The Arrow's Bride

A/N: Finally, here is the last chapter of this fic. But before anything else, I'd like to apologize for the delay in completing and posting this. Arrow 5x14 & 5x15 were not exactly easy to watch, and the aftermath of having to deal with how the relationships in the story line is progressing literally took away the motivation to write. But the inspiration is back, and I'm back. I hope this will be a satisfying ending to a story that you have read, followed, reviewed, and hopefully, clicked "favorite" for.

I would certainly appreciate it if you take the time to leave a review, especially if you haven't already done so in the previous chapters. Do let me know what you think of this story as it comes to a close. Once again, a big THANK YOU for reading this story, especially the Guests who reviewed that FF doesn't let me reply to, and Keeper (who I believe has been patiently waiting for this chapter for two weeks already). Enjoy!

PART 3 - My King, My Queen

Everyone dreaded this moment.

Oliver's sister Thea despised it almost as much as she despised the day her mother told her that her brother wasn't coming back from the Crusades, and that her father's heart had suddenly and tragically given out at the news. When Thea learned from her lady-in-waiting that Lady Felicity had been brought home bleeding after she was rescued by Oliver and his men from the Rochev Manor, she had wanted to rush to her sister-in-law's chambers. But her mother, the Baroness Moira had given the servants specific and strict instructions not to let Thea out of their sight and to keep her from storming the Lady's chambers, as she and her son did not want another frantic person to be anxious about, considering the emergency at hand.

But the clever, young Queen mistress had found a way to elude the servants who were supposed to have been watching her. She would have barged into Felicity's room unannounced, had she not been unpleasantly greeted by her sister-in-law's agonizing screams and ghastly groans from behind the closed oak door. Thea's eyes had widened in horror as her trembling hands let go of the iron bars and retreated backwards in tiny, tentative steps, until her brother held her by her shoulders from behind to steady her. She had been in tears instantly, and had clung to Oliver for dear life when he embraced her.

"What on earth is wrong with her, dear Ollie? What will happen to the child?" Thea had asked. There had been four grown men in that gloomy hallway, but none of them had been able to give her a definite answer that would provide the least bit of comfort. Young Roy Harper, whom Thea had taken a unique liking for in the months prior, had taken her from her brother's arms when Oliver asked him to, and escorted her back to her room, leaving her under the charge of a maidservant.

Oliver's own mother Moira loathed this moment, too. John the Moor had immediately given orders to the servants in her presence, upon the explicit instruction of Lord Oliver (who had already stepped out of the room), and just as he had finished explaining to the baroness the procedure they were to undertake to save the Lady Felicity and her unborn child, the Queen matriarch had begun to shout at the top of her lungs for him, Yao Fei, and Maseo to get out of her house. The solution that they were proposing had been absolutely repulsive to her, and she had called it barbaric and inhuman, vehemently arguing against what the foreigners intended to do. Oliver had returned to the room to quell his mother's resistance and assuage her fears, pointing out that this was the only way to save the lives of both Queens, one of which was to be her grandchild, the heir of Starling's most noble family. That had been enough to put Moira at ease for the time being, and even to get her to cooperate with the foreigners who only meant to be of help. Within a minute, she had been the one to start barking orders at everyone in the room.

As soon as Yao Fei had brought out his needles and set his materials in place, he had drawn near to Felicity and whispered something that had somehow calmed her. But when the women in the room realized what he was about to do to their mistress, the youngest servant had fled the room frantically, having decided that watching her mistress's body punctured by multiple needles was too much for her fainting heart to bear. Two of the older maidservants did not last very long either. When John had begun to sterilize the knife to be used for the incision on their mistress, they, too, had panicked and taken leave, protesting against the brutality of what was about to take place, and begging the baroness not to force them to take part in it.

Only one other elderly female servant named Raisa had remained in the room to help. The older woman assured them of her loyalty, stating that she was as ready as Lyla and the men in the room to be of assistance, saying that any alternative to save the Lady and the child she was carrying in her womb – Oliver's son – was worth a chance. Raisa had been Oliver's own wet nurse, and she had practically raised him like a son until it was time for him to learn a young man's trade. She told the baroness that she would do anything for the future heir of the Lord of Starling.

Lyla herself had recoiled at the thought of what they were about to do, fighting back the urge to vomit when the incision was made, but for some reason, her insides had tolerated the gruesome procedure to the end. It was not only because she had witnessed in awe and wonder how a process so desperate, daring, and dangerous had been able to deliver another precious human being into this world; it was also because she had put her trust in John, the dark-skinned foreigner who had become one of her dearest and closest friends in the past year.

Truth be told, John had been the last person on earth that Lyla would have thought of befriending, what with his perplexing views of life and his bizarre ways of doing mundane tasks. But the Moorish fellow had been the kindest and gentlest of the male species that she had ever met, notwithstanding his enormous built and warrior-like qualities, so Lyla had developed a certain fondness for the stranger, despite his color and cultural oddities.

The feelings they had had been mutual, which was something that John and Lyla had tried to conceal from everyone else for fear of contempt – albeit unsuccessfully from Lord Oliver and Lady Felicity, who both could see right through the pretense and had known quite well of her and John's special relationship. Their master and mistress had not encouraged their extraordinary friendship but had not hindered it either. Lord Oliver had even told John in one of their quiet conversations that, if and when he gets the chance to be the monarch of Arrowland, he was going to see about enacting laws that would give equal rights to foreigners that had been allowed to settle in the kingdom as free men. And one such right that he secretly wanted to include in that decree (for the sake of his dear friend and brother-at-arms) was the right to intermarry with the people of his realm.

Someone else had been utterly displeased with the news of this dreadful situation. The unexpected guest had arrived at the Manor, scurrying down the hallways until he reached the Lady Felicity's chambers. Her good friend, Friar Ray, had taken his donkey as soon as one of the female servants had arrived quite hurriedly from the Manor to the abbey. The woman had reported to him that an unthinkable, diabolical act was about to take place in the Queen home. The good friar had ridden swiftly in order to try to prevent the pagan act from happening.

The moment Friary Ray had come face to face with Oliver (who had been standing guard outside his wife's room), he had begun to protest fervidly, pleading with his friend's spouse as a faithful Christian adherent to put an end to the atrocity taking place on the other side of the huge wooden door that he was being barred from entering. Oliver had stood his ground, silent and unperturbed, refusing to move away from the door or to hearken to the cleric's indignant demands.

But when the friar ignorantly and impulsively accused him of sanctioning the slaughter of his own wife, Oliver had seen red. Oliver lost control of his temper and was about to smite the naïve monk. It was a good thing that Rene, Rory, and Roy had been there to hold him back and reason with him that it would do no one any good to harm a man of the cloak. So, Oliver instead grabbed the friar by that cloak and dragged him down the hallway away from Felicity's chambers, telling his accuser that the physician had given up and that this was the only way to save the lives of his wife and his unborn child. Friar Ray had seen his sincerity and the desperation in his eyes, and after pondering on that thought with beads of sweat all over his face, the cleric had decided that the life of his friend and of the baby in her womb were worth giving the foreigners' outlandish attempt at life-saving a chance. He had given his word that none among his parishioners in Starling, including the attendants of the Queen household, would speak of what happened that night. No bishop or cardinal would hear of it. It was going to be a secret that he would carry to his grave.

Everyone who cared enough for the Lord and Lady of Starling was anxiously and restlessly waiting for good news to emerge from the old oak doors, but none was as frightened for the Arrow's bride and and child as the Arrow himself.

The Arrow's bride. That was a title that Felicity never imagined she would be bestowed with, a title she had eventually become proud of claiming for herself.

Even before the announcement of their wedding had been made by the royal herald in the castle and in every town and countryside of the realm, nobles and commoners and peasants alike had begun calling the legendary archer-warrior that had saved them all "The Arrow." After the siege and the defeat and retreat of the remnants of the barbarians, Sir Oliver, the lost-and-found knight and favored son of Starling – had become their hero. They had hailed his name wherever the tale was told of his bravery and cunning, as well as those of his men.

Every man, woman, and child had spoken of The Arrow with pride and joy; that is, everyone except Felicity. Her mother, Queen Donna, had tried to persuade her every single day from the announcement of their betrothal until the day of the wedding to change her sentiments about the man she had been promised to wed, but Felicity saw nothing in Lord Oliver but the people's champion, not hers. She had held nothing personal against the man, but everything against the predicament she had been in where there had been no way out, where she had felt powerless and insignificant and used… like a pawn.

On their wedding night, Felicity had first seen her wedded husband, The Arrow, pick up his bow and arrow. She had to admit that she'd been momentarily scared and puzzled at what he had intended to do with the weapons when they had been alone in his bedchamber, struggling with the thought that every guest down at the great hall had been expecting something else to happen between them. However, her instant groom – a mystery of a man – had not used those to harm or hurt her. Instead he had used the arrow to his own hurt; he had cut himself and presented the blood-stained sheets in order to show her how much he respected her and her dignity. Felicity had never forgotten how she had felt at that moment, how much she had appreciated that noble, gracious act, and how much she had admired him for more than his heroic feat of saving the kingdom. In fact, that night she had begun to admire The Arrow as a gentleman. For the first time in the weeks that had passed, she had reconsidered her presupposition that she would never be able to find true love since she had already been trapped in an arranged marriage.

In the first month of their marriage when they had still been living within castle walls at the explicit orders of King Malcolm, Felicity would overhear chatter among the servants and the guards about how much everybody highly regarded and esteemed The Arrow. Knights, squires, and soldiers had appreciated how Lord Oliver had reorganized them by rank and station and by the kind of service they rendered to the crown and the kingdom. They had admired his brilliance when it came to strategizing for future battle plans and to cause-oriented military service that the people would benefit from.

Ladies of the court – married or not – had always noticed his handsome face, exquisite form, and courteous demeanor, not minding at all how stern and broody the Lord of Starling had tended to be like. Felicity had become the object of every noblewoman's envy, but she hadn't known then whether to feel secretly jealous and upset over it, or to be flattered and proud of her status in life. She had admired The Arrow for his brave and noble deeds, but it hadn't meant that she had also admired her husband, or so she thought. She had gone for months without admitting it to herself that the hero in the green hood and the husband in the purple tunic were one and the same.

Yet night after night that they had spent in his chambers, bonding over their common love for sacred and secular literature and stories, music, and mind games, Felicity had gradually abandoned the initial dislike and indifference towards her husband. Day after day she had learned one new thing about the kind of man she had married, and she had seen him more and more clearly for who he truly was – an obedient son and a caring older brother, a hard-working leader with a servant's heart that looked out for the interests of the people of Starling, and a fearless fighter who ensured the safety and well-being of his constituents and worked to secure peace and order there.

Once Oliver and his archers had gone to help contain a riot among the peasants that tilled the land for the Rochevs. The rioters had claimed that they were being treated unfairly and threatened if they complained or voiced their grievances to the authorities. On another occasion (at just about the same time when Felicity had discovered his nightmares and started her furtive evening visits into his room), Oliver and his men had traveled north to ascertain rumors that barbarian spies had come down from the mountains and scaled the northern wall again. Felicity had feared for her husband's safety, but he reassured her that he would come back to her soon in one piece. She had clung to him for dear life as he tried to bid her farewell, and at the very last moment, she had let him go, but not before she planted a chaste but earnest kiss on his cheek. Not only had it been the first time she had kissed him; it had also been the first time she realized that she had already learned to care about him from her heart.

Her growing fondness and feelings had slowly turned into genuine love and care, which had gradually outweighed the misgivings she had of her lot in life. Until finally, the scale had tipped in favor of welcoming him into her life and opening her heart to the man she had wed out of submission months ago. The turning point had occurred on the night when she had first lain beside him on his bed and pressed herself against him to comfort him in the aftermath of one of the most disturbing nightmares she had witnessed him having. The slow but sure change in her attitude and feelings towards him had culminated on the night when she had first let him have her completely, body and soul, and they had truly and fully become one flesh.

The Arrow's bride had become the happiest woman on the face of the earth, for she was dearly loved and cherished by her husband, her hero, her champion. She, in turn, had made him the happiest man on the face of the earth the day she told him a few months later that she was carrying his child, The Arrow's first progeny.

It had been a most fortuitous day.

For the past few weeks prior, Oliver had been occupied with running the affairs of the Manor by himself because the baroness and his sister had accompanied Felicity for a much-awaited visit with the Queen at the castle miles and miles away from Starling. Oliver and Felicity had been staying in Starling for more than a year already, and his wife had begun to miss her mother, so Oliver thought that the best gift he could give to his beloved on her birthday was to let her stay in the king's castle for a time. After they sent word to the castle through a messenger, the queen had sent back her greetings and extended an invitation to the Queens to come with the Lady Felicity. Moira and Thea had obliged, and Oliver had been relieved that Felicity would be surrounded by trusted companions during her vacation in the castle. He, on the other hand, opted to stay behind to attend to business in the Manor and in Starling.

About four weeks later, Felicity had surprised Oliver by her unexpected return. She had arrived in the late afternoon with her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, Lyla her maid, and their chaperons Roy and Rory (whom Oliver had sent along with a small contingent of armed men to safeguard his family on their journey and vacation). He welcomed her with open arms and a passionate kiss that told her how much he had missed her while she'd been away.

But as soon as their lips parted, she had lost her balance in a sudden dizzy spell. She had tried to break free from his embrace to run away, but he had swiftly scooped her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way into his bedchamber, where she had spent a good quarter of an hour retching and emptying the contents of her stomach into a basin that Lyla had gotten for her in a hurry. Oliver had been worried about her, supposing that she had gotten sick somehow, but she had simply told him that it was just probably her body's response to the long journey coming home, and that all she needed was some rest. He had taken her word for it and pushed away the troublesome thoughts from his mind so as not to ruin the blissful moment of his dear wife's homecoming.

Lyla had been sent to fetch Felicity more comfortable clothing, and by the time the maid had returned, the retching had ceased. After Lyla had finished assisting her mistress in washing and changing from travel clothes, she had been dismissed and instructed to serve the evening meal for Felicity in the room later.

As soon as Lyla had left the master's chambers, Oliver had removed his footwear and his tunic, got on the bed, and pulled his wife closer to him, her back against his warm chest. "I've missed you, my love… very much," he had told her sweetly. "Twas a pleasant surprise, your homecoming." He had smiled as he kissed her temple.

"I'm delighted that my surprise pleased you, my lord," Felicity had replied, laughing a bit shyly. "I, too, have missed you, terribly so. My mother didn't want to let me leave so soon. She begged for me to tarry another week, but I told her that I cannot keep the famed Arrow and esteemed Lord of Starling waiting for much longer."

"Hmm… I am pleased even more, dear Felicity," Oliver had remarked, this time sighing contentedly as his hand caressed her hip. "I'm afraid I might have died a miserable death if you had waited another week to come home to me," he added as he slid his hand up the curve of her waist and touched her front tenderly.

Felicity had let out a shy giggle at his words and gesture. Had she been facing him, he would have seen her lovely grin and the scarlet blush that shaded her face. She loved it when the fearsome Arrow that vile villains trembled at would become mawkish and maudlin in their private moments.

Oliver had wondered if it were just him or if he had been right in thinking that something about his wife's familiar bosom had changed. He would have dismissed the thought, since he hadn't been with her or touched her for a month, but her slight flinch had somehow indicated that he might have been right. He had not, however, called her attention on the matter, thinking that she might find it inappropriate or embarrassing. He had not wanted them to argue on such a trivial concern when they should be enjoying each other's company after having been apart for almost a month.

Unbeknownst to him, Felicity had already known for weeks that she was already carrying their firstborn. She hadn't recognized the signs before she had left to visit her mother, attributing the nausea and stomach trouble to something she might have eaten. A week before she and her in-laws were set to depart for the king's castle, she had had bouts of vomiting, but she had kept it from Oliver because she did not want him to cancel the trip altogether on account of her health. She had successfully kept her physical condition from her husband, but she had not been as successful in keeping it from her mother and mother-in-law. As soon as they had gotten settled in the castle's guest chambers, Moira had inquired about her health because she had mildly vomited twice along the journey. Felicity easily dismissed it, though, saying that she just really wasn't used to very long trips.

But three days into their vacation, Moira had seen and observed enough to infer that her daughter-in-law was indeed expecting a child. Instead of coming to Felicity about her suspicions a second time and risk being dismissed again, the baroness approached the queen and broached the subject, expressing concern that Felicity needed to be told of her situation so that she could be given proper care and attention. Queen Donna had been thrilled to hear of the news and had appreciated the baroness's concern and discretion. After composing herself, the queen had gone to see her daughter one night after dinner and talked her through the signs and safeguards of pregnancy.

Felicity had been flabbergasted upon discovering that she was indeed expecting their first child, unable to sleep with all the thoughts that ran wild in her brilliant brain and the mixed emotions of wonder, excitement, fear, and feelings of inadequacies that overwhelmed her heart.

It happened that on that fortuitous day of revelation, dinner had passed uneventfully for Lord Oliver. Felicity had supper in his chambers, while Oliver dined with the baroness and younger sister in the dining hall. Towards the end of the meal, he had asked his mother, "Mother, is the Lady Felicity well? I am anxious that she might have come home somewhat ill. She looks paler than usual, and she's had to relieve herself more often than usual from the time of your arrival until sundown."

"Whatever do you mean, Lord Oliver? The Lady's health was sound when we left the castle. In fact, she was in such good spirits and very much excited to see you again," had been the reply of the baroness.

"Did Raisa or Lyla not tell you how she felt dizzy and retched when she arrived?" he had asked.

"Oh, yes, they did," Moira had answered while nodding. "But there ought to be no cause for alarm. I'm sure the Lady Felicity will be back to her usual self when she gets adequate rest. It was a long and tiring journey."

"But… Do you not notice anything odd about her?" Oliver asked again, clearly unsatisfied with his mother's explanation. He had shifted his worried gaze from his mother to his sister Thea.

The baroness had flashed him the kind of smile that he had recognized as Moira Queen's favorite expression when she wants him to listen instead of panic. "My dear, dear son, your wife is a very strong young woman, inside and out. I'm sure that in the morning, she will feel much better. She will be in the best mood to tell you stories about our vacation and some wonderfully pleasant news as well." There had been something in the twinkle of his mother's eyes that he hadn't been able to decipher just yet. To avoid further scrutiny, Moira had immediately changed the subject and said, "Oh, your mother-in-law… the queen, I mean, sends their best regards. And King Malcolm asks when you can pay the castle a visit and train the newly recruited castle guards in archery."

Oliver had dropped the subject, and after a few more minutes of discussing with the baroness how he had managed the affairs of the Manor and of Starling while they were gone, he had politely taken leave to retire to his chambers and see to his wife's condition.

What greeted him upon his return was completely but delightfully unforeseen. Felicity had been waiting for him. Beautiful and breath-taking in the firelight, she had stood next to his four-poster bed in the same evening gown she had worn on their wedding night. He had recognized it because she had looked exactly like the angel that he had found to be undeniably attractive on that memorable night. She had even braided her magnificent long blonde hair in the same way. She had let her gown's neckline fall off her shoulder in a most alluring way, and she had smiled at him with desire in her eyes, beckoning him to approach her.

Oliver had slowly closed the distance between him and his beloved and said, "I see you have indeed missed your husband, my lady."

"I have, my lord," Felicity had said in response, biting her lip mischievously.

"I am glad," he had teased, reaching for her shoulder.

"I am, too," she had teased back, holding back the naughty grin that had begun to form on her face.

"Are you quite certain you are well?" he had asked, genuinely concerned about her well-being. "The last thing I want is to inconvenience my beloved."

"No worries, my love," she had reassured him in response, cupping his jaw line with her soft, tiny hand. As a crimson blush crept upon her face, she had added, "I am well. We are well."

She had spoken those last three words with her hands folded on her abdomen, her gaze shifting from her stomach to his face. He had wondered what she meant, but only for a moment, for when her eyes locked on to his once again, he had known.

Felicity had smiled at her husband and then slowly and softly said, "I am with child, my lord. Your child."

Those few, incredible words of good news stimulated a powerful surge of positive emotions within him, and with one final step that brought him directly in front of his wife, his lips had come crashing down on hers. And the rest of the night had been pure rapture and bliss.

But in that dreadful hour, on a day towards the end of the eighth month of her pregnancy, the Arrow's bride and child were in grave danger. There was tension in the air as the men outside the Lady Felicity's chambers awaited for news of whether or not mother and child had made it out of harm's way. There was even more tension inside the room as the foreign friends and the three women tirelessly worked together to save the lives dearest to the Lord of Starling.

Oliver and his men had found Felicity in one of the stables of the Rochev Manor. Baron Wilson had the Lady Felicity kidnapped to lure The Arrow into a trap. But thanks to the tracking skills of Oliver's loyal and clever band – the Moors, John and Curtis, in particular – that snare had been foiled. They had figured out who had taken Felicity and where she had been taken, too early in Baron Wilson's nefarious game, which was why he and his female accomplice, the Lady Isabel, had not expected The Arrow's assault on the heavily guarded Rochev premises. The masterminds of a grand yet treacherous plot to eliminate The Arrow, to murder the king, and to take over the kingdom had been discovered and cornered in the Lady Isabel's very own property. Their minions had been equalized and subdued by The Arrow's smaller but more skilled group of archer-warriors.

By the time they had found Felicity, Baron Wilson had been holding onto her in a death grip with a dagger at her throat, and the Lady Isabel right by his side. It had taken a mere distraction provided by John the Moor (who had spooked the horses in the stable) for Oliver to shoot three successive arrows into the chest of the brazenly maleficent baron, who had fallen backwards into a manger full of moldy clay. Lady Isabel had ducked to avoid the arrow that Oliver had shot, aiming at her. She had poised herself to run and escape through the nearest egress when Felicity had flung herself at her suddenly, tackling the female fiend to the hay-covered ground and pinning her down.

The villains had been vanquished, but the Arrow's bride had been injured in the process. The strain and anxieties surrounding her abduction, as well as the bad fall when she tackled the Lady Rochev, had induced premature labor, and she had begun to bleed. That had become the greatest threat at the moment.

Oliver and his men had successfully brought her back to the Queen Manor, but after the first few hours of labor, it had become obvious that the baby was in distress, somehow refusing to descend from her womb. The minutes and hours had passed, and Felicity cried out in pain and anguish as the contractions came more and more frequently. She had become exhausted in the process, and the women in the room feared that by the time the baby would begin to descend eventually, if at all, she would be too weak and worn-out to push the baby out even with their assistance.

John had arrived with Yao Fei and Maseo just in time.

While Felicity was fighting for her life and her child's under the knife of the Moor and the needles of the men from the East, Sheriff Malone arrived at the Queen Manor and asked to speak with Lord Oliver about an urgent matter. The Sheriff had spend the past few hours interrogating the Lady Rochev and had wanted to report to Lord Oliver what he had uncovered from the wily woman's forced confession.

It was revealed that King Malcolm, who in the last month had been mysteriously murdered by what the royal physician had suspected was poisoning, had played a major part in the extensive, systematic scheme of deception and betrayal to dominate Arrowland apart from the High Council, and eventually, all the other kingdoms West of the Great Lake. He and Lord Wilson had originally connived together with the Lady Isabel to invade the neighboring kingdoms and take control of the known Western world while most of the gallant and able knights were on the Crusades fighting the war against the Muslims.

The king had anticipated that the greatest threat to the successful realization of their plan was the Baron of Starling and his son, Sir Oliver, whom the king knew to be just, dignified leaders that would most likely oppose their malevolent dream of world domination. To eradicate such a threat, King Malcolm and Lord Wilson had plotted Sir Oliver's ambush in the hands of the Moors in Palestine and Baron Robert's subsequent assassination, which had been no longer necessary because Baron Robert's heart had failed upon receiving the devastating news about his son's untimely demise. Consequently, Lord Wilson had been elevated to the rank of Baron of Starling, further solidifying and strengthening their clout over the weakened High Council of the realm.

Everything had been going according to plan for King Malcolm and the Baron Wilson for quite some time. For the entire time that Sir Oliver had been away and had gotten involved in the League of Assassins, the king himself had hired mercenaries from among the mountain people to assassinate anyone in the Council that would oppose the king and the baron's schemes when they were found out. What King Malcolm and Baron Wilson had not expected was the treachery of the barbaric mountain people led by the diabolical Damian Darkh. The barbarians had turned against them and attacked the kingdom viciously upon the prompting of the hired mercenaries who had told Darkh of the impending collapse of Arrowland's disunited leadership. The barbarians had taken advantage of this weakness and the absence of most of the kingdom's knights, and had attacked when the element of surprise had been in their favor.

Another unexpected turn of events that complicated matters for the king and his accomplices was the unforeseen and astonishing return of Sir Oliver as the green-hooded Arrow and leader of a group of cunning archer-warriors. He and his men had been the ones that answered the king's call to return hastily to Arrowland and save its people from certain destruction when the castle-fort had been under siege. By sheer cunning and skill, Oliver and his men had crushed the barbarians, killed their arrogant leader, and driven back the remnants of their enemies to the mountains where they belonged.

Even more unexpected was the accolade that Sir Oliver had earned as The Arrow among the people of the land. The people had loved him and cheered him on, forcing King Malcolm to reward him substantially with honor and prestige in order to conceal their deceitful plot and to chase clouds of doubt and suspicion far away from the king and the Baron of Starling. The Arrow had become untouchable, and King Malcolm did not know how to proceed as planned with this irksome, infuriating complication getting in their way. As soon as the newlywed Queens had gone home to Starling a month after the wedding, King Malcolm, Baron Wilson, and Lady Isabel had resumed their plotting, drafting alternative and contingent plans to further their quest for power.

Their plans, however, could not materialize smoothly with the green-hooded hero hindering their every step. Lord Oliver and his men had thwarted, albeit unawares, the traitors' attempts of setting their contingent plans in motion. The archers had simply thought they were helping to keep the peace in Starling and sometimes even in the neighboring territories. They would assist the authorities in apprehending what they had previously considered to be random criminals, not knowing that those had really been Baron Wilson's spies and puppets in a larger, more evil plan. They would help contain riots and disband protests of peasants against the lords and barons across the land, not knowing that those had been instigated by pawns planted by either Baron Wilson or Lady Isabel to destabilize the areas that were under the control of the nobles that were likely to be less sympathetic to their agenda. Once they had even rescued the Baron of Bloodhaven, one such member of the Council, from abduction; they had saved the man from an assassin's blade just in time.

Soon, Baron Wilson and Lady Isabel had begun secretly blaming King Malcolm for the nuisance that The Arrow and his men had turned out to be, becoming more and more impatient of the king's slow-but-sure strategy for dealing with this frustrating annoyance. The baron and his lady had begun to see the king as more of a hindrance to their wicked aspirations rather than an ally, just like The Arrow. Together, they had plotted the murder of King Malcolm, which had been successfully carried out by the king's cupbearer, whom they had paid a gorgeous sum in silver and who had disappeared even before the king's cold, lifeless body had been discovered by the queen in the royal chambers. Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, the traitorous tandem had proceeded to target the Arrow and eliminate him, by going after the most important person in his life – his wife.

All of these had brought the Arrow and his bride to this very moment. The darkness in the hearts of his enemies had brought them to the brink of tragic loss and separation, but the light of their love was the only thing that kept them holding on to hope.

Oliver was lost in thought at the end of the dimly-lit hallway. He did not even notice the faint cries of a baby boy from inside the room, or the creaking of the large oak door when his mother stepped out of the room minutes after. Curtis, the other Moor, walked up to him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him that the baroness wanted to speak to him. When he turned around, the first thing he looked at were his mother's eyes.

Moira's eyes were drowning in tears. And if Oliver was not paying full attention to the nuances in the expression of her eyes, he would have missed it or misinterpreted it. His knees would have buckled, and his legs would have given way in shock and grief. But when the first tear fell and rolled down his mother's cheek, he realized that what filled her eyes were tears of joy.

Moira smiled and uttered with a restrained jubilance, "Oliver Queen, Lord of Starling, it is my humble, joyful privilege to let you know that you have a son!" She was about to break down in sobs when Oliver walked briskly towards her, catching his mother before she slumped down to the ground due to physical and emotional fatigue.

"And Felicity?" he asked Moira.

"She's… she's alive, Oliver," Moira replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't know how or why, but she's… she's alive!"

Oliver closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief, thanking the God that he served and made sacrifices in life for that his wife and child had made it through. "May I go inside and see them?"

"Yes, yes! You may enter to see your wife in a while. Give it another half hour," his mother answered, her voice halfway between crying and laughing. "The Moor is still closing up the incision. Felicity did not feel any pain and is still unconscious, thanks to those needles. Lyla and Raisa are attending to your son. I am going to go tell Thea the wonderful news."

After giving her son a warm hug, the baroness took leave and headed straight to her daughter's chambers.

It did not take long before Lyla emerged from her mistress's room, holding Oliver's son in her arms. Lyla transferred the infant into the robust arms of his father, saying, "Behold your son, my lord."

Oliver stared down at his son's little face and whispered, also with restrained jubilance, "Oh, my beautiful boy!" He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his son's tiny, bald head. He cradled the babe in his arms and lulled him to sleep.

After a few minutes alone with the infant in his arms, he brought his son to his friends, beaming like every proud, first-time father. The archers crowded around him and his firstborn son. They all congratulated him and expressed their best wishes for his young family. After thanking them, Oliver solemnly announced, "His name shall be Robert Thomas, heir of the Lord of Starling and of the noble house of the Queens."

"Two names?" Rene asked, curious as to why their leader opted to bless his son as such.

"He deserves twice the honor," Oliver responded, "just as my father and my best friend deserve it. Their legacy and mine will live on through my son."

The men did not notice how long they had been admiring the little child in their mentor's arms until Lyla emerged from the Lady's room the second time and told Lord Oliver that he may now see his wife if he wanted to. Lyla then took the baby from him and followed him into the room.

John tucked Felicity's legs under the woolen blanket of the freshly changed bed as Oliver entered the room. The Moor was pleased that they had been able to finish cleaning everything and changing her by the time Oliver stepped into the room.

"How is she?" Oliver asked his friend. He placed a chaste kiss on his wife's forehead as he stroked her blonde hair that was still moist with sweat.

"Your lovely bride is a fighter, just like you," John replied with a smile. His white teeth sparkled against the background of his dark skin.

"She won't wake for as long as the needles are in place. It's best she stays this way for a while longer, so that she doesn't feel any pain," Yao Fei explained.

Maseo added, "The herbs we placed on her wound… those will help it heal faster and safer. They are not exactly like the medicinal herbs we used back home, but Lyla assured us that here, nobles and peasants alike commonly use them for such purposes. When the wound begins to dry up, use the healing balm that I gave Lyla on it. And make sure she is properly nourished."

"We've already instructed Lyla and Raisa how to clean the wound, apply the herbs, and dress the wound with clean bandages daily," John said further. "But if you want Yao Fei and Maseo to stay longer-"

"Yes, of course, I would," Oliver cut him off with affirmative enthusiasm. "Your presence here is in my wife's best interests. I would rather have you stay while she convalesces. In fact, you are both welcome to remain in the Manor until the banquet I intend to host in celebration of the birth of my firstborn," he said cheerfully as he looked at Yao Fei and Maseo with gratitude shining in his eyes.

"Thank you. Thank you, all of you. Words will never be enough to express how grateful I am for what you have done for my family." This time, he scanned the room and nodded at each person directly responsible for keeping his wife alive and for bringing his son into the world – John, Yao Fei, Maseo, Lyla, and Raisa.

Oliver then turned to John and inquired, "When will Yao Fei wake her up?"

"Soon," John answered. The answer to his question was brief, and Oliver would have asked for more, but he resigned himself to trusting his friend's wisdom for now.

"Her wound?" Oliver asked again, noticing the fresh blood that seeped into the bandages underneath his wife's evening clothes.

"The incision was shorter than a handspan," John answered. Oliver cringed a little at the thought of what his wife had gone through. A handspan was a significant length for a wound that deep, and with the size of John's hand… He did not even want to think about it. He knew it was a miracle that she had survived.

He turned to look at his wife's sleeping form. He sighed in admiration of her courage. She had been the woman of strength behind the hero that he had become, supporting his noble and brave efforts as Lord of Starling and as The Arrow. She had risked her life to prevent a traitor from escaping. She had not given up despite the pain and agony of a premature childbirth.

"I had only seen this done with horses where I come from," John added, drawing his attention again as he considered the risk that they all had taken. "I did my best, but I'm afraid that under the circumstances… the scar will not be pretty."

Oliver's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then there was calmness on his face. "It doesn't matter. She's alive. Thanks to you."

John simply smiled.

Oliver placed his hand on his shoulder. "John, I am setting you free from the life debt you owe me. Because of what you have done for me and my family, you and I are now equals. Claim your rights as a free man in the kingdom of Arrowland, my brother."

Pairs of brown and blue eyes lock onto each other in resolute solemnity. Their friendship and brotherhood were sealed for life as John gripped Oliver's wrist and nodded.

Epilogue:

The latch on the door of the adjoining royal bedchambers clicked open, but Felicity was much too absorbed in thought to notice that Oliver had just entered her room. There she stood in front of a large looking glass, staring at her scar and tracing it with her fingers, even though she could barely see it with just the faint flow of the fireplace nearby.

It had only been a year and a day since their son Robert Thomas was born, about six months since the High Council had taken a vote and unanimously selected the Lord of Starling as the late King Malcolm's successor, and about four months since he was conferred the title and crown of King. Lady Felicity had also been crowned his queen, receiving the title that her mother had enjoyed for only a few years and had passed on to her with so much pride and mirth.

Oliver had set the affairs of the Queen Manor and of Starling in order in two months that followed his coronation, and then he had taken his queen and their infant prince with him to the castle in order to rule the realm from there. It had taken the new monarch and his young family two months to get settled and accustomed to the ways of royalty, yet they still felt that they had only begun to scratch the surface of the intricacies of politics, as well as the social graces expected of them as the noblest ruling family in the land.

There had been a banquet at the castle earlier that evening to celebrate the first natal day of the little prince. Felicity had taken leave early, courteously excusing herself from the presence of the king, his court, and his guests in order to nurse their son in her chambers. She had fed his hungry mouth with both her breasts as she softly hummed his favorite minstrel tune. When the year-old child had finally been filled, he had fallen asleep in her arms on her lap. She had laid him in his basinet and tucked him under his delicate, wool blanket. She hadn't bothered to change back to her banquet clothes and to ask Lyla to watch the child so that she might rejoin the feasting throng in the great hall, for she was much too tired from the day's festivities and had wanted to rest.

Felicity had felt stronger and stronger as the days went by. A month after giving birth, the wound on her belly had healed surprisingly well on the surface, but John had advised the couple that she should refrain from strenuous activities because it took longer for such a wound to heal on the inside. She had tried to abide by the advice as best she could. Oliver had become especially more protective of her since, to the point that they had, on more than a couple of occasions, argued vehemently over what she was permitted and not permitted to do.

Way back on the night of his son's miraculous birth, Oliver had obtained a wet nurse for the infant, worrying that his wife's body might not be strong enough to nurse and care for their son as she should. But as soon as Felicity had been strong enough to get up from bed and walk (which had been only a day and a half after she had regained consciousness), she had demanded that she be allowed to personally nurse her son and attend to his needs. At the onset, Oliver had refused. But upon her insistence, he had patiently listened to her tirade of frustration – a phrase at a time in between her sobs. His mother and Lyla had both warned him that it was futile to argue with an over-emotional, physically drained mother who had just given birth, for such, they had said, was the natural way with women. It had not taken long before he caved in and relented from some of his prohibitions, assuring his wife of his love and understanding as he held her in his tender embrace and told her that he had already instructed Lyla and the wet nurse to bring her their son.

In the days that followed, the wet nurse, who also had knowledge of midwifery, had coached the novice yet eagerly determined mother on how to have her baby latch onto her breasts and suck effortlessly. Oliver's admiration and appreciation for his young wife increased tenfold as he watched her persevere in the simple, mundane task of nursing their son – a task that had been twice as hard to do for a first-time mother that was recuperating from a serious wound on her stomach about a handspan in length. He watched her rise from bed each and every time their son cried for his mother to feed him, no matter how much her wound or her nipples hurt. He watched her wince each time the infant sucking on her breast squirmed in her arms against her bosom, silently allowing a tear or two to fall as an indication of the pain radiating from her belly, instead of outwardly or verbally complaining about it – a feat, which had been commendable for someone like the garrulous daughter of the Lady Donna Smoak. In time, Felicity had gotten used to breastfeeding, and her wound had slowly healed.

Truth be told, she had not yet regained her strength and vigor completely, and she feared that her body might never be able to go back to the way things were, prior to her very near brush with death on the night she was rescued in the Rochev Manor – the same night she had given birth to her son with the help of their foreign friends. She had missed riding her steed and joining her husband on his routine rounds around Starling, and more so when they had moved to the castle permanently and there had been no need for her to accompany him in his daily duties as there were ministers for every form of service in the kingdom. Felicity thus contented herself with their sunrise and sunset walks in the moat gardens, counting on her husband's promise that as soon as their son was weaned, the king would once more grant his queen a more active role in their partnership, which now meant managing the castle and ruling the kingdom.

What Felicity had missed most were their intimate nocturnal activities. It had been more than three months since childbirth, but Oliver had neither invited her to come into his bedchamber nor visited her at night to seek the warmth of her company, and since she had been too timid to inquire of him about the matter, she had suffered in lonely silence. Every night he would come in to see her before he retired to his chambers, but they had not shared anything beyond good-night kisses, gentle caresses, and tender cuddling that she had wished would lead to something more pleasurable.

Two more months had passed. When she could no longer take another day of intimacy deprivation, she had brazenly defied culture and custom, unlatched the adjoining door in nothing but the most seductive evening gown she could find in her wardrobe, and presented herself to her husband, much to his astonishment. Ironically, Oliver had almost spurned her irresistible offer if she had not assured and reassured him that she had completely recovered physically from her wounds and confessed how much she had missed being with him. After a very passionate time of coming together as man and wife for the first time since childbirth, Oliver too had bared his heart and confessed how much he had missed being with her, how he had been anxious about when she would be ready for intimacy again, and how much he feared he might hurt her in the process. They had laughed at their foolishness and promised each other never again to keep such secrets that only kept them from each other unnecessarily. Their moment had been soon interrupted by the cries of their son calling for his mother, so Oliver had helped her put on her evening gown and carried his lovely wife back to the other room where their son waited impatiently for his hunger to be filled.

Felicity had been lost in quiet reminiscences as she stood in front of the looking glass. Oliver crept up from behind her and then enveloped her in his robust yet gentle arms, planting a kiss on the exposed skin on the side of her neck.

"I know what you are thinking," he ventured a guess. He placed his right hand on hers, the fingers of which had been tracing up and down the scar on her lower abdomen. "How many times have I told you that it is not at all hideous, my love?" he asked in reference to her scar.

She looked up at the reflection of his face on the looking glass and smiled affectionately at him. "Too many times, I'm afraid," she replied. "But this time, I was not thinking about how hideous or horrid it is. Thanks to you, those brooding days are gone." She turned her head as he lowered his, and they met each other's lips for a sweet kiss.

"I would have you know that I was actually pondering quite differently about it when you came. I think I have come to accept it as part of me now, part of us – you, me, and our son. Now, we both have scars, yet another reason for us to bond more deeply," she explained further.

"That… is wonderful to hear, my lovely queen," he remarked, squeezing her gently in his arms and nuzzling his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. She couldn't help but smile as the fine hairs of his stubble tickled her skin.

Felicity held on to both his arms wrapped around her, allowing him to sway them both from side to side even if the soothing melody they were dancing to was only in their heads.

"Indeed, my handsome king," she responded. "I have come to realize that the scar I shall bear for the rest of my life is a mark, not just of pain and suffering, but also of life – the life that we have come to share together, the life of our beautiful boy, and the countless lives that we have helped to save when we risked laying down our lives to see justice done. I know now that my scar is a testament of courage and hope."

Oliver nodded, digging his chin mildly into her shoulder three times. He felt as if his heart was about to burst with unspeakable joy and esteem for the woman who had brought light back into his life, the woman who had borne him a son at the threat of losing her own life.

Felicity loosened his hold on her and turned to face him. She brought both her hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks in them. Her eyes gleamed, as did his, and nothing in the heavens above or on the earth beneath would have been able to break their loving gaze apart.

"You are the love of my life. You believe that, do you not?" Oliver asked.

Felicity simply bit her lip and nodded in affirmation. Then, she spoke the words that sealed that night and led to the conception of another royal heir in the Queen bloodline.

"My lord and my king, without the shadow of a doubt in my mind and heart, you… are my one true love. And I shall bear my scar in honor of our love and partnership for as long as I live, for it has become – and will always be – the pride of the Arrow's bride."

THE END

A/N: There you have it! I hope you enjoyed the story of The Arrow's Bride. I wanted it to be a medieval romantic drama for Olicity, but I also wanted for it to have an interesting action plot and back story. Plus I tried to incorporate as much of the characters as the story line will allow me to. I hope that the flashbacks within flashbacks weren't too confusing or complicated to follow. I really didn't intend for the story to go plainly chronological, so I thought of messing with the timeline somehow to give the storytelling a novel twist.

To those of you who may have wondered how I came up with the idea of putting Felicity through CS in the medieval times when such kind of medical procedure had been unheard of in the western world yet, here is the explanation. The movie "Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves" starring Kevin Costner that was released sometime in the 1990s, and it has been one of my favorite versions of the legendary tale (the other being the recent one that starred Russell Crowe). In that movie, the wife of Little John (if I recall correctly) had difficulty in childbirth, and Robin of Loxly's Moorish companion (played by Morgan Freeman) had offered to save the woman's life by doing something that "he had only ever seen done on horses." I distinctly remember the scene, and it came to me while plotting the story line for this fic. It's a good thing Arrow has some African American characters that I was able to maximize for this to work.

As for how Felicity had been made to survive the pain of a CS without proper anesthesia available back in those days, I got the idea of using acupuncture to keep her unconscious and numb to any kind of pain from a Korean drama series that I followed some years ago titled "Jewel in the Palace." That drama series featured the legendary story of an intelligent and humble Korean young woman who rose from the ranks of the royal kitchen to become a female doctor back in the days of the ruling emperors and dynasties of Korea. In the finale episode of the series, the female doctor tried to save a woman in a cave that was having difficulty giving birth by performing what can easily be inferred as a major surgery such as CS with only acupuncture to help with the pain - something that she had already started to consider and study as a medical possibility ever since she had helped save the life of the empress in childbirth. To save that woman's life, she had bravely gone ahead with the procedure. It's a good thing Arrow has had some East Asian characters that I could work with.

Thanks again for clicking on this story!