Nyssa's mother keeps her close.
Amina Raatko is rarely seen without her daughter on her hip–some even claim that the Heir to the Demon doesn't even know how to walk, what with how much Amina carries her around.
Nyssa doesn't mind, though. Why would she? She's six years old. Momma lets her stay up late and gives her kisses and frames her childish drawings and comforts her after a nightmare. Her mother's her entire world. Nyssa doesn't care when her father says she's going to rule everyone else's.
This will be the first time that Nyssa is without her mother for more than twenty-four hours. Amina is visiting her own mother for the first time since before Nyssa could talk.
("Can I go with you?" Nyssa asks, after Amina breaks the news to her.
Nyssa hasn't learned to read people yet, so Amina's expression is one she doesn't quite know. "Maybe next time, sweetheart," she says, dropping a kiss on Nyssa's forehead. She hands her off to Shiva, pulls her bag further up on her shoulder, and leaves without another word.
She doesn't want Nyssa to know her grandmother despises her. She especially doesn't want Nyssa to know how Amina hadn't wanted her.)
Shiva isn't like Momma. Shiva puts her to bed early and doesn't give her kisses and throws away her drawings and tells her to shut up when she wakes up crying. Nyssa doesn't necessarily like Shiva.
But when one of her father's men shows up and says that Ra's al Ghul has summoned Nyssa, Shiva lets Nyssa jump in puddles on the way to Ra's. If Nyssa would look, she'd see the pity in her eyes. But she's too busy splashing in the shallow waters–the puddles only gather once a year, after all.
Ra's greets her with an oddly warm smile in front of a pair of doors Nyssa has never seen before. (Both of her parents said she wasn't allowed in this part of the fortress until she's older.) "Hello, my daughter," he greets with equal warmth, eyes trained solely on her. She's noticed that he rarely speaks directly to the guards.
He extends a hand to her; gold ring glinting in the fire light. "Come. I have something to show you."
She hesitates, though she knows she's not supposed to. This man is her father; he gives her nice things and ruffles her hair and asks her about her day and smiles at her.
But this man is also her father; he's twisted her arm until she heard it snap and hits Momma when they disagree and pretends she doesn't exist at dinner and hurts her.
She's never quite sure which side of him she'll encounter that day.
"Nyssa," her father says warningly, the corners of his mouth ticking downwards, and she quickly tucks her hand in his much bigger one before she ruins a seemingly good day. He's smiling again. She's relieved.
A guard opens the heavy doors her them, and Ra's leads Nyssa inside. Shiva doesn't follow them; she takes her place opposite to the guard that opened the doors, hands behind her back. Nyssa doesn't like Shiva, but she's not entirely sure it's a good thing she's being left behind.
She doesn't have time to dwell on that, though, when the doors close. She scans the room.
It's empty, except for candles here and there and a rack of swords not entirely unlike the dagger Ra's gave Nyssa to play with and three men. Two of them are her father's men, with swords at their sides and their hoods that keep Nyssa from ever seeing their faces. The third man is on his knees; cloth in his mouth and hands tied behind his back.
Ra's has men of all types of different ethnicities, but Nyssa doesn't think she's seen eyes so startlingly blue. It's a stark difference from the red pouring out of his nose and staining his face.
Nyssa isn't sure if she wants to let go of Ra's hand or hold on tighter. "Who-who's that? Wh-why is he bleeding? Did you–"
Ra's laughs easily, cutting her off, as if he doesn't have a bleeding man in his home. "Mr. Smoak is our guest, Nyssa," he explains. "We would never hurt any of our guests–he simply…hurt himself." Nyssa doesn't exactly believe him–he's hurt her until she bled–but he's her father. She's supposed to believe him.
"O-okay," she murmurs. She lets go of Ra's hand to scoot behind him, bunching his robe in her fists. She doesn't like the way the man keeps glaring at her.
"There's no need to be afraid, my daughter." Ra's grabs Nyssa's shoulder and yanks her out from behind him. "He won't hurt you. In fact, he needs your help to feel better."
"Really?" she says weakly. Ra's nods. "But there are healers to help him with that. I-I'm not a healer."
Ra's kneels in front of her; sets his powerful hands on her shoulders. "Nyssa," he says slowly, "this is only something you can help him with. If you help him, he won't be able to be hurt again. If you help him, I'll be very proud. Don't you want to make me proud?"
Nyssa twiddles her thumbs, glancing at the man on his knees. A proud father is much better than a disappointed father. Plus, she'll be helping this man. Her mama sits her down at least once a month to give her the same lecture.
"When your father begins requesting things of you–things you might not like," Amina would say, "remember to help people, not hurt them. Promise me you will do whatever you can to help people." And Nyssa would say, "I promise." And that would be that.
Nodding slowly, she says, "Yeah."
Ra's raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"
"Okay."
A smile spreads across his face again. It's not warm like the last one; not exactly. It's…it's a little eerie with the lights casting shadows, and Nyssa wants to run out of here as fast as she can.
She doesn't, though, even when Ra's snaps his fingers and the guard from outside–not Shiva, but the other one–enters. He picks up a sword from the rack–a shiny one, with an engraved gold hilt and a red jewel on the bottom. It's a favorite one of Nyssa's. She always admires it whenever her father wears it in his sheath.
The guard drops to his knees, head down as guards tend to do whenever the Demon's Head and/or the Heir are in their presence. The blade lays flat on his palms as he offers it to her.
Nyssa glances at her father. He nods his head towards the blade. "Go on. Take it."
So, she does.
It's heavy; made for a man instead of a child, but it's one of her father's thinner and more decorative swords, so she's able to hold it without help, at least for a little while. She marvels at it. She can already imagine–her, with her father's ring and robes, commanding the world's greatest army with this sword in her hand.
Ra's seems to know what she's thinking, as he says, "It's your birthright, my daughter."
"My birthright," she echoes. Nyssa al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, Heir to the Demon. She's getting the same excited thrill she has whenever Momma hangs up one of her drawings, or says they're going to town that day.
"Come." Ra's stands, puts a hand on her back, and leads her over to the man. "It is also your birthright to rid the world of illness. This man is very ill."
Nyssa snaps her eyes from the sword to her father. "But you said he hurt himself…?"
Ra's sighs sadly. "It is his own fault he is ill. People like him…they choose this life, and their choices hurt other people. They spread their illness throughout the world, tainting the ones closest to them.
"This is the League's sole purpose, Nyssa; to stop people like him from getting anyone else sick. Do you understand?"
"Ummm…" She pauses; purses her lips; thinks. "Yes…?"
This is enough for Ra's, apparently, as he claps her on the back and says, "Good." He kneels again, keeping a hand on her back. "What I need you to do for me, Nyssa, is take my blade and drag the sharp edge right along" –the man tries to flinch away from the hand Ra's extends to him, but one of the men fists his hair and shoves him forward again so that Ra's can trace a finger over his neck– "here."
"Wh-what?!" Nyssa squeaks, dropping the sword with an echoing clang. "But-but won't that…hurt him?" she whispers harshly, scared of the bound man hearing.
"Don't test me, child," Ra's growls, seemingly running out of patience. He snatches her wrist, causing her to cry out with how much his grip hurts. He only tightens his fingers when she tries to struggle. "It's fine. It won't hurt when you learn to do it right, and you will learn. It's your birthright."
"But-but–" Nyssa gasps through the lump forming in her throat. Her eyes start to mist at the pain.
"Pick up the sword!" Ra's snarls. He pulls her arm downward, and her palm catches on the sharp edge, and, yes, this will hurt the bound man–but she wraps her fingers around the hilt anyway.
Ra's lets go of her arm as soon as she picks it up. She glances at him. He's calm now. She's not; still sniffling and shaking and bleeding.
"Now, my daughter," he says soothingly, as if she isn't bleeding all over the sword because of him, "as I instructed."
She looks at the bound man. His eyes are wide with panic.
The guards are faceless to her, and she doesn't notice when they go missing. She doesn't have any friends to lose. The only real run-in with death she's had so far is when she saved a baby bird one night and when she went to check on it in the morning, it wasn't moving. But Momma had told her it went to sleep, and that Shiva would deliver it to a bird rescue where it would live a happy life. Nyssa didn't have any reason not to believe Momma.
She's six years old; she doesn't understand death yet.
Maybe, this man will go to sleep, like the bird, she reasons. Ra's said it wouldn't hurt him.
She raises the sword, slowly. She tries to drag it across the man's neck at on equally slow pace, but as soon as it makes contact, blood spills all over her hands, red and warm, and oh no no no, the man's screaming and hurting and oh why did she do this how could her father convince her to do this she wants to take it backbackback–
She loses some time, apparently, because when she blinks again, she's on her father's lap, shaking and sobbing into his shoulder. Ra's grabs her face, rougher than he probably should, and forces her to look at him. He's frowning, even after what she did for him.
"No tears, child," he commands, releasing her. "You aren't allowed to feel mercy."
She wipes the tears away from her eyes and clears the snot from her nose the best she can. She stops the former from flowing, at least–Shiva taught her how to stop crying on command.
"Now smile. You're proud of what you've just done, and you should be. It's you birthright to rid the world of illness. That was your first step to doing so."
She tries. She fails. A swirling pit of something ("Guilt," Mama will explain later, despair written all over her face for the monster Ra's is making her daughter into.) gnaws at her stomach, sucking all will to do something as simple as smile out of her.
Ra's sighs in disappointment. "We shall work on that tomorrow," he tells her. He yells, "Shiva!" and the woman enters, and he snaps, "Clean her up. Put her to bed. I want her up bright and early in the morning."
Shiva takes her from Ra's, and Nyssa lets her. She clutches onto her shoulders and stares blankly at nothing as she tries to process what just happened.
"Al-Owal," she hears her father say as Shiva carries her out of the room, "I want all of the prisoners brought here at first light. She'll make a killer yet."
AN: I've just been having a lot of Nyssa al Ghul feelings lately. Especially about her relationship with her mother.
If they had a good relationship, Nyssa had someone who loved her a little while. …But that would mean she would have lost the only person she loved.
If they had a bad relationship, Nyssa would have had someone who loved her, but she wouldn't have lost the only person she loved.
So I'm actually not sure if I want them to have a good relationship or a bad one. I'd love to hear which one you'd prefer.
This was not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any grammatical errors, please inform me so that I may fix them.
Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow. If I did, Nyssa would be the main character and she'd be treated 167% better than she is in canon.
Constructive criticism is welcome, and reviews FEED MY DEMONIC POWERS! BWA HA HA!