both sides of their contract were completed, so he would only have to hide it for two weeks. A shirt would do wonders to keep the questions at bay, which would be his first priority right above fighting a temperamental dragon and double checking the contract with Clockwork.
Cover my ass. First physically, then metaphorically.
Danny turned his attention back to Batman once more, allowing his mouth to slip into a true grin of delight. The brooding man’s only response was to clench his jaw tighter, but he didn’t let that dissuade him as he murmured, “I hope you will not regret your decision in the morning,” and stepped out of the circle.
There was a brief flare of magic as the circle was broken, energy discharging into the air like a flash-bang - all light and show with little actual damage. The others in the room made varying cries of shock and denial, but he simply ignored their protests. The Warlock seemed to be in a state of resigned horror, simply sitting back on his heels and making no move to get away.
“Oh God-!”
“I thought you said it would hold!”
“How-?”
“Now then,” Danny interrupted the squabbling as he stepped closer to Batman, smiling wider as the noise quickly died once more. “I believe I require some garments before I am to face the Bastard Prince Aragon.”
Batman, expression never changing, inclined his head in agreement and gestured towards a large door to the right. He agreed with a bland, “Of course. Let me show you to the armory.”
- - - - - -
It was three days later that Danny found himself in a strange Walk Of Shame, having punted the rogue Prince back into his - surprisingly spacious - cell. He hadn’t stuck around after the dragon had been contained, dodging every attempt the League made to contact him as he swiftly put out fires, cleared the damage, and scrambled back through a hastily torn portal.
The icy appearance dissolved as he crossed the threshold, the last of the ritual’s magic dripping off his form like icy slush. This left him zipping through the halls of his obsidian castle as he dodged all in sight, while also trying to keep the borrowed clothes secured. His natural frame was much smaller than the ice demon had been, and it left the pants and shirt hanging from him like tattered sheets.
A quick stop into his rooms, a rushed shower, and a clean change of clothes had him feeling like himself again. However, with the wardrobe issue solved, it left his other problems blaring in his mind with the force of a neon sign at midnight. He needed to find out how the pact had been translated to the living heroes, and - if possible - how to reverse whatever damage had been done.
The language of the Ancients was a difficult thing to learn and was filled with double meanings. He had been learning it for centuries and still found himself tripping over the conversations with the observants, usually finding himself on the business end of some form of weapon. He remembered one instance with a trace of fondness, having tried to compliment a lady on her cloak and instead accusing her of an affair with a mistress.
Though to be fair, she had been having some form of trickery with one of her husband’s scribes. It came as quite a shock and made for wonderful entertainment during that banquet, truly creating a scene worthy of the Telenovelas as it came to a three-way fight - ending in a three-way of a different kind. He still occasionally received gift baskets from the happy thrupple.
But, he was digressing, and he needed to find-
“CLOCKWORK!”
Danny found the ancient sitting in one of his smaller parlors, a ceramic mug gripped in his hand with a scent of coffee in the air. The man was perched in one of the wingback chairs and didn’t startle an inch as the still young king crashed into the room, scattering the papers that had rested on the low coffee table in his wake.
“Ah.” The sound was low and filled with fond amusement, as if the ancient had been expecting Danny for sometime and knew exactly what had caused the hysterics. Which he probably did. “I had thought we were becoming overdue for some excitement.”
“Clockwork!” Danny let himself crash into another wingback opposite the man - wait no - the grandfather now. “I need your help!”
The grandfather raised his mug - no, it was a teacup - to his lips as he asked, “What did you do?”
“That’s what I need you to tell me!” The boy slumped in his seat as his mentor’s gaze turned sharper. “I got summoned-”
“I thought it had been rather quiet.”
“-and they needed my help, so I made a deal.” He dragged his hands roughly through his hair, brushing the long strands out of his face in frustration. While the horns, wings and tail had vanished, his hair had remained the same obnoxious length.
“Danny Boy,” the grandfather chided. “You know not to make deals without consulting the council first.”
“I know, I know! But I didn’t ask much, and I was gonna do what they asked anyways, so I didn’t think it would matter.”
After a few moments of silence, the old ancient raised an eyebrow at the pouting king and leadingly stated, “I assume something went wrong.”
The response that came was hesitant and mulish, barely audible over the ticking of the large interdimensional clock in the corner.
“It had a two-way translation circle for Ancient Speech.”
Thwack!
“Ow!”
“Finally aging into your role, and you still have no sense!” The grand - child floated above his seat cushion, time staff poised overhead and threatening to strike once more. Not even the pitiful cowering of his student would stop its descent. “You know you are not well experienced in the subtleties it requires, and most translation arrays aren’t anywhere near accurate enough to rely on.”
“I know! I’m sorry!” Danny clutched his head and winced at the imaginary lump he could feel. “I thought I said everything right, but I think something went wrong in translation, so I need your help. You can show me what they heard and said - in English this time!”
“I will not save you from this.” Clockwork stared down his charge as he said the words with a heavy, solemn weight behind them. “I will not help you reverse what has been done, nor will I help you replace whatever item you promised them.”
“I think it’s what I had them promise me,” Danny pointed out. “I thought it wasn’t a big deal, but they got really on edge when I said my terms, and they got super formal too. Pretty sure I offended at least one of them.”
“Well,” Clockwork frowned thoughtfully as he conceded, “that changes things.”
Clockwork lifted a hand between them and made a wide slashing motion to their right, sending out a small wave of power and summoning one of his hourglass portals. It was a matter of seconds for the ancient to shift the view and zero in on the proper scene. Danny had to bite his tongue to hold back his groan of dismay as he watched the events play out once more. Seeing his actions from an outside perspective always left his head hurting, mind fighting against what he remembered and what he saw.
They both watched the viewing portal, the focal point seeming to station itself slightly above and to the right of what he remembered. It left his slowly emerging form in the frame, while also keeping the other heroes in sight. The tension in the room seemed to mirror that of the past memory as the image progressed and showed a drastically changed Danny Phantom clawing his way from a glowing, greenish-blue puddle.
“Wings,” Clockwork pointed out. “Nice touch.”
“Not my decision. Neither were the horns.”
Danny cringed as he watched his past form slowly stand, wings twitching awkwardly and hair disheveled. The only saving grace was the slow movements he had taken to right his appearance, seemingly unhurried in his actions. This was, of course, ruined as a spine chilling sound swept through the room, startling both observers.
“Damn translation circle,” Danny muttered.
Clockwork made only a small sound of agreement, form flickering back to that of a grown man. It was with a lazy arm that the ancient directed the portal to move about the scene, seeming to flick to a new vantage point closer to the hero Flash.
“He’s hot for an Ice Demon.”
Danny hung his head, burying his face in his hands as he tried to drown out Clockwork’s soft chuckle. The sound wasn’t loud, but it still spoke volumes of the man’s amusement over his student’s suffering.
“Thank you,” Danny cringed as he heard his reply, refusing to look up at the image once more. The translation circle had distorted his voice and tone, but it was still unmistakably him. “But I am not interested. You would burn out much too fast.”
“Oh, gods.” Clockwork only laughed more as Danny whined, “That was not how I intended that to sound! Makes me sound perverted.”
“By the look on his face, he agreed. Now, shush.”
“Greetings, I am Princess Diana, of Themyscira.”
“Ah, my precious granddaughter,” Clockwork quietly interrupted. “She’s done well for herself.”
“Now who’s interrupting?”
“I represent the Justice League,” the past Diana continued, “and have called for an audience to request aid. We have encountered-”
“Though I am not against granting aid, I would like to know who I would align myself with.”
Danny heard the loud chime and click of Clockwork’s watch and quickly glanced back up to find a soft glare aimed his way, portal frozen eerily between them.
“Daniel,” his mentor coldly stated. “We do not interrupt a Lady when she is speaking. Especially my granddaughter.”
“Sorry, sir.”
After a few more tense seconds, the man - grandfather once more - clicked the video back into motion.
“I know who you are, Daughter of Hippolyta and Zeus, granddaughter of Time. I would know the names of the others who have summoned me.”
They both watched the introductions quietly play out, the dry cut nature of their greetings and introductions. It was even more satisfying to watch their reactions a second time, and he could better focus on each twitch his knowledge of them caused.
“Ghosts?” Clockwork asked.
“Very chatty, proud ghosts,” Danny confirmed.
The humor lasted right up until he saw Batman step forward, and he couldn’t stop the sound of irritation and petulance that slipped from him. At clockwork’s questioning - read: demanding - stare, he relented and quietly explained.
“Gotham’s ghosts were proud, but they weren’t very chatty.” Danny crossed his arms and turned back to the portal, watching as his past-counterpart paused, stumbled and began smiling anew.
“Well met, Mister Mysterious.”
Danny watched as past-Danny turned toward the Warlock, and he sank lower in his seat. He could practically imagine the lecture now, especially with what he knew was about to happen next.
“I speak of Mystery,” Past-Danny continued, “yet you speak none. You may be scared or just cautious, but I would suggest you speak while you are allowed. I have smelled you, I have tasted your magic, and I will soon own your soul. Ignorance of your name will not change that.”
“Well,” his mentor murmured, “that was more threatening than I thought you capable. Though, I can see why you’d want to claim the man’s soul - I can see the crude tags even through the video, and he must be powerful to pull off your summoning.”
“He got me there, but he couldn’t hold me.” Danny saw the playback pause as his mentor looked away from it, silently waiting for further explanation. “They did a blind summon and only had precautions to hold an heirchild.”
“Centuries of mistakes and some humans still don’t learn.”
“Humanity is short,” Danny argued. “They can’t learn if they don’t have the time too.”
Clockwork inclined his head in silent agreement before he turned back to the portal, clicking the image back into motion as it focused on the kneeling Warlock. The tension was evident in the man’s form, and seeing it again left a kernel of remorse in Danny’s throat. A millennium ago he would have seen his words as cruel, but time had tempered some of his morals.
He still fully intended to collect the man’s contracts. Joining his court and working for him in the afterlife would be a mercy compared to what the man was currently facing. Danny would even allow the man to live out his natural life, and would count him among his allies while still alive. He would need to protect his investment.
“I already sold my soul a dozen times over, and none have been powerful enough to collect it.” the Warlock’s voice sounded much more strained without the translation circle in the way, speaking of a poorly-hidden fear. “You can get in line, if you’d like to toss your hat in the ring, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“You think you are safe, but you are not. A soul signed to multiple people will be torn apart in the afterlife, broken evenly among the holders. You aren’t required to remain in one piece, and the scorned will not hesitate to rip you into as many pieces as they need.”
“Your teeth have grown sharper, Little King.”
“It was the truth.”
“Sometimes, the truth is what hurts the most.” His mentor shifted to his youngest form as he firmly stated, “I’ll begin the proceedings and have Clarence search the archives for his contracts.”
“Thanks.”
“To own your soul, I don’t need your approval. I just need to speak with the ones who you already contracted with.”
“They’re power beings,” the Warlock denied, “and they wouldn’t give up that leverage to a Lowborn Knight-”
“Lowborn Knight?”
The image paused once more, playback frozen on Past-Danny’s face. His expression screamed of confusion and offense at the mere suggestion, and it seemed to amuse his mentor to no end - evidenced by the booming laughter that filled the room. Danny frowned, but made no comment. He simply waited in silence until his mentor had calmed back down and set the portal back into motion, Past-Danny’s indignant response continuing.
“You believe me to be some lowly Ice Knight? You think that these markings would keep me from acting?”
“Those ‘markings’ are the Bindings of Heavenly Fire,” the Warlock sounded much more smug than Danny remembered, “known to keep even some of the lower nobles in line. The arrays were only meant to summon an average Demon of the Ice Realms, fifth in line of succession-”
“-and you thought the lower born the Demon was, the weaker they would be.”
“I believe,” Clockwork murmured, “that I’ll be sending the man a gift basket. It’s been much too long since I’ve heard you sound so done with the world.”
“He likes cigarettes, but I don’t know what brand.” Danny shared a smile as they both watched Past-Danny’s frustration. “He reeked of smoke and cloves.”
“Noted.”
“Dumbass.”
The room once again filled with laughter as they watched the heroes bristle. Danny distinctly remembered his response being a full sentence, and not simply one word. However, he agreed that the translation was aptly done.
When the room was calm once more, they both continued to watch as the portal jumped to a different vantage point. It seemed to be positioned behind the line of heroes now, and had the full focus on Past-Danny’s looming figure. He could see the ice beginning to grow as his demonic form sharpened, shadows seeming to writhe as the image continued to play.
“Oh,” Clockwork said, form flickering back to that of a grown man as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “I believe I hear a dramatic monologue beginning.”
“I am the fifth in line to rule the Far Frozen, and I do have an affinity for ice.” Past-Danny spoke lowly and with a commanding air, voice calling for attention and warning. “However, I am not weaker than the Frost King. I am the fifth heir as a favor to my dear mentor, friend and advisor. My duties keep me from agreeing to any higher a position.”
“Advisor?”
“Yes. He and the other Dukes hold positions on my royal council and advise me in my reign.”
Danny watched as his past self swept into a dramatic bow and quickly covered his face in shame. Clockwork stayed suspiciously silent, but Danny just knew that he was in for a century of teasing. He had already heard multiple lectures on his tendencies for the dramatics, and he could physically feel himself hitting a new low as he remembered that his royal introduction was done in his skivvies.
“I am Lord Phantom, Ruler King over all of the Unending Realms, second heir to the Master of Time-”
Thwack!
“Presumptuous brat!”
“Well, am I wrong?!”
The lack of response was extremely telling, even more so when the portal began playing once more.
“-and fifth in line to claim the Frozen Throne. I am the Ancient of Eternity, Master of the Void, Ruler of the stars and Defeater of the previous Tyrant Pariah. So, I will ask again for the name of the man who will soon belong to me.”
“I sometimes forget just how many titles you actually own,” Clockwork commented. “Especially since you still insist on using the Frozen Crown as a paperweight.”
This time it was Danny’s turn not to respond, simply watching as the past played out exactly how he remembered, no deviations from what he recalled. He had the Warlock give his own introductions and heard the beginnings of their negotiations before Clockwork paused the video once more.
“Prince Aragon escaped?”
“Bribed a guard,” Danny explained. “It’s already been dealt with, and he’s in Soup storage for a while. I’m thinking I may have to put a portal limiter on him and place him in one of the unpopulated dimensions.”
Clockwork made a soft sound of acknowledgement, but made no agreement or denial to the proposed plan. Instead, they turned their full focus on the portal as Past-Danny denied the payment of a soul. Clockwork seemed to notice the rising tension and honed in on the scene as Past-Danny began to address Batman.
“For the aid of my blade, I would claim you and allow you to claim me in return, welcome you into my home and be given a place in yours. I would take your name as my own to wear with pride, a symbol of our union and everlasting bond.”
His mentor’s tone was filled with shocked awe as he stated, “You just proposed marriage to the most emotionally repressed member of the Justice League.”
“What?! That’s not what I said!”
“How,” Clockwork asked, “did you even manage that?”
“I don’t know!” Danny tossed his arms sharply into the air in exasperation as he explained, “I just asked for his name! The ghosts of Gotham weren’t telling me anything about his identity, and I wanted to know. I certainly didn’t ask to claim him!”
Clockwork stared at him as the silence grew, no longer comfortable, but charged with tension and the weight of a disappointed stare. His tone held a similar parental tone as he chastised the young king.
“Wording matters in the Ancient tongue. A singular word can change a compliment to an insult, and many words have different meanings depending on the context. You said you wanted to know his name?” His mentor waited for Danny to nod before he asked, “How did you ask for it?”
“I said I would know him, and I would have his name.”
Danny was able to duck the swing of his staff, having expected it, and tossed his arms up to protect himself. When no further blows came, he carefully dropped them and found himself pinned under his mentor’s glare.
“I asked for his name!”
“No, you did not.” Clockwork carefully lowered the staff back to his side as he explained, “You offered a union, a joining of families. In the Ancient tongue, to know of someone is to be acquainted with them, but to know someone is to tie yourself to them as an equal ally, usually through marriage.”
“No way!" Danny shook his head as he vehemently denied, “I can’t marry Batman!”
Clockwork’s expression shifted from frustration to confusion as he asked, “He said yes?”
“Maybe?”
The mentor whipped around towards the portal and set the image back into motion, waving a hand absently in Danny’s direction to cut through any argument.
“No!” Wonder Woman’s disgust and denial made sense, knowing that Danny had essentially asked for the Justice League to pimp out one of its founding members. “No amount of money is an issue-”
“I don’t want money, Cousin.” Past-Danny’s tone was quickly turning from smug to smarmy, souring the pride he had originally held for the negotiation. “If you do not wish to bind yourself to me, I could barter with your second oldest instead - he tastes of death, and he may enjoy my companionship.”
“Oh,” Danny let his face fall back into his hands once more as he cringed. “I didn’t mean it like that! I was just gonna get Batman’s name from his son.”
“And you threatened to seduce his son instead. Congratulations, Daniel. You’ve surprised me.”
“No!” Batman’s panic made more sense now too. “My son is not the one bartering, I am. So long as no harm comes to my family, I will accept. Just wait until after the dragon has been dealt with. I’ll need time to prepare.”
“Acceptable terms,” Past-Danny said. “I will deal with the problem and reverse the damage that has been done. In exchange, I will come to you in two weeks for a formal union, where I will take your hand and be given your name. Death will not end it, and I do not share.”
“You have a talent for getting into trouble.” Clockwork stared down at his teacup, frown quickly growing wrinkles as he aged once more. “I honestly do not understand how you messed up in all the right ways to put forth such a misunderstanding.”
“I did it, but even I don’t understand.”
“I accept,” Batman growled. “I’ll expect you in two weeks, and have a room prepared accordingly. I’ll take your hand in mine and grant you my last name. We will be united as long as you do no harm to those I care for.”
“Oh,” Clockwork said, “look at that. That’s you extending your hand. And that’s you binding the agreement to your magical core, ensuring that no party can break their end of the bargain except under pain of destabilization!”
“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Danny launched himself up from his seat, and then promptly sat back down as he found Clockwork’s glare growing in ire. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves before he quietly asked, “Can you help me get out of it?”
“Get out of it? No.” His mentor’s face was grim as he said with a ringing finality, “You bound yourself and have already completed your end of the bargain. There is no stopping it, and no negotiation is possible until it has been completed entirely.
“However,” the grandfather continued, a spark of amusement entering his eye as Danny’s head shot back up, “the binding was not without loopholes.”
“Can you get me out of it?”
“No,” he denied, “but I can make it more tolerable, and perhaps, even fun. The Infinite Realm is mostly self-sustainable, at least for some time, and can handle your absence while you deal with this matter.”
Danny continued to stare at his mentor, waiting for an explanation that never came. Instead, the grandfather’s amusement seemed to grow in leaps and bounds until Danny relented and finally asked, “What do I need to do?”
“Take a vacation.”
- - - - - -
It was exactly eleven days, five hours and thirty-two minutes later that the doorbell of the Wayne Manor rang.
Alfred’s charge, Bruce, and his various wards were stationed in the largest parlor, having been gathered and briefed on the situation at hand. No member of the family had taken the announcement of the upcoming nuptials with anything resembling grace, with vehement denials to be had all around as they each hunted for a way out of the arrangement.
Master Bruce was the only one who seemed determined to accept his new lot in life, and had quickly begun implementing changes. Legal documents had been filled out and forged, alterations had been made to Bruce’s Living Will, and many rooms in the manor had been prepared. Bruce had even insisted on planning a small ceremony on the grounds to celebrate the upcoming marriage.
Alfred did not approve of the agreement, but there was nothing he could possibly do to stop the plan from going forward. Which had led to him grimacing through preparing a range of small snacks to be had at the shotgun wedding, and dressing in one of his best suits. Though he disapproved, he did not hesitate to leave the parlor upon hearing the doorbell ring at half past four in the evening - the supposed time that the binding had occurred two weeks prior.
If nothing else, at least they’re punctual.
He did not linger or hesitate to open the door to their soon-to-be occupant, but found his thoughts stalling to a halt at what he found.
The form standing on their doorstep was completely free of demonic appendage, no horns or wings in sight. Their appearance seemed to be utterly human as any other citizen of Gotham, with the pale skin to match the dreary weather and lack of sun. Blue eyes and black hair were on display, and - though he was in desperate need of a haircut - the length was not to the extreme that Bruce had described. Honestly, none of that truly phased the older man, having already come to the conclusion that the Demon would have a human guise to call upon. The issue that made him stumble was that the form was small.
Very small.
“Hello,” Alfred couldn’t help it as his voice softened, having to bite his tongue to keep from cooing at the child on the welcome mat.
The boy stood no taller than Alfred’s knee and had a large ghost plush tucked tight to his side, his other hand occupied by making a fist as his thumb seemed to wander towards his mouth. He spotted a large duffle bag on the ground beside the young lad, shaped similar to a black and white rocket, and was hit by a moment of amused realization..
“Hello,” the greeting was lisped slightly by the thumb in his mouth, small eyes darting over Alfred’s figure. “My name is Danny, and I’m three, and Bat-”
The child broke off what he was saying quickly and glanced wildly around them, head turning with an almost unnatural quickness. The boy’s shoulders had a cautious tension about them as he took his thumb from his mouth and reached for Alfred’s coattail, gently tugging at it and standing on the tips of his toes.
Alfred, instantly recognizing a secret when he saw one, carefully stooped down. He ignored his protesting knees and the saliva that was most likely on his pressed suit, dutifully leaning his ear closer and waiting as the boy began to loudly whisper. It was done in the way that all children did when they thought they were being quiet, and left his heart aching for the days when Master Bruce still needed help to climb into bed.
“Batman said I could come over today!” Danny, having delivered his secret message, leaned back and released his hold on Alfred’s jacket, eyes weary as they examined the older man for his response.
“Master Phantom, I presume,” Alfred gave the child a smile as the shyness seemed to melt away, leaving behind excitement and a dimpled smile.
“Yeah!” The boy bounced slightly in his enthusiasm as he said, “Everyone calls me Phantom, but I prefer Danny the best! Grandfather Clock says I’m gonna be King when I grow up again!”
“Is that so?” Alfred’s smile widened at the eager nod he received before he pointedly turned his attention to the plush ghost in the boy’s arms. “And who might this be?”
“This is Boo, like the sound a ghost makes! Not Booboo, like an ouchie. He has a cape!” Danny turned the stuffed ghost obligingly to reveal the small red fabric stitched to its back, laughing loudly when Alfred reached out to take one of the ghost’s fingerless hands in greeting.
“Lovely to meet you both, young masters. I am Alfred Pennyworth, caretaker of the Manor and its residents.”
“Did I-” Danny’s smile seemed to dim slightly, weariness creeping onto the boy’s face as he hesitantly asked, “Did I come to the right place?”
“Yes, my Dear Boy. You have.”
Alfred reached forward slowly to pick up the duffle bag, tugging it onto his shoulder and tucking the bulk of the fabric behind him. He was just about to stand when he was interrupted by a soft questioning sound and found himself faced with the young child, free arm half lifted towards him. The old butler swiftly changed course to grip the boy round his middle and lifted him along as he stood, letting the boy perch on his hip.
“And I didn’t,” Danny chewed on his thumb gently, mulling over the question before he began again. “This is okay? He won’t be mad?”
“Oh, Dear child.” Alfred brushed his free hand over Danny’s head, pushing his choppy bangs away from his forehead as he reassured, “I believe he will be more than agreeable to this change in your arrangement.”
“M’Kay,” Danny mumbled. “Can I have glowy stars in my room?”
“As many as you’d like,” Alfred agreed.
Danny’s smile slowly bloomed back into place as he relaxed, letting his head rest against Alfred’s shoulder as he stuck his thumb back in his mouth. Alfred’s own smile was wide and unobscured as he made his way back into the manor, precious cargo tucked safely to his chest. He was already half-smitten with the adorable child and was sure Bruce would not hesitate to jump at the chance to have another ward in the home - especially one young enough to coddle and raise.
He was already looking forward to adding Danny’s photo to his Brag Book to show to Shellia, just to prove that his grandchildren were cuter than hers - the harpy.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred called as he started towards the family’s position, “there’s been a change of plans! I’ll need you to collect the highchair and crib from storage.”
“What?!”