The King Who Knocked on the Door
DP x DC – Full Fic: After the Summoning
It started with the clocks.
Every clock in Wayne Manor froze at 3:03 AM.
No ticking. No hum. No heartbeat of the house.
Jason woke first, gun in hand. Tim’s computer crashed mid-update. Damian’s sword hummed. Dick’s phone displayed static, and Bruce—Bruce felt something in his chest shift, like time itself had inhaled and forgotten to exhale.
Then the doorbell rang.
One soft ding.
Alfred appeared before Bruce could reach the door, his calm smile sharper than usual.
“You might want to let him in, Master Wayne.”
“Him?” Bruce asked.
The butler only straightened his tie and said, “He prefers Danny, these days.”
When Bruce opened the door, the world went silent.
The man standing on the doorstep wasn’t the star-crowned titan from the summoning circle. He looked… human. Almost.
White hair brushed over his shoulders, faint green glow in his eyes, the kind that came from depths too deep to name. A simple black coat, frost clinging to the hems, and a faint shimmer like galaxies folded behind his smile.
“Hello,” he said softly. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
The words vibrated through the floor. Birds stopped mid-song outside.
Jason’s gun lowered on its own. Dick blinked, unable to breathe. Damian, of course, stepped forward like a challenge.
“You are the entity that called us ‘children.’”
Danny tilted his head.
“You are.”
“We are grown warriors!” Damian snapped.
“And yet,” Danny murmured, “you’re still small.”
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Danny’s gaze flickered to the portraits on the wall—Thomas, Martha, and the younger faces framed in shadow.
“You’ve lost so much,” he whispered. “And still you built something that breathes.”
It wasn’t an accusation.
It sounded like admiration.
Behind them, Alfred quietly refilled a teacup that was already full. Steam rose backward. The seconds hesitated.
Danny’s attention shifted. “You’ve kept your promise well, my friend.”
Alfred bowed slightly. “Time keeps its oaths, Majesty.”
Every light in the Manor flickered green for a heartbeat.
Bruce finally found his voice.
“Why are you here?”
Danny looked at him—really looked—and something ancient softened in his expression.
“Because Time told me you needed a father.”
Silence.
Even the air seemed to wait.
And then—Danny smiled.
Gentle. Knowing. Eternal.
“May I come in, Bruce?”
The shadows on the walls bent toward him like flowers seeking sunlight.
He stepped inside. The Batkids instinctively moved back, but the warmth rolling off him was undeniable. It didn’t burn. It soothed.
He knelt, reaching a hand toward Damian first. The boy’s sword twitched, but Danny’s fingers brushed his hair with the care of someone who had waited centuries to touch a child again.
“You’ve always been brave,” Danny murmured. “But you’ve forgotten what it is to feel safe.”
Damian froze, and even Jason blinked. Tim whispered something about “that’s… that’s impossible,” and Dick’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in months.
Bruce watched silently. He realized the truth: Danny wasn’t just the Ghost King, the Eldritch entity, or the Phantom of legend. He was a guardian, a parent, a fragment of time itself tasked with watching over them.
Alfred’s eyes met Bruce’s with a soft gleam.
“He has always been with us, Master Wayne. In ways you could not see.”
Danny stood then, wings unfurling slightly, brushing the ceiling. The glow from his eyes softened to a pale green, almost human.
“You are my family,” he said simply. “And I will not leave you again.”
For the first time in the Manor’s long history, every heartbeat—human, ghost, and spectral—seemed to synchronize with a quiet, enduring truth:
They were home.
And for the first time in centuries, the Ghost King smiled not as a ruler, but as a father.
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