[A/N: So I said I pretty much only write ASoIaF fics. I lied. Here's some Rule 63 Les Mis inspired by Tumblr. R&R and enjoy!]

The first time you meet her, you wonder if you've discovered a weary Ruth or a gracious Magdalene and find you cannot breathe.

Madame la Maire is not beautiful. Her frame is too small and hard, her hair too wild even in it's bun. There is a curved scar trailing from her left hand up to her sleeve, and you find yourself wanting to hit the one who gave it to her.

You see her every day as you cross the street near the bakery on your way home. Your heart always quickens at her gentle nod, but you simply take it as a craving for another cigarette and stride on, unwilling to think.

There is a ship you pass by each morning on your way to the office that reminds you of Madame la Maire. It's a small thing, pathetically bobbing in the waves, marked by unknowable cuts. Yet somehow, its elegance is undeniable (at least to you).

One day on break, you go to buy bread and she is there, her shawl a shroud around neat shoulders. She invites you to dinner and later you grimace at your fool's assent.

Madame la Maire has secrets. Her money is her husband's, she says with little prompting, who died while abroad. Her eyes are too furtive, her manner too calm to suit them. After years as an inspector, you know how to detect lies in a face, and you resolve to disperse them as though you would undress her.

Her kiss goodbye and offer of tea on Sunday is all you need think about later to come undone, shaking with bonelessness and disgust.

It is not until she shows up in the stars over the sea, her unfashionably wide skirts and cinched waist calling your eyes, that you realize you love (love? or hate?) this woman and find a laugh for the darkness.