Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It happened when he was young. Oliver Queen was barely twenty-two. The entire world was his oyster. He had unlimited funds thanks to his inheritance, he had control of a large technology company, he was handsome and knew it, and constantly had women falling at his feet. He used these women like people use tissues. He got what he wanted out of them and then disposed them. He was not a nice person.

Oliver Queen considered himself to be a prince. The prince of Starling City, but his reign was coming to an end.

"Laurel, c'mon," he said, walking towards her, "It was one time."

The brunette turned and glared at him. "Cheating and lying?"

Oliver couldn't even stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could see that she was angry and he knew he had done wrong by her, but he didn't care. He probably shouldn't have agreed to see her again after their first time together. He knew he wasn't a one-woman guy and he never had been. Probably never would be.

It started with sleeping with her roommate, then her sister, and it continued on with various women. So, yeah he was lying straight to her face, but what was she going to do about it?

"The way you treat women is deplorable," she spat.

"Then why don't you leave?"

Laurel stepped closer to him. "If you think that you are going to get away with this you are dead wrong, Oliver Queen."

Oliver crossed his arms in front of his chest; he wasn't afraid of her. He watched her face contort as her anger grew. He was pretty sure he had never seen a person so angry before. He was determined not to crumble, though.

"You think you can do whatever you wish because you're good looking," she said, "Well, not anymore."

Laurel's eyes began to change. All color left until they were stark white. She raised her hands. Her fingertips seemed to spark as she did. Oliver took a step back suddenly feeling uneasy.

"What the hell…" he barely got the words out when something shot from her fingertips and hit him square in the chest.

For a moment it seemed as if nothing was going to happen, but soon his skin started to burn. He fell to his knees as he shouted in pain.

"Stop!"

Along with the burning came sharp needle point pricks inside and out.

"Now, your outside with match your ugly insides," Laurel said lowering her hands.

Oliver panted. The painful sensations began to ebb away, but as he stood he realized that something was wrong.

"You are destined to spend the rest of your days alone," she continued, "No one will want to look at you anymore."

Oliver turned his head towards the mirror that hung in the entry way of the manor. His body was hunched over and he was unable to stand straight. His face was covered in scars. He looked as if a beast had dragged its claws across his face.

"No," he whispered.

He lifted his shirt just slightly to see the same scarring on his body.

"You witch," he breathed out.

"Why yes actually," she smiled.

Laurel started to walk away, but before she exited the building she turned towards him once more. "Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe someone can look past what's on the outside, but considering what's on the inside… I doubt it. Unless you do find someone then you will be stuck like this until the day you die."

She walked out and slammed the door.

Oliver swung his fist into the mirror. He couldn't look at himself. He looked like a monster. He was a monster and he was going to be one for the rest of his life. He spent the next five years in a secluded hell. He refused to leave his home and refused to let anyone see his face. He couldn't bring himself to believe that there was any hope for him for who could ever love a beast?