Look, I tried incredibly hard not to ship these two, but I am weak. John and Susanna apparently created a backstory for them that involved romance, so this is my take on that, and I am dedicating this to Grace because I made her ship them simply by screaming to her about them and letting her read this as I was writing it.
They said old habits die hard.
Moira Queen had seen the phrase used to excuse many things in her lifetime. She'd seen it when her mother refused to stop smoking until it finally killed her. She'd seen it when her father held onto his penchant for alcohol until his liver gave up, and he too died. She'd seen it when she discovered her first husband's affinity for young, pretty women he always swore to her meant nothing, women he always went back to after a mere month or two of faithfulness to her.
She found it pathetic. The saying was nothing but an excuse to avoid responsibility. Moira believed with enough drive and determination, one could overcome anything. A refusal to give up a vice was not an old habit dying hard. It was weakness.
At least, that was what she thought before Malcolm Merlyn came into her life.
In the beginning, he'd simply been her husband's best friend. But over the years, he'd become her friend. He comforted her every time she discovered yet another of Robert's infidelities, and she did the same for him whenever his wife was being particularly hard on him about his late hours at the office. They were there for one another when there was no one else, and in time, their relationship blossomed into something far deeper than friends.
The first time they fell into bed together, she avoided him for weeks after, the guilt of stooping to her husband's level practically eating her alive. She stuck close to Robert's side like she hadn't in years, never allowing herself to be alone with Malcolm. During those weeks, she almost managed to convince herself that it had been a one time occurrence, a moment of loneliness in which she had allowed herself to be weak for a few hours. Once she spent some time with Robert, she told herself things would return to how they should be.
Hardly a month had passed since that night when Robert announced he was leaving for a three month business trip. They fought about it for hours until Oliver returned home from school, and Moira had ignored her husband in favor of doting on her son. She didn't speak to Robert for the rest of that night, and when she woke the next morning, he'd already left.
She did her best to continue avoiding Malcolm to the best of her ability, but after a month, she simply couldn't any longer. Merlyn Global Group was throwing a party that had been in planning for months, a party at which Robert had long since promised Queen Consolidated's presence. With him out of town, it fell on Moira to show up and play the diligent and devoted business partner.
After the initial polite society greeting, she had managed to hide in the crowd for nearly two hours before he cornered her in one of the many winding hallways of his company. She could tell he was hurt by her avoidance, and it only made her feel worse as she tried to explain that they'd made a mistake. The look in his eyes as he'd nodded his understanding had nearly broken her heart. They'd agreed to remain friends and returned to the party, a heaviness surrounding both of them for the remainder of the evening. They tried to continue the friendship they'd had before their slip up after the party, but there was now an ever present shadow over their every interaction. Nothing felt the same, and slowly they began to drift back to being the simple business associates they had once been. Moira was certain their connection was gone forever, leaving her feeling more alone than ever before.
Two months later, Robert returned on a Monday morning with lipstick on his collar, and she found the connection restored as she let Malcolm bend her over his desk late that same night.
From that moment on, Moira felt like she finally understood her parents and her husband. Malcolm was like her own personal brand of drugs. She craved him in ways she'd never craved Robert. His lips on hers. His hands on her body. It almost scared her how much she constantly wanted him. There were nights she told herself they needed to stop, that Robert and Rebecca didn't deserve their infidelity. But then he would put his hand on her cheek. He would brush his lips against hers. He would whisper promises to give her the world, and every doubt she had would disappear.
She should've known things could never remain so easy.
A year after their official affair began, Moira heard the news of Rebecca Merlyn's death on Channel 6. She called Malcolm as soon as the words were out of the news anchor's mouth, receiving no answer. She tried several more times with the same result, worry and guilt beginning to gnaw at her. She knew where Malcolm had been the previous night when his wife had been bleeding on the ground in the Glades. He had been with her, ignoring the three calls Rebecca had attempted to make to him before he'd shut his phone off and tossed it on her bedside table.
A part of her wondered if perhaps he was having the same thought wherever he was. If guilt was slowly filling his body, making him feel cold and as though he could no longer breathe properly the way it was doing to her.
She wasn't certain of how long she simply stood in the middle of her living room, the sounds of the television nothing but a dull buzz in her ears, only that Robert was suddenly in front of her. She barely registered him asking if she'd heard, if she'd spoken to Malcolm, only capable of absently nodding to one question and shaking her head to the other. Nothing felt real as her husband gently guided her to sit, as he told her their friend had been notified and was doing as well as could be expected. Her guilt and worry returned, stronger now, as Robert spoke, the words not quite registering in her mind and instead blurring together into unintelligible droning. Nothing he could say would make the situation any better, nor would it erase the feeling that she was partly to blame. All she wanted was to speak to Malcolm, attempting one more fruitless call once her husband finally left her to grieve in peace.
She only hoped he wouldn't let the news destroy him.
Weeks passed before she saw him again. The Queen family's yearly Christmas party was the event of the year, so truly it shouldn't have been a surprise when Moira walked downstairs in her simple, elegant red dress only to find Malcolm standing in the living room, mingling with Robert and a few other business associates. To her credit, she didn't let her shock at seeing him color her features. Instead, she did what she did best, playing the gracious hostess and putting on the same show she had been putting on for years now, pretending she didn't see Robert's wandering eyes and even further wandering hands on a new young associate.
She wasn't sure whether to be surprised or elated when Malcolm yanked her into the nearest guest room. There were no gentle caresses or easy rhythms like their other encounters, but if she was being honest, she wasn't sure either of them really needed easy or gentle in that moment. By the time they were done, however, she didn't know if she felt better or worse. She only knew that everything suddenly felt different. Her body didn't feel sated, her mind didn't feel calm, and her heart didn't feel warm. Instead, she only felt the same cold, encompassing guilt she had felt for weeks. Neither of them said a word as they righted their clothes, and by the time the party was over just a few short hours later, Malcolm was gone, and Moira felt a sinking feeling things had changed forever.
Six weeks later with no contact from him, she realized the feeling was right as she stared at the three positive pregnancy tests in her hand.
Getting pregnant had never even crossed her mind. Their affair had been a long haze of nights that seemed to pass within minutes and hurried encounters in spots most people would consider too exposed to be worth the risk. They had never bothered with condoms, and she hadn't been on birth control at Robert's insistence. He had always wanted another child, but after Oliver had been born, it seemed as though her body rejected the idea of another pregnancy. She'd had three miscarriages before telling her husband outright that she was finished trying. In the back of her mind, she knew that was his excuse for his own extramarital activities, the ultimatum she'd issued of their never again sharing a bed in the most intimate sense without her being on birth control driving him away from her and to other women out of what could only call spite.
Nevertheless, getting her husband to believe the baby she was carrying belonged to him was far easier than she could've ever anticipated. He had overindulged in alcohol the night of the party and attempted to drunkenly seduce her more than once. In reality, she had rejected each advance. In the story she spun for him when she announced her pregnancy, however, she had been just as drunk and just as willing, culminating in the first shared bout of intimacy in their marriage in years. He was overjoyed while she did her best to mirror his excitement, guilt and a new anxiety bubbling behind the mask she put on as they sat Oliver down to inform him he would soon have a new brother or sister.
Everything from that point forward felt surreal. Another party was thrown to announce the news to their closest friends and associates, at which Moira discovered Malcolm had left on an indefinite business trip the day after their last night together. She'd fallen into autopilot as soon as the words were out of Robert's mouth while he spoke with some of his investors. The rest of the night had been a blur, her body acting on autopilot as she accepted congratulations and hopeful well wishes.
The very next morning, she had gone to the Merlyn Manor and collected little Tommy despite his nanny's protests. With no indication of how long Malcolm would be gone, she simply didn't feel right letting his son remain at home with only the nanny to care for him. At merely eight years old, the boy still needed parents, and if his father wasn't going to put his grief aside in order to care for his son, she would do it for him. She'd assumed it would only be necessary for a short while, choosing to believe the elder Merlyn would never leave his son behind for longer than a few days without a phone call at the very least. But soon, the days turned into the weeks, and the weeks faded into months, during which Moira's pregnancy progressed without complication. By the time a year had passed without a word from Malcolm, she'd given birth to a beautiful baby girl.
After Thea was born, the second year seemed to pass in a blur. Her concern grew with each day that passed, but with two rambunctious little boys and a newborn in her care, Moira had very little time to focus on missing him. Sometimes she even thought it was for the best. She'd allowed herself to indulge in him for far too long, and his absence was the perfect way to force herself to give him up for good.
Then again, luck had never been on her side.
Two years and one month had passed since Malcolm's departure from Starling City when there was a knock on the door of the Queen home. Moira thought nothing of it, assuming some associate needed her signature on some document or other while Robert was also out of town. She wasn't expecting to come face to face with the man she'd been desperately trying to forget when she opened the door.
For a moment, all she could do was stare, almost certain she had to be dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating. But no matter how long she looked at him, the image remained the same. Malcolm Merlyn stood in her doorway, looking every bit the same as the last time she'd seen him. However, instead of the relief she had thought she'd feel upon seeing him, seemingly unchanged and unscathed, all Moira felt was a crushing sense of dread as one year old Thea ran into the room and crashed into her mother's legs.
Her little girl was so innocent, looking up and blinking in curiosity at the stranger in her doorway before taking off into another room with the joyful shriek of a child unburdened by the complications of the world. Looking at Malcolm, all she could do was give a subtle shake of her head to the question he wouldn't ask. There had been days she'd wondered if she'd tell him the truth when he returned, but standing in front of her now was not the man she'd known two years earlier. His eyes no longer held the gentle warmth he'd always had when he looked at her. Instead, all she saw was something dark and cold, something that scared her.
Once he'd collected Tommy and left, Moira had cradled Thea in her arms for as long as the girl would allow, vowing to herself that she would truly be done with Malcolm from that day forward. Her daughter's true paternity wasn't a secret she was willing to risk, and seeing the change in him made it easier to discipline herself. Her children were her priority now, no matter how badly she still wanted him.
Cutting herself off was even more difficult than she had anticipated. It seemed that the more she tried to distance herself, the more she saw him. She had known she couldn't realistically avoid him forever, instead choosing to simply force herself to revert back to the relationship they'd held when he was simply Robert's best friend. It had soon become clear, however, that she had severely underestimated just how deeply her want for him ran even after the two years they had spent apart. Every time she saw him, she imagined how it would feel to drag him into the nearest closet or guest room like old times, soon after wondering if she would ever manage to stop having those thoughts.
She received her answer with Robert's revelation of the Undertaking. As her husband told her everything he knew of Malcolm's plan, Moira was forced to accept that the man she'd known was truly gone, replaced by someone dark, cold, and bitter. Somehow, it made letting him go both easier and much harder. Nevertheless, she forced herself to stick to her vow, curbing her loneliness by taking care of her children and occasionally overindulging in her favorite wine.
It worked for a while. The years passed, albeit slowly, and with each one, her craving for Malcolm diminished. The more she saw of his new depraved, vengeful persona, the easier it was to play the part she'd designed to keep him at arm's length. There were some days she could almost forget how deeply their connection had run.
Then came the day she was told the Queen's Gambit had gone down with her husband and son on board. She'd tried to keep it together for Thea, but as soon as her daughter had locked herself in her room, her resolve shattered, and she found herself knocking on Malcolm's front door at nearly midnight that night.
She'd barely gotten the news out of her mouth before he was yanking her inside and pressing her against the door.
Her craving came back in full force as she spent hours letting him have her against every flat surface in sight. By the time she finally left and made it back home, the sun was rising, and she was able to pass out from sheer exhaustion, carefully not allowing herself to think about the looming feeling that she'd just sold her soul.
For awhile, they ended up back in their old patterns. Very few nights passed that didn't end with her in his bed or him in hers. The feeling that her soul was slowly being shattered never diminished, in fact only worsening with each encounter. She never felt whole like she once had after a night with Malcolm. Nevertheless, she often chose to ignore the unsatisfying feelings in favor of temporarily lessening the pain of her husband and son being gone.
It worked for a mere few months before the other shoe dropped once again.
She'd known about the Undertaking for years, of course, but she had been certain Malcolm had never been aware of her knowledge of his plans. That is, until the day he'd sat her down in his office and told her the truth about the Queen's Gambit. Shock was not a new emotion in Moira's life by any means, but hearing from his own mouth that Malcolm had planted a bomb on her husband's boat took the feeling to a new level.
This was not the man she'd known for nearly twenty years, the man she once would've admitted to loving , even if only to herself. This was someone entirely different. Someone who gave no thought to how other people felt, who didn't care about taking innocent lives to achieve his goals. With each word he spoke, fear settled further and further in her heart until it nearly stopped when he asked her to take Robert's place in his plan.
There were so many things she wanted to do. She wanted to tell him he was insane. She wanted to scream, throw things, ask him how he could be so unrepentant when he had murdered his best friend and her son. She wanted to run, as fast and as far from Merlyn Global as she could, go to the police, and tell them everything.
But she couldn't. And in the back of her mind, she considered that maybe that was why he'd asked her in the first place. Telling her about the bomb had been a fear tactic. It had made her wonder if he would be willing to harm her or her daughter the way he'd carelessly killed her husband and son, leaving her with only one option: to say yes.
Leaving his office that afternoon, Moira felt as though she had hit a low she hadn't been aware existed. She slowly began to distance herself from Malcolm once again, unsure if she was relieved or heartbroken when he barely seemed to notice. She was spiraling, falling deeper and deeper into the depressive self destruction she'd desperately been trying to avoid in the last year. Thea was just as lost as she was, and yet, she couldn't even bring herself to get it together for her daughter, not when all she saw when she looked at her was Malcolm.
And then came Walter.
Walter, who was so different from every man she'd ever known, who made her feel as though maybe she could be whole again. He saved her without knowing precisely what he was saving her from, despite her reluctance to give in to him. Giving Malcolm another way to manipulate her was the last thing she wanted, but she was drowning, and Walter was the air she needed to keep from giving in to the temptation to simply close her eyes and let the water pull her under for good.
Her newfound fear of Malcolm, and her love for Walter stamped out her craving, and within another year, Moira Queen became Moira Steele.
After she married Walter, she was certain she had kicked her habit for good. She felt nothing when she looked at Malcolm, and she hardly ever thought about him even when she was alone. She finally felt as though her life was back to normal. Her marriage was happier and healthier than her relationship with Robert had been, and Thea seemed as though having a father figure had brought her out of her self imposed isolation as well.
She wondered at times if her marriage would last if Walter ever found out the things she did to protect him and Thea. She knew he loved her, far more than Robert ever could have, but she also knew sometimes love simply wasn't enough. She had given everything she had to Malcolm and still ended up shattered seemingly beyond repair. It had made her wary of hope, as hope was fleeting and often fragile.
Three years later, Oliver returned, alive and physically unharmed, and everything began to fall apart once more.
When the hooded vigilante appeared in Starling City and began targeting individuals on the list, Moira had known it was only a matter of time before Malcolm grew impatient. She didn't know who this man, this Hood as the citizens had dubbed him, was, but the compassionate part of her hoped he knew what was coming for him. However, he was not her concern. She had no control over a hooded archer prowling in the night.
Her concern lied with her husband. The two million dollars taken from the company had been an oversight on her part, something she'd foolishly believed Walter would simply take her word for and let go of. She hadn't counted on his becoming suspicious and turning to Felicity Smoak to investigate.
Malcolm had been furious when he'd found out she'd had the Queen's Gambit salvaged, and rightfully so if she were being honest with herself. It hadn't been part of his plan but rather something Moira had done for herself. Nevertheless, he'd blamed Walter more than her, and she'd taken his warning to get her husband under control to heart. Losing one husband, no matter his faults, had been hard enough. She refused to lose another.
When her pleading for him to stop digging into Tempest had led to her husband leaving on an indefinite business trip, she had felt that familiar feeling trying to spread through her.
It was jarring, the way she could so quickly go from being absolutely certain in her love for Walter to wondering how it would feel to be with Malcolm again. Throughout Walter's time away, she did her best to push that wonder back down, to remind herself that the man she'd known was long gone. It became harder and harder with each day, despite the frequent meetings to discuss the Undertaking.
Luckily for her, Walter returned home just as her resolve had been about to break.
Another few months passed without much more than the usual hassle. The vigilante remained the biggest thorn in Malcolm's side, taking some of the heat off of her husband. Before she knew it, December had arrived, and with Oliver in a sudden Christmas spirit, she'd thought that for once they would be able to have a normal, family holiday like they had when Robert was alive. She and Walter were back in a good place, and Oliver and Thea were both doing marginally better than they had in months. All she needed was for Malcolm to take a break from his crusade for just a few days.
She'd known it had been too much to hope for. Walter's continuous digging into her secrets had put Malcolm on edge, and no matter what she said to either of them, neither would give up. Her husband was getting far too close to uncovering the details of the Undertaking, leaving her with no choice but to accept when Malcolm came to her with the offer to have him abducted until after the plan had gone through. It hadn't been her first choice, nor did she think it was going to end well for her marriage or Malcolm, but she'd been at her wits end. She didn't know what would happen once the Undertaking had taken place, but she knew she would prefer her husband alive and angry than dead because she'd been too selfish to send him away.
The first few weeks were harder than she'd expected, far more so than when Robert had died. She spent most of her time in their bedroom, guilt practically consuming her as her favorite photos of her husband seemed to stare at her from every corner of the room. Logically, she knew Walter was likely just fine, albeit confused and rightfully angry. She also knew, however, that she trusted Malcolm about as far as she could throw him, leaving her with doubts as to whether he would stick to his promise that her husband would remain unharmed.
Despite her misgivings, she couldn't stay in her room forever. Oliver and Thea, despite their ages, still needed her, as did Queen Consolidated. Her life had to keep moving, and the quicker she allowed it to do so, the quicker she would be able to get Walter back. As much as she wished she could block out the world and everything she was doing wrong, it was that thought that pushed her forward.
Malcolm continued to be a problem for her, in more ways than one. It seemed as though every day he had a new task for her, something to drag her further and further into his plans despite how hard she was trying to remain as far from the center as possible. He always knew exactly what to do or say to manipulate her, to keep her from distancing herself. It was never anything bold or obvious, always small and subtle, yet effective. Sometimes it was a simple shift from his normal business tone to something he'd used when they'd been in bed together or a look she remembered him constantly giving her from across crowded parties, and others it was his hand falling into spots that were far too strategic to be coincidental.
It was no wonder Thea thought they were having an affair.
Nevertheless, she refused to give in. She had given him up for a reason, and neither loneliness nor the foreboding feeling that her marriage was going to deteriorate very quickly when Walter returned was going to change her decision. Once the Undertaking was over, it would be easier to move on. There would be no more clandestine meetings or drawn out phone calls to mess with her mind, and she could finally let him go the way she'd managed to convince herself she had years ago.
Focusing on Queen Consolidated was her best option. It allowed her to carry out her part in the Undertaking while still keeping her distance from Malcolm when it wasn't absolutely necessary to meet in person. If she put all of her time into the company, the months would pass in a blur, and before she knew it, her husband would be home.
It almost amazed her how proficient she'd become in lying to herself.
The months passed far slower than they should have, leaving Moira with nothing to do but continue to worry. She had little to no knowledge of Walter's condition, and Malcolm was less than forthcoming with reassurances, as she expected. Both Thea and Oliver were growing concerned, and in her daughter's case, angry , with her perceived lack of grief after three months, and she didn't quite know how to tell them she had been on the verge of a breakdown for weeks.
When Walter finally came home, albeit ahead of Malcolm's schedule, she let herself hope things may actually turn out alright. He was safe and seemed happy enough to see her, something she didn't take for granted in the slightest. For the first couple of days, despite her tentative hope, she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. She had expected anger, or at the very least the questions she had promised to answer before he'd been taken, yet Walter was simply aloof towards her. Sometimes it felt like he was still away, the distance he put between them understandable but hurtful nonetheless.
In retrospect, she realized she should've expected the divorce papers he handed her merely two weeks after his return.
She did her best to stick to her resolve after he moved out. With the divorce came his resignation from Queen Consolidated, leaving her with the choice to maintain her temporary position as CEO on a more permanent basis or hand the position over to another employee of the company. It was tempting to choose the latter, to allow someone else to run things while she hid in her bedroom and tried to pretend her life wasn't falling apart all around her. But there was still work to be done, and the world was going to move on with or without her.
It was easier than expected to go on once she accepted the position. She missed Walter, of course, but it felt just as it had while he'd been away, the only difference being she now knew his whereabouts and that he was safe. She had gotten so used to being without him that it didn't quite hurt so much, and she almost hated herself for it.
Though not quite as much as she hated that her resolve was slipping once again.
Without the promise of her husband returning to her, the voice in the back of her mind that was tasked with reminding her why letting Malcolm back into her life was an awful idea had begun to grow quieter and quieter. Nearly every meeting, whether they were alone or with the other members of the Undertaking's plans, ended with her lingering behind even after business was done. She made up various excuses each time, but it was clear he saw through every lie she tried to tell. All he had to do was fix her with that damn smirk of his, and she'd get so flustered that she would force herself to leave.
That became a little harder when he started inventing his own excuses to be alone with her. One on one meetings became more and more frequent. His voice had somewhat permanently shifted to that low gravelly tone that never failed to drive her crazy, and it was becoming more difficult for her to restrain herself.
By the time he showed up unannounced in her bedroom one night while Oliver and Thea were out, she had all but given up on trying to resist him any longer. Within minutes, her dress was on the floor, and he had her pushed against the edge of her vanity. His hands were warm against her skin as he explored her body, and his lips fit just as perfectly against hers as she remembered. It hardly registered when he lifted his arm behind her to sweep the contents of the vanity away so he could lift her onto it, the photo of herself and Walter that she kept there crashing to the ground first with the distinguishing sound of the glass shattering.
For a few seconds, something in the back of her mind whispered that he'd made sure the picture fell first on purpose. That he was mocking her for having thought her second marriage could erase her desire for him. The next moment, he was inside of her, and she could think of nothing else but him.
It seemed that even for Moira Queen, old habits did indeed die hard.
I know I left out a good bit of the middle of season 1 there, as well as the very end of it, and I didn't even touch on season 2, but honestly, I hadn't finished season 2 yet when I wrote this, and I had genuinely forgotten parts of season 1 lmao. Anyways, feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think!