A/N: Well now, this is the part where I sheepishly come crawling out from under a rock and beg y'all to forgive me for going MIA the past seven months. I genuinely apologize for the extended wait, it was certainly never my intention to leave you guys hanging like that, but life has other plans sometimes. I did, however, promise that I would finish this story and I am no less committed to that promise than the day I made it. Without further delay, thank you so much for reading, and your comments are always appreciated.
A light breeze sends the curtains softly billowing and cools the flush of my skin as I look out the window of Molly's and my room. I've been the sole occupant for the past few days since they've got her doped out of her wits in the infirmary, and the solitude is surprisingly maddening.
I don't get this place in the fucking slightest. There are no schedules, no overseers, no leaders breathing down everyone's necks. How the hell these people get a damn thing done is beyond me. My own slothfulness has my insides knotted, waiting for the moment I'll be refused a meal, or reprimanded, but I've yet to be told where I ought to contribute. Maybe I'm just losing it but even the very calluses on my hands seem to be softening here.
The lightheartedness of the community is off-putting to me. Men, women, and children all seem to mosey about The Kingdom as if there's nothing to fear, as if they have no knowledge of the danger that lurks everywhere. Yes, even within the decently constructed walls around their renovated high school. Where are the pinched, sweat covered brows, the lines of people at the commissary or dining hall praying they have enough points to provide sustenance for the day, or the ever present groanings from the dead as a constant reminder of the state of our world? Instead there are frilly curtains, wind chimes tinkling where they hang above the porch, and four part choirs harmonizing in the gazebo. I'm lost here. I might be inside the walls, but I'm an outsider. And one they certainly wouldn't welcome if they knew who I really was, or the paternal heritage of my unborn child.
Holy shit! The soft rap of knuckles on wood nearly makes me go into labor as it tears me from my thoughts. I haven't relaxed for a second. It would be foolish to even consider it. "Who is it?" I call out through the door.
"It's Jerry, from the King's council," A deep, pleasant voice replies. "Will you grant me permission to enter your accommodations?"
I'll grant you permission to stop with the Shakespeare in the park bullshit. "Uh, sure." If he were an official at Sanctuary, my door probably would've been kicked in already. I open the door for him but he doesn't actually enter my room, rather hunkering his large body jovially around his medieval battle ax as he smiles down at me.
"Upon request of the King," He begins with chest puffed out and chin raised high, "I am here to escort you to an audience with His Majesty."
Evidently my blank expression conveys my confusion. My muscles stiffen. No one mentioned anything about spending time with the King before.
Jerry's posture deflates, and his dimples crease with a less formal smile."King Ezekiel would like to meet you. He figured he'd give you your space for a couple days, let you get settled in a bit, but he likes to meet with the newbies."
"Like some sort of admissions process?"
"Nah," he chuckles, shaking his head. "It's nothing like that. Just a welcome wagon type deal. Come on!" He waves me to follow.
The man is considerate enough to move at my slow pace. Days sleeping on concrete in that warehouse did nothing for the integrity of my body, which is already being taxed by this pregnancy as it is. His arm extends, pointing me inside the building as he holds open the door.
The musty smell of mothballs and sawdust wafting up as I step into the auditorium brings back humiliating memories of my stint as an aspiring actress in middle school theater. I forgot my lines, threw up on stage, and stepped out of the spotlight permanently. The uncomfortable nostalgia seems appropriate as Jerry rushes ahead to take a place on stage amongst a small crowd of what I can only assume is The King's Council. I feel the metaphorical spotlight burning in the heat of my cheeks as all the attention turns on me.
I'm fairly certain my eyes double in size. I must've mistakenly hopped the train to crazy town, or something because… I rub my eyes in disbelief before taking another look.
My reaction must be par for the course, judging by the knowing smirk on the King's face. "Her name is Shiva," Ezekiel projects across the auditorium. "Welcome, Rori."
And I thought a leader weilding a fucking anthropomorphized baseball bat was wild.
My heart pounds, and my feet feel cemented in place. Everything about this meeting feels wrong. Being summoned in front of a council without warning like this, or even the knowledge that such a request would be made doesn't sit well with me.
Ezekiel sits forward on his throne, his features painted with faint amusement. "Take heart, fair maiden. You have no cause for apprehension in her presence. If you please, enter the King's audience."
It's not the tiger that has me on edge, it's the kind smile on this man's face, and the fact that I can't get a read on whether or not it's contrived. Nevertheless, I do as he says.
My eyes drift around the room as I move towards the front, taking in anything that will distract from the eyes boring into me from what feels like all angles. Dust floats through the stage lights all directed towards the King. The youthful renaissance set is nearly comical considering it stands as the backdrop to grown men playing dress up on the stage. The tiger, Shiva, yawns as we regard each other briefly, laying down beside her master, massive head resting on her paws.
As I move nearer, The King reclines upon his throne once more. "Remarkable." His eyebrows raise as he glances down at his pet. Heads nod and hushed murmurs emanate from the council. "It would appear that Shiva believes she has no cause for apprehension in your presence as well."
Despite the amiable demeanor of the man's words, his intense scrutiny and the attentiveness of the men around him, draws to the surface painful memories. Cold eyes piercing through me, unable to read the truth in my words. Gawking orbs taking in the spectacle of my humiliation. I can practically feel the radiant heat of the furnace behind me.
"Now, young Rori," Ezekiel's resonant voice, brings me back to the moment. "It is my hope that the hospitality of The Kingdom has been to your liking in the days past."
Again, something I don't get. Why does he care? It makes me question if he's trying to manipulate me into feeling at ease. My palms find the moisture that vanishes from my mouth, my right one ghosting over the startlingly empty spot on my thigh where my holster should be. They disarmed us the moment we got to the gates. Even staring at a chained wild predator, I'm the one who feels like a caged animal with all these spectators tapping on the glass.
"Has it not?" Ezekiel's eyebrow raises, curiosity peaked in his voice. I remain in my silence until the point it begins the grow uncomfortable. The King follows my gaze to the men surrounding him. "Perhaps it would be best if we continue this introduction in solitude." He nods at his men whose brows furrow with uncertainty, but begin to file off of the stage nonetheless.
One of the men in armor looks me up and down with narrowed eyes as he obeys the King's request, his steps lingering only a moment before continuing along with the group to make their exit. Jerry shoots me a thumbs up that almosts makes me crack a smile. Maybe he's the good cop in this game, maybe a friendly face to lull me into a false sense of security. Either way the last thing I'm about to do in this community of strangers is let my guard down.
Something in the King's persona changes in the absence of his men. With casual dignity, he slowly moves off his throne, leading Shiva by a chain she could probably easy break in two down the steps of the stage. "If you wish to take a seat, I am inclined to compassion for the natural discomfort of your," his eyes drift to my belly, "condition. However, if you should have the desire, The Kingdom has a wonderful garden, well suited for cordial conversation."
"I'm fine," I refuse politely. Portraying myself as weak or as needing special treatment would be a mistake. Regardless of what Jerry said, this has to be some sort of vetting exercise. I'd be on my feet at Sanctuary's infirmary, I can be on my feet here. "The garden is fine, thank you," I assure him.
"Then it shall be," he nods. "If you please." He gestures for me to follow. Shiva barely pays me any mind as we walk. Ezekiel leads the way to a small courtyard that is as fragrant as it is lovely. Fruit trees, flowers, bushes, it's like the entire home and garden section of Lowes puked all over this place.
"You may have a seat," He offers as he examines one of their fruit trees with a cheerfulness to his expression. "Would you care for an apple, Rori, or perhaps a pomegranate?"
"I'm really alright, sir," I carefully lower myself on one of the ornate concrete benches, grateful for the cushions behind me. I want to get this over with. The more time I spend with this man, the more time I have to fuck this up, or give him something he can use to fuck me over with.
Ezekiel studies the apple he selected carefully, turning it over in his hands before returning his attention to me. "Do I detect a hint of skepticism in your visage? Perhaps you find the Kingdom too good to be true? It is a sentiment shared by many upon their initial introduction, Rori."
For damn good fucking reason. This place is too good to be true. Still, I choose my words carefully. I don't exactly want to anger a person with a tiger on end of his leash. "I'd say skepticism isn't the right word. Maybe, approaching everything with an abundance of caution."
"A wise practice in our day and age," He tips his head with another knowing smile.
I have to press my lips together to keep from spitting my remark.
"Oh come now, Rori. You are in fair company. Speak freely, without fear."
"If it's such a wise practice. Why didn't you practice it when dragging two armed strangers into your midst. You didn't know Molly or me when you picked us up, yet you bring us here, give us food and shelter, expending resources on her medical care. I want to know why. What's the catch. The only people I know of who are not afraid of strangers are those lucky enough to not yet have been given a reason to fear, or those who the strangers should be fearing. Which one are you?"
"Let me pose a question and see if in its answer you do not find your own. Exactly how much danger do you believe a heavily expectant mother, and a woman with a broken ankle, even armed to the teeth, would pose to a community of strong men and women?"
He's got a point. "Quite a lot if you refer to said expectant mother as 'heavy.'"
The King's chortled laughter is warmer than I anticipated. "You are a glowing in your maternity."
"Reckless and dishonest, you're not making a great first impression, King Ezekiel."
"I assure you, of my many flaws, dishonesty is not among their number."
Time will be the judge of that. I nod politely.
"The father of your child-"
"- Dead."
"I see," he frowns. "My apologies. I offer my sincerest condolences."
"It's fine." My eyes burn as I thrum my fingers against the armrest of the bench. Dishonesty is a recent addition to my number of flaws. But it's only the first of many lies to come, and the only one that derives from a kernel of truth. Negan might not be dead in the literal sense, but in the sense of who he was to me, he might as well be six feet under. By the time the casual questions, about who I am, my skills, how Molly and I ended up at that wearhouse, draw to their end, I can barely keep straight the protective web of falsehood I've woven around myself.
"I want to make it known that you are welcome in the Kingdom, Rori, you and young Molly. You will be safe in our midst, and your child will be well provided for."
"But why?" I emphasize the question that has still remained unanswered. "That's what I don't get. The whole renaissance fair business, I don't really care one way or another, but what I don't get is this… hospitality, or openness to share what your people have worked for or fought for or found. Molly and I haven't done anything to benefit you. We could walk out your gates tomorrow and we'd have food in our bellies and be freshly bathed, but your people would be screwed out of anything you gave us. You say I'm welcome here, but what happens if I decide I don't want to be here? You'll have gotten nothing in return for your trouble other than a wasted conversation."
"Is that how you view the world? A transaction?"
"Isn't that how it's always been?" I turn the question back around on him. "There's no such thing as a free fucking lunch, now even more so than before."
"You have experienced much hardship." The way his eyes linger on my scar drags a knife through the carving again. "Am I correct in that assumption?"
"So this is charity?"
"No. We take from the well, but we replenish the well. It is our way of life in The Kingdom. Perhaps through your hardships, Rori, you have forgotten the truest essence of human nature. Love, compassion, loyalty, kindness. Those who taste the fruits of our hospitality, often find themselves moved with gratitude, and from gratitude flows love, and from love it flows back into the well. People serve here, not by external force, but by an internal compulsion to give back to that which gives so freely."
I find it extremely difficult to believe that a man of his age would be so naive. "That sounds great in theory, yes. But that's not how things work. People are out for themselves, they always have been and they always will be."
"Give it time. I encourage you to open your mind to the ways of The Kingdom. Partake in the respite we offer, savor the fruits of our labor. Perhaps you too will be moved to replenish the well, in a manner fitting to your condition of course."
I nod slowly, hesitantly. I won't make any promises. "Of course."
"In the meantime, I must take my leave. If you will, convey my wishes of a comfortable and expedient recovery for your companion. Be well, Rori."
I remain seated long after Ezekiel leaves the courtyard, my thoughts swirling along with the breeze through the leaves above. I think the thing that I'm struggling to grapple with is that in my heart of hearts, I don't think this guy is lying. The kindness behind the king's eyes seemed untainted. Jerry's warm thumbs up, the sound of kids laughing as the choir sings behind them, I don't know how you could fake that shit. Not this convincingly anyway. But I don't want to let my guard down, and with the lies I told about where I came from, about the baby's father, I'll never be able to let it down.
When I finally rise and make my way out of the garden and back to my bedroom, I'm still undecided if I even want to stay here, but for the time being it's the best option for me, for this baby, for Molly, all of us. Truthfully, it might be our only option.
A/N: FINALLY at the Kingdom! Next chapter a whole bunch of shit is headed directly for the fan. Love you guys.