Richard: Chapter 13
"They just were here? No message of their coming or anything?"
Alfred sighed, "Yes Master Richard, I merely answered the door and their Lord Stark was with his daughters. Master Bruce is speaking with Lord Eddard now, the girls are in their chambers. I just thought I should warn you of their coming. Since there are women in the house now I expect you to mind your manners and be most courteous. You are their host."
Dick smirked, "They're no older than me, they are not women. And Bruce is their host, I'm merely his ward, or squire, serving boy, or whatever I am."
Alfred smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, "I would think of you as his apprentice, not his serving boy. Good night, Master Richard."
"Night Alfie."
The servant left to return to his own chambers, leaving Dick sitting in his chair and staring into the fire. The fire had given him a great deal of comfort since coming here the night his parents died. It was the one source of consistency that Alfred had suggested he find. It is warm, bright, gives men hope in the darkness. Dick smiled.
He then heard a shuffling outside his door. Dick looked suspiciously at the door, expecting Alfred to return, but it remained closed. Dick slowly stood and moved to free Nightwing from his cage. Once the bird stood on the boiled leather glove Dick wore to save his hand from the hawk's talons, he crept back to the door. He rested an ear against the hard wood listening for anymore noises before slowly turning the handle and poking his head out into the hall.
The corridor was empty, Alfred's door to his right and the doors to Thomas Wayne's study at his left both shut. Then he heard a soft thud echo down the hall from past the study. The main stairwell.
Dick quietly walked down the stone hallway without so much as a sound. He had gotten much better at remaining unheard when moving. Even Nightwing remained silent, his eyes fixed at the corner they were fast approaching. Dick slunk up to the corner and slowly pointed his head around just in time to see a foot disappear behind the corner at the far end of the main hall. Dick left the corner and quietly paced down the length of the hall, under the marble staircase that led to the upper floors, past the long tapestries hanging on the walls, and finally arriving at the corner at the end of the hall. He once again turned his head to peer into the formerly abandoned hallway.
This time he saw a young girl with long brown hair kneeling in front of a door fiddling with its brass handle. She was wearing common dressings, a loose sleeved tunic, and plain breeches. Dick moved down the hall quietly, the girl was so entranced in her work she paid him no mind even when he was but four paces from her.
"What are you doing?"
The girl jumped and turned on him so quickly that Dick barely had time to dodge her swinging arm. She put a hand to her chest to calm her nerves as her breath slowed and she matched Dick's gaze. She had pale gray eyes, and the moonlight reflected off of her face making it look almost angelically white. She had a longer face, and her unruly hair was pulled back into a braid. She had a small metal pin in the hand opposite the one she had tried to strike Dick with.
"I-I, how did you do that?," she asked.
"Do what? You're the one trying to break into a room that is locked."
"I didn't hear you coming. I can hear a cat's footsteps but I couldn't hear yours," she said raising an eyebrow.
"I suggest first you answer who you are and what you're doing. Then, I may tell you how I could move silently," he responded firmly.
The girl blinked and looked to the ground in uncertainty before looking up to coldly match eyes with Dick. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of the Lord Hand and Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. I was just trying to see what was behind the locked door. There seems to be a lot of them here."
"Yes because we do not want guests going where they shouldn't."
The girl smiled, "You know, Winterfell has no locked doors. We have nothing to hide. So what do you have to hide here I wonder? You're the circus boy aren't you?"
Dick hesitated, "I used to be." He turned and began walking back down the hallway the way he had come.
Arya waited until he was twenty paces away before loudly whispering, "Wait! You never told me how you walked so silently!"
She ran after him, her footsteps echoing loudly down the empty, stone corridor. Nightwing stared at her as she slowed her pace to match Dick's. "It appears your bird likes me, does he have a name?"
Dick did not look at her. "Nightwing, and he is not simply some bird, he's a hawk."
Arya looked to the ground, "Sorry. I had a wolf once, a direwolf. She was beautiful, her name was Nymeria."
Dick continued looking forward as they rounded the corner back into the main hallway. "What happened to her?," he asked.
"I had to chase her off or else she would have been killed. Why won't you look at me?," she questioned as she turned to stand in his path.
"I don't know. How you act, I think. Just saying I'm the circus boy as if that were all I am. It would be like me calling you the wolf girl," he replied. The girl seemed rather rude, and either uncaring or unaware of other's emotions. I am more than just a circus boy. I am Richard Grayson, the last of my name. I am Robin, apprentice of Batman himself.
She inched her face closer to his with a look of fiery determination. "I am a wolf girl. I do not hide or run from what I am. I am as quiet as a shadow, as swift as a cat, and I am a water dancer!"
Dick chuckled, "What is a water dancer? Do you throw water in people's face to fend them off?" Dick pushed past her but she caught him by the shoulder with a firm grip. Dick turned to look at her over his shoulder, "Sorry but I do not fight girls, my apologies m'lady."
Arya smirked, "I was about to tell you the same thing."
Dick smiled, "Follow me, but remember you asked for it."
He led her down the hallway opposite the one with his and Alfred's chambers, to the guest dining hall. It was only the length of three of Dick's chambers but was still lavishly decorated. A thin layer of dust had built up on the table tops and chairs as the hall had not been used in two months. Dick moved to the far side of the hall to the fireplace, Arya hesitantly following behind him. Dick moved a chair to the hearth's front and stood on it to reach the crossed swords hanging above it. He drew the blades from their places and tossed one to Arya.
They were thinner blades, and lighter than most swords. They were the same ones that he and Alfred had sparred with months ago. Arya looked at the metal in her hand before looking back up to Dick. He jumped down from the chair to spin the blade in his hand. "They are dulled so no need to worry about spilling any blood from that delicate little body of yours."
She smirked and held the sword out flat, pointing it at Dick. "Oh I wouldn't be the one to bleed anyways." She lowered her body and turned it so that Dick could only see her profile from the side. She wielded the blade with one hand, the other raised out from her body on the far side.
Dick looked at her confusedly, "What are you doing?"
"This is how a water dancer fights. My body's turned on its side to face you, making me less of a target. Why? What is your stance?," she asked as she stepped closer to Dick.
"I don't have one," he lunged forward with a soft blow to get a taste for how she fought. She parried and tried to counterattack but Dick was already two paces to his left by the time her blade's edge came down. She swung again and Dick merely ducked and stepped to his right. She clearly was not overly skilled with a blade, but she was disciplined and determined. Dick admittedly was not overly skilled with a blade either, but he was well aware of that. He took very few swings at her, choosing to sidestep and dodge her attacks rather than counter.
She fought him until his back was to the table, leaving him no room left to dodge her blows. She brought her sword back and jabbed it forward as Dick leapt up and landed on the table with great ease. She blinked at the unexpected move, and Dick took this time to run down the length of the table. Arya shook her head before climbing onto the table and following him. Just like Alfie, only shorter, and still has hair.
He turned to face his opponent as she caught up to him and continued her assault. Dick stepped back and to the side and ducked, occasionally bringing his sword up to block hers. After a few more minutes Arya's swings slowed, her breath grew heavy, and she was clearly tiring. Nightwing cawed from his perch on the far side of the room beside the fire.
"Drop your blade and admit defeat," Dick taunted with a smirk.
She looked up from the table and charged him for one last attack. She brought her sword quickly to Dick's right as he stepped to the left and then slipped his feet in between her legs and spun. She lost her footing on the table's smooth, wooden top and fell to the ground below. She looked up at him with a scowl as Dick picked up her sword from the table.
"In all fairness, I did give m'lady a chance," he chided teasingly.
He dropped to the ground and offered her a hand. She swatted it aside as she stood and dusted off her tunic with an irritated grunt. He smiled and walked to the opposite end of the hall and put the blades back in their resting place. He donned the leather glove and allowed Nightwing to hop onto his outstretched hand.
"How do you move like that?," she asked him.
He turned around to face her before smirking and answering, "As you said. I'm a circus boy. Good night."
He left the hall and returned to his chambers. He changed into his bed dressings, put Nightwing back in his cage, and crawled into his bed. All the while, a large smirk never leaving his face.
Alfred: Chapter 16
The bookcase slid to the side as Alfred expertly proceeded to climb down the ladder with only one hand as the other was busy balancing a silver serving tray. Honeyed pork and steamed carrots were today's course. Not that Bruce will eat very much of it, Alfred thought to himself.
As he left the narrow, carved tunnel into the open expanse of the cave Alfred's face contorted in surprise. Lord Eddard Stark sat at Bruce's large wooden desk holding the helmet of Batman in his lap. He appeared to be in a staring match with the empty eye slits. Alfred looked around the cave, noting that neither Lucius nor Bruce were present. After a moment he regained his composure and proceeded forward to the desk. As he neared, he noticed the Northern lord did not notice his approach or made no signs of heeding it.
"For the sake of my lord's head and more importantly my own, I am going to assume Master Bruce showed you this place. For if he did not, I would like to confess that my lord forced me to aid him in his schemes at the edge of a blade," Alfred said with a light-hearted smile.
Lord Eddard continued to look into the empty eyes of the helm. "Yes Alfred, the boy, or man I should say, showed me the cave. I knew he was Batman before I came, I could see it in his eyes. I'm sure you see it every day." He finally looked away from the helmet's eyes to meet Alfred's. "How do you look into those eyes every day? The look in them, the anger, the hurting, the thirst for vengeance, it's all…I can see the darkness in the boy's heart. I don't think even my own heart sank that far when my family was torn from me. Their deaths were even more brutal…self-imposed hanging, melting in armor, rape…just, I do not know."
Alfred laid the tray on the desk beside the others from days past. "Master Bruce is a difficult man to attempt to understand my lord. When you lost your family you were already a man grown. You could raise your men at arms, ally with our current king, you were old enough to know that there was more to this world than darkness and anger. Bruce…he was so young. I tried as best as I could but…come with me my lord. I wish to show you something."
Lord Stark peaked an eyebrow before nodding in understanding and following the servant back out of the cave. They walked out through the doors to the study and down the hall to the marble staircase, silent all the while. They walked up to the second floor, rounded the corner of the nearest hall, and proceeded through the nearest door on the right. Lord Eddard stopped to gaze around the room as Alfred continued on towards the fireplace.
"When Wayne Castle was built all of those years ago, Arwin Wayne had secret tunnels built into it connecting various chambers or even to beyond the castle walls it is rumored. Many of the tunnels have been lost to our knowledge over the course of the years, but some we remain privy to."
Alfred pushed one of the small stone bricks to the right of the fireplace as the wall beside it loosened with a soft shhkt. Alfred stepped to the right and pushed in on the wall, swinging it back like a door and revealing a small secret passageway. "Master Bruce used to come and hide in here when he was scared as a boy if his parents were out. He would bring a blanket and wrap himself up in this little nook until their return. It only happened during storms or when he had a haunting dream, but I learned quickly enough to find him here."
He looked back to the lord behind him staring at the servant confusedly. Alfred continued, "The night his parents were killed, I brought the boy back here. He cried, I can't remember for the life of me for how long, but then he said something. He said he would change this, he didn't know how, but he had it in his head that he would find a way. Then he walked up those steps just as we did and locked himself away in this little cave. I would bring a lit candle to illuminate the dark tunnel, but it would always be out upon my return. I would bring him food every morning and every night, but when I returned with the next plate of food I found the old one barely touched. He hid away in here for near a fortnight, not saying a word to myself or any of the other servants or city folk that came to see how well he was faring. When he finally did emerge, he was no longer a boy. This dark, desolate cave changed him. It forged him into something, different. When he emerged there were no more tears, no more wailing or sobbing, and I feared no more light. His eyes were cold, determined, a look that a boy of eight should never have. That is why you and Master Bruce are different my lord. You were grown enough to see the world still had light, to see that through all of the rage, hate, and sorrow, light was still inside your soul. Bruce however…he lost himself in the darkness, I feared forever. When he returned though, I could see the light in him once more, if only barely. Despite the solitude and dark corners of the world that his travels brought him through, it seemed the light inside him had somehow rekindled itself. This small cave here forged him into a rough blade pointed forward, but his decade away from this city sharpened him into something that was more than a man.
I know you disagree with him and his ways. I did myself for a long while, I still do in part…but with what has happened and what I have seen, Gotham needs the Batman. Bruce will never step into the light of the world as himself nor share his knowledge and learnings with the City Watch or the rest of Westoros. I do not know if he will ever wed, or have heirs, but I have this feeling in my soul that I am unable to shake. That this all means something; something greater than ourselves, something that will change the world in such a way that Aegon did with his dragons centuries ago. Westoros needs Batman as well, I only fear of what should happen if Batman proves too different for this world and is cast out for it. That is where he needs you my lord. He needs you to plead his case to King Robert, to help the other lords see that Batman is not a threat, to show them that Batman means something more."
Alfred ended his long speech as he closed the hidden passage and turned back to face Lord Eddard. The wintery lord's usually stoic, ice-carved face had melted, and small tears dotted the corners of his eyes. His mouth moved to speak but had difficulty finding the words, "I-I am sorry, I did not realize…Bruce…He has gone through so much and is but three-and-twenty. He has seen such beautiful things I am sure, but also such sorrows. Thank you, for sharing this with me Alfred."
He walked over to Alfred and laid a strong hand on the Dornishman's shoulder. "I am sure you know how important you are to him, but you also serve such a crucial role in his life."
Alfred nodded, "Yes my lord, I am the light to illuminate this dark path he is on."
Eddard smiled and shook his head, "No ser, you are not the light. I believe you are the fence at the edges of the path. You stop him from striding too far into the darkness of his heart. Thomas was my dear friend, as I'm sure he was yours as well. Bruce is not my son, but I do care for the boy greatly. I wish I had a man as loyal as you to rely on in my life. Continue to look after him, Alfred."
Alfred smiled, "I will never stop my lord."
Lord Eddard left the Waynes' bed chamber and returned to his own as Alfred returned to the kitchen to fetch Dick's morning meal. He knocked on the boy's door and proceeded in as he heard the boy grumble from his bed. Dick's hair was ruffled and messy as he leapt out of bed with a sudden alertness as if he had been awake for a long while. He snatched up the fork and began cutting into the sausage at the nearest edge of his plate.
"Thanks Alfie," he managed to get out in between fork-fulls of food being shoved into his mouth.
"You are welcome Master Richard, but as a suggestion…the next time you and lady Arya wish to duel I would suggest somewhere other than the guest dining hall. The dust that kicks up is a terrible foe for my lungs."
Dick froze with wide eyes and a fork still between his lips. "Foot prints never lie Master Richard," the servant chided with a smirk as he closed the door.
Harvey: Chapter 1
It was a time of peace for Westoros. No lords were warring, no men were incessantly dying, and the king was as merry as could be, and it was all so dull. Harvey hated war. He did not hate peaceful times, but times of peace proved so terribly boring for a man upholding the king's law. Harvey would spend the entire day in the king's throne room listening to peasants beg for gold to help their suffering farms, city folk wishing for vengeance upon their kin's killer, or lords wishing King Robert to grant them more lands or more honorable titles by kissing his fattened ass. Weak little lickspittles, they have so much and yet need so much more.
Harvey hated the way the world turned; greedy lords wishing for more whilst the impoverished only begged for the scraps from the lords' tables. This is what a fair kingdom ought look like I suppose, unfair. Ugh what I would not give for a traitor or murderer to appear. Harvey sat quietly in his place to the right side of the hall, listening as a farmer begged the throne to give him a few gold pieces to afford some more crops for the season. Summer was nearing its end, everyone knew it to be true. And when it does, men such as these will be the ones to suffer.
It was not King Robert who sat upon the hardened metal throne, it never was. His brother Renly sat atop the pointed metal chair this day, and Harvey was not the least sliver of envious. The chair was more than just a dammed throne made of rusted swords and old blades, it was a death sentence. Whoever sat in that throne was destined to die. Harvey knew all men were, but those in the throne made theirs a gambit. While most men would die peacefully in their bed at a ripe old age unless war or illness took their life, kings were destined for something different. While many would die honorably and peacefully in their beds after long lifetimes of power, many died brutal, bloody deaths far too early.
Harvey thought of all of the kings who had died on or in the name of that twisted, iron chair at the head of the hall. The Mad King was the first that came to mind, stabbed through the back right on those steps by a young Jaime Lannister. Many despised the boy for that, for turning on his words to protect the king with his life, but Harvey did not. He would have done the same deed a thousand times over. A knight whose sworn duty to protect his king is undone when a king fails to uphold his sworn duty to protect his people. King Aerys deserved to die, and while Robert was a better king than the murderous mad man by far, he was still wanting greatly of what the title of king of the Seven Kingdoms deserved.
He watched how awkward Renly looked sitting in the throne, leaning forward onto his legs as to not put too much weight into the chair. A man is liked to get pricked by one of the pointed ends of one of the hundreds of swords used to forge the Iron Throne. If I were king, I'd melt the damn thing down and make a nice throne of satin and feathers. Harvey would never be king though, nor did he want to be.
Lord Eddard looked more fitting in the throne, despite his hatred for it. It had been a fortnight since the new Hand had departed for Gotham. King Robert wished to send Jaime and thirty of his best men, but Lord Stark had argued adamantly that he wished to resolve these matters. A wolf's tongue more soothing than a lion's claw, there is something amusingly ironic in that matter somewhere.
Harvey had not returned to his home city of Gotham in over seven years. He had come to King's Landing after his father passed to aid on the King's court. At first he only fetched the court members drink or food during their time listening to people's complaints. After a while he moved up in status, becoming the presenter of the people's pleas and cases, and now served as the crown's official regent to Gotham and the western lands of Westoros. He had rode out to Casterly Rock and Highgarden a dozen times each, but he would never return to Gotham.
The city was a black pit of despair that consumed all that dared set foot in it. Bruce had the right idea of it, leave and never return. Harvey missed his dear childhood friend when he had time to. He had not seen him since two months before the young Wayne's departure across the narrow sea. He was so cold, he seemed like a ghost, more man than boy.
Harvey had left the city as soon as he was able. The Hand at the time, Lord Arryn, had taken him in an taught him everything he could. Harvey had learned the histories of the great houses of Westoros, the politics of their current statures and affairs, even learned some deal of the politics across the sea. Harvey quickly grew to be one of the most knowledgeable of the workings and politics of Westoros, and even had consulted Lord Tywin and Lord Tyrell on his visits to their respective cities.
Harvey went over the last six generations of House Lannister in his head for the remainder of the peoples' cases laid before the court. He wanted to do something more for them, to make the world even the slightest bit fairer for them, but he could not stop the world's way of working any more than he could stop a storm on the salt seas. After every pleader Harvey would always whisper in his mind, may you find the world fairer for you upon your departure. He did not pray to the Seven, for he did not believe in gods. The only god he knew was what was fair, chance. It was faceless, so men did not need to dedicate hours or even lives to it in its prayer. It was final, a man's life was always left to chance, he could die in battle or be misfortunate enough to choke on a grape. But above all, it was fair, playing out evenly for both nobles and peasants.
"Officer Dent!" Harvey turned his head to look at the voice calling out to him as the large group of onlookers left after the day's affairs concluded. Ser Jaime Lannister approached him as Harvey stood and ran his hands down his chest to flatten his doublet. It was black with a blue trim as dark as the sea on a moon-less night. His family's sigil stood on his breast. A balance with chaotic black fire on one scale, and a fortress built upon the other. To represent how even the chances are for chaotic destruction and lawful order are in this world.
Harvey smiled as the blonde haired knight approached him, "Good day Ser Jaime, how may I assist?"
"Well enough, the king has called for you, meet him in his solar. He is drunk as a forewarning," Jaime replied with a small smirk. The two of them got along well enough, both having a mutual understanding of their differing view of right and wrong than the one the rest of the world seemed to share.
"Isn't he always?," Harvey returned wittily.
He left the white-cloaked knight with a nod and paced down the hall and up the stairway to King Robert's solar. The guard let him through the door and Harvey was greeted with the distinct scent of alcohol and the familiar loud, clamorous voice of a drunken king. King Robert had a cup of ale in one hand while his other was tightened into a fist pressing into the desk. Robert's face was flustered red with both rage and drink, but all of his subjects had learned to say nothing. Harvey saw Queen Cersei sitting in a chair in front of the desk, and Master Pycelle in the other. Lord Varys stood quietly behind the old, bearded goat and two of the kingsguard stood dutifully behind King Robert's seat.
"Ah Dent! Finally a man with some sense! Come here boy come, come," the king beckoned with a drunken wave of his hand. Harvey followed orders and came to stand at the side of the king's desk.
"You lot, out now," Robert drunkenly growled at the rest of his visitors. Lord Varys bowed gracefully before moving to leave while Pycelle struggled to stand from his seat. Harvey could hear the man's frail bones creak like an old, wooden chair being sat in for the first time in a century. As Cersei stood she decided to protest the king's demand, "Your Grace, if I may-"
Robert shouted back at her, "Leave woman! I wish to go a few hours without your constant groanings and whinings in my ear!"
Cersei bit her tongue and followed the rest out, the two white knights closed the doors as they left. Dent turned back to face the king.
Robert poured himself another cup of ale while taking up a bottle of wine from under his desk to pour Harvey a glass. He slid it across the desk and pointed at the chair silently ordering him to sit. Harvey once again followed the king's direction and took up the glass to take a sip.
The king sighed, "I'll tell you boy. I am surrounded by men ready to either bend knee in fealty or to kiss my fat ass like a corpse is flocked to by ravens. How old are you again lad?"
"Three-and-twenty your Grace," he replied dutifully.
Robert chuckled, "And yet I trust you more than most of the dammed souls in these walls. How long has it been since Ned left?"
"A two weeks and one day your Grace. We sent them on our best horses so they should have arrive soon."
"Ugh, I brought him here to run my city, not ride off to another and try to help run that one. What do you make of this Lord Wayne who has returned? I'm sure I've asked you before, but humor a drunken king's request."
Harvey thought a moment. "He was my greatest friend as a boy. We did many things together, us and our other friend Thomas Elliot. Ha, I remember my mother saying we were the three great knights of Gotham when we had come home from a long day of playing knight in the woods. He was a good soul, but when his parents were killed, it changed him…"
King Robert nodded, "Do you think he could be this Batman figure we've heard so many tales of?"
Harvey shook his head, "No your Grace. He is crippled I have heard, and spends most days locked up in his castle. I hear he challenges even yourself in drinking and, well, pleasing, women."
The king threw his head back in a raucous laughter, "Oh that is good my boy! Ah that is good! Perhaps I will have to invite him here to have a drinking duel with the crippled little lord! Tell me Dent, tell me true, do you think this Batman is a threat?"
"Well your Grace, he does not kill and hasn't involved himself with anything but Gotham's affairs since his advent a few months ago. I think we can sleep soundly at night."
"Good, good to hear. Well hopefully that will help from keeping Stark there for long. Having him here to run things makes my drunk, pussy induced nights all the easier to sleep through, Haha!"