The two friends decided to surprise their men by preparing a noon meal for them. Michonne was happy to be able to show off her culinary skills.

While they cooked, they shared stories about themselves. A very curious Sasha inquired about life in the future, and her mind was blown by all the many changes and advances in technology and medicine.

She was saddened to hear that the Viking age would come to an end and that her brethren would be conquered. But Michonne assured her that the Viking influence on the future was absolute. She also explained that the Viking name was associated with strength and valour—that in no way had their culture died.

Sasha and Michonne wrapped the food in cloth and tucked the food carefully into a basket along with a skin of wine and breezed out of the cottage. The meal consisted of cheese tartlets, game hens with roasted carrots, parsnips and apples, a round loaf of bread, and fruits for dessert.

Sasha glanced back at the spot where the gold box was stored before shutting the door and just as before, the quiet voice instructed her that now was not the time. Relieved, she closed the door behind her and walked along the path with her new friend.

Negan pulled the hood of the cloak further over his face. He was a long way from the manor. He stood among the forest trees, its leaves and branches had effectively blocked out all sunlight. He hoped his plan did not go awry—he had taken a great chance coming out here alone this way. There was a chance the man would change his mind and decide to not meet with him after all. Or, the man could betray him. But then again, things could go as planned and all could go well. When he heard the footfalls of the horse and rider, he remained in his hidden position and peered through the leaves and branches.

The horseman suddenly broke through the trees and looked about his environment. Negan still did not move a muscle. He wished to be sure the man had come alone. When enough time had passed and he was satisfied, Negan finally stepped out of his hiding place and revealed himself to the man. The two eyed each other warily, the circumstances of their meeting made each man untrustworthy of the other. They silently assessed each other, both keeping their faces hidden beneath the folds of their hoods.

The horseman nudged his horse closer to Negan.

"Identify yourself." Negan commanded.

The man chuckled.

"You are in no position to order me about, Norman. You have summoned me... not I you." The rider growled.

Negan's eyes narrowed. Pompous jackass. Diplomacy was in order, else everything he had worked for up to this point would be unraveled. He grovelled.

"Forgive me, sir. I wished only to guarantee you are who you say." He smoothly replied. "I meant no disrespect."

The man sat atop his horse and did not speak for a moment. He did not buy the man's sudden change in demeanour. Any person who would summon the likes of himself to do what the man wanted done was not an individual to be trifled with. Still, this yellow-bellied coward offered the unattainable.

For now, he held the key to all the horseman dreamed of.

For now.

Once in striking position, he would bring down this man and all he held dear. But not yet. He must play politics first... only a while longer.

"I require half the payment upfront. I expect the rest once the job is done." The stranger said, his voice clipped.

Negan quickly tossed a pouch to the man that contained half of the agreed upon amount. The man easily caught the pouch and felt the weight of the coins under his palm. He nodded his approval.

"Where is this manor?" The rider curiously asked. He reined in his dancing mare, the thoroughbred was becoming restless.

"All in good time, friend. First, we adhere to the plan. Do your part, and the rest will come later." Negan assured.

Dumb fuck. Did he really think he would disclose such precious information to him?

Negan carefully outlined the plan once more. And when he was done, the two men agreed upon a day and time, with Negan promising that everything would be in order... that there would be no surprises and no resistance. Once their pact was made, the man turned on his horse and made to ride through the forest. He tossed Negan one more disgusted look and nudged his horse into a gallop.

Negan remained where he was, victory well within his grasp. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself as lord of the manor. Only a little while more and he would have it all. He began to chuckle. Aye, he would conquer his cousin alright. And the best part, was that Richard would never even see it coming.

Richard pulled Michonne up off the blanket they had spread on the ground and drew her into his arms. The men had been pleasantly surprised with the meal the women had prepared. Their meal had been filled with laughter and good-natured ribbing as the four savoured the delicious food.

"I have enjoyed this repast, woman. It pleases me even more that it was prepared by your hands." Richard warmly complimented.

"I'm glad you liked it." She sweetly said, kissing his nose. "But I had help."

Richard looked in Sasha's direction and grunted. "I would thank Sasha; however, she seems to be a bit... occupied at this moment."

Michonne followed Richard's gaze and saw that Sasha and Abraham were engaged in a fierce lip lock and tight embrace. Blushing, Michonne looked back at Richard who was now staring at her lips.

"I believe we shall follow suit. But I want more... another quickie perhaps? He asked, raising an eyebrow. His gaze was hot as he began to tug Michonne into the woodland away from Abraham and Sasha.

She covered her mouth to hide the smile there. Richard was picking up on her jargon rather well... a little too well!

A few minutes later, the couple reemerged from the wood, holding hands and sated. Abraham and Sasha shot them knowing looks which Richard and Michonne chose to ignore. The men kissed their women once more and headed back to training.

Wanting to give Sasha time alone, Michonne left for the manor to find Carol.

As she made her way along the path, a cloaked figure appeared from the forest on the right. Michonne stopped in her tracks, her heart in her throat. Now she understood why Richard didn't want her walking around alone.

She was now much too far away from Sasha's cottage, and she wasn't close enough to the manor yet, either. If she screamed, there was nobody around to hear her. Anxious, she continued to stand there and looked around for a weapon.

Nothing.

There was nothing she could grab in order to protect herself. As the form slowly made its way toward Michonne, she began to panic.

The stranger stood before her and Michonne didn't dare breathe. She balled her fists and prepared to give them hell... there was no way she would go down without a fight. Suddenly, smooth alabaster hands reached up to push back the hood.

Lady Lorraine.

Michonne breathed a sigh of relief. If it went down, she could take Lorraine, she'd rather see this woman than Negan any day.

"My but you have certainly made yourself at home here." Lorraine said. Her tone was smooth, lazy and reproachful.

She looked Michonne up and down, assessing her. Her look of disdain clearly let Michonne know that she had been measured and had been found wanting.

"You have partaken of my threads, my home, and my food... the bed of my betrothed. You are overconfident and stupid."

Michonne stood there, her hands still balled into fists at her briefly considered ripping the woman into shreds verbally. But she wasn't worth the time or effort. When Michonne tried to walk around Lady Lorraine, the tall woman blocked her. Standing this closely, Michonne could see she had guessed correctly a few days before. The woman was much taller and nearly towered over her.

"Listen to me, you whore," Lorraine growled. "You enjoy your time with my intended. But know this: he and I will be wed and I will be the lady of the manor. You will be nothing more than a common cunt, and I shall send you away to a fate far worse than you can imagine."

With that, Lady Lorraine whipped the hood back over her face. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing.

"But before then, you will have what you deserve... this I swear. Lorraine said solemnly. She turned on her heels and walked back into the direction from which she had come.

Michonne was pissed. She paced the floor of her chambers and was deep in thought.

'That bitch! The nerve!'

She had practically run back to the manor after her encounter with Lorraine. She wasn't about to risk another run in with someone much stronger. She ran into Carl who had been running an errand for Richard. She asked if he could find Carol and send the old woman to her chambers. Now, Michonne's feet were eating up the cold stone beneath her.

Livid did not begin to describe how she felt now.

At the sharp knock at the door, she turned as Carol walked in. The old woman took in Michonne's state and rushed toward her.

"What is it child?" She demanded.

"Lorraine, that's what! I was on my way back from Sasha's and she intercepted me there. She was the bitch she always is, but she threatened me this time."

"Tell me." Carol urged.

Michonne took in a deep breath. "Well, she knows about Richard and me—" She broke off; she hadn't meant to tell Carol that she and Richard were intimate. She knew the woman wouldn't judge her, she just had wanted to keep her relationship with him under wraps for as long as possible.

Carol seemed to read her mind. "Tis good, child. You need fear no judgment from me. I am glad." She reassured.

Nodding her head, Michonne continued. "She is full of venom! She told me I'm going to get what I deserve and Carol... I believe her!"

"Come. We must tell Lord Richard of this. He is the only one who can stop this and put that pest in her place." The older woman responded.

"Really, Carol, I don't want to bother him with my petty problems. He has a lot on his mind as it is."

The old woman looked at her and smiled softly. She cupped Michonne's face in her hands.

"Spoken like a woman who truly loves my boy." She said warmly.

The moment quickly passed.

"Now come." She barked.

Michonne trailed behind. She didn't know why she even bothered arguing with Carol.

Bossy old woman.

The courtyard buzzed with talk and interest as they watched their Lord Richard with the emissary. When Michonne and Carol arrived, they both took in the scene with apprehension and curiosity. Carol knew well that a messenger often brought more bad tidings than naught.

Her lord and his men had only just returned from war, and now here stood an envoy. She and Michonne tried to listen but as Richard and the messenger were speaking in their Norse tongue, there was no way for Michonne to understand what was being said. She tried to read Richard's expressions and was nervous when he looked surprised and then upset.

What the hell was going on?

He stepped aside and allowed the lone horseman inside for refreshment. Meanwhile, Carl led the man's horse to the stables. Michonne tried to make eye contact with Richard.

When his brown eyes landed on her, his expression was grim and reserved. She wanted badly to go to him and wrap her arms around him, but she knew that she needed to keep her distance and wait until they were together. Thank goodness that wouldn't be too much longer. She decided to postpone her talk of Lady Lorraine as well.

That evening, the meal passed without incident.

The mood in the hall wasn't nearly as jovial as it normally was. By the end of the dinner, Michonne was fit to be tied. She was ready to explode with curiosity and was so relieved when the meal came to an end.

As was her custom, she left well before Richard and made her way to his chambers.

She paced her chamber floor as she had done earlier that day. Something was wrong, and she couldn't help remembering what Shane had said.

"Remember the flight, remember the flight." She mumbled.

Just then, Richard walked inside and Michonne immediately went to him. He took her into his arms and breathed in her sweet scent.

"I have been summoned by my leaders." He said. There was no emotion, no anger or frustration. Just simply stated.

Michonne pulled away and stared up at her lover in disbelief. "But you just got back!"

Nodding, Richard gently pulled away to remove his clothing. "Tis true. But it is not unheard of... rare, but not unheard of."

Michonne knew he was upset. In their short time together, she had come to know this man. She knew he would never in a thousand years voice his true opinion. He was honour bound and took his responsibilities seriously.

But something wasn't right.

'God help me... Shane help me!' Her brain screamed. Why couldn't she pinpoint what was wrong?

Richard began to undress Michonne. She tried her hardest to focus on her thoughts, but the man had a way of driving her insane. His simplest touch drove her mad.

"Richard, wait. What does this mean?" She asked.

"Later. I need you now, woman." He growled.

Michonne instinctively responded to the need in his voice. She allowed him to undress her, and when she stood gloriously naked before him, he swept her up in his arms and took her to the bed. Gently laying her there, Michonne reached for his cock, but was stopped.

"Allow me to touch you this night." Richard quietly stated.

He touched her entire body as if he were memorizing it. His big hands swept over her smooth skin, making it hum. His lovemaking was gentle, yet intense. But before they could talk more, they both were overcome with exhaustion and fell into a fitful sleep.

Richard was to leave in just one day.

In the small amount of time they had left together, he and Michonne made love and spent as much time in each other's company as possible. When necessity forced them apart, Michonne would always find a way to show up in strange places in order to steal a quick kiss. More often than not, Richard required more than a kiss, and somehow Michonne almost always found herself behind some trees or in a dark, deserted room with her thighs spread wide and Richard's dick thrusting in and out of her.

Their time together was always wonderful, but was tainted with the knowledge that Richard and most of his warriors would soon leave in answer to Ivar the Boneless and Halfdan's summons. Though Richard was unsure of why he had been called, the unspoken truth was there was a very real possibility that he would once again be forced to leave his home for months – or years – in order to take part in the Viking campaign for more land, more riches, and more power.

Each night after Michonne and Richard made love, she would lie there in his arms, sleep outside of her grasp. Her mind and thoughts would spin at a pace that would leave her frustrated and confused. She was unsure why, but it seemed that it was even more imperative that she meditate on Shane's cryptic message.

Michonne toiled over every flight she'd ever taken.

She even tried to remember all the flights Shane had taken. She combed through the recesses of her mind and brought forward every complaint, every hostile word from a flight attendant, every lost baggage.

But she couldn't never come up with anything.

By the morning of Richard's departure, she had worried herself sick. With everything in her, Michonne fought to swallow her tears and slapped on a serene expression. This was much harder on Richard, so she didn't have the luxury of crying. She would stand firm and send him off in the best way she knew how: with love.

Michonne had admitted to herself that she loved her Viking. It was why she never really tried to look for the gold box. That trinket meant that she would go back to her own time and her own time meant a life without Richard. And a life without Richard wasn't worth living.

He had come to mean everything to her; and Michonne was more than willing to give up all the comforts of the future for a lifetime of true love. Even though he had not spoken the words to her, she knew he loved her as well. It was always there in his touch, in his look, in the way his face lit up whenever she came around.

Yes, he loved her—Michonne was certain of that.

When she awoke, she wasn't surprised to find that Richard had already dressed and had left his chambers. She knew he would like nothing more than to have one of their sessions before he dressed, but he had explained to her that a warrior never spent his seed before battle. It would cripple him.

Michonne jumped out of the bed and quickly washed her face and rinsed her mouth. She dragged her fingers through her hair and dressed in record time.

With her hand on the doorknob, she paused for a moment.

"Please give me the strength to do this. Don't let me cry," She pleaded.

Michonne steeled herself, opened the door and walked out.

Sasha's eyes fluttered open. It was very early morning. Today their men traveled in answer to the summons. But something else disturbed her. She carefully and quietly removed Abraham's large arm from around her waist, and got out of bed.

She walked into the kitchen and looked around.

It was as she had left it.

Sasha then turned to the door and opened it. Peering outside, the mist from the fog made it difficult to see the forest beyond. But there was nothing unusual about that.

Closing the door, she turned and froze. There was an eerie glow that came from the spot where the gold box was hidden. Sasha turned her head to the right as the quiet voice instructed her.

She listened intently and was saddened.

Moving to the box, she carefully removed it, making sure not to touch it. Even the cloth she had used to wrap the ornament could not mar its beautiful glow. Wistfully, she stared down at the object, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Sasha had always been obedient whenever the voice spoke. She always regarded her gift with veneration and honour. Today would mark the first time she had ever considered disobedience.

However, common sense took over and Sasha prepared to do as she had been instructed. She quickly dressed, threw on her cloak, and left the cottage with the box in hand. Michonne swallowed around the lump lodged in her throat. Carl had relayed a message that her presence had been requested in the great hall. She now stood in front of Richard, fighting to remain composed, but hanging on by a thread.

As she took in his appearance, Michonne was awed. He looked magnificent. Richard was adorned in battle garb and looked every bit the fierce Viking warrior... only without the blond hair. He wore a black, sleeveless tunic and silver armbands that showcased his strong arms and tattoos. His hair had been pulled back with two braids at his temples.

Michonne was unsure of the protocol for wishing a warrior farewell. In movies, it had always been frowned on for the female to show emotion when the warrior left for battle. So she was surprised when Richard gave Carl orders to bring her to the hall.