Alfred: Chapter 5
The boy looked beyond terrified, as if he would never be happy again. It was not the first time the Dornishman had seen this look chiseled in a boy's face. Although I do hope it is the last.
Bruce had instructed him to find the ring leader of the circus and ask what was to become of the boy. If Alfred disliked the man's plan, he would take the young Grayson back to Wayne Castle with him. The task was impossible however, as frightened, fleeing city folk pushed past him in waves trying to leave the sorrowful scene.
As Alfred fought his way against the stream of people back up the hill, he eventually arrived back at the entrance of the colossal tent. When he walked inside he found it mostly barren, save for a ring of circus folk crowded around the horrible scene in the center of the arena. Alfred took a deep breath to steady his nerves before continuing on. Only another hour Pennyworth, then you can curl up in front of the fire and read tales with wonderful endings as you slowly descend into sleep.
He walked slowly but determinedly over to where the crowd had gathered. As he pushed past the strong men, slender jugglers and scarred beast tamers he found the boy he was looking for at the crowd's center. He was laid out over his father's body, an outstretched hand holding his mother's hand. Tears flowed from his eyes and muffled sobs of grief and agony escaped his throat as he buried his head into his father's chest.
Alfred remembered when he had come upon this same scene fifteen years ago. It was raining then, and Young Master Bruce was kneeling on the ground before his parents' bodies, head turned down to the ground. He wasn't crying though, Ser James Gordon said the boy had not cried since he had first came upon the scene. Alfred turned his gaze to Bruce as Gordon spoke, only being able to focus on the boy's sunken shoulders and head. He looked more defeated than any of the lords that had to bend at the knee to Aegon and his dragons. Alfred went over to him, solemnly saying, "come Master Bruce, there is nothing more we can do here."
The boy did not look up from his parents, but complied and slowly stood. Alfred guided him home to Wayne Castle. As Alfred looked up at the keep's walls and towers, it looked all the darker of a place for a young boy to grow up in. When they had passed through the main doors, Alfred led Bruce back to the young master's room. As Alfred took off his and the boy's overcoats, Bruce's eyes never left the fire in the hearth. His eyes stared unmoving, watching the flames dance about on the logs. Alfred sat down, watching the young boy stand there determinedly looking into the fire.
"Master Bruce, you can't bring them back…" was all he could manage to say.
"No I can't Alfred…but it's my fault they're dead…"
Alfred stood from his chair and walked over to the boy's side, as he knelt down he turned Bruce to face him. "No, no my dear boy, it was nothing you did."
Bruce's eyes began to tear up, "If I didn't get scared, we never would have left our seats. We'd still be watching the play, and they…they'd still…" The walls finally came crashing down in a flood of tears and wailing as the young master finally let himself accept his loss. Alfred quickly hugged the boy, locking his arms around him in an embrace he would not even let the Others take him from.
"It is going to be alright Master Bruce…I don't know how yet, but I assure you it will be," he caringly told the young lord crying in his arms.
Bruce cried for only a few minutes before he sniffled back his last tear and pulled back from his loving servant. "I know Alfred, because I am going to change this," he said surprisingly willfully and definitively.
Alfred looked puzzled, "But how Master Bruce…? You can't bring them back, nothing you do can change the past my dear boy."
"I know Alfred, I am going to change the future, of me and this city. I don't know how yet, but I know that is what my destiny in life is."
That conversation felt like a lifetime ago to Alfred, and yet here again he must face another boy losing his parents before their time. I don't know how many times I can watch or even stomach this in my lifetime.
He slowly approached the Graysons, two lying dead, the sole survivor of their family spread on top of them. He touched the boy's shoulder as he knelt down, the young boy's body jolted at the unexpected physical contact. He looked up at the Dornishman, the orphan's teary eyes locking with his. "Come child, there is nothing more you can do here."
Dick looked back to his parents' bodies before returning his gaze to Alfred and slowly nodding. He took Alfred's hand and let him help bring him to his feet, and leaned against Alfred's waist as they departed the crowd. The onlookers silently parted, creating a pathway for the two of them. Ring leader Haley stood at the end of the row of people waiting for them.
"What do you plan to do with the boy?" Alfred asked him when they had passed by the rest of the circus folk.
"I…I don't know in truth. We can bring him with us, we might be able to find more trapeze swingers when he head further south, but for now, I don't know…" the short, older man replied.
"Then he shall stay in the keep of Lord Wayne as his esteemed guest and perhaps ward at some future date. I do not think a young boy traveling around from city to city after suffering something so painful is what is best for him," Alfred said, not making it sound like a question.
"I uh…very well ser, is that what you want Dick?" Haley said slowly to the boy.
Dick did not look away from the ground, just gave a slow nod. Alfred figured the boy would agree to anything just to get away from this place and the eyes stabbing into his back from his circus family.
"Come my boy, let us go," Alfred said leading him out the rear entrance to the tent. He knew he would undoubtedly run into the city guard were he to go the other way and thought the young Grayson could use a reprieve before being subjugated to their questioning.
"To where…?" Dick asked after a few minutes silence.
Alfred looked down to him with a tender smile, "Home."
James: Chapter 4
"Well where did the damn servant take him to? Back to Wayne Castle?!" Gordon shouted at one of his men.
"Y-yes Ser, Haley said that Lord Wayne seems to be planning to take the boy in as his ward rather than let him continue traveling alone," the man said fearfully.
I work with cowards, afraid of not only me but a rumored shadow in the night as well, ugh the joys of wearing this badge. Gordon glanced quickly at the silver badge of leader of the City Watch on his right breast, and then to his family's sigil, the pointing hunting hound on his left. Gods give me strength.
He had been on the Wayne Castle walls preparing his men for the feast when he was told of the Graysons' deaths. He left half the men that were stationed on the wall but took the other hundred back with him and left them scattered along their path to keep any panicking under control. When he had finally gotten to the top of the hill, Lord Wayne's head servant had taken the boy with him back to the stronghold of his castle.
There were no real questions to ask the boy, not that he would be able to respond anyways. James remembered the way a young Bruce Wayne could only stare at him wordlessly, as if James wasn't even there in front of him. Why does this city have so many damn parents leaving behind scared, lonely orphans? He knew the city was cruel and unforgiving, but even these odds seemed to be unjustly malicious.
He knew the deaths appeared as just plain accidents. Ropes did snap sometimes after all, but something did not feel right in James' gut. Surely they would have checked for weak rope, and replaced it should they find it. The Graysons had done this performance countless times before, but how did they fail this time? In any other city, Casterly Rock, Highgarden, this occurrence would have lived and died as an accident. In Gotham though, there is no such commodity as an accident.
A shout woke James from his inner ponderings, "Ser! We found someone trying to sneak into the tent from the rear!" James turned to face the guard, "Take me to him."
The man wore a dark, black overcoat with black gloves and dark, muddied trousers. His face was long and gaunt, and his eyes seemed sunken back into his head. He looked terrified. Good, that will make this easier.
"So tell me ser, what are you doing sneaking into my restricted area?" He asked the younger man lightly.
"I uh, left my pouch of coins in the stands when I rushed from the arena after the Graysons fell Ser. Terrible, terrible luck it was," he said, the black of his eyes growing in panic.
"Aye, and when did they fall ser?" James asked.
"I, uh, they fell about half an hour past Ser. Maybe an hour," he replied. It did not give James much verbally. Everyone in the city most likely knew what had happened at this point, just from observing the rush of people back down the hill. The man blinking rapidly and sweating as if he were tied to the sun however, that told James something.
"And where were you sitting exactly," James was close to cornering him now.
"In the grandstands, with the rest of the city folk Ser."
"Yes, but where? Next to who?" He was on the verge of breaking, James could see it in his eyes.
"I uhh was next to the baker and that Lady Florence and uhh was in the right most corner of the stands Ser!" The man's voice was cracking consistently now.
"How did you kill them? Did you cut the line? Who did it? Was it you?!" James suddenly shouted at the man. Even the two guards holding him shuddered, but the black coated stranger looked as if he had nearly pissed himself.
"It wasn' me! I was only supposed to get the knife back! We couldn' risk anyone findin' it! He cut the line earlier this afternoon, before anyone would even notice! I swear I didn' do it on the Seven or the old gods I did not do it!" The man broke down into tears.
Gordon leaned into the man until his mouth was less than an inch from the criminal's ear. "Give me a name, or I promise you…I'll throw you into the darkest cell I have in my jails." He whispered with such a threatening tone he was pretty sure the man did piss himself this time.
"T-tony Zucco Ser, he's the one in charge and the one that cut the lines so they'd break with enough weight…"
James stepped back, "Thank you son. Men, take him away. Lock him up until I know what to do with him." As his men dragged the stranger away screaming, he heard a soft thud behind him. Before he turned, he looked up to the bright, full moon and stars, "I was wondering when you would come to visit me. I'm guessing you have the knife too eh?"
He heard a reply from somewhere behind him in the shadows, "Yes, but I need that name he just gave to you."
James swallowed slowly, and turned around. Before him was a man who he had still somewhere deep-inside believed was just a rumor. Before him, was the Batman.
Richard: Chapter 6
The walk from the circus tent to Wayne Castle was the longest walk of Richard Grayson's life. Lord Wayne's servant Alfred at his side made him feel less alone in this world to some degree, but was nowhere near enough to warm the loneliness in his heart. His parents were dead, and he was now an orphan.
The castle was tall, not as high as the circus tent reached, but still impressively high. There were towers and pointed roofs, the castle wall reached at least thirty feet into the air, but to Dick it just looked foreboding. Dick could finally see the shroud of gloom his father had told him about, and it hung over this castle.
He was not sure what he wanted to do more at this point, leave this city with the circus to never set eyes on it again, or stay in this castle, curled up by the fire crying every night. It was one of the few thoughts he could pass through his head without risking breaking down. Just wait until you get inside the castle, then you can lay by the fire and cry until you flood the dreary place. The thought gave Dick the strength to make it past the castle walls and main doors, and up into some guest room Alfred led him to.
He wanted nothing but to be alone, but the servant would not leave. When the servant finally did leave after helping Dick settle in he was relieved. Now he could cry without anyone seeing him be weak and scared. But within a minute he heard a knock at the door, Dick barely had the chance to tear up. The door opened, and Alfred poked his head back in.
He walked into the room in a silk shirt and matching leggings with a book in his hand. He settled himself down in the chair beside the fire. Dick was laying on the bed provided for him, a graciously large bed even for a guest. It had dark blue silk sheets and pillows, with golden trim borders. He was about to cry into the pillows until morning came, but now he felt foolish to in front of the old man.
"You can cry if you want to young Ser, I am not here to judge. You would not be the first young boy I've watched cry over lost loved ones, but I swear to the Seven I hope you are the last," the servant said, not looking up from his book. Dick crawled out of bed and over near the fire. "Why don't you change into those silk dressings over on the bedside table my boy?"
Dick walked back to the table, inspecting the black, silk bed-dressings folded and placed on the table. He slowly changed into them, the feeling of silk felt smooth on his skin. He slowly trudged back to the chair pulled up across from Alfred beside the fire, and slid into it.
"There we are young ser, now I will tell you what I want to do more than anything else right now. I want to sit here and read my book, like I do and have done every night since before Master Bruce lost his parents. Do you know why lad?" he asked looking up at the boy.
"No ser…" he managed to say albeit it quietly.
"Ah good you have found your voice, but I read young Master Richard because whether I have had a great day or a terrible, strenuous one, reading gives me a sense of normalcy. All of these years I served the Waynes, the years I was alone in this gloomy castle, and even now with my Master returned, reading gives me something constant to do before bed. Master Bruce never found a sense of normalcy after he lost his parents, so he resulted to leaving for fourteen years. Do you want to do that Master Richard? Travel the world in solitude never letting go of your past, or would you rather look towards your future?" Dick thought these words over. Can I do that? Am I strong enough to handle being alone for a decade…? Living alone for years, no loving or even familiar faces around him, the thought made Dick feel sorry for Bruce.
"No…I'm miserable now, but I want to be able to be happy and help other people again. Like before…" the boy said still gazing into the fire.
"What are the words of your family my boy?"
"Spread your wings and fly," the boy replied.
"And what do you make of these words? What meaning did your parents give them?" Alfred seemed curious to know the answer. His eye brow was cocked and his fingers had moved to his chin.
"My parents told me that they mean we need to find our calling in this world, and take flight to achieve it. That the robin of our house is to inspire love and hope, and we spread it by entertaining people and making them laugh," he said turning back to Alfred. But how can I bring love and hope to other people when I am without both?
"Ha, those are very warm words to hear Master Richard. Do you know the words of the house of Wayne? We are the night. While Master Bruce's lordfather always told him that it meant sometimes that which works in the darkness is what can best serve the light, I disagree. I think it means we are our own darkness. Whether you are a king, outlaw, maester, or orphan, we all are burdened with our own shadows and demons. I believe we are the night means that in order to become who you were meant to be, you must face your darkness. Now I ask you Master Richard, if you wish to leave with the circus or stay here with Master Bruce and I, for I'm told your parents had no siblings or living kin…are you prepared to face your darkness?" Alfred watched as the boy looked around the room, to the fire for a few minutes, and then finally back to him.
"I am not…but I will be…and when I am ready, I want to do it here. I cannot stay with the circus, I know that. It was my life, my whole life, but now with my parents gone…it is time to start the next chapter of my life…and that is not something that I can do beneath that tent." Dick did not know if staying in Gotham was the best choice possible for him to take, but it was leagues better than staying with the circus. Being reminded of his lost and broken family every single day was not something Dick cared to experience.
"Very good Master Richard, I am pleased to hear you will be staying with us. Would you like to hear a story? My book has many of them," Alfred said opening it slowly with a smile.
"I want to hear a story, but not of Bran the builder or of the Dragon King, I want to hear one about Batman," Dick replied sincerely.
"But my dear boy…the Batman has only just appeared a few nights ago, I wouldn't know where to start a story or even continue it on to…" Alfred had not expected that particular request.
"Make one up then," the boy said managing a small smile. His eyes were puffy and red, the open air stung at them, but Dick tried his hardest not to cry. Batman was strong, he was fearless, it gave Dick hope that someday he could be the same.
Alfredlooked pensive for a moment before saying, "Very well Master Richard. Our story begins on a dark, cold night like tonight. A young boy had lost everything he had ever loved, and was both fearful of the world…and angry at it…"