December 1990
Somewhere in French Alps - 3:00 am DST
The House of Shadows
The cold was angry tonight; it stalked through the mountain like a specter and struck at passersby with icy fangs. Snowflakes the size of quarters flew everywhere in an aggressive tempest, covering the mountain in a layer of dangerously slick ice. Nothing was safe from the wrath of the cold. Especially not Talia al Ghul, whose silhouette was indistinguishable from the snowy mountain terrain.
By her calculations, she was exactly two miles away from her father's Interlaken compound. The distance wasn't much; she'd traversed these mountains countless times. But tonight was different.
Tonight, she held a baby in her arms. And not just any baby: her half-sister.
The thought placed an acrimonious scowl on Talia's face. It did more than that—it ignited ten years worth of pent-up rancor and rage from her father's dismissal of her as a potential heir. Because no matter how hard she fought, how many people she killed, or how loyal she was to her father, she would never be good enough. Ra's al Ghul had chosen an infant over her, certainly with the hope that it would be everything that she wasn't.
Suddenly, a thought arose as a product of all of the deep-seated bitterness she had buried in her core. It was simple, really. If the baby was gone, by some terribly unfortunate circumstance, her father would have no choice but to give her what she had so laboriously worked for—what she was destined for. It didn't matter to Talia that her father had already implicitly rejected her as a successor; she had yet to prove herself, and she would.
She saw her father's vision with a clarity and understanding beyond her years. A pure world. Humanity, she'd learned, was past the point of salvation. It needed to be cleansed.
Soon enough, the castle-like towers of the compound loomed above her, and any thoughts of sabotaging the baby were quickly quashed. Talia grimaced at the sight of the place. She'd never liked it; the slight Gothic style and dark color scheme gave it a desolate feel that sent chills down her spine every time she caught sight.
Two guards affronted the thick double-doors that barricaded the entrance of the compound. Black robes and cloth obscured every body part besides the eyes. "The girl is here," one whispered to the other in silky Arabic."Tell the others."
Double doors swung open, the sound echoing into the dimly-lit passageway that lay ahead. Her father's footmen kneeled before her in honor, a gesture that Ra's himself had made abundantly clear was necessary in the presence of one of his own blood.
"Rise," she spoke breathily. "See to it that the proper arrangements are made for our new guest." The men readily complied.
The damp, dark passageways of the compound reminded Talia of a tomb as she began making her way to her father's quarters. She arrived at looming double doors. Had she made it on time? Ra's al Ghul was a precise man, she had learned. Everything had to be done with accuracy and exactitude. There were no "almosts" in his world, no room for trivial errors. One slight mistake could cost you your life.
She took a sharp breath before knocking.
Booming footsteps were heard through the walls before the doors swung open, revealing a man standing in the middle of an almost-empty sitting room. Talia removed her parka and curtsied.
"My daughter," spoke the sharp tongue of her father. "I assume that you've brought our asset."
She smirked. "Indeed."