After the revolution, Danny became king of the Infinite Realms. To secure peace with the mortal world, he accepted a political marriage with a powerful figure from the heroes’ side—someone who carried their own duty, their own reputation, and their own expectations.
But they never had the chance to truly know each other. The marriage was a matter of necessity, not affection, and Danny—pressed by council and tradition—forced the matter of an heir. It was not something he was proud of. He tried to be kind, even generous, but there was no avoiding the weight of obligation.
At first, Danny stayed close, determined to show care during the pregnancy. But the demands of rulership pulled him away, and worse still, Vlad’s betrayal forced his hand. His old mentor had schemed to harm, drug, even violate his consort in order to gain control. The king acted swiftly, executing him without hesitation.
From the outside, it looked like ruthless cruelty. To his consort, it felt like abandonment followed by bloodshed. And the distance between them hardened into cold silence.
The League took notice. A young monarch ruling the dead, tied by marriage to one of their own, yet seemingly cold and merciless—how long before such power threatened their world? Diplomats whispered, observers watched, and every glance at Danny’s spouse became another accusation: are you safe? do you serve willingly?
But in truth, there was no abuse, no cage. Only two people trapped in misunderstanding, bound by duty and silence. One believing he was unwanted, the other too burdened and ashamed to explain the truth.
And now, with politics tightening around them and suspicions rising, their fragile arrangement risked shattering. The question was no longer whether they could rule together—
but whether they could even survive one another.
Danny’s marriage gave him an heir: a daughter, the princess of the Infinite Realms. Her birth solidified his throne, quieting factions at court that doubted his legitimacy. To the outside world, she was proof of stability. To her parents, she became the single bridge between them.
As the years passed, the princess became the jewel of the Infinite Realms. She was the perfect heir—curious, bright, and strong, already adored by court and people alike. To many, she seemed to embody everything her parents lacked: warmth, unity, promise.
But the balance of the family twisted quickly.
Danny, who often seemed distant from his consort, devoted himself to his daughter whenever duties allowed. He carried her through council chambers, trained with her in the palace yards, and spoke to her with a gentleness that no courtier had ever seen from the young king. The world interpreted this as proof: to him, only the princess mattered.
His consort felt it too. Where Danny offered silence and distance to their spouse, he gave smiles and attention to their child. And the little girl, too young to sense the weight of politics, began to gravitate toward her father. She trusted him, clung to him, sought his presence above all else. Court whispers turned cruel: the king has no love for his consort, only for his heir—and even the child knows it.
The consort was not unloved by their daughter—yet every refusal to leave her father’s side, every moment where she chose Danny’s arms over theirs, carved deeper into the rift. To them, it was a constant reminder: that they had been forced into this life, that their marriage was only duty, and that even their child seemed to choose the king over them.
What none of them knew was that Danny’s affection for his daughter came from guilt—the desperate attempt of a young king to give her all the love he believed he had stolen from her other parent. But his silence ensured no one would ever see that truth.
The princess was the jewel of the Infinite Realms—beloved by the people, admired by the court, and quietly feared by foreign powers. To many, she was more than a child: she was the future of two worlds.
And so the whispers began. Factions in the Realms spoke of betrothal, of alliances sealed through her hand. The Justice League suggested “educational opportunities” beyond the throne room, a polite way of saying they wanted influence over her upbringing. Even within the palace, advisors murmured that the princess should be guided by others to ensure she became a ruler fit for both realms.
His stance was not subtle, nor diplomatic. He made it clear—at council, in court, even to League representatives—that his daughter was not a bargaining chip, not a treaty in human form, and not a weapon to be sharpened by anyone but herself. “She is my daughter,” he told them, voice as sharp as steel, “and no throne, no crown, no treaty will make her anything less than that.”
The declaration won him loyalty among those who admired his defiance, but it also fed the image of a ruthless king. To the League, it looked like possessiveness. To the court, it seemed obsession. To his consort, it only deepened the wound: Danny defended their child with fire and fury, yet offered nothing but cold silence to the person he had married.
The princess, unaware of the storm she represented, clung to her father with innocent trust. Each smile she gave him, each time she reached for his hand over her other parent’s, was seized upon by gossip. Even the child knows where the true bond lies, the whispers said
stormborns
germansingergirl
