PROLOGUE

He sat like he always had, at the computer, the screen flashing different images as he mindlessly flicked through his files. What had he been looking for again? His fingers pressed into his temples, the lids of his eyes drifted closer together. Stay focused, Bruce. He slammed his hands down on the desk and straightened against the seat, but he felt himself lazing off again.

Bruce Wayne oft had nights such as these, where tirelessly he worked to put Gotham's scum and villainy to rest once and for all. Though, tonight he had pushed himself harder than he had in a while. The Joker had assumed complete control over Arkham Asylum, morphing it into his personal funhouse. It took him the whole night to pry the clown's hands off of the Asylum, and restore justice to that wretched place once and for all. He sighed as he relaxed into his seat, the humming of his computer an odd comfort he had come to know.

His mind wrought forth bright colours that filled his view, they calmed him. He saw the smile of his mother, and felt the warmth of his father. They hugged him tight.

"It's alright, Bruce." His father said, holding him close. "We do not need to watch the movie if you're scared." His voice was firm, but assuring.

He then heard the comforting tone of his mother, "Bruce…" She squatted down to his level, her red dress trailing along the grimy pavements but she did not seem to care. "How about we ditch your father here and go grab some chocolate?" She said, hushed and sweetly.

"What?!" His father feigned an alarmed expression, "What did I do?" Bruce giggled, his mother took his hand in hers and they bolted off into the alleyway. "Don't run off too far!" his father desperately called out to them.

Dread washed over him, like a bright flash from the barrel of a gun. The sound pierced his ears. He dropped to his knees and took his mother's hand in his. It was limp. Awkward. He squeezed it but she did not respond. She did not even look at him. It was cold. Mother?

He turned around and found that the alleyway was gone. Still a boy, the cold winds ravaged through his hair and clothes. For miles he saw snow. Snowy hills, and mountains as far as the eye could see. They ran along the world, with icy rivers snaking their way back down towards and then past him some. Above, the sky was a midnight purple, the stars creeping their way into the sky as the sun slept deep beneath the great white mountains. The world trembled, and then the sky shimmered something beautiful. Green flames flashed and flickered as they set the sky ablaze. Bruce stared up wondrously, the cold long forgotten.

Aurora Borealis, he remembered. And like that, he was a man again. He looked behind him, and saw his own footsteps trailing towards him and then receding again. He followed them until his vision saw only snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. Then white.

He awoke amongst trees and dirt. Tall pines towered far above him, the air was harsh and bitter. Much like the taste in his mouth. He raised himself slowly, and assessed his surroundings. It seemed that Gotham was now a distant memory. He tapped his comms, and only heard an uneasy fizzling on the other side. It's not the first time that he lost connection from Wayne satellites. He looked around, and then tried the backup satellites. When it brought him the same problem, he knew that there was something terribly wrong. He tried the Justice League, STAR Labs and even Queen Industries. Though, he promised Oliver he wouldn't hack into them again…

His attempts were in vain. Am I off-world? Batman certainly was no stranger to teleportation, whether it be magic or technology. At first glance, his surroundings were distinctly Earth-like. For one, he recognised a fox skittering after a rabbit. He was enclosed in a deeply forested area, thick trees glared coldly at him. As if they knew he did not belong. He unclasped a pocket from his utility belt, and from within found himself a compass. But where do I go?

The best solution was to get a lay of the land, if he was still on Earth, he could find civilization and easily engineer a way back home. If he was off-world, it may be harder but still certainly possible as he had done so before. And so, Batman worked to map out the area around him, disappointingly finding that still, a vast forest surrounded him. Night soon fell upon this strange world. As the sun set and the world blackened, his senses burned anew. He was in his element. Once again that youth, aspiring to train with the very best. The gruelling work he had undertaken to become this creature of the night had seeped into his very bones and they moved effortlessly. He would survive.

It would not be long before he came upon his first signs of life, shifting through a brush, an encampment entered his view. The stirring of nearby bushes focuses his attention. It almost sounds like… running? He crept around the encampment carefully, following the sound. He needed a vantage point, so he scaled a tree. It escaped him now, but not without a reason. For he saw something deeper in the forest. North of his position, stood a gathering of men. Adorned in shimmering sets of pale white armour, they stood out among the black of the trees. They spoke a language completely foreign to his ears. Still, he listened silently above, dancing from tree to tree until they were plain in his view. They appeared as men, though they were not. Alien, perhaps. Tall and sickly looking, their skin was as pale as the armour they bore. Though, their eyes were a hollow blue. They stood among corpses, and Batman gritted his teeth. Their footfalls were graceful, respectful to the ground beneath them. One of them knelt down to the body and touched it. And then, the corpse twisted violently, shuddering. It rose. In horror, he looked on. The resurrected man moved sluggishly, almost aimlessly. This is a sick and twisted sort of evil, these creatures take life as their own. He had seen enough, descending upon the white-clad warriors like the hammer of justice. They were fast, twirling their blades around to strike him in the instant he appeared. Batman was faster. Weaving around the blade, and striking the warrior in the face and flooring another. The corpse fumbled its way towards him, but lurched back onto the ground when a firm kick was put into its stomach. The other warriors were smarter, they fought like a blizzard, hailing down on Batman with slices and blows. They cut him cleanly across the arm, and he retreated back into the trees. The wound was not deep, but the cold bit away at his flesh. His breath steamed in the crisp air. It's getting colder…

The creatures kept their eyes on him, as if they could see through the twirling mist and the darkness. It's not darkness I need, anyway. Between each finger slid a batarang, a flick of the wrist saw they met their target. One was knocked to the ground, another hit the metal with the back of its blade. The other two stumbled back. It was all Batman needed, swinging from the tree with his grappling hook and attacking the warriors once again. But each time he knocked them down, they rose again. Ever-living. Never tiring. No matter what he tried, they seemed unstoppable. A force of nature. The corpse flew at him, and Batman struck it so hard its head swivelled around.

"No!" Batman cried. It staggered towards him. They… don't live? He took a step back. The ice-warriors assessed him, and he them. Their blades were like shards of glass. Like icicles, they hung firmly from the hands of their wielders, carved and sharpened to take the form of swords. Cold to the touch, he remembered as he gripped his freezing wound. Then his eyes widened. Magic, he realised at once. That's why they won't stay down. The air seems to mystify around them, swirling with the cold magic of this world. Magic ought to be defeated with magic… a ritual? He wondered. Whatever it may be, the point remained. They are truly alive, then. The warriors slowly raised their blades once more. His fingers slithered into his utility belt once more, perhaps a weapon like this would see use against Killer Croc or Bane but if he was correct the creatures would withstand this and more. He gripped tightly around another batarang, a small button around its tip required some force to push down. Years of experience worked its own magic, his arm flinging it masterfully. It curved around a swing from their gelid sword, and struck the middle-most creature in its cheek. It's hand reached for it in surprise. Batman rolled back and took cover behind his cape. The explosion was loud, small and contained. The corpse was thrown forward from the impact and Batman was forced to dodge. This one though… is dead. He stomped on its head, crushing it easily. The rest of its body still squirmed, though it seemed immobilised. His attention turned back to the white warriors that stepped forth from the explosion, unscathed. Correct, he was but this meant he had to flee. With his current knowledge, he had no way of defeating them. His mouth tightened as this meant they would be free to roam and murder as they pleased. Though, life seemed sparse in these parts and that was enough for him to go. He took the corpse with him as he took to the trees, when he was far enough he would study it. As he departed, the warriors were fixed upon him with a colder gaze than the wound on his arm. They would not forget. Let them.

He found himself heading further south, it had been the only place he hadn't explored so thoroughly. And of course, it was the place that he began to make the most progress. Later, he stopped and analysed the corpse he brought with him. Apart from the missing head, it seemed his cause of death was already plain to Batman. Died from wounds inflicted by the white warriors. He noted the garb of the deceased, dressed in all black. Leather boots, a cloak he was like to see on the Penguin and ringmail over what seemed like wool… Mediaeval attire. I must've been brought to the past… but why? He knew it was likely to be magic that pulled him here, magic seemed strongest here. He sighed. Science was more his strong-suit, and the far better option to get him home. But if it was a spell to bring me here… undoing it can bring me home, surely? His mind brought him back to the visions from before, the cold breath of the world as it welcomed him. The hills and mountains that were capped by dancing snow which rejoiced under the dazzling lights above. The same bitter cold that enshrouded the white warriors. The magician Zatara had once told him that magic was like a knot, loosening one end could cause all connected spells to unravel. Perhaps the same is true here, I undo the spell of these creatures… and it brings me home. Even if they were not connected, they were a blight upon this world. Murder was not something Batman would tolerate so easily.

His musings led him on into dawn, he watched the rising sun from the top of the treeline and did not remember the rest. His lids lifted to the sound of a squirrel darting alongside him, its little feet pattering across a lesser branch. He sighed, half of him hoped he would wake back home, his breath misted in the morning air. It seemed to be colder than yesterday, perhaps winter is almost upon this world. His own had been drawing closer to the winter months as well, he hoped that the plans left in place of his absence would keep the city safe. Surely? Dick would tell me to relax. He got up and brushed himself off, I can only focus on what's directly in front of me. Gotham will have to wait for me. He found the corpse he had strung along with him a few feet from where he slept, still struggling along the dirt and snow. It worried him a little, as the magic reanimating the corpse was borne from the white warriors. Could they track it? If they could, they would've gained on him while he slept. Or perhaps, they simply don't care for him. The questions kept coming, and he would find no answers here. Batman stripped the corpse of its belongings. If this were truly the mediaeval age, a giant bat would be far more strange than the sight of Bruce Wayne. He needed to blend in. Using a combination of rope and his cape, he made a makeshift bag to carry parts of his suit. He kept his gauntlets (though without the gloves) and boots. The rest he had to tuck away, replaced with the black leather of the dead man. He wrung the cloak around his shoulders to hide the parts of his costume he omitted to remove, and kept the bag close. He would head south.

He knew he was making headway when the stumps appeared. Some were cleanly cut, others less so but all the same they marked the passing of trees. They did not seem fresh, and they were few in number. Batman continued following the trail of trees that once were. With the life he's lived, Batman didn't think there could be any surprises left in store for him. He had only looked away for a moment, but when he turned back the sky had gone. It seemed like glittering crystals that filled the space in its stead, smiling back at the sun. The structure jutted above the treeline, Batman could not tell what it was but it was huge and impossible. As it drew closer, the structure seemed to be weeping, water like crystalline tears. It seemed to stretch out to nowhere on either side of him, a wall. Which side does it mean to protect? It was ice that formed this barrier. And that confirmed to him that he had not been thrown in time. Had a thing like this existed, I would know. He trudged closer, and could see the edge of the forest appearing in front of him. The bushes to his side stirred, and he had not heard the like since he encountered the white warriors. He turned, only to see a hare hopping from within the bush and past him.

His attention was yet again captured by the sight of the giant wall, but then soft footfalls fell in behind him.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A warm voice had called out to him. He turned immediately. The stranger was dressed in all black, much like himself. He trudged closer, in his dominant hand a longsword that he gripped intently. Batman kept his distance. Had the corpse he found been a friend to this man? Or was black the colour of choice for this place? The stranger answered the questions for him, "You wear the black of one of my brothers. Yet, I know you not… who are you?" Batman considered his options. "You don't look like a wildling, or even a northerner. Aye, I've seen your like in the south."

"The south?" Batman blurted out.

"You are unarmed? Would you take a look to see that I am not?" He raised his sword slightly. "Brothers of mine have gone missing, and you would be wise to answer me."

Brothers? What is going on here? The corpse he found did not look so much like anything of the man he saw before him. His face was long, and his hair was longer still. His eyes were muddled with blue and grey, like a flash of steel in the morning mist. Batman remained cautious. "I have not seen your brothers."

"That cloak has… along with the rest of the belongings you stole. Whatever happened to the rangers, you will tell me!" The stranger closed the distance between them, lifting his longsword and slicing in a downward arc towards Batman. He met the steel with his gauntlets, many a time before they had fended off the blade of the Demon's Head. They shall not break now. Sparks flew and both fighters spun around, with the stranger dashing in with a flurry of attacks. Each time they clashed with Batman's side blades, the sound of steel ringing through the air. Batman's graceful parries allowed him to gain the upper hand on his opponent, tearing the stranger's defensive stance apart and allowing Batman to strike him in the chest. Once. Twice. The stranger backed off and heaved his tired blade at Batman, but he grabbed it and kicked the man over. He tossed the sword to the side.

The stranger was huffing, clutching the ground beneath him. "I see." His eyes met Batman's. "You don't mean to kill me."

"No."

"Why do you wear the clothes of Ser Waymar Royce?" He sounded breathless.

Before Batman would explain, he would pose a question. "Do you practise magic in these lands?" The man looked at him like he was mad.

It took a while for the stranger to believe him. The white warriors he knew to be the Others, an old wives tale come true. A legend. Magic did not exist in the capacity he had thought it to, the stranger had never heard as such and questioned the authenticity of the claims at every chance. He appeared to be at his mercy, but Batman could tell by how his hand was awkwardly flat against his black cloak that he must have a dagger tucked against his belt.

Batman would press the stranger with more questions, and find answers to none.

"You are strange, indeed. You speak like a fool yet fight like a dozen knights in one. If it were the Others you encountered, you would be a cold corpse like that you say of Ser Waymar Royce."

Batman felt the frustration, "If you don't care to listen, then I'll only need for you to tell me where I am. Is there a city, or town nearby?"

The stranger made a strange face. "Is it not obvious? You are north of the wall… you will find no cities. However you made it here, I haven't a clue."

"Who are you?"

"A sworn brother of the Night's Watch. I would ask if that were not obvious as well?"

"Is this Night's Watch an order of knights? Is that what you meant by your brothers?"

"Are you well?" The man narrowed his eyes, "You haven't the faintest idea of where you are… even with the Wall behind us?" He seemed to be thinking about something.

"I am coming to understand that I am not from these lands." He never took his eyes off of the stranger, though it felt stronger now that his surroundings were very unfamiliar to him. He had been to worlds similar to his own, though they were parallel versions of Earth with different rules and structures. A world like Earth, though entirely different. Tim would tell me it was obvious.

"Aye, you speak strangely enough." The hand pressed against the cloak twitched. "You never answered my question before. When I asked who you were."

Batman decided to conceal the truth, "My name is Matches. Matches Malone. And you hide a dagger under your cloak."

The stranger laughed uneasily, and unveiled his belt. He threw the dagger to the ground beneath Batman's feet and raised his hands. "Good eye. Though, you too have lied. Who are you, truly? A mother can't be as cruel as to name her child Matches."

Batman smiled. "No, she named me Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

"I am Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch. I wouldn't say I am strong in believing you, but you have not killed me yet." He chuckled. "Come, Bruce. Explain it all, and I shall listen."