So I hope you guys still remember this story? Happy New Year! (Arrow characters not mine obv)

~Fallen For Your Eyes, But They Don't Know Me Yet~
Part V

Through half lidded eyes he watched her watch him as he curled his fingers around her dainty hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of her smooth skin. She seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open enough to give him a reassuring look, the blue in her eyes clouded over with slumber. Still, through her trance, she smiled, a slight quirk of her lips as her eyes drifted shut that was enough to send his heart pounding against his rib cage, enough to absolve any thoughts of propriety, any thoughts at all.

He laid beside her, gently, their hands entangled in a chaste embrace, their arms only barley grazing, his warmth enlacing with hers. The flames topping off the dripping candles swayed restlessly in the toasty chamber, the sleepy fire casting a shifting glow upon Felicity's face, her features appearing soft, young. The tousles of hair that had framed her face so perfectly during their talk were sprawled out disorderedly on her pale bedding, brilliant gold against Ivory fabric.

His hand twitched curiously as he got the sudden urge to run his fingers through the fair stands, his fingertips against the curled ends. It struck him that he'd never found any interest in a woman's hair, never paid much attention to how it was styled, never wondered what it would feel like clutched in his palm, never, at least not before her.

It would be easy to reach over, and to run his fingers through the silken locks, but as he thought of caressing the tresses of hair, he thought of her blue eyes locked with his, blue on blue. He thought of the small smile that might grace her lips when his hand finally connected with her fair ringlets and he thought of how her eyes might flutter shut, melting into his touch...

someday

So he sunk further into the overlay, head turned to her direction like a sun starved vine, vivid visions of what someday would feel like curling warmly through his thoughts.

The air was stale, rancid in the way air sometimes could be, and it left a bad taste in her mouth, a taste she was thoroughly sick of.

The laundry room was hot, scorching sheets dipping in and out of boiling water, fine gowns and coats running gently over the well versed fingers of castle laundresses, their beads of perspiration sizzling in the sweltering air.

Her hands, were she actually at her station, would be well on their way to chapped, even at the early hours of the day, red and blistery and nothing like the hands of a noble lady. She had told Ms. Marie that if she was to be the Queen of starling, she could not reduce herself to the common labor of a castle attendant any longer.

She had merely laughed in her face, the nerve! her mocking giggles still rang through the memory of her returning words, "the Queen of Starling? you? well I'd sooner see pigs fly!"

She huffed, lifting her nose, even now, at the memory

She'd show her sooner or later when the crown was perched delicately on her head. Maybe she'd even have a few pigs thrown off the roof for a good laugh, the look on the insufferable maid's face would well be worth it.

She shrugged her slender shoulders as if filing the idea for later and patted down at her skirts, the tough fabric rustling only slightly to her movements. She looked ahead through the dim hallways of the servant's wing, thinking only how she longed for the day she would no longer have to see the worn out bricks and the tired tiles...

The luxurious hallway was quiet, the stillness of the air telling her that the Queen and the Princess had long left for their morning activities through the castle. She knew better, though, than to think that the Prince had already risen from his slumber. Sleep, she remembered, was one of the many luxuries that the prince lets himself indulge in.

She snuck through, practiced feet gliding quietly through the hallway, soundless and unidentifiable were a maid to pass by. She was just about to round the corner when the sound of a latch opening froze her Pettit feet from advancing any further. She heard a heavy door creek as though someone were trying to open it noiselessly. She could almost hear the person cringing at the betraying sound that their failure of stealth echoed through the corridors. They obviously did not know that the royal doors were made in such a way to alarm of any invasions and had to be lifted at a certain angle if the somebody wished not to awaken the whole royal wing.

She felt the urge to cluck her tongue and almost sighed at the amateur.

Edith poked her nose out from the edge of the wall, the excitement of catching two lovers in the act overpowering her sense of danger at being caught escaping her duties. She watched in pressing awe as she realized that it was the princess' room that the mystery man was escaping from.

She felt her jaw hit the pristine ivory tiles. Who would have imagined that the perfect princess had it in her?

She felt an eyebrow lift as she let her eyes roam the mysterious suitor. He was well built, broad shoulders that looked to be covered in fine cloth... so he was a noble. Her mind immediately catalogued the nobles that had been present at the ball the past evening... a green vest? She tried to remember seeing any nobles handsome enough to have a rendezvous with the princess from her spot at the refreshments table the night before... she was sure she would have remembered seeing any man with a behind built the way this mans behind was built. Lord have mercy

She came up blank but allowed her eyes to follow the glossy fabric's path down to where it hitched into his waist, giving him the perfect shape of masculinity. Her eyes feasted until they hit the plump edge of the handsome man's derrière. The fabric of his breeches was pulled taunt over the curve of his bottom and...

she paused, thinking she'd seen that perfectly rounded rear somewhere before and

Oh Heavens !

she would recognize that behind anywhere... it couldn't be

she traced her eyes back up his sculpted back and she saw a familiar shade of dirty blonde hair, tousled and plastered onto the nape of his neck with a thin layer of sweat.

It was the prince, the prince, her prince

She denied knowing it at first, telling herself that the broad silhouette didn't fit that of Oliver, but as he turned, finally having closed the scandalous door, she saw the clear blue of his eyes and she saw the birthmark ever present under the curve of his mouth.

It was him, it was him and she thought back to what he's said to her "Surly I wont be married anytime soon"

She felt her cheeks redden, angry blood swirling around her face, warming her skin with utter spite.

well, well, well, she thought to herself, what do we have here?

Oh No! A woman scorned! Will Edith spill the beans? Will Felicity's honor be tainted? and why Is Oliver Queen's ass so perfect?! tune in next update to find out!

-Martha x