fic: you remade me (and they named me karma)
fic: you remade me (and they named me karma)
fandom: arrow
characters: thea (centric), malcolm, nyssa, and some others mentioned.
summary: she was as her teacher made her. (post S3, the type of thing I want to see happen. warnings for violence and death.)
a/n: written for the multi_genfic bingo’s fill “Chinese box” which apparently means frame narrative which I also had to look up. Hopefully this works as that. And hopefully the mod accepts this because, yeah, I didn’t plan it but it liked doubled in size.
Thea bows before Malcolm, presenting herself with no weapons beyond what he has made her, offering up her skills to him and his new army. They surround her but they do not touch her, do not near her, knowing who she is and what choice she is making.
“Are you sure?” He asks.
She nods her head, knows when and when not to speak to The Demon. Even when he is your father.
They sear an arrow into her back, marking her as theirs, marking her as part of the League, as an assassin.
She does not scream once.
The first thing he teaches her is pain.
It’s not that she hasn’t experienced it, mentally or physically, but he teaches it to her all over again. In new ways. He teaches her to understand the pain. For it to become a part of her. For it to become something more.
The bruises that form become pieces of artwork, the scars a map of where she has been, and the scolding hot water represented everything that could and had hurt her and what she could take.
And it turned out she could take a lot.
She is sent off on her first assignment with men she does not know. She is Heir to the Demon now, had made that choice, and people treat her with respect. That does mean they talk to her.
She is the back up.
Thea is still new and the men respect her, but have yet to learn to depend on her. It will change in time, the more kills she has under her belt, the more missions. But for now they will do the real work and she will sit perched on her ledge, arrow in her hand ready for anything.
It is silent until the screams come and then disappear. And then come again.
A worried gardener hurries towards the house (a gun in his hand revealing he is not a gardener at all) and arrow shoots through his chest. Another and then another. Until he is on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Three arrows straight through his chest.
It seems that was what Thea was best at.
Malcolm teaches her how to hold the bow correctly, how to place the arrow, how to never ready the arrow and aim unless one is sure they want to pull the string back.
He teaches her archery first because he is the Dark Archer. He teaches her because her brother is the Arrow and there’s some twisted part of him (that fills him up completely) that wants her to know how to shoot them too. That wants her to use them against the people she loves.
The swords come after, metal clashing against metal as they strike against one another.
She struggles at first, of course. The weight of the metal, the rhythmic movements she has yet to learn.
But she does.
Malcolm teaches her everything until she can hold a sword at his throat and one at his thigh, a blood thirsty look in her eye.
Thea has always wanted to win. And finally someone was teaching her how.
She spars with Nyssa, the others refraining from anything that might be perceived as a threat to the Heir.
Swords clash against each other and sometimes Thea wonders what the other woman is thinking. If she will punish her for her father’s crimes. If she will punish her for becoming the new heir, for taking her place.
Nyssa never does any of this.
But the cautious look on her face, the studying of Thea’s movements, of her eyes, of her, never goes away.
“It’s a hard road you’ve chosen.” Nyssa says one day.
“What road?”
“Heir to the Demon.”
“Don’t worry, I know what I signed up for.”
She takes the drink from Malcolm with a small smile.
Studies it as she takes in the aroma.
Red wine, he said, it has all kinds of uses.
One was to mask a kill.
She takes the drink from Malcolm, white wine this time, but laced with just the right things, to make her into what he needed her to be.
Malcolm offers a toast to his daughter and Thea smiles as she drinks.
Thea brings him the drinks herself; a small remembrance of their time together, she tells him.
He takes it with a smile, smelling it before drinking.
She smirks at him. “Somethings never change.”
“Calculated risk taking is how I’ve gotten this far in life. It doesn’t mean cautiousness doesn’t help.” He smirks back at her.
There in his chambers, father and daughter, demon and heir, leader and assassin.
“Calculated risks…like me?” She asks, blunt, as forward as always.
“Thea, I made you the Heir to the Demon; that should show you how much I care about you, how much I respect you.”
“You made me into an assassin who isn’t even allowed to hear her own name. There’s a difference.”
“Thea, I…”
His voice is strangled and he tries to push past it, to fight it. It doesn’t work.
“You know I thought three arrows to the chest would be fitting.” Thea says, “But then I realized that would be Sara’s revenge to dole out. Mine…mine was poison. Mine was taking everything from you and watching as you let me. Mine was offering you a glass of poison and watching you drink it.”
“Thea…”
“I am Heir to the Demon,” Thea says, “And when the Demon dies, I get his ring, I get his role, I get his everything.”
She slides the ring off his finger with a smile.
“Thanks, dad, for all those lessons. You really taught me well. I am every bit the assassin you wanted me to be.”
“You can never trust anyone. Not completely.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t trust you?” Thea raises her eyebrow.
“I’m saying you should always question someone’s motives when they do something.” Malcolm says. “If they offer you food and water, you should always question why.”
“What if I’m just hungry?”
“The point is that they don’t have to feed you, they don’t have to offer you anything. So determine why they are.” He says, “You must always stay alert. Even to those closest to you.”
“You mean Oliver?”
“I mean anyone. You are a Queen and a Merlyn both; people will be lining up to prove to you who they are and who you are. You must always be prepared to prove to them yourself who you have forged yourself to be.”
“And what’s that?”
“Steel.” He says, “Unforgiving, strong, and made to be as sharp as a knife.”
She hands Nyssa the ring; she doesn’t want it, had never wanted it. It was not the reason she was here. Not really.
“I give you this,” Thea says, “And I get my freedom and you get your rightful place. No one here ever comes looking for me.”
“How did you get this?”
“The same way Malcolm did. Only I was willing to do the dirty work myself, not use someone else.”
“He is dead.”
“I’m sure there will be an outcry of sadness when his body’s discovered.”
“There will be an outcry for blood.”
“And you will stop it,” Thea says, her voice firm. “Or I’ll keep the ring and as Heir I’ll take his place and you will go back to being nothing but a foot soldier.”
“Why?”
“The whys aren’t your concern; only the position. You can make a difference, be more than just an assassin.”
“And you?”
“I am as my teacher made me.” Thea smiles.
fandom: arrow
characters: thea (centric), malcolm, nyssa, and some others mentioned.
summary: she was as her teacher made her. (post S3, the type of thing I want to see happen. warnings for violence and death.)
a/n: written for the multi_genfic bingo’s fill “Chinese box” which apparently means frame narrative which I also had to look up. Hopefully this works as that. And hopefully the mod accepts this because, yeah, I didn’t plan it but it liked doubled in size.
Thea bows before Malcolm, presenting herself with no weapons beyond what he has made her, offering up her skills to him and his new army. They surround her but they do not touch her, do not near her, knowing who she is and what choice she is making.
“Are you sure?” He asks.
She nods her head, knows when and when not to speak to The Demon. Even when he is your father.
They sear an arrow into her back, marking her as theirs, marking her as part of the League, as an assassin.
She does not scream once.
The first thing he teaches her is pain.
It’s not that she hasn’t experienced it, mentally or physically, but he teaches it to her all over again. In new ways. He teaches her to understand the pain. For it to become a part of her. For it to become something more.
The bruises that form become pieces of artwork, the scars a map of where she has been, and the scolding hot water represented everything that could and had hurt her and what she could take.
And it turned out she could take a lot.
She is sent off on her first assignment with men she does not know. She is Heir to the Demon now, had made that choice, and people treat her with respect. That does mean they talk to her.
She is the back up.
Thea is still new and the men respect her, but have yet to learn to depend on her. It will change in time, the more kills she has under her belt, the more missions. But for now they will do the real work and she will sit perched on her ledge, arrow in her hand ready for anything.
It is silent until the screams come and then disappear. And then come again.
A worried gardener hurries towards the house (a gun in his hand revealing he is not a gardener at all) and arrow shoots through his chest. Another and then another. Until he is on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Three arrows straight through his chest.
It seems that was what Thea was best at.
Malcolm teaches her how to hold the bow correctly, how to place the arrow, how to never ready the arrow and aim unless one is sure they want to pull the string back.
He teaches her archery first because he is the Dark Archer. He teaches her because her brother is the Arrow and there’s some twisted part of him (that fills him up completely) that wants her to know how to shoot them too. That wants her to use them against the people she loves.
The swords come after, metal clashing against metal as they strike against one another.
She struggles at first, of course. The weight of the metal, the rhythmic movements she has yet to learn.
But she does.
Malcolm teaches her everything until she can hold a sword at his throat and one at his thigh, a blood thirsty look in her eye.
Thea has always wanted to win. And finally someone was teaching her how.
She spars with Nyssa, the others refraining from anything that might be perceived as a threat to the Heir.
Swords clash against each other and sometimes Thea wonders what the other woman is thinking. If she will punish her for her father’s crimes. If she will punish her for becoming the new heir, for taking her place.
Nyssa never does any of this.
But the cautious look on her face, the studying of Thea’s movements, of her eyes, of her, never goes away.
“It’s a hard road you’ve chosen.” Nyssa says one day.
“What road?”
“Heir to the Demon.”
“Don’t worry, I know what I signed up for.”
She takes the drink from Malcolm with a small smile.
Studies it as she takes in the aroma.
Red wine, he said, it has all kinds of uses.
One was to mask a kill.
She takes the drink from Malcolm, white wine this time, but laced with just the right things, to make her into what he needed her to be.
Malcolm offers a toast to his daughter and Thea smiles as she drinks.
Thea brings him the drinks herself; a small remembrance of their time together, she tells him.
He takes it with a smile, smelling it before drinking.
She smirks at him. “Somethings never change.”
“Calculated risk taking is how I’ve gotten this far in life. It doesn’t mean cautiousness doesn’t help.” He smirks back at her.
There in his chambers, father and daughter, demon and heir, leader and assassin.
“Calculated risks…like me?” She asks, blunt, as forward as always.
“Thea, I made you the Heir to the Demon; that should show you how much I care about you, how much I respect you.”
“You made me into an assassin who isn’t even allowed to hear her own name. There’s a difference.”
“Thea, I…”
His voice is strangled and he tries to push past it, to fight it. It doesn’t work.
“You know I thought three arrows to the chest would be fitting.” Thea says, “But then I realized that would be Sara’s revenge to dole out. Mine…mine was poison. Mine was taking everything from you and watching as you let me. Mine was offering you a glass of poison and watching you drink it.”
“Thea…”
“I am Heir to the Demon,” Thea says, “And when the Demon dies, I get his ring, I get his role, I get his everything.”
She slides the ring off his finger with a smile.
“Thanks, dad, for all those lessons. You really taught me well. I am every bit the assassin you wanted me to be.”
“You can never trust anyone. Not completely.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t trust you?” Thea raises her eyebrow.
“I’m saying you should always question someone’s motives when they do something.” Malcolm says. “If they offer you food and water, you should always question why.”
“What if I’m just hungry?”
“The point is that they don’t have to feed you, they don’t have to offer you anything. So determine why they are.” He says, “You must always stay alert. Even to those closest to you.”
“You mean Oliver?”
“I mean anyone. You are a Queen and a Merlyn both; people will be lining up to prove to you who they are and who you are. You must always be prepared to prove to them yourself who you have forged yourself to be.”
“And what’s that?”
“Steel.” He says, “Unforgiving, strong, and made to be as sharp as a knife.”
She hands Nyssa the ring; she doesn’t want it, had never wanted it. It was not the reason she was here. Not really.
“I give you this,” Thea says, “And I get my freedom and you get your rightful place. No one here ever comes looking for me.”
“How did you get this?”
“The same way Malcolm did. Only I was willing to do the dirty work myself, not use someone else.”
“He is dead.”
“I’m sure there will be an outcry of sadness when his body’s discovered.”
“There will be an outcry for blood.”
“And you will stop it,” Thea says, her voice firm. “Or I’ll keep the ring and as Heir I’ll take his place and you will go back to being nothing but a foot soldier.”
“Why?”
“The whys aren’t your concern; only the position. You can make a difference, be more than just an assassin.”
“And you?”
“I am as my teacher made me.” Thea smiles.