It turned out that even putting on a show wasn't easy. Thea played the part of the good daughter for three days, constantly pondering the inscription on the necklace. However, her impassive expression led to wild interpretations by the media. After three days, she found herself buried under an avalanche of negative press.
Headlines screamed things like, "Queen Heiress Overly Arrogant, Her Elementary School Classmate Reveals Her Past."
And, "Thea Queen Lingers in Bars, Drinking All Night."
There was a deluge of similar reports. Moira comforted her, telling her not to take it to heart, explaining it was just a tactic employed by their political opponents.
Thea understood she was being set up as a target. Who doesn't get talked about behind their back? The media was like that. Let them talk; it wouldn't hurt her physically. Compared to Bruce Wayne, who bled for Gotham by night only to be vilified by day, her situation seemed mild.
But while mother and daughter were unfazed, some enthusiastic young members of the campaign team were quite concerned about these attacks on her reputation. One day, they nominated a particularly articulate, ambitious young professional to try and persuade Miss Queen.
"Miss Queen, um..." Despite rehearsing his lines ten times, the young man couldn't help but feel nervous facing Thea.
Having personally organized two and participated in one major violent clash in Gotham was no small matter. Hundreds had died directly because of her actions, with thousands more injured or maimed, affecting countless families and their futures.
Currently, Thea projected an aura that leaned towards cold, ethereal beauty. Combined with the deep transformation from her bloodline, she radiated a subtle sense of pressure.
She was mentally calculating the seventh inscription on the necklace. This particular symbol seemed transitional; deciphering it would greatly aid in understanding the ones that followed.
Interrupted by the young man, she wasn't exactly angry, but certainly a bit frustrated. She glanced at him with sharp eyes, not speaking, silently urging him to state his business or leave quickly.
The young man nearly collapsed under her gaze. Was that even a human look? It was terrifying! But remembering his mission, the culmination of years of study aimed at achieving success, he managed to stammer out, "The campaign team... we hope... hope you could appear more approachable, not look so cold."
Having said his piece, he didn't wait for Thea's response. Forcing a smile, he scurried away.
Relieved he wasn't trying to hit on her, Thea relaxed the fist she had instinctively clenched.
Ever since her bloodline awakening and being pushed into the public eye by Moira, she had been inundated with flowers and men using flimsy excuses to strike up conversations. It was incredibly annoying. She could deal with Gotham's criminals with assault rifles, but using force against these pests was inappropriate.
She decided to endure it for a few more days. Once Moira finished this round of city-wide speeches, she could take a break.
As for the young man's comment about her "cold face," she couldn't help it. Her entire focus was immersed in studying the inscription. Although current science couldn't analyze it, Thea considered it a form of science nonetheless. Expecting her to research and laugh heartily at the same time was simply impossible.
These young people in the campaign office were taking things too seriously. It was all just part of the process; the outcome was largely predetermined by those higher up.
How many city council members did Malcolm control? How many did Moira? The Court of Owls, though claiming to stay within Gotham, could certainly influence some. Adding A.R.G.U.S.'s involvement, approval was practically guaranteed. How could she possibly lose the election?
The voters' opinions were just that – opinions. Once the election results were announced, whoever was declared the winner, was the winner. Such blatant manipulation happened every day in reality.
Shaking her head, she pushed the distracting thoughts away and refocused on her research.
"Thea, you can take the car back yourself. I have a dinner party to attend later," Moira said as the day wound down. Knowing Thea disliked social events, she gave her the evening off.
Thea equally disliked the idea of dining with smug, self-important, successful men – a bunch of parasites, she thought. She was thrilled not to have to endure it and gave her mother a happy hug.
She declined the offer of bodyguards. They looked imposing, but she could take on ten of them barehanded. Armed and using her powers, any number of them would be useless.
Before getting into the car, she scanned the area, checking underneath the vehicle. Seeing it was clear, she started the engine and drove off.
She had reason to be cautious, not because of assassins or sabotage.
It was the tabloid reporters; they were utterly shameless. Two days ago, arriving at an event, Thea was about to step out of her car when she saw a man in black suddenly slide underneath it.
Initially, she thought it was an insurance scam attempt. But upon questioning, he turned out to be a paparazzo from some gossip magazine. His life-risking maneuver wasn't an assassination attempt; he was trying to snap invasive photos up her skirt as she exited the vehicle.
Thea had turned pale with fury upon learning the truth. Killing him wasn't appropriate, so she had to settle for roughing him up a bit and giving him a stern warning.
Against these tiny tabloids, often run by just a couple of employees, even Malcolm's influence or the Court of Owls' Talons were ineffective. The man clearly didn't fear consequences; he put his life on the line for sales. Faced with such recklessness, Thea felt somewhat helpless and could only be extra careful.
Driving alone through the streets of Star City, she couldn't immediately think of anyone to visit.
Felicity was out of town, visiting her mother for Hanukkah.
Thea realized she truly had few friends in Star City. Sigh. Maybe she'd go chat with her future sister-in-law, Laurel.
Laurel was happy to see Thea. After quickly tidying up, the two women went out for dinner nearby.
Although not bosom buddies, they had known each other since childhood and were very familiar. After a few pleasantries, they quickly fell into sharing their recent troubles.
Thea talked about her frustrations – the parts she could share, anyway. Describing her violent clashes in Gotham would likely horrify Laurel.
When the conversation turned to Laurel, Thea learned that the past two months hadn't been easy for her either.
Thanks to the numerous jobs Moira had created, the crime rate in the Glades had seen a rare period of calm. Several potential troublemakers had been quietly encouraged or transferred to other cities.
With no one stirring up trouble and people busy with new jobs, a positive cycle had begun. Consequently, Laurel's legal aid office had seen a drastic drop in clients. While objectively good news for someone with her strong sense of justice, the office itself was visibly declining.
Three of the original eight partners had already left. The remaining few were looking for other opportunities. The daily operating costs, once shared by eight, now fell heavily on the remaining partners, nearly exhausting Laurel's meager savings.
To make matters worse, Tommy, usually generous, had been distant and elusive lately. Laurel sometimes worried he might have found someone else.