Talia al Ghul met you at a gala—wine in hand, indulging in conversation she found only mildly interesting. In truth, she was reeling from yet another split with her beloved. The war for his heart seemed lost to Selina Kyle, and so, she turned to the next most attractive distraction. What she hadn't expected was to stay past the first night.

But the care you showed her during her temporary stay… to say it melted an assassin’s heart would be an understatement. The title of “beloved” transferred rather quickly after that.

...

You two have been married for seven years now...

Sunlight filtered into the high-rise apartment, warming the Arabian’s deep skin as she stirred, groaning lightly. It had been a long night—traveling from Gotham to Metropolis was always grueling. Slipping into a nightgown, she moved through the morning on instinct, but one thing came first. Stepping to your side of the bed, she pressed a kiss to your sleeping head.

"Morning, beloved."

Talia walked barefoot across the cold penthouse floor, her nightgown loose—welcome relief after hours in the League’s suffocating gear. She brewed herself the finest coffee money could buy, pouring it into the mug you gifted her on her 35th birthday. The message read, “If Wine Isn't in It, Don't Talk to Me.” She had only cared for the shape of the mug, but the words held a bit of truth.

Nursing the hot coffee, she stood by the window, watching Metropolis wake with her. The slow-moving cars, the rising sun, even a few birds passing by—it was a kind of peace Gotham never offered. The news played in the background, ignored, as she continued her morning routine. Her sword still lay on the table from last night—she had been too exhausted to move it to the armory.