Hi guys!
I know it's been a while but school has been killing me with all the projects and finals coming up.
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The Queen mansion's living room was eerily quiet, save for the somber voice of the news reporter echoing from the large TV screen. Thea stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared at the screen. She was dressed in casual house clothes—a thin, cropped tank top with delicate straps, clinging to her figure and exposing her midriff entirely. The fabric was lightweight and slightly loose, dipping low at the neckline. She paired it with high-cut lounge shorts, sitting snugly on her hips with side slits that accentuated her legs. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few strands falling around her face. Despite the relaxed attire, her posture was tense, her sharp green eyes fixed on the screen.
On the screen, footage of the partially sunken Queen's Gambit played, the yacht's once-pristine hull now charred and broken. The reporter's voice was grave as they listed the presumed dead: Robert Queen, Oliver Queen, and the entire crew. Thea's jaw tightened as she listened, her mind racing with the knowledge that Oliver and Sara were alive but stranded. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to warn them, but it was quickly overshadowed by a simmering resentment toward Sara. *Why did she have to be on that yacht? Why did she have to ruin everything?*
Moira sat on the couch, her face pale and tear-streaked. She wore a simple black dress, her hands clutching a tissue as she stared at the screen in disbelief. Her usually immaculate appearance was disheveled, her hair slightly undone, and her makeup smudged from crying. But beneath the grief, there was a flicker of something else—guilt. She had known about the bomb, had played a part in the plan, but she hadn't expected it to feel like this. The weight of her actions pressed down on her, and she let out a shaky breath.
"This can't be happening," Moira whispered, her voice trembling. "Robert… Oliver…" Her hands clenched the tissue tighter, her knuckles white. She glanced at Thea, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and something darker—something she couldn't bring herself to name.
Thea stepped closer to her mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Mom…" she began, but her voice trailed off. What could she say? That she knew this would happen? That Oliver and Robert were alive, stranded on some godforsaken island? No. She couldn't. Not yet.
The reporter continued, their tone grim. "Search and rescue efforts are ongoing, but officials say the chances of finding survivors are slim." Thea's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to warn them, but it was quickly overshadowed by a simmering resentment. Did Sara really not feel the same way about me? Why was she so willing to kiss Oliver, but had such a rough reaction to me? The thought burned in her chest, a mix of heartbreak and anger that she couldn't shake. She had trusted Sara, had let herself believe that what they shared could have been real. But now, all she could think about was that kiss the way Sara had leaned into Oliver, the way she had pulled away from Thea. It hurt more than she cared to admit.
Thea arrived at the Lance household, her heart heavy with guilt and dread. She knocked on the door, her black tube top hugging her frame. Her low-waisted, sheer black pants revealed glimpses of her toned legs beneath the delicate fabric. Quentin answered, his face drawn and tired. He was dressed in a rumpled button-down shirt and slacks, his usual sharp appearance dulled by grief.
"Thea," he said, his voice hoarse. "Come in."
Dinah was seated in the living room, her eyes red from crying. She wore a simple gray sweater and black pants, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Laurel paced the room, her arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed in a black blouse and jeans, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her expression was a mix of anger and sorrow.
Thea stepped inside, her tall frame commanding attention despite her young age. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "There's something you need to know," she began, her voice soft but steady. "Sara… she was on the yacht. I saw her and Oliver through a window together."
The room fell silent. Dinah let out a choked sob, her hands flying to her mouth. Quentin's face hardened, and Laurel's eyes filled with anger. "What do you mean, she was on the yacht?" Laurel demanded, her voice sharp. "Why would she be on the Queen's Gambit?"
Thea's jaw tightened, her voice tinged with resentment. "I don't know. But I saw them together. They were… kissing." The words felt like acid on her tongue, but she forced them out. She couldn't keep it to herself anymore.
Quentin's entire body tensed. His hands curled into fists, his grief momentarily overtaken by rage. His breathing grew uneven as his jaw clenched. "She was with him?" His voice was low, strained, as if forcing the words out physically hurt. He turned away, pacing toward the window, his fingers gripping the back of a chair. His shoulders heaved as he exhaled sharply.
Dinah flinched at his reaction but didn't try to stop him. Laurel's arms tightened across her chest, her expression unreadable.
Thea stayed silent, rooted to the spot. She had spent years in this house—eating dinner with them, laughing with Sara, listening to Quentin's stories. This place had been like a second home. And now, it felt colder than ever.
After a long silence, Quentin spoke again, his voice raw. "I told her… I told her not to get involved with that damn boy." His hands ran over his face, rough and tired. "And she still—" He cut himself off, shaking his head, unable to finish.
His gaze flickered toward Thea. For a moment, he looked at her like she was just another reminder of Oliver. But then he really saw her—the pain in her eyes, the guilt weighing her down. He had watched her grow up alongside his daughters, had known her as more than just Robert Queen's kid.
And suddenly, the anger cracked.
His shoulders sagged. He let out a slow, shaky breath and finally turned to face her fully. "She meant something to you, didn't she?" His voice softened, though it was still thick with grief.
Thea's composure wavered, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I loved her. And she chose him." Her throat tightened, and the words came out raw, filled with quiet devastation. "She chose him, and now she's gone."
Quentin swallowed hard. He didn't hesitate this time—he stepped forward and pulled her into a firm, fatherly embrace. Thea stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then she gripped his shirt tightly, burying her face against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, kid," Quentin murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I know how much she meant to you."
Dinah stood, her tears still falling, and wrapped her arms around both of them. "She's gone," Dinah whispered, her voice trembling. "My little girl is gone."
Laurel hesitated, arms still crossed, but then she stepped forward. Her voice softened. "We're here for you, Thea. All of us. We'll get through this. For Sara."
Thea swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "That's not the only reason I came here," she admitted, her voice cracking. She pulled away slightly, wiping her eyes. "I also wanted to apologize… for Oliver. I know he hurt you. And now, with Sara…"
Quentin exhaled slowly, as if letting go of some of his anger, though not all of it. He shook his head, his voice quieter but firm. "Thea, you don't have to apologize. None of this is your fault. Oliver and Sara made their choices."
Dinah squeezed Thea's hand. "You're family. We could never blame you."
Laurel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Oliver's always been Oliver. And Sara… she was my sister, but she made her own decisions. You don't have to carry their mistakes."
Thea nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as the four of them stood together, finding solace in each other's presence. For a moment, the pain felt a little less overwhelming, even as the reality of Sara's loss hung heavy in the air.
The Queen mansion was filled with mourners, the air thick with whispered condolences and the scent of flowers. Thea moved through the crowd, her presence impossible to ignore. She wore a black micro crop top. She paired it with high-waisted, sheer mesh pants, revealing nearly everything underneath except for thin lace panels running along the sides. A open-front blazer, more decorative than functional, draped over her arms, and she completed the look with black stilettos and a delicate choker. Her hair cascaded freely down her back, adding a touch of effortless elegance to the bold ensemble.
Moira was surrounded by well-wishers, her grief palpable. She wore a black dress with a lace overlay, her hair styled neatly but her face pale and drawn. Thea watched her mother from across the room, her heart aching for her but also feeling a sense of detachment. She knew the truth about what happened, but she couldn't share it with anyone. The weight of that knowledge was almost unbearable.
As she moved through the crowd, Thea's mind raced with thoughts of the things she needed to do before canon started and Oliver returned. She couldn't afford to waste time grieving. There was too much at stake.
Thea returned to the Queen mansion after the funeral, her mind racing. She was still dressed in her funeral attire, the black suit and heels giving her an air of authority as she moved through the quiet halls. She picked up the phone and dialed Walter's number, her voice calm but urgent. "Walter, I need to see you. Come to the mansion as soon as you can."
Walter's voice was steady on the other end. "Of course, Thea. I'll be there shortly."
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**Author's Note:**
I know this chapter is a bit weak and very short comparedto usual, but I'm not really good at expressing the kinds of emotions in this chapter, but I tried my best. And also the drama between Thea and Moira, I had no idea how to write Moira's reaction, since she is partially responsible for the yatch, but also Mourning the "death" of her husband and son.
Thank you all for sticking with me through this chapter, especially with the delays due to school. Your support means a lot to me, and I can't wait to share what's next.