Title: Cinderella and the Ball

Spoilers: None, set in season 2. I've seen 2.12, refusing to watch episode 13 until this is done.

Warnings: Character harm. I haven't killed anyone in the Arrow Universe. Yet.

Rating: T for language and violent scenes.

Category: Action, team-fic with heavy hints of Olicity that are open to interpretation.

Summary: There's trouble in store for Felicity when a mission goes wrong for Oliver, leaving him with a decision about her that could change everything. Can Oliver handle the pressure? Can he handle the guilt? More importantly, will she get to the Ball?

Disclaimer: All characters and the universe they exist in belong to the CW, Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg and DC Comics. This piece of fan-fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was exchanged. No copyright infringement was intended and the original characters, situations and plots are property of the author. This piece of fan-fiction must not be archived without the author's consent.

Author's Notes: As I said, I'm up to 2.12 so was left with "These are the only two that matter." And the inclusion of Roy into Team Arrow. I take it from spoilers that Sara joins the team, too. I'm not sure how true that is so I'm working with this story being set after episode 12, before 13 and Sara may or may not be on the team, but she is back in Starling. As my third Arrow fic, this one is completely different to the other two! Enjoy!

ARROW-HOOD-QUEEN

There was an eerie silence in the room, until some muffled sounds began to break through the haze. It was dark, aside from a small slither of sunlight peeping through the curtains which illuminated the blonde hair surrounded by blankets and pillows. A female figure stood above her, arms crossed and anger oozing from her entire stance. She coughed again and the sound permeated the blonde's thick, curly and unruly hair, the blankets and her own mind that was trying to block everything out.

"Wake up!" The anger oozing woman snapped, kicking the bundled up mass on the makeshift bed. "Now!"

The blonde opened an eye, squinting through the pain of the light. No, it was not just the pain of the light; her entire body ached. She felt as if she had gone ten rounds with Oliver. Perhaps she had. Forcing herself to sit up, the pain and discomfort were clear to anyone as she winced and tried to open both eyes. The room was spinning, but only for her. The female who had kicked her was standing still however; she had no idea how that was possible as a wave of nausea from the movement hit her hard in the stomach. Perhaps that was the after effect of the woman's kick. Why had she seen fit to kick her? Just because she was having trouble waking up? Nothing made any sense.

Peering through her unruly, bed-head hair, the blonde took in her surroundings because she already knew that she was not in her own bed. Her bed was comfy and a double with far too many pillows and the softest covers and blankets. She could spend all day in her bed sometimes. This was not her bed and as she took in her surroundings, the blonde soon realised that it was because she was lying on straw with some sheets, barely off of the actual floor.

"What the…?" the blonde tried to say, but her throat was too dry for any noise to come out. It was drier than a desert, but she could see no glass around her. In fact there was no furniture at all. Why would there be if there was not even a real bed.

"Get up!" The female that was looming over her, shielded in shadow declared. Desperately, the blonde tried to remember what had happened. She had no idea where she was and no clue as to how she had arrived there. In fact, she could not remember anything. There was no final memory of an event within her mind. How had she developed such amnesia, she wondered to herself, running her hands over her head and searching for wounds. There were no wounds, no extra pain than that which her entire body had already felt.

Squinting upwards again at the shadowed face of her kicker, the blonde tried to figure out who she was. Perhaps then it would explain to her why she had kicked her. Had she been on a mission with Oliver? Again, her memory failed her. What had she done that day? When had she awoken in her own bed? What had she worn? Glancing down at herself, at her clothing, the brown burlap material was itching her and was certainly not what she had dressed in that morning. Had she?

"Who are you?" Her dry throat screamed at her with the words that managed to escape. She needed some water. "Water?"

"You can have water when you're done."

"Done?"

The angry woman moved swiftly and slapped her hand across the blonde's jaw, the sound echoed loudly through her mind. The tears that sprang into her eyes were not from the physical pain, but the audible pain. Had she gone to work and sparred with Oliver? Had something happened to her on the way home? The angry woman, grabbed the blonde by the chin and forced her to meet her eyes. The blonde instantly recognised her, but took a few moments to process the image. "Mrs Queen?"

The anger morphed with confusion as Moira roughly released the blonde's face. "Stop wittering on and get up. Do you not understand the situation?"

The blonde was scared now and so forced herself to her feet, fighting through the pain. From the surface, it appeared as if she were in a wooden walled room. Perhaps a cabin somewhere. But she had been in Starling City, not the woods. There was a window, covered by curtains other than a small slither which allowed the daylight in and a door that was closed. Were they locked in? Had she been with Moira at some point during the day and had they been kidnapped?

"Mrs Queen, we need to get out of here." The blonde ran towards the door, but she was stopped by a pinching clench on her elbow. "Ow!"

"What is wrong with you? I swear, I do everything in your best interest and you just simply knock back everything that I say and do."

"I'm really confused, Mrs Queen."

"Mrs Queen? Who is Mrs Queen?"

"Oh my God, do you have amnesia, too?" The blonde took hold of her shoulders and spoke really slowly. "Mrs Queen, we will be okay. Do you know who I am?"

"Unhand me!" She wrenched herself free with such force that the blonde almost fell back to the floor, which her body would prefer rather than being stood upright. It was taking all of her energy to simply remain upright; the fog within her mind was not clearing. "Of course I know who you are. Now get yourself dressed and get on with your chores."

"Chores?"

"If I could fire you, so help me, I would!"

"Honestly, Mrs Queen, we need to figure out what's going on here."

"I'll tell you what's going on here: you will get dressed and start on your chores. I need this house to be spick and span before our guests come over." She moved towards the door that the blonde was presumed was locked. "Get to it, Cinderella."

The blonde stood there staring as the door slammed open and closed, leaving her alone in the wooden shack of a room. She may not remember how she got where she was or what on earth had happened to her, but she was sure of one thing. "My name's not Cinderella," she whispered to the lonely room. "It's Felicity.