Hello all! It's been three months since I finished uploading GoT: House of Wayne, and while I'm still not ready to start uploading COK I've finished the prologue and decided to upload it to give you guys something to think over while I keep working on COK. One thing I will say about COK is it won't be uploaded as regularly as GOT was because I'm just really busy now but I will do what I can. Things I can say to look forward to is finding out what happens to Batman, more Deathstroke, Joker being Joker, and some very important faces from Asoiaf coming into play. Saying that, enjoy and I'll be back soon!

A CLASH OF KINGS: THE HOUSE OF WAYNE

Prologue:

It's up to you now. Her father's words echoed through her head.

It had been six years since his death, but with each day she felt his absence more. The world was in chaos now, and it could use the Batman now more than ever.

The second horn blew. They were here. Death had finally descended upon Gotham.

The first to fall was Winterfell. Burned to the ground, the once noble fortress had been easy to overtake. She remembered how the castle used to look. The last time she had laid eyes on it had been a lifetime ago. But she remembered, she remembered the feel of the cold air blowing through her hair, the way the cages smelled when the kennelmaster had not cleaned them in a month, and she remembered the snow.

Riverrun and the Eeyrie fell not long after the Twins were taken. King's Landing had fought for near a month before it too was undone. King Joffrey and his wife Queen Margery were rumored to be dead, but other rumors insisted they had fled across the Narrow Sea before the walls fell. Gotham was one of the last strongholds to stand. A month past, they had received word that Storm's End continued to withstand the onslaught, but no word had been heard since. Highgarden was surely destroyed, as was Starling Point and Oldtown.

The third horn blew, and she knew at long last, the White Walkers had arrived at Gotham.

"Men, to arms!" She heard a familiar old, gruff voice roar.

Parting the crowd, she made her way to its source. His head had long since lost its fiery orange hair, the silver white hair of an old man took up its place upon his scalp. His moustache had not been trimmed in some time, and now grizzled fuzz coated his jawline.

"Ser Gordon," she addressed.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would arrive," the old knight replied with a grunt.

"A bit old to be barking orders are you not?"

Gordon waved a hand, "My wife was always better at it. Since she's not here, I guess I'll do. You, secure that beam!"

She followed him as they walked through the streets, checking every support beam, making sure every man was armored, and every blade sharpened.

Gordon stopped after a minute and sighed. He didn't turn to face her, merely spoke loud enough so only she could hear. "I can't tell you how many times each day I miss him."

Her expression grew bereaved for a moment before she recovered her stoic mask. "You are not alone."

"No, but since Nightwing died in King's Landing. Robin's not to be heard of either. The Question, Flash, Superman, Green Arrow, Batgirl…." His voice trailed off at the last name. "All of them dead…" He finished.

"You have my condolences for your daughter…" She continued.

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. Odds are, this night I'll be joining her. I'm seven-and-sixty now. Can't much swing a sword, certainly can't fight like I used to. But I'll be damned if I leave this life without taking a hundred of those shits with me."

At that moment a surprisingly calm voice chimed out from behind them, "That's why I'm here!"

Jaime Lannister worked his way through the crowd of bustling bodies to stand before them. His head was shaven bald, but a thick rough beard covered his jaw. A scar traced from the crown of his reflective head down over his eye to hide beneth his beard. The eye was painted over white, but the faint ghostly blue of his pupil still stared at them. The knight stood before them in the honored armor of the Commander of the King's Guard. The armor had lost its white, pristine glow, and was now battle scarred and dulled.

"Ser Jaime, are you ready?" Gordon asked.

"Oh I've waited a long time to die Gordon, but I would outlast you I think," the once branded Kingslayer japed back. Gordon smirked. "Aye, well if you died before this old husk of a body, I would think you'd suffer an eternity of shame in the afterlife for it."

Jaime chuckled as he continued on his way towards the city wall.

Gordon turned to face her. "So this is man's last stand. Our hope lies with you, Batwoman."

Her gloved hand tightened into a fist. The golden bat symbol across her chest shone in the moonlight with the all the fire her soul possessed. She had taken up her father's mantle, and would defend his city until her last breath.

A voice called out from behind them, "All set, Gordon."

She turned to find Selina Kyle walking down the street with a mob of thugs behind her. Her raven dark hair now had streaks of white through it, and her once provocative black leather suit was gone in place of an armored, boiled leather one.

"Penguin has the Northern gate covered. Scarecrow and Dent should be arriving soon with their own forces." Her eyes had crow's feet at their edges, but she still kept the beauty she held more than twenty years ago.

Selina turned to face Batwoman. "Ready to fight the undead?" She quipped.

Batwoman nodded. "All things must die."

There was a call from above, followed by thousands of flaming arrows being flung into the sky. Every man stopped their rustling for a moment, realizing the weight of this moment. Gotham had been called the last salvation for Westoros, and now its siege had truly begun.

Gordon spat. "Well, I've long since outlived my date with the Stranger. What about you lot? Are you prepared for what is to come?" He shouted.

Hundreds of men raised their weapons and shouted. Gordon turned to Batwoman and nodded. "Tonight! We lay down our lives, we wield our swords and spears, and we combat the darkness of death itself! Tonight we die not to be remembered in song, or to show those undead husks they have something to fear. NO! Tonight we die to tell the whole world, to tell every last man, woman, and child. That Gotham will not go quietly into the dark of night. No. This is no mortal city built for mortal men. This is the city that Batman, savior of man, called home. Tonight we honor his spirit, tonight we honor Bruce Wayne! We will not go quietly into the night, for WE ARE THE NIGHT!" Gordon roared, echoing the words of the House of Wayne.

First, hundreds shouted, then tens of hundreds, soon thousands shouted. The entirety of Gotham's defenders, and its people, called out into the night. Shouting, banging their shields, stomping their boots, all roaring back at the darkness surrounding them to show that they were not afraid. That Gotham and its people were creatures of the night.

The arrows continued to fly, but that did not stop the onslaught. Within minutes, loud thuds could be heard against the thick steel gates of Gotham's wall. No man ran. Every last man, woman, even a few boys, all took up their weapons, pointing them directly at the gates.

In a few moments, minutes, an hour if they were lucky, those gates would break. Hell would descend upon Gotham. All of them knew there was no surviving. The creatures could be killed with fire, but no amount of fire in the world had a hope of stopping the sheer amount of wights knocking on Gotham's gates. Their numbers must be in the hundreds of thousands, probably more.

A man cried from above in a voice gripped with fear. "The mammoths are breaking through! The mammoths are breaking through!"

Soon enough, dents began to hammer through the gate. These creatures were undead, so they could not feel pain. They would bash on the gate until their skulls were splintered shells, and they would not stop even then.

Gordon turned back to Batwoman one last time. "It is an honor to die with you-"

Before he could finish, a bright white light blinded her, snuffing her senses. Her eyes burned, and her skin felt as if it were about to melt. She collapsed to the floor, gripping her face in pain. Within a moment, the pain was gone, as if it had been a trick played by her mind.

She put a hand to the ground to lift herself up, but noticed the dark, slate stone of Gotham's streets were no longer beneath her. It was grass. Thick, dry grass.

Her eyes opened and the bright light of the sun blinded her. Just moments ago she had been in Gotham, in the chilling winds of winter under the calm light of the moon. Now she sat upon a grassy hill in the warmth of summer with a bright sun staring down at her.

How is this possible…

"It isn't," a voice calmly responded.

She turned around, to find a stranger standing beneath the shade of a tree. The stranger was dressed in the oddest armor she had ever seen. His helmet was smooth and flat in the front. His armor was golden, and reflected so vividly it was if she was staring into the most tranquil of ponds. Beneath his queer armor was some dark blue cloth she did not recognize, and a flowing golden cape flew behind him in the gentle breeze. His eyes burned white, as if they were aflame.

"Then how am I here?" Batwoman asked.

"By my will, I have brought you here," he replied with a cold, distant voice.

"Why?"

The stranger stepped into the sun, the reflecting light nearly blinding her for a third time. "Your world was doomed. In your timeline, man had lost, and the White Walkers had won. Your death would have been in vain, A-"

"That isn't my name anymore," she quickly cut him off.

"Apologies, Batwoman. But you are needed here more."

She drew her sword from her belt and growled, "You left Gordon and the whole of Gotham to die without me? You make me the lone survivor when I was prepared to die with them? That was my home. They needed me!"

"As I said, you are needed here more. Anger will get you very little in life, Batwoman. Rather than question how your previous fate should have ended, choose to question why your fate has been rewritten."

She turned back to gaze upon the forest that unfolded beneath the hill they stood upon. "And where is here?"

He moved to stand beside her. "Westoros. Not your Westoros, but one similar. Joffrey sits upon the throne, Lord Eddard Stark remains dead, and the entire kingdom remains blind to the threat you are very conscious of."

"Lord Stark is…still dead?" She asked, growing more solemn being told of the tragedy for the second time in her lifetime.

"Yes, but Bruce Wayne still lives."

She turned, her eyes widened in shock. "Bruce is alive?"

Not turning to face her, the queer stranger nodded. "Yes, as do Richard Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Sansa Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, so many you once cared for. All of them remain very much alive, but their fates are not the same as they were in your time. You have not been brought back to save all of them, or alter the you from this timeline's fate either. You have been brought here for a very specific purpose."

Breathing deeply, trying to find a grasp on all of these seemingly impossible words. "And what purpose is that."

At last her savior turned to face her. "The one that your adopted father was tasked with. To save the world, Arya Stark."