Hello! I know it has been too long since I've come up with anything for this. The year had truly taken its toll so it feels good to be writing again. To all the readers who are still here after all this time, thank you for your incredible patience. To those who have messaged me about this fic in the interim, I've read your messages and please know that it is with your kindness that I have been able to power through a lot of the shit that this pandemic has wreaked, especially on healthcare workers like me. To everybody else, please keep safe and continue to be kind to one another. I hope you enjoy this chapter! XOXO

Chapter 10

"Run!"

That had Felicity bolting.

And Oliver was right behind her.

One foot in front of the other, they ran. But soon, they were running out of ground to cover. Her feet were losing their grip, as the path slanted higher.

Oliver, more sure footed in the moonlight than she was, had taken over, leading her by the arm as they made their way higher still.

"Watch your step," he said as he guided her forward, with a sureness in manner even as the night grew deeper. "There's running water about."

True enough, Felicity heard the faint trickle of water. But it was the sounds of once distant men looming ever closer that choked her breath.

They were being chased and they were rapidly losing ground , Oliver thought as he scanned their surroundings. The sounds emanating from their would-be captors were more distinct now and the gleam of their torches more visible.

He carefully traipsed through the dense foliage, making sure to steer clear of the boulders that dotted their path. It was a bloody nuisance having to move their way like this in the dark, but they had no choice but to forge ahead.

He thought he had seen a crevice and was just about to head to it when his foot slipped. Luckily, he had seized upon a hanging vine, which he then used to guide himself towards the gap between the two large rocks. He tested the walls and found that though it would be a tight fit for the two of them, the craggy cleft was hidden well enough from view to suit their purposes.

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'Tis not good! Felicity's mind kept repeating as her eyes kept darting around for a place to hide. Their enemies were just around the bend and she would not deign to fathom what would become of them if they were caught.

She had been keeping herself from being needlessly worried but she was failing terribly ever since she'd lost sight of Oliver, whom she thought was right ahead of her.

She had been just about to clear another boulder, when she was suddenly snapped from the air by an unseen force. And before she knew it, she had been pressed flat against what felt like a jumble of cloth and skin. The rush of uncertainty added to the jagged treble of Felicity's heart.

"Shhh," a voice whispered. "'Tis I."

Oliver. Before she could let out her relief, however, the fiery blaze of torches stole her nascent sigh. Noises began to filter into the night air. It seemed that there were quite a few men who had been after them, judging by the heavy trudge of their boots against the rocky underbrush.

They stood quietly, with nary a breath between them, as they pressed themselves further still into the rocky crevice that sheltered them.

"They can't have gone far," a gruff voice said.

"Rally the troops. Scour the forest. The Merlyn girl falls to us tonight!"

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Oliver felt Felicity stiffen at what they'd heard, but he pressed her closer to him as the patter of several booted feet travelled farther away from them.

This was what he had feared. He should've stolen her away from this god-awful place the instant they heard about the threat. He should've defied her father. Damn it!

He had wanted to keep her close, if only to reassure her, but as soon as the last footfall fell silent, she quickly separated herself from him.

He could see, nay, feel the panic begin to suffuse her form— and that would not do. They had miles afore them.

It was different… having the threats confirmed by her own ears. It took Felicity to the heart of the matter. It was only then that she realized how dunderheaded she'd been about the whole affair. An army was out to get her and if it weren't for the contingencies that both her brother and Oliver had set in motion, who knew what would have—

A gentle tap on her shoulder startled her out of her rambling thoughts.

"We must keep moving," Oliver said as he handed back her satchel. It had been unlatched from her when he had quickly snatched her into their hiding place.

The gesture had been enough to distract her. She took a breath deep enough to steel her core, and then she nodded her head.

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Tommy Merlyn had not been surprised at the chaos that erupted throughout the camp. What bothered him, however, was the sheer gall these miscreants had. He had been expecting a covert attack, an abduction under cover of night, but not this… this siege.

He'd secured Lauren, dispatching her with her father and King Robert, as well as some of his honor guard. And he prayed that Oliver had taken Felicity as far away from this godforsaken land as his horse would allow. He took measure of the battle unfolding on his very turf and was grateful that his sister's skills had allowed him to quickly recover most of his strength following his brush with death in a matter of days.

He swiftly mounted his steed, dug in his spurs and hurried to where his father had been laying waste to their enemies.

"Men! To me!"

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Lyla felt more than heard the rumbling of trouble afoot. It seemed that her companion thought similarly. Their wards were in danger and the look they shared said it all. And so they wordlessly declared a truce and scurried to the waypoint they'd reserved for just such an occasion.

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Savagery was never far from the surface for King Malcolm Merlyn. It raged in his blood. It was forged in his soul.

The adrenaline that coursed through his veins as he cut through the swath of men who would stand against him was fueling a wrath that had been simmering since they'd all learnt of the threat to his daughter's life. No one threatened his House and lived. He'd already failed once. He vowed never to fail again.

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Robert, King of Starling, brought up the rear of the contingent that they would see to safety. It was a testament to Malcolm's spies that they were merely executing what had been planned all those days ago. They had known that an attack was imminent. What they had not counted on was the sheer numbers that descended upon them. Oliver had been right. There was a hand that pulled the strings and it was now incumbent upon them to seek it and root it out.

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Sara Lance had known that she was different, even as a wee lass, and there was no place where she felt like she belonged except in a battlefield. And the drumming of her heart in time to the thundering of her horse's hooves just gave her that feeling she had always relished. She aimed both horse and sword with gusto, leaving bodies in her wake as she led whom she could away from the fleeing Princess.

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"Felicity!" Oliver roared as he brought his stolen horse to bear. He thought they were clear of the forest as dawn had broken, but they'd been set upon by a small squad. He'd gone after the two on horseback since they'd needed the horses but that had left Felicity to her own devices. He saw four foot soldiers closing in on her and she could not afford to get trapped.

Felicity was far too occupied with fending off her attackers to look up, but she heard him. His voice tracked to the fore of her, as she swung her sword ruthlessly in defense.

She was lucky that the glint of her opponents' weapons against the rising sun had given her eyes enough cues to pinpoint the trajectory of their blows. But, as skilled as she was, the four of them were bigger and they would surely rout her, given enough time.

The heavy clang of metal against metal underscored the power behind their thrusts. They were aggressive, relentless, trapping her and forcing her to defend herself on all sides.

She would not cower. By Gods, she wouldn't. She met them blade for blade, steel for steel, with a cold lethality that, to any who would see, was as efficient as it was graceful.

With swords at close measure, she grabbed one soldier's blade, controlling it before dispatching him with a bone-crunching kick to the knee. But before she could recover, the hacking glint of an axe had her twisting to her side.

Thrown off balance with her guard broken, she quickly threw her weight to the ground, narrowly missing the true edge of the battle axe that would have hacked her head clean off.

She tried to roll to her side to avoid the down thrust of the third soldier's mace but the fall had knocked the wind out of her.

The soldier had her dead to rights. And the last remaining second of her life stretched as everything around her slowed. The din of the ongoing battle faded as all her attention was focused on the weapon that was being swung at her head. And she could not for the life of her, or whatever was left of it, stop her eyes from closing against the inevitability of her death.

There had been no thinking for Oliver.

His body and his steed was primed to go after any and all threats, and the most immediate one was swinging a mace at Felicity's head. He did not really know what came over him, but there was an innate, almost instinctive force that spurred him on even as her name was wrenched most urgently from his gut.

"Felicity!"

And before he knew it, Oliver had knocked the soldier away from her by delivering a well-timed blow to the side of the assailant's head. The action had made his horse rear its forelegs and it was not before long that his steed had also trampled upon another one of the soldiers.

He could not see the immediate aftermath of his actions but he hoped that he had given her enough time to regroup. He had to steer the horse away to avoid crushing her.

The roar of her name had Felicity opening her eyes to see the mace-wielding soldier lying sideways, unconscious, probably dead at her feet.

She quickly used her arms and legs to spring herself from the ground up, in a trick she had learned from the Nippon Widow, just in time to deflect a glancing blow from the last sword-wielder. The successful parry had left him open, just in time for a well-executed thrust that Felicity sunk into his side with all the force she could muster.

Having dispatched her last opponent, she scanned her surroundings and spotted Oliver making his way back to her, at full tilt, with his right arm outstretched.

Having recognized the rescue form, she swiftly sheathed her sword, collected her satchel and readied herself by likewise raising her right arm. In a matter of seconds, she propelled herself off the ground just as Oliver clasped her hand and flung her behind him on the horse.

It was a hard landing but she was solidly planted on the horse's bare backside. It would be a rough ride, she knew, but at least, they were mobile.

And they would realize, only later, that their hands had held fast until long after they had surmounted the most immediate threat to their lives.

Notes:

dunderheaded (adj): foolish

traipse (v): to walk or move wearily or reluctantly

nuisance (n): a person or thing causing inconvenience or annoyance

dead to rights (idiom): with no possibility of escape or evasion

Nippon Widow (person): a widow of Far Eastern descent to whom Felicity was sent by her father for combat training as a child