The Demon's Daughter:

"Master Illyrio, how do you fare?"

The old, fat man bowed in her presence. "Very well, Lady Talia. As always my pockets are heavy with coin and my people bright with happiness."

She raised her brow. "And?"

"Your men are being moved as we speak. The League of Shadows has come so very far since your father's tragic death. It lifts spirits to see the empire rebuilt so strongly."

"I am my father's child after all," Talia Al Ghul finished as she entered Illyrio Mopatis' manse. The man was untrustworthy at best, but he had proven to be a valuable resource. With his fingers dipped in every pool both moral and criminal on the westward coast of Essos, Talia had used him to secure her men in every city along the sea quickly and quietly. But it was not this obese, bearded man she wished to see, but someone of immeasurable value.

As she passed through another massive entrance way, Illyrio cleared his throat. Irritated, Talia turned to see what the fat man desired.

"What do you wish? More gold? More wine? What? We have given you enough, to not press your fortune, ser," Talia politely threatened.

"No it is not on my account my lady. A week ago we were greeted with…an unexpected guest," the large man sighed.

"Guest? Who?"

"Allow me to show you."

Illyrio led Talia through a hallway at the far end of the hall, through there they passed under another gateway until they were in a courtyard at the heart of the Magistrate's manse.

There an old man stood in a dusty brown traveler's cloak in the courtyard's center. He was staring at a pair of trees that had grown so closely together that their branches intertwined as they reached up to the warming embrace of the sun.

"This is why you have delayed me? Some old fool?" Talia was prepared to order Illyrio's arm to be cut off when the old man turned and greeted her with a warm smile.

His hair clung flatly to his scalp, but his pearly white beard had grown longer and its curls covered the better part of the man's neck. He did not stand hunched over and decrepit as most old men stood. Rather, he had a strong stance, that of a warrior.

"Who are you?" She ordered.

The old man bowed. "I was but a humble servant of my king. For years I protected him, more than one in fact. I took up my sword against those that threatened him, and I wore my cloak proudly to show my loyalty to him. Then, my king died, and his son cast me out. He said my only fault was my age. The boy did not care if I had skill, or was loyal, he merely sough youth, thinking it brought what was needed to make a good warrior. The foolish boy will die with such thoughts in his head. Long ago, I made a grave mistake, one that I would see righted."

Talia's brow piqued in curiosity. "Go on."

"There is a girl, far to the east. Daenerys Targaryen. I would go to her, to give council and aid. To be the first of her Queensguard, should she have me. She is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and I will give my life to protect her. As I should have done from the start," the old man finished, his face showed clear sorrow but his figure remained steadfast and strong.

"Ser Barristan the Bold. Rumored to be the greatest swordsman in any kingdom. Why do you seek my aid? And hide who you are? A man with your renown would easily be able to track the girl yourself," Talia commented as she entered the courtyard and sat on a bench. She patted the spot next to her, bidding Barristan to sit beside her.

With a heavy sigh, Barristan sat. "I had heard that Magistrate Illyrio had sold her into marriage with a Dothraki Khal. If she has given up hope for her family returning to the Iron Throne, I will return her to her rightful fate."

"My spies tell me her beloved husband has passed into the afterlife, along with their child. But she has new children to tend to."

Barristan stared at her with uneasy eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand my lady."

"She has not three mortal children, but three young dragons."

The old knight's eyes lit up in amazement and shock, finally understanding her meaning. "D-dragons? How? They have been absent from the world for centuries."

"That is information you need not know, Ser Barristan. But if you wish to go to the young Targaryen's side, I have an agreement to share with you. I will help you find the young girl, give you a ship, a crew, a wise captain who knows the waters you will tread, and even added guard in case you should run into pirates. In return, I have a request of you," she posed to him as she stood. "Follow me, if you would."

Ser Barristan followed Talia back into the manse and down the nearing corridor. They went on through another long hall, with close doors lining its walls. Behind the sounds of pleasure could be heard escaping from the lips of men and women. Passing through another corridor adjoining it, they passed dozens of men gathering swords and other weapons and placing them in travel sacks.

"My lady, you never gave word to what you would have of me in return for your kindness and supplies," Barristan whispered as they passed two large men sharpening axes.

"Because I would rather show you, Ser Barristan."

They came to the end of the hall, where two tall steel doors rose from the floor to the ceiling above. She turned to face her guest, smiling and giving a deep bow.

"Ser Barristan, the greatest swordsman in Westoros, or any kingdom. Behind this door is the task I would ask of you. You may say no, and find your own way to the girl you wish to serve so passionately. Or you may agree, and I will give you whatever aid I can," Talia said as she returned to standing up right.

"How old are you Ser Barristan?"

The old knight's brow piqued at the unexpected question. "Eight-and-fifty my lady. What is behind that door?"

Talia knocked once on the steel door and within moments it was pulled apart. On the other side two colossi of men stood at each side, the two responsible for pulling the massive door apart. As Talia led Barristan into the large chamber, the sound of steel ringing against steel could be heard below. They walked forward until they came to the edge of a balcony overlooking a courtyard below. A roof still stood above them, and a thick wall wrapped around the indoor arena below them.

The small arena was floored in sand, and was at least forty paces in diameter. At its center, a large, thick man flung a greatsword around as he fought his opponent. Talia did not look to Barristan to know how he would react at the sight of the other combatant.

As the man brought his greatsword down into the sand, missing his target again, his opponent kicked up off the floor and brought his dagger straight into the man's neck. As the man collapsed into the sand with blood spewing from the wound and coating the sands below him, his killer rested a foot atop his chest in victory. His killer was not even half his height, and weighed at least eight stones less. The boy wore no armor as his opponent had, with only boiled leather breeches covering his legs. He had received a shallow cut to his side, but besides that stood untouched. His thick unruly black hair spiked up from his scalp like two mountain ranges crashing together. His steely blue eyes reflected the power, determination, and cunning of his father.

"Damian, come here," Talia called out to the boy below.

The boy ran to the arena wall, kicking off it with his feet and flipping in midair to land on its flat top. He walked over to where they stood on the balcony and bowed. "Mother."

"Damian, my love, you fared well against your opponent. Next time, do not let his blade kiss your skin so foolishly," Talia replied with a loving smile.

"Yes, mother." Damian looked up. "You missed my name day."

Talia knelt and brought her hand up to cup her son's cheek. "I know, my love. Apologies, my business overseas ran longer than I thought it would. Did Illyrio throw the celebrations in my stead as I had asked?"

"Yes, but you know what gift I want more than some ancient sword or a tiger to be kept in a cage. I want to know who my father is," the boy ordered with a tone that would kill any man that dared use it with Talia Al Ghul. But she smiled and combed her fingers through her son's hair. "Yes, my love, I know. I shall make you a deal. On each of your name days from this day forth, you and I shall dual. If you defeat me, I will tell you your father's name. Is that acceptable?"

Knowing the boy would not get a better deal, he nodded his head. "You are such a wise boy. Now go have that wound looked at by the healer, and prepare for supper."

The boy bowed and ran off. Talia stood, and turned to face the old knight.

"How old is that boy?"

"He turned five just a few weeks ago," Talia replied with a smile.

"F-five? How is that possible? Your son is a killer at such an age, and I've never seen a boy so tall at five…" Barristan trailed off.

"I love my son more than anything in this world, Ser Barristan. I have not asked you to question how I raise him or what he is, but I ask of you to train him. Teach him your ways with a sword, make him as great of a swordsman as you were in your youth. If you do that for me, I will do everything within my power to assist you in finding Danaerys Targaryen."

The old man thought silently for a minute, before slowly returning Talia's gaze and nodding.

Joker: Chapter 1

"A baby, wait no, ten babies. No limbs, well that's just queer. And why are they tearing their eyes out?"

"And this one?"

"Ohhhhhh, hmmmm, I see a cow. Wait no, that's my mother, oh the difference is only slight. She's being raped, by at least, a dozen Lannister soldiers. Well that's odd, perhaps I killed all those Lannisters because they raped my mother when I was a boy?" Joker questioned jestingly.

Hugo Strange sighed, "Joker, you are to tell me what you see in these ink blots upon the parchment. You aren't to turn this into a game and make jokes."

Joker leaned back in his chair and smiled. "You name me a liar? Why, I've never lied in my life, well except for that one time when I told you I saw my mother being raped in your little ink blots. Andd that other time I told you I saw babies tearing their eyes out in your ink blots. But you must cut me some slack Strange, I've been locked up here for soo long!"

Pulling on his bonds while frowning was a way to further prove his point. Since his arrival to the newly founded Arkham Asylum, Joker had been chained at the ankles and hands for each passing moment. When meeting with Strange or any other guard, he was also dressed in a heavy and constricting boiled leather garment that pulled his arms tight to his figure. He could barely breathe for the length of their sessions, but it still brought such joy to him to torment his captors.

"Very well, I think we are done for today," Hugo finished with a thin smile.

"Gratitude! Now get this thing off of me!" Joker cried with joy as he stood.

The guards led him back to his cell, where the delight of his day stood waiting. Harleen Quinzel was a simple girl. She wasn't overly bright, just as Joker liked them, but was a warming, welcoming soul in this dark pit.

"Ser J! How did your session with Warden Strange go?" She asked with the whimsical tone of a young girl.

Strange had brought on several girls to bring food to the prisoners and make the Asylum more welcoming and caring. All of them wore plain white servant's dressings. They were never allowed direct contact with any prisoners, for they wouldn't last very long if they did.

Since Joker had been brought here, Hugo had acquired another century of prisoners to fill his cells. Murderers, rapers, even some souls driven mad, all came to call this place home. None were as menacing as Joker though. He was Hugo Strange's prize possession and head trophy. The rest were simple criminals. Simple minds, simple goals. Joker however, was of a much higher breed.

"It went terribly well! Made some real progress today, I think I'm beginning to see the error of my ways!" He cooed to the girl.

As she turned to watch him led into the cell, Joker watched her comely face and flowing blond hair trail his every move. "Oh Harley dear, be a sweetling and fetch me some water would you?"

"Of course Ser J, just a moment!"

The girl went bouncing off down the hall with a joyful kick in her step.

"You're a freak Joker, leave the poor girl alone," one of the guards growled as they threw Joker into the lone chair in his cell.

Joker brushed his hair back with his chained hands as he feigned ignorance. "Why, whatever do you mean Thompson? Are you saying I have some plan for the girl in mind? But I'm locked up here? You lot are the ones with the power and control, not I."

The guards shook their heads and stood at the entrance to his cell. It was a small thing, ten paces long and a dozen or so paces wide. It was the largest of the cells in Arkham, a gift from Warden Strange. There was a cot, and an old chair that was like to break soon, and a rusted old pot in the corner for pissing and shitting.

The girl came rushing back with her water, and gave it to the guard. "Here you are Ser J!" She chimed.

"Oh thank you Harley! What a kind soul you are."

When he had first arrived she had referred to him simply as Joker. In time though, she called him ser, and soon enough was calling him Ser J. The other women dare not speak to him, but here he had this poor soul on a string around his finger. She was a classic example of a mindless sheep. So easy to make submit, even without much effort to try.

The girl wandered off soon after, as did the guards. Guards were posted at the end of hall, as it was the only way into Joker's lonely corridor. No other prisoners were near him, and the corridor stretched forty paces long. He had a floor to himself.

A shadow moved to his left, and Joker realized he may not have it to himself after all.

"Yooo hooooooo!" He chimed, the call echoing down the hall. "You can show yourself dearie, I won't lift a finger to harm you. Truth be told, I can't! Hohoheheee…"

Soon the figure emerged from the shadows, but it was not the figure Joker had hoped. It had been so long since he had last seen Batman, he had hoped the Dark Knight would have paid him a visit.

Instead, this figure wore a dark blue overcoat with a pale yellow doublet underneath. A pointed hat with a rounded back topped his head, but most interestingly, his face was missing. No eyes, mouth, nose, not even a pimple or pockmark graced the smooth flesh.

"Well, you're not what I was expecting," Joker chuckled as he pressed his face between the iron bars of his cell.

"Joker…" The figure said in a cold, calm voice. It was akin to Batman's, the deliberation and care taken with each word spoken. This voice however was not as grizzled or dark as the voice Batman used to disguise his true voice. This voice sounded like an echo, an echo that gave a slight chill to one's spine.

"Visitor…" Joker echoed back mockingly, only much louder.

The figure turned back to make sure the guards had not heard and come forward.

"Let your mind rest at ease, they've been ordered not to leave their positions unless a direct order is given, or they hear me breaking out. They hear me talking to myself all the time! What else do I have to do around here?"

The figure turned back to face Joker. Joker studied the stranger's expressionless face before giggling. "Nice mask you have there. What's the face underneath it look like?"

The stranger replied, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Joker broke out into uncontrollable laughter at the witty remark. "Oh that's good! Unfortunately mine is a rather undoable asset."

"As is mine."

Joker nodded, wedging his face further between the bars. His lips and skin were pulled taught as he pushed his face through. The bars pressed tightly against his temples, and he could feel his eyelids pulled back. He must look even more gruesome than usual.

"So what do you want? You're the first visitor I've had in this place."

The faceless stranger stared into Joker's eyes, or mouth, or nose, he couldn't tell. "You know what's beneath King's Landing. Tell me."

Ohhhhh he's privy to some of the long forgotten secrets of this world as well.

"Let us say I did, what concern is it of yours?"

"It is not my concern, it is for the good of the kingdom," the stranger replied.

"Oh please, spare me your lies. I can tell it in your voice, you could care less for what happens to these pathetic sheep. Who are you? And why should I tell you?" Joker scoffed. How insulting, he travels all this way only to lie.

"I know your true name."

Joker's brows piqued. "Oh? And what is it? I seem to have forgotten. Never was any good with names."

The stranger leaned in, and whispered one, specific word. Joker's eyes widened in surprise and delight. Oohoohohooooo….this will be fun…

"So you weren't lying. You know my name, what of it? Do you know how I became the man you see before you? How I became this monster?" Joker taunted.

"Is it the tale of your drunken father, mean brothers, the one involving a wolf? No, I know how you became this shade of a man standing before me, and that does not interest me. What does, is what is beneath King's Landing that your map leads to," the stranger continued.

"You know my name, and my history, and even of the existence of the map and the secret, yet you do not know what it is? Hahahahahaha, that's just grand. The blind leading the blind, oh, apologies," Joker teased, noting the stranger's lack of eyes.

After a minute of silence, Joker continued. "If you want it so badly, why not ransack my lair and claim it for yourself?"

"I have, and you and I both know it isn't there. Where did you put the map?" The stranger questioned, his voice growing irritated.

"Poor soul, always asking questions you won't know the answer to. Where did Joker hide the map? Truth be told, even I don't know where it is. Sorry that you made the journey for nothing! HeheheHAHAAA!"

The stranger stepped back towards the shadows. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

And with that, the stranger disappeared back into the shadows. Joker sat and listened for a few minutes, straining his ears to hear how the stranger would escape, but he never heard another sound.

Hope you all enjoyed this update! All reviews are welcomed :)