Send ╳ for my muse dying in your muse’s arms.
A loved one wouldn’t die because of him ever again, he wouldn’t allow it. He had made that mistake once, with Shado and Sara but if Ivo had pointed the gun at Shado first he would of jumped in front of her as well.
Oliver knew what his mother was planning. Knew she was planning to sacrifice herself to save her children, would give up her life so they could live. Slade’s plan was to take everything from Oliver Queen in payment for Shado’s life.No.
He couldn’t let Slade take Moira. He couldn’t. It didn’t matter that she had lied to him about Thea’s father, about the echo of betrayal that had surged through him. She didn’t deserve to die for that.
Thea needed her more than she needed him. Neither of them had been the best of family members to the younger girl through her life, whether it be due to a softened heart or distant relations. But a girl would always need her mother.
He didn’t know how he had gotten to his feet. How he had shoved Moira out of the way of Slade’s incoming blade, it slicing through his mangled chest like hot iron through wax, crimson quickly staining the man’s white shirt. He didn’t even see Slade’s expression drop, shock spreading across his face like fire snaking its way through dry grass. Then the next thing the archer knew, it was very hard to breathe. Sword pulled frantically from his chest, Oliver stumbled back, his mother somehow catching him and laying him on the cold ground.
Thea’s shrill cry of his name echoed through the air, Moira’s voice joining in a lament of disbelief and terrible grief as she gripped his body. It was a maddening tumble of “Oliver no” and “no please” and “don’t die please Ollie don’t leave us again”. Slade was stock still, an armoured statue staring down at the kid now dying in his mother’s arms.
Everything was getting very fuzzy. Ollie’s entire vision consisted of his mother, sobbing as one hand was pressed into the wound through his body, the other trembling on his face, still as gentle as ever. Queen’s voice was barely a mumble, a ringing in his ears making it hard for him to even hear himself.
Slade’s crusade was over. No more hurting. No more destruction. What would he be able to do now his point of revenge was dead? Nothing. That’s what.The emerald archer had been waiting for death to claim him ever since the island took him under its razor sharp wing, was waiting for the day when his luck would run out. But hey, at least he died protecting his family. That was something worth mentioning.
“Y…y-you’ll… b…be… okay…”
He couldn’t speak now. It was too hard, too painful. Everything was numb, the shine in his stormy eyes dulling, like the serene, terrifying calm of the open sea. His body, always tense, always ready to fight, finally relaxed, more than it had in at least seven years. There was no saving him from an iron blade through the heart. He thought of Thea. He thought of everyone. Laurel, Sara, Roy, Felicity, Diggle. Tommy. Will you be there waiting for me, my friend?
And, as he looked up to her, Oliver gave his mother a tiny, lopsided smile, memories of her rushing through his mind as his breath became slow, heartbeat even slower. Even through all the ups and downs. She was a good mother. She loved him, loved Thea. And that was all he could ask for.
As the thrum of his heartbeat stopped, it seemed that Slade was going to get what he wanted.
