A/N: Thank you for the reviews and follows. Thanks to those who reached out to me to chat about this story. I appreciate you all so very much. This instalment has a slight change of pace. I hope you like it.

Her Ladyship usually felt jovial when she was afforded the opportunity to visit with her daughter. In the early days, when she had found out she was pregnant, she was sad. Mainly because the customs of the land dictated that any Tribute who bears children to their Lord has no right as the child's legal guardian. She knew John would take the child from her. She had almost resigned herself to the fact that she would be able to walk away; that she would be able to return to her homelands without her offspring. But when, after a dangerous and arduous labor, the small, defenceless child let out her first cry, Lady Michonne knew she could not abandon her. She could not leave her daughter there with the Usurper. So she stayed. She accepted his marriage proposal, and stayed at the Citadel.

That was fifteen years ago. Today, as Michonne takes breakfast with her daughter, she feels hopeful for the first time in a long time. Though she had settled into her life with Lord John, there was still this part of her that wanted to flee. That wanted to take the child and run away. But she knew His Lordship would never let them leave; he would track them to the ends of the earth. Now, with her father's emissary inside of the walls of the Citadel, she knows they have an ally. With a plan in place, she knows they have a chance.

"I almost forgot to show you this," says Missy to Michonne, as she reaches inside of her small bag and retrieves something. It is a brown leather cuff with elaborate embossments all over it. The teen holds it out in her palm, her mother picks it up. She turns it over in her hand; it is quite exquisite.

"This is beautiful," says Lady Michonne. "You made this yourself?"

"Yes," she answers with a smile. "I've been working on it for a little while now. It's for father."

"A gift for his birthday?"

"Yes," she supplies. "I know it'll be a busy day, and that I probably won't be allowed to stay after the feast, but I really want to spend the day with him; with you, too."

"I'd love that," Her Ladyship replies in earnest.

"So I was thinking if I gave him his gift early, he'd be in a good mood and I'd get to spend the whole day with you both," says Missy with a hopeful look on her face.

"I'll talk to him," says Michonne. "He'll listen to me. And that way, you can hold onto the gift until his birthday. I know it'll mean so much more to you both if you wait, okay?"

Missy nods her head and gives her mother a small smile, before replying, "Okay."

Just then, the door to their private dining quarters swings open, and the man in question steps inside.

"Hello, My Loves," he greets Michonne and Missy.

"Good morning, My Lord," they each reply in unison as he takes up a seat. An Attendant rushes to his side with coffee. His wife discreetly places the cuff back in the bag.

"Thank you for letting us share breakfast today," Lady Michonne says.

"You're welcome," John replies. "I'll be quite busy with preparations for the tourney for my birthday, so I thought it'd be good for all of us to spend some time together."

"That's a nice gesture," says Lady Michonne.

"It's more of a selfish thing for me," he says, and she is unable to read if he is joking; she fears he is not. "You've been spending so much time away from me lately. I must admit that I miss you."

"I know you're busy, My Lord," Michonne replies, hoping he is not in the mood to start an argument, especially in front of their daughter. "I wanted to give you space after Liberalia. The time between the Festival and your birthday is so short. I thought you might need the spare time to focus."

"Mmm," he replies, tearing a piece of toast in half. "What I need is my wife with me, not off with some common Tribute."

Michonne closes her eyes a second; she finds his jealousy asinine.

"Please," she says. "Let's not discuss this in front of Missy."

The teenager lowers her head. She understands that their family is not conventional, and that there is a strain between her parents. She doesn't like to see them at odds. She silently wishes her father would listen to her mother. They rarely have moments together anymore, and she just wants to enjoy it without him ruining it.

"Of course," he says. "Forgive me. I just miss you."

He reaches over and takes her hand. Missy lifts her head.

"When the tourney is finished, we can spend more time together," says Her Ladyship.

"I look forward to it," he offers. "And I do regret being absent, but I do want you to enjoy yourself in my absence."

"As you wish, My Lord," she says with a small smile.

"Just remember that you're my wife," he adds with ice laced through his tone.

Michonne nods her head in his direction, before lifting his hand to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

"Of course," she replies. "How could I forget? Now, I thought we could broach the subject of our daughter's new Attendant."

Lord John drinks from his coffee and raises an eyebrow.

"Is the current Attendant not going to stay on?" he asks.

"It seems not," Her Ladyship replies. "They only have a couple more weeks of their residency left. She has indicated that she would like to return home. It's been a long time for her."

Lord John nods his head, before replying, "Yes, it has. Do you have a replacement in mind?"

"I do," says Lady Michonne. "The young woman who was brought before you for injuring a fellow Tribute."

"The rowdy Southern lass?" he asks. "Daughter of the physician?"

"Yes," says Michonne.

"The young lady who will be fighting in the Arena in a matter of days?"

"Yes, the very one."

Lord John leans back in his chair and gives his wife a dubious stare.

"Why her?" he asks.

"She is a good fighter," says Michonne. "She can protect Missy at the same time as attend to her day-to-day needs."

"You want to shorten her sentence?"

"Once she fights in the Arena, her debt will be paid, surely," says Michonne.

John contemplates her words a moment, before she adds more to her argument.

"I want someone with our daughter who can protect her," she offers. "Missy is growing into a young woman. I don't like the brutish guards who you have following her around. They look at her in ways they shouldn't. Their eyes linger. It's unbecoming."

Lord John's eyes narrow as he lets the words sink in. He would not have anyone look at his daughter in an improper manner. Perhaps a female Attendant who was skilled with a sword would be better suited to tending to their child.

"Very well," he offers. "Have someone fetch her after training."

"I'll get her," says Her Ladyship. "I will better acquaint myself with her, and make sure to ask a few questions."

…..

The afternoon sun is high in the sky as Lady Michonne walks along the border of the training grounds. She is dressed in practical clothing, having just finished training sessions with the younglings.

"The Lady of the Citadel is present!" Morgan calls out. All of the combatants cease their training and take a knee. Her Ladyship's eyes find Rick. He stares at her a moment, a glint of happiness in his gaze. The corner of her full lips turn up into a small grin as she recalls their tryst from the night before. She draws her eyes away from him and looks at his friend, Maggie.

"Morgan, I need to see the young woman a moment," says Michonne.

"As you wish, My Lady," he replies, with a dip of his head. "Maggie. Her Ladyship requests your presence."

Right away, Maggie gets to her feet, dusts off her clothing, and approaches Michonne.

"As you were," says Michonne with a wave of her hand. The combatants resume their training.

Her Ladyship walks away, and Maggie follows her, as does Rick's gaze. When the two women are out of earshot of anyone else, Michonne stops and faces the younger woman.

"How are you, Maggie?" she asks.

"I'm doin' fine, thank you," she replies.

"How is training?"

"It's good, My Lady," Maggie offers earnestly. "I'm keen to compete in the tourney."

"I'm keen to see you compete," Michonne says sincerely. "It'll be a nice change from watching these men duke it out."

Maggie nods her head.

"Speaking of change," Michonne starts. "How would you like a change of position here?"

"My Lady?" asks Maggie, in need of clarification.

"I am offering you the chance to be an Attendant for a child in Lord John's charge," she explains.

"His daughter, My Lady? I mean, your daughter?"

"Yes," says Michonne. "She has not formally been presented at Court, but will be on his birthday. Her current Attendant will be leaving us, soon. I want someone who is a strong fighter to ward her. Is this something you can do?"

"Yes, My Lady," Maggie replies truthfully. "It'd be an honor. I humbly accept your offer."

"Great," says Lady Michonne with a smile. "Your training for the day is finished. You will come with me to meet your young mistress, and to learn the ropes from her old Attendant. When you finish up this evening, someone will bring you to my chambers to debrief. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship. Thank you, Your Ladyship."

…..

Sweat glistens all over Lady Michonne's beautifully dark skin. Her strong legs rest on the arms of the throne that sits in her personal quarters. She tightens the silk scarf in her deft hands, and it constricts around Rick's throat. It squeezes just enough to cause him to grow lightheaded, heightening his euphoric state, but not enough that it impedes his ministrations at the apex of her delta.

Kneeling at her feet, Rick works his lips and tongue over her sweet sex. He moans into her slick folds as he laps at her, drinking her nectar, breathing in her aroma. He stiffens his pink tongue and dips it inside, as he rubs his nose against her hooded bud. All the while her loud, brazen moans spur him on as he is allowed to strum his hand up and down his hard cock.

"Fuck," she breathes. "You're such a good boy."

He hums against her clit.

"Hmmmmm," she moans. "Make me come. I want to come in your mouth."

Determined to please his lady, he flattens his tongue and works it over her sensitive crux, alternating between sucking and licking. Just as her toes begin to curl, there comes a loud rapping at her door.

"Stop," she commands frustratedly, and Rick does so. "Who is it?"

"Forgive me for this intrusion, My Lady, but it's me, Maggie."

Michonne sighs loudly, and then replies, "One moment."

She loosens the scarf from around Rick's throat and then says, "Stand up."

He does as he is told and stands before her. Her eyes fall to his ever-impressive cock, before she trails them back up to his face.

"Turn around and present your wrists at your back," she commands, and the Tribute happily obliges. Lady Michonne binds his wrists together with the silk scarf before standing up behind him. She reaches her hand around and takes hold of his rigid erection. "Wait for me behind the curtain."

"Yes, My Lady."

"So hard," she whispers in his ear before stroking his cock. "I don't want you playing with it until I get back there."

"Whatever you wish, I will do."

"Why is that?" she teases.

"Because you own me," Rick says with joy.

She grips his engorged sex harder and pulls firmly, before asking close to his ear, "Who owns this big, hard cock?"

"You do, My Lady."

She smiles, and then presses a soft kiss to his neck.

"Good," she offers. "Now go and wait for me."

After her Tribute makes his way behind the veil, Lady Michonne closes her robe, fixes her hair, and then walks over to her chamber door. She opens it and greets the young woman.

"Enter," she says, before walking back to her throne. The room smells of sweat and sex.

Maggie follows behind her, and then kneels on the cushion that is on the floor. Michonne is impressed by her obedience.

"How was your first day on the job?" she asks.

"I enjoyed it very much, Your Ladyship."

"Did you go to where the Young Miss of the Citadel stays?" Michonne probes.

"Yes, My Lady," says Maggie. "But –"

"But, what?"

"They were strict in tellin' me that I'm not allowed to tell anyone about it," she admits. "Not even you."

"I see," says Michonne, expecting as much. "What do you think of that?"

"I am here to serve His Lordship and follow his rules."

"That's not an answer," says Michonne, as she walks over to Maggie and strokes her hair. "What do you really think about me not being privy to my daughter's whereabouts?"

Maggie thinks about what her Lady is asking. The other Attendant, who is very loyal, told her where they house the Young Miss was not to be disclosed to anyone, even Her Ladyship. Maggie finds this odd, and wonders why. She would ponder it some more, but her Lady is awaiting an answer.

"It's strange, My Lady," she replies. "That they keep her from you. It isn't fair."

"You're right," replies Michonne, as she cups Maggie's face in her hand. "It isn't. Just like it isn't fair that you can't fraternize with that handsome young man, what is his name?"

Maggie's eyes grow wide, surely Her Ladyship does not know about her dalliances. She was certain they were being discreet.

"The young Attendant?" says Michonne, as she brushes Maggie's hair from her face. "Ah, yes; Glenn. Young Glenn."

Maggie feels her heart drop.

"You know, sometimes His Lordship's rules are silly," says Michonne as she retreats and takes up a seat on her throne. "I can say it, I am his wife, after all."

She winks at Maggie, who gives her a nervous smile.

"His rule about Tributes not being able to get to know one another," Michonne continues. "That's a silly one, just like me not being allowed to know where he keeps my child. So, you see, Maggie, maybe you and I can help one another and bend his rules. What do you say?"

"I don't know, My Lady," she offers. "It's dangerous."

"You will have my protection," Michonne assures her. "And you will be given time and a secluded place to see young Glenn, if you wish. Would you like that?"

Maggie is conflicted, but her heart longs for Glenn. She wants more time with him, and if her Lady says it is a possibility, then she must take her up on her offer.

"Yes, My lady. Thank you, My Lady," she answers. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to keep this to yourself. Not a word to anyone, do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady."

"I will seek you out in a few days," says Michonne. "Then I will tell you what I need. Now go."

Maggie offers a quick nod of her head, gets to her feet, and then exits the room. Lady Michonne locks the door behind her, and then steps behind her curtain. She finds Rick waiting on his knees. She smiles down at him.

"Getting your friend involved was a good idea," she says, while gesturing for him to get to his feet.

Rick stands and nods his head before replying, "Yes, My Lady."

Michonne takes hold of his erection and pulls it, leading him back out to the sitting room. She brings him to the spot in front of her throne as she takes up a seat, and parts her legs. Rick's eyes fall to her succulent lips; they are still slick from before. His cock twitches as he salivates at the sight.

She lifts her legs back to the arms of the seat; her moist, swollen folds open like a blooming flower.

"Tomorrow, I want you to tell her you overheard our conversation," says Michonne, as she uses two fingers to rub her juices up to her clit, causing Rick's breath to hitch. "See if she divulges anything. Can you do that for me?"

He swallows hard as she slips her fingers inside of her dripping wet pussy.

"Yes, My Lady," says Rick. "I can do that for you."

"Good," says Michonne with a smile, as she withdraws her fingers and sucks them into her mouth. "Now get on your knees and finish what we started."

Rick does as he is told, and brings his lips back to her sex as he licks the length of her slit. She closes her eyes and grins. The plan is falling into place. Working with him is a good idea. He is smart and perceptive; she knows she made a good choice. As Rick sucks her clit, she thinks back to the night before.

The wick of the candle is almost burnt out. Lady Michonne is unsure of what the exact time is, but she knows the hour is late. She and her Tribute are engaging in pillow talk, having worked out the finer details of her plan. He has agreed to assist her in leaving the Citadel. When the time is right, they will take her daughter and flee. It is not going to be an easy feat, but Rick Grimes assures her it can be done. He is loyal to her father, and will do all in his power to ensure Michonne will return to her true home. He will make sure they exit safely and discreetly, leaving the Usurper behind.

They lie in comfortable silence as Rick contemplates what needs to be done in the near future. Lady Michonne muses that it feels almost surreal to have someone who is completely on her side. To have someone who does not serve His Lordship; to have someone who will help her in making her dream to escape a reality. Lord John's dominion over his realm, and over his wife, were too strong. She had no real allies, no real supporters. Now, as she lies naked beside the Tribute, she knows change is afoot.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks; he turns his head so that he may look at her.

"About all the things I need to do," he replies.

Lady Michonne leans up on her elbow and glances at Rick lying flat on his back beside her, before asking, "What exactly are you willing to do for me?"

"Whatever it is you want me to do," he answers.

"Find where he keeps my daughter?"

"Yes," he offers sincerely.

"Secure our passage?"

"Of course."

"Will you kill the Lord of the Citadel if the need to arises?"

"Without hesitation," he replies almost too eagerly.

Silence pervades as their eyes lock.

"Is it your wish that I speak freely on these matters tonight, My Lady?" he asks with caution.

"Yes," she says earnestly.

"Then I may ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," she offers.

"Do you trust me?"

"I do," she replies. "You are a man of honor. You spent your residency in my home. You are a Vassal of my father. A man from my homelands. I trust you. I feel like I know you."

"And I feel the same about you," Rick offers. "I want you to know that you can trust me. I want you to know that I pledge myself to you, My Lady. I pledge my sword and my service. I pledge my body and my soul. Whatever it is you want from me, it's yours. If you want the Usurper dead, I will cut him down with his own blade. If you want me to lay down my life for you, I will gladly die. I am your humble servant. I will do your bidding. I am yours."

Lady Michonne cannot help but smile. She reaches her hand over and places it to Rick's chest.

"Being the Lady of the Citadel has afforded me many privileges," she starts. "I have wealth beyond measure. Attendants at my beck and call. Walls and guards to protect me; a husband who grants me almost anything I desire. And sworn allegiance. But never, in my whole time of being here, have I fully believed anyone like I believe you, Rick Grimes. All of these posturers who surround me, their words of praise seem hollow compared to yours. And for the life of me, I can't explain why that is. Why do you speak with such ardent devotion for a woman you have only just begun to know?"

Rick smiles back at his Lady. She really has no idea just how enamored he is with her; how enamored he has always been with her. How, since the first moment he laid eyes on her when he came to Court all those years ago, he was struck by her beauty. How she commanded his attention. How he had admired her from afar. How he had longed to touch her; to be in her presence. How he wished he could be the one who welcomed her into womanhood. How he was jealous that she was sent to the Citadel to a man who could not adore her half as much as he did. How he spent his adult life training and waiting for the moment to present itself so that he might come for her. So that he might bring her home. How he needed no payment nor thanks for the privilege.

"I may not know you very well, but I've known you every night in my dreams, My Lady," he says. "From the first time I saw you in your father's home when you looked into my eyes, you've had this power over me, and I can't explain it, but I knew then and there I would be devoted to you. Even now that you've been gracious enough to welcome me into your bed, I want to pinch myself to prove this isn't a dream."

"You've been infatuated with me this whole time, Tribute?"

"Yes, Lady Michonne."

"And your infatuation is reason enough for unyielding devotion?"

"My devotion to you is simple and true. There's no two ways about it, My Lady; I'm yours, in every way. I will be yours, for as long as you desire," he explains honestly. "But my passion for you isn't the reason why I'm devoted to you."

"Then why are you?"

"Because, regardless of your beauty, charm, grace, and power, you deserve it," he offers. "You deserve to be respected and revered and loved."

His words take her breath away. In that moment, alone in the lambent candlelight, Lady Michonne has never felt so adored. She strokes her hand over his firm chest before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He lets her control the pace of the kiss as she parts his lips with her tongue to deepen it. Just when he has settled into it, she draws away from him. She stares into his eyes and runs her hand down the side of his face.

"You want to love and revere me?" she asks while tracing her thumb over his bottom lip.

"Yes, My Lady," he replies. "I want to worship you."

She beams brightly at her Tribute before inching away from him and lying on her back.

"Start with worshipping my body," she commands, as she parts her thighs and waits for him.

"I can touch you freely, Mistress?" he asks. "For your pleasure?"

"Yes," she replies. "You can touch me; taste me; fuck me. You can make love to me. Worship me with every inch of you."

Needing no more encouragement, Rick covers Lady Michonne's body with his as they share another passionate kiss. He needs to be as close to her as possible, so he rests her head on his arm while he positions himself between her thighs. Her figure is hot against his. She feels softer than he ever dreamed she would be. He moves his lips from her mouth, and then presses them to her elegant neck. She tilts her head to the side, affording him better access as he rolls his tongue over her smooth skin. She threads her fingers through his hair as he works his way down to her clavicle, and then lower to her breast.

He is salivating as he sucks one of her dark brown nipples into his mouth, while he palms the other. It stiffens as he swirls his tongue over it, causing her to moan in pleasure. His hand caresses her full breast before he snakes it down her waist and rests at her hip. He reaches around to cup her backside while peppering slow kisses over her chest. Shifting to his knees, he brings both hands to her ass, while lifting her lower half off the bed. She spreads her legs wider for him and waits for him to enter her.

He takes the crown of his sex and runs it over her slick folds. He then uses both thumbs to hold his cock in place as lunges forward and rubs his shaft over her sensitive little nub. She watches keenly as his dripping tip nearly reaches her navel each time he thrusts his hips. He repeats the motion again and yet again until her coaxes her clit from under its hood. Her pussy drips from his attentions. She brings her hands to her chest and begins to pinch her nipples. Rick watches her and feels himself grow harder still.

"Hmmmmm," she moans, as his rigid manhood massages her. "Hurry up, Tribute. Fuck me; worship me."

He draws his length backwards until his rounded head is nestled near her center. His mouth falls open as he slides his thick cock between her swollen lips. She is so wet and warm and tight. She moans as he fills her, and he feels proud that he can elicit such a glorious sound from his Lady. He rests his hand on her hips and slowly thrusts. He glances between their bodies and watches as he slides in and out of her gorgeous lips. His shaft is coated in her arousal; her nectar causing his prick to glisten in the dim candlelight. Engorged, blue-tinged veins are set strikingly against the taut skin his big, raw cock. He has never been this hard before in his life.

"Fuck," she whispers when he quickens his pace and hits her spot.

"Hhnnnn," he moans with each thrust as he grabs her legs and pounds her harder.

Their heavy breathing intermingles with the smacking sound of skin against skin, and the faint sucking of his manhood being driven deeply inside of her tight, hot cunt.

"Oh, god," she cries, as he thrusts harder and faster. A low growl escapes his throat as she clenches her walls around him. She grips hold of his strong arms and raises her body from the damp bed. He takes hold of her back and lifts her body up until it is flush against his chest while she straddles him. They share a messy kiss while he continues to drive himself into her eager sex. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and rolls her hips, meeting his skilful thrusts as he pumps into her again and yet again.

"Fuck," he whimpers. "You're so beautiful, My Lady. God, you're so good."

They kiss again, all lips and tongues and heated breath, as their bodies rock against one another. Both racing toward their release; both aching and dripping to come. To reach the apex of their pleasure.

Lady Michonne brings her hand to Rick's damp curls, as she stares into his eyes. She rides him harder, clenching his cock as she does so. He plunges upwards, hitting her spot over and over.

"Oh, fuck," she breathes. "Ohh, ah, ah, ahhhh."

They hold one another's gaze as their bodies begin to shudder and tremble. He looks into her eyes as she comes hard, creaming all over his pulsing prick. Just as he is about to explodes, he lifts her from off of his length and holds her close.

"Ahh, ahhh, ohhhh," he cries as a hot, sticky stream gushes from his throbbing tip.

They kiss once more as they silence the whimpers spilling from their mouths. They remain that way for the longest time, locked in an embrace while quivering and panting in the thinly lit room. Their moist skin, warm to touch and brackish to taste, feels as if it belongs melded together; their hearts, beating wildly in a matching rhythm. Lady Michonne draws her swollen lips from her Tribute's as she wipes the sweat from his brow with her palm. She smiles down at him. He takes a deep breath and stares into the depths of her umber eyes before offering her a whispered, "Thank you, My Lady. Thank you."