The palace of the King of All Ghosts was surrounded by acres upon acres of gardens. They were tended to by shades, shadowy not-ghosts bound to the king's will.

The new king's shades were gentle, quiet, unassuming, and faded into the background, unlike what they had been for the last king. Pariah Dark had been anything but gentle, and his shades had reflected that. Even during his golden age, they had been forceful, a projection of his confidence, his power.

Petitioners were received in the gardens, now. Not the throne room. Never the throne room. Never a throne. Those who knew what went into a coronation were not surprised. Others…

He was so different from Pariah. Pariah had not opened his keep to petitioners for years after he was crowned. When he woke it was with fury in his heart, vengeance on his mind, for all that the strain of his coronation kept him from attempting conquest for several long, blessed years.

No, the new king was… soft was not, perhaps, the correct word. Perhaps there were no words that could truly describe him in his entirety. When he saw petitioners, his weakness, his wounds, were clearly on display, something that few rulers would ever allow. The times when he accepted petitioners were short, scattered, his health not robust enough to withstand longer audiences.

Yet even those whose requests were turned away did not dare attack him, did not dare try to threaten him for the sake of their wish.

This was at least partially because of the looming presence of the Master of Time at the king's shoulder, but… not entirely. No. Not entirely.

The new king was young, small, hurt, and, at times, desperate. But there was something about him, something invisible and sharply dangerous. To push him too hard would be to press bare hands against shattered glass. Not done wisely.

Although some would say that petitioning the Ghost King was unwise to begin with.

.

Danny was finding balance.

Somehow. Somehow.

He still ached for sleep, still lacked the energy to stay awake, still felt like he was falling apart, still felt like an open wound, like he was made of salt, like everything he was had been broken, but he was finding balance. Because for the first time since all of this started, he was really helping. Helping someone. Helping a person. People.

People came to ask him things. Came to him, in his lonely castle, in his palace, in his prison. Came to him, cautious but hopeful.

When Danny could help… It felt amazing. Soothing. Like a balm on his soul. When he couldn't… When he wouldn't…

It was a work in progress.

He breathed in, as deeply as his lungs would allow. He could smell the roses. There were a lot of roses in this part of the garden, blue ones that grew from ice.

"I don't understand the gardens," said Danny. He leaned forward, to prod at a small flower that grew near the legs of the bench, but overreached. Dizziness overtook him and he almost tipped over.

Clockwork steadied him. "What don't you understand?"

"Hm?"

"About the gardens?"

Danny blinked, slowly. "Why they're here, I guess? I don't…"

"They make you happy, do they not? They are something you enjoy?"

"I guess," said Danny.

"That is reason enough for them," said Clockwork.

His thumb brushed the side of Danny's neck and Danny flinched away. Immediately, Clockwork dropped his hand and drifted back, away from Danny. Danny longed for the touch and was glad it was gone at the same time. He hunched his shoulders, trying to ignore the contradiction.

He wanted–

He didn't know what he wanted.

"So… stuff will just happen if I want it?"

"That is, perhaps, an oversimplification, but yes. Your thoughts and feelings direct more than the weather." Clockwork flew into Danny's line of sight. "Your personality forms much of the basis for the underlying essence of the Infinite Realms and from that essence comes things like this." He cupped a rose that was as blue as an evening sky, in one hand, turning it towards Danny.

"But flowers aren't really… I don't know. My thing. They're more Sam's thing, if anything." He liked them, and they responded to him, but they didn't make sense for him.

"That they are not your passion does not make them meaningless to you. I cannot say what they mean to you, but perhaps, like many people, you associate them with life."

Danny pursed his lips. "Maybe," he said. He closed his eyes.

"Would you like to try to sleep?" asked Clockwork.

"Not yet," said Danny. He knew he wouldn't be able to, not yet. "Let's… I think there's one more person waiting for today." He nodded. "One more." He could feel the shades bringing them now.

"I am unsure this is someone you will want to see."

"Can't be any worse than any of you," said Danny, feeling snippy at being told what to do, after everything. He leaned back against the bench, resting as much as he was able. If he fell asleep now… it would be good, if he could fall asleep.

He didn't.

The shades were close, now. He opened his eyes to greet whatever guess they'd brought.

He was abruptly not tired at all. Or, at least, the possibility of rest was completely banished from his thoughts.

"You!"

"Goodness," said Spectra. "You say that as if I was the one to betray you and trap you in a thankless job like a slave."

"Go away," hissed Danny, trying to stand.

"Is that any way to treat someone who's trying to help you? Although, I suppose you may not know any better considering how all your attempts at helping have worked out."

"I don't want any help from you."

"Oh, but you need my help, don't you? At least you know that I'm honest with you, dear, unlike–"

Wrath flushed through Danny's body so quickly that it left him blind.

(The Ghost Zone trembled.)

(The older ghosts had known - it had only been a matter of time.)

"Daniel," said Clockwork. "Breathe for me, Daniel."

Clockwork was holding his hands.

"There you are."

"Where," said Danny. "Where did she go?"

Clockwork paused. "I sent her away," he said. "She will not bother you again."

"Why didn't… you do that before?" asked Danny. He was having some trouble breathing.

"I do not wish to interpose myself between you and your choices, Daniel."

"Warn me," said Danny, moving his hand to grip at Clockwork's arm, "next time. More."

"Of course." He shifted to support Danny more. "Would you like to go back to your room?"

Danny felt like crying. "I won't be able to sleep."

"You could still rest. I could read to you."

Danny closed his eyes and slumped forward. "Okay," he said. "Okay."