👑 Adopted by an Eldritch King 👑
DP x DC – Full Fic Opening / Suspense Edition
The chanting was deafening.
Green light pulsed through the old stone, the scent of Lazarus water thick in the air.
Batman strained against the ropes. Damian was snarling, Dick was bleeding, and Jason kept muttering something about déjà vu and bad pits.
Then—
the circle ignited.
Something vast pushed through the veil, bending space like glass. The temperature dropped, and the cultists fell silent as the shape rose from the smoke.
A crown of frost.
Eyes like dying stars.
Six wings unfolding, each feather shimmering with constellations.
And from the waist down—dark, endless tentacles trailing mist and starlight.
“We offer these souls to you, O Great One—”
The words died when the creature turned its gaze on them.
The Batfam braced for the worst. But the entity’s focus wasn’t on them. It looked down—past the altar, to the small transparent forms trembling in the circle’s core.
Ghost infants. Sacrifices.
And then the King moved.
Tentacles lashed out—
—but not to strike.
The cultists were gone, sucked screaming into a rift of green fire.
The heroes found themselves suddenly free, and an impossibly gentle hand brushed ectoplasmic residue from Tim’s cheek.
“You’re safe now, little ones,”
the voice said—deep as thunder, soft as snow.
Something ancient stared down at them, and for a heartbeat every Lazarus scar in the room glowed.
Jason felt warmth where there should’ve been rage.
Bruce felt… recognition.
And somewhere far away, Alfred Pennyworth set down his teacup and smiled.
“Right on time, my King.”
The air cracked with power as the Eldritch King looked at Batman—
and smiled back.
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When the light finally faded, they stood in a vast marble hall carved from obsidian and frost. Stars shimmered beneath translucent floors, and ghostly fire burned in sconces that gave off no heat.
The King hovered before them, wings folding close. His gaze lingered on each of them in turn.
“You’ve all carried death on your souls,”
he murmured.
“But none of you are meant for it yet.”
Damian’s hand twitched toward his sword. “Who are you to decide that?”
The being tilted his head, and the motion was almost… fond.
“Someone who remembers what it is to be young and angry.”
Bruce stepped forward, protective instinct overriding terror. “You released us. Why?”
A pause. Then that voice again—layered, echoing across the chamber.
“Because I do not harm children. Not in life. Not in death.”
Something flickered in those green eyes—an emotion too deep to name.
Tim noticed it first: the ring on his finger. A glowing white band, shaped like the infinity symbol. The same symbol etched into every summoning diagram Clockwork ever touched.
“Wait,” Tim whispered. “I’ve seen that symbol—”
The King’s smile deepened, ancient and sorrowful.
“I know, Little Clock’s ward.”
Before anyone could react, a tear in space opened beside him. Through it, they saw the Manor—their Manor.
Alfred stood by the window, watching the night sky. He raised his teacup in greeting.
And for a heartbeat, his reflection in the glass wasn’t human at all.
It was a clock.
“Alfred…” Bruce breathed, the truth dawning like a sunrise and a storm all at once.
The King inclined his head.
“You were never alone, Bruce Wayne. He has always watched over you—my most loyal fragment.”
The words rippled through the room, through the air, through them.
And then the King’s eyes softened again, like winter giving way to spring.
“But now… I think it’s time I watch over you myself.”
His wings unfurled—
—and for the first time in years, Bruce felt something warm.
Peace.
The kind only a parent could give.
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