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Oliver groans as he reluctantly wakes up, shielding his eyes from the bright light. He slowly sits up, opening his eyes inch by inch only to stare in shock at the scenery around him. “This is not Central City…” Oliver clambers to his feet and almost trips over the wooden clogs on his feet. Oliver glances over his clothes and shakes his head, incredulous. “Why do I look like the movie version of-”
“Oh, Snow White, you’re alright!” Caitlin exclaims, running towards Oliver with the other members of Oliver and Barry’s teams.
“Snow! I thought the witch had really gotten you this time!” Felicity says with tears in her eyes as she pats him down.
Cisco nods, “You can’t let strange women into the house, Snow. You know that the Queen wants you dead!”
“What? No, what has gotten into you all?” Oliver looks at them in confusion.
“Yesterday it was the lace on your dress and today a comb in your hair!” John scolds, ignoring Oliver’s protests. “You know the Queen is a sneaky witch!”
“Come,” Joe commands, “we must be getting back to the house. The others must be worried sick.”
“Guys, what’s going on?” Oliver asks as Joe takes a hold of him and drags him towards a small hut in the center of a clearing with tall trees surrounding. All his questions go unanswered and his protests are equally ignored by Thea and Iris as they enter the hut.
Oliver is manhandled through a small dinner and then put straight to bed. Oliver grumbles to himself as he rolls about the bed, his feet hanging over. “I must be trapped in some warped fairy tale world. And everyone seems to think I’m Snow White. How is this my life?” Oliver ponders, mentally starting to calculate his next move. Eventually, he falls asleep and in the morning feels like he has only slept for ten minutes.
Felicity smiles at Oliver, the others waiting for her with mining tools on their shoulders. “Now Snow White, please don’t let anyone into the house but us. We don’t want a repeat of the last two days. Do you understand?”
“This is only for your safety.” Iris adds, “You know the Queen wants you dead.”
Oliver raises a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “You seriously think I’d let myself get poisoned?”
Cisco shrugs, “You never know. The old hag’s poisoned comb was an ingenious trick.”
“Just promise you won’t let anyone in besides us or take anything from people you don’t know. Please.” Thea places a hand on Oliver’s arm, sending him a wide-eyed look.
Oliver snorts, “Sure, I won’t let anyone in or take anything from strange looking people.”
The group beams at him and tramp out the door in single file, shouting out good-byes as they go. “However, I’m not cleaning,” Oliver mutters as soon as they were all out. Instead, he gets to work gathering wood and tools, starting in on making a bow. The same routine happens for a week before one morning when Oliver is outside whittling a hunched over figure approaches him with a basket of apples. “Damn Mirror Master and his tricks. Damn Central City for not having normal villains. Damn me for wanting to help Barry because my boyfriend sounded like an adorable whimpering puppy.” Oliver mutters to himself, stopping when the figure approaches.
“Oh hello dearie, might I offer you an apple?” A smooth hand pokes out of the cloak and Oliver peers suspiciously into the shaded face.
“Might I see who I’m talking to?” Oliver replies tartly. Instead of getting mad, the person shrugs off their cloak hood and Oliver has to fight down a visible reaction when he sees Barry standing in front of him. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Oliver mutters under his breath.
“An apple for the pretty maiden?” Barry holds out a shining red apple, “I just picked it this morning.”
“I’m sure you did.” Oliver says, “But no thanks.”
“Oh, one bite won’t hurt.” Barry cajoles.
Oliver bites back the first thought that pops into his head and instead replies, “Sorry, but the dwarves told me not to accept things from people I don’t know.”
“Here, I’ll eat the white half and you can have the red.” Barry offers, taking a small knife and cutting the fruit in half. Barry takes a large bite of the white half, holding out the red portion enticingly. “Won’t you have some?”
Oliver shakes his head, continuing to whittle away, “Nope.”
For several more minutes, Barry tries to convince Oliver to eat a bite of the apple, being rebuked every time. Finally frustrated, Barry switches to attempting to force Oliver to eat it and failing every attempt despite the sudden appearance of inhuman strength. “Why won’t you eat the damn apple?” A voice that was not Barry’s screeches out of his mouth.
“Really?” Oliver asks, “How stupid do you think I am? I have seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarves you know. If I eat that apple I’m as good as dead.” Oliver wrenches the apples from Barry’s slack hands and pitches it into the forest. “Can I please go home now, Mirror Master?”
Mirror Master once again uses Barry’s voice to share his frustration and before Oliver can react, Barry hits Oliver over the head and the world turns black. Oliver wakes up in the world of Rapunzel before he frustrates Mirror Master enough by not playing along, forcing him to send Oliver to the next Grimm Fairy Tale. The pattern continues through several more stories.
“You know,” Oliver tells the mirrored tree conversationally, “I’m really glad that my father read me all those stories when I was a kid.”
“Who the hell reads their child the original fairy tales?” The tree asks, incredulous.
Oliver shrugs, “I think I might have insisted on the original versions once some older kid at school told me that the stories we were being told were only watered down versions.” Oliver spares a moment to grin, shark-like, at the tree.
“I am so glad that the Flash is the usual do-gooder messing with my plans.” The tree grumbles, “You’re no fun at all.”
Oliver snorts in reply, “Like you’re any cakewalk.”
“Why you little-!” The tree suddenly sprouts an arm that reaches out and thumps Oliver over the head, causing him to slump over unconscious. “I’ll make you break, Arrow, you mark my words!”
When Oliver wakes again, he groans at the sight of a fireplace in a rustic kitchen. “Why can’t he be bored of this already? Seriously, fuck the villains of Central City. I am never helping Barry again, I don’t care how cute his pouting is.” Oliver stands up and takes a look around the room, “Oh don’t kid yourself, Queen, you’ll cave when he bats his eyes at you because you’re weak.” Oliver slumps against the countertop, rubbing a hand through his cropped hair in frustration.
“Oh, Cinderella!” A voice, which Oliver quickly identified as his sister’s, calls from out of the room.
“Cinderella! You little wretch , come hither!” Iris screeches.
Oliver scowls as he pushes off the counter and answers the summons, “However, I am going to kill Mirror Master when I get out of this.”
The mirror in the entrance he passes chuckles, “If you get out of this you mean.” Mirror Master responds before going silent once more. Oliver growls and does his best to ignore the mirror.
“Cinder ella !” Felicity’s voice reaches a high pitch he had never heard before.
Oliver finally comes to a halt in front of the three women, scowl firmly in place. “Yes?” He asks shortly.
“You want to go to the festival, you say?” Iris asks, a cruel smile on her face. Oliver sighs, knowing the answer he is supposed to give but unwilling to respond. “Well?” Iris demands, growing impatient, “Do you wish to attend the king’s festival?”
“Yes, madam, I would like to go to the festival.” Oliver rolls his eyes and folds his arms.
“There’s a dish of lentils emptied into the fireplace,” Iris explains, her smile growing meaner, “If you wish to attend the festival you will have it all picked up in two hours.”
“Hurry along.” Thea mocks, making shooing motions.
Felicity laughs, her voice high and cruel, “Yes, scurry along little rat.”
Oliver shakes his head, but complies with the request and returns to the kitchen. “This is the strangest and most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to do to capture a villain.” Oliver stares at the fireplace full of lentils for several long minutes, “I’m not singing to summon animals to do the work for me.” Oliver informs the mirror above the fireplace.
“Oh for Chrissake.” The mirror angrily replies, “Do I have to do everything myself?” Several birds suddenly appear and begin picking up the lentils, placing them into a bowl. Oliver sighs, finding a piece of wood and starting to whittle while the animals did the work. Within an hour they were all picked up and Iris appears just as the last bird flies out of the window. Felicity and Thea loom in the doorway behind Iris, the large dresses hindering their movements.
Iris sniffs snootily before dumping two bowls of lentils into the ashes, “If thou canst pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes in an hour you may attend the festival.” Iris storms out of the kitchen, leaving Oliver alone once more.
Oliver stares at the mirror and tells it once again, “I’m not singing to summon animals to do the work for me.”
“I should just kill you now.” The mirror angrily hisses.
Oliver shrugs, “You could, but will you? You’ve kept me alive this long.”
“Oh, I am very tempted to kill you. You’re absolutely no fun at all! I’m starting to run out of ideas.”
“You have not sent me through all the fairy tales.” Oliver raises a judgmental eyebrow.
The mirror sighs, “Yeah, but I’m running out of all the cool ones.”
“Cinder ella ! No talking!” Iris screams as she passes by the doorway, not bothering to stop and check on his progress. Thea and Felicity flounce past a second later, their large bustles bouncing.
The mirror sighs again before falling quiet as a flock of birds enter the kitchen and start picking up the lentils. Oliver props his feet up and continues to whittle away at the hunk of wood. Within an hour the lentils are in the bowl and the birds fly out of the kitchen. Oliver whittles for several more minutes before he finally throws it down, picks up the lentils and leaves the room to find Iris.
“Oh madam,” Oliver calls, entering into a sitting room where Felicity and Thea are applying layer after layer of thick makeup. “I have all your lentils for you.” Oliver passes the bowl to an outraged Iris.
“Well, I never!” Iris tears it from Oliver’s hand and storms to the kitchen, the other two women close on her heels and Oliver following at a much more leisurely pace. Iris slams the bowl on lentils down on the countertop, “You’re not going to the festival anyways! You have nothing to wear.”
Oliver rolls his eyes, “I figured as much.”
Iris ignores Oliver’s comment, “Now, I know you’re horribly upset, but you must know that this is for your own good. We wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself in front of the king and his son! Right girls?” Felicity and Thea titter their agreement, “Now, you’ll stay here at home and be there to welcome us when we return.”
Oliver scoffs and sarcastically replies, “Yes, madam.”
“Now girls, we must get going or we’ll be late.” Iris spins on her heels and gently guides the two women out of the room by their elbows.
Only seconds after they’ve left Cisco appears before Oliver, decked out in a large and fluffy pink dress that glittered. “I suppose you’re my fairy godmother?”
“I am your fairy godmother!” Cisco dramatically tells Oliver, as if the other man hadn’t spoken. Cisco sweeps his wand around the room, the gold star at the top glinting in the firelight. “I am here to grant you your wish of attending the festival!”
“Can you send me home instead?”
“I shall dress you in only the finest of silks and place on your feet shoes of purest glass!” Cisco continues, completely ignoring Oliver’s question. “I shall send you to the festival on a fine steed that shines like freshly fallen snow! I shall make your hair gleam and your eyes glitter like dewdrops!”
Oliver shakes his head in disbelief, “Who comes up with these lines? This is so not how the original Grimm tale went.” Oliver glares at the mirror, “What are you up to?” The mirror snickers but doesn’t reply.
Cicso waves his wand over Oliver and he stares in disbelief as his ragged clothes turn into a large, fluffy, and frilly blue dress complete with a crinoline skirt and several layers of silken material. Oliver lifts up the gown and finds to his utter horror a pair of glass slippers on his feet. He then touches his head and cringes at the feeling of the barbed points of a tiara and hair that had magically grown a little longer, suddenly touching his shoulders and reminding him of Thea’s hairstyle.
“You have got to be kidding,” Oliver mutters to himself as Cisco leads Oliver out into the yard where he proceeds to wave his wand about and turn a mouse into a horse. “You have one sick mind, Mirror Master.” Cisco helps Oliver onto the horse and then sending it off with a slap to its rear. Oliver clings to the horse for dear life, only finding his balance a moment or two before the horse canters to a stop at the edge of a festival where a servant helps Oliver climb off the horse. “This isn’t a festival. This is basically an outdoor ball! Now where the hell is the prince so I can get this humiliation over with?”
A person next to him clears their throat and he has to hide his laughter when he notices Diggle standing next to him decked out in servant livery. “May I escort the madam to the prince? He noticed your entrance and simply must meet you.” Diggle asks in a posh British accent.
This time Oliver does laugh, “Sure, take me away!” Diggle takes Oliver’s elbow and leads them through the throngs of people, though it was hardly needed as everyone parts for Oliver to pass, some even bowing. When Barry comes into view, Oliver sighs in relief. Instead of allowing Barry to bow and give proper greetings, Oliver pulls him into a kiss which Barry enthusiastically returns after a few seconds.
Oliver hears Mirror Master screech in anger before the world explodes into millions of colors. When the world settles once more, both Oliver and Barry’s teams are sprawled on the floor of the Cortex, groaning and slowly getting up.
“Please tell me that did not just happen to us,” Cisco moans.
Oliver snorts, already standing and recovered, “I am not talking about this,” Oliver glares at the group, “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen at all,”
Barry grins, “Please as if I’d forget the sight of you in a dress.” Oliver glares at his boyfriend before snatching up his bow and stalking out of the room. Barry runs after him laughingly calling, “But you’re the Cinderella to my Prince Charming!”
“Yeah, let’s never talk about this,” Joe says to the room at large. Everyone agrees in embarrassment.