Pairing: Maven/Mare

Rating: M+

Warnings: Emotional abuse, consensual sex, Stockholm syndrome

Disclaimer: All characters are the sole property of Victoria Aveyard & HarperTeen Publishing. This work is created soley for entertainment purposes.

Author's Notes: Takes place a week after the ending of Glass Sword. No mentions of The King's Cage (as I haven't read it yet oops). Please note that these themes do not represent any personal values and are not to be taken lightly. Emotional abuse is still abuse, folks—and it is never okay. This won't be a long story. It will mostly be a series of one-shots—about 5 parts.

Maven sat still, back leaning causally into his throne as though it'd been a usual stance for years. He reveled in the quietness of the grand room, ears still buzzing with the various sounds of crowds he'd just been in front of. It was a feeling he hadn't grown accustomed to as of yet. Though he was used to being a part of the attention, the levels of adrenaline that coursed through him were far more intense when he was the cynosure of all.

It was addicting—the way in which everyone looked to him for answers. He had no qualms over those who visibly disagreed with him. No one was brave enough to step forward and denounce him. His hold over the kingdom was stern, and he it would remain as such for a long time.

A string of duties ran through his mind with a hint of laziness. He closed his eyes for a moment in hopes to regain an ounce of strength. It'd been a long while since he was able to sleep well. The loss of his dear mother had made the restless nights worse, but he had an inkling that those nights would soon come to an end. Now that plans had been placed in motion to rid himself of the pests that were the Scarlet Guard and his brother, it wouldn't be long now that he could properly commence a new era under his rule.

The door swished open, a guard bowing before stepping to the side. Maven instantly perked up, his fiery eyes dancing with excitement as Mare walked into the room with her eyes stubbornly glued to the floor. Her heels echoed in the room as she was forced to stand in the center of his gaze. The king waved off his guard with mild interest, his gaze never faltering from his prize. The jeweled necklace shimmered prettily against her tan skin as she stood under the lights of the room.

He wondered what his mother would think of him then. She'd instilled a sense of detachment when it came to frivolous things like emotions, and for a while he'd been an excellent student in that standpoint. He'd played the perfect role of Prince, smiling when prompted, charming when needed. But it was vastly different when it came to Mare Barrow. She'd stripped him of his powers in that aspect, spilling her essence into the cracks of his bones until she merged herself into him. Maven despised her for it. He hated the woman standing silently before him and he yearned to govern her in all ways imaginable.

It wouldn't be long before he owned every inch of her, body, mind, and soul—he would possess her, and she would surrender to him willingly.

"I trust you're well rested?" Maven's lips quirked into an amused smirk when she remained quiet, eyes boring holes into the floor with silent, murderous rage.

The King took in the sight of her then. Her chest rose rapidly, causing her plunging neckline to accentuate her clothed breasts. The sapphire blue dress that spilled over her body in a waterfall of silks suited her and Maven made a mental note to have them dress her in the color often.

He let out a dramatic sigh, shifting his back so that it rested against the throne, fingers tapping gingerly on his clothed thigh. Though his first instinct was to kiss her pliable lips—taste her sweet essence, he knew that it was crucial to take his time with her. Despite what it may have seen to the naked eye, his intention wasn't to scare her, it was a far more selfish matter than that. He wanted her to look at him like she used to. He wanted Mare to smile and love him as she once did. And though it was a very quaint feeling in the pit of his stomach, he knew there was still something in her that could bloom the feeling once more.

But she would not know this—not yet.

"You wound me, Mare. Here I thought you'd missed me. I haven't seen you since the day I gave you your necklace." He rose from his seat on the throne, making a show to dust his clothes as though he'd been out all day, hard at work like some common Red. He took languid steps toward her soon after, eyes gleaming with a dangerous playfulness.

She turned to him then, eyes blazing with lightening. There was his little lightening girl. No matter what circumstances you placed her in, Mare would always continue to have some fight in her.

"Don't you mean your collar?" She accused, voice dripping with venom.

He stopped mere inches before her now, content in watching her seethe. The anger she was probably feeling tinted her cheeks in a pretty shade of rose. His fingers twitched at his side to feel the warmness on them. He needed to take his time, though he felt his patience wearing thin, he needed to be sure that she was completely broken.

Only then could he truly have her. Only then would she really be his.

His eyes glittered with desire, fingers ghosting over her naked shoulders as he hovered his lips over her ear. He grinned at the feel of her shiver. Insurgent locks of hair danced under his breath as he brushed them behind her jeweled ear. She truly was a lovely specimen and the thought of his fingers mapping every part of her only made him yearn for her more.

Maven placed a hand on the small of her back, bringing her ever so closer to him as he whispered out his dark promise. "A gift still, Mare. You and I will have plenty of time to get reacquainted. Sooner or later you'll simper to me, and I won't need a Whisper to persuade you. You will come to me on your own."

He pressed a slow, burning kiss onto her ear, smirking at the thought of his next words, "The first time I touch you will be because you want me to. You'll beg for me to show you sweet release. I won't ever force you because eventually your heart will out."

Pulling her away slightly, he relished in her watery gaze. The flush that began in her cheeks now bloomed on her neck and chest. He traced the edges of the necklace, flicking the empty loop where the chain usually hung, a smug grin staining his features once more.

Maven briefly wondered how his brother was faring with her. He was almost tempted to find out if she'd let the bastard touch her but thought better of it. Even if he had, Maven would make sure to erase all traces of Cal from her skin until her anatomy could only fathom his own touch. The ember flames of desire would consume Mare, he would make sure of that. And when he was done she was going to need him like an addict needed their poison of choice.

With this satisfying notion swimming in the back of his mind, he pressed his lips against her forehead, lips twitching against her skin despite himself. He wanted to kiss her, plan be damned, but he pushed the intrusive desires away. Instead, Maven pulled away from her, ignoring the stream of tears that silently glittered on her cheeks as he walked away, leaving her behind without another sparring glance. When the door closed behind him he heard her choked sob, and it only served to please him.

He knew without a doubt she cried at the truth in his words. Mare Barrow had already fallen into his web, and she would remain there until her dying day.