You didn't start the fire, but you took advantage of its distraction happily. Everyone in the camp either ran to the bright flames, or to the nursery to protect the children. That's where you were supposed to go, where he told you to run to, and you started to make your way there. You did. But you saw it then, the gate to the road was open, left ajar from when the truck carrying water from the river had come in.

You weren't brave, or strong. Not anymore. But you were desperate. 

You ran. Freedom greeted you on the other side of the gate, and you smiled for the first time in a decade.

A year later

The knock at your apartment door takes you by surprise, a curse falls from your lips when your lipstick smears, and you wipe it away hastily as you go to the peephole and peer through. You do that every time, checking who is there, even if you know full well who it probably is. Like now.

Maekar stands there, all in black as usual, his hands in his pockets, before he brings one out so he can look at his watch. You smile to yourself as you hear his muttered complaint,

“I love waiting in the hallway like a stalker,”

A chuckle bursts out of you, and you quickly disengage the locks, and open the door to your neighbour, apologising quickly,

“Just give me a few minutes? You're earlier than usual,”

He eyes the stain on your face, and shrugs, “No bother, I'm going to answer an email quickly, take your time,”

It had taken you six months to trust Maekar enough to let through your door. He was a good neighbour, when you first moved in - scared and unwilling to talk to any of your neighbours - he had politely left you alone, but also firmly helped you carry groceries or packages up the stairs to where you lived. He never tried to come in, or even talk to you, but he made it clear he would be there for you if you needed him.

A month ago was when you'd first invited him into your space, desperately knocking on his door and begging him to get the large spider out of your apartment which he'd graciously done, no complaints. Once the creature was carefully placed out of the window, Maekar had stood in front of you, a glower on his face that almost made you tremble in fear… and then he'd laughed,

“Such trouble for a fucking spider!” 

You couldn’t help it, now the danger had passed, you realised he was alone with you in your space, and your eyes went immediately to the floor and wouldn't lift. He was going to ask for payment, and you would have to give it-

“Mice?”

“What?” You lifted your eyes then, “Mice?”

Maekar shrugged, “I'm afraid of mice. If one appears at home, I'll call you over and you can deal with it. Fair’s fair, yes?”

“I… you don’t want anything else?” You force the hesitation out of your voice, making yourself look into his eyes. They were purple. You'd never noticed before. Maekar frowns at you,

“Anything else? Like what? It's a fucking spider,” he puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “let me know if you need me again. Good night,”

And he had left without a backwards glance.

It had a been a tentative thing then, allowing him further into your life and space, but Maekar was proving more trustworthy and gentle than you would've predicted. Men were neither trustworthy or gentle in your experience. Now though, you liked to invite Maekar in for coffee in the mornings, and he walked you to work. 

He said it was to keep you company, but you were starting to hope it was more.

“Ready?” Maekar asked when you came out of the bathroom, lipstick now where it should be and no longer smeared on your cheek. Your smile is small, but you nod. 

The silence between you and Maekar is comfortable, he doesn't seem to need to fill silences, and you never know exactly what to say anyway. You want to tell him everything about you, to explain why you are the way you are, but you also never want to speak about your experiences again. To speak his name out loud feels like it would summon him.

The last thing you ever wanted was to have that man's presence back in your life.

When you arrive at the building where you worked, you thank Maekar quietly, but instead of nodding and leaving to go to his own work as he usually would, Maekar stands in front of you, a determined look on his face. You frown, open your mouth to ask what's wrong, when he speaks, 

“I would like to take you on a date on Friday night, to the new Dornish restaurant that's opened two blocks away,” he holds a hand up to stop you interrupting, even though you were too shocked to speak, “I like you, and I think you like me, and I can tell that there's things you don't want to talk about so I make an oath right now to not ask you to tell me. You can do, if you want, but I won't make you.  And if you say no to the date, I will still be your friend,” he smiles a genuine smile then, and your shoulders relax slightly,

“I just wanted to be blunt. I'm not getting any younger,”

That makes you laugh, “Well, neither am I, I suppose,” you pause, “so a… date?”

“Only if you say you want it to be, otherwise it shall be just two neighbours enjoying Dornish food,” he shrugs, “I really like Dornish food,”

Maekar was right. There was a lot you were hiding from him, that you didn't want to talk about. There was a shadow looming over you, his presence tall and suffocating like a tower on a crowded street. You clench your fists, anger blooming like fire suddenly. 

It had been a year since you'd granted your own freedom, and never set eyes on him again. It was time you let yourself live your life again, after all, like Maekar had said, neither of you were getting any younger. You mentally shake yourself, and then smile at Maekar,

“I'd love to go on a date with you.”

He leans forward like he would kiss you, but pulls himself back quickly, instead awkwardly waving and promising to meet you for lunch as usual. Your step is light, and your smile broad as you go into the building, you're blind to everyone else around you. You're finally living life again and it felt incredible. 

You fret over what to wear, his words filling your ears, the rules you had lived with for ten years almost crippling you as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. The relationship you'd fled from hadn't started out badly, they never do, but it had been too late by the time you'd realised the predicament you were in.

You force yourself to say his name out loud. Ormund. The man from your nightmares. He had been the man of your dreams when you'd first met him. He had been handsome, charming, well dressed and attentive to you. He spoiled you, took care of you, and when you'd finally fallen into bed with him, he'd ruined you in the most thorough way you'd ever experienced. 

You had been lonely all your life, though there was no real reason for it. You tried to make friends, but the friendships never became more than surface level. You'd had lovers, but they left you before it could get serious. Your work was fine, but it was work, no one would've missed you if you left suddenly. You had no family, you were alone, living your simple life when you'd bumped into Ormund at the grocery store.

He was a master at manipulation and control, but there was very little to manipulate or control with you. You had no one for him to isolate you from, but he had many friends of his own who all seemed to love him. His family liked you a lot, they encouraged you to spend more and more time with Ormund on their compound which they called Oldtown. 

Soon, you'd left your job to work there with him, it paid better, and you were surrounded by people who seemed to love having you around and appreciated your efforts. When Ormund asked you to be his wife, you thought your life couldn't get any better.

The wedding was simple and beautiful, the wedding night was sublime. If only it had lasted.

You should have known, but how could you? You'd wanted so desperately to be loved, you hadn't seen the danger in giving up everything that was yours to him. Soon Ormund was telling you how to dress, who to talk to, he stopped you working, and all the money you had saved went into an account he controlled.

You shake yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, and deliberately put on the black and red dress that you'd bought in a fit of excited defiance this afternoon. It was something that would've earned you the paddle back in Oldtown if you'd dared try to wear it in public. 

Maekar wouldn't hurt you like that though, and he dressed so impeccably all the time, you had to look nice for him…

Sure enough, when you disengage the inner locks and open the door, your mouth drops open. Maekar looks spectacular, his silver hair contrasting beautifully with the black suit he wore, and his purple eyes shone with appreciation as they looked you up and down,

“You look… very beautiful,” he swallowed thickly, and a surge of confidence went through you enough for you to smile openly,

“Thank you, Maekar. You look incredibly handsome yourself,”

“Oh fuck off, I'm not handsome, but- ah… thank you,” he held out his hand which you took, “I'm sorry, I never usually get compliments, I don't take them very well,”

“Well, you do look very nice,” you shrug, pulling the door closed after you and walking down the hallway, “I'm looking forward to the food,”

“Me too. My ex-wife was Dornish, she got me hooked on the stuff,”

“Your ex wife?” You're stumble over the words, your steps faltering, but Maekar doesn't appear to notice, 

“Yes. Divorced a couple of years now. A good woman, we just wanted different things in the end, but we share custody of the kids,” he shrugs, “what about you? Any exes I need to know about?”

Your heart pounds, the wedding band that is hidden under a floorboard a physical curse that you have to ignore. You smile up at Maekar,

“No exes. So, tell me about your children,”

You asked for no desert without thinking at the end of the meal, a meal where you'd eaten as little as possible because you hadn’t eaten with a man in a year, and the last time you had Ormund had controlled everything on your plate. At your new sanctuary with your new freedom, you'd allowed yourself treats and larger portions, but the habit kicked in immediately as soon as you'd sat down with Maekar. 

He didn't say anything, but as soon as the desert was placed in front of him, he'd scooped up a piece, then taken your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, and gently pulled you towards him over the table,

“Open your mouth, and eat,”

You did. You held his gaze as he fed you from his spoon, and when you licked your lips absentmindedly, you watched as Maekar’s pupils dilated and his eyes dropped to your mouth. For the first time in over a year, you felt arousal course through you like wildfire. Maekar meets your eyes,

“I'm getting the fucking cheque,”

He holds your hand in his as you walk back to your building, his thumb running gently over your inner wrist. Shivers roll over you, nerves, need, a desperate desire, fear, all of it making your head swim. You knew you wanted Maekar, in a way you hadn't wanted a man in a long time. You had wanted Ormund too, that was the problem, he had seduced you, tricked you, lured you in with the expertise of his body, and then trapped you.

Ormund had never forced himself on you, not in the violent way most people would think, anyway, but once you were married and you couldn't escape, sex with him became an expectation that you couldn't avoid. When you had tried, Ormund would punish you, so you stopped trying. You let him do as he would and tried to glean as much pleasure as you could from the act.

What would happen if you decided you didn't want to bring Maekar to your bed tonight? Would he be angry? Would he vow to never see you again?

You entered the building behind Maekar, eyes to the floor when he led you into the elevator. He didn't let you hide though, when the doors slid closed, he once again held your chin and got you to look at him,

“I'm very glad you agreed to a date with me tonight. I had a wonderful time,”

You huff a laugh, your eyes dropping after a moment, “So did I… I just don't know…”

“I'll walk you to your door, and we can organise another date then?”

Again, Maekar proved that he was more than willing to let you move at your own pace, and you almost felt like crying. To be considered in this way, like your feelings mattered-

“I want another date with you, Maekar. I'm sorry, I'm-”

“I'm nervous too. I've only ever been with my ex wife. This is also new territory and not one I want to rush into,”

He sounded so firm, so sure, that your shoulders dropped and you relaxed immediately. Of course, his assurances made your arousal start up again, but you ignore it and let it simmer. You could do this, let your trust build, let Maekar set his own pace. It was better that way.

He continues to hold your hand as you both walk towards your door, you're almost sinking into the feeling of safety he brings you - a feeling you hadn't felt in years - when Maekar stops dead, and you follow suit. You look at him, confused at the look of confusion on his face when you then notice it. Your front door is ajar.

“Did you forget to close your door?” Maekar sounds uncertain over the pounding of your heart. You let go of his hand, automatically going to your door, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You think back desperately,

“I think so?” You remember leaving with him. Surely you would've closed it? It was second nature. Maekar pulls you gently back behind him,

“Let me check inside. Stay here until I say you can come in,”

He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving you hovering in the hallway, your fingers trembling as you pull your phone out of your purse, ready to call the emergency services if Maekar uttered even a small sound of distress-

“It's empty,” Maekar pulls the door open, “you need to see if anything has been stolen,” you take his hand as you go inside, and you cast a careful eye over everything in the small apartment. You don't even feel embarrassed when Maekar comes into your bedroom, and then your bathroom behind you. You were too busy fretting that your sanctuary had been violated by some unknown stranger, but the longer you were in there, the less certain you could be.

Did you forget to close your front door in your excitement? Did you leave your knicknacks like that earlier after you'd dusted? Did you forget to put those clean clothes away, or had they already been there when you were trying on dresses?

After fifteen minutes of careful looking around, you stand with Maekar in your living room, in front of your television that you loved. You bite your bottom lip, carefully rearranging one of the stuffed animals that adorn your space. You secretly called them your friends, the creatures that watched the trash movies and tv that you hadn't been granted access to in a decade. You take another look around, and shrug, tears pricking your eyes,

“Nothing is missing. I must have just… I forgot to close the door. Very stupid, I know,”

You look up from the carpet when you hear Maekar chuckle, “I suppose I am rather attractive and distracting,”

“Very,” you squeeze Maekar’s hand, “I'm sorry for making you worry, but everything is fine,”

“Are you sure?” Another gentle grip of your chin to make you meet his eyes, which you pull away from. As much as you felt he didn't mean anything controlling by it, you wouldn't let Maekar just help himself to your attention whenever he could. You do continue to hold his gaze however, and he drops his hand on a mumbled apology,

“Yes I'm sure, I promise,”

“In that case, I'll leave you to the remainder of your evening.”

You follow him to the front door, taking his hand as he is about to leave, “Thank you for a lovely date, Maekar,”

“You're welcome,” he holds your gaze for a moment, then leans forward and kisses you, almost like he doesn't want to wait in case he changes his mind. His hands are warm as they cradle your face, like you're made of glass, like you're precious. The moment doesn't last long enough, you chase his mouth when he pulls away, your eyes opening as you whine briefly. Maekar chuckles to himself,

“Still got it,”

“You can stay,” you blurt suddenly, “you can stay. Tonight. With me. If you want to… you can stay,”

Maekar shakes his head after a moment's pause, “I would love to, but I won't. I see too many nerves in your eyes tonight,” he leans forwards, his lips brushing the shell of your ear making you shiver, “I want you needy and desperate for me, the same way I will be for you… sleep well,”

And with that, he took your hand, and placed a kiss on your knuckles before he opened your door and left. 

Flowers wait for you the following day at work, golden yellow blooms surrounded by deep green foliage. When you open the card, it just says ‘soon’, and you smile, your face heating as your co-workers ask you about the beautiful flowers and who sent them. Your morning is spent giving details about Maekar, and daydreaming about what was to come. 

It meant a lot that he was happy to take it slowly with you, for all you were well past the age of needing your hand held through dating etiquette, it also had been a very long time. You still thought of all the mistakes you made with Ormund constantly, how you should have realised sooner what he was doing to you, how easily he'd isolated you and kept you from anyone that might have been able to help. You'd only had one date with Maekar and you were already analysing every single syllable that he'd spoken, every slight movement he made.

The flowers were beautiful, but what if they meant more than you were ready for?

You pull out your phone, and text Maekar before you can stop yourself,

Thank you for the flowers, you shouldn't have.

Ormund had once sent you flowers, and when you'd sent a similar message to him, he'd bombarded you with more flowers, sweets, trinkets. You'd enjoyed being spoiled then, but you would see a tactic like that for what it was now, you were certain of it. Maekar responds about twenty minutes later, and you feel the blood drain from your face as you read the words,

I haven't sent you flowers?

They were from Ormund. There was no other explanation. Heart pounding painfully against your ribcage, breathing harshly like you'd run a mile, you beg your manager's leave and say you're too sick to stay, and go before they can stop you.

Every person you pass resembles the husband you don't want to acknowledge, wearing a cold knowing smirk. Every stranger's casual pass on the street sent you jumping into the air, curses spilling from your lips. No one was safe to you, they all could be his spies-

Your phone rings, and you squeak in alarm before you pull yourself together enough to look at the screen and see it's Maekar. You should ignore the call, you need to run, and he can no longer be a part of your life, but you're weak. You want to hear his voice one last time,

“Maekar, I-”

“You didn't answer my message, I was worried, are you well?”

You stop in the street, ducking into the doorway of a closed down restaurant to answer, “N-no. I'm sorry for the confusion, it's just-”

“Who sent you those flowers?” His voice went hard, “Where are you?”

“I'm- I need to go home-” you cut yourself off, “the flowers are from my- an ex. I just want to get home,” you don't say that you've hidden money at your home, and you need it to start over again. It's foolish, you know that. If Ormund knew where you worked, there was a good chance he knew where you lived.

But there was also a chance that he didn't know. You couldn’t take the risk of leaving without your coin, there would be no trace of where you went that way.

“Your ex?” Maekar sounded an ill fitting combination of angry and bemused, “You never told me-”

“I didn't have to tell you anything, Maekar!” You interrupt him, ignoring the stab in your heart for what you would say next, “We're not a couple, and we never will be. This isn't what I want… you're not what I want,” you close your eyes as you hear a pained gasp, “goodbye,”

You hang up before he can say anything else to you, and resume your journey back to your apartment. 

You push your way into your apartment, taking a moment to stand in the doorway. Nothing seems out of place, everything feels still and quiet… you go to your hidey spot immediately, lifting the floorboard easily and pulling out the box that held all the money you'd hidden and saved. You also pull out your wedding band, vowing to sell it when you can this time. 

It only takes a minute to pack essentials, and you head to the door, leaving a wistful look at your ‘friends’, knowing you can't take them with you, you'd have to start your collection again… you frown as you stare at them.

You hadn't noticed last night, but one of your stuffed animals was out of place, and you knew that because it always stood at the back as it was so tall. It now stood closer to the front, blocking out some of the smaller animals. You should be running, you should be halfway back to the ground floor after getting in the elevator. A taxi to the closest station to bring you to the North would be your next step. But instead, you walk to your stuffed animal, and take him down. Stomach sinking as you realise it's heavier than it should be.

The camera isn't that big, it's probably why you didn't notice the lens pointing at your apartment through a hole that was ripped into the belly of the bear that housed it. You take it out, staring at the cursed thing, and then throw it to the floor and stamp on it. It only takes one time to shatter it to pieces, but your breath comes out in ragged bursts, your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl, and you hiss,

“Fuck you!”

Standing, you rush to the front door, hoping that Ormund had seen that, that he was as angry as you were, that his impotent anger would give rise to a heart attack and he would die so you would never have to see or think about him again-

You freeze as you pull open your door. Ormund is on the other side, a terrible smirk on his face,

“Hello, wife,”

A brief look of surprise crosses his face when you go to bolt past him and into the hallway where you would yell and shout and scream, but he's faster than you. Ormund grabs you on a grunt of effort, his hand covers your mouth immediately, cutting off the noise you wanted to make, and dragging you back into your apartment. You stumble into the living room when he pushes you away from him, staring helplessly as he takes a key from an inner pocket in his jacket and locks the door. Ormund takes his time, carefully putting the key back, zipping up the pocket, running his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath before he turns to face you.

A million memories rush through your head as you watch your husband wrestle his temper back under his control. Ormund was a nightmare made flesh when he wanted to be. A man who could be calm, composed, even charming… until something happened that he didn't like. Too many times you'd dodge objects thrown at your head, vile insults thrown at you, belongings smashed to pieces or your clothing torn to shreds.

And those were just the times he didn't target you personally. There were places on your body that still ached after his temper had been levied at you. Usually Ormund preferred to keep your body and skin intact, choosing instead to torment you with implements and toys that would have you screaming and begging, but occasionally he would hurt you. His favourite then would be a cane or paddle.

The last time this had happened had been for the crime of thanking a delivery driver in passing. You don't even think you truly looked at the man's face, but that hadn't mattered to your vengeful husband.

You absentmindedly rub against the small raised scar on your palm from when he'd used the cane there. It had made Ormund even more angry that you'd bled and couldn't touch him as he wanted. The smell of the blood had sent him from you though, which had been a blessing, and one of his brainwashed cousins had helped you bandage it. 

His eyes drop to your hands, and a gentle smile crosses his face as he looks back at you,

“I've felt your loss much like the wound that caused that scar, wife. I should have brought that cane for you to use on me, it would hurt less than your betrayal. I mean, Kingslanding? You know I hate this city and how it reeks,”

Of course you'd known, the fact that the city did have an odour was a large reason for the appeal of hiding here. That and there were millions of people crammed within the almost labyrinthine streets. You were supposed to blend in.

You don't respond, waiting for Ormund to do or say something. Bitterness chokes you, he didn't love you, not truly. You couldn't give him the heirs he wanted, and he'd blamed you for tricking him, then proceeded to sleep with every woman within that wretched compound of his family’s and you had to witness several children being born who had their fathers eyes or smile or hair. You were worthless to him now, why did he even want you back?

Eventually, Ormund sighs, and takes a step closer to you, “You are still my wife, as witnessed by Gods and man. Consummated under the seven pointed star, and confirmed to the Septon by mine own father,” he took your hand, his thumb rubbed your scar gently, “you cannot run away from me again, wife, from your duty to me and my family,”

“Why?” You snatch your hand back, “Please don't lie to me. You don't love me. Men who love don't hurt their women as you did, and I'm no good for breeding, so why?!”

Ormund cups your cheek with his free hand, your eyes meet his, and you swear for a brief moment that you see tears in his eyes. The fingers brushing yours clasp your hand more firmly, it's almost reflex to hold onto him in return. He drops his forehead to yours, his scent filling your nostrils, and yet more memories come. Good ones. Early ones where you used to tease him for his excessive grooming and cologne. Where he would laugh, then tackle you to the bed so he could rub the fresh scents onto you and bury his face in your neck.

The strongest one he wore was one you'd picked out for him, after hours of careful selection. That's the one you can smell so clearly now, the one that brings tears to your own eyes as Ormund whispers in a broken voice,

“Can you not believe that I have changed? That I miss you, and I want to do better?”

You raise your own hand to mirror his, the slight feeling of stubble against your palm telling you he'd not shaved that morning like he usually would. The first tear falls,

“Ormund… I-”

“Please… just let me take you back home. We'll forget all about this. Start again,”

Perhaps you could try to believe him. So many memories of what you had with Ormund are good, that's what makes the pain of his betrayal and abuse worse. He can be a good boyfriend, husband, lover. He was the best man you'd ever known until…

“We could run away together,” you rush out, pulling away enough so you can meet his eyes, “we can go away and start again, man and wife, I have some money saved, look-” you pull out your coin, showing him your stash. It's modest but there is enough there to hire cars out of the city, take the train… wherever. There was more on this earth than the Seven Kingdoms. You could find somewhere to make a life.

An alarm bell rings in your head, too small to pay attention to, when Ormund takes your stash with a curious look. He looks through it… and finds your wedding ring. Your stomach lurches when you see it, fear punching through you enough that you try and jerk away without thinking. Ormund's hand grabs yours before you can move, lightning fast and just as painful. You wince as he squeezes, trembling as his voice drops to a dangerous level,

“You almost made me forget, wife. Of course a whore like you wouldn't be wearing my possession anymore,”

Tears are falling now, enough that you can taste the salt on your lips, “I'm no who-”

“I saw you with that man!” Ormund takes your wrist, pulling on your arm until you cry out, your body pressed to his. A moan escapes when he points to the camera you'd all but forgotten about, “I instructed my men to install that. I couldn't be here, I'd have kidnapped you the second I saw you, so they helped me. I just wanted to know,” he traces your cheek with his free hand, “if you were no longer my wife. If you were too changed. I might have let you be, you know… but I saw you kiss that man,”

“Please, Ormund-”

“A wife must stay true to her lawful husband, lest she be punished,” he closes his hand around your throat in a grip just this side of bruising, “you will beg forgiveness with your mouth, and then return to Oldtown with me for further penance. You belong to me!”

Ormund leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “On your knees, wife,”

***

Maekar slammed his phone to the table, cracking the screen and sending him further into a rage. No one knew where you were, everyone from the Gold Cloaks to your work colleagues thought you had left of your own free will, but he knew better. You wouldn't have left those damn toys behind, he'd witnessed your joy in collecting them over the months you'd become friends. And you'd been so scared on the phone.

He missed you, and Maekar vowed he would raze cities for you to find you. Unfortunately that meant calling someone he didn't want to, but who was far more adept at finding people than anyone knew. Maekar managed to get his phone to work, sighing when Brynden's voice came through,

You didn't start the fire, but you took advantage of its distraction happily. Everyone in the camp either ran to the bright flames, or to the nursery to protect the children. That's where you were supposed to go, where he told you to run to, and you started to make your way there. You did. But you saw it then, the gate to the road was open, left ajar from when the truck carrying water from the river had come in.

You weren't brave, or strong. Not anymore. But you were desperate. 

You ran. Freedom greeted you on the other side of the gate, and you smiled for the first time in a decade.

A year later

The knock at your apartment door takes you by surprise, a curse falls from your lips when your lipstick smears, and you wipe it away hastily as you go to the peephole and peer through. You do that every time, checking who is there, even if you know full well who it probably is. Like now.

Maekar stands there, all in black as usual, his hands in his pockets, before he brings one out so he can look at his watch. You smile to yourself as you hear his muttered complaint,

“I love waiting in the hallway like a stalker,”

A chuckle bursts out of you, and you quickly disengage the locks, and open the door to your neighbour, apologising quickly,

“Just give me a few minutes? You're earlier than usual,”

He eyes the stain on your face, and shrugs, “No bother, I'm going to answer an email quickly, take your time,”

It had taken you six months to trust Maekar enough to let through your door. He was a good neighbour, when you first moved in - scared and unwilling to talk to any of your neighbours - he had politely left you alone, but also firmly helped you carry groceries or packages up the stairs to where you lived. He never tried to come in, or even talk to you, but he made it clear he would be there for you if you needed him.

A month ago was when you'd first invited him into your space, desperately knocking on his door and begging him to get the large spider out of your apartment which he'd graciously done, no complaints. Once the creature was carefully placed out of the window, Maekar had stood in front of you, a glower on his face that almost made you tremble in fear… and then he'd laughed,

“Such trouble for a fucking spider!” 

You couldn’t help it, now the danger had passed, you realised he was alone with you in your space, and your eyes went immediately to the floor and wouldn't lift. He was going to ask for payment, and you would have to give it-

“Mice?”

“What?” You lifted your eyes then, “Mice?”

Maekar shrugged, “I'm afraid of mice. If one appears at home, I'll call you over and you can deal with it. Fair’s fair, yes?”

“I… you don’t want anything else?” You force the hesitation out of your voice, making yourself look into his eyes. They were purple. You'd never noticed before. Maekar frowns at you,

“Anything else? Like what? It's a fucking spider,” he puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “let me know if you need me again. Good night,”

And he had left without a backwards glance.

It had a been a tentative thing then, allowing him further into your life and space, but Maekar was proving more trustworthy and gentle than you would've predicted. Men were neither trustworthy or gentle in your experience. Now though, you liked to invite Maekar in for coffee in the mornings, and he walked you to work. 

He said it was to keep you company, but you were starting to hope it was more.

“Ready?” Maekar asked when you came out of the bathroom, lipstick now where it should be and no longer smeared on your cheek. Your smile is small, but you nod. 

The silence between you and Maekar is comfortable, he doesn't seem to need to fill silences, and you never know exactly what to say anyway. You want to tell him everything about you, to explain why you are the way you are, but you also never want to speak about your experiences again. To speak his name out loud feels like it would summon him.

The last thing you ever wanted was to have that man's presence back in your life.

When you arrive at the building where you worked, you thank Maekar quietly, but instead of nodding and leaving to go to his own work as he usually would, Maekar stands in front of you, a determined look on his face. You frown, open your mouth to ask what's wrong, when he speaks, 

“I would like to take you on a date on Friday night, to the new Dornish restaurant that's opened two blocks away,” he holds a hand up to stop you interrupting, even though you were too shocked to speak, “I like you, and I think you like me, and I can tell that there's things you don't want to talk about so I make an oath right now to not ask you to tell me. You can do, if you want, but I won't make you.  And if you say no to the date, I will still be your friend,” he smiles a genuine smile then, and your shoulders relax slightly,

“I just wanted to be blunt. I'm not getting any younger,”

That makes you laugh, “Well, neither am I, I suppose,” you pause, “so a… date?”

“Only if you say you want it to be, otherwise it shall be just two neighbours enjoying Dornish food,” he shrugs, “I really like Dornish food,”

Maekar was right. There was a lot you were hiding from him, that you didn't want to talk about. There was a shadow looming over you, his presence tall and suffocating like a tower on a crowded street. You clench your fists, anger blooming like fire suddenly. 

It had been a year since you'd granted your own freedom, and never set eyes on him again. It was time you let yourself live your life again, after all, like Maekar had said, neither of you were getting any younger. You mentally shake yourself, and then smile at Maekar,

“I'd love to go on a date with you.”

He leans forward like he would kiss you, but pulls himself back quickly, instead awkwardly waving and promising to meet you for lunch as usual. Your step is light, and your smile broad as you go into the building, you're blind to everyone else around you. You're finally living life again and it felt incredible. 

You fret over what to wear, his words filling your ears, the rules you had lived with for ten years almost crippling you as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. The relationship you'd fled from hadn't started out badly, they never do, but it had been too late by the time you'd realised the predicament you were in.

You force yourself to say his name out loud. Ormund. The man from your nightmares. He had been the man of your dreams when you'd first met him. He had been handsome, charming, well dressed and attentive to you. He spoiled you, took care of you, and when you'd finally fallen into bed with him, he'd ruined you in the most thorough way you'd ever experienced. 

You had been lonely all your life, though there was no real reason for it. You tried to make friends, but the friendships never became more than surface level. You'd had lovers, but they left you before it could get serious. Your work was fine, but it was work, no one would've missed you if you left suddenly. You had no family, you were alone, living your simple life when you'd bumped into Ormund at the grocery store.

He was a master at manipulation and control, but there was very little to manipulate or control with you. You had no one for him to isolate you from, but he had many friends of his own who all seemed to love him. His family liked you a lot, they encouraged you to spend more and more time with Ormund on their compound which they called Oldtown. 

Soon, you'd left your job to work there with him, it paid better, and you were surrounded by people who seemed to love having you around and appreciated your efforts. When Ormund asked you to be his wife, you thought your life couldn't get any better.

The wedding was simple and beautiful, the wedding night was sublime. If only it had lasted.

You should have known, but how could you? You'd wanted so desperately to be loved, you hadn't seen the danger in giving up everything that was yours to him. Soon Ormund was telling you how to dress, who to talk to, he stopped you working, and all the money you had saved went into an account he controlled.

You shake yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, and deliberately put on the black and red dress that you'd bought in a fit of excited defiance this afternoon. It was something that would've earned you the paddle back in Oldtown if you'd dared try to wear it in public. 

Maekar wouldn't hurt you like that though, and he dressed so impeccably all the time, you had to look nice for him…

Sure enough, when you disengage the inner locks and open the door, your mouth drops open. Maekar looks spectacular, his silver hair contrasting beautifully with the black suit he wore, and his purple eyes shone with appreciation as they looked you up and down,

“You look… very beautiful,” he swallowed thickly, and a surge of confidence went through you enough for you to smile openly,

“Thank you, Maekar. You look incredibly handsome yourself,”

“Oh fuck off, I'm not handsome, but- ah… thank you,” he held out his hand which you took, “I'm sorry, I never usually get compliments, I don't take them very well,”

“Well, you do look very nice,” you shrug, pulling the door closed after you and walking down the hallway, “I'm looking forward to the food,”

“Me too. My ex-wife was Dornish, she got me hooked on the stuff,”

“Your ex wife?” You're stumble over the words, your steps faltering, but Maekar doesn't appear to notice, 

“Yes. Divorced a couple of years now. A good woman, we just wanted different things in the end, but we share custody of the kids,” he shrugs, “what about you? Any exes I need to know about?”

Your heart pounds, the wedding band that is hidden under a floorboard a physical curse that you have to ignore. You smile up at Maekar,

“No exes. So, tell me about your children,”

You asked for no desert without thinking at the end of the meal, a meal where you'd eaten as little as possible because you hadn’t eaten with a man in a year, and the last time you had Ormund had controlled everything on your plate. At your new sanctuary with your new freedom, you'd allowed yourself treats and larger portions, but the habit kicked in immediately as soon as you'd sat down with Maekar. 

He didn't say anything, but as soon as the desert was placed in front of him, he'd scooped up a piece, then taken your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, and gently pulled you towards him over the table,

“Open your mouth, and eat,”

You did. You held his gaze as he fed you from his spoon, and when you licked your lips absentmindedly, you watched as Maekar’s pupils dilated and his eyes dropped to your mouth. For the first time in over a year, you felt arousal course through you like wildfire. Maekar meets your eyes,

“I'm getting the fucking cheque,”

He holds your hand in his as you walk back to your building, his thumb running gently over your inner wrist. Shivers roll over you, nerves, need, a desperate desire, fear, all of it making your head swim. You knew you wanted Maekar, in a way you hadn't wanted a man in a long time. You had wanted Ormund too, that was the problem, he had seduced you, tricked you, lured you in with the expertise of his body, and then trapped you.

Ormund had never forced himself on you, not in the violent way most people would think, anyway, but once you were married and you couldn't escape, sex with him became an expectation that you couldn't avoid. When you had tried, Ormund would punish you, so you stopped trying. You let him do as he would and tried to glean as much pleasure as you could from the act.

What would happen if you decided you didn't want to bring Maekar to your bed tonight? Would he be angry? Would he vow to never see you again?

You entered the building behind Maekar, eyes to the floor when he led you into the elevator. He didn't let you hide though, when the doors slid closed, he once again held your chin and got you to look at him,

“I'm very glad you agreed to a date with me tonight. I had a wonderful time,”

You huff a laugh, your eyes dropping after a moment, “So did I… I just don't know…”

“I'll walk you to your door, and we can organise another date then?”

Again, Maekar proved that he was more than willing to let you move at your own pace, and you almost felt like crying. To be considered in this way, like your feelings mattered-

“I want another date with you, Maekar. I'm sorry, I'm-”

“I'm nervous too. I've only ever been with my ex wife. This is also new territory and not one I want to rush into,”

He sounded so firm, so sure, that your shoulders dropped and you relaxed immediately. Of course, his assurances made your arousal start up again, but you ignore it and let it simmer. You could do this, let your trust build, let Maekar set his own pace. It was better that way.

He continues to hold your hand as you both walk towards your door, you're almost sinking into the feeling of safety he brings you - a feeling you hadn't felt in years - when Maekar stops dead, and you follow suit. You look at him, confused at the look of confusion on his face when you then notice it. Your front door is ajar.

“Did you forget to close your door?” Maekar sounds uncertain over the pounding of your heart. You let go of his hand, automatically going to your door, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You think back desperately,

“I think so?” You remember leaving with him. Surely you would've closed it? It was second nature. Maekar pulls you gently back behind him,

“Let me check inside. Stay here until I say you can come in,”

He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving you hovering in the hallway, your fingers trembling as you pull your phone out of your purse, ready to call the emergency services if Maekar uttered even a small sound of distress-

“It's empty,” Maekar pulls the door open, “you need to see if anything has been stolen,” you take his hand as you go inside, and you cast a careful eye over everything in the small apartment. You don't even feel embarrassed when Maekar comes into your bedroom, and then your bathroom behind you. You were too busy fretting that your sanctuary had been violated by some unknown stranger, but the longer you were in there, the less certain you could be.

Did you forget to close your front door in your excitement? Did you leave your knicknacks like that earlier after you'd dusted? Did you forget to put those clean clothes away, or had they already been there when you were trying on dresses?

After fifteen minutes of careful looking around, you stand with Maekar in your living room, in front of your television that you loved. You bite your bottom lip, carefully rearranging one of the stuffed animals that adorn your space. You secretly called them your friends, the creatures that watched the trash movies and tv that you hadn't been granted access to in a decade. You take another look around, and shrug, tears pricking your eyes,

“Nothing is missing. I must have just… I forgot to close the door. Very stupid, I know,”

You look up from the carpet when you hear Maekar chuckle, “I suppose I am rather attractive and distracting,”

“Very,” you squeeze Maekar’s hand, “I'm sorry for making you worry, but everything is fine,”

“Are you sure?” Another gentle grip of your chin to make you meet his eyes, which you pull away from. As much as you felt he didn't mean anything controlling by it, you wouldn't let Maekar just help himself to your attention whenever he could. You do continue to hold his gaze however, and he drops his hand on a mumbled apology,

“Yes I'm sure, I promise,”

“In that case, I'll leave you to the remainder of your evening.”

You follow him to the front door, taking his hand as he is about to leave, “Thank you for a lovely date, Maekar,”

“You're welcome,” he holds your gaze for a moment, then leans forward and kisses you, almost like he doesn't want to wait in case he changes his mind. His hands are warm as they cradle your face, like you're made of glass, like you're precious. The moment doesn't last long enough, you chase his mouth when he pulls away, your eyes opening as you whine briefly. Maekar chuckles to himself,

“Still got it,”

“You can stay,” you blurt suddenly, “you can stay. Tonight. With me. If you want to… you can stay,”

Maekar shakes his head after a moment's pause, “I would love to, but I won't. I see too many nerves in your eyes tonight,” he leans forwards, his lips brushing the shell of your ear making you shiver, “I want you needy and desperate for me, the same way I will be for you… sleep well,”

And with that, he took your hand, and placed a kiss on your knuckles before he opened your door and left. 

Flowers wait for you the following day at work, golden yellow blooms surrounded by deep green foliage. When you open the card, it just says ‘soon’, and you smile, your face heating as your co-workers ask you about the beautiful flowers and who sent them. Your morning is spent giving details about Maekar, and daydreaming about what was to come. 

It meant a lot that he was happy to take it slowly with you, for all you were well past the age of needing your hand held through dating etiquette, it also had been a very long time. You still thought of all the mistakes you made with Ormund constantly, how you should have realised sooner what he was doing to you, how easily he'd isolated you and kept you from anyone that might have been able to help. You'd only had one date with Maekar and you were already analysing every single syllable that he'd spoken, every slight movement he made.

The flowers were beautiful, but what if they meant more than you were ready for?

You pull out your phone, and text Maekar before you can stop yourself,

Thank you for the flowers, you shouldn't have.

Ormund had once sent you flowers, and when you'd sent a similar message to him, he'd bombarded you with more flowers, sweets, trinkets. You'd enjoyed being spoiled then, but you would see a tactic like that for what it was now, you were certain of it. Maekar responds about twenty minutes later, and you feel the blood drain from your face as you read the words,

I haven't sent you flowers?

They were from Ormund. There was no other explanation. Heart pounding painfully against your ribcage, breathing harshly like you'd run a mile, you beg your manager's leave and say you're too sick to stay, and go before they can stop you.

Every person you pass resembles the husband you don't want to acknowledge, wearing a cold knowing smirk. Every stranger's casual pass on the street sent you jumping into the air, curses spilling from your lips. No one was safe to you, they all could be his spies-

Your phone rings, and you squeak in alarm before you pull yourself together enough to look at the screen and see it's Maekar. You should ignore the call, you need to run, and he can no longer be a part of your life, but you're weak. You want to hear his voice one last time,

“Maekar, I-”

“You didn't answer my message, I was worried, are you well?”

You stop in the street, ducking into the doorway of a closed down restaurant to answer, “N-no. I'm sorry for the confusion, it's just-”

“Who sent you those flowers?” His voice went hard, “Where are you?”

“I'm- I need to go home-” you cut yourself off, “the flowers are from my- an ex. I just want to get home,” you don't say that you've hidden money at your home, and you need it to start over again. It's foolish, you know that. If Ormund knew where you worked, there was a good chance he knew where you lived.

But there was also a chance that he didn't know. You couldn’t take the risk of leaving without your coin, there would be no trace of where you went that way.

“Your ex?” Maekar sounded an ill fitting combination of angry and bemused, “You never told me-”

“I didn't have to tell you anything, Maekar!” You interrupt him, ignoring the stab in your heart for what you would say next, “We're not a couple, and we never will be. This isn't what I want… you're not what I want,” you close your eyes as you hear a pained gasp, “goodbye,”

You hang up before he can say anything else to you, and resume your journey back to your apartment. 

You push your way into your apartment, taking a moment to stand in the doorway. Nothing seems out of place, everything feels still and quiet… you go to your hidey spot immediately, lifting the floorboard easily and pulling out the box that held all the money you'd hidden and saved. You also pull out your wedding band, vowing to sell it when you can this time. 

It only takes a minute to pack essentials, and you head to the door, leaving a wistful look at your ‘friends’, knowing you can't take them with you, you'd have to start your collection again… you frown as you stare at them.

You hadn't noticed last night, but one of your stuffed animals was out of place, and you knew that because it always stood at the back as it was so tall. It now stood closer to the front, blocking out some of the smaller animals. You should be running, you should be halfway back to the ground floor after getting in the elevator. A taxi to the closest station to bring you to the North would be your next step. But instead, you walk to your stuffed animal, and take him down. Stomach sinking as you realise it's heavier than it should be.

The camera isn't that big, it's probably why you didn't notice the lens pointing at your apartment through a hole that was ripped into the belly of the bear that housed it. You take it out, staring at the cursed thing, and then throw it to the floor and stamp on it. It only takes one time to shatter it to pieces, but your breath comes out in ragged bursts, your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl, and you hiss,

“Fuck you!”

Standing, you rush to the front door, hoping that Ormund had seen that, that he was as angry as you were, that his impotent anger would give rise to a heart attack and he would die so you would never have to see or think about him again-

You freeze as you pull open your door. Ormund is on the other side, a terrible smirk on his face,

“Hello, wife,”

A brief look of surprise crosses his face when you go to bolt past him and into the hallway where you would yell and shout and scream, but he's faster than you. Ormund grabs you on a grunt of effort, his hand covers your mouth immediately, cutting off the noise you wanted to make, and dragging you back into your apartment. You stumble into the living room when he pushes you away from him, staring helplessly as he takes a key from an inner pocket in his jacket and locks the door. Ormund takes his time, carefully putting the key back, zipping up the pocket, running his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath before he turns to face you.

A million memories rush through your head as you watch your husband wrestle his temper back under his control. Ormund was a nightmare made flesh when he wanted to be. A man who could be calm, composed, even charming… until something happened that he didn't like. Too many times you'd dodge objects thrown at your head, vile insults thrown at you, belongings smashed to pieces or your clothing torn to shreds.

And those were just the times he didn't target you personally. There were places on your body that still ached after his temper had been levied at you. Usually Ormund preferred to keep your body and skin intact, choosing instead to torment you with implements and toys that would have you screaming and begging, but occasionally he would hurt you. His favourite then would be a cane or paddle.

The last time this had happened had been for the crime of thanking a delivery driver in passing. You don't even think you truly looked at the man's face, but that hadn't mattered to your vengeful husband.

You absentmindedly rub against the small raised scar on your palm from when he'd used the cane there. It had made Ormund even more angry that you'd bled and couldn't touch him as he wanted. The smell of the blood had sent him from you though, which had been a blessing, and one of his brainwashed cousins had helped you bandage it. 

His eyes drop to your hands, and a gentle smile crosses his face as he looks back at you,

“I've felt your loss much like the wound that caused that scar, wife. I should have brought that cane for you to use on me, it would hurt less than your betrayal. I mean, Kingslanding? You know I hate this city and how it reeks,”

Of course you'd known, the fact that the city did have an odour was a large reason for the appeal of hiding here. That and there were millions of people crammed within the almost labyrinthine streets. You were supposed to blend in.

You don't respond, waiting for Ormund to do or say something. Bitterness chokes you, he didn't love you, not truly. You couldn't give him the heirs he wanted, and he'd blamed you for tricking him, then proceeded to sleep with every woman within that wretched compound of his family’s and you had to witness several children being born who had their fathers eyes or smile or hair. You were worthless to him now, why did he even want you back?

Eventually, Ormund sighs, and takes a step closer to you, “You are still my wife, as witnessed by Gods and man. Consummated under the seven pointed star, and confirmed to the Septon by mine own father,” he took your hand, his thumb rubbed your scar gently, “you cannot run away from me again, wife, from your duty to me and my family,”

“Why?” You snatch your hand back, “Please don't lie to me. You don't love me. Men who love don't hurt their women as you did, and I'm no good for breeding, so why?!”

Ormund cups your cheek with his free hand, your eyes meet his, and you swear for a brief moment that you see tears in his eyes. The fingers brushing yours clasp your hand more firmly, it's almost reflex to hold onto him in return. He drops his forehead to yours, his scent filling your nostrils, and yet more memories come. Good ones. Early ones where you used to tease him for his excessive grooming and cologne. Where he would laugh, then tackle you to the bed so he could rub the fresh scents onto you and bury his face in your neck.

The strongest one he wore was one you'd picked out for him, after hours of careful selection. That's the one you can smell so clearly now, the one that brings tears to your own eyes as Ormund whispers in a broken voice,

“Can you not believe that I have changed? That I miss you, and I want to do better?”

You raise your own hand to mirror his, the slight feeling of stubble against your palm telling you he'd not shaved that morning like he usually would. The first tear falls,

“Ormund… I-”

“Please… just let me take you back home. We'll forget all about this. Start again,”

Perhaps you could try to believe him. So many memories of what you had with Ormund are good, that's what makes the pain of his betrayal and abuse worse. He can be a good boyfriend, husband, lover. He was the best man you'd ever known until…

“We could run away together,” you rush out, pulling away enough so you can meet his eyes, “we can go away and start again, man and wife, I have some money saved, look-” you pull out your coin, showing him your stash. It's modest but there is enough there to hire cars out of the city, take the train… wherever. There was more on this earth than the Seven Kingdoms. You could find somewhere to make a life.

An alarm bell rings in your head, too small to pay attention to, when Ormund takes your stash with a curious look. He looks through it… and finds your wedding ring. Your stomach lurches when you see it, fear punching through you enough that you try and jerk away without thinking. Ormund's hand grabs yours before you can move, lightning fast and just as painful. You wince as he squeezes, trembling as his voice drops to a dangerous level,

“You almost made me forget, wife. Of course a whore like you wouldn't be wearing my possession anymore,”

Tears are falling now, enough that you can taste the salt on your lips, “I'm no who-”

“I saw you with that man!” Ormund takes your wrist, pulling on your arm until you cry out, your body pressed to his. A moan escapes when he points to the camera you'd all but forgotten about, “I instructed my men to install that. I couldn't be here, I'd have kidnapped you the second I saw you, so they helped me. I just wanted to know,” he traces your cheek with his free hand, “if you were no longer my wife. If you were too changed. I might have let you be, you know… but I saw you kiss that man,”

“Please, Ormund-”

“A wife must stay true to her lawful husband, lest she be punished,” he closes his hand around your throat in a grip just this side of bruising, “you will beg forgiveness with your mouth, and then return to Oldtown with me for further penance. You belong to me!”

Ormund leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “On your knees, wife,”

***

Maekar slammed his phone to the table, cracking the screen and sending him further into a rage. No one knew where you were, everyone from the Gold Cloaks to your work colleagues thought you had left of your own free will, but he knew better. You wouldn't have left those damn toys behind, he'd witnessed your joy in collecting them over the months you'd become friends. And you'd been so scared on the phone.

He missed you, and Maekar vowed he would raze cities for you to find you. Unfortunately that meant calling someone he didn't want to, but who was far more adept at finding people than anyone knew. Maekar managed to get his phone to work, sighing when Brynden's voice came through,

You didn't start the fire, but you took advantage of its distraction happily. Everyone in the camp either ran to the bright flames, or to the nursery to protect the children. That's where you were supposed to go, where he told you to run to, and you started to make your way there. You did. But you saw it then, the gate to the road was open, left ajar from when the truck carrying water from the river had come in.

You weren't brave, or strong. Not anymore. But you were desperate. 

You ran. Freedom greeted you on the other side of the gate, and you smiled for the first time in a decade.

A year later

The knock at your apartment door takes you by surprise, a curse falls from your lips when your lipstick smears, and you wipe it away hastily as you go to the peephole and peer through. You do that every time, checking who is there, even if you know full well who it probably is. Like now.

Maekar stands there, all in black as usual, his hands in his pockets, before he brings one out so he can look at his watch. You smile to yourself as you hear his muttered complaint,

“I love waiting in the hallway like a stalker,”

A chuckle bursts out of you, and you quickly disengage the locks, and open the door to your neighbour, apologising quickly,

“Just give me a few minutes? You're earlier than usual,”

He eyes the stain on your face, and shrugs, “No bother, I'm going to answer an email quickly, take your time,”

It had taken you six months to trust Maekar enough to let through your door. He was a good neighbour, when you first moved in - scared and unwilling to talk to any of your neighbours - he had politely left you alone, but also firmly helped you carry groceries or packages up the stairs to where you lived. He never tried to come in, or even talk to you, but he made it clear he would be there for you if you needed him.

A month ago was when you'd first invited him into your space, desperately knocking on his door and begging him to get the large spider out of your apartment which he'd graciously done, no complaints. Once the creature was carefully placed out of the window, Maekar had stood in front of you, a glower on his face that almost made you tremble in fear… and then he'd laughed,

“Such trouble for a fucking spider!” 

You couldn’t help it, now the danger had passed, you realised he was alone with you in your space, and your eyes went immediately to the floor and wouldn't lift. He was going to ask for payment, and you would have to give it-

“Mice?”

“What?” You lifted your eyes then, “Mice?”

Maekar shrugged, “I'm afraid of mice. If one appears at home, I'll call you over and you can deal with it. Fair’s fair, yes?”

“I… you don’t want anything else?” You force the hesitation out of your voice, making yourself look into his eyes. They were purple. You'd never noticed before. Maekar frowns at you,

“Anything else? Like what? It's a fucking spider,” he puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “let me know if you need me again. Good night,”

And he had left without a backwards glance.

It had a been a tentative thing then, allowing him further into your life and space, but Maekar was proving more trustworthy and gentle than you would've predicted. Men were neither trustworthy or gentle in your experience. Now though, you liked to invite Maekar in for coffee in the mornings, and he walked you to work. 

He said it was to keep you company, but you were starting to hope it was more.

“Ready?” Maekar asked when you came out of the bathroom, lipstick now where it should be and no longer smeared on your cheek. Your smile is small, but you nod. 

The silence between you and Maekar is comfortable, he doesn't seem to need to fill silences, and you never know exactly what to say anyway. You want to tell him everything about you, to explain why you are the way you are, but you also never want to speak about your experiences again. To speak his name out loud feels like it would summon him.

The last thing you ever wanted was to have that man's presence back in your life.

When you arrive at the building where you worked, you thank Maekar quietly, but instead of nodding and leaving to go to his own work as he usually would, Maekar stands in front of you, a determined look on his face. You frown, open your mouth to ask what's wrong, when he speaks, 

“I would like to take you on a date on Friday night, to the new Dornish restaurant that's opened two blocks away,” he holds a hand up to stop you interrupting, even though you were too shocked to speak, “I like you, and I think you like me, and I can tell that there's things you don't want to talk about so I make an oath right now to not ask you to tell me. You can do, if you want, but I won't make you.  And if you say no to the date, I will still be your friend,” he smiles a genuine smile then, and your shoulders relax slightly,

“I just wanted to be blunt. I'm not getting any younger,”

That makes you laugh, “Well, neither am I, I suppose,” you pause, “so a… date?”

“Only if you say you want it to be, otherwise it shall be just two neighbours enjoying Dornish food,” he shrugs, “I really like Dornish food,”

Maekar was right. There was a lot you were hiding from him, that you didn't want to talk about. There was a shadow looming over you, his presence tall and suffocating like a tower on a crowded street. You clench your fists, anger blooming like fire suddenly. 

It had been a year since you'd granted your own freedom, and never set eyes on him again. It was time you let yourself live your life again, after all, like Maekar had said, neither of you were getting any younger. You mentally shake yourself, and then smile at Maekar,

“I'd love to go on a date with you.”

He leans forward like he would kiss you, but pulls himself back quickly, instead awkwardly waving and promising to meet you for lunch as usual. Your step is light, and your smile broad as you go into the building, you're blind to everyone else around you. You're finally living life again and it felt incredible. 

You fret over what to wear, his words filling your ears, the rules you had lived with for ten years almost crippling you as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. The relationship you'd fled from hadn't started out badly, they never do, but it had been too late by the time you'd realised the predicament you were in.

You force yourself to say his name out loud. Ormund. The man from your nightmares. He had been the man of your dreams when you'd first met him. He had been handsome, charming, well dressed and attentive to you. He spoiled you, took care of you, and when you'd finally fallen into bed with him, he'd ruined you in the most thorough way you'd ever experienced. 

You had been lonely all your life, though there was no real reason for it. You tried to make friends, but the friendships never became more than surface level. You'd had lovers, but they left you before it could get serious. Your work was fine, but it was work, no one would've missed you if you left suddenly. You had no family, you were alone, living your simple life when you'd bumped into Ormund at the grocery store.

He was a master at manipulation and control, but there was very little to manipulate or control with you. You had no one for him to isolate you from, but he had many friends of his own who all seemed to love him. His family liked you a lot, they encouraged you to spend more and more time with Ormund on their compound which they called Oldtown. 

Soon, you'd left your job to work there with him, it paid better, and you were surrounded by people who seemed to love having you around and appreciated your efforts. When Ormund asked you to be his wife, you thought your life couldn't get any better.

The wedding was simple and beautiful, the wedding night was sublime. If only it had lasted.

You should have known, but how could you? You'd wanted so desperately to be loved, you hadn't seen the danger in giving up everything that was yours to him. Soon Ormund was telling you how to dress, who to talk to, he stopped you working, and all the money you had saved went into an account he controlled.

You shake yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, and deliberately put on the black and red dress that you'd bought in a fit of excited defiance this afternoon. It was something that would've earned you the paddle back in Oldtown if you'd dared try to wear it in public. 

Maekar wouldn't hurt you like that though, and he dressed so impeccably all the time, you had to look nice for him…

Sure enough, when you disengage the inner locks and open the door, your mouth drops open. Maekar looks spectacular, his silver hair contrasting beautifully with the black suit he wore, and his purple eyes shone with appreciation as they looked you up and down,

“You look… very beautiful,” he swallowed thickly, and a surge of confidence went through you enough for you to smile openly,

“Thank you, Maekar. You look incredibly handsome yourself,”

“Oh fuck off, I'm not handsome, but- ah… thank you,” he held out his hand which you took, “I'm sorry, I never usually get compliments, I don't take them very well,”

“Well, you do look very nice,” you shrug, pulling the door closed after you and walking down the hallway, “I'm looking forward to the food,”

“Me too. My ex-wife was Dornish, she got me hooked on the stuff,”

“Your ex wife?” You're stumble over the words, your steps faltering, but Maekar doesn't appear to notice, 

“Yes. Divorced a couple of years now. A good woman, we just wanted different things in the end, but we share custody of the kids,” he shrugs, “what about you? Any exes I need to know about?”

Your heart pounds, the wedding band that is hidden under a floorboard a physical curse that you have to ignore. You smile up at Maekar,

“No exes. So, tell me about your children,”

You asked for no desert without thinking at the end of the meal, a meal where you'd eaten as little as possible because you hadn’t eaten with a man in a year, and the last time you had Ormund had controlled everything on your plate. At your new sanctuary with your new freedom, you'd allowed yourself treats and larger portions, but the habit kicked in immediately as soon as you'd sat down with Maekar. 

He didn't say anything, but as soon as the desert was placed in front of him, he'd scooped up a piece, then taken your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, and gently pulled you towards him over the table,

“Open your mouth, and eat,”

You did. You held his gaze as he fed you from his spoon, and when you licked your lips absentmindedly, you watched as Maekar’s pupils dilated and his eyes dropped to your mouth. For the first time in over a year, you felt arousal course through you like wildfire. Maekar meets your eyes,

“I'm getting the fucking cheque,”

He holds your hand in his as you walk back to your building, his thumb running gently over your inner wrist. Shivers roll over you, nerves, need, a desperate desire, fear, all of it making your head swim. You knew you wanted Maekar, in a way you hadn't wanted a man in a long time. You had wanted Ormund too, that was the problem, he had seduced you, tricked you, lured you in with the expertise of his body, and then trapped you.

Ormund had never forced himself on you, not in the violent way most people would think, anyway, but once you were married and you couldn't escape, sex with him became an expectation that you couldn't avoid. When you had tried, Ormund would punish you, so you stopped trying. You let him do as he would and tried to glean as much pleasure as you could from the act.

What would happen if you decided you didn't want to bring Maekar to your bed tonight? Would he be angry? Would he vow to never see you again?

You entered the building behind Maekar, eyes to the floor when he led you into the elevator. He didn't let you hide though, when the doors slid closed, he once again held your chin and got you to look at him,

“I'm very glad you agreed to a date with me tonight. I had a wonderful time,”

You huff a laugh, your eyes dropping after a moment, “So did I… I just don't know…”

“I'll walk you to your door, and we can organise another date then?”

Again, Maekar proved that he was more than willing to let you move at your own pace, and you almost felt like crying. To be considered in this way, like your feelings mattered-

“I want another date with you, Maekar. I'm sorry, I'm-”

“I'm nervous too. I've only ever been with my ex wife. This is also new territory and not one I want to rush into,”

He sounded so firm, so sure, that your shoulders dropped and you relaxed immediately. Of course, his assurances made your arousal start up again, but you ignore it and let it simmer. You could do this, let your trust build, let Maekar set his own pace. It was better that way.

He continues to hold your hand as you both walk towards your door, you're almost sinking into the feeling of safety he brings you - a feeling you hadn't felt in years - when Maekar stops dead, and you follow suit. You look at him, confused at the look of confusion on his face when you then notice it. Your front door is ajar.

“Did you forget to close your door?” Maekar sounds uncertain over the pounding of your heart. You let go of his hand, automatically going to your door, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You think back desperately,

“I think so?” You remember leaving with him. Surely you would've closed it? It was second nature. Maekar pulls you gently back behind him,

“Let me check inside. Stay here until I say you can come in,”

He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving you hovering in the hallway, your fingers trembling as you pull your phone out of your purse, ready to call the emergency services if Maekar uttered even a small sound of distress-

“It's empty,” Maekar pulls the door open, “you need to see if anything has been stolen,” you take his hand as you go inside, and you cast a careful eye over everything in the small apartment. You don't even feel embarrassed when Maekar comes into your bedroom, and then your bathroom behind you. You were too busy fretting that your sanctuary had been violated by some unknown stranger, but the longer you were in there, the less certain you could be.

Did you forget to close your front door in your excitement? Did you leave your knicknacks like that earlier after you'd dusted? Did you forget to put those clean clothes away, or had they already been there when you were trying on dresses?

After fifteen minutes of careful looking around, you stand with Maekar in your living room, in front of your television that you loved. You bite your bottom lip, carefully rearranging one of the stuffed animals that adorn your space. You secretly called them your friends, the creatures that watched the trash movies and tv that you hadn't been granted access to in a decade. You take another look around, and shrug, tears pricking your eyes,

“Nothing is missing. I must have just… I forgot to close the door. Very stupid, I know,”

You look up from the carpet when you hear Maekar chuckle, “I suppose I am rather attractive and distracting,”

“Very,” you squeeze Maekar’s hand, “I'm sorry for making you worry, but everything is fine,”

“Are you sure?” Another gentle grip of your chin to make you meet his eyes, which you pull away from. As much as you felt he didn't mean anything controlling by it, you wouldn't let Maekar just help himself to your attention whenever he could. You do continue to hold his gaze however, and he drops his hand on a mumbled apology,

“Yes I'm sure, I promise,”

“In that case, I'll leave you to the remainder of your evening.”

You follow him to the front door, taking his hand as he is about to leave, “Thank you for a lovely date, Maekar,”

“You're welcome,” he holds your gaze for a moment, then leans forward and kisses you, almost like he doesn't want to wait in case he changes his mind. His hands are warm as they cradle your face, like you're made of glass, like you're precious. The moment doesn't last long enough, you chase his mouth when he pulls away, your eyes opening as you whine briefly. Maekar chuckles to himself,

“Still got it,”

“You can stay,” you blurt suddenly, “you can stay. Tonight. With me. If you want to… you can stay,”

Maekar shakes his head after a moment's pause, “I would love to, but I won't. I see too many nerves in your eyes tonight,” he leans forwards, his lips brushing the shell of your ear making you shiver, “I want you needy and desperate for me, the same way I will be for you… sleep well,”

And with that, he took your hand, and placed a kiss on your knuckles before he opened your door and left. 

Flowers wait for you the following day at work, golden yellow blooms surrounded by deep green foliage. When you open the card, it just says ‘soon’, and you smile, your face heating as your co-workers ask you about the beautiful flowers and who sent them. Your morning is spent giving details about Maekar, and daydreaming about what was to come. 

It meant a lot that he was happy to take it slowly with you, for all you were well past the age of needing your hand held through dating etiquette, it also had been a very long time. You still thought of all the mistakes you made with Ormund constantly, how you should have realised sooner what he was doing to you, how easily he'd isolated you and kept you from anyone that might have been able to help. You'd only had one date with Maekar and you were already analysing every single syllable that he'd spoken, every slight movement he made.

The flowers were beautiful, but what if they meant more than you were ready for?

You pull out your phone, and text Maekar before you can stop yourself,

Thank you for the flowers, you shouldn't have.

Ormund had once sent you flowers, and when you'd sent a similar message to him, he'd bombarded you with more flowers, sweets, trinkets. You'd enjoyed being spoiled then, but you would see a tactic like that for what it was now, you were certain of it. Maekar responds about twenty minutes later, and you feel the blood drain from your face as you read the words,

I haven't sent you flowers?

They were from Ormund. There was no other explanation. Heart pounding painfully against your ribcage, breathing harshly like you'd run a mile, you beg your manager's leave and say you're too sick to stay, and go before they can stop you.

Every person you pass resembles the husband you don't want to acknowledge, wearing a cold knowing smirk. Every stranger's casual pass on the street sent you jumping into the air, curses spilling from your lips. No one was safe to you, they all could be his spies-

Your phone rings, and you squeak in alarm before you pull yourself together enough to look at the screen and see it's Maekar. You should ignore the call, you need to run, and he can no longer be a part of your life, but you're weak. You want to hear his voice one last time,

“Maekar, I-”

“You didn't answer my message, I was worried, are you well?”

You stop in the street, ducking into the doorway of a closed down restaurant to answer, “N-no. I'm sorry for the confusion, it's just-”

“Who sent you those flowers?” His voice went hard, “Where are you?”

“I'm- I need to go home-” you cut yourself off, “the flowers are from my- an ex. I just want to get home,” you don't say that you've hidden money at your home, and you need it to start over again. It's foolish, you know that. If Ormund knew where you worked, there was a good chance he knew where you lived.

But there was also a chance that he didn't know. You couldn’t take the risk of leaving without your coin, there would be no trace of where you went that way.

“Your ex?” Maekar sounded an ill fitting combination of angry and bemused, “You never told me-”

“I didn't have to tell you anything, Maekar!” You interrupt him, ignoring the stab in your heart for what you would say next, “We're not a couple, and we never will be. This isn't what I want… you're not what I want,” you close your eyes as you hear a pained gasp, “goodbye,”

You hang up before he can say anything else to you, and resume your journey back to your apartment. 

You push your way into your apartment, taking a moment to stand in the doorway. Nothing seems out of place, everything feels still and quiet… you go to your hidey spot immediately, lifting the floorboard easily and pulling out the box that held all the money you'd hidden and saved. You also pull out your wedding band, vowing to sell it when you can this time. 

It only takes a minute to pack essentials, and you head to the door, leaving a wistful look at your ‘friends’, knowing you can't take them with you, you'd have to start your collection again… you frown as you stare at them.

You hadn't noticed last night, but one of your stuffed animals was out of place, and you knew that because it always stood at the back as it was so tall. It now stood closer to the front, blocking out some of the smaller animals. You should be running, you should be halfway back to the ground floor after getting in the elevator. A taxi to the closest station to bring you to the North would be your next step. But instead, you walk to your stuffed animal, and take him down. Stomach sinking as you realise it's heavier than it should be.

The camera isn't that big, it's probably why you didn't notice the lens pointing at your apartment through a hole that was ripped into the belly of the bear that housed it. You take it out, staring at the cursed thing, and then throw it to the floor and stamp on it. It only takes one time to shatter it to pieces, but your breath comes out in ragged bursts, your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl, and you hiss,

“Fuck you!”

Standing, you rush to the front door, hoping that Ormund had seen that, that he was as angry as you were, that his impotent anger would give rise to a heart attack and he would die so you would never have to see or think about him again-

You freeze as you pull open your door. Ormund is on the other side, a terrible smirk on his face,

“Hello, wife,”

A brief look of surprise crosses his face when you go to bolt past him and into the hallway where you would yell and shout and scream, but he's faster than you. Ormund grabs you on a grunt of effort, his hand covers your mouth immediately, cutting off the noise you wanted to make, and dragging you back into your apartment. You stumble into the living room when he pushes you away from him, staring helplessly as he takes a key from an inner pocket in his jacket and locks the door. Ormund takes his time, carefully putting the key back, zipping up the pocket, running his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath before he turns to face you.

A million memories rush through your head as you watch your husband wrestle his temper back under his control. Ormund was a nightmare made flesh when he wanted to be. A man who could be calm, composed, even charming… until something happened that he didn't like. Too many times you'd dodge objects thrown at your head, vile insults thrown at you, belongings smashed to pieces or your clothing torn to shreds.

And those were just the times he didn't target you personally. There were places on your body that still ached after his temper had been levied at you. Usually Ormund preferred to keep your body and skin intact, choosing instead to torment you with implements and toys that would have you screaming and begging, but occasionally he would hurt you. His favourite then would be a cane or paddle.

The last time this had happened had been for the crime of thanking a delivery driver in passing. You don't even think you truly looked at the man's face, but that hadn't mattered to your vengeful husband.

You absentmindedly rub against the small raised scar on your palm from when he'd used the cane there. It had made Ormund even more angry that you'd bled and couldn't touch him as he wanted. The smell of the blood had sent him from you though, which had been a blessing, and one of his brainwashed cousins had helped you bandage it. 

His eyes drop to your hands, and a gentle smile crosses his face as he looks back at you,

“I've felt your loss much like the wound that caused that scar, wife. I should have brought that cane for you to use on me, it would hurt less than your betrayal. I mean, Kingslanding? You know I hate this city and how it reeks,”

Of course you'd known, the fact that the city did have an odour was a large reason for the appeal of hiding here. That and there were millions of people crammed within the almost labyrinthine streets. You were supposed to blend in.

You don't respond, waiting for Ormund to do or say something. Bitterness chokes you, he didn't love you, not truly. You couldn't give him the heirs he wanted, and he'd blamed you for tricking him, then proceeded to sleep with every woman within that wretched compound of his family’s and you had to witness several children being born who had their fathers eyes or smile or hair. You were worthless to him now, why did he even want you back?

Eventually, Ormund sighs, and takes a step closer to you, “You are still my wife, as witnessed by Gods and man. Consummated under the seven pointed star, and confirmed to the Septon by mine own father,” he took your hand, his thumb rubbed your scar gently, “you cannot run away from me again, wife, from your duty to me and my family,”

“Why?” You snatch your hand back, “Please don't lie to me. You don't love me. Men who love don't hurt their women as you did, and I'm no good for breeding, so why?!”

Ormund cups your cheek with his free hand, your eyes meet his, and you swear for a brief moment that you see tears in his eyes. The fingers brushing yours clasp your hand more firmly, it's almost reflex to hold onto him in return. He drops his forehead to yours, his scent filling your nostrils, and yet more memories come. Good ones. Early ones where you used to tease him for his excessive grooming and cologne. Where he would laugh, then tackle you to the bed so he could rub the fresh scents onto you and bury his face in your neck.

The strongest one he wore was one you'd picked out for him, after hours of careful selection. That's the one you can smell so clearly now, the one that brings tears to your own eyes as Ormund whispers in a broken voice,

“Can you not believe that I have changed? That I miss you, and I want to do better?”

You raise your own hand to mirror his, the slight feeling of stubble against your palm telling you he'd not shaved that morning like he usually would. The first tear falls,

“Ormund… I-”

“Please… just let me take you back home. We'll forget all about this. Start again,”

Perhaps you could try to believe him. So many memories of what you had with Ormund are good, that's what makes the pain of his betrayal and abuse worse. He can be a good boyfriend, husband, lover. He was the best man you'd ever known until…

“We could run away together,” you rush out, pulling away enough so you can meet his eyes, “we can go away and start again, man and wife, I have some money saved, look-” you pull out your coin, showing him your stash. It's modest but there is enough there to hire cars out of the city, take the train… wherever. There was more on this earth than the Seven Kingdoms. You could find somewhere to make a life.

An alarm bell rings in your head, too small to pay attention to, when Ormund takes your stash with a curious look. He looks through it… and finds your wedding ring. Your stomach lurches when you see it, fear punching through you enough that you try and jerk away without thinking. Ormund's hand grabs yours before you can move, lightning fast and just as painful. You wince as he squeezes, trembling as his voice drops to a dangerous level,

“You almost made me forget, wife. Of course a whore like you wouldn't be wearing my possession anymore,”

Tears are falling now, enough that you can taste the salt on your lips, “I'm no who-”

“I saw you with that man!” Ormund takes your wrist, pulling on your arm until you cry out, your body pressed to his. A moan escapes when he points to the camera you'd all but forgotten about, “I instructed my men to install that. I couldn't be here, I'd have kidnapped you the second I saw you, so they helped me. I just wanted to know,” he traces your cheek with his free hand, “if you were no longer my wife. If you were too changed. I might have let you be, you know… but I saw you kiss that man,”

“Please, Ormund-”

“A wife must stay true to her lawful husband, lest she be punished,” he closes his hand around your throat in a grip just this side of bruising, “you will beg forgiveness with your mouth, and then return to Oldtown with me for further penance. You belong to me!”

Ormund leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “On your knees, wife,”

***

Maekar slammed his phone to the table, cracking the screen and sending him further into a rage. No one knew where you were, everyone from the Gold Cloaks to your work colleagues thought you had left of your own free will, but he knew better. You wouldn't have left those damn toys behind, he'd witnessed your joy in collecting them over the months you'd become friends. And you'd been so scared on the phone.

He missed you, and Maekar vowed he would raze cities for you to find you. Unfortunately that meant calling someone he didn't want to, but who was far more adept at finding people than anyone knew. Maekar managed to get his phone to work, sighing when Brynden's voice came through,