Merlyn's League

Episode One: A Kingdom of Isolation

Author's note: This is what I envision happens after the season 3 finale of Arrow. I intended for this to be a one-shot, but, as usual, during the process of creation, my brain came up with a different idea… So, this will either become a chaptered story, or a series of one-shot snippets.

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Malcolm had to admit his life as the new Ra's Al Ghul reminded him somewhat of the one he had lived as Malcolm Merlyn, the businessman, only transferred back in time to an era where people knelt before their superiors, and the punishment for failure was the loss of a body part or death.

He had tasted the life of a fugitive, and while that had garnered him some very useful skills, it was not a lifestyle he preferred. The lifestyle he preferred had been torn away from him decades ago, when Rebecca had died. It appeared that life was never to be his again, no matter how hard he had tried to regain it for himself and Tommy. He had lost Tommy forever in the process. In the earthquake he had arranged himself. He refused to think about it; it hurt too much. On the other hand, maybe he should think about it - just as he should think of failing to come to the rescue of Rebecca that night… He did think of it again and again... As a form of self-punishment? Maybe. He deserved it. He had killed his son, and, in a way, his wife. How could he live with that? By becoming Ra's Al Ghul. A new page had been turned. Or had it? Malcolm Merlyn, the leader of the League of Assassins, do you deserve it? Do you?! Do you?! Only the future would show.

The relief of his present situation was that he was once again respected. Revered, even. No longer a shadow, slithering through dark corridors, but a figure that walked proudly and found obeisance instead of contempt and resentment.

Oliver Queen had handed him the Ring. Ra's Al Ghul's Ring. Malcolm Merlyn was now the King of Kings.

The problem was, the people who gave him all those desired feelings were not the people he cared to receive them from. They were his warriors, men and women in awe of his cunning and power. Some of them thought he truly was "The Magician" after having defied death so many times without the use of the Lazarus Pit waters.

From those whose respect, trust and love he craved, he was now separated. Unwelcome in their midst, because contempt, resentment and hate still awaited him there, even if he had negotiated a truce with them. John Diggle. Felicity Smoak. Laurel Lance. Oliver Queen, whom he still thought of as a son. A son who did not want him as a father. Like Tommy. Like Thea, who cursed the day she'd learned she was his daughter.

Malcolm made an effort to dismiss these thoughts and tried to focus on the present - on his new role as Ra's Al Ghul. God, he HATED the name. Then again, it granted that he would be obeyed.

After all, gaining the title of Ra's Al Ghul had been his main aim for some time now.

Yes, he only bore this title - that was the way Malcolm called it in his head - he would never accept it inwardly as his name - his name was Malcolm Merlyn. He could never, in his heart, accept the name of the man who had almost succeeded in killing his daughter and his son… Malcolm smiled when he realized he though of Oliver this way. Calling him his son in his mind felt so natural that he now did it automatically.

This new Ra's had become quiet and distant in recent days in the eyes of his minions, who were still adjusting to the change in leadership. Whispers of speculation and gossip echoed in the endless maze of the fortress' corridors, especially after the League's Chief Priestess proclaimed this very morning that Nyssa Al Ghul, wife to the former Ra's Al Ghul - Al Sahim - was by League law now the wife of his successor - Al Saher.

Malcolm tried to wrap his mind around it.

Nyssa.

Was.

His

Wife.

Wife!

The only word Malcolm associated with "wife" was "Rebecca".

Then he thought of what nightmare Nyssa must be going through.

He knew she did not choose any part of this, just as she had not chosen to marry Oliver. And now she was in an even worse situation. Malcolm cringed inwardly at the thought of how she must be suffering. After being forced into marriage with someone she did not love, she was now handed down like cattle to a man who she had every right to hate, because he had killed her Beloved, her Sara. Malcolm cringed again.

Evening was slowly falling upon the Nanda Parbat fortress.

Malcolm took a long, relaxing bath with scented oils. The magical waters washed over his skin, removing old scars and sending waves of mysterious, humming energy through his body. He let the servants fawn over him a bit, as was expected of "Ra's". Once he got dressed, he allowed one of the serving girls to put on his formal robe. She was a pretty brunette and not overbearing, like the rest.

He dismissed the servants, his mind and body begging for some much needed sleep. Sleep that was not to be given to him, he thought, as Nyssa Al Ghul marched in, dressed in her full bedroom regalia, daggers surely hidden in the sleeves of her elaborate sleeping gown. She stood before him, surrounded by her serving maids and bodyguards, with that defiant, stubborn look on her face that failed to mask the pain and grief she was going through.

She did not give Malcolm time to speak, but suddenly knelt before him, even though he had not commanded it. A reminder of their earlier encounter and his order to her when he had first proclaimed his ascension to the title of Ra's.

"Nyssa, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked, trying to sound commanding.

"Why, our Priestess has declared I am your wife - a part of your inheritance, like the cattle, goats, horses, and all the other possessions that are now at your command," Nyssa said in a steely tone, but her eyes, directed at the floor, showed a myriad of emotions. Her voice took on a deeper hue as she swallowed and continued. "I am here to fulfill my spousal duty to you, the new Ra's Al Ghul." She painfully choked out the words, then took a deep breath…"Al Saher, now Head of the Demon. Shall I remain kneeling?" Tears were flowing freely down her face now, but despite the humiliating position, her posture remained straight and proud. Malcolm could not bear to see her like this any longer, so he reached out and pulled her up.

"Leave us," he commanded everyone in the room. "Make sure no one disturbs us this night." The servants bowed and filed out of the room, except for one of his most trusted League warriors who'd used to train with him. "Stay on guard and proceed exactly as I ordered." Malcolm said with a pointed look. The man nodded in understanding, his unwavering loyalty earning Malcolm's appreciation yet again, and exited the room to fulfill his instructions.

Now came the time for yet another difficult conversation and Malcolm had a secret to reveal that was not going to be believed. Luckily, he was prepared for this one and had convincing proof. Thank God for his decision to cooperate with someone who actually carried some trust with people.

"Nyssa."

"Yes, my master? What will you have me do?" The biting irony in her tone could have cut steel.

"Nyssa, stop this... What your father started…" He came up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She threw them off, the grimace on her face showing only how much she despised him.

"So yes, now you will try to calm me down with soothing words to make me obedient and honour this ancient 'tradition.' Then you will ask me to betray the only one I truly loved in this life!"

Malcolm's temper took the better of him. "Damn it, Nyssa, will you just listen?!"

"Al-Saher, there is NOTHING you can say that will make me listen! Oliver Queen killed my father, and rightfully so! Now you weaseled your way in to become his successor, and I am forced to be your wife! I WILL NOT 'LISTEN' TO YOU!"

Malcolm took a deep breath. A very deep breath. He sighed and looked her in the eyes, with a soft expression. "Nyssa….do you remember the first time we met?" he asked, hoping she would.

The question surprised her. "Yes, so what?" she said in a defiant voice, not even caring to recall that moment. Then flooding memories overcame her anger.

She was maybe 10...11? Training to be a killer, getting no love from her father, only demands that she obey and fulfill his requests.

Then that strange man had arrived, wearing this black leather jacket. She had been training at the moment, trying to impress Ra's, and she had felt annoyed because the man's arrival disturbed her practice. She remembered she'd threatened to kill him then. In response, he'd squatted down in front of her and showed her a simple coin trick. It had seemed like magic. She was so amazed by it. She called him Al-Saher - the Magician.

A child's awe, she realized years later. But then, before she even knew his real name - Malcolm Merlyn - she had called him that: the Magician. He was so kind, so warm, and he smiled. She was not used to such behavior. Nobody smiled in Nanda Parbat, ever.

"I remember," Nyssa said to Malcolm, her voice quiet.

She also remembered the time, during his training, when he stopped smiling. When he became cold, like Ra's taught him to be.

"You are no longer that man," she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"I am not, Nyssa." Malcolm admitted sadly. "And you are no longer that girl," he added.

Nyssa loked at him, standing before her in his Ra's Al Ghul robes. But she did not see Ra's Al Ghul. She saw the very opposite of her father. For the first time in years, she instead saw the man he used to be, in that leather jacket, the man who had shown her that coin trick. His eyes were different than her father's had been. They were bright blue, like the ice outside, and yet, they had a warmth within them.

"Malcolm," she said, her anger forgotten for a moment, and then added, smiling softly: "Al-Saher...the Magician."

Malcolm blinked in surprise at hearing her call him by his true name, then smiled back.

"So you remember."

"I shouldn't." Nyssa's gaze turned back to steel within seconds. "You killed my Beloved. The man I met then is gone, and you are a monster!" She turned away after throwing him a hateful look.

Silence reigned for a while, then she heard Malcolm calling somebody on his phone. The conversation was too quiet for her to make out any of the words.

Probably summoning one of his associates to help him get rid of her discreetly, since she refused to obey him.

"Nyssa," Malcolm called out suddenly, and the soft, pleading tone of his voice made her turn back to face him.

"What now?" she demanded petulantly, but curiosity took the better of her.

"I want you to realise… This situation is far from ideal for me either, I…" he paused, searching for words. His gaze grew distant and his voice had an eerie ring to it when he spoke again. "As you know, I lost my wife many years ago. I have never let her go, though, nor do I wish to."

Nyssa was taken aback when he suddenly shifted his gaze and their eyes met. So much pain was reflected in these two deep pools of blue looking back at her; she did not know how he managed to keep the flood behind them at bay. She realized he was not much different than her. He had lost his Beloved too, she thought, and when that happened, he became someone who was ready to butcher the whole world in order to avenge her.

"I can release you, Nyssa, if you wish me to." he added quietly, now staring earnestly at her, searching her features for a reaction. "I am Ra's Al Ghul after all, and no matter what the High Priestess has said, my word is still above hers."

Nyssa's mind went spinning. Was Malcolm Merlyn actually offering her… freedom? Freedom to do as she pleased, go wherever she wanted, no League assassins follonwig with orders to kill her? Well, he was now the Head of the Demon, bearing a title that was meant to be hers, so he could afford to be magnanimous, a sarcastic voice inside her said.

But had she ever really wanted that title? Deep down inside, Nyssa already knew the answer to that question. She'd been trained and conditioned to become her father's successor, taught to take pride in it, desire it. But she'd only discovered what she really wanted in her heart of hearts when she'd met Sara. Heard her laugh. Touched her hand. Lay down next to her and listened to her even breath.

All of this had been torn away from her, time and time again. First by Sara leaving, then by her murder at the whim of the very man who now stood before her, looking so concerned. Nyssa wanted to shoot some spiteful response at him, but she found she no longer had the strength to do it.

"Free me…" she started, in a surprisingly weak voice. Even if she was free, what would she do? Sara had told her about all the amazing places they could see together and she remembered imagining how wonderful it would be.

"Free me… what for? Everything is pointless anyway." Her shoulders slumped and she stared numbly at the floor. Even if she was free to go wherever she wanted, without Sara everything would be hollow. Meaningless. Al-Saher might just as well execute her on the spot.

She sensed him shifting uneasily, and as she looked up, she saw him looking expectantly at the chamber door. Was he so impatient to get rid of her?

Finally, they heard a soft knock.

"Enter" Merlyn called out firmly.

The door opened and the figure that walked in made Nyssa think she must be hallucinating.

It was Sara.

She could do nothing but stare as the woman approached her.

"Darling," Sara said in Arabic, echoing the greeting they had exchanged so many times before.

Nyssa took in the familiar features, the smile that she knew so well… But this could not be. She stood frozen like a statue, unable to choke out a word, her mind swirling.

Then suddenly Sara closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly, letting out a sigh of contentment. "It's really me, baby, I'm here."

Nyssa gave into the embrace, letting her senses take over. Sara's familiar perfume and oh, so familiar caresses convinced her it was really her beloved.

"How? How is this possible, love?" she choked out as they finally broke the embrace and stood facing each other. "I thought… There was proof he killed you. Made his daughter kill you." Nyssa gestured at Malcolm, throwing him a hateful look. "Oliver Queen and your own sister saw the body. They buried you. I was at your grave..."

Sara turned to look at Malcolm and he nodded.

"Darling…" She began, taking Nyssa's hand. "Let me explain everything to you. I had to escape the League. Your father sent me to Starling City to take pictures to prove that Malcolm was there again. I became suspicious at once. He knew Al-Saher was there - what did he need pictures for?"

Nyssa let out a cry of anger. "So I was right all along! My father sent you to Starling hoping Al-Saher would kill you, because Ra's always disapproved of our love!" Nyssa was so furious she was not able to call the man her father any longer.

"Yes, love. I contacted Al-Saher and told him of Ra's' plans. He agreed to help me fake my death."

"But how did you do this? Oliver and his team examined your body, and they were sure it was you. That Felicity woman, the hacker, did a 'digital' autopsy on you, or whatever it's called."

"It's a complicated story. After I contacted Malcolm and he agreed to help me, we found a single mother with no other family to speak of, looking very much like me, who was in the first stages of terminal cancer. There was no chance for her to survive. All she had was her little girl and no way of providing for her after she'd be gone or when she started to suffer the horrors of her disease." Sara's eyes welled up with tears as she once again considered the dilemma and pain the woman must have gone through.

"She was the same age, same height, same build as me. She agreed to have a set of plastic surgeries to look exactly like me, including the scars on my body. She was going to die a very painful death otherwise, so she agreed to this instead in exchange for Al-Saher giving her the funds that would provide her little daughter with the life of a princess." Sara threw Malcolm a half-smile. She knew he had kept his end of the deal. She had checked that herself.

"But why would he do it? The photos proving he was alive were already at your apartment, even after you disappeared."

"Nyssa… Your father did not rely on the sole possibilty that Al-Saher would kill me. He had assassins in place in case Malcolm didn't finish me off. I found out and that is why I reached out to Al-Saher. He was the only one with the means to help me survive."

"Still, why would he care enough to help you?"

Sara threw Malcolm a look, half angry, half grateful.

"For quite convoluted reasons of his own. What happened to Oliver and Thea in the process were part of a very elaborate plan. When I contacted him, he was a fugitive, both from the League and the law. By helping me, he saved his own life as well as mine. And look at him now: he is the new Ra's Al Ghul, one of the most powerful people on the planet."

"Figures. 'The Magician' at his very best." Nyssa said. "I still need to have a few words with him alone, love. Will you wait for me?"

"Of course," Sara moved to the door. "And hey, don't be too hard on him. He's shown me kindness when I thought I was a goner. I believe a good heart still beats somewhere underneath all those lies and manipulation." With that, she quietly exited the chamber.

"So…" Nyssa turned to Malcolm, but instead of being faced with the angry fit from hell he was expecting, he found himself almost passing out from shock when she approached him and gently put her hand on his forearm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He answered quietly after a beat, his voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat and continued,

"I meant what I said earlier, Nyssa. I can formally release you from being my wife, so you can be with Sara and do whatever you please, with no threat from me or the League. You would also be protected from interference by any other party; I can make sure of it."

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and was surprised to see concern reflected there.

"I would very much like that, and I believe you, now." Nyssa said, her hand still resting on his forearm. "Although… I still don't understand… You… you've let everyone hate you by making them believe Sara's death was your doing… Now that my father is no longer a threat, why do you not reveal that she is alive to those closest to her, who are still in mourning, as I was, just moments ago?"

Malcolm's hand squeezed hers briefly before he removed it gently from his forearm.

"Because it is Sara's truth to tell, Nyssa, not mine," He said earnestly. "And as to everyone hating me… Most of them did anyway, even before I added Sara's murder to the list of my crimes." The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile, but the look in his eyes was so haunted that whatever Nyssa intended to say next died on her lips.

She'd been wrong on both counts today: no, Al-Saher was no longer the man who had shown her that coin trick, but he was also not the monster she had believed him to be until a few minutes ago. He had become… Someone else. Something else.

"Well now, Nyssa, if I have answered all the questions you have for me today, I don't think you should keep Sara waiting any longer," he said, his smile growing wider as she observed his eyes shifting away from whatever haunted him to return to the present moment.

"I shall make arrangements for your release ritual tomorrow. Ahmid will take you to your Beloved now." He opened the door and beckoned the guard to lead her to the chamber where Sara was staying. "Goodnight, Nyssa."

"Goodnight." Nyssa answered in Arabic, and reached out to squeeze Malcolm's forearm once again before she left.

He stared after her for a few moments and then moved to his inner chamber. He paced the length of it several times, not quite sure what to do with himself. He felt too awake to go to bed yet, but there was no one he could talk to at this dusky hour. He poured himself some wine from the caraffe on the table and sipped it slowly, staring at the crackling flames of the bedroom fireplace. Suddenly, he felt like a lion locked up in a cage. There was something tearing him apart from within, a longing, a desperate need to…

He heard Ahmid return to his post at the door and he pushed it open, entwining his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking as he adressed his warrior. "I am going out for a walk on the grounds," his well-trained voice informed the man dispassionately. "Make sure no one enters this chamber, and if anyone should ask, I am inside, not to be disturbed. Is Zahir going to stand guard with you tonight?"

"Yes, master."

"Very well. Bring him up to date on all my orders."

Ahmid nodded and stepped back to his position by the door.

Malcolm traversed Nanda Parbat's dark corridors and made his way to one of the fortress' secret exists. He did not have to hide anymore, but today he felt like sneaking out, if only for the pure sake of commemorating the past.

The cold wind welcomed him outside and he plunged tirelessly into it as he embarked upon this much needed walk. He did not have a direction in mind. He just let his feet carry him wherever the path would lead. As it turned out, it brought him to the place where he and Oliver had had their conversation by the fire the one night after Malcolm had infiltrated the League.

He sat down in the same place he had occupied while talking to Oliver. Only one person was missing.

He instinctively reached into his pocket for his phone, but then realized he had left it in his chamber after calling Sara. What would he have said if he'd called Oliver now anyway? "So, I feel lonely and just needed to hear your voice"? That was the God-honest truth and yet again, Malcolm could not say it. He remembered his last conversation with Oliver in Thea's loft in Starling. He'd allowed his heart to speak back then.

"I always looked at you as a son, Oliver. And I'm glad we got to work together, to trust as we did," he'd said after Oliver gave him the Ring. He'd wished to hold the boy's hand longer, in a real handshake, but Oliver had withdrawn quickly, as if Malcolm's touch burned him.

"I will never forgive you for what you did to Sara... My sister… Ever." Malcolm's soul screamed in agony then, wishing he could tell Oliver the full truth about Sara… About everything. He knew that wouldn't grant him forgiveness, but at least… At least this one sin would be wiped from his list in Oliver's eyes. And yet, all he could do was keep his mouth shut and let the hate that radiated from the boy wash over him. He schooled his features not to show any emotion, but his heart was beating a hundred miles per minute when he asked the next question.

"Does that mean we're enemies once more?" He was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded in the face of the storm of emotions swirling inside.

"That depends what you do with your end of the bargain," Oliver repied coldly and turned away. Malcolm made no move to stop him. His mind was full of promises he wanted to whisper to Oliver right then and there… How he would use his new position as Ra's Al Ghul to make a change, make a difference in the world. To use this power for good and right his wrongs. But he knew Oliver was not ready to listen. It was time for Malcolm to do and not just talk. However much he needed the support from his 'adopted' son, he would have to do it all on his own. Prove himself, and then reunite with Oliver after the boy had seen everything Malcolm had accomplished. After he'd kept up his end of the bargain.

Nanda Parbat was cold when nighttime came.

So he sat alone by the moonlight, not caring to light the fire.

It seemed as if hours went by… He felt his spirit screaming inside, trying to break free, and finally, in this desolate place, he let it roam. It was so cold. A storm was coming. Malcolm welcomed the swirling dance of snowflakes around him. He welcomed it all and let go of everything else.

Hours seemed to go by. He suddenly felt the touch of a hand on his arm. He turned and saw… Rebecca. Her palm was cold, but all he felt was warmth.

"Love." Her voice echoed eerily through the landscape around them.

"Love," he said back, standing up and embracing his wife as the immortal energies coursed through both of them and he gasped in surpise as he saw his body lying next to where he stood. He knew he coud return to it anytime he wanted. It was just a shell .Tears poured freely from Malcolm's eyes as he held his Beloved for the first time in… too many years to count. "Love, you are here." He breathed in her familiar scent; her caresses made him feel home, wherever he was. "Never leave me, darling," He pleaded in a whisper.

"I am here to stay, love. Forever," she said, and his heart needed to hear only this.

He was never going to be alone again. Malcolm merged with his body once more and stood up.

He turned towards his warm, new home in Nanda Parbat.

As he walked, he felt Rebecca walking alongside him. He knew that inside his fortress, he would meet two happy women in love. And now he had his own beloved, walking by his side, even if she was invisible to the rest of the world.

The cold never bothered him anyway.