Title: Wilted Flowers
Author: QueencestQueen
Pairings:Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)
Rating: M (or E, depending on the rating system)

Summary:
What is this place?The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

Notes/Warnings:
- AU for the entire series,
- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews
- This first chapter was edited by jameslawerences.

Disclaimer:
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Oliver straightened his jacket as he climbed out of the taxi and closed the bright yellow door behind him. He fixed the center button on the suit as he made his way up the walkway toward the mansion. Silence engulfed him as the taxi pulled away, heading back for civilization. What is this place? The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." It loomed large over the landscape of the countryside, and not in a good way. Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like the Queen Mansion. Their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread.

What the hell had happened during those five years? He had some of the pieces to the puzzle, but not all of them, and what he did know made no sense. How had all their family money been lost? Surely there had to have been some safeguards? Surely, his father would have been able to find a way to make sure they were both taken care of. It didn't make sense, but it happened nonetheless. According to Tommy, seven months after the Gambit sank, his mother had sold off Queen Consolidated and six months after that the two remaining Queens had been forced to abandon Starling City entirely. Those were all the details Tommy knew about, but it had given him a place to start.

It had taken him awhile to get even an inkling of where to find his mother. There had been no mention of Thea. Surely, at seventeen, she would be making a name for herself; a better name then he'd made for himself at that age. Something was seriously wrong here and he couldn't let it go. He wanted to accomplish two tasks at once: righting the wrongs of his father while simultaneously finding the rest of his family, but the task proved too arduous. He tried to enact vengeance on the names on his father's list to honor his memory, but his focus on that task just wasn't possible while the looming question of his mother and sister's fate was still out there. No, he decided, the mission his father had given him would have to wait. Finding and reconnecting with his family was more important. He trusted that his father would agree with this decision.

Three months after returning home from the island, his research first revealed the mention of the foreboding mansion. As he researched more and more into Foxworth Hall, Oliver became more and more certain that his mother and sister would indeed be there. This was his mother's childhood home, and the most likely place they would come to after having to abandon Starling. After all, where else would someone run when they were in trouble? Home.

That hypothesis had seemed much more plausible, however, before he viewed the house in person. How could this dark place possibly be their mother's childhood home? How could it be anyone's childhood home? The grand estate wasn't inviting in any way. As a matter of fact, the house screamed 'stay the fuck away.' God, he hoped his mother and sister had not stayed here long. The idea of his bright, chipper baby sister being forced to live in this place made him unhappy.

He grasped the antiqued door knocker in his hand and brought the heavy thing down on the wood twice. He just hoped that these people, his grandparents, could tell him where to find his family. Oliver wasn't even aware of the fact that his mother's parents were still alive until he started his research, growing up his mother seemed to avoid any mention of them whatsoever. It was all very strange. He needed answers and this was the place he was hopefully going to finally get them after almost nine months.

When no one came to answer the door, he raised the bronze handle and brought it down again. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened to reveal a very old man in a butler's uniform. The man did not look welcoming as he stared at Oliver with blank, uncaring eyes. "May I help you?," he coughed.

"Yes," Oliver said, a little thrown by the man's disposition, "I'm looking for Moira-"

"Is Ms. Foxworth expecting you?" the butler asked, cutting Oliver's sentence short. Ms. Foxworth? Why would mom go back to her maiden name?

"No," he said, pulling himself to his full height just in case he had to force his way past the man, "I imagine that she isn't."

"Who may I say is calling?" the elderly man asked, his eyes quickly scanning Oliver.

"Oliver Queen."

There was a fraction of a second when the man's eyes widened at the utterance of this surname, but the butler was quick to recover. He nodded and stepped back to allow Oliver entrance into the grand estate. He stepped into the large foyer, eyes sweeping immediately around the room looking for any possible threats automatically. There was a large spiral staircase to the left of him that the butler passed completely in favor of the far left door. "Please, remain here."

Inside, as it turned out, was even more intimidating then the outside. The walls were made of polished mahogany and the floors appeared to be marble. There were doors off the foyer then he'd ever seen in one room. The impression it gave off made him feel like he was waiting his turn to be interrogated and like he was being judged even though he was alone. It was...well, the only word he could think of was creepy.

"-sure he said his name was Oliver Queen?" The sound his mother's voice drifted into room and Oliver turned to face the door the other man exited through. He'd been waiting five years and nine months for this moment. Finally, he would be reunited with his family. It had been a long time coming.

"Yes, ma'am." The door he was facing opened then and out walked his mother, closely followed by the elderly butler

"Oliver?" Her voice was a whisper of shock as she caught sight of her son. She froze to that spot and he looked at her for a long while. She looked older then he remembered, but that was to be expected after so long. Her hair was still blonde for the most part, though he suspected that there might be a few silver strands among the tresses, and there were a few more lines around her eyes, but she still had that classic beauty to her. Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of her; Mom meant home and home was everything good.

Moira took a couple steps toward him eagerly and Oliver prepared to be embraced, but then she stopped completely. He watched confused as she turned instead to face the grumpy old man watching them with beady eyes. "My mother?" She asked, voice going childlike at the question. What an odd question,Oliver thought as his keen eyes absorbed everything about the unusual interaction.

"Gone to church, madam."

"How long has she been gone?"

"Half an hour ago, miss."

At that, the mother he remembered returned. She quickly dismissed the butler before she made her way to and embraced him. It was awkward, at first; it had been so long since he was hugged that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with such interactions anymore, but it didn't seem to deter her in any way. "Oh, my sweet boy." She whispered, clinging to him, tears trailing down her cheeks and into the fabric of his shirt. "I never thought…" She trailed off.

After a few seconds of hugging while he awkwardly patted her on the back, Moira finally released him. She composed herself quickly, though she continued to stare at him. He didn't blame her for it; he couldn't look away from her either, his mind again taking in all the changes the past five years had brought her. "Come on, let's go to the sitting room and talk," she suggested, taking his elbow and leading him to the door on his left.

For the next hour, mother and son talked...or rather, she talked and asked him questions about his "time away" and he answered in vague generalities or skillfully dodged the inquires. As time passed, more and more of the woman he remembered appeared and the stranger who had stood so stiffly next to that butler faded away. It was...nice.

Until she barged into the room, that is. She was a massive woman, very broad and intimidating as she said, "Moira."

Oliver watched as his mother was replaced with that formal woman in under a second. She sat up rim-rod straight as she shifted her weight slightly in her seat to look at the hulking woman framed in entrance. "Mother," she greeted in a voice that her son recognized as her "putting up with idiots" voice, "how was the service today?"

"You would know if you had attended," the woman replied with ice in her tone that even had Oliver straightening in his seat.

"I had every intention-"

"You know what they say about intentions, my dear." The term of endearment rang false and the room fell silent before the older woman turned her watery blue gaze to him. "And who exactly is your guest?"

Oliver opened his mouth to introduce himself, but his mother cut in before he could utter a sound, "Jonas Quentin," she said breathlessly, "an old friend from Starling City." She turned to face him then, eyes wide and begging him not to disagree, "Jonas, I'd like to introduce you to my mother, Olivia Foxworth."

He stood up and extended his hand politely, "Mrs. Foxworth." She took his proffered hand with a look of calculating suspicion. She shook his hand tightly and he took the opportunity to truly examine his grandmother.

She was a tall, burly woman with hard blue-gray eyes. Her lips were pulled into a tight disapproving frown that forced the pins in her silver hair to hold tighter to her head to keep her hair in place. Even the lines on her face spoke of the anger that this woman lived with. Olivia Foxworth was clearly not a happy person.

How was it that this steely-eyed woman was his maternal grandmother? She seemed to greatly dislike people, given the way that she looked at both him and his mother. How could a mother look at her own child in such a way? Neither of his parents had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many mistakes he made in his youth.

"What brings you to Foxworth Hall, Mr. Quentin?" Once more he opened his mouth to try to answer, she interrupted him before he could respond to her query. "Have you come to congratulate my daughter on her successful first year of marriage?"

Marriage? He turned to face his mother again. She gave him nothing so he turned back to his grandmother, "I was unaware of this news. I've been away for quite some time." He slowly turned away to face his mother once more. "Congratulations on your new marriage, Mrs….?" He let the question trail off to prompt a response from her.

"It's just Ms., Jonas, I've decided to keep my maiden name." She answered in the soft spoken tone she'd acquired since her mother entered the room, "Walter understands my line of thinking."

"Walter? As in Walter Steele?"

"It's complicated, sweetheart." Moira said, taking a single step in his direction.

"Sweetheart?" Olivia echoed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Her tone was steady and yet angry. It set Oliver on edge as he stood firmly between the two older women.

"It's just an expression, Mother," Moira said, moving to stand next to her son, "I've known Jonas since he was a boy. He's like a son to me."

Like a son to me, the words bounced around his head and all the confusion of the day wore on him suddenly. Why was she even here? Why was she lying about his name and his relation to her? What worried him most, however, was the lack of Thea. Where was she? Surely, she should have been home by now; it was growing dark outside and this behemoth of a mansion was on a long winding road. She should be home now, shouldn't she? She was eighteen by now, but still… in addition, their mother had not mentioned her once in all of her conversational babble from earlier. Where was his little sister?

The elder woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the two of them, standing together. He was just waiting for the silence to break. He could feel the shatter coming, but there was nothing to be done about it. "Well," said his grandmother suddenly, making his mother jump a little, "Dinner shall be in a few minutes. I'll have a place set for you, Mr. Quentin." With that declared, she spun on her heel and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her grey taffeta dress flared out behind her a bit, disappearing a second after she left the doorway. He stood there, staring at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning to face his mother once more. It was time for some answers.

"I know you're confused," Moira said and Oliver made an aborted noise of disbelief that had the woman's lips quirking slightly. "Heavens how I missed you, my boy," she whispered, falling back into the seat she'd previously occupied. Oliver retook his seat too, not taking the bait his mother had tried for. His mother took a deep sigh and looked down. "This isn't going to pleasant for you to hear."

"I still need to hear it."

She nodded, pushing her hair back away from her face, "Your father and I, we always expected that we'd live long, happy lives together, grow old, side by side. Why wouldn't we think that? We were happy and in love and people like that, they always lose touch with the real world a bit." A small smile came to her lips then, "Your father and I weren't perfect, no couple is, and we had our problems, but we did love each other."

"I know that already," Oliver interjected, and Moira's attention focused back in on him with a frown before she nodded once more.

"Yes, I suppose that you do," she admitted softly, "I just had to say it. It's been so long since… anyway, when Queen Consolidated began to flourish, your father and I grew opulent. We kept buying and buying just because we could. Robert wanted me to live in the world of the upper-class that I'd grown up knowing. Then there was you and Thea and we wanted the best for both of you so we continued to live in splendor because, as I said, why wouldn't we?" She folded her hands in her lap, "Neither of us ever thought that it could all fall apart."

Oliver reached over and laid his hand upon hers as a tear fell down her cheek. He'd always hated seeing his mother sad and in pain, and now it was all written on her face. He couldn't begin to imagine what these last almost six years of not knowing had been like for her. He hadn't been lying when he said he already knew that his parents had loved each other because he'd seen it growing up. Sure, the final years of their marriage it had been strained, but even then he knew there'd been love there. He couldn't even contemplate how hard it must have been for his mother to lose his father or how difficult she must have found it to give up hope for his return. He knew there was a reason that she hadn't asked why his father wasn't with him when he arrived. Perhaps she figured getting both of them back was too much of a miracle to hope for. If she only knew how little of me has actually returned from that island.

"After you and your father went missing, Oliver, I kind of lost my way. I'm ashamed to admit it. Thankfully, Thea was stronger than I was and she basically raised herself for that first year." Oliver smiled. Of course she did. His Speedy was resourceful. "By the time Walter showed up and pulled me out of my funk, it was already too late. The house of cards Robert and I had built had already started to crumble." She paused to sigh and look down again. "The company was crumbling and all these bills were suddenly coming due, bills that I had thought were already taken care of. It was one thing after another really and I had no options but to come here, to move back in with my parents."

It was the singularity of that final statement that caught Oliver's attention. She had to come here and move back in with her parents. Not they. Yet again, Oliver was left wondering, where was Thea?

So he asked. "Mom...where is Thea in all of this?"

Moira paled then and slipped her hands from under his. She stood and made her way over to the window that looked out on top the massive hilltop front yard. "She had a rough time of it. First, she lost her father and her brother at the same time; then she was being forced to leave the only home she'd ever known. It was rough on her, Oliver."

He didn't respond to this information, not because he didn't believe her, but because he was too busy focusing on the past tense of her statements. His anxiety was high as he waited impatiently for her to finish the story. He refused to speculate on the could-be of it all and forced him to await the truth.

"She didn't want to move. Acted like the thirteen-year-old she was and passive aggressively acting out about it. She kept-" A sharp almost sad laugh escaped her then and she turned half a step to face him, "She kept insisting that if we moved somewhere else you wouldn't be able to find us." Moira shook her head, "Thea was so positive that you were still alive, Oliver, even when everyone else kept saying otherwise. Thea was so certain. It was so odd, too, because it was just you that she insisted was coming back. Not your father, not Sara, just you." She smiled slightly at him just before she turned back to the window as she whispered, "Somehow, she was right."

The past tense got to him then. Thea was so positive, was so certain, was right. "Why do you keep saying 'was?' " Oliver insisted, standing up and making his way over to his mother. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her gaze away from the well-manicured lawn outside. "Where is Thea?" Her blue eyes wouldn't meet his. "Mom, where is Thea?"

She raised her eyes to his slowly, "She's dead, Oliver."

The floor dropped out from under him then. Dead. Dead. His Speedy was dead? "No. No." Oliver insisted, removing his hand from his mother's padded blazer shoulder, taking two shaky steps backwards, "No, that-that can't be right. Mom, it- you have to be wrong."

She left the window then and bridged the gap between them. She grabbed his face in both her hands and forced him to meet her eyes, "It is true, Oliver. I'm sorry but it is." A tear fell down her cheek as he watched. "I'm the one who found her."

"Found her?" He echoed, voice sounding hollow to his own ears.

Moira nodded sadly, "We didn't have enough cash on us to fly across the country so we were forced to drive it. We were staying at a motel in Arkansas and she was still pouting about having to leave the mansion. She just kept going on and on about us needing to be where you could find us. It had been hours of this same speech, Oliver, you have to understand that. Over and over." She sighed, "I just couldn't take it anymore. I told her to give it up, I said that she needed to grow up, that you were dead and you weren't coming back." A little sob broke her voice then. "I didn't know," she whispered, "I didn't know that it was what was propping her up, giving her strength."

"Finish it." Oliver insisted, his tone was a mix of sorrow interlaced with anger. Moira shook her head again, but her son would have none of it. "Finish the story, mother."

"I left to go get us dinner and she was going to take a shower. I didn't see it coming." Moira took a shaky breath and dropped her eyes again, "When I came back, I found her in the bathtub, Oliver, she'd used a pair of manicure scissors and-"

A sob interrupted her then and Oliver was surprised to find that it had come from his own mouth, "Where? Where is she buried, Mom?"

"She isn't." Her hands dropped from his face then to his shoulders, "I knew she'd want to be buried beside you two, but I couldn't. That wasn't our land anymore…and those were just stones anyway so I had her cremated and her ashes scattered on the ocean."

Thea. Thea was dead. Thea who'd always smiled when he walked into the room when she was just a baby. Thea who would come to him for help on her math homework even when she stopped needing it just to spend time with him. Thea who hated swimming just as much as he did even though both their parents insisted on lessons. Thea who'd spent a good proportion of her childhood following him around. His Thea. The bright loving smile that he had seen in his memories that kept him fighting for five hellish years in the hopes of seeing again; that smile had been forever extinguished. His Speedy was dead.

A/N: Future chapters will be posted as soon as I feel comfortable doing so. Please review if you like this or any of my other stories for that matter.