Chapter Text
“Listen, Ser Knight, I know there’s a fee for takin’ this bridge, but I don’t have enough on me too pay you...” It was already the middle of the third season, and it was heavily raining. The knight didn’t seem to mind, but the poor priest was beginning to shiver with cold. The donkey was also starting to get nervous, and gods knew this animal could get uncontrollable when it was pissed. The old man took a glance at the river, rushing under the bridge. It would be sheer madness to try and cross it, now that it was made bigger by the rain. The clothes and hay he had managed to gather were getting wet and would be unusable if he didn’t reach the orphanage soon...
All this time, a little boy was quietly swinging his legs from the cart where he was sitting. He had nothing to protect him from the water and looked filthy. Drops were catching in his dark eyelashes and entered in his mouth, but de didn’t seem to mind. Actually, it seemed that he was entirely cut off from the world surrounding him, and this gave him a mysteriously appealing yet innerving air. You wanted to hug him and shake him to wake him up at the same time... The knight clenched his teeth and slowly blinked.
“The fee is the fee, old man.” His voice was deep and had some mechanical sound to it, probably caused by the strange helmet he was wearing. “This bridge was built by our men, for our men. You came from Gotham and crossed it once. Now if you want to go back to your rotten city, you’ll have to pay the fee.” A Gothamite shouldn’t have been allowed pass the bridge anyway. Once the guards came back, he should scold them and make sure such a mistake never happened again. But for now, the old man had to pay.
The priest was desperate. He had nothing of value on him, at least nothing that would satisfy this cruel guard. Passing a hand through his hair, he turned his head and his eyes fell on the little boy. John. Orphaned just a year ago, mother unknown, alcoholic and gambling father, pretty classical as far as orphan’s stories went in Gotham. He had witnessed his father’s death and was prone to violent outbreaks. He had destroyed a few things and hurt a child. He couldn’t be left alone, that’s why Father Reily had taken him with him to his trip to the city of Dag. Reily knew children like him: they were good at heart, most of them, but their heart had been broken and to mend it, they required lots of attention. An attention nobody could give them at the orphanage... And without it, they often turned into beasts.
“The boy.” The priest said. He scraped his throat then spoke louder, to be sure the knight heard him over the sound of the rain. “I don’t have anything to give you, but the boy. He’s clever and quick on his feet. He’s young, too, only eight or nine winters. He’ll be a good... whatever you’ll wish to use him for.”
The little boy stopped swinging his feet. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to come into focus and after a quick glance at the shameful priest, he looked right into the knight’s eyes.
Without him even meaning too, those words escaped the knight’s lips. “Alright, I’ll take the boy as a fee.”
The fire was crackling in the fireplace. The little boy was sitting on a chair in front of it, his clothes and hair now mostly dry. He hadn’t spoken a word since the priest had left, or rather sold him, but neither had Bane.
The Knight didn’t know why he had accepted this boy. He was very young and couldn’t possibly be of any use. He’d need training and feeding, and by the laws applying in the city of Drag, Bane would be responsible of him. Barsad and Mistress Talia would probably laugh at him...
He took a proper look at the boy. He really was a cute little boy, and if he was properly taken care of, he’ll most certainly grow into a strong man. He sighed and came closer to the child. He knelt in front of him and put his hands on the tiny legs, to reassure the child and to assure that he wouldn’t try to go run away.
And there he saw it. In the dark eyes of the boy, a flash of fear passed, but most of all, Bane could see the Fire. The Fire was burning in him, just like it was burning in Mistress Talia’s eyes. This boy was pure and made to do great things. And Bane, as Guardian of the Fire, had responded to It. It was his Duty that had spoken earlier.
But the boy did not know of all this. For him, the Fire and the Guardians were just legends, stories that his mother told him, a long time ago, to put him to sleep. He had no idea that he was one of those who were called by Destiny to lead others, to change things. And so he did not know either that this man in front of him was one who was born to protect him and take care of him, no matter what.
“What is your name, little one?” the knight asked, trying to make his voice seem lower and gentler, as to not frighten him further. Of course, the child did not answer. But Bane wasn’t surprised, and instead of pushing him to answer, he decided to try and earn his trust.
He sat cross-legged, back to the fire, and put his hands on his legs, sensing the little boy wouldn’t try to run away, and that he’d be more at ease that way.
“Let me tell you a story, little one. When I am over, if you liked my story, then you will tell me your name. In the Ancient Times, the world was dark and filled with monsters. Humans lived in groups and protected each other as best as they could, but they had no light to see the monsters, and no stone walls to shield them. And each day and each night, at least one would be taken away by the beasts, never to be seen again.” He made a pause to see if the boy was listening. To his relief, the boy was all ears.
“One day, a man spoke to the gods. He begged them and prayed them to send him some light, so he could see the monsters and defend his tribe. He promised them that he would do everything he could to protect the Light, and make sure it would never be turned off. The man spoke so well and seemed so sincere, that the gods sent him the Fire and made him Its Guardian.” Sitting so close to the fireplace, the knight was starting to feel a bit too hot. He took some of his clothes and his helmet off. When the boy saw the mask that remained on his face, his eyes slightly widened, but he still didn’t speak.
“Thanks to the Fire and the Guardian, the people could fight off the monsters. They were then more and stronger and they could build houses to sleep, and then cities to live. Soon, the world did not seem so dark anymore, and the need for the Fire was forgotten. The men became greedy and power thirsty: they killed animals and trees when it wasn’t necessary, and they began to fight each other.” The little boy was still listening with rapture, though it was getting late and the warmth of the fire was beginning to make him sleepy.
“Of course, the gods were not happy. They talked to the Guardian, and scolded him for letting this happen. The foolish man responded that he had done what he had promised: he had protected the Fire. When the gods asked to see the Fire, the man was squirming under their gaze. But since they were threatening to kill him, he relented and led them to a room which was buried deep into the ground, under his big stone house. In this tiny room without a window, without light, without air, the Fire was lying, almost unconscious, on a slim dirty bed.” The knight glanced at the little boy to ensure he was still awake. To his surprise, his eyes were wide open. Apparently, the tragic turn of events in the story had woken him up.
“When they saw how the man had treated their gift, the gods became mad. They enchanted the inhabitants of the city, and made them go against the Guardian. But the gods, in their haste, had made a mistake in their spell, and instead of going against him, they went against the Fire. The Guardian, who was in fact a good man who had been blinded by power, protected the Fire with his life. He managed to save the Fire, but he was disfigured and almost killed by the angry mob.” The knight closed his eyes to fight off the images that were running behind his eyes. He raised his hands and touched his mask, as if to make an ache disappear.
“The Fire had left running and found Itself lost, all alone in the deep forest. It was sad and scared, for he had loved the Guardian, who had been the one to bring him into this world and to feed him and protect him. And even though he had locked him up in a dark room for the last few years, he had given his life for It in the end, so the Fire forgave him. And It implored the gods to forgive the Guardian too, and to bring him back.
“The gods were touched by the purity of the Fire’s love, but they could not entirely forgive the Guardian for breaking his promise. So they brought him back, but they cursed him: he would always wear on his face, the scars that showed he had saved the Fire. This way, he will always be reminded what was the price to pay for betraying the gods and the Fire.
“And because the gods are loving and generous but cruel, they decided that one lifetime wasn’t enough. Every time mankind would be in danger, they would send the Fire to help the men and take them out of the darkness. A man would then become the Guardian and wear on his face the same scars that the First Guardian had obtained. And his role would be not only to protect the Fire, but also to ensure that Its will would be respected.”
When he was finished, Bane hesitated to tell the boy that he was the Fire. But he thought that maybe, it was too much responsibilities for a young lost child.
“Did you like my story, little one? Will you tell me your name?” The child was still wide eyed, and more focused than ever. He slowly went down on the floor and knelt in front of Bane. He slowly raised a hand and brought it close to the knight’s mask. With a questioning glance, he stopped, waiting for the approval of the older man. When the latter nodded, the little hand touched the mask with great care.
“Does it still hurt?”
The tiny voice surprised the older man, though he didn’t let it show. He didn’t know what to answer to this little human being in front of him. As he had learnt when being close to Talia, truth was more often than not the better option.
“It does, mostly, but when I am focused on more important things, I can will it away.”
The little boy stared right into his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke again.
“You can call me John. And if I like you, I will tell you my true name.”