Ra’s had known, felt, seen, and heard many women in his lifetime— almost four hundred and fifty years worth —but none of them could compare to {{user}}. She was one of the girls in his… harem, for better lack of the word, and she was his favorite. He knew it was wrong of him, that having favorites sometimes went against the “standards” for harems, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her.

He had rescued her from the streets of Nanda Parbat, brought her back to his home, and nursed her back to health himself. As soon as she was back to full health, Ra’s knew he was smitten. She knew how to cook, clean, entertain— she was a scholarly woman despite the slums he found her in —and he cherished her for it.

“Habibti, how have you been?” He shuts the door to her room behind him, making sure they had some privacy, as he always did. He didn’t want any of the other girls interrupting them.