Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate it!
To answer questions about the resurrection: I thought of it as a three-way circuit - the mind, body, and soul. Without one, the circuit becomes wrong and the person becomes feral, resorting to their base instincts. The Lazarus Pit works on the body and mind, while Soultaker deals with one's soul.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show, Arrow or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would - Arrow wouldn't have become the joke that it did.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Awareness crept through him gradually, like a blanket slowly being raised away from one's weary body. The remnants of perpetual darkness faded, leaving only a renowned sense of loss.
Oliver's eyes spasmed open and he breathed slowly, feeling his throat tingle, almost shuddering from the force of air.
He was lying flat on his back, eyes hazy as he stared up into the wood-filled ceiling.
Memories bombarded his mind, the battle against Ra's Al Ghul, Malcolm's deed, Nyssa's acceptance of his apology, and the terrible cold.
He licked his dry lips and swallowed, ignoring the pain of the act, and called out. "Hello?" He suddenly gasped in agony, feeling his throat close as waves of searing, scorching pain tore through his throat with abandon.
His eyes snapped shut tightly, jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding against teeth in agony. The pain was intense and overwhelming, although nothing compared to the horror of the Red Death.
A cool hand suddenly held his shoulder gently, "Just slowly, so ever slowly breathe, Oliver. You're safe."
He calmed himself, recognizing the voice but he couldn't necessarily place it; everything in his head was too convoluted, too chaotic.
Once his eyes opened again, they were riveted towards Nyssa Al Ghul's hypnotic ones. He, to his hazy mind, noticed how different she suddenly seemed.
She didn't seem weighed down, bearing the weight of something.
"I don't know if you'll believe me, but it truly relieves me to see your coherent-lighted eyes again." She said softly, smiling ever so slightly. "Speak in a whisper if you wish to speak; it will ease your pain."
Oliver blinked drowsily, deciding not to fight her. He was so tired. "Okay," he whispered, relief filling him when no pain whatsoever assaulted his throat. "How… am I alive? I know that your father… killed me."
"He did." His eyes slowly connected with Maseo's dark, relief-filled orbs. His old friend's boots resounded in the room and he saw Nyssa throw a quick glance towards Oliver's chest for some reason.
"Maseo, what have you done?" Oliver croaked, wondering if he was alive because of the Mirakuru. Just like Slade had survived an arrow through his eye into his brain! How did they get their hands on it? It was all destroyed! He began to panic, wondering when he would turn into an unrecognizable monster just like Slade, his brother-in-arms, the man whom Oliver would have done anything for except tell him the truth about dear, kind, gentle Shado.
Nyssa's calm hand on his shoulder kept him from moving further. He tried to struggle but it was useless - he was weak. "Oliver, what stories have you heard of my father? About his power?"
Oliver frowned and his chest ached, the cold from the mountain surrounding him with tenacity. He shivered and huddled into himself. His throat protested but he answered in a cracked whisper. "They say that Ra's Al Ghul is immortal. 'There has always been a Ra's Al Ghul and there always will be a Ra's Al Ghul. As eternal as the stars in the sky, Ra's Al Ghul bears witness to all. His eyes and ears expand across the world and there is no place where he can't find you.' He's the most dangerous man on Earth and…" he broke off, no words passing his lips for his throat forbid it.
"Yes, those stories are true, but not for the reasons you think," Nyssa said gently, sympathy flashing in her hypnotic eyes. "There are waters in Nanda Parbat, my father's fortress and my home, that has permitted my father to live well beyond his time - he is over two-hundred-years old, closer to three centuries old. Ra's Al Ghul always exists because he is, in a way, reincarnated into his new vessel upon the previous Demon Head's demise." Oliver blinked and processed the information. After everything that he had witnessed in the past years, he wasn't as surprised as he ought to have been. He saw Nyssa dangle a beautiful vial with swirling lines of gold in front of him. "This vial was a gift from my father years ago. It was filled with Lazarus Pit water. The reason you are alive, Oliver, is that of this. Sarab and I had used all of it to heal you as best we could. Your throat though," she grimaced and clenched the vial, "will forever be maimed. A whisper is all you will be able to speak, and even then it will fatigue you." She closed her eyes in shame. "I'm sorry."
Oliver shook his head, glancing at Maseo for a moment. His friend's eyes were glazed and he had the feeling that Akio dominated his old friend's thoughts. With a burst of strength, he gripped Nyssa's hand and her eyes snapped open in shock. His intense eyes snared her own, "Thank you for saving my life, Nyssa."
She swallowed and her lips curled into a small smile, "You're welcome, Oliver."
"There was also another reason for your resurrection, my friend." Maseo suddenly said, "My eyes have been opened, and I finally see. It was a grievous error to pledge my life, my soul to Ra's Al Ghul. I cannot escape his power, though, my friend. He is too powerful and his reach is further than you know. The only way that I could possibly become free of his grasp is for someone to…" he inhaled deeply and his eyes darted to Nyssa's form. "Someone must kill him."
Oliver's eyes involuntary snapped shut and the cold pierced his body with the accuracy of a master, the ancient eyes of Ra's Al Ghul commanding it to do so. The memories of his death, of the sword brutally tearing through his chest flashed before his closed eyes.
Nyssa's voice pierced through the haze, "Oliver, I'm sorry that we brought you back only to force our agenda to your much-needed attention, but you are the only person on Earth who can kill my father." His eyes opened and he was surprised to see the shame coloring Nyssa's eyes. "Sarab and I are both most selfish," she said quietly.
"Regardless of the reasons," he said firmly in a whisper. "I am alive and I owe you both my life. Thank you. I must ask, though: why do you want your father dead, Nyssa?"
She bit her lip briefly and straightened, the look of a warrior flashing over her beautiful features. "My father is not a father as is defined by most of the world. He is, for lack of terminology, my master. There is no love that exists in my heart for him and I'm certain the same could be said for his feelings about me." Oliver nodded in understanding and saw Nyssa try to suppress the hurt from crossing her eyes. "I wish, above anything, to be free of my father's colossal shadow and sight, his all-knowing stare."
Oliver gingerly rubbed his throat in reflection over her words, dimly noticing that his beard had become very thick. His hair was also longer, as well. He sat up straighter, "How much time has passed since," he grimaced, "the fight?"
"Just under two months, my friend," Maseo said softly, the words reaching Oliver's ears with the precision of a surgeon. "Nyssa and I have been watching over you ever since, monitoring your sweat-drenched body and remaining ever-vigilant. We have encountered several Shadows that were sent by the Demon's Head and killed them accordingly. Nyssa herself killed most of them without hesitation to save you, Oliver."
The Queen scion stared at Nyssa who looked almost uncomfortable if he wasn't mistaken. He had known that Maseo, Sarab or not, would be loyal to him and aid him, but he had had no inkling that Nyssa would be so crucial, so helpful. He felt… touched by the care she had obviously given him the past two months, by the fact that she had killed her fellow League Warriors for him.
Their eyes connected and Oliver conveyed his thanks and apologies for ever doubting her, the absolute trust that he now placed in her. She blinked and looked away. Oliver quickly sought to defuse the potential tense atmosphere. "What else can you tell me about your father? There has to be someone else who could defeat him." He spoke in a whisper, the fear beginning to poison his mind. He couldn't battle Ra's Al Ghul again. He couldn't!
Nyssa nodded in relief, a smile flashing across her face before it was gone. "There is a prophecy, more than one actually, that my father has been obsessed with ever since I can remember."
"Why?"
"They pertain to the League and mention his heir."
Oliver frowned and slowly sat up, ignoring the pain splintering through his body. "You're his heir, his own daughter."
Nyssa smiled bitterly and Oliver was struck by the intense sadness that shined in her beautiful eyes, "My father desires a worthy male heir above any woman, regardless if she is of his own blood. He has never considered me his true heir despite his choice to allow me to claim myself as the Heir to the Demon."
Oliver cautiously grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it in hopes of comforting her. "I'm sorry that your father cannot see what's right in front of him." Her eyes locked into his own, "You are a deadly warrior whose skills are undoubtedly barely-rivaled. Ever since I met you when Sara had run away from the League, I have always been in awe of your deadly grace, your unmistakable aura of control and precision. You are a worthy heir to your father's throne, but he is too blind to see it."
Nyssa's face was blank but her eyes were wide. Quickly, her features spread into a small, yet genuine smile. "Thank you, Oliver, but be that as it may, my father is correct. The League of Assassins must be led by a strong, powerful, prodigiously-skilled, and deadly man. I would be lying to myself and any who would listen if I told you that I was any more than one of those. When you first awakened, you effortlessly overpowered me despite my greatest efforts to escape. If anything, that proved to me that you are worthy, Oliver; besting one who has the blood of Ra's Al Ghul in their veins."
Oliver's eyes widened, "Wait, what? What are…" he trailed off as images blurred before his eyes. The blank mind, the overwhelming rage, the hand wrapped around a throat, the sound of bones breaking, and the pain.
"You remember," Maseo said softly, and Oliver saw, in his mind, his friend being flung into a table.
Oliver swallowed, "Yeah, I do." His eyes darted to Nyssa's neck and her wrist, "I don't know what I was doing. It was all a blank canvas, warped by rage. I'm sorry that I almost killed you."
Nyssa raised an eyebrow, "I've tried to kill you, you've tried to kill me, so let's call it even."
He smiled slightly in relief and remembered what they had been talking about, "You mentioned a prophecy?"
"The first prophecy was uttered by my father's predecessor upon his death. He cemented Fate itself when he said 'He who survives the sword of Ra's Al Ghul will become Ra's Al Ghul.' Only hours later, upon my father's rebirth as Ra's Al Ghul, the Shaman's eyes became black as night and her voice was as ancient as Nanda Parbat itself. My father always told me the words when I was a child. They stated:
His aim is true and it will never quell.
His incessant blows clashed like ringing bells.
He faced the end and the truth as he fell.
Rising from the cold hands of death, he came.
From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim.
'A worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim.
An inheritance beyond a treasure,
He becomes the most worthy successor,
And hailed above he who is most clever.
The Demon's daughter cemented the path.
Her home shall face the true immortal's wrath.
The Ring will be key to thwart the bloodbath."
Oliver closed his eyes, "And the other one?" He asked in a whisper. Rising from the cold hands of death, he came. From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim. 'A worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim. Those words echoed in his mind, the brilliant, blinding truth staring him in the eye, and he was unable to look away.
He was destined as Ra's Al Ghul's heir, the Demon's Head himself, the most dangerous man to walk the Earth.
"Several years before I was born, my father had tasked the Shaman in Nanda Parbat to meditate, seeking out the ancient energies of the world, requesting an omen for the future of the League of Assassins. For days and nights, the Shaman meditated unwaveringly without food or drink until on the eighth night, she was seized by a dark power similar to when my father was reborn and spoke these words:
The fortress will smoke underneath the moon.
The rival will hear the tramp of his doom.
He'll flee from his place to die in disgrace
Beneath the night sky, beneath the impugn.
The wind will come from the sky frigid cold,
Like an ocean, it will be uncontrolled.
The fallen will groan, the fortress will moan,
And League blood will be shed upon the mold.
Ra's Al Ghul will descend unto his hall,
Under Nanda Parbat, mighty and tall!
His foe has faced the end, his once-best friend,
And for eternity his foes shall fall!
Time will pass on from the West to the East;
Movements from loyal Shadows will have ceased.
But hitting its long mark across the dark,
The critical tidings will be released.
It will pass the ears of loyal Shadows bare,
And sweep through the Head of the Demon's lair:
Their death to conquer will lay great honor,
And flying arrows will blaze through the air.
The arrows will leave the bow and take flight
Over the eternal seas of the night.
They will carry great sail upon the gale,
And the Fates will bless with radiant light.
The Demon's Ring once again will be freed.
The worthy heir, the summons must show heed.
His ire will be more destructive than fire,
While legions of Shadows follow his lead.
The swords will be most keen and the spears long,
The arrows fly swift while the men are strong.
Their hearts will be fierce for their blades to pierce;
The Shadows no more shall suffer a wrong."
Oliver inhaled sharply, twitching as his throat protested, but he ignored it. "Well, those are certainly beautiful and foreboding." He said quietly, "It said 'the Demon's daughter has cemented the path.' What do you think that means, Nyssa? You apparently have chosen, or will choose, to do something that…" he trailed off, waiting for her answer.
Nyssa frowned and crossed her arms, "I would say that I cemented the path when I chose to aid Sarab in his quest to resurrect you. That's my best guess."
"Again, I thank you for your decision, Nyssa." Oliver's whispered words were filled with gratefulness.
She smiled and he was taken aback by the rarity of the sight, of the radiant, deadly beauty she exhibited.
"Why would Ra's Al Ghul seek to destroy his own fortress?" Maseo asked suddenly, black eyebrows pinched together. "Why would Nyssa's choice to join my betrayal cause Ra's Al Ghul-"
Nyssa interrupted, "It wouldn't," she said simply. "My father would never try to destroy Nanda Parbat, his fortress."
"Well, then who is another immortal?" Oliver asked quietly.
Maseo glanced at Nyssa, "Why would Damien Darhk care if you agreed with my plan and helped?"
"He wouldn't, either," Nyssa frowned and looked at Oliver, "Damien Darhk was trained alongside my father in the League centuries ago by my father's predecessor. They were his horsemen, molded into unstoppable warriors the likes of which the world had never before seen. When my father was deemed 'heir', Darhk was outraged and fled for fear of his life, stealing waters from the Lazarus Pit and loyal followers. For the past centuries, he has vexed my father ever since. I suspect the second prophecy, at least the beginning, is referring to him. It pretty much says as much." Nyssa almost seemed excited, "'Ra's Al Ghul will descend unto his hall. His foe is dead, his once-greatest friend.' My father, during the rare times when he has spoken about Darhk, revealed that they were as brothers, loyal to one another absolutely before the former Ra's Al Ghul declared my father his heir."
"But he would fit perfectly for your decision, your chosen path, Nyssa." Maseo urged, "Damien Darhk wants Nanda Parbat destroyed, his loyal hive of followers have said as much when they have been captured and interrogated by your father. Oliver is destined, since it was mentioned in both prophecies, to be your father's heir," Oliver shot Nyssa a look of apology and was relieved when she nodded, "and Damien Darhk could see it as history repeating itself. One who believes themselves to be worthy of being the Heir to the Demon, but they weren't the ones chosen. That's why Nanda Parbat will face his wrath."
Oliver furrowed his brows, "I'm sorry, Maseo, but that doesn't make sense, at least to me. The prophecy said 'true immortal'." He pointed out. "Ra's Al Ghul and Damien Darhk aren't true immortals because they rely on the Lazarus Pit. Plus, it says that Darhk will be killed while Ra's Al Ghul will still yet walk the Earth."
"I've never heard of anyone who is eternal without a Lazarus Pit," Nyssa said after a pause. "Also, Ra's Al Ghul will always walk the Earth, Oliver. A different person every couple of centuries, but the Demon's Head will always exist. 'There has always been a Ra's Al Ghul and there always will be a Ra's Al Ghul. As eternal as the stars in the sky, Ra's Al Ghul bears witness to all. His eyes and ears expand across the world and there is no place where he can't find you.'" She quoted Oliver's own words.
Maseo nodded his head, "An unseen enemy now has Nanda Parbat in their sights, but we must focus on Ra's Al Ghul. He is our priority. It is imperative that Oliver end his reign and, if he desires, claim his rightful place as the Demon's Head."
Closing his eyes, Oliver almost wished he were still dead. Almost. His entire existence was utterly chaotic, convoluted beyond measure. Apparently, he was destined to be Ra's Al Ghul's heir and reside in the middle of the coming storm at the hands of a true immortal.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Her angry footsteps pounded through Verdant, the intense echo almost deafening. She had received a very vague text from Diggle only half an hour previously and was forced to clear her schedule in the afternoon. She was still vexed ever since Oliver had left without her input, leaving Roy to reveal the truth days after Oliver had departed and when she had glanced at the text message, she froze.
'Get to the lair ASAP. About Oliver.'
Despite her bitterness towards Oliver, she still cared for him and was relieved that she would finally receive answers, and probably from Oliver himself.
Over two months he had been away, battling Ra's Al Ghul, her sister's teacher, and Laurel was thankful that it was finally over.
Oliver had avenged Sara.
She was certain that her former boyfriend had succeeded and was waiting at the lair for her to arrive. Diggle would never send such a vague text otherwise. If Oliver had perished, God forbid, Diggle would have shown up at her office in person to reveal the terrible news.
She walked around the bar and ignored the memories of watching her sister mixing drinks when Oliver had offered Sara the job. The grief still lurked in every crevice of her heart; she honestly doubted that wound would ever heal, seeing her sister's body broken by three arrows.
Laurel then glanced around, making certain that no one was watching, specifically Thea, and entered the back room. The door was shut and she quickly entered the code, the anticipation of seeing Oliver again almost overwhelming. Despite their chaotic and convoluted history, she wanted Oliver in her life.
Laurel tried not to race down the stairs but the echo of her heels pinging off the metal like gunshots told her that she had failed. The lights were on and she immediately saw Roy leaning against one of the tables, arrowheads gleaming in the light from where they lied on the table.
"Hey, where's Oliver?" She then noticed Felicity and Diggle. "John, where is he? I thought-" Laurel's lips parted as the shadows seemed to part behind Felicity and Diggle.
Malcolm Merlyn's usual arrogant face was blank, eyes stormy with emotions she couldn't name. His hands were clasped behind his back loosely, revealing his pristine suit beneath his overcoat.
"Ms. Lance, thank you for coming. I thought it would be appropriate for you to be here." Merlyn's voice was level and Laurel swallowed.
"John, what's this all about? You said it would be about Oliver." She glanced around, hoping to see her former boyfriend appear out of the darkness of the lair just like Merlyn had done, but he never did.
Diggle's arms were crossed tightly across his chest, "Merlyn says he has something to tell us." His voice was tinged with grief and Laurel felt a terrible chill run down her spine.
"The League of Assassins conducts matters such as duels on grounds sacred to its beliefs, ancient rituals that have existed for millennia." Laurel's throat closed off, the unholy realization staring at her in the guise of Malcolm Merlyn. "This past week, I journeyed there and found… this." A blade appeared in his hands, barely visible under the dim light, but when Merlyn stepped closer and gently laid the weapon on the table, the sight was all too visible.
The sword was blood-stained and dark and red and terrible. The air abruptly left Laurel's lungs, starving her as she stared at the blade, at the irrefutable truth.
Merlyn continued, his own dark eyes glued to the blood-stained sword. "It is Ra's Al Ghul's custom to leave behind the instrument of death as a way to honor the fallen, guiding them through the purge of unholy fire and then into the afterlife."
Laurel looked up, tears spilling down her cheeks as she heard Diggle's quivering breath. "Merlyn, did you see… Oliv- …Oliver's body? You have evidence, proof of Ra's Al Ghul's victory?" Laurel could see the truth shining in her friend's eyes, glimmering underneath the futile hope that he was wrong.
"Oliver was flung off of a mountain," Merlyn said bluntly and Laurel's breath hitched, chest almost crushed under the image of Oliver Queen, the seemingly invincible hero of Starling City, the Arrow, dying in such a way. "His body seems to have fallen into a ravine; his remains are… unrecoverable, I'm afraid."
Felicity perked up, hysteria bubbling in her eyes. "Then how do we know that that's Oliver's blood on the sword? It could be Ra's Al Ghul's! Maybe Oliver is holed up somewhere waiting for the League of Assassins' ire to fade; I mean, I would be pissed and vengeance-seeking if my leader was killed."
Laurel twisted her neck, trying to refrain letting out a choked sob. Felicity's naivety about Oliver was making the entire situation worse.
Malcolm Merlyn frowned, skin stretching across his cheeks, making him look inhuman for a moment. She dimly noticed Felicity flinch, paling greatly and tenderly raise a hand to touch her throat. "Because after I leave, Ms. Smoak, you will run a test on the sword. And after you confirm that it is, in fact, Oliver's blood, you will waste days of your life, exhausting yourself and your teammates with illogical conspiracy theories as to how I planted it or how the obvious facts are all lies. Then, you will be left the inescapable, irrefutable truth: Oliver Queen is dead, life snuffed out by the Demon's Head in an ancient ceremony."
Laurel closed her eyes, refusing to allow Malcolm Merlyn to see her tears. She heard Felicity's ragged breathing and knew another tirade was at hand. "This is your fault." Laurel's blurry eyes snapped open, staring at Felicity with narrowed, wet eyes. She dimly noticed both Diggle and Roy's eyes widen in dread. What was going on? What did Felicity mean? "Oliver went there because of you, because of what you did to Thea, his beloved sister. You made her a target of the League's retribution, thus forcing Oliver to challenge Ra's Al Ghul!"
Merlyn's eyes calmly darted to Laurel's own at the mention of Thea, and she swallowed as the realization that something was being kept from her assaulted her mind. "What are you talking about?" She demanded, glaring at Tommy's father.
Felicity suddenly clammed up and her features paled drastically, blood draining from her face. She began to stutter, "What? No, no, no. Um… nothing. There's nothing about Sara that we haven't told you. What are you talking about, Laurel?"
Laurel whirled on Diggle, "John, what's going on?" She hissed dangerously, the name of her murdered sister igniting a blazing fire in her heart. She saw Roy back away and Merlyn perch himself on the table, waiting for something.
Diggle gazed at her with such sorrow and he swallowed, "Right before Oliver left, we discovered who killed Sara, but let me finish!" He snapped when Laurel opened her mouth in outrage. Moments passed and Diggle choked on a breath, "Oliver unearthed the truth and…" he suddenly seemed lost for words and slumped backward, the fight leaving him.
"Perhaps I should continue, Mr. Diggle." Merlyn smoothly cut in before Laurel could. "There is a rare plant called 'Votura' which grows in South America, thriving in Corto Maltese, which, if you remember, Ms. Lance, is where Thea and I lived for several months before returning to Starling City. This plant makes whoever consumes it extremely susceptible to any suggestion, no matter how vile or cruel, while retaining no memory of their actions under the plant's effects."
Silence.
Laurel somehow noticed that she had fallen to her knees, body quivering as air refused to enter her lungs. The pieces all condensed together fluidly, forming a perfect, nightmarish picture.
Hatred for Malcolm Merlyn flooded her body with a strength she never knew was possible. She could see her body quivering on the shiny floor, reflected back at her perfectly. She witnessed, through the reflection, her face contorting, a mass of twisted fury, her eyes narrowed to slits, mouth open, sucking air between her teeth, which had taken on the appearance of animals' fangs. Laurel blitzed forward, only seeing red, but Diggle suddenly wrapped his arms around her stomach.
"Let me go!" She shrieked, bucking like an enraged donkey. "That motherfucker killed my sister!" Diggle grunted as she flung her elbow into his stomach, but he kept ahold of her.
"You're right, Ms. Lance," Merlyn suddenly said, quieting Laurel's feral snarls. "I did orchestrate the death of your sister so that the League would no longer target me." He stood up from the table, "Your sister was a worthy warrior, and, believe it or not, it… pained me to force Thea to kill her."
"Liar!" Laurel hissed, eyes flashing with the promise of death. She read between Merlyn's poisonous words; she was a lawyer. "It pained you to manipulate Thea! You felt nothing as my sister died!"
Merlyn raised a brow and his hands clasped behind his back, "Sara Lance knew the life she would live when she opted to pledge herself to the League again. Her death was inevitable; Ra's Al Ghul was plotting her death and sooner or later, it would have happened. I gave you the blessing of having a body to impart your final goodbyes to, Ms. Lance. It is not my fault that you neglected to share that gift with your father." With that, Merlyn soundlessly exited the lair, leaving behind four heartbroken souls.
Felicity almost ran out the back entrance, the sound of the door slamming shut a slap back to reality. Laurel wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks and hitting the shiny floor with the force of a dropped bomb. The fight had left her, fleeing as grief weighed down her soul. The guilt ate at her, gnawing at her heart incessantly, tormenting her about Merlyn's words. That monster was right. Laurel had already buried Sara and by now, her sister's body wasn't recognizable, just a pile of bones and decomposed flesh. Her father would never get to have that proper closure of saying goodbye like Merlyn had declared. The man who had murdered her little sister was right.
Soon, she knew that her rage would return and then, she would kill Malcolm Merlyn, the bastard.
"I'm sorry, Laurel, so terribly sorry," Diggle whispered and she sniffed, and shoved his arms off her.
She whirled towards him, eyes blazing, "Were you ever going to tell me? Was Oliver? Sara was my sister!"
Diggle closed his eyes and Laurel noticed that utter weariness sunken into his eyes, but she didn't care. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, "After what happened when you first discovered Sara's death, Oliver and I agreed that we should wait until everything with the League was dealt with. Laurel, you were ready to kill, which is understandable, but you had almost killed the wrong man. Oliver was fearful for your life and, frankly, so was I. Malcolm Merlyn is one of the most dangerous men I've ever met, and if you attacked him in a grief-induced rage, he would kill you. Also, Oliver was hesitant because he had no idea what you would do about Thea's hand in Sara's death."
She swallowed and her anger swelled, "Does he think that I would be so consumed by vengeance that I would blame Thea?" More tears spilled down her cheeks at the thought.
Roy answered, face splintered by the news of Oliver's demise. "I don't think he did, but with everything that happened to him since he had arrived on Lian Yu, I think paranoia was second-nature to him, as easy to slip into as a pair of clothes. He trusted you, Laurel, but he was always waiting for those he trusted to stab him in the back; it happened to him a lot."
She didn't fail to notice Roy's use of the past tense when speaking of Oliver and her face crumpled, eyes brimming with more tears. Diggle stepped closer and Laurel accepted, hugging him with all her strength, hoping that he would shield her away from the pain, the grief, but knew that he wouldn't be able to.
XxXxXxXxXxX
She had tried and tried and tried. With her every thought and every breath, she had tried, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough! For the past two months, she had been grasping at the thin wisps of hope in her heart with utter, hysterical abandon.
Oliver couldn't be gone!
The man she loved would never leave her, Ra's Al Ghul or not! He just couldn't be dead! He had had to become the 'hero' she had fallen in love with and run off, despite her pleas not to do so, to battle the most dangerous man in the world.
Now, because of Oliver's stubbornness, he was gone, and her heart had flailed into unhealable, broken fragments.
Oh, how she loved him so! The man who retrofitted her ideals, her very beliefs about society. He was the hero whom all heroes strove to be, a hero beyond the tales of legend, of myth.
He had evolved past being the monster, the Hood, and become the Arrow, the savior of Starling City. She had witnessed the change firsthand and couldn't be more proud of herself for being integral in causing the change from monster to hero.
She damned the love of her life's protectiveness of his younger sister. It if weren't for Thea Queen's stupidity in trusting Malcolm Merlyn, she never would have killed Sara Lance, thus bringing Nyssa Al Ghul and her father into Oliver's life.
When Felicity had heard of Sara's death, to her shame, the first emotion that had flooded her heart was relief. Oliver and Sara had shared a connection that, if Felicity was being honest with herself, she and Oliver would never have. She was always jealous of the female warrior and the easy relationship that Oliver had had with her. Felicity had once desperately sought to become more like Sara but it was an utter failure except for the fact that Oliver had looked upon her in a new light when she had been scarred from the bullet wound that had been meant for Sara.
When she had finally seen Sara Lance's body, the guilt had almost crushed her. She had desperately wanted to confess to John, but she knew that her friend would have looked at her in complete anger and disgust. Instead, Felicity had supported Oliver through his grief, encouraging him to avenge Sara's death.
Upon the news that Thea had murdered Sara under Malcolm Merlyn's control, Felicity had known that Oliver was going to lie to Ra's Al Ghul instead of revealing the truth to the monster. Without a doubt, she had known that the love of her life was going to die because of Thea.
Felicity bitterly cursed Thea Queen, the selfish twat. That girl had gotten her brother, the greatest man the hacker had ever met, killed and Thea didn't even know of her actions.
She choked on the air trying to enter her quivering lungs and shuddered miserably. Tears blurred her vision and grief drowned her mind with the intensity of an earthquake.
After Malcolm Merlyn had left the lair, choosing to leave the… sword behind, Felicity had immediately, in a grief-filled daze, stumbled to her apartment, needing to escape from the horror. The expression on Laurel's face had haunted her; the lawyer had always seemed so casual and calm, but the eyes that had stared at Malcolm Merlyn during his explanation were not casual or calm. They had seemed to burst out of their sockets, widening in disbelief, on the edge of hysteria. Then, the fury had swept across her face like a tide, leaving only destruction in its wake.
Ever since Oliver had left, her life had become a horrible nightmare.
Then, after hours of weeping and loneliness, Felicity had noticed the lateness of the night and knew that no sleep would ease the bitter pain of her grief.
Instead of staring at walls with blotched eyes, she had left her apartment, uncaring if she were mugged, raped, or even killed. She had known that there was no point to life without Oliver in it.
Starling City was blanketed by the night, no lights piercing through the darkness; only the wash of the lively moon outlined several of the skyscrapers of the city, including Palmer Technologies.
Which was where she had been standing in front of for the past several minutes.
It hadn't been her intention, but now that she had actually arrived, Felicity didn't want to leave. She needed the pain to leave her, to give her at least a few hours of peace.
Felicity knew that she wasn't thinking clearly and that she would regret her actions the next day, but she didn't care; her grief was too strong.
Crossing her arms across her stomach as unobtrusively as possible, she walked up the steps and robotically swiped her card through the scanner and was rewarded with the door unlocking. Once inside, Felicity turned left in the foyer of the building, nodding mechanically to the guards at the front desk. She came to the elevators and numbly pressed the button and security code for Ray's personal workshop area - he had recently given the code to her but she had deluded herself, thinking that she would never need it or use it.
How wrong she had been.
She stepped off the elevator and turned right, barely glancing at the exquisite paintings that must have cost millions of dollars proudly displayed across the wall. She was on one focused pursuit; and she intended to be successful, damning whatever consequences appeared in the future.
She heard the tell-tale sound of machinery and found herself in a large room filled with tools she had never seen before. And at the center of it all was Ray Palmer, her boss.
He turned towards her in surprise, placing a tool on the clustered table, "Felicity? What are you doing here?" His eyes widened in dread, "Don't get me wrong. It's great to see you, but I just wasn't expecting you, that's all." After a moment, his eyes roamed her face and alarm spread through his features, "Are you all right? What is it? What's wrong?" He stepped closer and she opened her mouth, but no words would pass her lips.
"Felicity," Ray began, but she almost harshly placed her right hand over his mouth, a quick touch, a desperate request for his silence. She tilted her face upward to his, eyes brimming with sorrowful tears.
Several seconds passed and their eyes stayed locked. Felicity slowly reached up with both hands this time, cupping Ray's clean-shaven face. In response, his arms wrapped around her. Without giving herself a moment to reconsider her actions, she brought his lips down to hers, parting her own for his. She knew that Ray could feel the hot moisture of her tears against his face, and was relieved when he didn't protest.
Ray kissed her gently as she trembled, moving his hands down her back, fondling her, caressing her as their kiss soon became filled with an urgency that surprised her. Ray pulled her into him tightly, and in response, Felicity's hands rubbed the slender muscles of his back, of his ass, and Ray moved a hand to her breast, squeezing tenderly.
Abruptly, she pulled her mouth away from his. "Oh, Ray, I beg you," she said, her voice mournful. "Take me, please. Love me!"
Ray picked her up, fusing his mouth to hers and stumbled into the room adjacent to his workshop. He laid her down and passion clouded the air. It was coarse and not necessarily comfortable, but Felicity didn't really notice; it was exactly what she needed.
They made love quickly and without speaking, disrobed only partially.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Ever since his 'awakening' from death, he had been unable to sleep. For eleven days now, he had stared into the flames of the darkness-piercing fire when he was supposed to be sleeping. The movements of the sporadic, crackling flames soothed him, brought him a comfort that had before seemed unattainable.
Pain was a constant affliction, always weakening his mind and body no matter the task. He was still too weak. His body was scarred beyond compare, chest reminiscent of a butcher's chopping block. His forearm wound had left a large, gruesome scar, reminding him that Ra's Al Ghul could have sliced off his hand and wrist if he had wanted to. Small scars decorated his torso, back, and neck, revealing where Nyssa and Maseo had delicately utilized the Lazarus Pit water.
New sensations were always happening. Maseo had explained that it was because of his new nerves via the Lazarus Pit water. They were like a baby's, in a way. They had to become accustomed to the signals and pathways, again.
Perhaps the greatest of results from the Demon's Head deadly precision was his throat, his voice. It was exhausting to speak, even in a painless whisper. Anything uttered above that of a whisper was excruciatingly painful, torrents of claws piercing through his throat relentlessly.
Ra's Al Ghul had robbed him of his voice and it was something that Oliver had never realized that he had taken for granted.
He hoped to deal a similar blow to the Demon's Head.
Ever since Nyssa's revelation of the two prophecies and Maseo's urging to triumph over his master, he had come to accept his preordained fate.
He should be dead, meeting his father, Yao Fei, Shado, Akio, Tommy, his mother, and Sara in the afterlife, finally achieving his long sought-after peace.
But instead, destiny had chosen to gift him a second chance, allowing him to see his sister again and rectify his absolute, grievous mistake in allowing Malcolm to live.
The flames shifted and Oliver stared with tired eyes, unable to sleep. The cold seeped into his body even though nothing but warmth was surrounding him, causing him to hunch inward in search of the heat that would never appear. He had had no warmth since his 'awakening'. Only the cold. He was haunted by the continuous flashes of feeling his body fall off the mountain.
The fall…
He flinched and his breathing elevated, nausea abruptly plaguing him. How was he supposed to fight Ra's Al Ghul again? Sweat began to collect at his temples. How could he… become Ra's Al Ghul? Maybe Nyssa was wrong! And Maseo! The prophecy didn't mean him. It meant someone else, one who could actually go through the trials!
A soft hand gently touched his shoulder and Oliver's eyes snapped open, breathing harshly echoing through the flame-lighted area. He swallowed and felt the fingers lightly graze the back of his neck, soothing the inanimate fear and the cold.
"Thank you," he whispered, eyes falling shut, head still hung.
Nyssa hummed and he felt her body slide next to his own, fingers still connected to his neck. "My mother used to do this. One of the only memories I have of her is when she would do this after I had a nightmare. I wasn't even four years old. It had always helped and chased away the demons in the dark."
Oliver sighed in relief, "Well, it definitely works."
"I'm glad," her voice was soft, spaced out between words. "What you're going through… I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you." Her gentle fingers applied more pressure, soothing the pressure-ridden muscles coiled beneath his heated skin. "I'm sorry about what happened, about what my father did to you."
"You have nothing to apologize for. You've done more than enough, more than you should have."
"It doesn't change the facts, though."
He glanced at her, tilting his head upward, taking in her somber eyes. "You're right, but it's the conclusions from those facts that matter." His voice was quiet and he hung his head again. "I don't blame you or Maseo for what happened. In fact, your gift to resurrect me, lined up with our tense history, seems unthinkable in hindsight. But you saved my life, anyway, despite it all."
Nyssa finally removed her fingers and Oliver found his body missing the soothing feeling that she had given him. He looked up as she clasped her hands together, fingers twitching in response to something. Fear? Confusion? Embarrassment? Anger? He didn't know.
She finally spoke, "Why did you lie? Sarab and I both know that you did." Her eyes locked on his own. "Why did you vehemently claim that you killed Sara? I… don't understand. You loved her… and she you."
Oliver felt the cold seep into his soul once again, and he closed his eyes. "What if I told you that I couldn't tell you?"
"Then I would suspect that you were lying, but the truth is ugly and… painful."
He felt dark laughter escape through his lips in a huff. "It's far more than that," he corrected. "It's blood-soaked."
Several moments passed and the flames crackled and the wood splintered, echoing through the air. The cabin was dark and the icy winds were audible through the thick wood. Small windows on the side of the room were covered in ice, and the flames were reflected through it.
Nyssa's hand suddenly gripped his own not unkindly. "Any truth, no matter how evil or corrupt, is better than a generous lie. I just want to understand, Oliver. What possible conclusion would convince you to lie to my father, to me?" Her hand jolted and Oliver looked at her, startled. "It's because you couldn't find who had murdered Sara, isn't it? You didn't want your city to suffer. Oh, of course. You would do that, wouldn't you? Oh, why would you do that, you damned fool?"
Oliver wet his lips and exhaled roughly. "No, that's not the reason, Nyssa. You're right. I did lie about killing Sara. I didn't kill her; I was grief-stricken when I saw her body."
"I already knew that, Oliver. You're stalling. Get to the heart of the matter."
"I did discover who killed Sara, but the murderer… wasn't the killer." He held up his other hand, "Don't interrupt, please. I'm about to tell you, but it's… difficult, you see."
"You… knew the murderer, didn't you?" Nyssa's voice was soft, on the precipice of an eruption. "You didn't want them to suffer, so you took sole possession of the blame."
He nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. "Thea… fired the arrows that ended Sara's life," he bit out softly, hating the truth in those accursed words.
She continued to stare at him a moment longer, the tension inside her building, conveyed by her eyes. Nyssa shook her hand out of his hand, and her face was blank. "Your… sister killed Sara," she stood to her feet, turning from him and moved towards the fire, the cold in Oliver's body intensifying with each step. He watched her, feeling the intensity of her emotions, knowing its roots, seeing her face in the radiant, orange glow of the crackling fire. There was nothing he could do; she must deal with the knowledge of the blood-soaked truth, and only then would he be able to explain. She whipped her head towards him, eyes glaring. "Explain."
"My sister is Malcolm Merlyn's biological daughter," his face darkened in rage, "and she blindly, stupidly chose to trust the bastard after Slade's siege. For months, she has been in his psychotic grip, twisted by his poisonous deeds and words and actions. He has turned her into a killer, and if you believe anything of what I am sharing, believe this: there is nothing more I want than to watch the life painfully fade out of his body."
"I believe that,"
"You need to believe all of it because it's the blood-soaked truth that you wanted to know. Thea was under Malcolm's influence, manipulated into killing Sara by a drug called Votura that has the unique effect-"
"The 'Slave Drug'," she interrupted him, "I know of it. My father sent me on a mission several years ago to assassinate the heads of a criminal empire that ran human sex trafficking all over the globe. They were so successful with their clients because they forced Votura on the women and even the few men. The captured then became the perfect sex slaves." She spat out, rage and disgust carved into her face.
Oliver nodded in understanding, knowing how evil the world can be. "Thea doesn't know what she did, has no memory of killing Sara. Malcolm had an incriminating, damning video of Thea doing the deed that he showed me to force my hands. I lied to your father because I feared that he would kill my sister. That's the truth, Nyssa." His throat began to hurt and he took a sip of water from the bowl next to him.
Seconds passed until finally, Nyssa sat in front of him, eyes staring into his own. "By everything sacred, what you've been through; you're sister unknowingly killing a woman you loved, being forced to fight my father to save your sister's life, and then being resurrected." She whispered, eyes roaming his face in sympathy and something akin to fascination, "What you are going through now. You are a true warrior, Oliver. You are the prophesied heir to Ra's Al Ghul's throne."
His eyes shut and the cold was frigid, turning his soul to ice. "I don't want to be. It should be you."
"You can't escape fate, Oliver," her voice was understanding, empathetic. "It's something I have had to deal with since we resurrected you. I had to accept my fate of not becoming Ra's Al Ghul."
"I've already accepted my fate," he revealed, opening his eyes tiredly, connecting with Nyssa's. "But it doesn't mean that I like my fate or refuse to wish for a different destiny."
"I'm not sure many do," she said softly and her eyes narrowed, tilting her head as she looked at him. "You need not worry. I will not harm your sister, you have my word; there would be no justice in doing so, only cruelty. Malcolm Merlyn is why Sara was murdered and sooner or later, my sword will be stained with his blood."
His relief was tangible, "Thank you, Nyssa. Not many in your position would be so merciful." His lips quirked, "I would like to watch that, you killing Malcolm. I think it would be cathartic."
He was surprised when she laughed quietly, genuine emotion flashing in her hypnotic eyes. "I wouldn't mind that," she smiled slightly and her eyes connected to his bare chest, to the scars littering his skin. Her smile faded, "Sarab and I have already concocted a plan during your 'sleep'. My father is suspicious of our long departure, no doubt. He cannot know that I and Sarab betrayed him. That's why, once we depart from our current dwelling, I will be returning to Starling City with you."
"Now wait a minute-"
Nyssa interrupted, "I've had much more time to think about this than you have, Oliver, same goes for Sarab. You will need my help. I am who has been nursing your body back from death and can deal with any future problems. Your team wouldn't understand. They know nothing of the Lazarus Pit or Soultaker. They know nothing of the implications of resurrecting one from the afterlife. I am the only one who can aid you in a full recovery because, despite what you may tell them, you're not fully healed yet."
"And Maseo?"
"He will depart to Nanda Parbat when we journey to Starling City, informing my father that I am continuing my mission to bring your body to him. He will say that I am infuriated at your continued survival and your defiance, your challenging of Ra's Al Ghul." Her eyes became deadly serious, capturing him with the intensity. "Sarab will declare that you had somehow survived the duel, no words mentioning his and my own exploits in your survival; I ventured that he could convince my father that after you were kicked off the mountain-"
Oliver flinched, images exploding in his eyes, blinding him, and his breathing elevated, the phantom feelings spasming through his body. His head dropped and he curled inward, seeking salvation from the pain, the memories.
The cold.
Nyssa's fingers suddenly gently, soothingly kneaded his neck again, driving away the pain and phantoms of her father's power. Slowly, like a speedometer dropping from hundreds of miles per hour to zero without the use of a brake, he felt the lurking memories cease under her ministrations. He sighed and the divine feeling of Nyssa's fingers slowed, getting ready to conclude.
"Please, don't stop." He whispered, hating his weakness, but not truly caring at the moment. He was so tired. "It soothes the… cold."
"Very well," her voice was filled with sympathy and something else. Not pity, but something else. "That was terribly rude of me, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to inflict such awful and dreadful…"
"I know," he said softly, taking peace from the sensation of Nyssa's fingers. "It's not your fault. …What did you venture to Maseo about after my fall?"
Her fingers continued as she spoke, "My father might believe that you somehow managed to grip the edge of one of the cliffs or a sturdy tree at the last moment - the adrenaline of a man on the cusp of death."
Oliver nodded in understanding, "He could say that I must have discarded the opportunity for peace, refusing to submit to it, and in my panic to live, I snagged a tree with my good hand." He sensed more than saw her glance at his scarred forearm and knew she understood. "It's happened to me before." His head continued to hang down, trying to protect him from the memories.
"How so?"
"Did Sara ever explain what happened with Slade Wilson?" When he saw her shadow cast by the fire nod, he continued with the strength that the fingers soothing him provided. "After the freighter blew up, I remember that I was set adrift hundreds of miles away from Lian Yu. I don't know how I ended that far away, but I was alone and wounds were weakening my body with each passing second. The ocean was a tempest; I was in a storm by myself. The freezing water enveloped me," he said softly, remembering those terrifying moments when he thought he would die. "It swallowed me under, twisted me in dizzying circles, then propelled me up to the surface only long enough to gasp a single breath of much-needed air, and then I was under again. And there was heat, too, a strange moist heat at my temple - from when Slade had punched me, no doubt. It seared through that icy water that kept swallowing me, a fire where no fire should exist." He felt a huff of almost hysterical laughter exhale through his lips. "There was ice, as well; an ice-like throbbing in my stomach and legs and chest - the explosion of the freighter had pierced my body with much debris, I later learned. It was odd, actually. The icy throbbing was warmed by the frigid sea around me." He took another sip of water from the bowl, head still bent.
"How did you survive?" Nyssa brought her other hand up and her second set of fingers joined the ministrations of their counterparts. He almost moaned at the sheer relief those simple soothing motions brought him.
He continued in a whisper, "I could feel these things, you know, recognize the panic as I felt them. I watched my body turning and twisting, arms and feet working frantically against the pressures of the whirlpool. I could feel, think, see, panic and struggle, yet there was a peace during all of it. You see, it was the calm of the observer, the uninvolved observer, separated from the events, having knowledge of them but not… intricately involved. Then a new type of panic spread through my body, my mind, surging through the heat and ice and the calm. I couldn't relent to the release of peace. I began to kick furiously, clawing at the walls of water above. I broke the surface and received a breath of air as my reward. I was surrounded by foam and smoke, burning my eyes along with the sea water. My salvation was the debris from the freighter that had been swept into the storm with me. I grasped a thick object - I think it was a barrel, or part of one, but I'm not certain - that kept me afloat. I held it and rode until I blacked out."
"Then you worked for A.R.G.U.S, along with Sarab under Amanda Waller." She concluded. He tensed, and his head lifted from its hung position. He dimly noticed how close Nyssa was, her arms wrapped around his face, resting on his shoulders as her fingers soothed his pain. Fear had spread through him at her words. Not because of her. No. About her father. Had Ra's Al Ghul been keeping tabs on his personal history? She must have sensed his line of thought because she quickly, honestly reassured him. "Sarab told me about it, about the General, Akio, and the Alpha and Omega bioweapon."
He breathed deeply in relief, the motions of Nyssa's fingers on his neck battering away the pain and fear. "Do you have any plans as to how I can battle your father again, let alone kill him?" He asked after several seconds.
"I believe that times will present themselves when we are in Starling City. Together, and - if you want - your sister and/or team can aid us, we can create an infallible plan utilizing the prophecies and anything else we can."
"And if I don't want you to come along?" He dared, forcing the words to pass through his tired throat.
Nyssa laughed softly, "You had tried to persuade me to believe that you had killed Sara, and after only a minute of consideration, I didn't believe you. This attempt you just ventured was even less convincing of a lie." A smile crossed her lips, "As much as the thought may pain us, we are stuck in this coming storm together, Oliver."
He stared into her amused eyes and he felt his own lips curl into a genuine smile, "It doesn't pain me," he whispered. "I trust you as much as I can trust anyone. You brought me back from the dead and nursed me to health. If you wanted me dead or hurt, I would be. Instead, I am on the road to recovery because of your decision - and Maseo's, too."
The fingers on his neck stilled for only a moment and then continued their ministrations. "Thank you for trusting me; I'm not sure it's deserved, but I will do my best to uphold it." The fingers slowed in their intensity and became even more gentle, "Now sleep, Oliver. You haven't slept in days. Your body and mind need rest. It's as much a weapon as any blade or arrow."
Oliver exhaled a breath of laughter and accepted her decree. She was right. He was so tired and now, with Nyssa's fingers keeping the cold at bay, it might be the only chance he will have to sleep peacefully.
His eyes fluttered shut and the crackling flames echoed quietly in the air, riveting his ears on the sound and he focused on it, drawing peace from the noise and Nyssa's touch.
XxXxXxXxXxX
All right, that's all for this one, folks! I hope you all enjoyed it. It was fun to write, and I'm satisfied with how it all came together. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought. If you have questions, ask! I'd be happy to answer.
**Two prophecies! All right, the first one is one that I came up with after some heavy brainstorming, but the second one is based heavily on the Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold poem in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. I always liked the idea of the League of Assassins having a long, rich lore, filled with ancient prophecies and omens. I hope you enjoyed those! I'm happy with how they turned out.
**Laurel finally discovers who murdered Sara and it goes about how you would realistically expect. I honestly think that Malcolm did feel regret about Thea's 'brainwashing' but couldn't really care less about Sara's role that, in his eyes, had had to be played.
**Felicity sleeps with Ray! I hope I at least caught some of you off guard with that scene, but I truly, truly believe that's how Felicity's character would react to the evidence of Oliver's demise instead of what Season 3 did. She has shown countless times in the show that she would have the capacity to do something reckless like that. (E.g. Felicity joins Helix against A.R.G.U.S and should have been tossed in prison. Marrying Oliver only after she heard from Eobard Thawne, who is usually honest if he knows that his words will hurt, that she was unknown in the future, in the age of heroes or something like that. Season 4's bullshit about her and Oliver 'breaking up' because he kept his son, whom he had just learned about, a secret from her.) If it seems that I'm bashing Felicity… well, I kind of am. I hate her character, always have. That doesn't mean that I can't recognize the good qualities in her, it's just that her bad qualities outweigh the good ones heavily.
**I've been asked by many of you what the 'pairing' is for this story, and I suppose that this story would be classified as an Oliver/Nyssa. Now, I am warning you: I am not good at romance, so please don't be expecting some mushy, sappy scenes to appear.
I think that's it! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and if you still have questions, feel free to review and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, if it's a guest review, I won't be able to directly message, so I'll answer in the disclaimer and author's note sections.
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