He gently placed his hands on her waist and pulled her to him.
The two lovers embraced, not caring if anyone caught them. Michonne was no longer able to keep her tears in check.
"You come back to me." She whispered. With her eyes closed and her face pressed against Richard's warm, hard chest, she breathed in his familiar scent. She didn't want to think negatively, but willed herself to find the courage to say the words that needed to be voiced... just in case. "I just found you and I'm not done with you yet. So find your way back to me. I love you, Richard."
He tensed.
Tightening his arm around her, Richard pulled back and looked down at the top of Michonne's mass of curls.
"Woman, I would gaze upon your eyes." He commanded.
Hesitantly, Michonne looked up at him, afraid of his reaction to her words, but she had nothing to fear.
The passion and the hope adorning his face almost broke her heart. It was as if he'd just heard those three words for the first time in his life. Michonne vaguely cursed Lorraine for having scorned Richard; but simultaneously she thanked the reckless woman, because her crassness had left the door open for Michonne and Richard to find each other.
He must have been satisfied with whatever he found in Michonne's eyes, because he touched his forehead to hers and grasped her wrist, bringing her palm to his rapidly beating heart.
"You are the keeper of this... my soul. Take care with it, as I do not give it impetuously. I offer you a life here with me, and I pledge my undying allegiance to you as your lord, protector and mate. All that I have would be yours. What say you, Michonne?"
She leaned back and cupped his face in her hands, shocked.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" She asked incredulously.
"If you would have me... aye." Richard replied.
Michonne's knee buckled. If she would have him?! How could he ever doubt how much she wanted him?
"But what about Lorraine?" She asked.
"She is my concern; do not trouble yourself. Now what say you?" He repeated.
"Yes! Yes, I will have you!" She joyously sobbed.
Before Richard allowed himself to join in her happiness, he issued another word of caution.
"You will be my mate for life, woman. Is this what you want?" He sternly asked.
"Yes! You've made me the happiest woman alive!"
Michonne brought his lips to hers and sealed their pledge to each other with a kiss. When they finally broke apart, they were breathless, desire overwhelming them both.
"Would that I could join you abed." Richard mourned.
Michonne laughed at the agony on his face and in his voice. A quickie really sounded like a good idea right now. But she wanted his mind focused on his journey. The last thing she wanted to be was a distraction to him.
"Take care, sweetheart. Please come back to me... I'll wait for you forever if I have to." She whispered.
With every ounce of strength he could muster, Richard broke their embrace. He abruptly gave Michonne a hard kiss on the lips and backed away. Turning, he walked toward the large arch that led to the door. Before he crossed the threshold, he looked back at Michonne once more. He remembered the day he had found her near-lifeless body in the snow and thanked the Aesir above for bringing her to him.
He was caught entirely unawares by the summons from the Ragnarsson brothers and could not begin to guess what had prompted them to demand his return. But the one thing Richard did know was that he would fight. He would fight unto the death and he would continue to defy the odds. His treasure stood there with big, doe eyes that even now glistened with unshed tears.
Aye, he would fight... and he would return to her waiting arms.
Richard walked out the door and this time he did not look back. With difficulty he pushed thoughts of his woman out of his mind. As he walked past Carol, he nodded to the woman who had been his mother.
"We ride." He declared, his deep voice boomed throughout the courtyard as he mounted Sleipnir.
He did not dare permit himself a backward glance at the woman who had come to mean so much to him. Instead, Richard urged the warhorse onward and allowed it the freedom to charge into the forest.
Valhalla above must have heard his silent plea for strength, for he did not look back.
As was her habit, Michonne watched until Richard was no longer in sight before she allowed the tears to spill freely down her face. She made her way up the steps and into the keep, she needed to get away from the prying gazes and the whispers.
Once she reached his solar, she closed the door, removed her clothing and pulled on one of his tunics. His wonderful scent instantly assaulted her, and she burrowed under the covers and sobbed for all she was worth.
"Please keep him safe." She gasped, barely able to breathe.
For an hour she remained just so until she was spent. At some point, Carol had come to the door, but Michonne had refused the old woman entry. She only got up once to clean her face with the cool water from the bowl. Then she climbed back into the bed and pulled the covers over her head.
Before she knew it, she was asleep.
Michonne was on the flight to Scotland. She was ecstatic that her baby brother was marrying the love of his life. She remembered how she had dropped everything to come to the wedding. Because the flight would take eons, and because she was an avid reader, she had visited a Barnes and Noble a few days before her flight. Though Michonne would be traveling to Scotland, the actual ceremony would take place at Berwick upon Tweed.
In the spirit of the region to which she would be traveling, she had picked up a book about the history of Northumberland. Once on the flight, she had been so wrapped up in the book—and in one story in particular—that she had neglected to eat and had even fought sleep for as long as possible. When she could barely keep her eyes open, she inserted her bookmark where she had left off and reluctantly slept.
Awake once more, Michonne partook in the meal offered by the flight attendant and immediately returned to her book. It was a story of violence, honour, loyalty, friendships, and betrayal. Apparently, during the Viking Age, a great and powerful chieftain rose to power. His many exploits had reached far and wide, and he was honoured and respected by his comrades and leaders. A family member, envious of the chieftain, betrayed him by turning the great lord over to the Saxon enemy. In an elaborate plot, the cousin arranged for a messenger to arrive at the chieftain's manor with false news from their great Viking leaders.
The nobleman had only just returned from war, but because he was upright, he didn't protest but left his keep with a large number of his men to answer the call.
Only, there was no call.
The chieftain and his troops walked into an ambush and were taken unawares, every single warrior had been killed that day. The only remaining relative, the heinous cousin became lord and enjoyed the power that came along with such prestige for a short while. However, he was later betrayed by the Saxons with whom he had consorted. With little to no defense, the keep had been taken. The men were killed, the women raped, and they were forced into slavery along with the children. The Viking campaign suffered a great loss.
The betrayed chieftain had been Lord Richard.
Michonne's eyes fluttered open. She sobbed as remembrance rushed back to her.
Even on the plane to Scotland she had felt a heavy sadness she didn't understand as she read Richard's story. Now her sorrows had been worsened a hundredfold, because the betrayed lord was no longer a stranger. He meant everything to her.
Michonne got out of bed and threw open the door that led to the balcony.
It was almost dark.
She pulled on her clothes and ran out of room, making her way down the stairs and outside the keep. She knew she made a spectacle of herself, tearing through the courtyard, but she didn't care. This was too important, and she had to warn Richard that he had been set up.
As she made her way toward Sasha's cottage, Michonne began to run out of breath. Her sides ached but she refused to slow to a walk. The small house seemed to be further away than usual... she was sure it was her imagination. But finally, when it came into view, she let out a cry of joy.
Not even stopping to knock, Michonne burst through the door, startling Sasha who had been sewing. Her head jerked up in surprise as she took in Michonne's anguished state.
"What is it?" Sasha demanded, startled.
Michonne simply stood in the middle of the floor, gasping for air. Tears welled in her eyes, but she couldn't form a single sentence.
Finally, Sasha sprang to life. She grabbed a chair and pushed Michonne down in it. Then she ran to the kitchen and poured her a cool cup of mead.
"Here, drink this." Sasha instructed.
She stood in front of Michonne watching her drink the refreshment. Sasha nervously wrung her hands and wished Michonne would finish the drink already. The wait was more than she could bear!
Michonne's breathing slowed enough for her to speak.
"Sasha, Richard and the men are in trouble. Long story short, ever since I've been here, something's been bothering me about Negan but I couldn't figure out why. Today, it all came back to me. In my time, I read a book about Richard. He was betrayed by Negan and was killed. The summons from Halfdan and Ivar isn't real, it was contrived by Negan and some Saxons. Richard is walking into a trap!" She yelled.
As Michonne spoke, Sasha's jaw dropped in horrified shock. She covered her mouth with her hands, her big eyes wide. She did not need the use of her gift to validate what Michonne said. Sasha knew with all her heart that her friend spoke the truth. How had she not discerned this before Richard and the men had left... before she had allowed Richard and Abraham to walk away into danger?
"Sasha, I'm going after them myself." Michonne got up and started for the door.
"I cannot allow you to roam the countryside alone! You will be harmed! Let us not be foolhardy... we must devise a plan." Sasha stated with more conviction than she felt.
"Sasha, we don't have time for all that. And we can't tell anyone else, either. How would we explain how I came by the knowledge that Richard is walking into a trap?" She asked.
"We can say it was something that came to me in a vision." Sasha replied.
"Then the men who were supposed to stay and guard the rest of us will go after Richard. The keep will be completely defenseless. In case those Saxons decide to invade early, there should be somebody here to fight them off." Michonne reasoned.
"Honestly, I can't stay here and wait, Sasha. I have to get to him before he's killed. I know now why I was sent here. I can't fail!"
The urgency in Michonne's voice was Sasha's undoing.
"I come with you, Michonne. You know nothing of this land. We will need horses, but leave that to me." she said. Her tone brook no argument.
The two women rushed down the path toward the stables. Each silently prayed that they would reach the men in time. Neither allowed herself to think about what would happen if they were too late.
Michonne was spooked.
Sasha had managed to procure two horses for them, and they were now stealthily making their way through the pitch black forest. She now wished she'd listened to Sasha.
This was the first time Michonne had ever been outside of the keep this late at night. The forest looked like something from a horror movie, and she half expected Michael Myers to come ripping through the brush. She forced her thoughts on the task at hand and remembered that all this would be worth it when they found Richard and saved the men from certain demise.
By the time they had traveled for a couple hours, both women's nerves were on edge. Every owl, every snap that came from the forest floor made them jump. When the wolves began to howl, Michonne almost lost her cool.
Neither woman spoke. They were both too afraid, and didn't want the sound of their voices to alert anyone or anything of their presence.
By the fourth hour, Michonne was near tears. This was a horrible mistake. They hadn't packed any food, she was cold, her limbs were aching from sitting astride her horse, she was scared shitless, and the men were nowhere in sight.
Just when she would slump forward in defeat, a shrill whistle pierced through the night. Michonne and Sasha jerked up, not knowing whether to be grateful for the sound or afraid.
The two friends reined in their horses and huddled together.
"There is no need to be frightened." Sasha reassured Michonne quietly. "We are saved."
Michonne peered at her friend and accepted her word as gospel. The irony of what she had said wasn't lost on Michonne. They were on a mission to save the men but had needed saving instead.
Just then, there was movement in front of them that seemed to materialize from the bowels of the black forest. Tensing, Michonne squinted and tried to see who was moving toward them. She grabbed Sasha's hand and nervously squeezed it.
Even though her friend had said they were safe, Michonne was still nervous.
The form drew nearer and she could now make out a big, black horse. She waited anxiously, silently urging the horseman to come into the spot of bright moonlight. When he did, tears sprang to her eyes and Michonne trembled, overwhelmed with relief.
It was Richard. And he was angry.
When the scout had told Richard that they were being trailed by Michonne and Sasha, he could hardly believe his ears. He had asked no questions but had jumped on his horse and rode at a breakneck speed from their camp and through the wood.
When Richard came upon the two fools, it was obvious they were exhausted and nearly frozen to death. They were hours away from the manor and had traveled with no provisions, no weapons and not one form of protection.
He still could not believe it.
Richard sat astride Sleipnir for a moment and didn't move. He fought with all his might to rein in his temper but was failing miserably. He wanted to wring Michonne's scrawny little neck for attempting something so foolhardy; and he wanted to do the same to Sasha for allowing Michonne to talk her into this. He had no doubt that Michonne was indeed the mastermind behind this entire plot.
As he dismounted his horse, Richard signaled to Abraham to help Sasha off her mare. He would allow his commander to deal with her... Richard had his hands full as it was. H walked wordlessly up to Michonne and unceremoniously dragged her off the horse.
He held her steady as her legs buckled beneath her. No doubt the little imbeciles had not stopped to stretch or allow their horses to rest. How could they in the dead of night? Richard was getting angrier and angrier by the second.
Her neck looked so enticing. Would that he could only wrap one hand around it and squeeze—
"Richard—" Michonne began, but she was cut off by the murderous glint in his eyes.
She'd never seen him this angry before. His face was pulled into a ferocious scowl and a muscle in his jaw jumped. There was even a vein in the middle of his forehead that fascinated Michonne. She stared at it, watching as his skin became mottled with red. She would have laughed had they been in another situation.
"Michonne, why are you and Sasha here?" He asked, his voice deceptively calm; conversational even.
She pulled her gaze from his forehead and looked over at Abraham. His booming voice nearly drowned Richard out as he yelled at Sasha, thoroughly affirming his displeasure.
Michonne looked into Richard's blue eyes. Yeah, he was mad as hell, too. Even with that knowledge, she wasn't afraid. She trusted Richard with her all and knew that he'd never do a thing to harm her.
Sure he may want to choke her out right now, but that was the difference. He'd never act on his instincts.
"Richard, I know this is going to sound crazy, but the summons isn't from Halfdan and Ivar. It's a set up!"
He frowned down at her.
"Explain, woman." He darkly said.
Michonne drew in a deep breath. This is the part that had bothered her. What if Richard didn't believe her?
"Sasha... in a vision, she saw that the summons was a ruse to get you and the men here so that some Saxons can overtake you. You're an obstacle that Negan had to remove in order to become lord." She hoped she sounded convincing. Otherwise she'd have to tell him the truth.
Michonne watched as several emotions played over Richard's face. There was doubt, followed by comprehension; then there was disbelief which was immediately replaced by anger. The final emotion she read almost broke her heart.
He was hurt.
They both knew that Richard had greatly underestimated Negan's hatred for him. Michonne hoped that this would be a wake up call that would show Richard that his cousin was a very real and very dangerous person.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "When I—when Sasha realized the summons wasn't real, I just had to get to you. I know I could've told someone or sent a messenger but I had to see you, had to make sure you were safe."
At her impassioned plea, Richard could not remain angry with her. After all, she had saved his life... she had saved many lives. If Negan's plan had come to fruition, it would mean the end to all he held dear.
"There is none other like you, Michonne. I owe you my life." Richard said gruffly. "But you are correct... it was foolish of you and Sasha, to travel alone in such a manner. You could very well have sent a messenger, for when Sasha speaks, I take heed."
Michonne nodded her understanding and sniffled. Richard gently brought her chin up and brushed the tear away with his thumb. Then he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
"We will discuss this more. And then we will finish our talks with hours upon hours of lovemaking." He quietly promised.
Michonne shivered with anticipation.
Richard produced a blanket and wrapped it around her.
"Berg, Grim, escort the women back to the manor." He commanded.
His mind was already turning with different ways to deal with his cousin. But for now, he focused his attentions on the enemy that lie in wait for them. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as the scent of battle coursed through the night air. Richard's hands itched to grab his sword and axe and pull them free of their constraints. Not yet... soon, but not yet.
He mounted Sleipnir and gave more orders and dispatched some of his men to scout for the Saxons. He spoke fervently and with inspiration to the rest.
"Give praise to the gods and make your entreaties to the Valkyrie. For this night, we feast on Saxon flesh! A-Viking!" He yelled.
Similar cries disturbed the quiet evening as the men charged their horses in pursuit of the enemy, in pursuit of battle. Michonne was so happy to be back at the manor, and was so happy that she and Sasha had made it to Richard and the men in time.
But she was dog-tired.
After begging Sasha to take her chambers while she slept in Richard's, Michonne had requested bath water and was now lying back in the steaming liquid. Her muscles ached from all those hours on the horse, and then she'd had to turn right back around and endure four more hours. By the time the keep was in sight, Michonne had come very close to weeping.
She wouldn't be surprised if she was bow-legged now.
As she closed her eyes and allowed the heat from the water to massage her kinks and bruises, she didn't really register the sound of the door opening and closing. Michonne assumed it was Carol or Sasha and kept her eyes closed.
It was a mistake.
Negan's hated voice broke the spell the comforting bath had woven around her.
"Alas, a moment alone with my dreadful cousin nowhere around to smother you."
Michonne froze. She instinctively knew that Lorraine's earlier threat was now coming to fruition.
She sank deeper into the bath, trying to hide her nudity.
In horrified silence, she watched as Lorraine walked into the room and closed the door. She stood in front of it, arms crossed. The look on her face couldn't possibly be any smugger.
"She is not so mighty now without her Lord Richard here, is she?" Lorraine asked.
"No. I cannot say she is." Negan replied, the amusement in his voice evident.
How was she going to get out of this? Michonne wondered.
"Get out of the water. I would gaze upon the form that has made Richard so much more boorish than usual. Surely you realize the effect you have on the oaf." Negan said.
Michonne gritted her teeth. Of course she didn't want to show this asshole her glory, but she had bigger problems than her modesty right now. She was sure Negan had no intentions of only looking with no touching. She had to keep her wits about her if she wanted to make it out of this unharmed. Slowly, she stood; the water glistening off her naked body.
Negan felt his cock harden.
She was even more beautiful than he had imagined. He understood why Richard had not hesitated to claim the woman; but tonight, she would belong to him. Tonight, he would do all the things to her that Richard could not.
Michonne cautiously stepped out of the tub and walked backward as Negan stalked her. When she had nowhere else to go, she stood with her back pressed against the wall. Negan's eyes shone unnaturally, no doubt he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt before he devoured her.
Michonne wasn't sure if he intended to rape her first or just kill her. But what she did know was he definitely intended to harm her in some way. His words belied her thoughts. Negan's pale hand cupped her cheek; his right thumb slowly traced the outline of her full lips.
She recoiled from his touch.
"You know, darling, I have wanted you from the very beginning. This smooth, warm skin... I have longed to caress it. This curling, interesting hair... I have wanted to plunge my hands into it. These wondrous, plump lips... I have dreamed of kissing them. And these," he said, grabbing Michonne's breasts.
"These heavy tits... I have needed to suck them. And this extraordinary pussy... how I have imagined fucking it!" He growled. Negan's hand grabbed at Michonne's womanhood, and only paused in its quest when she slapped him in the face.
For a moment, neither one of them moved. Michonne watched anxiously, wondering what he would do to her. He rubbed the reddening spot where Michonne had hit him and smiled wickedly.
When he backhanded her across the face in return, his cock swelled even more.
"Oh, yes, sweetness. I shall enjoy riding Richard's lovely cunt." He groaned as he ground his body into Michonne's.
She felt sick but refused to cry. She would not allow this skinny bastard to rape her... come hell or high water she would scratch his eyes out first.
"Enough of this talk," Lorraine growled. She shook with rage and jealousy over the display Negan made over Richard's bitch.
"Be done with it... give her what she deserves!"
Michonne glared at Lorraine and would've charged at her if she didn't have to worry about Negan.
"Yes, my dear. By all means, I will give her everything she deserves." He licked his lips.
When he bent to take one of Michonne's nipples into his mouth, she thought she would vomit right there all over him. Actually, she should have. It would certainly keep him at bay.
Negan roughly grabbed her hand and brought it to his crotch. "Squeeze it." he thickly urged. He was already in the deep throes of passion.
Michonne refused.
She allowed her hands to drop limply at her sides and was taken completely unawares when he cuffed her on the side of her head. Unfortunately for Michonne, she had no idea she was playing into one of Negan's sexual fantasies. He loved to dominate and when his lovers were disobedient, it drove him mad, sexually. It allowed him to be aggressive which, was a turn on.
Nothing hardened his dick more quickly than hurting someone. Negan licked Michonne from the base of her neck to her ear. She shuddered with repulsion.
"I would have you suck my dick, but we will have time for that later. Now, I will bury my cock in your dark pussy." He growled.
At that, Michonne went ballistic. She swung, punched slapped and clawed at Negan with the vehemence of a banshee. He really didn't know how to handle her. On the one hand he was livid and wanted to kill her for the blows to his face. But the way she fought back... even now his long, thin rod saluted her.
When Michonne began to scream was when all hell broke loose. Lorraine rushed her and tried unsuccessfully to quiet the shorter woman. The two ended up rolling around on the floor which gave Negan immense pleasure.
Lorraine was on top of Michonne and had her arms pinned above her head. Just when Michonne didn't think she could be more horrified, the blonde harpy kept one hand on Michonne's wrists and slid the other down her body.
With narrowed eyes, Lorraine watched Michonne and squeezed her puckering nipple.
This was really too much. To make matters worse, Michonne's body began to react to the bitch's touch.
Meanwhile, Negan sat on the bed with his cock in his hand. The picture of the two women together was almost more than he could bear...his manhood now ached to be inside of a warm, tight pussy.
Just when Michonne thought she would become Lorraine and Negan's sex toy, the door shot open with a bang against the wall.
Blessedly, Sasha stood there... with a bow and arrow no less.
"Michonne, I felt that you were in harm's way... but I have been wrong on occasion. If you wish me to leave, I will of course do so."
Uncertainty was written all over Sasha's face. Was she crazy? Michonne thought.
"Sasha, if you leave me here like this I'll smother you in your sleep!" Michonne wailed.
It was enough for her friend.
"You heard her. I've sent for the guard so I suggest you let her up, Lady Lorraine and allow her to dress. And you, Negan. I will not waste words. Cover yourself and make haste."
Michonne expected the two perverts to laugh at Sasha's bluff. But to her surprise, they hurriedly complied. Even more surprising, Sasha had not been bluffing at all. Grim and Berg arrived just as Michonne wrapped furs around herself.
If they thought anything peculiar, neither one of them let on. They simply grabbed Lorraine and Negan and shoved them out the door.
"Where are they taking them?" Michonne asked.
"To the dungeon. Neither is aware that Richard knows of their deceit. They will remain blissfully unaware until his return." Sasha explained.
All of a sudden, Michonne dropped down on the bed with her face in her hands. She had very nearly been raped and molested by a man and a woman!
Sasha walked to her and took her friend into her arms. She offered all the support she possibly could.
"Sasha, what would I have done if you hadn't come along?" Michonne screeched.
"There, there. We will not think on such things. I did come along... we will only focus on that."
The events of the last few hours overtook Michonne and she ran to the garderobe. There, she emptied all the contents of her stomach. When she was done, she walked back into the chambers and dropped the furs.
"Forgive me, Sasha, but I need to get his smell and the feel of his hands off my body."
"No need to apologize. If you need me, I will be right across the hall." She said as she left the room.
"Sasha." Michonne called.
She stopped and turned back to Michonne.
"Thank you so much... for everything. You're the closest friend I've had in this world and my own. I love you." Michonne whispered.
Sasha's eyes brimmed with tears. "And I you." she whispered sadly, and walked out the door.
Michonne feverishly scrubbed her body using the rose water soap Sasha had made. She especially focused on the area where Negan and Lorraine had licked and touched her.
When she felt like she had been disinfected, she rinsed, dried and searched for one of Richard's tunics. Her hand brushed against something. It was a small, wrapped bundle that she didn't recognize.
She pulled on a shirt and picked up the object, feeling the weight of it. Curiously, she unwrapped it.
Gasping, she was shocked when the gold box fell into her hands. It rolled, causing the clasp to flip up on its own. Instantly, it sprang to life and began to glow. With dread, she listened to the distant rumble of thunder and that creepy music. She watched as the lid opened in the same manner it had before.
Michonne desperately wanted to close the box or run from the room. But she was frozen... it was as if she couldn't move a muscle.
The same odd voice spoke, but this time there was no rhyme. It addressed her directly.
"Michonne, we are pleased. We have searched the world high and low for a creature of your ilk. In you, we have found fearlessness and integrity. Your journey is complete."
"No," Michonne whispered. "Please, I don't want to go back!"
But the voice did not respond. Instead, it was eerily so. For a split second, Michonne thought perhaps she had been allowed to stay. However, a great explosion of thunder caused her to jump. With dismay, she turned as the balcony door was ripped open. The wind beyond the door was nearly torrential and lightning brightened the sky so that it momentarily looked as if it was daylight.
Michonne tried to run.
She no longer felt frozen and sprinted in the opposite direction of the balcony. When she tried to leave Richard's chambers, it was if she was being dragged back. She screamed for all she was worth. Michonne cried out Richard's name and sobbed dreadfully. She grabbed and clawed at anything she could get her hands on, but it seemed as if she was powerless against the mighty force that pulled her.
She grasped the wood of the bed in a final attempt — one last act of desperation to remain with Richard, but she was tired... so tired. She was tired of crying, tired of hurting, and tired of her loved ones deserting her. Now, it was the opposite; it was she who was leaving Richard.
"I can't!" She cried, the tears pouring down her face. Michonne's grip on the bed weakened, her head bowed in defeat. She stopped fighting.
"Richard, forgive me... I'm so sorry." Her eyes grew heavy and when she felt like she was spinning, Michonne allowed it. She no longer fought, but accepted her fate.
Michonne had no idea how she'd gotten back to the hotel. She had vague memories of awakening on the ground at the park. It had been late evening still, like only a few minutes of time had passed in her century. She remembered stumbling to her rental car only wearing Richard's tunic.
When she had turned on the ignition, the clock on the dashboard had read a few minutes after midnight. Amazing. She had spent weeks in 9th century Northumbria, yet only about an hour had passed in the 21st century. Michonne barely recalled navigating her way through the roads but her memories ended there. She had been too busy crying and mourning the loss of Richard. Somehow she had managed to stumble back to the room and had crashed on the floor... she didn't even have the strength to make it to the bed.
She had stopped crying come morning, but she still felt out of place. Today, and the next and the day after that, the world would go on without the knowledge of what happened to her. They would get up in the morning and dress for work. They would get their children ready for school, they would pay bills, argue, make love.
Everything would be the same. Nobody would know that she had fallen in love with a man from a different time.
She still didn't have the strength to move so she remained on the floor and allowed herself to drown into deep sadness.
At precisely 8AM, the clock radio jumped on. She was supposed to be leaving today. She'd had a noon flight to catch and had set the alarm the day before. To her misery, one of her favourite songs played, bringing fresh tears forth. She despondently hummed along as Loni Rose crooned the lyrics of "Soft Place to Fall."
The lyrics were too painful—too real—and she welcomed them. Her fingers twisted into the carpet beneath her. She wept deeply, heart-wrenching sobs spilled from her, choked her. Michonne struggled to fill her lungs with air, so powerful was her grief.
When the song ended, she weakly got to her feet and went into the bathroom to clean her face. She briefly wondered if she'd imagined Richard and the manor. What if she'd been knocked unconscious at the park when she fell? What if she had taken what she'd read in the book and dreamed up the whole thing?
She began to tremble.
No... she couldn't have. Her time there had been too real, too elaborate. Turning toward the mirror, Michonne's breath came out in a whoosh. What she saw made her relieved and it opened up her wounds even more.
She was wearing Richard's tunic. Her forehead creased and her face crumpled as she sobbed anew. Grabbing handfuls of the garment, she brought it to her nose and breathed in his wonderful scent. Her time there had been real. Michonne pulled the tunic over her head and changed into one of her t-shirts and panties. She carried Richard's shirt with her and sat on the edge of the bed.
She picked up the phone and dialled the front desk.
"Yes, good morning. This is Michonne Kenard in room 221. I'd like to extend my stay another two days. Yes... and I'd like to not be disturbed. Thank you."
Michonne didn't have the strength to fight with the airline about her ticket. But she needed to figure out what she would do with herself, where she would go. For right now, though, she would allow herself to grieve. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but in such a short time, she had lost a lot. Her brother was gone and so were her new friends and the love of her life.
Michonne lay on the cool sheets and brought the blanket up over her. She cuddled Richard's tunic against her and breathed in his smell.
The great hall was not as cheerful as it normally was.
Lord Richard's mood affected all, and since the woman's departure, he had been melancholy. Never before had anyone seen their chieftain so. He was withdrawn, he barely spoke and he had lost much weight.
Even now, he was somber and appeared to be deep in thought. No matter how many times Abraham or Sasha tried to engage him, he simply responded to their questions but offered no more. He was a man in mourning.
Only Sasha, Carol and Abraham knew the truth of what had happened to Michonne.
The rest of the kinsmen figured she had finally returned to her home. Wherever she had gone, they all had a new respect for her. Word had spread how she and Sasha had ridden through the night to warn Lord Richard that he had been betrayed by Negan.
None of them were surprised.
They all had known what a bastard Negan was, but they were surprised by his affair with Lady Lorraine. Much had been revealed in the last week and they all spit on the name of Negan Ulfarson and Lady Lorraine.
Carol looked on at her boy, her heart filled with much regret. Would that he was still a small boy... she would take him into her arms in the same manner in which she used to. She would kiss away his tears and his mood would instantly lighten. But he was a full grown man now. The only happiness he would find was in Michonne's arms. Such a cruel thing this was! Carol would never question the gods, but to bring the boy such happiness and then have the two lovers ripped apart.
She supposed they all should be grateful. Michonne had done what she had been commissioned for. The girl had saved the lord and subsequently had saved them all. She was indeed grateful. But she wanted it all. She wanted her boy alive and with the woman he loved.
She really did miss Michonne. Such a sweet child and so perfect for her lord.
"Forgive me, ye gods... but tis pure cruelty." She mumbled to herself. She could not take any more. Carol abruptly got up from the table and retired to her own chambers.
Sasha's thoughts were similar to Carol's. She was mourning the loss of a friend, and she hated to see Richard suffer so. When she had been instructed to quietly place the box in Richard's trunk, she had known then that Michonne's time with them was nearing an end. She had begged, and pleaded, asked and raged at the voice inside her. But it had been strangely quiet. Her gift had been nearly useless, and she remained without answers.
The gold box was gone, too.
Sasha had hoped to do some sort of spell to bring Michonne back. But her friend had vanished. Well, that was not exactly true. She had been across the hall in Michonne's rooms the night she had been taken from them. She had heard Michonne's screams and had cried endlessly for it. Sasha had wanted to help her, but she had been instructed to not interfere with the workings of the gods. But she could not stand the sound of her friend's pain any longer.
Sasha had run to Richard's chambers but she could not get inside. Try as she might, the door would not budge. She had slid to the floor, helpless to do anything but listen to Michonne's sounds of agony as she cried out for Richard.
Sasha felt as if her heart had been ripped in two. No one should be made to ache so.
Then it was unnaturally quiet.
The next time Sasha tried to open the door, it gave way with no resistance. She walked inside to find the room in a state. The balcony door had been flung open, the tapestry was in a pile on the floor; Richard's desk and the parchment and inks were a mess.
It had looked as if a great storm had ravaged the place.
Sasha began to set the room to rights. She did not want Richard to find his chambers in such a state. It would only compound his pain if he felt that Michonne had suffered.
When the room was once again put together, Sasha returned to Michonne's rooms and shed her own tears. She could not make sense of this. She was never in the habit of questioning the gods or the fates. But Michonne had wanted to stay.
Why bring her here and have her fall in love, only to rip her away from all she held dear?
Sasha had no answers. She was as much in the blind now as she had been a week ago when Michonne had been taken from them. All she knew, was there had to be something that could be done. She was fearful that Richard would wither away; and she did not want to think how badly Michonne fared in her own century.
Michonne was between consciousness and sleep.
The room was pitch black and the darkness beyond the blinds confirmed that it was night. She had slept the entire day. Amy Winehouse's "Love Is a Losing Game" played softly on the clock radio.
The song paired with Michonne's loss created a gloomy atmosphere. She wanted to turn the radio off, but her limbs were too heavy with heartache to move. So she lay there, listening to the painful lyrics until sleep once again claimed her.
Richard stood on the balcony of his chambers, his mind a web of bleak thoughts.
For the hundredth time, he mentally replayed the day he had returned to find that Michonne was gone.