She could still feel it. Warm and sticky, staining her clothes, coating her hands, dripping from her hands. Remembers looking down at the men on the floor, knives and arrows protruding from their lifeless bodies. She felt sick. They deserved it. A voice in the back of her mind said. She looked down at her hands. They were clean, yet she could still the blood, the blade in her hand as she drove it into the heart of the merciless warlord. She remembers the life draining from his cold, cruel, unforgiving eyes. She wonders (not for the first time) if her friends and family back in Starling would still see her as a hero, as the Canary, if they could see the blood on her hands. If Laurel would still see her as the beautiful savior. If her father would still see her as his little firecracker. If Felicity would still see her as a good person; someone deserving of her friendship. Even Ollie would look at her different. They wouldn't see her as Sara Lance: The Canary but as Sara Lance: The Canary, Ta-er al-Sahfer, the assassin, a murderer.
She felt something drip onto her hands. Confused, she looked down. Water? It wasn't until she felt soft hands wiping her cheek, that she realized she was crying.
She looked up into the dark yet compassionate eyes of the one person who wouldn't judge her. The woman who looked at her like she was a goddess, no matter what. To most people she is known as Nyssa al Ghul. Daughter of Ra's al Ghul. Heir to the Demon. A murderer. To Sara, she was just Nyssa. The hands that ended lives, would run through her hair, and softly caress her skin. The voice that struck fear in the hearts of men, soothed her nightmares and calmed what was left of her soul. The face that warlords and kings dreaded to see, made her dark days infinitely brighter. Nyssa was her friend, her lover, her light.
Nyssa moved to wrap her arms around Sara and place a kiss on her forehead. She felt Sara bury her head in the crook of her neck and her arms squeeze tighter around her waist. When she felt hot tears hit her neck, she leaned down to whisper in Sara's ear. "Shhh, little bird. It will be alright, my love." Nyssa laid them on her bed and began running a hand through Sara's golden hair. After a while, Sara started to drift. Breathing in the scent of Jasmine, sweat, and something that was just purely Nyssa, Sara thought that as long as Nyssa was there, Sara would be alright.