Daryl, wearing the same long-sleeve, button-down shirt Henry had loaned him yesterday, sat down across from Sasha, who was between Maggie and Michonne. He left an empty seat on either side of himself, to make sure Carol would have a place to sit when she got out of the kitchen. Savannah slid into the empty chair on his left and turned over the glass in front of her plate. She leaned over to Daryl and said, "Make sure I get red wine and not white. I've got to run take a piss." Then she left.

Daryl watched her leave, and when he turned back, there were three sets of female eyes staring at him from the other side of the table - Maggie's, Sasha's, and Michonne's.

Michonne grinned. "Who's your new friend?"

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "Isn't she a little young for you? A lot young?"

"How's Carol going to feel about this?" Sasha asked.

"It ain't like that!" he insisted. "She's my niece!"

Michonne blinked. "Merle's daughter?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Hadn't seen her since...well since she was eight."

"Because he took off on her?" Sasha speculated.

"Nah. Well...he took off on her mama. Merle didn't know about her. Once he did..." Daryl nodded. "He stepped up." Not that Daryl was entirely sure Merle had. He didn't know whose version of events to believe.

"Hmm..." Michonne said.

When Savannah rejoined them, Rick said, "Aren't you going to introduce us to your niece, Daryl?" so he did.

Michonne looked her over reservedly. Savanna touched her nose and cheeks. "Is there something on my face?" she asked.

"No," Michonne said. "Just trying to see the resemblance to Merle."

"You knew my dad?"

Michonne nodded.

"Were you his girlfriend?"

Michonne let out a long, low chuckle. "No."

Savannah looked at Daryl and asked, "Why's that so funny?"

"Because Merle was a racist ass," Sasha told her.

"That and he tried to kill me," Michonne added.

"Shhh!" Daryl hissed.

"It's okay," Savannah told Daryl. "You don't have to protect his image with me. I know he wasn't exactly Prince Charming. I just...with what Carol said...I thought maybe he'd changed toward the end. And he could be fun you know, sometimes. With me. When he bothered to visit." She shrugged.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Michonne told her, sounding penitent. "He may have tried to kill me once, but in the end...he did die fighting the people who were trying to kill us."

Plates and bowls were laid before them on the table, and Daryl picked up his spoon and was about to dig into the stew.

"You're supposed to wait for grace," Carol reminded him as she sat down on the other side of him in the empty chair.

Daryl put his spoon down. He was annoyed by the protocol. Even so, his lips formed a thin, almost imperceptible smile. He didn't know what it was about seeing Carol, exactly, that always made him feel...well, better. Just better.

"Glad you could join us for dinner this time," Rick told her.

King Ezekiel said grace and assumed his armchair throne, Shiva beside him. As before, everyone waited until he picked up his spoon to pick up theirs.

"He's not going to make us wash his feet, is he?" Michonne asked.

"He's not so bad," Sasha said. "He was actually surprisingly charming when I talked to him face to face."

"How'd that meetin' go?" Daryl asked her.

"He wants one of us on the Privy Council." Sasha dipped her roll into her stew. "He was impressed by how the Alexandrians sacrificed and fought during the war. He wants our input. So I volunteered."

"Did ya now?" Daryl asked.

Sasha shrugged. "Why? Were you itching to be in the inner circle?"

"Nah. Just thought ya had to be appointed. Henry said they's appointed."

"Well, I volunteered to let him appoint me," Sasha clarified.

Carl Grimes peered across the table at Savannah. His expression was a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and admiration. "Why's your hair so weird?"

"I dyed it black for awhile," Savannah answered, "but I'm letting it go back to its natural blond now. Why's your hair so weird? It's wilder than Daryl's."

Rick chuckled. "She's right, you know. You could use a haircut, son."

Carl shook his head and dipped his spoon into his bowl.

After the dinner plates were cleared, and as the coffee and dessert (peaches in heavy cream) was brought out, King Ezekiel's royal page read the evening announcements.

"You missed this part last night," Carol whispered to Daryl.

There were several "royal reminders." There would be a musical concert in the theater this Saturday at 8:30 pm. Another volunteer was needed to assist the royal launderers with the increasing workload, someone whose primary calling left him or her available on Wednesday mornings. A hand went up and King Ezekiel said, "Thank you for your service." Then a new addition to the Privy Council was announced. Sasha was asked to stand.

"The King welcomes to his council a representative of the Alexandrian refugees, Sasha Williams," the page announced. "She will be taking the place of Sir James Wilson, a valiant knight and member of the Privy Council who was sadly lost in the Battle to End All Battles."

There was a smattering of applause and Sasha, looking a combination of embarrassed and proud, sat back down.

"And now, for the delivery of rebukes," the page announced.

"Oh shit," Savannah muttered.

"Rebukes?" Rick asked.

"Daryl Dixon. Savannah Pettigrew. Please rise," the page read.

Carol shot a bewildered look at Daryl.

Savannah sighed and stood up in front of her chair. She gestured to Daryl to stand up. He shook his head. No fucking way he was going to subject himself to this bullshit, whatever it was. "Come on," Savannah hissed. "You don't want to end up with two rebukes."

Gritting his teeth together tightly, Daryl stood. So did King Ezekiel. He put a hand on Shiva's head and scratched behind the tiger's ears. "These two subjects," King Ezekiel boomed, "left the gates this afternoon on an unscheduled outing." There was a deathly silence in the banquet hall. "They did not obey the rule of three. They evaded the palace guards, and thereby put themselves at risk of death. We hope this rebuke shall serve as a reminder to all that the rules are in place for your own safety and for the safety of the Kingdom. The Kingdom's greatest resources are its people. We do not wish to lose a single one of you." He bowed his head in Daryl and Savannah's direction. "You may be seated."

Savannah sat down, but Daryl remained standing, his eyes locked with King Ezekiel's in anger. He felt like he had in elementary school, when that bitch of a third grade teacher made him stand with his nose in the corner because he said shit when he broke his pencil.

"Daryl, sit down," Savannah hissed. "Please." She tugged on his hand.

Daryl's nostrils flared as he slid into his seat.

"What the hell was that?" Rick asked.

"That's some shit I ain't never puttin' up with again, is what that is," Daryl muttered. He shoved back his chair and stormed out of the banquet hall.

[*]

Carol talked to the kitchen servants, told them she was feeling ill, and left her assistant in charge of overseeing the clean-up. Her footfalls echoing through the halls, she headed quickly toward the apartment. Daryl's angry departure worried her.

As she was climbing the stairs to the third floor, he thundered down them, his crossbow and pack on his back.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he passed her.

"Anywhere but here." He clomped down the next four stairs.

"Daryl! Stop!"

He did. She watched his back heave up and down with his sigh.

"Daryl," she said softly. "Don't do this." How many times had she lost him now? She couldn't lose him again. "Please don't go."

He turned slowly around. "I cain't live like this. Havin' to ask permission to take a piss."

"You're exaggerating."

"I ain't in fuckin' grade school!"

"I understand rebukes are embarrassing, but almost everyone has had at least one, and - "

"- Why do ya put up with this shit?" he practically shouted. "What happened to the Carol I knew?"

He didn't understand, and it pained her that he didn't. Maybe he couldn't understand the change upon change she'd gone through and what a relief it was to be the person she could finally be here.

Carol descended the steps between them and stopped when she was one step higher than him, which brought her eyes level with his. "The Carol you knew? Which Carol was that?"

Daryl's lips remained tightly closed.

"The Carol who took her husband's blows?" she asked. "The Carol who hacked his corpse to pieces? The Carol who watched her undead daughter lurch out of a barn after praying and hoping and hoping and praying in vain?"

Daryl swallowed.

"The Carol who outlived Shane and Dale and lost the farm? The Carol who outlived Andrea and T-Dog and Patrick and Hershel? The Carol who killed Karen and David and still lost the prison?" She was speaking faster now, her voice quivering. "The Carol who shot Lizzie in the back of the head because that little girl was sick and had killed her own baby sister, thinking Mika would just be changed?" It was hard to look in Daryl's eyes when she admitted that, but she did, and she saw the shock in them, mingled with sympathy and pain. "The Carol who's killed so many people that she finally stopped counting? The Carol who's nearly died a dozen times and yet outlived so many friends - Beth, Tyrese, Rosita, Abraham, Glenn – "

" – Stop!" Daryl shouted. He lowered his voice and hoarsely whispered, "Stop."

"I can't do it anymore, Daryl. I can't. The death, the killing, the suffering, the losing. I can't do it anymore, and here I don't have to. If all I have to do to escape that horror is follow a few fairly reasonable rules and call some bizarre man King, I'm going to swallow my pride and do it. But if you can't – if you can't swallow your pride long enough to see anything worth staying here for - anything at all – anyone at all…then go on. Walk out."

She turned and marched up the stairs.