Richard: Chapter 18

"You are to wait here, if you see movement, run." Is what Bruce had told him before he climbed down from the roof of the abandoned building to sneak into Arkham Asylum. Dick was to wait on the roof and see if any of the Lannister soldiers caught wind of Bruce, and as his mentor thoroughly made clear, was to act purely as reinforcements if absolutely needed. Dick was never one for listening to orders.

Ten minutes after Bruce had crossed the bridge in between guard crossings and disappeared into the castle, Dick decided to follow suit. He waited until the guards changed posts. Lacking the grappling shot Bruce had used to easily avoid them, he silently ran across the bridge. Using a small grappling hook, he scaled the wall and disappeared on its other side before the guards returned from their walk of the perimeter. He used the hook again to climb into a second story window and gain entrance into the desolate castle. He crept out into the corridor and peered around. After not hearing a sound, he continued on along the corridors until he found himself beside an open doorway with light pouring in from it. He approached the door and peered out, seeing that it opened onto a small stone balcony overlooking the great hall. Below, the sound of men laughing and plates clattering echoed up and off the rafters.

Dick continued on until he heard more echoes of men from around a corner. He waited at it, not daring to look out. There were three of them, close from the sounds of their voices. One with a higher pitched voice spoke, "So what's the point of us sittin' around here anyways? Not like Strange has taken in any visitors since we've come. Not that I mind gold for doin' nothing but sittin' on my ass day in and day out, but you have to wonder why?"

Another spoke, this one had a thicker accent, although Dick did not know where from. "Is' up to Ugo'. He says we stay, we stay. An' we do got guests you dumb mule, member' that lot in the lower levels? The Joker ones that took that Stark brat?"

Now the third one chimed in, his voice more serious in tone than the others. "We aren't supposed to know they are here you bloody fools. Remember what Hugo said? The man that dares says a word of em' gets his ass his own cell. Now shut your traps, and Jerrick you lose, pay up."

Then a shrill, female voice shouted from another doorway. "What are you lot doing? Hugo told you to mind your posts, so get to it!"

The accented man replied, "Why you still talkin' girl? Go bother one of your lil' maids, or kiss Hugo's arse sommore. If you really wann' make his day, I'm sure is' cock could use a good tug."

The high pitched one spoke, "Now, now Mors. Poor little Harley didn't do no wrong, just mindin' her duties. Weren't ya, you nice little sweetling?"

"Well thank you Jerrick, you always were such a charmer. Mors, if you speak to me like that again, I'll tell Hugo and you'll be the one getting a tug of your cock. Maybe he'll feed it to the lizard-lions we keep in the cellars," the girl replied with a rather dark tone in her voice.

Dick heard the sound of wooden chair legs scraping against wood as the men stood. The serious one scoffed before muttering, "Jerrick if you plaid dice half as well as you kissed ass you'd be as rich as Lord Tywin."

"Oh take it easy Michael. You get my gold, I get to kiss some pretty girls' asses. I say we both win," Jerrick laughingly replied. Their voices and footsteps died out as they followed the girl down some far corridor. As Dick readied himself to leave he felt a hand pull back on his shoulder and force him against the wall. Dick's body tensed in fear of being discovered, until his eyes met with Batman's. Then his body tensed for fear of Bruce's wrath.

"I told you to wait there," he growled. Dick tried to smile to alleviate the man's anger over his disobedience. "Well I figured if they were already running in I'd be too late to save you. Did you find them?"

Bruce shook his head in dissent. "No, Strange already moved them. They weren't in the dungeons beneath the castle, nor the ones he showed Ned and I in the western wings. He must've sent them back overseas to Casterly Rock on some smuggler's ship. They may be outside of our reach now. I'm heading for Hugo's solar on the third floor, you return to that roof now."

He began to move before Dick said, "Well since I'm already here and far worse at sneaking than you are, I would most likely be found out on my leave. So I may as well just come with you." Bruce didn't turn back, only grunted in frustration and continued on down the left adjoining corridor. Dick smirked and followed him.

They made their way up a set of stairs to the third floor, dodging past a wandering guard, and finally arriving at Hugo's solar. It was a large oak door with metal slabs bolted across the top and bottom. The handle was a twisted serpent forged of steel with its fangs bared. Bruce opened the door as silently as he could, and the two of them slipped inside. They slunk into the large solar and Bruce closed the door behind them. Immediately Dick's vision was nearly lost in the darkness that shrouded the room. It was a large room with a high, pointed ceiling. A colossal shelf towering at least twenty feet high covered the back wall, filled with tomes, books, and scrolls of all colors and sizes. A desk stood before it, with odd metal contraptions and trinkets littering whatever space was not covered by unrolled pieces of parchment. Three candles stood across its surface, providing the only light into the room as the massive wooden shudders had been pulled across the windows. Bruce moved to behind the desk, as Dick checked the right wall filled with paintings of nighttime landscapes and bloody battles.

"What are we looking for?" Dick asked as he stared at a portrait of Aegon the Conqueror with his dragon, Balerion, looming behind him.

Bruce opened a drawer and traced some fingers over its contents as he replied, "Anything that tells us where he moved them to, or what he is plotting."

Then a voice rang out from the shadowed corner opposite Dick, "I assure you there are no devious schemes scrawled on those parchments, Batman."

Hugo Strange emerged from the shadows, a wide grin on his face. Bruce and Dick in unison drew bat-knives from their belts as they turned to where the sound had come. Hugo raised his hands in disarmament and shook his head. "No, no I intend you no harm. I knew you would come, I did not know when, but I knew it was an inevitability. I am a foreigner in your home land, an invader, and of course that makes you distrust me. Well I have nothing to hide Batman, as you can plainly see."

"Where did you move them?" Bruce grunted. "I know they were here, where did you put them?"

"Ah the Joker's men? I sent them by ship to Casterly Rock to receive Lord Tywin's justice. I pray you don't mind, there will doubtlessly be more in the coming months until we find the Joker. Oh where are my manners? Good evening Batman and Robin, my name is Hugo Strange. I am but a humble servant of my lord, Tywin Lannister. He graciously allows me to study these criminals before I hand them over to be dealt the king's justice, for I find them most fascinating. But you…you are the gem in the sea of sand," Hugo Strange finished as he came to stand opposite Bruce on the other side of the desk.

"Why me?"

"Because you represent something. Lord Tywin only seeks for power and renown, thinking they will give his life purpose. King Robert loved the thrill of the kill, but now only finds joy in a glass of wine. Eddard Stark has his honor, the Red Viper has his daughters and love for blood, Tyrion Lannister has his whores, and you have your drive. That immeasurable flame that burns within you, pushing you past the limits that bind ordinary men. You are truly an impeccable specimen of man," he stated, sounded overly entranced.

Bruce said nothing for a few moments. Then he returned his knives to his belt and walked to the door. Dick followed suit and without a word they left the man smiling in his solar. They followed their path back and out across the bridge to their horses in a side alley. The ride back to the cave was quiet, Bruce clearly thinking over what he had seen and witnessed, and changing his plans. When they entered the cavern entrance to the maze of tunnels, Bruce spoke. "Whoever he is, he's dangerous. Nigma is intelligent, but Hugo has to be the true mastermind behind these ploys."

"What if he was telling the truth? He just sent those men up to Casterly Rock to face Tywin's wrath instead of yours? Since he thought they were Joker's men and all," Dick proposed.

Bruce continued facing forward as they steered their horses right through a narrower tunnel. "No, when I was in the dungeons I found a particular set of tools. Metal poles wound into a screw with a pointed edge, racks, sickles, chains, lashes and whips…all bloodied. No, they tortured those men thoroughly. Whatever secrets they hid, Strange found." The last few minutes of their ride were silent once more. The tunnels were dark, practically impossible to see through for those whose eyes were not use to the darkness. Bruce navigated them like a master.

As they reached the end of their journey, and saw the torchlight glow upon the stone as they entered the mouth of the tunnel into the cave, Bruce called out. "Lucius, we have an arduous problem!"

When they rode into the cave however, it was not the Summer Islander that greeted them. A man stood at the cave's center, but his skin was a fair white and dark black hair covered his scalp and lower face in bushy curls. He wore a plain wool tunic and breaches, with a large sack over his right shoulder. Bruce dismounted at once, rolling to the floor, and coming up with a handful of his knives. Dick followed suit, an escrima stick in one hand, two bat-knives in the other.

They were close enough to see the man was also rather tall, and had a broad chest and shoulders. He had light blue eyes, with a lightly dimpled chin. A gold chain hung around his neck and dipped beneath his tunic. The stranger took a step forward and Dick reacted recklessly and impulsively. He let his two knives fly at their unexpected guest, and before Bruce could turn to scold him, something unexpected happened.

The stranger held up a hand as if to stop the knives. The bladed points reached his hand, but rather than stab into the soft flesh, they bounced back, as if they were slapping against a stone wall. Two small cuts remained when the knives flew back, but were much shallower wounds than they should have been. Dick stood with his mouth agape. I know what I saw, that was no illusion or magic or dream. His hand deflected those knives…

Before Dick could right himself, he heard a ringing echo from where Bruce stood. The knives had slipped from Bruce's fingers, clattering to the cave floor. He stood with his eyes wide and white, his mouth a thin line of caution. Before either of them had time to respond, the stranger spoke, "My apologies, I did not mean to have a first encounter as…ambiguous as this. I was merely here in an attempt to befriend you, not frighten you into attacking me."

Bruce finally found the words to speak. "Who are you, and how did you find this place? And…"

The stranger predicted Bruce's final question. "What was that which you just witnessed? Yes, well…we all have our secrets, don't we Lord Wayne?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed, "Where are Alfred and Lucius, what have you done with them?"

The man smiled. "They are unharmed. Alfred sits in your father's study, reading, Lucius asleep in his chambers on the second floor."

"If Alfred is in the study, how did you find your way here? And how did you know who I am if you didn't enter through the castle?"

The man took three paces forward, dropping his sack to the floor. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you m'lord."

"Try me," Bruce responded with a growl.

"Very well, I can see through your helmet. Just as I can see through this cave's roof and up into the castle above." The man turned his gaze upward and looked as if he were merely inspecting the dangling cave fangs piercing down from the roof. "Your servant is reading the Tales of Brandon the Builder, while Lucius is, as I said, sleeping peacefully in his bed."

"How can you see these things? Even if I were to believe you can see through walls and steel, Lucius must be at least a hundred and a half feet above us. Your eyes would need to be as good as a hawk's," Bruce factually stated. Dick couldn't tell whether he believed the stranger's tales or not.

"Ah yes, well as I said, we all have our secrets. I can see through walls, I have the eyes of a hawk, metal cannot pierce my skin very easily, and I am rather strong. Now as to how I can do these things, that will require a…longer explanation," the stranger finished with a sincere smile. He is a cheery man. He doesn't seem to be lying.

"Your name," Bruce calmly demanded.

"Well m'lord, you surely strike me as the type that does not appreciate surprises such as my arrival. I know I may seem mysterious but-"

Bruce interrupted, "You were raised lowborn, but you, yourself are not. You instinctually call me m'lord while nobler folk would say my lord. You don't carry yourself like a lowborn though. For you stand tall, and match eyes with not only someone you know to be a lord but a helmeted vigilante as well. You have no discernible accent, but you sound as if you are from Westoros. Your skin is too fair to be from Essos, so your name could hold a clue. Your tunic is stained with sweat, and yet your skin is still a fair shade of white, you don't tan. That's not a characteristic of any breed of man that I am familiar with."

The stranger's brow raised in surprise. "I withdraw my statement about my mysterious nature. Little wonder why none of the criminals of this city get the best of you. My name however will not help you. I was taken in by a couple when I was too young to remember. They are from the Riverlands, a little speck of a village named Smallville. They told me they found me on the bank of the river that the forks converge into as it pours out into the saltsea in the Bay of Crabs. They named me Clark and said that the only thing I had with me when they found me was this." He raised a hand to the golden chain about his neck and pulled on it. As it lifted free of the tunic, Bruce and Dick could see the odd emblem at its end.

It was pentagonal, with a flat top that branched out in two smaller sides at angles, before turning inward into a longer point. A curved, emboldened "S" stood within the golden crest, reflecting the torchlight radiantly like no gold Dick had ever seen. "What does that sigil stand for?" Bruce asked.

Clark smiled. "I don't know any more than you do, unfortunately."

Alfred: Chapter 20

When Dick had told Alfred of what was waiting for him in the cave, he could scarcely believe it. A man with skin nearly impenetrable by steel, able to look through walls, or helmets… The fact that this complete stranger now knew Bruce's secret could prove troublesome down the road. If this was no mummer's trick, and this man truly did have these abilities, he could take Westoros singlehandedly.

As Alfred followed down the pathway and entered into the cave, he saw the strange sight. There, standing a few feet from Bruce, was this Clark. His hands were raised, his shirt removed, and Bruce was inspecting his chest. The young lord had removed his helmet and armor, and now wore only is black leather breeches and a wool tunic. He was using the edge of his knife to cut along different parts of the stranger's torso, trying to draw blood. When Alfred grew closer, he could see cuts along the hips, arms, and back were shallowly bleeding, while Bruce's attempts across his chest and abdomen were merely thin red lines.

"Master Bruce…is it necessary to be torturing our newest guest?"

Bruce did not stir his gaze from the stranger's chest, as he tried to inflict another cut just above his nipple. "Alfred, meet Clark Kent."

Clark smiled and held out a hand for Alfred to shake. "Alfred, how do you do? Did you enjoy your book?"

"H-how did you know I was reading? And Master Bruce must you torture the man?" Alfred questioned, unsure of whether to believe this stranger truly could see through objects. This must be some form of dark magic.

The stranger chuckled, "Oh my apologies, I saw through the roof of the cave. Brandon the Builder was a truly great man, or so my father told me when he read me stories as a boy. And fret not, as you can plainly see, and as I'm sure the boy told you, yes, my skin is harder than most."

Bruce interjected, "All, even those with Grayscale. Their skin grows hard like stone but chips and crumbles away like slate. Your skin…"

"Can be inflicted so long as I remain without the warming rays of the sun, or so I've found," Clark finished.

"Out of the sun? So you do have a weakness after all," Bruce finished as he stood and returned to his desk. "Yes, more than one. The sun, heals me somehow, makes it so that not even a crossbow bolt could pierce my skin at close range. Valyrian steel however, has proved to wound me whether I'm under the sun or not. Can I put my tunic back on now?" He asked as he took up his garment from the cave floor.

"So you have the strength of an ox, can see through walls, have skin resistant to any normal weaponry, and yet you do not try to take over the kingdom? Why come here?" Bruce asked, ignoring Clark's question. Yes, a man with the powers of a god, and yet he walks amongst us as one of us…

Clark slipped his tunic over his head and walked over to the desk where Bruce stood sifting through vials of different colored liquids. When he had a corked tube of a green glowing mixture in hand, he closed the drawer and returned to Clark's side. He uncorked the vial and dripped a few drops onto Clark's outstretched hand. After a minute of observing to no avail, he returned the vial to its place in his desk.

"So uh, what was that supposed to show, ser? Nothing happened." Clark asked as he rubbed the spot where the liquid had kissed his skin.

"Exactly. To plain skin, mine, Alfred, King Robert's, it would have stained violet. Yours however, remained unaffected. I've…never encountered that before, but you failed to answer my question. What brings you here, if not to conquer?"

Alfred waited with Bruce as Clark formed his response. "My father always raised me to see the good in man. He knew I would always be different, from the other boys in my youth or the other men in my adulthood. But he always stressed that I needed to stand strong, remain above the vices that strangle other men. He raised me to be not only virtuous, but that with my powers I must learn to control them, and never use them for harm. He said they were a gift from the gods, and that the gods do not grant miracles upon regular folk. I must be something special, part of something grand in the eyes of the gods. My parents raised me to test the limits of my abilities, and to never use them to step on other men. I do not wish to rule, nor would I ever. They told me that I must keep who I am, and what I can do, a secret. Much as you have done. That is why I traveled here once I heard of you, I knew you would understand."

He sounds like quite the prodigal son. Honor-bound, shining, hopeful, everything Bruce is not it would seem. Alfred looked to his lord, seeing the confusion evident in Bruce's expression. Yesterday, despite how dark the world was, it was simple. Men were ordinary, needed weapons to kill another, were able to be killed by another. Now however, everything would change. As soon as the world learned of what this man could do, and that he was in Gotham, the armies of Westoros would be at Gotham's gate within a week. The world was barely ready for Batman, I can only imagine how they would react to this man.

Lucius and Dick now walked down the pathway to where they stood. While Dick lingered behind Alfred, Lucius marched right up to the stranger and greeted him with a smile and handshake. "So you're this mystery man? Must say, it's a pleasure."

Clark returned the smile. "Lucius, enjoy your nap?"

The Summer Islander chuckled, "Why yes I did, but my dreams were nowhere near as interesting as what I was woken up to. Care for a drink?"

The man nodded and Lucius walked to his corner and returned with a bottle of Dornish red and some glasses. He poured each of them a glass and clinked their glasses together. "To the world growing ever larger," Lucius said as he grinned and drank.

Now Alfred spoke, "Where do you come from, ser?"

Clark turned to look upon Alfred. His eyes were warm, and his smile was inviting and sincere. This man is no conqueror. "I am told Bruce traveled the world for quite a long while before returning to this city as Batman. Well, I carried out a similar mission, I suppose. Bruce was a hurt, angry orphan that left with a desire to find purpose in what had happened, to find the means to combat the darkness that shrouds this city, correct? Well, I left…out of purposelessness. I knew not what my purpose was here, or anywhere for the matter. When my parents died, I felt alone. I didn't have a purpose to save my city such as you did, Bruce. I wished to help people, but my father always feared that, with my abilities, I would inspire more terror than hope in people. I wandered the world lost, scared, unsure of where to go or who to turn to. I was a smith's apprentice for a while, I traveled with a mummer's show as a beast tamer, then I became a sailor for a long while until I heard of you when we made port in Pentos."

"And what help do you require from me?" Bruce asked. Not touching his wine, he instead deciding to open a large scroll. A map of Westoros and Essos was scratched onto it in multicolored ink.

"What did you do when you discovered your purpose? Did it give you clarity?" Clark asked. This man is as confused as Bruce was as a boy…

"It gave me nothing, for I had already lost everything. Knowing what I must do did not give me what I had lost back, only a way to strive forward and ensure that it never happened again. Not in my city," Bruce stated sternly to the stranger.

Clark looked almost disappointed. "That is what I was afraid of. If I do find my purpose, what if it gives me nothing, and I still feel this…apart, from everything else."

Lucius stepped to Bruce. "Are you sure we can trust this man? Who says he isn't simply lying, a mummer or dark sorcerer, or maybe a spy?"

Alfred cleared his throat and spoke, "I trust him."

Everyone turned and looked at Alfred in surprise. Clark smiled and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you Alfred, you are most kind."

Bruce walked to his servant's side and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure we can trust him, Alfred? He still is a stranger, and one with abilities the likes of which I have never seen." Alfred nodded and whispered back, "I know Master Bruce, but he has this aura about him. He seems to have a very kind, gentle soul."

Clark called out apologetically, "I should have mentioned. I can also hear sounds from afar, leaves rustling in a nearby forest, or even a whisper."

Lucius chuckled at the irony while Bruce sighed. "Very well, if you can trust him, I shall put my faith in him as well. Clark," he said, turning to face their unexpected guest. "You are welcome to stay here until you decide to leave Gotham….but so long as you do stay here…I have a way you can help me. Do that, and I will help you in any way I can."

Harvey: Chapter 3

It had been an eventful day. News had reached King's Landing from the exiled spy Jorah Mormont that the Targaryen girl was pregnant by a powerful Dothraki Khal. In his absolute rage and hatred for the family of dragons, King Robert deemed it fit to hire assassins or reward any man that should kill her with a lordship. Honorable Lord Eddard Stark being the dutiful man he was, had argued vehemently against the order. Harvey knew the two were fast friends, but how radically their views of what was best to secure the kingdom's safety were as contrasting as night and day. They disagreed so violently in fact, that Lord Eddard up and quit his position as Hand of the King. He was to send off on the morrow, returning to his cold castle of Winterfell far up in the North. Harvey would be sad to see him go. He felt a brotherly bond with Jaime, nothing for his sister or the rest of the Small Council, and would attend to King Robert as much as was within his power but never cared overly for the man. He was the king and it was Harvey's duty to serve him. Eddard on the other hand, his dutiful resolve to stay true to his honor and virtues was refreshing, and an aspect Harvey greatly admired in the man.

Harvey gazed out at the night, unable to sleep. His wife was still asleep in bed, her dark auburn hair spread, covering her breasts and pillow. She looked so peaceful in the candlelight. Harvey had met Gilda at an inn in Gotham. Her father was a knight of the Reach, taking her to meet with the Waynes for her to become acquainted with their son. It was a folly of course, the son of the second richest family in Westoros would never wed a plain knight's daughter, and yet so many came to try. They had met in the inn as Harvey's father owned it, and would regularly come to collect his due. The two of them got along quickly, and in their youth she would visit the city a few times each year to see him. Five years ago they were wed, Harvey a respectable eight-and-ten, Gilda two years younger.

She always wished for a child, but was barren, unable to give Harvey an heir. To this day it still troubled her, but Harvey had accepted it. He loved her whether she was fertile or barren as a desert. He said the vows knowing full well the future they would have together, and that was what Harvey wanted. To grow old with her and one day retire to his estate in Gotham City.

Gilda was to remain here during his trek back to his home city, much to her protest. Harvey knew she would be safer here, and dared not risk any harm befalling her. I wonder what Bruce would think of her?

Harvey missed his childhood friend dearly. They had played together since they were babes, and were thick as thieves. Bruce had been there for him when Harvey's mother had died, even despite their young age the boy's consoling was surprising but appreciated. Harvey remembered how heartbroken he had been when his friend, who had helped him through such a difficult time, was put through an even worse affair over a year later. Soon I will see you again old friend, and we can catch up on all of those years lost to us.

The rain was falling down steadily, pattering off the tiles of the rooftops and the wood of the buildings. Harvey lived in one of the cleaner dwellings beside the Red Keep, opting not to live within the castle itself. Despite Harvey's lawful nature and high position, he was still a man of the people. He had befriended nearly everyone on the street in which his home stood. The elderly couple living to the right of his two story wooden apartment, and the baker to his right would always give him a free loaf whenever he saw Harvey pass. The sewing maidens that lived in three of the buildings at the end of the street would always be over, sewing and gossiping away with Gilda. It made him smile to see her so content.

This night the street was quiet, a fog hung overhead as the clouds blackened out the sun and stars. It's almost as if the skies prepare for a storm that isn't even here. The street below was barren and riddled with shadows, most of the torches doused by the rain. One shadow in particular however piqued Harvey's eye, as it was moving. A horse slowly clopped down the cobbled street, the rider too shrouded by the cover of night to make out. Harvey grew weary, until he saw the stranger raise and arm and wave it down.

Harvey grabbed his sword from his desk and proceeded down the stairs to the front door. He cautiously opened it as the rider pulled up. Harvey held up his candle to the rider's face, to see bright green eyes and golden locks of Jaime Lannister beneath the cloak's hood. "Jaime? What are you doing here at this hour?"

Jaime said nothing, only dismounted and stood to meet his friend's gaze. Harvey took note of the panic in his friend's eyes, and the subtle quiver of fear in his lips. "You fool, what have you done?" Was all Harvey could say. Whatever it was, he knew it was serious to shake famed Kingslayer this severely.

"H-his wife took my brother Harvey. What else was I to do?" His friend replied.

"Whose wife? What happened to Tyrion, Jaime?" If he has killed, they will surely hang him.

Jaime swallowed, "Catelyn Stark kidnapped him on the Kingsroad. Little bastard never could watch out for himself without me there to protect him…"

Harvey's blood froze, his heart stopped. "Jaime…what did you do to Ned…"

Jaime shook his head, "I did not harm him. I mean, I would have…my blood was boiling Harvey, my eyes were white with rage. I killed his men, and fought him, but a horse's hoof beat me to the blow and crushed his leg. That seemed to wake me up, and I rode off. I know they'll be hunting for me, so I must take my leave quickly. I just needed to come and say my goodbyes to you first. You know me in a different way even mine own sister is blind to. You know I don't act out of evil will. With Aerys, or even now with Ned. They took my brother Harvey, I must get him back. My father will likely not raise a hand, nor my sister, so it must be me." His heart was set on this fool's mission, Harvey could see that plainly. If he road north to free Tyrion he would only get himself captured, or worse.

"No, you must ride for Casterly Rock. You father will protect you, King Robert wouldn't dare test his forces against those of your lordfather's. Flee there and wait to see what Catelyn intends for your brother. Tyrion has found himself in stickier situations and lived to tell the tale. In another few months we will all be round a table, drinking and laughing over this. Why would Catelyn want Tyrion in the first place?" Harvey had a sneaking suspicion, but he could not be sure.

"Because she blames him for the man that tried to kill her son, while he laid in a coma in his bed. She surely intends harm to him, and I must stop her before my brother grows even shorter by a head," Jaime stated determinedly.

"Your brother has no reason to kill the boy, but…" Harvey trailed off, unable to accuse his friend of conspiring to murder a child.

"I do? Why would I kill a boy, Harvey? Do you think me that cruel?" Jaime feigned offense. Harvey could tell because he had seen Jaime swallow his offense every time someone called him Kingslayer.

"Jaime, I've been your friend for years, tell me the truth of the matter. I can see it weighing down on your conscience," Harvey stated softly. He needed to hear his friend's account of what transpired at Winterfell, to lay more than one worry to rest.

Jaime sighed, "The dagger sent after the boy was not by my hand. I hoped he would never wake. It would have been so much simpler then. The knife was Cersei's doing most likely, although she'd never admit to it."

"Why Jaime, why would you and Cersei want the boy killed? What was there to gain?" There is no other option, it must be…

Jaime suddenly dropped his vulnerable expression and took up a stern gaze at his friend. "Well judging by your persistence, I'm assuming you know very well why."

That is like to be the most definitive answer I get from him. "I never cared what was going on between you and your sister, Jaime. You are a good man, and a good friend. We have trusted each other with much and more over the years, and I pray you find your way safely to Casterly Rock. You are like a brother to me, my friend."

Jaime placed a hand on Harvey's shoulder and squeezed gently. His eyes were pits of wildfire in the torchlight, emotions waging war with themselves within. "I tell you this because I trust you, friend. Should you run to King Robert with this information, well I would hate to have yet another enemy in this world. The Seven know I have enough as it is."

He trusts me greatly to tell me such incriminating truths. But do I protect my friend, an attempted child-killer, father to incestuous children, lover of a blood sister? Where is the fairness in that? Harvey felt his father's coin grow twenty times heavier in his pocket. "I know my friend, and do not worry, this shall remain between us. I cannot condone your actions, but you are my friend through and through. Now go, you need as much time as you can get."

Jaime slowly nodded before giving Harvey one last pat on his shoulder. He turned and grabbed the horse's saddle. Before he could mount, Harvey called to him, "The Stark boy didn't fall, did he?"

Jaime's shoulders slumped, his head bowed down. Wordlessly he mounted his horse and grabbed hold of the reins, donning his hood once more. He turned the horse to face Harvey one last time, "Have a good night, my friend." Jaime Lannister turned his horse once more and rode off down the street at a hastened pace. Goodbye, my friend, may your time away from this city give your mind and soul clarity and peace.