This story was originally published by PHYSCHOCHIC3 (and called The Wild King's Wife) in the X-Men FanFiction universe. I loved it so much, I wanted to create a Walking Dead version of it since I will not have time to complete my own stories this year.
The story includes historical places and names, but is not historically correct.
As mentioned, the story and the rights belong to PHYSCHOCHIC3. And, for my own peace of mind, I will not be responding to comments or feedback - both good and bad; you can refer to A Biker and a Babe if you want to know why.
Michonne sat sidesaddle on her grey mare and tried not to cry. She was to be married to the newly throned 'The Wild King' – a man she did not know nor love - in a fortnight. She mourned the loss of her home and her kingdom silently, the wedding procession resembling more of a funeral than the historical and important event that it was to be.
. . .
Olivier III of Évreux, her father and the elderly King of the Franks, had agreed to marry her eldest daughter to the new King, Lord Richard I of Ireland and England in the year of our Lord, 3 January 1222, in order to bring peace to both countries. France and Britain had been at war for years with casualties reaching the thousands. There were no longer enough men to fight and no more allies to sway with gold and silk and gunpowder from Asia to continue this useless bloodbath.
Olivier III and Lord Richard I had met on Richard's ship in the English Channel – right in the midst of battlefield – to discuss the ways in which both their countries could live peacefully or amicably without the threat of possible war. However, Olivier III had not expected Richard I to ask for his eldest daughter's hand in marriage.
"Impossible!" Olivier yelled, which caused his soldiers to stand on guard; they were not used to him yelling and were preparing themselves. "She is the heir to the throne of France."
Richard laughed, but remained seated. He bit into his red apple and repeated himself. "She has a sister, does she not?"
"Princess Lorraine is not fit to rule France. She-"
"Is a spoiled brat." Richard interrupted. "I am not asking you for her hand, I am telling you that she will become my wife." He took another bite and finished chewing before he continued. "You speak of peace, but you hesitate the moment I offer it." He stood and paced the room. "You stand no chance against the British Navy, none. Your closest ally refuses to help you in your time of need while I have three isles ready at my disposal." He approached the elder King, "Give me your daughter and I give you peace."
Olivier sat numbly, he was torn. He wanted peace, but at what cost. Eventually Michonne would have to get married and the choice would come down to Richard of Ireland and England as the most suitable match. He sighed and Richard smiled.
"I think we have come to an agreement then, yes?" Richard smirked.
"Yes."
"Good. The wedding shall take place at the new moon in Wexford." He said nothing more and left the French King and his men alone. Olivier did not know how he was to tell his daughter that she was to be married three years ahead of time and to The Wild King no less. Richard had not yelled or gotten angry during the meeting, but he had made himself clear and Olivier was too old to fight. Those days were long gone.
He sighed and stood. "Which one of you will accompany me to my grave?" He said, looking at his men who all seemed to find sudden interest in the plain walls of the British ship's office. "I see."
. . .
Olivier watched as his daughters laughed and sang to another in his late wife's garden. It was their sanctuary from the rest of the world, a place where they could just be girls – be like everyone else.
Richard approached the two beautiful women, both of different origins, with a sad look on his face. Lorraine noticed him first.
"Papa's here!" She shouted as she ran towards him. He had been gone for a fortnight, on a mission to bring peace to England and France. Michonne turned to face him and smiled. He remembered the day he found her in the streets of Paris, he was still young and not yet king. Her hair had been matted from lack of care and her skin, broken from her time in the cold. He had taken her in and despite protest from his mother and father – the King and Queen of France – had raised her like his own. He did not know why he did it, but he was glad he did, it resulted in a beautiful young woman who cherished everything and everyone around her.
Michonne got up and ran to her father who's arms were locked around Lorraine, his biological daughter.
"How was it?" Lorraine asked. "Did you bring any soldiers back? Did you kill anybody?"
"Lorraine, please calm down." Michonne said.
His daughters were three years apart. Lorraine was born after his father abdicated the throne. His wife, Princess Simone de Bourbon had given birth the same year he had been crowned King. However, both soon decided that if anything were to happen, Michonne would be Queen and Lorraine, would become Countess of Valois.
"It brings me no greater joy than to see you two." He kissed them both.
Michonne, immediately sensing something was wrong, let go of his hand. "What's wrong, Papa?"
He sighed and lead them to the fountain where they could sit in privacy. "I must tell you something, the both of you." The two princesses sat on either side of their father and listened intently. "You are to be married, Michonne."
"Married?" Michonne exclaimed. "To who?"
"To Lord Richard I of Ireland and England… In a fortnight."
Michonne let go of his hand and stood up. Lorraine sat quietly. "The Wild King?" He nodded. Michonne dropped to her knees and grasped his cloak. "You must stop this! You must!"
"I cannot."
"Please Papa, do not make me do this." She said, with tears in her eyes. "I cannot be forced to do this."
"I have no choice, he gave me no choice."
"What do you mean he gave you no choice?" Lorraine asked. "What did you do?"
"I did nothing, he told me that he would take Michonne as his wife or continue to wage war against France."
"Peace is more important than your daughter's life?" Michonne cried.
"When I am losing men by the hundreds, yes!" He yelled. Michonne looked up at him shocked. She wiped her tears and stood.
"I will never forgive you for this." She picked up her skirts and ran towards the garden entrance and to her bedroom.
"I suppose you hate me too now." He said as he looked at his youngest with sad eyes.
"I do not hate you, Papa." She said as he smiled a small smile. "I shall talk to her."
"Thank you, darling." He said as he kissed her head.
Lorraine stood up and bid her father goodnight. She made her way to Michonne's room with no intent of sparing her soothing words or embraces.
. . .
"I hear that Lord Richard is a passionate lover." Lorraine said as she brushed her luscious brown hair with Michonne's large brush.
"I do not care!" Michonne said as she wiped the tears that had not stopped falling. "This is my home, this is where I belong."
"Perhaps father should have chosen me in your place." She said as she applied lavender oil to the back of her ears. Michonne had not reacted to Lorraine's statement, but instead sunk further into her bed. Michonne licked her dry lips and stared at the ceiling above her.
"Perhaps." Was all she said as she heard the door slam shut.
. . .
Lorraine stalked to her room, her father, the King of France, had chosen his illegitimate daughter once again. First, Michonne was to be the future Queen of France and now, she was to be the future Queen of England and Ireland while Lorraine remained a princess and a Countess.
. . .
After a few more tears were shed, Michonne made her way back to the garden to reflect. Unfortunately, she did not get the peace and quiet she deserved as Michel d'Orléans made his way to her.
"Good evening, Princess." He said as he kissed her hand.
"Good evening, Michel." She replied, plainly.
"I heard the news of your betrothal to Lord Richard I of Ireland and England."
"Yes, it is to happen in a fortnight." Michonne attempted to say, but her voice broke. Michel was quick to break protocol and hold her.
"I have asked your father to accompany you to Ireland; I vowed to protect you." He said as he kissed her dark brown and curly mane.
She sighed and pushed him away. "Sadly, even with your good and solid comfort and protection, it cannot last forever for one day you will go back to France and to Lorraine's arms." Michel de Bourbon stood speechless. He had not told anyone of his affairs with Lorraine and she had vowed not to speech to her sister about it. "I know about you and her, Michel, but for familiarity's sake, I will allow you to accompany me to Ireland."