Roy’s never been much of a believer, but the sheer amount of magic he can feel from this place is insane.

The palace of the Titan of Vigilance is huge. It’s constantly sunrise or sunset when Roy or Wally or Donna or anyone looks out the windows of stained glass. Most of all, though, the most glaring thing?

The palace is untouched by the war.

Every stone, every goblet, every single perfect chalice that makes Roy’s skin itch with an anger he didn’t know he could feel, is completely untouched.

Everything is pristine.

Walking through the castle is somehow comforting and honestly that just serves to make Roy seethe even more, because why is the God of Justice hiding in such a perfect place while the mortal world scrambles for any semblance of normal? Why has the God of Justice abandoned their own kind in favor of some kind of false sense of security?

The rest of the gods, even the Titans, have been trapped in the mortal realm and used as magic batteries to power the dark forces that their little group are up against, and the most Just God of them all has been in this palace, in the space between the sunset and the moon, for all of it.

It’s been centuries since the war began.

“We’re splitting up,” Donna said before Roy was chosen to walk down this hallway for the stupid god, “We can cover more ground if we all cover different halls. If you find them, yell. Wally, you run around and check on everyone.” The amazon had fixed Roy with a sharp look. No-nonsense, for once.

“I’m serious. Yell if you find them— we don’t know what kind of state they’re going to be in.”

Roy didn’t like that plan much, but honestly, there was nothing else he could do, so he kind of just has to stew in a sense of betrayal he didn’t know he even felt.

He opens a door and is immediately hit in the face with a second, beaded door, the jems of literal stardust forming small suns and moons almost getting him in the eye. Roy shoves through them after getting over himself, drawing his bow, and finding himself in what appears to be a bedroom.

There’s a kid looking to be his age sleeping in the canopy bed.

Roy can’t believe his eyes.

This is the God of Justice, the last god not trapped, and they’re sleeping in a bed fit for royalty?!

“What the hell are you doing?!” Roy demands, storming over, uncaring of how he’s talking to a being that could feasibly smite him, “Are you joking?? You’re sleeping right now?!”

The god doesn’t so much as stir.

Roy huffs and pokes them with one of his arrows.

“Hey, wake up! I’m talking to you.”