June 1, 2017
- Negan -
As they turn off what was once a state highway onto a carefully graveled road winding into the countryside, Negan glances at Honey where she sits in the driver's seat. She seems eerily calm, neither excited nor upset to be approaching her home.
"It was a fancy, expensive as hell girl's boarding school before," she tells him. "Lots of housing in the dorms, which was important before we expanded the walls."
"Don't really need the fucking guided tour, Gorgeous. Just the pissant farmers to agree to what you say they will." The details bore the fuck out of him. That's why he has lieutenants.
Honey's grin is wolfish enough to make him sit up straight. "Two hundred protected acres is unimportant?"
"Two hundred? You got to be fucking kidding me." She has to be. No one has ever held that much land in the seven years since the world goddamn ended.
"Nope." She fucking smirks at him, mischief evident in her expression. "I worked every summer it was legal in my daddy's construction firm before the world got fucked over. Security isn't all guns and fighting."
He needed the warning, Negan realizes, because what rears up in front of them when they clear a treeline feels like a fucking mirage. Ten foot walls, alternating timber logs like something out of a western war movie with iron bars that clash somewhere between prison bars and high class fencing. It would take a fucking tank to get through those walls, because he can see the stain on those timbers that he bets is flame retardant and not to make them pretty.
"Are you fucking playing me?" he growls out, hand clamping over the wrist closest hard enough to feel the bones grind. Negan has already broken his personal rules for this woman, intoxicated by the idea of her. He slept beside her last night, in her own bed, keeping her lean body tucked into his as if she would disappear into a puff of goddamn smoke if he didn't.
Honey arches a brow, eyeing his hand. Something dark flickers across her expression and makes him feel like he's grabbed ahold of a cobra. Negan isn't sure why he lets go, but when he does, that sense of danger fades.
Her smile is grim now, and she looks toward the compound they are still approaching. "This place is stagnant now. I've done all I can do, and now it's all maintenance."
The reasoning registers with him, and Negan guffaws, understanding. She's an adrenaline junkie, much like himself. Sitting behind walls, tame as a damned sheep, doesn't suit her at all. Honey has outgrown this backwater place that spawned her into the apocalyptic world.
"You can build these walls?" The possibility of a fucking fortress to secure his people dances through his head. "Recreate this?"
"With the right equipment, supplies, and motivated workers, yeah. Beauty of this world? We don't have to follow some bean counter's budget." The smirk is back as she pulls to a stop at a set of gates that looks like a mixture of gothic castle and Jurassic Park. Behind them, the rest of the caravan halts.
It dawns for the first time why she asked for control of his drudges. She doesn't want control of the laundry, cooking, and how the toilets are cleaned. The woman wants hard labor out of those seemingly worthless mouths to feed.
She reaches for his arm, curling fingers around his bicep. Unlike his harsh grip earlier, hers seems meant to reassure. "It would probably be a good idea to stay in the truck for now. I didn't design those towers just to look pretty. My own protocol won't allow them to open the gate except by authority of someone who outranks me, and that's only one person."
It's the distraction she needs to keep him immobile, because Negan leans forward to inspect what looked like ornate supports for the massive gates. There's a flash of movement near the top of one as soon as Honey is boots on the ground. Deciding to humor her request, he lowers his window to listen.
"I need to see the king! Ask him to bring Shiva to the gate."
There's a guard on the ground now, emerging from the tower to the left. "You bringing friendlies, ma'am?" the man asks. He carries his rifle with ease, much like Honey handles one, but his dress falls somewhere between old west and renaissance fair.
Honey glances back toward Negan and smiles. "An opportunity for our people."
The guard nods and raises his radio, making the summons she requested. Once the man steps back out of sight behind the tower, Honey strolls back toward the truck. Leaning through the passenger window, she strokes fingers along his inseam, looking almost bored.
"It'll take about ten minutes for the king to make it down here."
"King? Your esteemed fucking leader calls himself a king?" It amuses the hell out of Negan, just the pretentiousness of it. "Where do you stand with this king, if you can summon him so easily?"
She shrugs, still trailing those fingers and reminding him how they feel on bare skin. His body responds like a damned teenager to the touch. "He's my uncle."
The complete assurance she had in telling him her people would agree now makes complete fucking sense. As young as she is, to have such ranking in her community, of course it's goddamn nepotism. "Maybe I should call you princess?" he drawls, making her give him a sly, Cheshire Cat smile.
Negan likes the fucking irony of the name. It implies something sweet and in need of protection. Instead, she's as deadly and worldly as any knight. He doesn't care that they have an audience from those towers, dragging her in for a filthy kiss that promises more once the tedium of bureaucracy is done.
Her hand wanders enough to make him regret the long drive home, but even he isn't so distracted by his damned cock that he misses the grinding sound of the gates opening. Honey winks at him as she backs away from the truck to stride forward, gaze on the dozen people at the gate. But it isn't the flamboyantly dressed humans that catch his eye.
It's the fucking tiger on a chain like the self-styled king is walking a goddamn yap dog.
- Honey -
"Uncle Ezekiel!"
"Hannah Catherine! Welcome home!"
When Ezekiel opens his arms wide, inviting a hug, Honey finally allows relief to settle into her mind. She wasn't entirely sure he would understand the request to revert to the man she first met, back when Shiva was his favored sidekick and not just his beloved aging pet. She's slightly taller than him, but it still feels so good to finally not feel alone in her plan that she allows herself a moment to bury her face against his shoulder and half voice a moment of sorrow.
His arms tighten around her, and she doesn't think anyone else hears it when he reassures her. "Whatever it is you need, it is yours, my friend."
Blinking to clear the sudden rush of tears that Ezekiel trusts her judgement this much, she finally lets him go after he kisses her cheek. They have an audience to impress.
Her heart sinks when she sees one of Ezekiel's leather armor clad guards is Jazz, bookending Ezekiel with Jerry for an impressive display of masculine bulk. She chances meeting his eyes. The pain there makes her flinch. "Trust me, che'lu, please."
Jazz blinks. "Always."
Reassured her brother will play along as long as he thinks she's safe, Honey greets Shiva. It's always a risk, petting the tiger like she is some sort of housecat, but Ezekiel wouldn't have her out if it wasn't a good day. The big cat allows the caress, chuffing contentedly.
"I met some allies while I was lost, uncle." She reluctantly stops touching Shiva's furry shoulders to indicate the vehicles outside the gate. "They've agreed to patrol our area for walkers if we supply their people with sufficient food."
The Kingdom has the food to spare, and Honey knows her parents will happily replace anything needed for the subterfuge if Ezekiel requests. No one here will suffer hunger for her plan to work.
Ezekiel strokes his beard thoughtfully. "It would be quite a godsend to not risk our people in the wilderness when we have more pressing needs at home. The fields promise us a lush harvest this year, and we shall need all our able bodies to bring in the bounty. What payment have you negotiated?"
Thank God for Ezekiel's intelligence and adaptation. She points to the cargo trucks. "Two for fresh produce. Two for preserved foods. That's the initial payment. After that, two trucks of fresh per month until the end of harvest."
It's what she estimates will be required just to keep the Saviors alive, including the drudges, for the time she's working to secure enough loyalty to save the vulnerable. She doesn't intend for more than two future monthly payments to be made, but those children will not starve in the meantime. The irony is that they've supported a struggling community for free before. In a different scenario, there would be no need for the implied threat Negan seems to think is required.
"That sounds fair enough for such services." Ezekiel glides his hand along Shiva's back. "And for returning you safely to us. Perhaps that merits a greater reward than fruits and vegetables."
Encouraged that he's playing along even further, she smiles, pretending relief as she looks back to where Negan lurks in the truck. He's a hedonist, she knows. What will encourage him to believe the medieval kingdom even more?
"How did the latest brewing turn out?"
Laughing heartily, Ezekiel gestures toward the truck. "Have your friend join us. I would like to meet the man who promises such security in exchange for a well filled belly."
Negan obviously hears, stepping out of the truck. His leather jacket contrasts with the rich velvet of Ezekiel's robe, and she's surprised he left the bat in the truck. His stride is cocksure, but she sees the tension in his shoulders as he comes within range of the tiger.
"Uncle Ezekiel, this is Negan, the leader of the Saviors. Negan, this is King Ezekiel. Our home is known simply as the Kingdom." Both men exchange a smile that does not reach their eyes, but so far, no shooting has erupted at least.
"Welcome, Negan, and accept our thanks for bringing our beloved niece home to us."
The look Negan gives her is clearly questioning whether Ezekiel is completely full of shit with his royal we, but when she smiles, he shrugs. "The princess didn't tell you that she offered her services to my people in establishing our base of operations."
That gets her Ezekiel's concerned gaze, but more worryingly, a disgruntled noise from her brother that draws Negan's attention right to where she doesn't really want it.
"Holy shit, your highness. What the hell do you feed people around here?" There's a note of wariness in Negan's voice, as he looks between Honey and Jazz.
Bless him, Ezekiel laughs, that rich, amused sound that always makes her want to smile. "I'm afraid I can make no claim to being the reason my niece and nephew are so tall. Their late mother comes from an island people known for immense height, much like my bodyguard, Jerry."
Jazz plays along, thankfully, tugging off the costumed helm and finally breaking bodyguard character enough for Honey to hug him tightly. She turns just enough to peek out at Negan. "This is my baby brother, Jasper."
"Not sure that term applies to your brother much anymore, princess."
"Oh, he will be eighty and still the baby," she declares. The more she shows Jazz as subordinate to her, the safer he is from Negan's mercurial moods. "He is our veterinarian."
There. Jazz is a healer, not a warrior. He's play acting like Ezekiel. That's what Negan needs to believe. Nevermind that both men are capable warriors, not when she needs her people seen as non-threatening for her plan to work.
"Veterinarian, huh. You have enough damn critters for that to be necessary?" The gleam in Negan's eyes tells her that he's understood the prospect of fresh meat.
"We do. It has been a stellar year for our cattle and sheep in particular. The request for fresh food would include beef and lamb. I should get that delivery arranged." Ezekiel taps at Jerry's arm, and the big man hands over a radio. He lays out the order efficiently. "While we wait, perhaps we can provide refreshments?"
Honey restrains from laughing even as she reluctantly lets her brother go. "You are always prepared," she tells Ezekiel.
Homeblown bottles, sealed with corks, are brought forward, and one is given first to Negan to sample. "That is a damn fine homebrew," he exclaims, looking pleased. Waving a hand, he lets Jerry drift by with a basket of the chilled bottles for the rest.
A vehicle approaches, but this one isn't the payment. The mouthwatering scent of roast pork drifts to Honey from the metal trough used to serve up a whole pig. Ezekiel is offering up one of the pit cooked pigs served at the first of each month as part of a community celebration of the Kingdommers.
Tables and chairs are set up outside the gate, and she's grateful Negan's made no fuss about not being invited inside. He seems more than willing to accept the makeshift picnic offered to his soldiers, especially when Shiva's chain is secured to the inside base of one of the gate towers. But the food only distracts him for so long.
Cleaning his fingers on the offered napkin, the head of the Saviors eyes Ezekiel critically. "You never commented on the princess staying with my people."
Ezekiel spreads his hands in that theatrical way that conveys so much more than a simple shrug. "Our Hannah is of age and capable of her own decisions. If she has agreed to live within your community to assist its establishment, I will not be naysaying her decision."
The king's genial expression shifts, showing more of his canny intelligence than he's allowed to shine so far. "Some alliances are cemented by more than an exchange of goods and services, are they not? Sometimes they are of a more personal nature."
Negan's grin shows too much tooth to be entirely pleasant, but he nods. She's surprised that the man makes no overt claim, but she suspects he's too off center to go for crass behavior yet. Ezekiel has grasped the situation so clearly it is a relief.
If Jazz is here, it makes Honey wonder. Are any more of her family here? The idea that she won't be seen to reassure her parents makes her heart ache. And Paul and Eugene are nowhere to be seen, odd in itself.
"I will need the assistance of our engineer," she ventures, reaching for the lifeline she needs even more than Ezekiel and Jazz. "Is he on property today?"
Ezekiel shakes his head, looking disappointed. "I'm afraid he is out with the teams trying to locate you. We did signal the searchers to return home, but his team crossed into the capital in their efforts today."
The ache in her chest is raw and needy. She explains for Negan's sake. "Radio reception is questionable in DC. We have never been able to find out why."
"Do you really need this engineer?" There's a furrow in Negan's brow that tells her to tread carefully.
"He has a special expertise with electricity generation and the distillation of biofuel. He designs and I build. But he can manage to send me plans with our next delivery, I suppose." Shrugging, she toys with the remnants of food on her plate as beneath the table, Negan's hand closes briefly around her knee.
Further discussion is curtailed as the wagon loads of food arrive. Ezekiel's people rely on draft horses for much of their farm work, preferring to reserve vehicles for trips outside the walls. It emphasizes the agricultural kingdom image well. Transferring everything doesn't take long, and all too soon, Honey is hugging her brother and Ezekiel in farewell.
To Ezekiel, she whispers quietly, "It is a Woodbury, and I am our Daniel." The statement won't mean much to the king, but once he repeats it, her family will understand. Daniel Navarro's near death by torture at the Governor's hands once his spying was discovered is something no Dixon will forget.
"Rather than a monthly delivery, we should deliver fresh foods weekly. It will be useless to send you vegetables that rot faster than you can eat them. Meat will be easier to send as well," Ezekiel proposes.
Honey could kiss the man for the ploy to allow her to check in more often. It's a sensible suggestion, too, as many items don't last long off the vine, and she doubts the gluttonous Saviors will ration out beef. She glances to Negan, who shrugs.
"Whatever keeps my people fed best and the payment worthwhile for the risk we take."
As they drive away, Negan's hand wanders possessively along her leg. "Seeing your baby brother going to be enough? Or will you get fucking homesick and trot back to your royal title and welcoming family?"
Honey sighs and gives him a smile she knows isn't as firm as she likes. She opts for lacing truth into the deception. "For a long time, he was mine to raise. Our father worked, we had no mother, so it was us against the world. But he has a life and a family now, and it is safe behind those walls. I don't have to hover over him like a mother who can't cut the apron strings."
He doesn't respond, just studies her with those too clever eyes.
"Building your Sanctuary makes him safer, Negan. That's the important part where my brother is concerned."
Why that makes him smile like the cat that ate the canary, she doesn't know and doesn't have time to ask. Ahead of them, just where they turn north, are two Humvees trundling back toward the Kingdom.
"These are friendlies," she declares, spotting the encircled H of Hilltop on the hoods. "Recalled from the search."
When they stop, she has to calm her heart, because the first person to step out of the lead vehicle's passenger seat is Eugene.
A/N: It's been a lot of chapters ago, but this dynamic of king and princess has been brewing since Ezekiel and Honey met. 😉
What does Negan think he's realized about Jazz's importance to Honey? Only time will tell.
Her not being told about Logan is deliberate.