AN: Here we are. I had a few chapters planned in this short story, but I wasn't sure that anyone would be interested. It seems that a few of you are, so I'll share them with you as I'm able.

I just want to remind everyone that I haven't been watching the show. I also don't write the show. I didn't make the decision to have Carol and Ezekiel marry in the first place. The fic is simply a way for me to reconcile things. There are thousands of ways that fic writers could do this. This is just one of them that came to me. I don't mean to upset anyone and you have my apologies if you feel upset.

I hope you enjoy the chapter as it prepares us to move forward.

Please let me know what you think!

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The morning sickness in the earliest days of Carol's pregnancy had been brutal enough that she had almost come to believe that she was finally being punished for everything she'd done wrong in her life. If the punishment the morning sickness doled out hadn't been enough, what it did to her body seemed to have knocked her immune system offline entirely. Every illness that came into the Kingdom found its way to her room somehow and she contracted it all at once. One thing after enough had slammed her body until she'd finally succumbed to it all enough to accept defeat and the bedrest that the doctor prescribed to her when there was nothing else to be done.

In between bouts of illness and fever—sometimes feeling like she might die and other times feeling like she was absolutely on the verge of losing another child—Carol had found the time to meticulously stumble through the events of her life and marvel at how, no matter where it seemed that she ended up, she always got there with the strange sense of ending up waist deep in something with no recollection of how she'd let herself get so deep in and with no knowledge of how to get herself out.

After she ran from Tobin, she had never intended to end up with anyone. But Daryl needed her, and she love him, and Ezekiel had needed her, and she'd cared for him...and Henry had needed her.

And somewhere, her self-worth had gotten tangled up with being needed. She'd almost gone blindly to wherever it was that she was needed.

She'd done things that she could never reconcile because that was what someone had needed her to do.

Maybe the only person whose needs she had consistently ignored was the one person she could never actually be without.

She had needs, too, even if she'd always silenced them.

She'd told Ezekiel as much when she was consumed by a bout of fever, and he hadn't let her forget it when the fever had passed.

Henry knew that the Kingdom was little more than an elaborate fantasy. It was a community like any other of the communities, and its people and contributions were real, but he knew that Ezekiel only called himself King and created the façade of a kingdom to give his people a respite from a harsh reality and to give them something to believe in. Ezekiel was not their king because he actually believed himself to be a king.

Henry knew, as well, that Carol wasn't a queen.

Henry understood the difference between make-believe and reality, and they hoped that having that understanding would help him when they explained the truth to him about their marriage.

The marriage, itself—the wedding and all that had really followed—had really been something for the people. In a time when morale was dropping and something of a depression was settling over the people, a royal wedding created a wonderful piece of fairytale to lift everyone's spirits. The marriage also helped, politically, to create a stronger bond and closer sense of kinship among those that belonged to the Kingdom and those that belonged to the other communities which held more of Carol's long-ago-adopted family.

But now, perhaps, it was time to let the curtain fall.

They'd spoken to Henry even before Carol felt well enough to be confident that she or the baby would survive the bouts of sickness that had attacked her. He was old enough to understand now. He was old enough to know.

But the truth had still surprised him, and it had shattered, at least a little, the reality that he thought he knew. His parents loved one another, because they'd told him that themselves, but they'd never quite loved each other in the way that he'd imagined.

Henry had run away, but he hadn't gone far. Ezekiel had found him at the cabin that Carol still used from time to time when she needed an escape. Whether it was what Ezekiel said to him or the fact that he was worried about Carol—Carol couldn't be sure which—Henry had come back quickly and declared that, though he was upset, he supported both of his parents and their decisions. He would support them, too, as they brought the truth to light for the people of the Kingdom.

Before the Kingdom could know, though, someone else needed to know a bit more about their lives.

Carol had been too sick to make it to the Hilltop where she might have had an ultrasound. She'd been too sick to really even be concerned with making it out of her bed. She didn't know how far along she was, and she could only guess that the baby she was carrying was healthy because there was nothing that had happened to tell her otherwise.

Whether it had been because of the weight she'd lost, because her body had once before accommodated the growth of another child, or because it had taken a while for her to realize that she was carrying the baby, Carol couldn't say, but she felt that she already had a quite noticeable bump to mark the spot where the child was growing.

It was starting to show itself in other ways, too.

Carol felt a strong hand wrap around her arm as she nearly toppled backward while trying to get to her feet after kneeling down to examine some of their growing vegetables more closely. She was practically placed securely on her feet so that her changing balance didn't cause her any harm.

"My queen," Jerry said, beaming at her when she turned around to face him. "The wagon is ready now."

Jerry had taken her illness very badly. He'd come to check on her nearly every day and he'd offered to care for her, himself, whenever Ezekiel needed to be absent for one reason or another. He'd been clearly afraid that she'd simply give up and let one of the high fevers consume her entirely. Carol already knew that he would take it hard when she and Ezekiel exposed the truth about their relationship and the child she was carrying, but she was confident that he'd come around and, one day, he'd understand.

"I asked you not to call me that, Jerry," Carol said. She softened her scolding with a smile. She wasn't really mad at him, but she didn't care for the fake title.

Jerry beamed back at her.

"One day," he offered. "How is the princess?"

Carol felt her cheeks run warm. She still wasn't used to the idea that she was carrying a baby even though enough time had passed that it should have become more natural to her. It still didn't feel right for others to talk about it. It felt foreign. Jerry would have a special interest in the child, however, due to his closeness to Ezekiel and, by extension, his affections for Carol.

"We don't know that it's a girl, Jerry," Carol replied.

Jerry renewed his smile.

"Her mother saw it in a dream, and that's good enough for me until we have other proof," Jerry said.

"It was less a dream and more a fever-driven hallucination," Carol said. "But the baby is fine as far as I can tell."

Jerry was clearly pleased.

"The wagon is ready," he repeated. "And the prince and the king are waiting. I can accompany you, if you'd like."

"Henry and I will be fine," Carol assured him.

She started in the direction where she knew that she'd find the wagon. Jerry walked with her, keeping step even though his strides were naturally larger than hers.

"To the Hilltop?" Jerry asked. "Or—off on another quest?"

Carol laughed to herself.

Ezekiel called her trips to see Daryl "visits to her Wildman" when they spoke among themselves. When he spoke to the people of the Kingdom, he simply said that she was going on a "Quest". She'd asked him once while he told them that instead of telling them something else, and he'd explained that a quest was a journey in search of something, and that he always felt that Carol was going in search of a piece of herself when she ventured out to meet her Wildman.

He'd asked her more than once if she'd found what she was looking for when she got back. She'd always told him that she hadn't quite found what she was looking for and that, perhaps, she wasn't even sure what she was seeking or if Daryl had it to offer.

The twisting sensation in her gut made her feel strangely hopeful that she'd find it this time—or at least that she'd finally find an answer that she could settle with.

"A quest," Carol said.

"I hope it is a successful one," Jerry offered.

"Me too," Carol said sincerely.

When she reached the wagon, Ezekiel was standing there with Henry. The few things they'd take with them were already loaded in the back of the wagon. It would have been checked out for safety, but there would be tools for emergencies in the back, along with weapons. The horses had been fed and watered, but there would be provisions for them as well.

Ezekiel smiled at her as she walked up and he reached out a hand. When Carol caught it, he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to her cheek. She smiled to herself.

Henry watched the two of them. He didn't say anything, but Carol could see something in his expression. He was trying to read them. Knowing the truth as he now knew it, he was trying to come to terms with things. He was trying to understand what each touch, gesture, and expression meant.

Carol offered him a smile. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure you don't mind coming with me?" She asked. "I can drive the horses on my own, you know."

"You need someone to look out for you," Henry said.

Carol laughed to herself and Henry's face finally broke from his stern expression to give way to a little joviality.

"I was taking care of myself a long time before you came into my life," Carol offered.

"Mom..." was all that Henry offered, the word coming out with a bit of laughter attached to it. He didn't say anything else. He turned and immediately walked around, crawling onto the wagon. Ezekiel offered Carol a jacket that he'd carried tossed over his shoulder.

"It's getting chilly," he said. "It'll be colder on the wagon. You're not fully recovered. The least you can do is try to keep as well as possible."

Carol smiled at him and thanked him quietly. He held it out for her and she let him help her put it on, though she was fully capable of dressing herself. He caught her by the upper part of the arms and squeezed her muscles.

"I can go with you if you want," he said.

Carol glanced at Jerry. They would tell the Kingdom together, but this wasn't the time and it wasn't the way for the Kingdom to learn about their little charade.

"I think it's better if you don't," Carol said. "It would be hard for you."

"I could do it if you needed me to," he offered.

"It would make things more difficult," Carol said. "If you need Henry here..."

"Henry wants to go," Ezekiel said. "He won't hear otherwise."

Carol nodded.

"We'll make it before dark," Carol said.

"If you see that you won't," Ezekiel said, "stop somewhere. Don't take chances."

"I won't," Carol said. "Not with Henry."

"And other precious cargo," Ezekiel offered.

Carol felt her cheeks run warm.

"That too," she said.

"It looks to be a clear day," Ezekiel said. "But if it should rain, seek shelter. Don't stay out in the elements too long. You're not fully recovered."

"I'm well," Carol assured him. "But we'll take cover."

Ezekiel leaned forward and Carol allowed him to peck her lips before she accepted the warm hug that he offered her. Then she bid farewell to Jerry and started to climb onto the wagon. With Henry reaching for her hand to pull her up and Ezekiel boosting her from behind, she had no chance of falling off the side of the wagon in her ascent.

"Henry—take care of your mother," Ezekiel offered.

"If she'll let me," Henry offered with a laugh.

Even though she would normally drive the team herself, Carol let Henry take the reins. She sat back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the slight chill in the air as they started out of the Kingdom with Henry driving.

She'd woken up that morning with a heaviness in her chest—a heaviness that had been there for a very long time—but, suddenly, she was feeling lighter than she could recall having felt in a while.

She slid over, closer to her son on the wagon's seat. This wasn't his first time visiting Daryl—even if he'd never known the nature of their relationship before—and Carol trusted that he could remember where to go for at least the next little while.

This time, she could just enjoy getting there.