(Thea)
"Let's Go Out Tonight!" scream the banners and the billboards and the cover photos.
Oh please! oh please!
Could we not?
It may be summer in Starling, but the last thing I want to do is watch the rest of the world whisper behind their hands and layers of "Maybe"s and "Easy Breezy"s and clamours of being "Worth It" tied in tiny bikini bottoms as they look at me.
Thea Merlyn.
Wow.
Never thought I'd see the day.
Admittedly, that may not be a one hundred percent accurate statement. Because you know, back when I was just Ollie's kid sister. Back when I was just Speedy. Back when Tommy was the oh so oblivious prince to my not so Cinderella (because when your last name is Queen, let's face it: your story may sound bleak at times, but a rags to riches tale it is not). Back then, there had been this little wish in my heart, this little corner of my mind that just, kinda knew that I was destined to be a Merlyn.
Here's the thing kids: Fate? Don't tempt her. She's got this thing for Irony, and they both ended up doing quite the Cha Cha Cha with my life line.
And of course, it couldn't just be me who got the super treatment could it? No, everyone else had to be dragged in to this mess. Malcolm made sure of that. Now Tommy's back from the land of the sleepy sleep with a truckload of nightmares that Malcolm assures me are "nothing serious", compared to what other horrors the Lazarus pit could have bestowed upon him. Laurel's caught between honouring her sister- also not dead just btw- and trying to take care of Tommy. Roy's with Mr. Diggle, training to take care of the city while also, you know, taking care of the city. There's the guy who took over QC flying around in a metal suit for Pete's sake. And then... there's her.
My older sister.
Felicity's an enigma. She's bright colours and a quiet look. She's brief yet coherent business meetings and rambling yet oh so entertaining babbles. She's red heels with nerdy glasses. She's Felicity.
She's my half sister.
She's also the woman my brother loves- loved- loves? Before he went missing.
I am so tired of trying to hate her.
But it's the only thing keeping me sane.
It would be so easy, I think, to snap that little twig she calls a neck.
But Oliver loves her.
It would be so easy- a scathing word to get her to shut up.
But I like her rambling.
It would be so interesting to see how many of those Bratva guards I could take out getting to her before they take me down.
But she's so sweet.
Even Tommy likes her.
And so do I.
Yeah. So do I.
Because when the thoughts spiral out of control, when Roy can't make it to sneak me out, when Donna's pretending to sleep and Malcolm's away, she's the one who comes to me.
She courses up the street on the red Ducatti- his bike- and looks up. And when I race down, each time, taking the steps two by two, she's the one who waits by the entrance, pink lipstick and slightly red eyes smiling as she sees me.
She looks at me and laughs. "Let's go out tonight?"
And if she's asking, of course I'll nod, because I've already put my jacket on and she's holding out the spare helmet.
"Yeah," I'll say, smiling up at the girl who was destined, one way or another, to be my sister.
"Let's go out tonight."