DOYLE D.

“No, you shouldn’t. Do you know what edge this would give me over the Hellstroms?” That’s what it was about not: getting ahead. gaining power and keeping it. It was easier said than done. “You’re very far from home, little prince. Come, I’ll make you tea and we can chat.”

doyle continued attempting to conjure a portal as she spoke, but the stress of the encounter wasn’t doing him any favors. when it became clear he wasn’t likely to be heading home any time soon, he quickly accepted his fate, hoping that strange would immediately notice his absence and track him to the baroness’s quarters.

Her own powers were on display as infinity fused energy flowed from her fists up her arms. “Look, kid, I’m not here to do anything but find Stephen Strange. The light show is just a precaution since you seem like you’re interested in turning me into human barbecue. Is he here?”

“I’m here to help.” Jane lowered her hammer. “Has Stephen Strange been here recently? I know he’s been meeting with Clea.”

Wanda held both hands up, devoid of magic. “I mean you no harm. You’re Doyle Dormammu, are you not?”

“Prince Doyle.” Rumors had made it to the halls of Doomstadt of the Faltine Prince who had been smuggled away as a baby but Victor refused to get involved in what he considered to be petty domain disputes. “Forgive me, I’m here to see your aunt.”

doyle was starting to get very annoyed by the amount of random passersby that seemed to show up looking for strange or clea. his location was surely compromised by this point. one now flameless hand raked down his face in frustration.

“It’s fine, Doyle. Really.” Clea’s face softened. “I know things have been… complicated as of late. I’m sorry I haven’t been here more.”

“Why isn’t he allowed to get involved in the affairs of the domains again? With all of the stuff going on here you’d think that he’d be fighting tooth and nail to stop it.” His Strange would, at least. There was no telling what the Battleworld version was like. But then again, if Steven had his memories, did Strange? Did anyone else?

Steven couldn’t help but notice the lingering glow and just prayed quietly to himself that he wasn’t going to get himself torched by continuing to engage with the boy. But he couldn’t help it, especially after recognizing the young man. 

“I don’t enjoy my job? I mean, I s’pose it’s not as bad as handling inventory at a gift shop, but it’s still pretty shite.” He was rambling now, wasn’t he? It was easier to get lost in it when he didn’t have Marc in his ear nattering about how annoying he was being. And oddly enough, there was nothing more he wanted in that moment than to be bickering with Marc of all things. 

“It’s all very complicated, really. But I promise you that I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just trying to find my way out of the Darkforce Dimension.”

“Hey, hey, that’s not true, son. Doyle!” Stephen didn’t waste any time in bursting up from his chair to gently catch the chair behind Doyle before it completely tumbled onto the ground, and once it was secure he held his hands out gently and tried to motion for Doyle to calm down.

He barely even had time to process the fact that he called Doyle his son. That was what the relationship felt like, which was why it was killing Stephen everytime a flash of his life before Battleworld made its way to his mind. This wasn’t real. Not in any way that mattered, at least. It was a carefully constructed fabrication from Doom. 

Right?

And yet he still felt the need to pull Doyle into a hug anyways, but he held himself back because of the nature of Doyle’s, well… his everything. He couldn’t imagine a hug wouldn’t be painful. Especially right now when the boy was so fired up. Literally. 

“The Darkforce Dimension would be lucky to have you as their Baron. Do you hear me? You have a right to that throne, and I know that there’s no one else who would do a better job than you. The Hellstroms run the domain with an iron fist, and there’s a reason why everyone here is so unhappy. Clea and I aren’t ever going to push you into doing something you don’t want to do but we also aren’t going to leave you unprepared. When the time comes, you will be ready. It’s perfectly fine if you aren’t ready right now.”

doyle deflated almost immediately at strange’s words. sinking into the next closest chair, he let his head rest against the table, once angry flames fizzling out to sad, faint embers.

as much as he wanted to trust the man’s words, believe his reassurances, he didn’t feel ready. he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel ready. but such were family obligations, right? if he wasn’t going to do it, who would?

doyle’s thoughts drifted to his father for a moment and the teen pondered what he might have thought. he certainly wouldn’t have condoned the outburst he’d just had, and the idea made doyle sit up a bit straighter, hold his chin a bit higher.

but only for a moment.

doubt quickly flooded back in and he let his head fall to the tabletop once more, folding his arms across it this time, and burying his face within.

“Expecting someone else?” Clea asked, looking to her nephew. She made no move to raise her own hands or emit any magic.

“–Hey.” Emily held both hands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You again. Do you realize how high the bounty is on you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in hiding, little prince?” 

“Well, I suppose business is still happening. Although you of all people don’t need to hear about that.”

Stephen couldn’t help the sympathetic smile that spread across his face at the sight of Doyle looking so frustrated. There were bigger threats ahead of them now than the Hellstroms and his throne, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to put that on the younger boy’s plate right now.

He could conjure a memory spell and attempt to restore Doyle’s consciousness, but it was risky and not something he could do alone. And he didn’t have enough memories alone with Doyle yet to share his own mind like he’d done with Clea. 

It was conflicting, having memories from both Battleworld and their prior reality at battle in his head, and he had to remind himself that this oddly paternal protectiveness he felt for the boy wasn’t real. Not in his reality, at least. And yet he still felt the urge to stand up and pull Doyle into a hug, to try and reassure him that he would be ready when the time came to claim his birthright. 

Swallowing, he shrugged at Doyle’s response. “I’m gonna go with the honest one, if that’s alright with you. You can always be honest with me.”

looking up at the other, doyle shrugged as well, eyes watery with unshed tears. he wasn’t going to cry in front of strange, no way.

but god was it hard not to.

“i’m not - i don’t –– ” he stuttered, swiping a hand across his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away any stray moisture, snot, whatever. it didn’t matter; he was not crying.

“ - i’m not ready,” he finally admitted, voice small.

why was it all up to him? the weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders, and doyle was not particularly well versed in being able to handle it. magic was one thing. his skills were quickly growing and improving, he was learning more each and every day.

his confidence, however, was lower than ever.

“I almost got mauled by a werewolf due to a bloke losing his bloody mind during an assignment. I’m not in any mood to be fucked with, thank you very much.”

“Every domain is marked by tragedy and injustice. Why would yours be any different?”