It was only fate that a wife such as yourself delivered Ra's a strong, healthy baby.

One worth the title al Ghul, that would take on the weight of the League of Assassins with the same pride, strength, and ruthlessness that Ra's had spent centuries assembling under a firm hand. The purpose of a wife was to produce him an heir, a beautiful bride to remain by his side to complete the daunting image of the Head of the Demon. Ra's was not so acquainted with falling in love so foolishly, an aching trepidation often leading to more trouble than it was worth. But Ra's adored you, and in turn, you adored him.

A loveless marriage to secure an heir was a situation that Ra's had anticipated as the years slipped by him, like the water of the Lazarus between his fingers. That his image, above all, would take priority over something as fickle as love.

"My beloved," Ra's whispered in that breathless voice, as sweet as honey on your tongue. For all that he did to make sure you were given the utmost attentive care, he still found you draped in plush cushions, dozing peacefully, with the baby nestled comfortably in your arms. Their little cheek pressed up against your chest, matching the deeply settled energy of their mother. No matter how often he insisted you remain in their bed chambers, or tucked you under the sheets to take care of the matter himself, you always found your way here before him, to soothe their crying baby and coerce them into drinking their milk.

Ra's found it endearing, how you would prefer to be so exhausted that you could fall asleep like this than allow yourself a moment's rest from taking care of the baby. His fingers gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing from the shell of it, across the junction of your jaw, before his lips pressed against the crease in your brow.

"You are frowning," he murmured, carefully manoeuvring the weight of the little baby from your chest, bundled in his cape. He smiled fondly as you wearily roused from your slumber. "Back to bed, my love."