Selina: Chapter 13
Selina had lost count of how long she had been locked in this wooden cell. It still bested her old one of stone by leagues, but a cell of solitude is a cell of solitude no matter what the walls are made of. Selina was no longer apathetic of whether she lived or not like she had been when she was rescued. She had to live, she had to fight, and as always, she had to survive. She had a renewed will, but it came with a constant spike of pain. Whenever she thought of how strongly she wanted to live, the memory of Holly always drove into her gut like the dagger that had killed the poor girl.
She missed Holly greatly, but her overwhelming grief had been replaced by anger. She wished she had not killed those smugglers in such a quick fashion in that brief moment of uncontrollable rage. She wished they still lived, so she could make their deaths slow and painful. The next unfortunate soul to hurt one of her girls would pray to the Seven every moment she was with him that his next would be his last.
One morning, she heard something she had not heard since her arrival. The door was unlocking. She tensed her body, preparing to strike. It was not her time to be fed, for she was just given her last meal less than two hours ago. She could barely reach the door, so she knew she would have to wait to get closer in order to subdue him and escape. The door opened, and he walked in.
His armor looked even more terrifying than she remembered, as the small, dim rays of light escaping through the wooden boards of her prison lit up the outline of his person. She had a hard time making out his face, as his figure was darkened by shadow. As he took a step closer, she could see he had the same tight lipped expression on his face as he always did. His eyes as always, revealed nothing of the emotion beneath. Selina stood, looking awkwardly at the floor, unsure of what to say. Wait, what am I doing? He is the one that imprisoned ME, after going to all the trouble of rescuing me.
Before Selina could attempt to unleash her anger, Batman spoke, "I'm…sorry."
Selina's stomach knotted twice over, he…apologized? Batman doesn't apologize… "Why did you take me here? Keep me here? After working so hard to save me?"
Batman looked at the floor. "I was waiting until Lord Tywin left. So long as you were running freely about the city, he would hunt you. I knew you would be safe here."
He was, protecting me? "Why? I mean nothing to you. I'm a killer, whore, thief, by your code you should have left me there to rot and die. Why did you save me?" Selina did not understand, she had more of a connection with Bruce Wayne than she ever did with Batman. She had only ever seen Batman twice, once when he saved her the first night he appeared, and another when he visited her chambers.
"Yes you are a thief, and a killer, and you used to live as a whore as well, but that does not mean you deserved to die at Lord Tywin's command. I am here to protect the people of this city, and that includes you. You killed, and while that goes against what I believe; you did not kill out of greed, or vengeance. You killed out of the ache in your heart. That ache, it is something that is overpowering, I understand how one can lose themselves in it…."
He's lost someone before…and killed before…That was the only way Batman could know of the pain she felt in her soul right now. She waited a few moments before responding, thinking of the correct way to phrase such a question, "Who was it? That died?"
Batman looked up to her, locking eyes. "No one that matters now…"
Selina would not accept that response. "It was enough to make you kill."
Batman then did something Selina had never seen her do, react. Selina saw his eyes widen through those narrow slits in his helm, and he was at a loss for words for a few moments. "You do not know that of which you speak. Let it alone." Selina knew she had hit a weak spot in that impenetrable armor of his, she had to see it through. "Who did you kill?"
Batman tightened his hand into a fist, and a grimace grew upon his lips. He was in some form of inner anguish and turmoil, Selina could see that plainly. She had taken a few steps closer to him without realizing it, and now she stood four paces from him at most. She wanted to reach a hand out to him, but stopped herself. What am I doing!? He does not want your comfort Selina, he wants to live in solitude in his damn dark armor. He cares not for a woman's touch or comfort.
Selina pulled the hand back quickly and wrapped it around her other arm as to stop herself from trying to reach out for him. She bit her lip to silence herself, she did not want to disrupt him from his troubled thoughts. After a minute, he sighed deeply, and looked up to her once more. "How I killed, was the worst way to kill of all." She was not expecting that response; she tilted her head and squinted her eyes in confusion. "How then?"
"It was not out of anger, or jealousy, bloodlust, hatred, sorrow, it was…without emotion. It was cold, logical, thought out…I should have killed him out of anger, vengeance… I killed him with precision and with a month's worth of planning…I…"
Batman stopped himself, and grew silent once more. Any anger Selina had had towards Batman for imprisoning her was gone, washed away by the hurting, splintered soul she saw before her now. She stepped closer, until her face was less than a foot from his. She drew her arm up, and brought the back of her hand across his face with a loud smack. He reached a hand up to touch the reddened spot where she had struck, suddenly looking more irritated than confused.
"That was for imprisoning me," she said before leaning her head in. She planted a soft kiss on his lips, feeling the warmth of her lips touch the cold stone of his. His lips did not move, in fact, he made no move to embrace her, or stop her. She let her lips linger there for a few moments before stepping back and looking to the side in sudden embarrassment. "And that was for…saving me…"
Batman took a step towards her now, and was the one to lean his head in. His face laid idle beside her cheek, his warm breath blowing against her cheek rhythmically. He swallowed before whispering, "I'm sorry." Selina felt a familiar prick in her arm where his hand was wrapped around it. Before she slowly slipped into unconsciousness she remembered thinking, Bastard.
When she awoke she was wrapped under the warm blankets of her bed, surrounded by the multiple colored furs and quiet meowing of her cats. She turned on her side to look out the window, night had fallen, but for once she did not feel like going out. She rolled onto her back and found Isis and Meelo sitting on the pillow beside her staring into her eyes. "Come here my sweetlings, mama's home." They immediately jumped into the space beneath her neck and entangled into each other, cozying up against her chin.
Alfred: Chapter 12
Batman had won. He had fended off the Joker, Tywin Lannister, and a city that had turned aganst him, but in the end he had survived and won. As Alfred entered his chambers and changed into his silken bed-dressings, he could not help but wonder at what cost these victories were for. Yes Batman had won this fight, and he might win the next and the next, but what would happen when he loses. Would he lose his life, would Gotham lose its one chance at hope?
Alfred slunk into his chair beside the fire, and wondered what it was all for. Yes he can defeat Lord Tywin, Deathstroke, the Joker, but eventually this path will claim his life, and what then? What becomes of the legacy of the Waynes, what becomes of Master Richard, what becomes of their loyal servant who would have lost everything in this life that he had come to love…how will this end?
He lifted his book from the small table beside him, but could not bring himself to read any of the words on the pages. He sat there, staring at the sentences and hoping that this was not the way it had to be. Alfred had accepted that Gotham needed Batman, he just wished Bruce would not have to inevitably give his life just for a chance at giving Gotham new life.
As Alfred finally decided sleep was his best option, a bright light shone from behind him. Alfred turned his head to look behind his chair, but the light was so blinding that he had to hide his eyes and turn back around. Then he heard it, a voice without any emotion or hint of a pitch in it, just one, flat tone.
"It is all for something, of that much I can assure you," the voice said from somewhere behind his chair. Alfred swallowed slowly, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He stood from his chair, and reached for the iron fire poker laid against the stone brick hearth. The voice predicted Alfred's intentions, "That will not be necessary. To answer the next three questions in your head. No I am not here to kill you. Yes, you are awake. No, I am not a ghost or demon."
Alfred's spine froze over. His eyes paralyzed open in apprehension, terror seeping into his heart. He let go of the fire poker, and turned to face his unexpected visitor. Facing him from the corner of the room stood a man in queerer armor than even Batman's. His body was covered in a dark blue material that was as smooth looking as silk but clung to his body tightly. His armor looked like it were forged of pure gold, with golden gauntlets, a belt, boots, and cape. The cape was tethered to his chest by a large golden medallion with some starred emblem sculpted into it. His helmet though, was what was the most grabbing to Alfred's eye. It was golden like the rest of his dressings, but it was reflective as water, and covered the entirety of the stranger's head flatly as if he had no nose or mouth. A ridge of metal rose from the helm just above where his hairline would have been and reached back to behind his skull. The only notable characteristic of the helmet were the two eye slits, glowing a fiery golden hue that looked as if they could steal Alfred's soul.
"W-who are you?" Alfred managed to ask. The sight of this stranger frightened Alfred more so than even seeing the Joker for the first time.
An un-muffled voice spoke from the helmet, as if it weren't coming from his mouth at all. "My name is not important, but my purpose here is. I am here to show you how all of this, as you put it, ends." Alfred realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled hurriedly while never letting his eyes drop from the fiery gaze of his visitor. The man continued, "But I must correct you there. For this does not end. This, is merely the beginning."
Alfred took a step closer. "The beginning of what?"
The stranger rose a hand, "Allow me to show you."
A light came from the palm of the man's hand, making Alfred hide beneath his arms. When he looked back up, he was no longer in his dark stoned bed chamber. The room he stood in now had a deep violet carpet covering the floor, the walls were made of stone but not the dark stone of Wayne Castle. Books stood in tall towers along the room's perimeter making most of the walls beyond visibility. Smaller stacks of books littered the floor as well, with open ones usually standing at their peaks. A long oak table stood in the center of the room, with maps and bottles littering it. There were a great amount of those as well, bottles filled with glowing liquids and mixtures of different colors littered the cabinets at the far right end of the room. A fire crackled in a marble hearth before Alfred, and two satin chairs of purple with golden frames sat beside it.
The stranger raised an arm to the fire, "Come, sit. We have much to discuss."
Alfred hesitantly took up the offer and followed him to sit in the chair opposite.
"Where are we?" the Dornishman asked.
"My home, the Tower of Fate."
"I have never heard of such a place…where are we? Asshai? Braavos? Somewhere beyond the Jade Sea?" Alfred did not understand, how did this stranger make this room appear before him? He had heard of the shadow men of Asshai, the face-changers of Braavos, but he was not familiar with a man who could make a room appear to be another room.
"These are not your chambers Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne. This is not a simple trick or illusion, this is real. But to answer your question, no, we are not in Braavos or Asshai. We are nowhere, for this tower does not lie within the realm of men," the stranger replied.
"How are you doing this? How did you take me here? How do you know who I am?"
The stranger raised a hand, and a book from the nearest tower of old tomes flew to him across the air. Alfred's jaw dropped at the impossibility he was witnessing. The book landed in the stranger's hands and he began flipping through the pages.
"The realm of man has forgotten magic, another tragedy that has been lost in the current of time. I know much about you Alfred Pennyworth, how many men you've killed, what your mother's hair smelt of whenever she knelt to kiss you good night, what your favorite place to skip rocks as a child was. Do you believe in fate Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne?"
"I uh, I suppose I do," Alfred responded, gazing into his reflection in the man's golden helmet.
"Fate is something so many men believe to be out of their grasp. That things simply happen because they are predetermined. They are wrong. Fate is no more predetermined than the way the wind blows, or how long a winter lasts. Fate is like a network of roads, interweaving like a spider's web. At every intersection there are a dozen paths, and then at each of those consecutive paths' intersections there are another dozen paths. I see all of this Alfred Pennyworth, for fate has chosen me to be its watcher."
"Watcher of…fate? But how can that be?" Alfred's mind was racing, trying to rationalize what he was seeing and hearing.
"There is disbelief in your voice. That is alright, I do not blame you for not believing in what you hear. You are a practical man Alfred Pennyworth, I value that aspect in a person. Allow me to explain. I oversee fate, in its entirety. From the smallest butterfly wings flapping amongst a summer breeze, to a man riding dragons across Westoros, I see the fate of all that has been, could have been, all that will be, and could be. Everything affects everything Alfred Pennyworth. From a man rising up against a cruel king, to a soldier not being where he was supposed to be on the battlefield, to a boy and his parents being in the wrong alley on the wrong night."
Alfred understood the stranger's intent now. "You're speaking of Bruce. All of this is about Bruce."
The stranger waited a moment before replying, "No, and yes. History remembers names and stories Alfred Pennyworth. But only of those who rise or fall, not of those who remain in between. History remembers legends, Bran the Builder, the Mad King, Aegon the Conqueror, but they forget the men who fought and died in the thousands and thousands of wars fought on bloodied soil. Time will not remember Alfred Pennyworth, time will not remember James Gordon, and time will not remember Bruce Wayne."
Alfred was confused, why bring him to this mysterious place if none of them were going to make a difference in the world? Why did Alfred need to know about fate? "So if time will not remember us, why did you bring me here?"
"Time will not remember your names as men. Stories are not told of Bran or Aegon because they were men, they are remembered because they were symbols. Time remembers those that symbolize and represent something more than themselves. That is why time will forget Bruce Wayne, but time will remember the Batman. The fates of Batman have been drawn, and those fates are infinite. Across the rivers of fate and sands of time Batman has become a legend and icon for justice," the stranger told Alfred, who was listening with rapt attention.
"But if Batman is the important one, why did you come to speak with me?"
"Because you Alfred Pennyworth, are the most important part of the rise of Batman. I have seen the paths of Batman without you, and they are wrought with suffering and darkness. Bran had his hammer, Aegon his dragons, and Batman has you, his torch to light the way. Without you Batman would become lost, a victim to his own darkness. You and I are alike in that way Alfred Pennyworth, we are both servants of the light."
Alfred grew slightly irritated at that. "You hide your face, ser. If Master Bruce hides his face and works in the shadows, how are you any different?"
The stranger lifted a hand and lightly traced his fingers along the flat surface of his helmet. "Unlike your lord, my helmet can never be taken off. It is the Helmet of Fate, and once put on cannot be removed until the helmet finds a worthy successor. My name is Nabu, but that is the extent of which you need to know. The things you need to know lie elsewhere."
"What do I need to know, Nabu?"
"Allow me to show you," Nabu said as he stood and walked over to Alfred. He waited for Alfred to stand, and lightly touched two fingers and his thumb to Alfred's forehead. Alfred's eyes suddenly were blinded for an instant in pure white light. Alfred blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they were standing in the cave beneath Wayne Castle. Nabu was at his side but remained silent, and then Alfred heard a familiar voice from behind him.
Alfred turned to see himself coming down the carved stairway from Thomas Wayne's study. He was older however, with white hair and a light gray mustache. His face had wrinkles and sags, and he walked hunched over slightly. He held a silver serving tray with two glasses filled with red wine on it. He walked over to a large wooden desk in the center of the cave where another older man sat.
He recognized this man immediately as well. He had a dark gray beard and hair with a scar above his right eye. His face had aged since Alfred had last seen it. The man was wearing armor similar to Bruce's Bat-armor, except this set had a darker and more twisted nature. It had longer, curved spikes jutting from the shoulder guards. The points of the helmet stood taller than Bruce's as well. The bat symbol on the chest was thicker, and the armor looked heavier and more akin to a knight's armoring.
Alfred watched this older version of himself walk over to the table and hand the Bat-armored man one of the glasses. He coughed into his hand, and then spoke, "Master Thomas, it will be time soon."
Thomas Wayne took a drink from the glass, before saying, "I know old friend, King Joffrey's armies are at our gates. Soon Gotham will be all but ash. Did I live my life right Alfred? It's been forty years since Bruce and Martha were killed. I've lived my life to keep any such tragedy from happening to another unfortunate family, but was it enough? Joffrey remains king, the Starks, Tullys, Baratheons, all dead. Heh, and soon the Waynes too. Do you think they would be proud of the way I've lived Alfred? Ah who am I lying to, no they would have wanted me to live for myself…it should have been me Alfred. Bruce should have been the one who lived. He was younger, he should have experienced more of life."
The older Alfred just stood there with a hand on his master's shoulder as Thomas Wayne finished his drink and stood. He placed his helmet on, and drew his sword from its scabbard on the desk. "If I am to die, I will take that incestuous spawn with me. May the Father judge me justly."
Alfred blinked as his eyes were blinded by the white light once more. When they opened, he was once again in the cave, but this time there were more inhabitants surrounding him. There was a woman standing over a desk in leather dressings and armor with lighter plating, similar to Bruce's but with a more feminine physique. She had long brown hair that was tied off in a tail and a crimson cape reaching down to the stone beneath her feet. A large direwolf with a beautiful brown coat stood beside her resting its head on the desk. Behind her a young boy with silver hair was running around in leather jerkin and wool breeches, punching and kicking at the air.
Alfred saw another version of himself in the northern corner of the cave speaking with a man with shoulder length black hair. This Alfred was older, but not as old as the Alfred that had spoken to Thomas Wayne in the last vision. The man he was speaking to also seemed familiar to Alfred, but not as easy to name as Thomas had been. This man had a narrower chin, and wore Bat-armor that looked much leaner and lightweight than Bruce's. It had a chest plate and small shoulder pauldrons, but was mostly only black, boiled leather. It was a slimmer bat insignia than was on Bruce's chest, and his armor was slightly lighter in color. A black cape clung to his shoulders with small metal bats locking it to his shoulders
The Alfred of this vision began to speak, "Master Richard, if you would please just try to be more careful. With the lack of metal armoring on your suit you are far more suscep-"
The long haired man to which he was speaking cut him off with a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Alfie, don't be so worried. I have Bruce's ghost watching over me, there is not a crossbow bolt or arrowhead or blade in the world that could kill me. Not like they could catch me anyways, I mean have you seen how swiftly I move?"
Master Richard is just as charming in his adulthood as he is in his youth, Alfred thought to himself. The woman that was standing at the table sauntered over to where Dick and Alfred were speaking. "Oh Dick will you just listen to him, why must you always be such a child!"
Dick turned to face her. "Well I don't remember you complaining when you married this child, Arya."
The woman's cheeks grew red and she gave him a playful smack across his cheek. "Should we try and see if Batwoman can beat Batman into the ground? Or should we just go off the last four times we've sparred."
As Dick gave her an apologetic kiss on her cheek the boy left his sparring with his imaginary partner and walked over to them. "Lord Richard, may we go out on patrol now?"
Dick ruffled the boy's silver hair and smiled. "Now Rhaegen, patience is a virtue and is important to learn."
Arya sighed, and the young boy's brow scrunched in anger. "My mother is Queen Daenaerys Targaryen, my father is King Brandon the Great! You will not speak to me in such a-"
Dick cut him off as well and laughed as he stood up, "Ha! Yes Rhaegen I know who your bloody mother is, I'm your uncle after all. Alright, go on and get suited up, we'll head out soon."
Alfred was blinded again, and once again opened his eyes to find himself in the cave. This time however there were three boys of seemingly varying ages, all with black hair, and all sitting around a large oak table in the shape of the bat symbol. One sat at the tip of each wing and one in the center at its ears.
The boy on the far left wore a red and black leather riding jacket with red plates along his gauntlets and arms. He had belts overlapping across his chest to form an "X" and was reading a book with a green cover from what Alfred could see. A black and red cape clung to his shoulders and fell behind him into the chair.
The right-most boy was the youngest, and wore a green mask over his eyes and the bridge of his nose with angled points coming down over his cheeks. He had a red leather vest with light plating on it and black, boiled leather covering his arms and legs. A yellow "R" sat in a black circle sewn upon his breast. He had matching green gloves and boots, and a black cape and hood with a yellow underside. He was aggressively sharpening one of his throwing knives with a whetstone. The boy looked around as old as Dick was in Alfred's world.
The one in the middle was in fact a younger man, with longer, black hair covering his forehead and the back of his neck. He wore a pure-black, leather riding jacket and leggings with armoring even lighter than Master Richard's Bat-armor from the last vision. A blue "V" stretched down over his chest connecting from his shoulders to a point just above his abdomen. He also wore a mask similar to the youngest boy's except this one was as black as his armor. This man had no cape. Instead he wore two steel bars crossed behind his back in leather belts.
Alfred saw yet another version of himself speaking with an older Bruce Wayne as they came down the cave walkway. "Master Bruce, Ser Gordon says that King Robb is still a fortnight's ride from Gotham. There is no need to worry so."
Bruce's face had grown hardened with age, he looked older than forty now. "It does not matter Alfred. So long as Scarecrow is free, I need to find him and stop him. Whatever his plans are for Robb's arrival, they end here."
The boy that was reading laid his book down and spoke, "Bruce, can you tell your son to stop being such an annoying little imp? Alll day he prattles on about how he could kill me in my sleep and I grow so tired of it!"
The youngest boy angrily retorted standing up, "Father! Tell Drake that if he wishes to try and reprimand me he could act like there is something between his legs and challenge me to a fight to the death like an honorable man would!"
This vision's Alfred spoke up now, "Master Damian, I would ask that you please mind your language in my presence at the very least. An old man has no need to hear such obscenities."
The boy sat back down and grunted, "Pennyworth, you've got to be at least a century old by now and still haven't fallen to the ground in a puff of dust. I think you will be fine."
The young man in the middle stood up. "Damian don't be sarcastic with Alfie. He doesn't care for it that much I can assure you. Why one time, he actually tried to scrub my tongue out with water and a brush after saying 'damn.'"
Now Bruce spoke, "Damian, behave yourself and be nicer to Tim. Tim, don't do…whatever you were doing to Damian. Dick, I need you over at the Lion's Den tonight, Selina says some of Cobblepot's thugs have been lingering around. Now let's move."
The light came and went, and this time the cave looked rather different. The water that had spotted the cave floor had dried up. There were also more torches lit around the walls than in the cave Alfred knew. The southern corner of the cave had collapsed and rubble and broken boulders claimed a quarter of the cave's space. There were more desks, shelves, and cabinets, but the row of glass cases in the northern corner of the cave was the most differentiating feature from the other caves.
Four glass domes stood in a row, each taller than a man and holding a life size mannequin inside. Each wooden body had a suit of armor on it. The closest one donned Bruce's Bat-armor. The second one had the black-leather suit with the blue "V" that Dick had worn in the last vision. The third held a suit that Alfred wasn't familiar with. It had a feminine frame with a woman's breast plate, but was made of the same darkened steel and leather that Bruce's suit was made of. The final one was a smaller suit, for a boy, and had a red, boiled leather vest with dark green leggings and boots.
Alfred turned to see an older man and a boy sitting at a large wooden table in the center of the cave. The man had a very old and wrinkled face with finely cut, snow-white hair. He wore a black doublet and a black wooden cane rested against his chair. He looked very solemn as he sat there drinking a glass of white wine. The boy had shaggy brown hair, and was dressed in a simple cotton tunic and breeches. He had an oddly thin sword laid out in front of him. It was smaller than a standard blade and looked like it was forged to only be wielded with one hand. A wolf pup sat at his feet, gnawing on a bone contentedly.
Then, a horse came galloping into the cave through the tunnel with yet another Batman atop it. This Batman had no cape, armor that appeared was blacker than night, and a narrowed red bat symbol across his chest. He appeared smaller and leaner in size than Bruce's Batman. His helm also covered his entire face and had longer points attached to the top of it. The rider dismounted, and walked over to the table as he pulled off his helmet. The young man had fuller lips than Bruce, and a more boyish face. His hair reached halfway down his face and was dark black, just as the others'. He sat down and took a glass from the older man and poured himself a small amount of wine.
The old man coughed, and then spoke, "McGinnis, how did it go?"
The young man armored in black replied, "There were fifteen Jokers, all now safely in Captain Gordon's hands and rotting in cells."
The white haired man looked apathetic still. "Barbara's day has been made I'm sure. Any word from King's Landing?"
McGinnis stood and walked over to behind the young boy and ruffled his hair. "Nope, King Darris Baratheon still has no idea where young Ned Stark is. How are you doing little man?"
The little boy giggled before looking up at him, "Terry, this juice tastes like horse droppings, hehe."
Terry looked up to the old man who grunted and sourly said, "Alfred always could grind the oranges better."
Alfred's breath caught in his throat as he realized the old man before him was actually his dear Master Bruce. He looks so different, but…I suppose I should thank the Seven that he managed to live into his old years.
As the young boy Ned and his direwolf pup began chasing Terry around the cave Alfred turned back to Nabu who had been silent as the grave this entire time.
"Why are you showing me these things? To what end?"
Nabu stood as still as he had during each vision. "To show you the importance of what has happened Alfred Pennyworth. To show you that more than just the Gotham of your timeline is affected by the dawn of Batman, but entire worlds across thousands, dozens of thousands of timelines as well."
When Alfred closed and opened his eyes again, he was in a cave, but not the normal black walls of the other caves. This one had dark-stoned bricks making up its walls, and seemed more a dungeon than a cave. It was a smaller room, perhaps as large as Thomas Wayne's study, and had old shelves and bookcases filled to the brim with old tomes and bound sheets of parchment.
Suddenly the black iron door at the other end of the room opened, and this vision's Batman walked in. He had no cape, but wore a dark gray, steamed leather jacket that stretched down to his shins. It had pauldrons on his shoulders that curved up at the ends, along with a chest plate with a sharp-edged bat sigil across it. The helm had the shortest points of any helmet Alfred had seen thus far, but it still revealed the man's chin and mouth. Dried blood was splattered on his hands and gauntlets.
As the man sat down in an old wooden chair at his desk and removed his helm, Alfred saw that the man had a bald head. His eyes were dark green, one of them had a scar over it reaching from above where his hair line would be down to his jaw. He had a stoic, hardened face, just as Bruce did. A white cat with a thick, furry coat crawled out from behind a bookcase and wove its way in between the man's legs. He picked it up, and rested it in his lap as he pet it.
He began speaking to it, "I killed him, I killed the Joker. I did it Alfred, I did it."
The man scratched the cat under its chin eliciting a loud purr. "Alfred, I wonder how father would feel. Knowing I avenged his death. He probably would scold me, he did hate killing so. But there was no other choice Alfred, surely he would have been able to see that. Sigh, I wish he was still here, I could use his wisdom now more than ever."
Alfred had seen all he could handle. He turned on Nabu, "I am done with this. I wish to see no more! None of these show me any worth to what Bruce is doing. Only reaffirm that it always ends with Bruce either alone or dead! I care not to see anymore, now return me to my chambers so I may fall asleep with my book in my hand and not have to see another world with orphan boys dwelling in a dark cave beneath the earth."
Nabu said nothing, and Alfred's eyes once again were blinded only for him to return to his chambers, sitting in his chair with his book across his lap. Ah, finally, the nightmare has ended. As he began to open his book his door burst open, and a young girl ran in to hide behind his chair. "My word, girl remove yourself from there and show me your face." The girl giggled and walked out in front of Alfred. She had dark green eyes as well, and straight, black hair that dangled past her shoulders. She was wearing a black, silk night gown with the bat of Wayne embroidered in its center.
"Where did you get this my dear?" Alfred began to ask her before he heard footsteps thundering down the hall. Bruce burst into the room, but not the Bruce that Alfred remembered. He was older, barely past thirty it seemed. His hair was cleanly cut and he was wearing black, silk bed-dressings similar to the young girl's. But what was most estranging, he actually looked…happy.
"Oh there you are Helena! Trying to hide behind Alfred won't save you now!" He ran to her and scooped her up into his arms. She giggled the entire time as Bruce tickled her belly. Then a woman walked in who Alfred recognized immediately. Selina Kyle now wore her hair past her shoulders in beautifully elegant curls. She wore an elegant night dress of red silk with bright gold trimmings and edges.
"Bruce, do let our daughter go to bed before she becomes some creature of the night!" She said in equal parts scolding and jest.
Bruce turned to her. "Oh my love, do not worry so much. Helena was just learning what happens when you anger the Bat! Weren't you sweetling?" The little girl giggled and nodded her head. Selina turned to Alfred, "My apologies Alfred for these two clowns disturbing your peaceful reading. We'll excuse ourselves."
Alfred stuttered as he tried to find the words to speak, "U-uh no it's quite alright my lady. No harm done here." He felt, warm, inside. A sort of warmth he had not felt since watching a young Bruce play with his father beside the fire while he read in his chair and Lady Wayne sat sewing in hers.
The two loving parents smiled before leaving the room to take their daughter to bed. Alfred stood from his seat and looked around the room. It was exactly the same as his chambers in his world, or time, or whatever magic this illusion all was. When he turned back to the fire, Nabu was standing before him with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Why did you show me this!? To taunt me? To show me that Bruce could be happy with a loving wife and daughter? Not stuck in some dark pit beneath this place? Why?!" He yelled at the gold-helmeted stranger.
Nabu did not move. "There are streams of fate flowing from the great ocean of time that do end with Bruce being happy. There are also those that end with him dead. It is so for all men and women who walk this earth Alfred Pennyworth. But no man has affected so many timelines so greatly, than Batman. A fear not even Brandon the Builder or Aegon the Conqueror can match such a feat."
"But Bruce Wayne is Batman. The boy I watched grow to be so full of sorrow, rage, determination, he is Batman!"
Nabu turned to the fire. "No, he is only the beginning. You saw the others, Damian Wayne, Terrence McGinnis, Arya Stark, Timothy Drake, Richard Grayson, Rhaegen Targeryen, young Eddard Stark, they all become something more because of the legacy of Batman. There must always be a Batman. And where there is a Batman, there must be an Alfred Pennyworth. I have shown you these timelines, to show you that it all does matter. You have affected and shaped every timeline. You will not be remembered in song, you will not be remembered in story, but the legacy of the Batman will always, always include you. But when you return to your world, you will forget most of what you have seen. If you kept all of this knowledge it would cause too much damage to the rivers of fate, and you could be thrown into a river you were not meant to tread. I am sorry."
Alfred was thoroughly confused now. "Then if you won't even let me remember, why show me all of this in the first place?"
"I recall telling you that you would not remember most of what you have seen. Right now, the feeling in your stomach, it is not rage, or anger, or sorrow, but acceptance. Through what you have seen you can accept the flow of fate. You are now aware that it does mean something, that Bruce Wayne becoming Batman does achieve something more than just the rest of his days in a sorrowful cave. Now you will return to your world, keeping that feeling that all of this is truly for something. Your doubts will be laid to rest, so that you can best light the way while Bruce walks his treacherous path."
Alfred looked into the fire, watching it dance along the bark of the logs slowly turning their dance floor black and burnt. He looked Nabu in his fiery eyes and said, "Very well, if you say this is to aid me in helping Master Bruce, then I accept this burden."
Nabu slowly paced over to him, and laid a golden glove on the Dornisman's shoulder. "You are a loyal and truly noble man Alfred Pennyworth. I can see why you affect the dawn of Batman so intimately now. Just remember these words, you cared so greatly for the legacy Thomas and Martha Wayne left behind. You believed that to be Bruce. He believes it to be the bricks and glass and stone that make up their castle. You are both wrong, the legacy of the Waynes is Batman. Without the Waynes, there is no Batman, and without Batman, many, innumerable even, timelines would be much, much darker. As Thomas Wayne once told his son, the things in the dark are what can best help the light. Through you, Bruce can light the first torch that brings light to so many worlds. So do not fret Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne, for it all is for a purpose. It is all just another touch from the hand of fate."
Nabu lifted his hand, and Alfred was once again blinded. When his eye lids lifted, he looked around and was back in the comfort of his own chambers once more. He tried to remember how he got into his chair, he felt groggy almost as if he had been sleeping. No I wasn't sleeping, or was I? I suppose it matters not, the dark of the late night plays games with a man's mind.
He stood, not remembering why he had left his bed to sit by the fire, but returned to beneath his silk sheets and fell into a truly peaceful and restful sleep. The first he had had in more than fifteen years.