Following the events of the previous chapter...

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Before Nyssa could protest more, the head of the demon's lips opened.

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'I grant you the living quarters at the end of the North hall,' he turned to look at the assassins 'I trust you know the way,' he said turning around to stand in his former position before Oliver and her. All she did was glare back at him.

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'You are dismissed, my daughter.' Then, Two armed assassins grabbed her from the arms and proceeded to pull her towards the doorway.

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'Wait,' came Oliver's still voice, turning to face her direction. 'I believe she will not run away anymore given the circumstances she has been put in. Unhand her and allow her to walk with merely an escort.'

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Nyssa turned to give him a questioning look. Ra's gave the assassins a nod and released her. She gathered herself and turned around to walk out the doorway, she looked over her shoulder briefly to give Oliver a glance with worry underlying beneath it before exiting.

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It was not wise to infiltrate such a city as Nanda Parbat. Notoriously known for not having any directions or signs, and with that, its lack of simplicity in navigation. All residents undergo a form of training in navigation and memorisation of pathways and key locations of Nanda Parbat. Obviously, excluding private locations exclusive to the League of Assassins.

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Including the room across the hall she just entered. She approached the thick wooden door, pushing down the door handle, finding it unlocked. Nyssa let herself in and took in the room, better yet it couldn't even be called living quarters, it could easily be called a suite. To her left was the large, king-sized bed; in front of her was the living room where there was a couch and a bookcase of varying languages across it. To her surprise, across the room ahead of her was balcony, curtained by a thin veil.

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She approached the veil, pulling it aside to walk out onto the balcony, welcomed by the sight of the beautiful, starry night sky. The same sky she saw when she first arrived back in Nanda Parbat.

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She was then drawn to the neatly dressed bed. The daughter of the demon sat herself on the edge of the king sized bed, creasing the blanket as she sunk into the soft mattress. Alone in the quarters her father "graciously" granted her, she let herself fall onto her back, sprawling her auburn hair along the beautifully patterned sheets.

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She shivered at the course her future had been forced upon. Nyssa was reduced to only a pawn in her father's plan now, being used to unite their family with his heir's. In return, her life would be spared. She admitted to herself that this was the better alternative to death, even though she spat at her father otherwise. It was only because of whom she'd been betrothed to.

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She turned her head into the mattress, pushing herself into the cushioning as the very thought of feeling comfort in the feeling of being betrothed to someone like Oliver, the hero vigilante, rather than some random assassin that replaced her.

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Her "betrothed" remained in the ceremonial room as she was escorted to her new quarters by a few armed assassins. Without a doubt discussing the wedding. She recalled the events that transpired just under an hour ago, the events that locked her future onto a path most undesired. Though it wasn't her choice anymore, Nyssa was now back under the authority of her father, the demon's head.

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In most circumstances, people would weep and cry to being forced into such positions. And it was exactly that, Nyssa felt the unbecoming emotion of sadness and fear creep up at her, an emotion she grew up learning to dispel and dissociate with as all they ever led to was vulnerability and fragility. These were the feelings she had only felt so rarely in her life, the most recent being the death of her beloved Sara.

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Nyssa was shaken from her thoughts as a knocking from the front door. She was surprised that there was a knock at all, she reckoned that liberty was lost the same day her father denounced her as his heir.

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Rising from the lounge, she pushed herself to her feet and walked across the room, stopping only a metre from the door.

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'Who is it?' she called. She didn't bother arming herself, being trained to be able to combat situations unarmed. A little logic kicked in when she realised why would she be attacked after just being chosen to bear an heir for her "betrothed".

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'Al Sah-him,' The Arrow announced from the other side of the door. She relaxed at this point and her hand went for the door handle. Pushing it down, she pulled the door inwards.

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Oliver stood, dressed and armed to the teeth as he was an hour ago in the ceremonial room.

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'May I come in?' he asked in the somewhat stale yet polite tone he'd been presenting all evening. Nyssa nodded, almost dumbly as she moved out of the way to let him enter. He entered the foyer of the loft, then turning on his heel to face the doorway, where there was a shorter, much under armoured assassin

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'Yumkinuk tarak, Al Rayan.'

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Al Rayan, in response only nodded and dismissed himself, walking down the hall and around the corner out of sight. The door closed behind Oliver as he strafed through the room, pulling his hood from over his head before turning to face Nyssa. As his mouth was opening to speak, he was interrupted by Nyssa interjection

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'Explain.'

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Caught off guard, Oliver was forced to do his classic motion of inhaling briefly then bringing his hands to his hips and dropping his head. As the moment passed and he gathered his thoughts, he finally replied.

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'I can explain,' was the appropriated response he'd formulated. As the words left his mouth, he'd immediately regretted it. Her actions, like most women, spoke louder than words as her eyebrows furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.

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Despite the dissatisfaction she felt with his first words to her, the words he'd uttered was the fullest confirmation she'd needed concerning the falsehood of his indoctrination. She relented to release a breath of relief that he remained the hero the people of Starling City believed in, and not an agent of the shadows answering only to her father.

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Nonetheless, she waited for a response as she allowed her eyes to do the talking as they metaphorically burned holes through his skull.

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'What do you think I'm doing Nyssa?' He started, a little too aggressive for her liking. She then realised how simple it was to put together, she'd even got the gist of it earlier in the ceremonial room.

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'You want to kill my father,' she answered, her temper diminishing.

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'There's more to it than just that, but yes.' said Oliver as he turned around to continue pacing around the room.

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'But why? You're next in line as the head of the demon it's so simple at this point. Why would you ever need to kill him?'

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'Because,' he turned around, revealing his frustrated state, 'I don't feel overly too fond of destroying my city.'

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It struck her like a bus, her eyes shut as she processed the embarrassment of not remembering one of the fundamental acts when ascending to Ra's Al Ghul. She was groomed since birth for her role as the head of the demon by her father, Ra's Al Ghul. How such a thing passed her mind, she didn't know.

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'I see that everything has fallen into place now hasn't it?' Came his rhetorical question as he took a seat on the side of her bed, taking notice of the ruffled sheets and the near impossible to see wet spot on a pillow. Nyssa took her own seat on the other side of the king-sized bed, their backs facing each other.

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'What is your plan?' She asked, her eyes tracing the patterns of the wall.

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'I...' He sighed 'am currently making it up as I go along.' Nyssa's eyes rolled at his negligence. Oliver, sensing this, continued

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'I take it we have both found ourselves on the same side again.'

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'Unfortunately.'

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Silence filled the room, both venturing into their own thoughts. Both assassins had so much in common, yet so much different. Since their first encounter, they've never gotten along. Even when they put their differences aside for Sara, there still remained an unquenchable tension between them.

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Nyssa was cold; Oliver was hot. There existed a natural incompatibility, a buffer that prevented them from cooperating and coexisting. Which was exactly what Oliver intended on working on.

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'We need to cooperate, Nyssa,' Oliver said breaking the silence.

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'I thought we've already established that by now, Queen,' she retorted coldly. Whatever warmth and vulnerability she'd gained moments earlier was shattered as her cold persona returned.

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Oliver wasn't one to give up easy, but he knew that he wasn't going to cover any ground with her tonight. Both of them were much too tired and shocked from recent events. He should have time on his side Oliver reckoned, after all complete ascension to Ra's Al Ghul should take a couple of months according to Malcolm.

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'Where are you going?' Nyssa asked Oliver as he was already making his way to the door.

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'To my quarters. We only share quarters once we're married, not before,' with that, Oliver pulled his hood up and opened the door, bade her goodnight, then closed the door.

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Nyssa felt slightly pathetic for treating Oliver the way she did, but she reasoned that was who she was and how she should always be perceived to be by everyone. With the notable exception of the people important to her, like Laurel, like Sara...

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Nostalgic wasn't the correct word to use, more poignant than anything else as she allowed the cool water to stream through her brown locks and down her face.

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Having lived in Starling City for so long meant the pleasant embrace of urban showers. Something she now missed dearly, along with the bubbly introductions to new city things from Laurel.

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The atmosphere in Nanda Parbat was stale, dull and fixed. There situated a semi-structured system for the League of Assassins, quite similarly to the armed forces around the world. The higher your position, the more flexibility in your responsibilities and scheduling.

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Nanda Parbat wasn't dictated with time, but rather the position of the sun, for it was generally memorised by all residents. At sunrise, all individuals should be awake. Despite being absent of her responsibilities for a long time, the atmosphere quickly readjusted her mind.

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She woke up at the crack of dawn and right now had exited her shower, grabbing a towel to dry her hair before moving downwards to dry her body.

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Wrapping the towel around her chest, she returned to the bedroom section of her quarters and found her league attire laid out on the bed. Someone had come in while she was showering and placed it there. Atop it was a note, it read: Return to your duties.

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There was no signature but she understood the message. Prior to her desertion, her responsibilities were extensive. There was no slack for anyone in the League, not even the daughter of the demon, and definitely not the head himself.

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She was responsible of the teaching of swordsmanship and hand to hand combat, duties she could only assume was taken up by either Oliver or her father in her absence.

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With nothing to do and no way to talk to Oliver about his plans as of the moment, she began making her way to the East hall. The East hall was where most of the combat training was situated, whereas the North hall was where special activities and miscellaneous rooms, such as her living quarters, were located.

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On the topic of time and scheduling, sunrise was swordsmanship, evening was hand to hand. As for meal times, there were only morning and evening meals, no in-betweens.

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On the way to the main combat hall in the East hall, she stopped by the mess hall, hoping to grab something to eat as she hadn't had anything since Starling City.

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The similarities to the military ended here as there was a room dedicated to the "Ghul's," which was simply eating hall for the royalty of the League of Assassins. The room was empty when she had arrived and continued to stay that way throughout her meal.

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Confused with the absence of her father and Al Sah-him, she finished her meal and left, intending to return to her duties.

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The sound of swords clashing resonated through the East hall, only growing louder as she closed in on the room. Turning into it, she found a half a dozen assassins going through the routine five-strike advance with one another. Each were paired up and one had to advance using clear cut, five strike sequence whilst the other had to block, then switch.

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At the end of the hall was her father and Oliver, both with their hands behind their back, supervising the training.

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'That's enough,' Ra's ordered, and in an instant, the assassins withdrew 'Continue with improvisatorial sparring with Al Sah-him,'

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With this, Al Sah-him drew his own blade and centred himself in the room. Nyssa stood at the doorway, watching as her father walked between the assassins until he was standing a metre from her.

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'Now that you have arrived, you understand you are to return to your duties,' the swords began clashing in the background.

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'This changes nothing,' Nyssa spat, lifting her chin at him. Her defiance did little to sway his attitude

'So it may, but you will obey and return to your duties,' and that was final as he sauntered past her, leaving the her in the room with Oliver and six assassins sprawled on the ground.

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'You will...do...better. For if you don't, your demise will only be ever closer and your mission unfulfilled,' Oliver said loudly yet solemnly, 'Up.'

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The assassins obeyed and brought themselves back to their feet, some picking up their weapons from across the room.

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'Nyssa,' He called, gesturing her to approach him. He continued as she walked towards him 'Maybe the daughter of the demon can help demonstrate the point of this exercise.'

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The point of said exercise was practically sustaining a battle, to recover and continue. Oliver compared it to ping pong; you play back and forth across the table, but even as one side strikes hard, the other must recover in order to keep it going. The failure to recover was evident in each of the fallen assassins. Ra's Al Ghul fancied the exercise with the name "improvisatorial sparring".

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Nyssa didn't feel all too good about being a training dummy for this session, but nonetheless she complied. She outstretched her hand to the assassins until a sword was placed in her hand.

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Oliver didn't rest as he gave his first strike, a simple downwards strike that she deflected to her side. He struck again and she met him halfway with a clash going back and forth a few times. Then she went for an aggressive jab, which was dodged and slapped downwards. She barely had time to recover as she blocked another one of his strikes.

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This went on for a long while to Nyssa's surprise. It became obvious to her that he was pulling his strikes a lot, either for the sake of sparring or to save her the embarrassment of being beaten once again. Oliver was not trained by the League of Assassins, yet he had the swordsmanship of a Master Assassin, on par with that of her father. Where did he acquire such a skills was a question many have asked, yet was hardly ever answered.

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'Halt,' Oliver said, ending the spar. They both didn't know how long they have been going at it, but the sweat on their backs and brows indicated for quite a long time 'Now, with each other. Go.'

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As the swords began clashing, Oliver turned around, sheathing his sword, and walked to the back of the room. Nyssa handed her blade off to the unarmed assassin and followed Oliver.

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'You're pulling your strikes,' Nyssa whispered loudly, just barely under the sound of the swords.

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'Wouldn't be much of a demonstration if I kicked your ass, now would it?' Oliver stated wittingly, barely hiding a grin as they both faced the wall. They let the silence hang for a moment until Oliver said

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'You need to put on a show tonight,'

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'Excuse me?' Nyssa exclaimed, shocked and furious at his request. What kind of woman did he expect her to be she thought as she displayed her disgust.

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'At dinner, persist with your defiance and reluctance to wed me,' he clarified 'We are running out of time, we can't risk him doubting my loyalty.'

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'Says the man without a plan,' said Nyssa, staring at Oliver incredulously.

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'I am going to meet with Malcolm after dinner,' he continued before she could protest in reaction 'he's been aiding me since my inception. He is also my only line of communication with Starling City.'

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'He also murdered Sara.'

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'He also warned me beforehand of each trial of indoctrination, which is why I am not your father's puppet,' Nyssa returned to staring at the wall in complete utter disbelief in Oliver's choice of "friends".

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'Look, this does not excuse him from the things he did, but I needed to use him for the critical information he had on the League.'

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She was seething at this point, emotions taking over as she couldn't fathom the idea of working with the man that killed the woman she loved.

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'We will discuss this further later,' was all she said before turning around to bark commands at the assassins behind them. The rest of the morning went by as it should have, instructing the lesson and criticising the faults without outbursts of anger but rather contemplative advice. Emotion was weakness in the eyes of the League, compliance and conformity to the cause was their strength.

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Hand to hand combat was being instructed by neither her father or Oliver, but rather Al Fanan, The Artist. Al Fanan has been part of the League since before Nyssa was born, he aside from her father was the one to train her in various martial arts, primarily ninjutsu.

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Unmistakably upon meeting him, one would be able to determine him to be Japanese, or at least Oliver did. Al Fanan had the features of a stereotypical Japanese sensei, and in Oliver's eyes, resembled Mr. Miyagi from Karate Kid.

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'Welcome back, Daughter of the Demon,' came the elderly man's voice as he gave her a short bow. Nyssa bowed back in respect and proceeded to orbit around the sparring assassins until she arrived beside Al Fanan.

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'It is good to see you Al Fanan,' said Nyssa, reflexively taking a step back to allow an individual to fall onto his back from fluid takedown.

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'As am I, to you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances.'

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'On that we agree,' the training system in the League of Assassins isn't all too different from lessons all over the world. You teach one thing, let the students repeat it over and over again until it is perfected, then move onto something new, until all is put to the test.

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'Al Sah-him tortured the recruits some time ago,' Nyssa raised her brow at this 'iron palm.'

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Nyssa let out a giggle at this, which was probably her farthest break from persona. The Iron Palm Water Training was simply slapping water to many, but it was realistically a training of tolerance and restraint. The only issue that existed was the length of the training sessions.

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'He understands patience. He is one in harmony with time,' he didn't stop to face her 'I believe you are due to marry him under the moon overmorrow.'

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'You are correct,' her cold persona returning quickly, and began distracting herself by observing the motions ahead of her.

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'You have my blessing and best wishes,' Al Fanan stated as he bowed once more. He was not like most at the League, most eradicated their past upon their induction, but Al Fanan kept his culture and tradition close to him. He was one of few that were privileged to do so. This handful usually consisted of individuals close or of great respect to the Demon's head.

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'Thank you Al Fanan,' she thanked with a hint of confusion in her tone. Blessing a forced marriage wasn't exactly a custom, but Nyssa interpreted it as a wish of peace and tranquility. Both of which were feelings she too wished she had, and both of which she hoped to gain at the end of this...