PROLOGUE

Bruce: Chapter 7

Bruce turned to look back at the mountains as they finally left them to ride the rolling plains on their way to Pentos. The palace of Rha's Al Ghul rested in the heart of the mountains north of the Sea of Sighs. He did not know the name of the mountains or if they even had a name, but he had come to know it as the closest thing to home he has had since leaving Gotham close to a decade ago.

It had already been two weeks since they left the palace but they had barely gotten more than two finger-lengths away from their starting point on their map. Now they must cross the grasslands between the mountains they had just left and Dagger Lake to the Northeast, before crossing The Flatlands on the other side of the large body of water. Rha's told them that they should not run into any Khalazars as most of them were out pillaging the Dothraki Sea by this time of year. If they did run into a Khalazar, Bruce was instructed to give them all the gold he carried (more than a Lannister carried in his pockets Rha's had jested) for safe passage. Bruce and his compatriots could take at least a hundred Dothraki easily, but outrunning them would prove very difficult.

They had near another three weeks of travelling before reaching their destination of Pentos. Luckily four men traveled far more quickly than a few dozen. Rha's had sent one of his personal guard, Warkan, a former Dothraki bloodrider who had the sense of humor and conversation of his horse. The other two had come in Bruce's second year at the palace, brothers Dansir and Rayne. Bruce had trained with both of them extensively and knew how to take each of them down rather swiftly. Rayne was the jester while Dansir was the bragger, Rayne would beat an enemy and humiliate him while Dansir would beat his foe and tell him why he stood no chance to begin with. Rayne was smaller and sleeker but much quicker while Dansir was well-built with the strength of a bear. He was glad to have both of them along for the journey, they proved far more entertaining than Warkan and Bruce could use any distraction he could get.

Bruce had more trouble sleeping on the road then he did in his palace bed, but not for the reasons most men would have. He grappled with trying to accept his master's order of slaying innocent children. Bruce had never met this girl or her brother, or their parents. Mad King Aerys had done many horrible things, killing Ned Stark's brother and father, raped his sister, and killed many, many more. But that did not mean the children had to pay for the sins of the father. According to the master's reports, she was actually rather sweet and timid. Bruce had heard this Viserys on the other hand was an arrogant fool, but that still did not mean he needed to die for foolish, strong headedness. Bruce would have much to think over in the remaining weeks before reaching Pentos, and he hoped that by the time he reached it he would have more clarity on what he must do. His only option was to slay both the young dragons, or not return and fear his master's wrath and army finding him while he slept.

One night while sleeping under the stars on the plains, Bruce could not help but wonder what Alfred was doing. If he was looking up at the same stars, if he was living happily and comfortably in Bruce's absence, or if he was still grieving after all this time, missing every member of the family he had come to not only serve but love. Bruce even wondered what Ser Gordon, the head of the city guard when he left, was doing at this moment. Was he sleeping with his family all warm in their beds, or was he patrolling the streets with his men as the dutiful leader he seemed to be.

After many more nights of restless sleep and confused pondering, they had finally reached Pentos. The city was almost directly across the Narrow Sea from King's Landing, where King Robert doubtlessly sat under some whore last night as opposed to atop his Iron Throne. The free cities were unique in that no man claimed leadership of them, no lords or kings, just men trying to earn a living. Granted some were more honest in their methods than others. This Magister Illyrio that had both the young dragons in his stead was supposedly a bit of both. He had many honest merchants in his employ, but also brought in a great quantity of gold from other areas that Bruce had not bothered to read into. That sort of information was only useful for blackmailing and twisting arms to get what they wanted, but this was not a matter they could pay people off to solve. The deaths had to be swift, in the night, and most of all secret. If the Magistrate of the house had even been privy to it there was nothing but fear to stop him from talking. Even if they silenced him, Illyrio would have doubtlessly told his contacts wherever they lie, spreading the word. Rha's Al Ghul would not have that.

This left Bruce and Warkan to infiltrating the manor as servants, waiting until they could get close to the children at night, and do their evil work. Bruce still could not fully stomach the plan, and now that they were here he had little time left to attempt to. Bruce may not have a choice, and would have to put the girl to his blade with a stomach as unruly as a sea storm.

Once inside the gates of the city, they met with the League of Shadows brother stationed in Pentos, Okorro. Okorro was a big man, but aging as his hair and beard had bright gray streaks among the black. As they rode with him, the large, tanned man filled Bruce and his companions in on his observations.

"This Illyrio, he is a cautious man, he knows his dragons are precious treasures and that any man would be willing to slit their throats without care for the right price. He has tripled the guard of his palace, the girl is kept in the northern hall, the boy prefers the main chamber in the center of the estate. His brashness will cost him dearly my brothers," he said in the dialect of the Free Cities with a smile across his face. Bruce was left to wonder if he was the only one still uncertain if killing children to potentially save thousands was really a more noble cause than killing another man for a crown to rule those thousands.

Bruce: Chapter 8

The day after they arrived Bruce and Warkan were accepted as servants in Illyrio's palace. They started out doing menial tasks such as cutting vegetables or fetching water for the guards, but within three weeks they were moved up to being servants of Illyrio himself. They brought him food, drink, or news of the city, but were not permitted to see the children, until today. They left Okorro's hideout together wearing plain white tunics with golden trim and brown sandals, as was common of servants in Pentos.

They stood in the main courtyard for half an hour before the main doors finally opened and Illyrio led the children in behind him, and behind them followed eight fully armored guards. It would have been easy to take them now, but they were ordered to make the kills in the dead of night and so they waited. Bruce's stomach was in knots, and those knots seemed only to tighten more painfully once he laid eyes on the Targaryen girl. She had long straight hair as white as the snow that fell in the middle of winter in Gotham. She was a small creature, but certainly had a beauty about her that was rarely seen in girls so young. She would grow into a breath-taking woman someday, or would have Bruce corrected himself. Her eyes were the worst part for Bruce to stomach. If Rha's Al Ghul's eyes were soul piercing, her's were soul absorbing. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that Bruce had never seen before, even lighter than Talia's. Bruce was awestruck and frozen staring into her eyes, feeling his soul become undone before her. Illyrio snapped him out of it by calmly saying, "Servants should not meet eyes with those above them."

Bruce quickly apologized and looked down, "I am sorry ser, it will not happen again."

The older Targaryen cut in arrogantly saying, "Good, let us hope it doesn't peasant. I am to be King some day and will not have servants acting as my equals then nor now." Viserys Targaryen had a boyish arrogance in his gait, and a constant smirk upon his face. He held his head high and looked down on everyone around him despite being shorter than Bruce, Illyrio, and most of the men around him. He truly does have the mindset it took to be a king Bruce thought. His hair was as white as his sister's, and he dressed himself in green robes with a green tunic with the three headed dragon of his house on his breast in black.

Illyrio then said, "The white servant from Westoros shall tend to Lady Daenerys today, the other will care to all of my Lord Viserys' whims. Have a good day children I have a meeting that requires my attention."

With that the Magister turned and left as Viserys suddenly commanded, "Come servant, you shall scrub my feet before we go on a tour of the marketplace." Warkan looked quickly at Bruce, with a level of anger and spite that Bruce could tell meant the former Dothraki wanted to do nothing but slit the boy's throat right then and there. Bruce gave a small shake of his head as Warkan grunted angrily and followed the young prince out the gate.

"Look me in the eyes again servant, if you would," he suddenly heard in a soft feminine voice as he watched the prince and his companion leave. Bruce turned to meet the young girl's gaze, and once again stared into those pools of light blue warmth.

"As you wish my Lady," Bruce said trying to sound meek and submissive. They stared at each other for a few minutes, before the young dragon finally said, "Your eyes, they seem to have a lot of turmoil in them." Bruce was shocked that a girl of such a young age could have such insight into his soul, maybe her eyes really did absorb his soul.

"I am unsure of what you mean my Lady," Bruce said once again trying to sound subservient.

"Have you lost your parents too?" she asked simply. Bruce's words seemed to catch in his throat, had this girl really seen his pain through his eyes? Am I this see-through to such small, fragile child? Or perhaps orphans had some form of unspoken bond with each other, he wasn't sure.

Bruce decided he could do nothing but tell the truth, "Yes my lady, many years ago."

"How did they die?" she asked with the innocence of a child in her eyes but the sincerity of an adult in her voice. "They were killed while being robbed," Bruce replied solemnly.

"And you saw it happen?" Bruce nodded, not daring to look away from her gaze. "I did not know my parents truly, my mother died bringing me into this world, my father…was killed a great distance from me I'm told. I do not really remember. What is your name?" she asked genuinely.

Bruce hesitated before replying with, "Thomas my lady, from King's Landing."

"Do you think they see us Thomas? Do you think they watch over us, see us grow, feel the pain we feel?" she asked hoping for a particular answer, but Bruce was not sure what it was.

"No, I'm afraid I don't believe they know our pain my lady, but I like to think they can see us, what we do, who we become," and forgive us if we ever falter on the paths they intended for us, he silently added to himself.

Daenerys seemed pleased with this answer, "Good, I would not want my mother feeling the pain I feel now, she deserves to lay in peace. I'm not sure what kind of lady I am to become though Thomas, or if my mother would be proud of me. Do you think your parents' ghosts are pleased with who you've become?" Her questions, as simple in phrasing as they were, pierced Bruce's core deeply. He felt a nervous shudder down his spine he had not felt since he was first laid before Rha's Al Ghul more than five years ago.

"I am not sure, but I hope they understand that sometimes to help the light, we must live in the dark. I hope they have the strength to forgive me for any wrongs I have done on my path to who I will become," he said, half trying to convince himself.

Daenerys smiled, "I'm sure they will good ser, most parents find a way to forgive I imagine, even if they aren't here to scold us and teach us lessons when we do wrong." This girl is wise beyond her years, would his parents' spirits be able to forgive him for killing this poor girl tonight? He was afraid of the answer. He was afraid of what he must do, this girl did not seem to have an ounce of ill will or evil in her, was death truly the only possible course of action? The girl stirred him from his thoughts, "Would you like to walk by the bay with me? I find it helps soothe me when I have a restless mind."

"Yes my lady, as you wish," he replied and they left the palace tailed by four guards and walked down to the water's edge.

They walked together all afternoon, speaking of the city, and the young princess telling him about the tales of the dragons her ancestor rode, and then Bruce spent hours telling her some of the stories Alfred had told him as a boy. They parted ways at dusk, and Bruce returned to Okorro's hideout to prepare for his long night. The four of them wore black stained chest plates along with gauntlets with angled blades on their sides. They had black hoods with cloth masks allowing only their eyes to be seen. They each carried ten throwing blades, an Eastern straight sword, and some poison darts along with four ceramic spheres full of powder that would explode into a cloud of smoke when they made contact with the ground.

It was near midnight when they finally made their way to the castle, Dansir and Rayne were to watch the escape route; a wall at the back end of the palace that had crumbled slightly making it easy to climb to those skilled enough. Bruce and Warkan had both pickpocketed keys to the Targaryen's rooms, after learning which guards carried spares over their weeks there. They also learned when guards would change shifts and gave a three minute window that would leave the children defenseless. Illyrio clearly had a lot of confidence in the walls of his palace and in his hundred guards posted outside and roaming the halls.

Once they reached the back wall of the palace, they went their separate ways with nothing but a nod of the head. Bruce found it easy to avoid being seen by the occasional guard walking down the corridor. A few of them were drunk from the looks of their stride, perhaps Illyrio should inspect these men he paid good gold to watch his estate.

After half an hour Bruce had reached Daenerys' door, and waited in the shadows until the guard left his post to go find his replacement. Bruce crept over and slowly opened the door using his confiscated bronze key, and slipped inside sword drawn. The girl lay on her bed sleeping, wrapped up in a beautifully sewn quilt of red and gold. He slowly moved over to the girl before hearing a shout from outside the window and quickly turned to listen closer fearing they had been discovered. By the time he turned back from the window to the girl she was awake and sitting fearfully in her bed clutching her blankets so strongly her knuckles were white. Bruce made the error of looking her in the eyes, and the girl quietly said, "You…but why?"

He had been found out now, and he did not know how the girl recognized him so easily by just his eyes. Bruce did not think they had looked into each other's eyes long enough earlier for him to be recognized. He still dared not to remove his mask, perhaps the girl was merely bluffing and did not know for certain. "Thomas…why?" she asked again.

For the second time today, he decided not to lie to those eyes of hers, "Because sometimes we must do dark things to best serve those in the light."

"But whose light?" the girl said with yet more insight that he did not expect.

The question caught Bruce off guard, "I am merely a shadow in the night young dragon, I would not expect you to understand. But know I am sorry."

"As am I…was any of what you told me today truth?"

Bruce hesitated again, before replying, "Yes, my parents' ghosts watch over me, even through the darkness I must trek."

"Why must you live in the darkness though? I'm sure your parents would want you to live in the light. Be a man of honor, not a child-killer," Daenerys said, never looking away from his eyes.

"My path was chosen for me sweet girl, I must follow orders," Bruce replied dutifully, but with his heart and stomach faltering.

"Then do as you must, but doing it under someone else's command makes you no better than the men who rebelled against my family in the seven kingdoms. They rose up under the Usurper's orders and were left with a shattered and broken land, and after this night, you will only be left with broken honor and a shattered life," she said, her words cutting deeper than any sword Bruce had ever been wounded by. Her views of Westoros were clearly but deservedly biased, but her message still rung true.

"I am sorry my Lady…you…are right. I could never come to terms with this mission, I thought being here in the moment might have given me the steel stomach needed to complete it, but now I see maybe it is not a feeling I can overcome. It's one I must use as a rule, to never kill…" Bruce said realizing all of this himself.

"You are forgiven ser, but I would like to know your true name, not to tell anyone, but so that I can pray to the gods for your parents to know what kind of man their son had become," she said in a sincere voice that Bruce was not accustomed to with most he met in life.

"My name is Bruce Wayne, son of Thomas and Martha Wayne of Gotham City of the seven kingdoms. I serve no king, I am no lord, and I am purposeless, and honor-less as well it seems..." he told the girl listening with rapt attention.

"You are wrong Bruce Wayne, your honor and purpose are intact, just shrouded in the cape of darkness that you've wrapped yourself in," the young dragon said with Bruce staring at her wide-eyed. He was interrupted by shouts from outside the door. "My lady! Are you alright? There has been a breach in the palace walls!" some guard shouted fumbling with the door handle. Bruce was unsure if Warkan had succeeded in his mission or not, but Bruce could not carry out his.

Guards burst through the door, as Bruce looked to the girl for one last time quietly saying, "Thank you my lady, know if you ever come to Westoros, the shadow of the bat will look over you." He threw one of his smoke bombs to the ground and immediately was hidden in a cloud of thick, gray smoke. By the time the guards had sifted through the smoke, Bruce had slipped out the window and down onto the grass.

"Thank you, shadow of the night…my dark knight…" Daenerys quietly whispered to herself.

Bruce sprinted across the lawn of the Palace, not running into any opposition but three guards which he quickly subdued. He climbed up the faulty wall and dropped to the other side and into the middle of a sword fight. Rayne and Dansir were in the midst of fending off a dozen guards armed with spears and swords. "Our brother failed, the prince still lives!" Rayne shouted as he parried one of the guards and drove his sword through the man's neck.

"We must leave as quickly as possible," Bruce stated as he began fighting their way through the guards and disappeared in another cloud of smoke.

They found their horses and mounted them, immediately setting them to a sprint as they fled the city before the guards could stop them. Archers began to dot the rooftops and let arrows fly down upon them, missing due to the three escapers' speed. As they neared the gate, a chance arrow speared Dansir through the throat, another hitting his horse in the flank. The two fell together in a mess of tangled horse and human flesh as Dansir's dead body was crushed by the horse's body falling on top of it. Rayne shouted in pain for losing his brother in both arms and blood, but they both continued to press on into the night and beyond the city walls.

They rode continuously for close to two days, never stopping for more than a few minutes if they stopped at all. Bruce knew it would be a long and difficult ride back. He was not sure which he feared more, the ride back, being caught by the determined city guard, or confronting his master when he returned. After thinking that to himself, Bruce knew without question which he was most afraid of.

Bruce: Chapter 9

They had made it as far as Dagger Lake before they had to stop due to Rayne's injury. He had been pierced through the thigh by an arrow when passing through the city gates. At first it was manageable; they treated the wound, wrapped it, and continued on. But now the wound had festered, and the dry fields they had crossed did not have the herbs necessary to make the right mixture to help the pain. Rayne's leg reeked of death and rotting flesh, he could barely sit his horse by the time they stopped, and his eyes fluttered under his half-open eye lids. As Bruce laid his companion down for what he knew was the final time, Rayne grabbed the neck of his tunic with unexpected strength and pulled Bruce close.

"I am sorry for failing you dear brother, and for failing your brother as well," Bruce said solemnly, finding it hard to stare into the dying man's eyes.

"It is not your fault Shadow…Bruce, even I could not stomach the thought of killing a child, but you were strong enough to go against our master's orders. You are a shepherd among sheep brother, and fear not for my blood brother…huh…I shall be joining him soon," Rayne said gasping for breath.

"But that is not what I must tell you. At the palace, before we were dispatched, I overheard the master speaking with his right hand, Ubu, about you, ugh…" Bruce could see he was on his last legs in this life, but the dying man's words slightly alarmed him. "Ubu asked him whether the master planned on telling you 'the truth' before you succeeded him as leader of the League of Shadows. The master said he did not think you could handle the truth of it, that history is only history when it is left behind us. That an orphaned boy with parents killed by thieves would become an angry storm of vengeance if he learned he was an orphaned boy of parents killed by assassins…cough, ugh, my time is nearing brother. I know not of what his words meant, but I thought you should know before I pass on to the next world and I become of no use to anyone," he said while his words grew quieter.

"Rha's…he…no, that cannot be…" Bruce said suddenly as confused and hurt as he had been when he first watched his parents struck down.

"I am sorry brother, I did not mean to make you question your faith or path in life, merely shed light on the darkness, but I must go now…cough, my brother waits for me, I shall see you again Shadow, but not yet…not…yet…" and with that Rayne's hand fell from Bruce's collar, as he passed on to the next life.

Bruce was confused, hurt, scared, had his whole life, all of this training been based off a manipulative lie from the start? Bruce was no longer afraid of returning to his master a failure, but angry. He would return as the Shadow that men would learn to fear, that his master would learn to fear, that would avenge his parents' memories and make him a symbol for something greater, as a wise man once told me.

The return home went by far quicker, hours blurred to days, which melded together into weeks. Before Bruce knew it, he was walking up the front steps of the palace of his master as the sun set behind the palace. Some guards tried stopping him on his warpath to his master's study, but Bruce quickly and violently disarmed them. He heard three shoulders pop from their sockets, and two more bones break in two of their legs. He stormed into his master's private study, finding Rha's Al Ghul sitting in a chair as decorated as a throne facing the door, almost as if he had been expecting Bruce.

"How dare you show your face to me in such a fashion after failing me so greatly. It is only out of my respect for you Shadow that I did not kill you before you could so much as dismount your horse…" the master growled before Bruce cut in.

"Did you have my parents killed?" Bruce said determinedly and coldly. Rha's showed an emotion that Bruce had never seen on his face in all his years here, surprise.

"What delusional nonsense do you speak of Shadow? Your parents died many years ago, before I took you in and even more before you left Westoros," Rha's retorted, but his guilt was written all over his face. Bruce could see a liar no matter how well practiced with a great amount of ease, and the unexpectedness of the question had shaken Rha's usually apathetic face and revealed the emotion that lay beneath. Rha's was guilty; Bruce had no doubt in his mind now.

"If you lie to me again Rha's, I will kill you where you sit," Bruce said with such a level of angry sincerity that it made Rha's eyes open wider if only for an instant.

"Now you listen here boy…" Rha's began to threaten before Bruce threw a knife that wedged itself into the master's throne so closely to the old warrior's head that it shaved some ends of his hair off. "You make it sound as if it would be so easy to kill me Shadow…" Rha's said menacingly, finally forgoing his act of innocence.

"So you admit you did it finally?" Bruce returned just as threateningly.

"They were interfering with our work. Their generosity and unwillingness to give up on Gotham was an idealistic fool's errand, and was something that would make our duty harder down the line. Like with the young Targaryen children, sometimes people need to be dealt with before they can cause too many problems," Rha's said with a cold voice Bruce had never heard from him.

"A problem for who I wonder?" Bruce said drawing his sword and then continuing, "What is this plan Rha's?"

"Ah, you do not get those answers Shadow, now all you've earned is an early grave alongside your parents. And when Gotham, King's Landing, and the rest of those cities burn, I will look down upon your grave and smile. I respect your skills Shadow, but you have become far too problematic to be allowed to live," Rha's said rising from his chair and letting his green cloak fall to the ground around him.

Bruce retorted with a wry smirk, "You make it sound as if it would be so easy to kill me Rha's."

The old man drew his sword, a scimitar with a gold hilt encrusted with a snarling wolf's head forged from jade, "You will die for this insolence boy, I have fought and killed far better warriors over the course of my life than you, compared to them you are but a..."

Bruce cut him off with the same wry smile but an increasingly hateful look in his eyes, "a shadow Rha's? Well that is to my benefit then, for shadows strike in the night, without warning, and without mercy!" Bruce shouted as he charged Rha's sword in hand and the sound of steel on steel rung through the room.

They were an even match, each one blocking and parrying, dodging and evading, just as quick as the other. Bruce had never seen the old lord fight with such ferocity and speed. Their clothes were cut, their skin was sliced and bled, but neither backed down. Bruce was cut across the cheek by one of Rha's inward strikes, but within a few seconds Bruce was parrying and shallowly cut Rha's across his thigh. Other men came, swords at the ready, but Rha's shouted at all of them to stand down. The Shadow was his to silence.

Bruce had never fought with such determination; he finally had found his purpose for fighting. He did not fully know Rha's' plan, or what he intended for his city and the others of Westoros, but he could not let this evil man lead his army across the Narrow Sea. But how could he have stopped a whole league of men from completing Rha's' dark task, even if Bruce managed to defeat him. This was a thought that Rha's shared, as he asked after Bruce gave him another shallow cut across his chest, "So tell me Shadow, if you should defeat me, how would you stop my League of Shadows? You surely cannot help to best all one thousand of them with just your sword?" Rha's had a smile of both contempt and pride on his face, thinking he had outsmarted Bruce.

Bruce smiled in return, and said calmly, "Your title for me seems to be more and more fitting with each passing day Rha's. Luckily my mind was not as far gone from rage as a lesser man's would have been. I bought some shells of exploding wildfire off some black market merchants in Ar Noy."

Rha's expression turned ghostly, his eyes filling with a hatred that Bruce's did not even possess. "Shadow you…" Rha's could not finish his sentence, as the jars of wildfire that Bruce had hidden went off in unison.

Last night, Bruce had slipped in with the shells and hid them beneath the barracks and in three different areas under the Palace. They were small canisters, no larger than a loaf of bread, and were easy to carry. Bruce had bought five hundred of them with the gold Rha's had sent him out with. It took many trips to hide them all properly, but the late night guards and patrollers were inattentive fools that Bruce easily slipped by without detection, he was the Shadow after all. No men ever went down to the underground levels of the structures unless they were requested to fetch something which was a rare occurrence.

An hour ago Bruce had slipped in again to lay the paths of powder for the fires to follow, a slow burning mixture that was measured out perfectly to run out in about an hour. Bruce had then disappeared back to his camp, to return less than a few minutes later in an angry, brazen show to make Rha's underestimate him, mistaking him for a fool blinded by rage.

Bruce's plan had clearly worked perfectly judging by the completely awe-struck expression on his former master's face. In the distance Bruce and those surrounding him in the room could hear the explosions and screams coming from the barracks lying next to the palace. Within seconds, the room began to shake as the Wildfire in the underground level followed suit. Bruce knew the fire would consume the whole structure, and unfortunately burn any of his master's underlings who could not escape. Bruce knew this meant taking the lives of countless men, but Bruce could not let this evil spread. This was the time that Rha's had spoken of, when there was no other option but death.

He had to thank Daenerys Targaryen for opening his eyes to this revelation. Killing a child, while carrying the slight chance of maybe saving countless lives someday was not a situation where there was no other paths to take. Rha's however, Bruce could see it in his eyes that he intended to reduce the world to ashes if that was what the demon thought was best for the world. Bruce was aware of and accepted the hypocrisy of this, but like his father he decided to live with his hypocrisy. He would rather live the rest of his life with this burden weighing on his conscience than risk letting the world suffer at the hands of this crazed tyrant hidden in the shadows.

Rha's charged at Bruce in an enraged fury of flashing steel as Bruce deflected as best he could. Rha's changed his strategy in an instant as he ducked inside Bruce's defenses and tackled him through the window and out into the night. The study was only on the second story but the impact still hurt Bruce's back as they crashed into the large marble pool below. Bruce struggled for air as he frantically swam to the water's surface, feeling small bits of glass tear and pierce the muscles in his back and shoulders as he struggled. He finally broke the surface of the water, gasping for air as he struggled his way to the side of the pool. As he pulled himself up the marble steps he knew he could not lay and rest as much as his body ached, he needed to stand and finish his mission.

Bruce struggled to his feet, and turned to see the palace up in flames, green fire dancing outside almost every window. He could feel the heat from the never-ending wildfire even thirty feet from the building. He saw a few men diving or stumbling out of the windows engulfed in flames, Bruce's soul would be heavy with each of them for the rest of his life.

"Shadow! It is time for your soul to burn as my home does!" Rha's shouted in an enraged voice from the other side of the pool. Bruce suddenly realized he had left his sword in the water, now unarmed against an opponent angrily stepping closer. Bruce had only one course of action, and put all of his energy into one final charge on Rha's. Rha's waited until the last moment to jab the point of his blade forward, just as Bruce anticipated he would do. Bruce waited until a moment after the muscles in Rha's' arms tensed to strike forward, to begin dodging to the right. As his former master's arm extended, Bruce wrapped his hands around his foe's wrist and forearm. Bruce disarmed him and before Rha's could move to try a second attack, Bruce planted the point of the blade in the center of the demon's chest.

Rha's collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and cursing Bruce, "We were supposed to be better men Bruce…above the titles and glory. We were going to liberate this world together! And now you have spit in my face, destroyed my home, and killed me. It seems you are finally prepared to do what is necessary." Bruce stood over him, choosing his words carefully, "Killing my parents, killing Daenerys Targaryen, who are we to choose who lives and who dies and what is best for the world?"

"Ha…but is that not what you are doing right now Shadow? You are deciding this world is better off without me or my League, and have taken it upon yourself to see your sentence carried out…" Rha's' eyes were shuttering slightly and his voice quieted.

"I know I am living with a hypocrisy, but I would rather live the rest of my days with this guilt on my conscience than watch you burn the world to nothingness in your quest to perfect the world in your eyes," Bruce replied calmly.

"Ha ha...very well Shadow, then I hope you enjoy the fire, for no matter if I am here to watch it or not, the fire will rise. This world will burn, whether by the flame of a dragon, the hands of men, or if the dreaded Others return for the endless winter. Mankind had set its course Bruce, I needed to only direct the flames…cough, the words of my house Bruce are these. 'For man to become immortal, one must die while still alive, ha…ha ha…" and with those final words Rha's died with a small smile on his face, as if he had been the one that won this night.

Bruce suddenly felt incredibly heavy, not only his body from the wounds he sustained in the fight, but his soul seemed to become more burdened from the souls he had taken tonight. His soul only seemed to get heavier when he heard a familiar voice from behind him, "Beloved…how could you?"

Bruce turned to face Talia, tears in her eyes and a dagger clenched in her fist. "I am sorry Talia, but there was no other way…he was going to kill countless dozens of thousands of people and maybe more! I could not let a demon such as him live."

"Beloved, I am going to let you leave this place alive only for the love we shared. Do not return to this place, or you will be slain where you stand. The demon's head will not die this day, we will rise again," she said with a coldness that mirrored her father's.

"I know Talia…and I will be there to stop you when you do…" and with that Bruce turned and limped away.

Talia looked up to her father's burning palace, consumed by the jade demon of the cursed pyromancer's fire. Then to the barracks which was even more engulfed in the green flames. Then she turned out to the lake, which reflected a light green as if the moon itself were covered in the dancing flames of the wildfire. Talia then returned her head back to her Beloved as he slowly and painfully staggered away from her. Her eyes continued to run with tears as she placed a hand on her stomach.

She was going to tell him today when she heard he had returned, but it had been too late. She continued to caress her belly while quietly saying, "It will be alright my son, you will grow to have your grandfather's cunning and your father's strength. You will do great things, my brave little Damian…"

Bruce: Chapter 10

"Bruce, Bruce it's time to wake up. Oh come now you silly boy, are you my son or a bear hibernating for the winter?" Bruce's eye lids lifted as he stared straight up at the ceiling. He hardly remembered his mother's voice anymore, or what his father smelled like, but in his dreams it would all come back to him in an instant as if they had never left. Today is the day, Bruce reminded himself. It had already been near three years since he left the palace of Rha's Al Ghul burning into the night and the woman he had come to love behind him.

He had pushed his body to such extremes fighting the pain that he barely made it to the city of Mantarys at the base of the river flowing from the mountains. He collapsed just outside the city gates and was found and taken in by a local mystic healer. Bruce had sustained many shallow cuts and bruises, but the glass shards in his back and a deep cut across his chest had grown even more perilous to his life. After a fortnight of fevered sleep, Bruce finally stirred from his haunted dreams. He spent the next two months recovering and planning his next steps.

Bruce rode east to Tolos, and then sailed across Slaver's Bay to Astapor. The city was a maze of red brick and dust clouds Bruce remembered. He had taken enough gold from the palace to travel comfortably for a decade, and once he left Astapor he had a long ride ahead of him. In his long nights of reading through the scrolls and tombs in his former master's library, he had come upon a map that piqued Bruce's interest immensely. Hidden in the mountains beyond the Red Waste lay a hidden palace similar to Rha's' where fabled dark warlocks resided. These mystics that other men feared Bruce knew to be nothing but performers with tricks that spurred just enough uncertainty and fear in the city folk to never stray into the wilderness looking for them. The scroll said they had the ability to disguise themselves so well that they became different people. That they could mimic the dialects and accents of other lands better than the most practiced mummer, and that they knew how to speak as smoothly as water to get what they desired. So well in fact that it was storied they could even talk a Dothraki Khal down from charging into battle. Bruce knew he needed to learn these skills, when he returned to Gotham deception would be his greatest ally.

When Bruce had finally arrived at this palace within the mountains, the Dark Whispers as they took to calling themselves would not accept Bruce. It was only after Bruce explained his story to their leader, in any language the man asked, was he impressed enough to agree to take Bruce under his wing. He stayed there for a year, learning the mannerisms and subtle details of how to look and sound like a different person from across the world. These tools could prove to be more valuable than most of the other skills he had learned since leaving Gotham.

If he were to fight the darkness and corruption of Gotham, he must remain a shadow himself. No one could know that their residing lord, Bruce Wayne, was striking out in the night silently and decisively to fight the crime and corruption of the city. His war was not a war that a King's Hand would fight if he were trying to lessen crime in King's Landing. No, a King's Hand would just pay for more guards, or better armor. This war was more personal to Bruce, so he would deal with it with the same level of intimacy. He cared not for lords fighting each other for land or a crown, he cared to stop the crime of his city. As his father had tried to do with gold and kindness, Bruce would do with cunning as sharp as the edge of a Valyrian blade, and a cloud of darkness that would make even the powerful Tywin Lannister fear challenging him.

He would soon discover how difficult this war would prove, as he left the Palace of Whispers to return West for the final time. He traveled for close to two months until he finally reached the city of Volantis on the other half of the continent. During his time standing in on Rha's councils with his assassin leaders, Bruce overheard a name mentioned multiple times. The name, Bruce learned, belonged to a blacksmith from Volantis that secretly made all of Rha's and his leaders' armoring and weapons with a masterful touch. His shop was located right on the waterfront, with a hidden underground layer where he kept his workings for the League of Shadows out of sight.

As Bruce approached the smith's shop he saw no one but an aging man of darker skin color standing next to the fire. The man had at least half a century in years on this earth, with his black hair now mostly light grey, the thinly trimmed mustache on his upper lip remained a darker shade however. His arms looked strong enough, but he certainly did not appear to have the well-muscled build of most blacksmiths. Bruce came to the obvious conclusion that this was a slave the smith had bought from one of the slave auctions along Slaver's Bay.

"Uh excuse me ser, is the master smith in?" Bruce asked pleasantly.

"You're looking at him sonny, what can I do ya for?" the black man replied with a sincere smile but eyes that seemed to be detailing Bruce's character as quickly as Bruce's were returning the favor.

"Oh my apologies, I just…" Bruce could not finish as the smith began laughing. "Ha Ha! Don't worry about it son, you aren't the first man to assume I'm a slave and you won't be the last. Nope, been a free man for close to twenty years now after serving twenty in some king's fleet for some war that the gods only know the point of," the dark skinned man said with a smile. When he smiled Bruce noticed the darker freckles upon his cheeks, and a glean of silent pride in the corners of his mouth. "Name's Lucius, Lucius Fox ser, how can I be of service?"

"How good of a smith can you be if you're arms are smaller than tree trunks and your chest not as broad as a bull's?" Bruce jested.

Lucius laughed again, "Ah that's funny ser, but most people overlook that part of my work. They think that the bigger a man is, the better his steel results. The real secret comes with wisdom sonny. I might not be as strong as I was years ago, but I sure as hell know how to make my steel come out of that hearth singing now. That's something that these young bulls you're speaking of sorely lack." With that Bruce was convinced, he liked this curious stranger.

That night Bruce told Lucius of all that transpired at the palace, to which Lucius replied with nothing but a laugh followed by, "never did care for that old goat, only ever saw him twice; normally he'd just send a lackey to get his armors or swords. Not that I complained, he gave me thrice as much gold than the work was worth, a smith's dream." As they talked Bruce learned that this odd blacksmith not only was good with a hammer, but was well practiced in the studies of cartography, healing, herbs and poisons, even alchemy. Bruce told the man of his history, and his plan and purpose once he felt he could trust this Lucius Fox. He offered the man the title of Maester or master at arms or whatever title he wanted in hopes of persuading him to return to Gotham with him. Bruce had great need of a man who had as much talent as he did wit and intellect.

Lucius replied to Bruce's offer with a smile, "Head over there and get outta this heat with a shiny new title, or stay here but without my best source of gold since you're telling me you shoved a sword in his heart, I think my hands are tied on this one Bruce."

They had left the city together a week after that, riding for Pentos to the northwest across the Flatlands. It would be another three weeks before they reached the city. Bruce had barely shaved since he left the Palace of Whispers, so he knew no one would confuse this bearded, long haired, weary traveler for the cleanly shaven servant-turned assassin from his last visit to the city. They stayed there another two months securing a ship, crew, and supplies to sail for Westoros, and today was the day his patience had been tested for. After fourteen long years had passed, it was finally time to return home to Gotham.

It was Bruce's twenty third name day today, he had nearly forgotten. As he boarded the ship and watched the deckhands scatter about, he remembered the last time he boarded a ship on the Narrow Sea, a month after his ninth name day. Alfred had ridden to King's Landing to see him off. Bruce was to be the squire of a traveling knight, Ser Valley Bruce remembered. Not that it mattered, he thought, I slipped out from under his gaze within two months of arriving. He wondered if Alfred had gotten the news and thought him dead. Bruce did not want Alfred mourning another loss of the Wayne family but he had no way to contact his faithful servant. I am sorry old friend, I will make amends for any grieving you've done when I return…if you still wait for me.

Bruce remembered the look on Alfred's face as he prepared to board the ship all those years ago. "Now Ser Valley is a dutiful and righteous knight Master Wayne, you would do good to learn from his ways. Always remember the manners your mother taught you, and to keep a straight back and not to slouch as your father always reminded you. Don't speak out of turn, and always pay your debts as those arrogant Lannisters say," Alfred said to him as he kneeled down to fix the collar of the boy's overcoat. "Remember your parents will always love you dear boy, as will I," Alfred took Bruce into his arms and hugged him like his father use to.

As Alfred pulled back tears had formed in the corner of his eyes, "Oh I'm sorry Master Wayne, must be this nasty cold of winter biting at my eyes." He took the hanker-chief that was always present in his breast pocket out and dabbed at his dark blue eyes.

As Bruce watched Alfred slowly drift into the fog of the early morning and out of sight, the sadness overcame him and the dam of tears burst forth. Even now, remembering that morning from years ago Bruce's eyes still pooled at the corners with tears. As Lucius joined him at the bow of the ship, Bruce thought to himself, I'm on my way old friend, and am returning with much more than when I left.