Chapter Text
The Champion Of Magic is meant to keep the balance and protect all that is magic, it's a job that's rather… dull… at least it's been so since the Sorcerer Supremes were created.
But.
Not all universes had Sorcerer Supremes, nor all Sectors, and he still had to interfere if the Sorcerer Supremes couldn't handle the threat. Which was rare, but highly possible.
But the world where he's taken permanent residence has no Sorcerer Supreme, why should it? He can protect it just fine.
Nothing can get past him.
Or that's what he thought until it happened.
He had been in the middle of a meeting listening to Batman speak about their faults in the last mission and what should be done to not let it happen again when he felt it.
A ripple through the universe, a shockwave that made his whole body flinch as the breath caught in his throat, lightning unconsciously crackling in his hands, sending a ripple of electricity through the table and making the lights above burst into a shower of glass. Distorted cracks spreading through reality like a poisonous co-web.
It's so unexpected and massive that he finds himself recoiling back as alarm and confusion overtake him, what the hell?
"Dude, what the hell?" He ignores Flash and everyone else as he stands up, trying to figure out where that deafening anomaly came from. Where? It's too loud to be too far. It's nearby, definitely nearby.
It's not far. It's here. It's here. In this very universe. The howling mismatched harmony is proof enough. He can't feel right though, space has always messed up with his ability to sense the happenings on Earth, and so he teleports back into Fawcett City .
He feels through the world, feeling the discrepancies, the cracks, off, off , and he follows it to Europe.
Then it hits.
The discrepancies that hover like toxic vines over millions of people across the universe. As something chips away and groans, like struggling gears… crackling and snapping completely altogether. Like an old clock that's finally begun to give up as a piece was removed.
An Endless.
To be more precise, Oneiros .
How- what the hell happened? He just talked to him a few hours ago, he had just dealt with a crumbling universe nearby, he had been left drained, sure, but he had been perfectly fine. So what the hell had happened in the few hours since he left him?
He yanked the leylines surrounding him, reading through them, demanding to see what happened, who did it, and where.was.Oneiros.
An image flashed across his head.
A giant glass sphere, inside, a very familiar man laid at, unconscious and bare, none of his belongings in sight.
Red flashed in his vision, fingers curling into fists and lightning crackling at the corner of his mouth, eyes blazing. Thunder and lightning split the skies apart with fiery whiplashes of burning light as a pit of fire sprouted in his chest, a wildfire of pure rage spreading through, he took a dive and bolted straight towards where he knew Oneiros was at.
A shockwave of electricity followed after him, engulfing the entire city in absolute darkness as all power was cut off, but he didn't care, he could care less about anything and everything right now, because someone had captured an Endless, and not just an Endless, but his friend , and he was gonna make them pay. No one messed with those he cared for and went unpunished.
And he had the perfect excuse for that, anyone who messed with any anchor immediately became someone he could certainly punish however he felt like. He arrived at a mansion, using his magic to turn himself invisible as he slipped into the enormous house, tracking down Oneiros' aura.
Which led him to a basement, he floated down the stairs, landing with nothing but a whisper, there were two guards going through magazines, a man and a woman, both with no shame whatsoever on their faces over the very alive being trapped inside a glass sphere, as if he were nothing but a zoo attraction or some exotic pet.
He turned to look at Oneiros, trapped within a binding circle drawn on golden paint, made with the blood of deities, the place reeked of intense magic, magic that could only be found on the Magdalene grimoire. He could smell a coin made from stone, a knife from under the hills, the blood from the caster, he could hear a song stolen from the dirt, and the traces of the feather from an angel.
His eyes hardened as he approached the cage, such a nauseating sight, it made his blood boil, lights flickering above, to see his friend in such a state . He came to a halt infront of the binding circle, reaching out to press his hand against the glass. Where his friend was on display, as if he were nothing but a thing, anything but a living being.
He would never be alerted for beings being summoned, all beings of magic could be summoned, even him himself, it was a part of laws not even the Champion could change . He was only alerted if they were cut off from the world for longer than necessary. If they were basically stolen and potentially enslaved.
Just like Oneiros was right now, and he didn't want to know the mess this must have caused by now.
"Don't worry, I will get you out, and those who have wronged you will pay." He swore under his breath, he would never forgive anyone who hurt the people he cared about.
He pulled his hand back, looking up at the ceiling as his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"But first thing first." He would first get rid of the bastard who trapped him here.
Roderick Burgess.
He teleported back upstairs, straight into the man's office where he was passing around, and without missing a beat, he dropped the camouflage, making himself visible once again.
"Roderick Burgess." He greeted, voice cold and vast, rage barely contained, electricity crackling at the corners of his mouth, lights flickering and windows cracking.
"What-? You?! Freak, how did you get in here? Gu-!” Thavma cut off the man's shout as he reappeared infront of him, grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall, legs dangling as a strangled gasp left him.
“How dare you?” He hisses, lightbulbs and windows exploding, a cold, howling wind leaking into the room as thunder roared outside. Rain droplets hitting the wood floor, soaking papers and curtains.
“Father?!”
“Sir?!”
People shouted from outside the door, fists banging against the wood and twisting the doorknob, but he didn't let anyone through it. What he wanted was for this man to suffer. Him and him alone for daring to set eyes upon his friend. For daring to imprison him. For how long had he been thinking to keep him prisoner for?
“With what right have you dared to imprison an Endless? How dare you use my magic for that?” He asked in a low whisper, several echoes laced in his voice, the thunderstorm in his eyes reflecting on the man's very own wide, terrified eyes.
The man's breath coming out in desperate gasps, eyes watering as his face began turning purple, he released him, dropping him violently on the ground, prompting Burgess to gasp loudly, gasping for air and coughing.
Billy watched him with cold eyes as he dragged himself across the floor, away from him. Watched him snatch a gun from under the desk and shoot him, but the bullets just bounced off his chest, dropping on the floor with metallic clinks.
He shot lightning at the man's hand, making him shout and release the gun. More thunder roared outside with a deafening boom, walls reverberating and wind sending the desk flying across the room.
“Aren't you one of those goody two shoes freaks from America? What do you want? Are you one of his siblings? Just so you know I'm not letting him go. You-”
“ Silence!” Thavma snarled, voice booming across the room, lightning illuminating the room as an ear splitting thunder crashed nearby, setting an explosion off, his eyes ablaze with fury as electricity crackled all over his body. “ I'm not an Endless .” He states as he begins walking towards the man, prompting this one to stand up and run towards the door. “I'm something far freer than an Endless, their rules aren't mine to follow.”
He grins, satisfied as he watches Burgess struggle to open the door. He uses his telekinesis to throw the man across the room, slamming him against the walls, floor and ceiling repeatedly until he is left satisfied, finally dropping him on the floor, blood covering his face and body from where glass from the windows and lightbulbs had dug through.
Marvel comes to stand above him, kneeling by his side, expression thunderous and eyes glowing as he reaches out to touch the man's face.
“I'm the Champion Of Magic and I make sure people like you disappear, so not even Death can find you.” He states, he might be forgiving, but he drew the line at the people he cared about getting hurt, that's just not something he could forgive. Even less if they were imprisoned as if they were mere slaves for others to use to their own gains.
Maybe once, when he was just Billy Batson, 100% human. Stupid enough to forgive Black Adam for killing his parents. Just to have him destroy his house with his new family in it. Sometimes, forgiveness wasn't all, and he didn't care what Calliope said about that. Some people didn't deserve forgiveness.
And that was alright. It's what Zeus had told him once.
“I read about you… you can give me… my son back.” Burgess said through wet coughs, blood trailing down his cheeks and nose. For a moment, Thavma didn't answer, and then.
“No. Your son is dead and he is to stay so, it's what fate dictates and you nor anyone can change it.”
He states, voice harsh and deep, echoing throughout every corner of the room, filling everything with electricity. His hand traveled to rest on the man's chest.
“I know, that Oneiros would love to be the one to carry out his revenge on you. But I cannot allow you to summon and bind another Endless while I'm gone, and even so, this is my choice, you, Roderick Burgess, do not deserve my gift.”
With that said, he introduced his hand through Burgess’ chest, light surrounding his arm as the man's hollers engulfed the room, gurgling and desperate, sounds like nothing a human throat should be able to make.
He reached deep into his chest through the mystical plane, magic rippling through Burgess’ insides, burning away bit by bit any trace of magic within the man, splotches appearing on his skin as flesh began melting off the muscles, bubbling up and rotting away like some sort of necrotic tissue, blood oozing out as his eyes turned red, blood rushing down his cheeks, his ears, his nose. He writhed on the ground with gurgling, choked sounds, but Billy didn't let go.
He tore and burnt every single bit of magic, yanking it much more violently and brutally than anything he had ever done, but anger was bigger, to use magic, his gift to trap and hurt one of his friends? How dare he?
And when he reached for the last bit, he set it off like a firecracker with his own magic, making light explode from the man's once magic core, eyes bursting with a wet plop, all flesh burning away, leaving nothing but a red, smoking, hemorrhaging form of muscles and bones on the ground. Laying in a puddle of his own blood as he writhed on the ground, groans and gurgling sounds scratching his throat like some sort of wounded animal.
He removed his hand, stepping back and looking down at the disfigured form on the ground, writhing in his own blood, no eyes, no flesh, no ability to form a coherent word. And his once magic core completely destroyed and torn apart beyond repair. He would never be able to do magic. To touch it. Not even its wisps. He will never use it again at all.
Marvel stood there for a moment, thunder rumbling above and lightning illuminating the room. His shadow towering over the man.
One last look and he went over to the safe, tearing it open, he grabbed the grimoire, the pouch of sand, the ruby, the helm and the clothes, throwing the first four into a pocket dimension and the other one he kept it in his hand. He dropped all magic on the room, letting the door be open, it burst open immediately, a young boy and several men filling in.
And they all froze in place upon the sight of the squirming, grotesque, barely human body on the ground. He met the young man's eyes, Alex Burgess . A sharp smile splitting across his face, lightning illuminating his face as wind howled around the room, whipping his cape wildly, his presence overtaking every corner of the room, thick and intoxicating, making many drop to their knees screaming in hysterics while Alex stumbled back and landed on his backside .
“ Go after any other Endless, and I will be sure you have a fate worse than your father's.”
His voice echoed across the room, like a deep, cold whisper that reverberated through the very walls.
Right now, he isn't Captain Marvel, beloved hero. Nor Billy Batson, optimistic hearted child.
Right now. He is the Champion Of Magic. Protector of all that's magic. And he was less compassionate with those who wronged others. He won't go easy on a child, he was one once and sometimes, even children needed to know their age wouldn't protect them from their actions.
Alex Burgess will do well to forget about this whole endeavor of resurrecting the dead or enslaving other beings.
He teleported back to the basement, sending the guards crashing into the ceiling with a wave of the hand, hard enough to knock them out, their bodies landing carelessly on the desk. He stalked towards the sphere, stepping on the binding circle and setting it ablaze with his own magic. He hit the glass with his magic, twisting it, making the glass morph into sand, the upper half of the sphere disappearing as sand rained down on the floor in silent whispers of golden grains.
And using his magic, he dressed Oneiros back with his black robes, this before hoisting him up, careful. He could hear the quick footsteps upstairs, the screams and shouts, he whispered under his breath, a spell to keep Death away from Roderick Burgess, he would stay alive until Billy chose otherwise.
He wouldn't let him die until Oneiros himself chose what his fate would be.
He teleported outside, at the back of the house where several trees were burning despite the howling wind and pouring rain, a caw catching his attention as a familiar black and white raven came to land on his shoulder.
“Hello Jessamy.”
“Is he-?”
“Don't worry he is alright. Would you tell Lucienne that I have him and that I will make sure he is safe until he wakes up and can go back to the Dreaming on his own?" He could take him there himself, but stepping into the realm of an Endless uninvited has never felt quite right, their realms were them.
To step uninvited… it just didn't felt right. It felt wrong, uncomfortable and like he was breaking some sort of law. He was the Champion Of Magic and his job was to protect all magic, true, some might think he wouldn't care to step into other beings' realms uninvited, but that wasn't the case. Even when visiting Hell he always made sure to get an invitation.
It was polite. He wouldn't want people to come uninvited to the Rock, if it was possible that was, only he could allow who entered.
Plus, Oneiros' life wasn't in danger.
He could also take him to the Rock, but the Rock wouldn't do much for him, he would fare better here, even more so since here he might be able to find someone asleep which would aid Oneiros into getting back to the Dreaming. Although he's seen him use his sand to leave, so maybe he didn't even need someone asleep to begin with.
He could feel how the cracks in reality were starting to seal, the gears beginning to turn with more ease, all the people who suffered his short absence were waking up.
It would be alright.
Jessamy nodded at him, though she looked a bit unsure, or as unsure as a raven could look.
"I will keep him safe, don't worry." He promises, knowing full well that that might be what had her so uneasy.
“... Then I shall be going.” One last look at Oneiros, and she was gone, and just as she left, he heard a whoosh and before he knew it, Flash was right across from him, eyes wide and confused.
And oh, well fuck.
Soon enough, the whole Justice League was there, Superman looking horrified beyond words, and Billy could bet the Rock of Eternity itself that Clark must have certainly heard some of what he had done here or what was happening inside.
Well, that sucked, and while it did make him nervous, he wasn't about to regret it, he did what had to be done, and more. He would never say sorry for protecting his friends. His family. Oneiros was family and he would never be weak enough to forgive those who have hurt his family. Never again. He won't lose any more family ever again.
"Watchtower." Is all Batman commands, and Thavma doesn't have a reason to argue, the Watchtower is the second safest place he could ever think of. And so he shifts Oneiros in his grip before teleporting to the Watchtower.
He reappears in the room he never uses, Batman has given room to them all for when some were too tired after missions to make it back home or in case there were other troubles. He goes over to the bed, gently depositing Oneiros on it.
He pulls out the dreamstone from his pocket dimension, placing it on his chest. He would never understand why he had to go and lock so much of his power on that necklace. What if someone stole it? Or modified it? Or stole its power?
He also pulls out the pouch of sand, this one he places it on Dream's hand, closing his fingers around it. He puts the helm next to him too.
He chooses to just sit at the end of the bed, he won't leave him alone, he might be safe here but Thavma would feel a whole lot better if he didn't let him out of his sight.
He pulls the grimoire out, flipping through it, wanting to see how it was that they managed to subdue Oneiros.
This book was meant to have information of deities and beings that had some sort of connection to the balance of things. Did have some spells, but no spell should be able to drain the being summoned. Bound and powerless? Yes.
But never drained, left unconscious and practically cut off from reality itself, he wrote this grimoire and that's not how the spells here work, he would never make such a disgusting spell. And as weak as Oneiros had been, that shouldn't have been possible. He frowned as he came to a stop on the page, he remembers the ingredients used for the spell, an odd skill of his, he could smell, hear and see what ingredients had been used for any spell.
This one had them.
But something about this… he tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, someone had tampered with the spell. Someone who knew just exactly how to hurt an Endless. He flipped the book shut with a loud snap. He knew just who did this, and he could almost feel a migraine coming, he took a deep breath. Calm. Deep breaths.
He threw the grimoire back in his pocket dimension, pinching the bridge of his nose before realizing it was covered in blood, he grimaced in disgust. A quick spell later and all blood was gone. He threw a look at Oneiros, oh, once he found out who did that to him it was gonna break him.
Even Billy was having trouble wrapping his head around it. He knew Desire had a terrible relationship with Oneiros, but to trap him like that? With what purpose? In fact, what the hell had Desire been thinking about? Did they forget the part where the Endless are a very crucial part of the world's balance?
God, why did everyone always try so hard to give him extra work? Why was everyone always so eager to make his job harder than it was? Wasn't he good with them? Did he not listen enough? What could they possibly be aiming for by acting like absolute assholes hellbent on giving him migraines?
Still.
He would leave Desire to Oneiros, the less he had to meddle in Endless' affairs, the better, even more so if it concerned Desire, he just… couldn't handle that one, they were always pushing his buttons or acting as if Billy was overreacting. Or like they had no idea what he might be talking about.
He just didn't have the same mental strength the Endless had when dealing with Desire and their antics. He sometimes wanted to scream and strangle the Endless if it meant they would listen and stop trying to gaslight him into believing the stupidest of excuses.
Point was, he would leave that to Oneiros, he just wanted to sit here and watch over him and make sure he was alright.
And while he did take care of Burgess, he was still seething, because Oneiros had always been good with people, I mean, yeah, he wasn't a saint, but who was? Not even Thavma considered himself a saint. He's done many things he would rather not remember.
But Oneiros had always been one of the less problematic Endless, one of the less problematic big deities in general . He didn't deserve what was done to him, even less after he just saved an entire universe.
He also felt like he owed him, Oneiros had been the one to save him once when things went very, very wrong a few centuries ago in his universe. Someone had created a book with magic from the Dark dimension, making spells beyond anything that should ever be allowed.
The Book of the Damned.
And he had been trapped, very much similar to how Oneiros had been trapped, just that he had been sealed inside a crystal, by a man under the name of Theodore Styne, he had brandished his power, had felt like his very insides were being torn apart repeatedly, as he watched his power be used to kill innocents, blood staining the streets and screams that even now he could hear whenever he closed his eyes.
Oneiros had freed him, had taken him back to the Dreaming and let him recover there. He had stayed there for so long, afraid of the outside world, of the potential nightmares… Calliope had helped him a lot, and so had Orpheus. To him, they were more than just friends, much like the League , they were yet another family to hold close to his heart.
As the Champion, loneliness was familiar to him, after C.C. and Marylin Batson's abrupt death, he had been torn, hadn't wanted to let people in. Because they had been so similar to his own parents, long before he was this, before he was Thavma.
And yet again, he lost them.
Then years later, he met the Vasquezes, and they died too . After that, he hadn't been able to let other people get close, afraid that he might just end up hurting them in the end. He had spent his time buried in his work or just sulking in the Dreaming, watching the collective consciousness, seeing how millions of people had what he could never have.
A life. A family.
Death had been the one who convinced him to choose a universe and live. That there was no use being immortal if he was gonna spend it sulking or buried in his work, to not be afraid of getting close to others, the beauty of life was the friends they made along the way, the loss would always hurt, but they would always have beautiful memories to remember.
It wasn't about the end, but about the start, the beauty of living, of loving and losing, of the bad and the good. That's what it meant to be alive.
It's how he ended up with the Justice League, he had chosen a world where superheroes were normal, it's been a long time since he had been in a world with the Justice League. He had been unsure when he first joined them, the last Justice League he had met had been far too condescending with him, both because of his behavior and because of his physical age once it was revealed.
But this one was different… even if he never told them who he was, even if he was still acting as he was used to. None of them was condescending to him, his voice did matter, he was even allowed to create strategies for missions, to solve his own cases, they didn't look down on him. They didn't speak of him behind his back.
It was nice… to be trusted and respected. It was the reason he liked them so much, and made him at times wish he could tell them the truth about who he was, what he was. To finally be able to trust them completely, to make them know he actually did trust them.
But then he remembered that world where he told the Justice League who and what he was, and all of a sudden, all magical mishaps that happened he was called on, eventually, making the magic users avoid him completely altogether. They had all left, saying there was no point in staying in a team that didn't need them anymore.
He hadn't had a single moment of peace, he was called all the time for information, or just to help. And if he didn't answer, he got shouted at for it. That he needed to help them, he was part of the team, he needed to put the people first. Even if he told them a dozen times he had other things to do, it was like speaking to a wall.
They had been so harsh and fast to pass judgement. It had been exhausting and downright stressful to a point where he had many times snapped at civilians or refused to answer at all to anyone.
In the end, he hadn't been able to take it, he had left that world and never looked back. He was no one's lapdog, he didn't let the gods or Mamaragan order him around let alone speak like that to him, he sure as hell wasn't gonna let others do it. He had taken it at first because he had thought them to be his friends, that they cared, that they were just being logical, but they weren't his friends. To them, he was just a useful tool and that was it.
But this Justice League was nice, and the only orders he got were while in the battlefield, by Batman who was always willing to listen and didn't speak to him as if he were just an attack dog to keep on a tight leash. He actually listened.
And still… he had a feeling things might just change, and whatever he said today would define how his future in the League goes. But they had no idea what Burgess had done. They didn't understand the weight of it or what he had been aiming for. What he could have done. He used his gift to hurt someone he cared about. All for nothing but to satisfy his selfish and greedy needs.
What had he been aiming for? How long would he had kept him there? That cage had looked like it had been made to hold him for a long time. And it had had zero holes, he would- Oneiros would have spent who knows how long trapped there, eventually running out of air, making it unable to speak at all, he would have starved, not to death, but it wouldn't have been comfortable.
The sole thought made his blood boil, lights flickering above. Breathe. He has to stay calm. Breathe.
A rustle of feathers caught his attention, making him turn to see Jessamy materialize in the room, coming up to perch on the helm next to Oneiros.
“Lucienne sends her regards and her gratitude.” The raven informs, he nods at her, smiling.
“I just did what he would have done for me.” What he did for him. Billy knows full well how it feels like to be brought to your weakest point, to have others think they can exploit your power, that they can just put a leash on you and call it a day. That only because you are powerful, you owe them something. That it's your obligation to grant things only because you can.
He's just glad he was able to spare him from the horrors he himself lived. And he has no regrets whatsoever.
Oneiros might be a jerk sometimes, but Billy knew him well enough to say his friend has always been known to make all the fury of the Lord of Nightmares rain upon whoever hurt those he considered friends.
Thavma and Oneiros might be complete opposites, but that was something both of them had in common.
They would always be willing to kill for the people who mattered.
Chapter Text
Captain Marvel has been in the Justice League for over five years, and while initially many saw him as this endlessly happy and cheerful man who would never harm a fly unprovoked, they have come to learn that he was far from the airhead he presented himself as to the world.
He was smart, frighteningly so, and at times he showed to have a knowledge no regular person could ever achieve to have, he knew long lost languages, the layout of the entire planet, including cities, undiscovered islands and everything in between, he also knew the exact amount of stars and planets in the universe and what places had life within and which didn't, which were hostile, and which weren't. He also had an outstanding knowledge about magic for someone who didn't have magic.
The League has also seen him come up with strategies that end with him teaming up heroes whose skills match perfectly. Infallible strategies that end up in victories. At times it seemed as if he could match Batman himself when it came to wits.
But unlike Batman, he was less prompt to show it. He was the kind of person who would spin in chairs and laugh at immature jokes, rarely looking anywhere near as intimidating as Batman and by extension making it incredibly easy to forget he was one of their best strategists for a reason.
Still. He never gave reason to doubt him, he was one of the kindest people the League had ever met, he wasn't one for violence and most of the time he would be seen trying to talk to villains first.
Reason none of them could have ever been prepared for what met them in that mansion in Europe.
Captain Marvel had left the meeting without warning after an uncalled display of power, and then there had been dozens of alarms blaring all over the Watchtower and calls.
About how many people around the world had dropped unconscious out of absolutely nowhere, many of which had died or had been taken to the hospital as they lost consciousness in vehicles or unsafe places in general.
Even several of their civilian friends or loved ones had succumbed to it, heroes, civilians, villains, criminals… Chaos had erupted across the entire world within seconds.
Superman had heard Marvel, about how he possibly knew what just happened. Clark had also heard what came after that, he heard the threats and the attack. He heard it all.
And he had relayed the information to the team.
The group hadn't quite believed it, not even as Captain Marvel stepped out of the mansion holding someone. They didn't believe it until they found the owner of said mansion.
Roderick Burgess.
Or what was left of him, the man had been turned into a sack of flesh bleeding and gurgling on the floor, the sight haunting and like nothing ever seen before, sounds no human throat could ever do leaving him. He had been skinned alive, there was absolutely no rational or logical way in how the man was even still alive.
He had been taken to the hospital and the League had gotten to inspect the house after a nervous affirmative from Roderick Burgess' son, a kid no older than 10 who had been taken away by a police officer. The magic users had been called in too since it could be all of magic origin.
Which was what Zatanna, Dr. Fate and Constatine had thought until the group made it to the basement and got to inspect the runes.
"Bloody hell." Constantine felt shivers run down his spine and his hairs stand on end as he recognized the spells and what was intended to be bound.
"What is it?" Green Arrow asks, turning from where he had been staring at the cracked wall.
"These runes… the ignorant dickhead summoned an Endless."
"An Endless..?" Black Canary repeated, frowning in confusion.
"Anthropomorphic beings that control aspects of the universe, Death, Dream, Delirium, Desire, Despair, Destiny and Destruction. They are literal personifications of these attributes.” Dr. Fate states as he lets his gaze wander around the place, the remnants of magic still rippled through the air.
The Champion's magic.
And that's a disturbing thought, because that meant Marvel was the Champion, same Marvel Fate threw off a cliff for sneaking for the hundredth time into his Tower. And that explained so much regarding the man's ability to just keep sneaking into a place with zero doors and a magic maze that no one could pass through unless he chose to.
Or how he could read cursed books without so much as a twitch.
He's been throwing out of his Tower the very being who basically gave him his magic. And he was somehow still intact.
“These guys, they have a power you can't even begin to comprehend, and I'm not talking Darkseid or Superman level of power, I'm talking reality warping power. You kill one of them and the balance of the world will go completely haywire. For what you said about people's reactions… I would have my bet on Dream. The King of Dreams, cut him off the equation and trust me, that's gonna kill thousands ."
Zatanna adds when Dr. Fate says nothing else, all of a sudden, she felt like turning tail around and going home, if this was Endless business she wanted nothing to do with it. Even more so considering his part played here. They shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be questioning any of this. They should be as far away from here as possible.
Sure, Captain Marvel has never given the impression of someone who could get mad easily or hurt people, but if he was the Champion, that meant he could become a completely different person altogether. The Champion was a protector, not a killer.
But it's because he's a protector that he's ultimately one of the most dangerous beings in existence.
And Zatanna had cursed him several times, to make him leave glowing footprints behind whenever he walked, have flowers growing out of his very skin (of course it had been a painless spell, she hadn't actually wanted to cause him any harm) and giving him rainbow hair to rendering him mute for a whole hour, putting a spell on his clothes to make them switch colors everytime he moved and tricking him into flying face first into a wall for laughing at her.
And he's never retaliated. She has been cursing him and refusing to let him into her magic shows, when the only reason she has magic is because he allows it. He could have taken it all away for her disrespect, yet, for some reason she couldn't possibly fathom, he hadn't.
Point is, this is a different issue, this falls under the sort of things that draw the Champion out. This isn't Justice League matters nor even something regular laws can deal with.
"The king of dreams as in the Sandman? You know, like the quiet glittery guy from that movie? That king of dreams?" Flash questions out of nowhere, unsure he's understanding this whole thing.
"He's no glittery guy, and make no mistake, Dream of the Endless isn't just the king of dreams, he's also the king of nightmares, he can and will put you through horrors you couldn't possibly begin to understand, he's not someone you want to cross. Nor mess with for that matter. Even demons know to not mess with an Endless" Dr. Fate says, the Endless were beings you were better off not getting involved with for many, many reasons.
First of all, the fact that your life could be completely altered by getting on their bad side alone was enough to make any sane person not want to so much as think about them. Very much like the Champion. These beings weren't something people usually interacted with.
Nor beings people even saw just like that, it took a special kind of cosmic situation for someone to even come across an Endless that wasn't Death, and that only happened if she was the one who came for you. When you died.
"Was he the one who did that to all those people?" Wonder Woman asks, frowning as she glances at the iron contraption, half a glass sphere connected to it, the sand surrounding it… if she didn't know better, she would say there had been a whole globe of glass there.
It made her shudder, the idea that someone would be vile enough to deprive someone else of their freedom for their own gains… it was disgusting.
"Not on purpose. It's what happens when an anchor is cut off from the world, the Endless are anchors. To mess with one of them… you are putting the world in jeopardy, reality as you know it will go out of balance. You would have to be one crazy bastard to want to capture one.”
And arrogant beyond belief. Not even John would go that far.
“But he's free now, right? That means nothing bad will happen, right?” Aquaman asks, wanting to be sure this was the end of it.
“Maybe.”
“What about Marvel? He had someone, was that him, did he take him?” Superman isn't sure how to feel when the magic users look away.
“It's not our place to say anything, but you should know that if Marvel is involved, you really shouldn't be meddling, he knows what he's doing.”
“Is that why he killed a man?”
Silence, for a moment, no one said anything.
And then Zatanna sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“Look, all I can say is that Marvel's much more important than you are aware, he has certain responsibilities as… what he is, and sometimes, he has to do certain things many might not find acceptable, and you nor anyone for that matter should interfere, what he does, he does it for the greater good. You couldn't possibly begin to understand the weight of what he must endure, and neither can we, I don't think anyone can.”
Zatanna made sure to be as vague as possible, not wanting to expose Marvel, he might be nice, but if he hasn't told them it means he doesn't want them to know. And she would rather not get on his bad side.
Especially today. Burgess' state left quite clear he might definitely not be in a forgiving mood.
“In what world doing that to someone is for the greater good?” Batman asks, refusing to just accept that explanation, Zatanna's words left quite clear she, they knew something the rest of them didn't. And considering it's the magic users, that means it's magic related, important enough to have made them react so strongly.
Marvel had teleported. And for the looks of it, it was vastly clear Captain Marvel was magic, all this time, and he's never bothered to say anything about it. And alright, Bruce wouldn't see an actual problem with it if it wasn't for the fact that the man he believed to be harmless and incapable of hurting a fly had downright skinned a man alive. And hadn't looked remotely guilty about it.
“Look, why don't you talk to him, alright? Just, he's not dangerous, I don't know why he chose to play hero nor why he's walking all over the place so carelessly, but he's one of the good guys, I can tell you that much.” Zatanna needs them to understand this, Captain Marvel is not a threat or an enemy, ultimately, they want the same thing. Protect.
The League doesn't seem convinced, like, at all.
Zatanna sighs.
~
The League finds Marvel at the Watchtower, or well, he needs to be tracked down since he isn't at the meeting room as first thought, and for a moment, some have the fleeting thought that he might have not come here at all.
He did, he was found in the room no one's ever seen him use before, he sits at the end of the bed, not a speck of blood on him as he flips through an odd looking book that seems to glow with all sorts of colors. On the bed lies the figure the League had seen Marvel leave with, a thin man with inhumanly white skin and a mess of black hair. He wore black clothes and some sort of equally dark robe. A strangely alluring ruby sits on his chest.
He looks almost… frail. It's flat out impossible to connect him to what the magic users had said. An anthropomorphic personification of the concept Dream. A being bigger than the universe, vaster. More than a God.
Yet, there's something about him that makes the air somewhat thinner, like despite being unconscious, his very presence is filling every corner of the room.
It makes some shudder, how do you even capture such a being? And how did Marvel just know where to look? Also, why is there a bird perched on that strange looking helm?
“Could we talk? In the meeting room?” Batman requests, forcing his gaze away from the unconscious man.
“I’m afraid not, whatever you wish to say, it will have to be here.” Marvel states, flipping the book shut, and the book just disappears. He looks serious, much more so than he's ever done.
“Nothing will happen to him here.” Superman assures. Yet, Marvel doesn't move, he stays there, the way he looks at them leaves very clear he won't be moving.
“Alright, we can talk here.” Diana says, breaking through the uncomfortable silence. It matters not where they speak, the point is to talk to him and get answers, the place was irrelevant.
“Why did you do that to Roderick Burgess?” Batman was not softening any blows, he went straight to the point. Marvel didn't seem particularly surprised, if all, his serene expression shifted into a hard one.
“He deserved it.” The cold, blunt answer caught several off guard, definitely not having expected that response from a man who would usually try to talk villains down and just chose anything else over violence. But his answer is cold, honest, and most terrifying of all? The way he says it leaves very clear he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. There's a coldness in his gaze that's concerning, piercing, dangerous.
“What do you mean he deserved it?” Diana asks, voice gentle, wanting to understand instead of judging him straight away, she knows her brother, her brother is kind, noble, selfless, he would never hurt anyone without a reason, even less like that. She wants to believe there is a reason. There must.
For a moment he says nothing, turning his attention away. He seems angry, frustrated, hesitant .
“Zatanna said something about you having certain responsibilities, and that these responsibilities make you do… certain things that might not always be entirely acceptable.” Hal says, he isn't sure why, but something about this whole ordeal feels off, like they are missing a very important piece of information that might help them piece the whole picture better.
Marvel turns to look at them, suddenly, he looks wary, seems to almost access them.
And then.
“I have a job, or well, it's more of a purpose, I was once human, a long, long time ago, long before… anyways, because of reasons, I was granted certain powers, with time, I became something else from what even those who gave me these powers expected, some things happened and…”
Billy bit back a groan, he had no idea how to explain this, regardless of how vague he was there was no way Diana or Shayera wouldn't catch on. Shit.
“You know what? Fine, I have no idea how to be vague enough about it, so I'm just gonna say it, I'm the Champion of Magic, I quite literally created magic.”
Or he became magic. But the League didn't need to hear that explanation; that would just take a long time to make it remotely understable.
“Its source is a place called the Rock of Eternity which exists everywhere and nowhere, sort of in a completely different dimension altogether, only I have access to it.”
And anyone he gives direct permission to. But again, the League doesn't need to know that. That's irrelevant since he isn't about to take them there anytime soon.
“One of my jobs is to protect that place since it also acts as an interdimensional prison for really problematic beings and has an infinite room with doors to every place and universe in existence. Long story short, I'm literally supposed to protect anything magic related since I'm the one who created it, so it stands to reason I take responsibility for it, that means dealing with the boring stuff too.”
Like politics, weddings, treaty offers between parties, play medium for beings trying to wage war against each other, among many, many other things.
“But before that, I was sort of tasked with dealing with multiversal stuff, like fixing nexus events, they are these absolute points in time that must happen, or else their universe quite literally falls apart, in the very sense where reality erases itself, places, people, everything disappears. Think of it as unwinding knots. Unwind enough of them and eventually it will all fall apart, so, someone needs to make sure those knots stay untouched.”
Though he wasn't about to say anything regarding what fixing certain nexus events entailed. If the League didn't like what he did to Burgess, they would certainly not like what he sometimes does or makes others do.
“I also deal with incursions, universes that collide with each other, destroying themselves in the process, it's what happens when someone interacts with a universe that's not their own, it's unusual since you have to make a great impact on the other world to actually trigger an incursion, although it can also happen if you mess enough with time. Can happen immediately if you end up in a whole different sector too. You see, the multiverse divides in seven sectors, each has over a billion universes within, and they never stop growing, and-”
Thavma shut up abruptly, realizing he might have said way more than he had initially planned, and maybe too much since the League is looking at him as if they had never seen him before.
Meanwhile, the League stares at Marvel, bewilderment, uneasiness, curiosity, many emotions rolled around their heads. Because what he just said… that's… now Zatanna's words made a whole lot of sense.
“I don't know why he chose to play hero nor why he's walking all over the place so carelessly.”
She had said that, and now knowing what they knew…
Wonder Woman and Hawkwoman knew what he was, the Champion was meant to be a protector, someone who would usually be more centered around magic and the balance of it all. Not walking among humans playing hero or getting thrown around by the villain of the week.
It makes curiosity and respect bloom, curiosity about why someone with his kind of job would end up taking residence in Fawcett City and become a hero, when he already had infinite responsibilities.
And respect towards the fact that despite all, somehow, he always managed to have time for people, Captain Marvel has always been known as one of the friendliest heroes for the very fact that he could always be found anywhere doing literally anything, playing with kids at the park, playing chess with the occasional elderly, helping someone paint their store or wash their car, babysitting, raking leaves, mowing lawns, helping people with their groceries, helping at soup kitchens.
He was literally everywhere.
If he was the Champion, how did he even have time for that? For anything for that matter?
“I said he deserved it because he used my gift to hurt him.” Marvel says suddenly, eyes darkening yet again as he glanced at the unconscious man on the bed. “He's… like family to me, the idea that that man was using something I made to hurt him… I couldn't stand it. He had him in that glass sphere, he took everything from him and left him there , as if he were displaying some sort of exotic object.”
Billy couldn't keep the disgust from his voice, the hatred, the resentment. Because he would never not hate those who saw anything remotely magical as tools to be exploited. But seeing someone he cared about being subjected to it… it made him feel a whole new kind of anger and disgust.
“It's clear he was willing to leave him there until he gave him what he wanted, which was to bring his dead son back to life, something Oneiros can't even do, he has no rule over the dead, that's his sister's territory, and even if he did. He wouldn't have given it to him, meaning Burgess would have never let him go, he would have spent who knows how long in there, just trapped. Many would have died, Burgess was willing to sacrifice thousands of lives for his own selfishness.”
Billy knows the type. Those who are willing to let everything burn if it means satisfying their own greed. And they will sacrifice anything in order to get it.
Anything.
Burgess had still had a son, that kid that couldn't be older than what Billy himself was (theoretically). The kid had been alive, young, Burgess should have been paying attention to him instead of trying to bring what was gone back.
But sometimes people were just stupid, wanting something impossible and ignoring what they actually had already.
“So I took his magic away, and I didn't care to be careful about it, I took it away and made sure to destroy that which makes people able to use magic in the first place, I made sure he would never be able to use it again, not even a wisp of it. You might find it wrong, that I might have overreacted, and maybe I did, but I won't apologize for it.” He looked up at them, a piercing gaze setting upon them, danger. “He had no right to try and use him as a tool. To trap him and think he had any right to his power.”
Billy will never let anyone become a tool. As long as he lived, he wouldn't let anyone he cared about become someone else's tool, to have their powers monopolized and used to hurt others or just for selfish reasons. Because he knows perfectly well how it feels to lose any autonomy, to be forced to do horrible things and be unable to do anything but watch.
And he doesn't care if the League gets mad, they don't know what it's like, to be trapped, to have someone else take everything from you and leave you at your weakest point, using you to hurt others or just to satisfy their senseless greed.
Oneiros saved him, but it had been late enough that he had almost not recovered from it all. And even then, even now, he still had nightmares about it, about being trapped behind glass, banging on the walls closing in on him and screaming, feeling as his power is stretched beyond measure, torn off bit by bit. As blood splashes the ground and screams fill the air. As people beg and cry. Kids, women, everyone being killed just for the fun of it or because they wouldn't kneel or submit to the man's god complex.
For years, every single day he was subjected to it all, making him feel as if he would go insane. At some point, he had begun trying to bite through his veins, trying to end it if it meant stopping that massacre. If it meant taking his power away from that monster.
But he never succeeded.
“It happened to you.” Dinah didn't mean to say that out loud, but the shock was such that it hit with enough force to make the words stumble out, at the sudden realization of where this whole anger and hatred was coming from.
Marvel's flinch was confirmation enough. He glared at her, opening his mouth as if to say something before seemingly catching himself and looking away instead.
“It was a long time ago and in a completely different universe from yours. I don't see how that is anywhere near relevant to anything. But yes, I was trapped once, Oneiros was the one who eventually freed me, so you could say I owe him, although freeing him hardly pays back what he did for me.” Billy doesn't think anything he ever does for Oneiros might pay what he owes him. Oneiros had basically saved his life in more than one sense. Calliope, Orpheus…
He was only alive because of them. Even Death had made him what he was today.
He almost jumps out of his skin when a hand touches his shoulder, making him turn abruptly just to barely recognize who it was before he is suddenly pulled into a hug. By Dinah. Why the hell-?
Yet, he doesn't push her off, even if he has no idea why she's hugging him, but it feels nice, it makes the remaining fire inside him disappear, his muscles which he hadn't even noticed where tense up until now, relax under the touch, and for the first time since this whole thing happened, it feels like he can finally breathe, even if he doesn't even need it.
It makes his throat tighten though, a strange burn in his chest as his vision blurs. He swallows past the lump in his throat. Yeah, no, he's definitely not crying here. He didn't think he would ever socially recover from that.
So he bites his tongue and powers through the emotions raging inside.
Meanwhile, Dinah couldn't help it, she had to hug him, because suddenly, she understands, the way he had said those words, it had been far too personal, like he understood them, like he lived through it.
And she can't imagine what it must have been like, the implications that freeing his friend didn't even come close to paying what was done for him, something tells her he might have spent more than just a few hours trapped. That someone, somewhere hadn't just taken his freedom away from him, but that they had also, somehow, stolen his power, used him as some sort of tool, possibly to hurt others or do things against his will.
Dinah doesn't condone what he did, but she understands, he didn't do it because he rejoiced in it or just because. She was sure he might not have even been 100% aware of the weight of what he was doing, he just saw his friend be trapped as he once was, he saw someone he cared about almost be put through something horrible he went through.
And so he snapped and did whatever he had to to ensure he would never do it again, and Dinah knows that even if he himself might have not realized it, he hadn't acted solely on anger.
But also on fear.
And that could be one of the most lethal mixes someone could ever be put through. Fear and anger usually leads to very bad outcomes, especially if there's violence involved.
She can't help but regret she hadn't tried harder to get him to actually open up on their sessions, Batman made the League have at least one session with her per month. But Marvel's never spoken about anything remotely personal or himself for that matter. He usually spoke about others, and if she tried to ask about him, he would switch the subject and redirect the question with such expertise she never even noticed until he was bidding his goodbyes to her as their time came to an end.
And she always fell for that trick. Somehow.
But she also knows that forcing people to talk about their trauma would just make things worse. If the person wasn't ready to talk about it, it could go very wrong very quickly. But someone's been hurt, horrible person as it was, someone was hurt, and she knows that if she doesn't do something, Bruce might not stay put and might possibly kick Marvel out.
Plus, someone like Marvel couldn't afford to be emotionally unstable.
It might sound cruel, but people with powers like them couldn't afford to be unstable, they had to be extra careful and always be aware, or else, others could be hurt. And for what she now knows, Marvel is the last person who should be unstable in any way.
If she has it right, he's lived for longer than possibly Diana herself, and might not even be from this universe. Meaning he's seen and lived through who knows what sorts of things. That if one doesn't add anything regarding what he said about magic, the Rock of Eternity, incursions and nexus events.
Immortal or not, that sounds like far too many responsibilities for just one person.
Yet, she won't bring any of it up right now.
So instead, she releases him, taking a step back, and it seems like the hug helped, because he looks less tense and like he's one wrong move from springing up and punching a hole through the wall. He seems much more relaxed.
Good.
She glances at the unconscious man, he looks sick, or maybe that's just his face. She has no idea. The bird stares at her from where it laid coddled on his shoulder, its beady eyes ominous, almost accessing, ready to attack if provoked.
“Her name's Jessamy, she's a raven from the Dreaming, his realm, she's also Oneiros companion and guardian, as long as you don't touch him or any of his belongings she won't do anything to you.” Marvel says suddenly, as if answering the silent question.
Dinah wants to ask how a raven is a guardian to what the magic users claimed to be a literal concept of the universe, the King of Dreams and Nightmares. The literal Sandman. And yeah, sometimes it feels like the longer she spends around the League the crazier the world gets.
Still.
“Does your friend need anything?” She asks, turning to look at Marvel, he smiles slightly yet genuinely, his first smile in what feels like a long, long time. Seemingly happy to not have to talk about himself anymore.
“No. Although he might need someone asleep to get back to the Dreaming, or he might not. He might be able to just leave with his sand, I don't know.” Oneiros has always taken great joy in not answering the simplest of questions, like how he's been friends with an immortal for centuries and has never bothered to tell the man his name.
For someone as stoic as him, he sure knew how to mess with people.
It sometimes drove Billy up the walls.
“What about food?” Flash asks out of nowhere.
“Our food does nothing for him… But I guess some chocolate might improve his mood.” Thavma knows that might not help much though, Oneiros could be the most depressing living being he's ever come across, and by God could that man be the biggest dramatic diva too. Offended as easily as he could start sulking or flat out being petty.
But he guesses it's fair for him to be a little too emotional at times considering he held the collective consciousness of half the multiverse within him. Billy actually found it outstanding how controlled he could be, Billy didn't think he would be able to be half as controlled as him if he had to deal with all that.
Flash disappears in a blink before reappearing with a box holding all kinds of chocolates from all kinds of brands. He walks over to the bed, setting the box down next to it.
“A little bit of variety has never hurt anyone.” Barry also would really like for the literal King of Dreams to not be in a bad mood if he could help it. Who the hell knows what they might dream about if that was the case. Plus, the size of that sphere compared to how tall this guy was, he had been stuffed in a definitely uncomfortable sphere by some crazy dude for no literal reason other than to be potentially enslaved.
If chocolate could improve this shitty night, good.
“Thank you, I'm sure he will appreciate it.”
“We aren't done talking, we will be coming back to this conversation.” Batman states after a moment before walking away. Billy can't say that's unexpected, he knows things won't be fixed so easily.
But he's glad the League decides to end it here for the time being, he doesn't think Oneiros will be thrilled to have an audience once he wakes up.
Billy can't exactly blame him. Not that he was in danger, but his friend could be a little too prideful at times. Although this would be more dignity related.
He watches the members leave up until it's just Diana, she lingers for a bit, she looks like she wants to say something but ends up leaving too.
He sighs.
“They care about you.” Jessamy says suddenly, he smiles, yet, he can't help the bitterness he feels at it.
“They shouldn't.” Because he knows she's right, and he also knows it shouldn't be like that.
The League has no idea how much he still hides from them. What he's done to innocents, or even to their variants. What the future holds for them and what he will let happen, or what he might one day need to do.
At times like these he couldn't help but remember the Gods' words. The Champion must walk alone, or else, those he cares for will be hurt. He must not get attached, for one day, he might end up having to hurt them, be it directly or indirectly.
Because for a being that watches over the balance, getting attached could be fatal.
But he's never exactly stuck to the rules.
And he doesn't think he will ever do.
Because as life would have it, he could never leave the League, they were his family now.
Even if it means it will add to the pain of losing people he cared about, but it's as Death said, it's not about the end, it's about the start, about the memories, about the beauty of getting to know them and spending time with them.
One day, he will look back at it and be happy that he did give them a chance, that he made a life here.