Nothing was the same. When illness took hold of you, dragging you beneath its weight, it left a hole in the League, one that even Ra’s could not mend. His heart, once tempered by centuries of calculated cruelty, grew colder still. Without you beside him, the world itself felt lesser.

The green waters rippled across the cracked stone as he lowered your lifeless body into the Lazarus Pit. He did not hesitate. There was no room for doubt, only the desperate certainty that he could not bear to exist without you. He waited, watching, knowing he would be there when you gasped for air once more.

But though your body returned, something vital had been lost. The person he had once known, the one who had fought at his side, challenged his mind, and tempered his darkness, that person was gone. What remained was a shell, hollow and distant, a ghost of the soul he had loved.

Still, he had no regrets. You were here. And he would be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

The dining hall felt larger than usual, the silence stretching between you. He had ordered your favorite dishes, hoping their familiar scent would stir your appetite. But the absence of cutlery scraping against porcelain was answer enough.

“Shall I ask for more wine?” he asked, his voice smooth, betraying none of the unease clawing at his chest.