A few weeks later Felicity found herself riding between Sir Guy and the Sheriff of Nottingham through the very forest she had been warned to avoid. The three nobles were part of a caravan that was tasked with escorting a large sum of tax money collected from the villagers safely back to Nottingham castle and Prince John.
"Do you really think it's wise to cut through Sherwood Forest?" the Sheriff questioned Sir Guy.
"What with the archer and all?"
"Come now, Sheriff." Sir Guy said boldly.
"I didn't take you for the type of man to be scared of nonsense."
Felicity smirked slightly at the way Sir Guy's retort made the Sheriff scramble to recover his dignity.
"Oh, of course not! I'm not afraid, personally… I was simply asking for…security purposes." The sheriff stammered in reply.
"He's right. Shouldn't you be at least a little concerned about the archer? This is his domain after all. He's bound to be bravest here." Felicity responded, turning to look confidently at Sir Guy on her right.
"The archer is a petty thief and untrained. He'd stand no chance against a group of armed soldiers such as this." Sir Guy scoffed.
"Besides, if we are afraid to enter the forest, we will have let him win. We have to let him know who is still in charge of this kingdom."
No sooner had Sir Guy finished his words when green clad men dropped from the trees overhanging the path, taking the caravan by surprise. They knocked soldiers from their horses, while more men swung in from the sides and attacked the other riders. A large commotion broke out as horses panicked, the men scuffled, and soldiers desperately tried to find their weapons.
"It's an ambush!" The Sheriff cried.
Felicity drew her dagger from its holster on her waist, but quickly realized that the group was hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded.
The fight slowed to a stop as a familiar figure dropped from the trees to stand on a large rock overlooking the group.
"Well if it isn't Prince John's favorite lackeys, come to deliver their tax money to me directly. You make my job too easy, gentlemen." The archer teased.
Felicity took a moment to study the man up close. It was obvious he spent his time outdoors – his tunic was slightly worn, and his arms were tan from the sun. He was in perfect shape, every muscle toned, and his confident stance commanded the attention of all those in his presence. But underneath the hood she caught a glimpse of his short, rough beard and piercing blue eyes, and suddenly couldn't help feeling the same tug at her soul as she did that fateful day in the field.
"You are a tyrant and a thief!" Sir Guy yelled at the archer from his horse.
"How dare you attack the king's men! Why I…"
"What can you do, Sir Guy? It's clear that my men outnumber yours. You'd never be able to fight your way out." The archer retorted slyly as he hopped down from his position on the rock.
"But since you have been so generous to us this day, we must find a way to repay you. Men!" he turned to address his rugged band.
"Escort Sir Guy and his guests back to camp. We must feast this day in his honor!"
A cry broke out among the men as they eagerly ran to escort the caravan through the forest. Two men came to lead Sir Guy and the Sheriff's horses, while the archer made his way over personally to Felicity.
"And how does such a refined woman find herself in the company of these scoundrels?" The man questioned her as he took a hold of her mare's bridle, his tone somehow both playful and serious.
Despite the undetectable increase in her heart rate, Felicity steeled herself against the stranger.
"Why it seems they have ambushed our caravan of innocent travelers." She replied, coldly.
A slight smile crept across the archer's face at her retort.
"It seems my lady is mistaken. Who would you call the scoundrel – the man who takes back what was wrongfully seized from the poor, or the man who unjustly stole it in the first place?"
The man turned to look Felicity in the eye. She opened her mouth to retort, but then slowly closed it, unsure of how to respond. With a nod of understanding, the archer turned away, and continued to lead Felicity's mare through the winding paths of the forest.
The group finally arrived at a large circular clearing. A single large oak, it's gnarled and weathered limbs reaching towards the sky, stood at its center. Some of the men corralled the soldiers on the right side of the clearing, while the others took to looting the caravan's wagons. Excited shouts rang out as chest upon chest of gold shillings were passed down from man to man, while provisions were handed off to a heavyset man by a roasting spit.
Soon tables laden with roasted meats and delectable fruits filled the clearing. The soldiers were ushered to their seats as Felicity, the Sheriff, and Sir Guy were seated at the head table between several outlaws.
"You all will be hanged for this." Sir Guy snarled as a man forced him into his seat.
"Stealing from the king is a serious offense."
"But we haven't stolen from the king, Sir Guy." The archer stated with an air of righteousness as he came up behind the man.
"It is you who have stolen from the king's people, and we intend to return the money to the rightful sovereign."
The archer gracefully leapt up onto the table amidst the feast.
"Men!" He addressed his band, drawing their attention with a wave of his hand.
"Sir Guy has unjustly stolen from our good English brethren, falsely claiming that the funds will go to pay King Richard's ransom. But our good friend intends to send it back to Prince John in Nottingham to fatten his personal coffers. Now, since this money has fallen into our laps by good fortune, what should we do with it? Keep it for ourselves?"
"No! No!" The men shouted adamantly.
"Send it to Richard! Send it to the king!"
As the shouts of accord continued, the archer hopped down from the table to take a seat at Felicity's right side.
"You are very bold to accuse Sir Guy of such things." Felicity said curtly.
"But I feel my lady is not so simple as to trust the man at his word." The archer replied, dipping his head slightly and looking her straight in the eyes. The man was so close now she could see every scruff of hair on his face, the sparkle of light in his blue eyes, and smell his earthy scent.
"I…" Felicity started to reply, but the archer suddenly stood up and offered her his hand.
"Here, let me show you something."
Felicity stared at the man's hand, extended across the space between them. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand in his, and felt his sturdy grip wrap around hers as he helped her stand up from the bench.
She caught Sir Guy's angry stare as she glanced behind her before accompanying her host into the woods beyond the clearing. After following a short path, the archer pushed aside a veil of leaves to reveal a small open area where dozens of men, women, and children were congregated. Felicity caught her breath as she took in their ragged clothes, dirty faces, and often bandaged limbs.
"Who are these people?" Felicity asked in shock.
"They're the ones who couldn't pay Sir Guy's 'ransom.'" The archer replied, turning to look at Felicity with a solemn expression as they walked through the clusters of refugees.
"Their possessions were seized, they were run out of their homes, and those that put up a fight were beaten. If it weren't for this camp, they'd have nowhere else to go."
"Thank you kind sir!" A rugged fellow said earnestly as he reached up to grip one of the archer's hands with both his own.
"If it wasn't for you, I don't know what my family would have done!"
The archer patted the man's hand comfortingly before he and Felicity continued on their way. Soon the two passed through another veil of leaves and left the camp behind.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." The archer said as he stopped to face Felicity.
"But I hope now you understand why I do what I do."
"And I'm sorry for judging you." Felicity apologized.
"You are a man of much more integrity than those back in Nottingham would have me believe."
"Perhaps we shall start over? And pretend we have only just met?" The archer asked with a slight smile.
"Yes, I would like that."
Without breaking Felicity's gaze, the archer swiftly pulled back his hood to reveal his full face.
"Felicity Smoak," He stated before gently kissing the back of her hand.
"Hello. I'm Oliver Queen."