-December-

"See how the snow freezes 'em some?" Daryl and Beth stood in the window, watching a handful of walkers bumble around outside. They were stiffer than usual, these walkers. "If the cold didn't freeze us, too, this would be the time to be on the move."

"At least we always have water now, as long as it keeps snowing." At Beth's words, he tapped his finger against her temple.

"Someone's learnin'." She blushed, glancing down at her feet. "After they pass, I'm gonna try to get that deer."

"Be careful out there." Beth peeked up at him, checking to see if he knew how serious she was. She couldn't imagine being left alone in the world without Daryl, and it had only been a month since they had come to live in this house.

"I'll be back before sundown," Daryl promised. Still, Beth walked Daryl to the door. She knew he planned to hunt today; last night, she had packed some of their dried berries and some almonds she found into a cloth napkin for him. Before the door closed between them, she pressed the napkin into his hand.

Beth couldn't quite read the expression on his face when he looked up at her. It made her blush again, and she found herself explaining herself. "In case you get hungry out there."

The blue of his eyes softened at that, and he gave her a small nod. "Lock the door behind me. I'll knock when I come back."

Without Daryl there, Beth found herself feeling a bit lost. She didn't want to read. She knew she shouldn't play the piano while she was alone. Instead, she pulled an extra sweater over herself and headed to the back bedroom.

Carol had taught her that busy hands made the time pass faster. When their friends were scouting or doing work outside of the prison gates, the two of them would find any work they could to occupy themselves.

"You worry less when you're busy," Carol had said, with one of her soft smiles. Beth repeated these words to herself as she climbed the ladder down into the cellar.

There was no light down there, of course. Daryl had left a flashlight at the base of the ladder, though. Flicking it on, Beth took her first look around the cellar.

Here beneath the ground, she was able to see her breath. Hanging from the ceiling on the far side of the cellar were the rabbits and birds Daryl had managed to catch up to this point. Remnants of the house's past life were all over the place: old gurneys, shelves of mortician's tools.

Beth shuddered at the thought of the business that used to go on there. She abandoned the flashlight at the foot of the ladder, making her way back upstairs. There were two bedrooms in the house. She stripped the bedding from the bed in the first room and started pulling the mattress from the bedframe.

"Even in the prison we had real beds," she muttered to herself. "We should at least use the mattresses."

It took Beth a while to get the mattress angled off the bed. To get it down the hallway, she had to alternate dragging and pushing it along the wall until she got the mattress into the front room.

She let herself fall on top of it, trying to catch her breath. "I'll do Daryl's first."

Before the entire world changed, Beth didn't have the habit of talking to herself. Now that she so often found herself alone, she couldn't help herself. Adding the quilts and pillows she had taken from the bed to get the mattress, she made up Daryl's bed.

Shaking out Daryl's blankets caused the scent of him to waft toward her. It was a smell that had become familiar to her; earthy and musky in a pleasant way, marking Daryl as one with the earth he knew so well. Definitely not an unpleasant smell. Truthfully, it was one that had come to comfort her, with Daryl being her last true connection in this world.

Doing her own felt like it took several hours. When she peeked out the window, the sun wasn't even in the midway point of the sky. Somehow, it was still morning. Beth blew her hair out of her face, heading into the bathroom.

There were still creature comforts in this house. She pulled a brush through her hair, trying to make sense of it. Moving the mattresses had sent it into a tangled disarray. Usually, she kept her hair in a ponytail, but since she had nothing but time to kill until Daryl got back, she took the time to French braid it.

Maggie had taught her, years ago. Her sister had sat on the porch swing, Beth between her knees. While Maggie braided Beth's hair, Beth had braided the hair of one of her dolls. Make sure you get a little more hair every time you put a strand in your braid.

"This day is never going to end," Beth lamented to her reflection as she tied off her braid. I wonder what Daryl with think.

Not of the beds she had made. Of her hair. Since when did Beth care what Daryl thought of her hair? She watched the blush creep into her cheeks and looked away. Her face still felt hot when she made back into the front room.

She was on a self-given mission, you see. If the front room was going to be where they spent most of their time, she wanted it to be less funeral parlor and more…homey. Her next step was to clear the mantle over the fireplace of all the sample urns that made their home there. Those, she stuffed away under the kitchen sink.

In one of the bedrooms, there were vases of fake flowers. Her wildflowers had died with the fall season, so Beth settled for the silk flowers and arranged the vases along the mantle. The pink and white daisies were a huge improvement over the urns, she thought.

Real beds. Some flowers to brighten up the space. Standing in the doorway, Beth thought it looked homier already. Still, she thought it needed more, so she added a rocking chair and rug from one of the bedrooms.

"If we have to live in the front room, it might as well be nice." It reminded her of the descriptions of one-room claim shanties in the Little House on the Prairie book series. A long time ago, in another life, she spent her summers reading the books with Maggie.

Even with all of that work, there were still hours in the day. Beth settled herself onto her newly made bed, satisfied with her work, and began to read a romance novel she had found.

Somewhere along the way, she must have accidentally fallen asleep. A pounding knock startled her out of her dreamless sleep, making her jerk up and away from her bed. The mattresses were more comfortable than she thought, she guessed.

"I'm coming!" She said without thinking. It didn't occur to her that it could have been anyone other than Daryl. Her excitement overtook her sense, sending her running to open the door. Beth fumbled with the lock before getting it open, smiling up into Daryl's face.

He almost reprimanded her for not even asking who was at the door. Almost. But the way her smile crinkled her eyes…he couldn't bring himself to. Honestly, he hadn't seen her truly smile since months before Hershel died, when they lost that little boyfriend of hers on a run.

"You didn't get the deer?" Beth's face nearly fell. He hoisted his game bag, heavy with the day's work.

"Yeah. I just made it easier to carry, s'all." Over the top of Beth's head, Daryl saw a completely different house than the one he had left. Had he not known better, he might have thought he walked into the wrong place. "You been busy?"

"Well," Beth took a step back, making room for Daryl, "if we're going to stay here, I thought we might as well try to make it nice."

The only response Daryl gave was a not, but…he was fairly certain this was the nicest thin anyone had ever done for him.

Merle had taken care of him, sure, but Merle had been his brother. That was different. There was a responsibility there, an obligation. Beth didn't have to do anything for him. As he made his way to the cellar, to store the deer meat, he felt his heart give a squeeze he didn't quite understand.

When he thought it wasn't too cold for her little frame, Daryl took Beth with him to find firewood. She always bundled up in the clothes he had found for her: a hat pulled over her blonde waves; gloves warming her tiny hands; a scarf wrapped around her neck.

In contrast, Beth was lucky if she convinced Daryl to wear a jacket.

"I get too hot," he would argue. To be fair, he did do most of the work, with chopping down the trees.

Beth knew she was there for two reasons: to carry the wood back to the house, and to cover Daryl. When he found a tree he liked, he would hand the crossbow to Beth. That, with the bullets they still had in the guns they had taken from the prison and their knives, was all the weaponry they had at their disposal.

"I never thought trees could be so loud," Beth whispered, mostly to herself, while Daryl worked. Of course, with his hunter's ears, Daryl was able to hear her over the clanging sound of the ax hitting the tree trunk.

"Everything's too loud for this world." Daryl told her between ax swings. "All's we can do is deal with it. Crossbows are a hell of a lot quieter than guns."

He wasn't wrong there. While Daryl worked, Beth watched the snow swirling around them. It had been steady over the last few days. The sky and air were full of lazily falling snowflakes. The nights were cold enough that the snow froze harder each night, lending itself to identifying approaching footsteps with the crunching it would make.

Which is how Beth heard the lone walker approaching them long before it got anywhere close to them. Beth raised the crossbow, eyeballing the angle she would need to pierce the walker's brain. She took a steadying breath, like Daryl had taught her, and pulled the trigger on her exhale.

Silently, the arrow sailed through the air. The only noise it made was the dull squelch as it lodged itself in the walker's brain. Of the whole ordeal, the loudest noise was the walker falling to it's true death in the hardpacked snow.

"Atta girl," Daryl complimented her.

Beth smiled so hard she thought her cheeks might crack in the cold air.

The Bible wasn't the only book that Beth read aloud to Daryl. Whatever book she herself was working through, she would often read a few paragraphs or a chapter here and there for him.

"It might be a surprise," Daryl told her once, "but I know how to read."

Beth had blushed furiously at his teasing, stumbling over the words of her unneeded apology. He had only smirked, until she caught on that he was teasing. Then, Beth's flushed expression had quickly turned to a glare that Daryl was certain wouldn't have intimidated a kitten.

Still, Beth didn't stop reading to him. In all honestly, he didn't mind. If he were being honest, then Daryl would admit that the liked Beth's sweet, high voice—whether she was singing or talking, it didn't matter.

"Pay attention to this one," she told him one night. Something about the ever-present clouds had messed up her sleep schedule. Beth often woke in the night, hours before her time to take a turn on watch. Instead of going back to sleep, she would often talk to Daryl. Or, like tonight, light a candle next to her bed and read to him. "It's my favorite poem."

Daryl tamped down his chuckle. He glanced away from the window he had been looking out, watching the world outside their little house. "Who's it by?"

"Edgar Allan Poe."

"Isn't that the freaky raven guy?"

He didn't even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes at him. "Just listen."

She began to read, her voice softly wafting to him from across the room:

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived who you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

Even though she was reading, not singing, the rhyming of the poem almost made it sound like a song.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

The flickering of the light lone candle next to her bed lit up Beth's face in warm light while she read. It moved across her features, but somehow, seemed to fixate on her lips as they moved. Or were those Daryl's eyes, lighting upon her mouth time and again?

And this was the reason, that long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulcher

In this kingdom by the sea.

Beth rolled from her stomach to her side, facing him more head-on. She took the candle with her, shifting its light.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his for just a moment across the room. It dawned on Daryl, suddenly, that the had been watching Beth read without pause. He had no idea how long the poem was, but since she began reading, his eyes hadn't strayed from Beth once.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee

The world around them could be ending—again—for all Daryl knew. His universe had shrunk. All that existed, he was fairly certain, was this room, that candle, Beth swathed in her blankets, her voice reading a poem he had never heard.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulcher there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beth's pause drew on for so long that Daryl realized the poem was over. She was pausing now, expectant, waiting for him to comment. When he opened his mouth, Daryl found that his throat had grown thick.

"It's nice," he said, his voice surprisingly husky. "But she died."

That was enough to spark Beth to life, breaking whatever spell she had cast while she read. "But that's the point. She died, and he still loved her, for the rest of his life. Don't you think that's romantic?"

Daryl felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Or stupid."

Beth groaned, rolling onto her back. "You're impossible."

She propped herself onto her elbows, stifling a yawn as she watched him.

"Go back to sleep," he told her. Daryl motioned with his head toward the clock. It wasn't accurate, he was sure, but it was nearly one a.m. according to the thing. Beth didn't have watch until three. "You got time."

Beth leaned toward her candle, cupping the flame with her hand. He watched her lips once more as she brought them close, extinguishing the candle with a little huff of her breath. With that tiny light gone, they were thrown into darkness.

Daryl turned his attention back to the window. Nothing had changed in the time it took Beth to read the poem to him. Somehow, he was both surprised and nonplussed by this fact. Of course, nothing had changed; he hadn't heard anything. On the other hand, he had felt a definite shift in himself while Beth read.

He listened to her settle into her bed, blankets rustling around her.

"Goodnight, Daryl," her little voice reached him again.

"'Night, Beth."

If December was the beginning of winter, Daryl was spooked to see what the rest of the season would bring. Barely halfway through the month, according to the calendar Beth had made, they were hit with a cold snap so severe that he didn't dare leave the house.

"Bring me some of them towels," he instructed Beth. Her teeth were chattering, despite the layered sweaters she wore, but she did what he asked. Rolling the towels tightly in his hands, Daryl shoved the fabric against window ledges and the bottom of doors. Trying to block out as much cold as he could.

"What good is this house if we freeze to death inside?" Beth complained, and he couldn't blame her. It had been cold all day, and now that night was falling, the temperature was only dropping further.

Daryl dragged the mattresses close to the fire. He positioned Beth's so that it was closest, fearful that the cold would settle into her.

"No sense in doing watch shifts tonight," he told her. "Go ahead and get in bed so you can be warm."

The storm raging outside would surely keep both walkers and humans away from the house. Daryl had no intentions of leaving his blankets, either, though he wasn't sure how much he would sleep. If they didn't keep the fire up throughout the night, they would be in some trouble.

Beth slipped her boots off and pulled on another pair of socks in their place. She didn't bother to remove any of the many layers she wore as she slipped under her blankets. Through the heaps of fabric, Daryl could still see her shivering.

Before getting into bed himself, Daryl added the thickest logs they had inside to the fire. He hoped they would burn slow through the night.

That fire provided the only light in the house. Beth had blown all the candles out earlier, and the storm was stealing any chance of moon or starlight. In the hazy firelight, Daryl watched Beth pull the covers up under her chin and roll toward the warmth. It took a few minutes, but her shoulders slowly stopped shaking.

He was pretty sure she had fallen asleep when her voice cut through the cold darkness.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

She rolled herself back toward him. "You're still awake?"

"Yeah."

"I'm still cold."

Sighing, he pushed himself up on his elbow. There wasn't really much he could do about her being cold, except…

"C'mere," he relented after a moment.

"Why? I'm closer to the fire. You come over here."

He felt his eyes fluttering shut and he took a deep breath. Sometimes, the youngest Greene could push buttons. As sweet as she was, he had learned she could be blunt, stubborn, and combative.

"Alright."

Climbing out of the blankets, Daryl pushed his bed until it was flush with Beth's. Then he readjusted his own blankets over her before positioning himself back under the sheets. He thought she might have been exaggerating about being cold, but then Beth moved closer to him and he could feel the chill on her skin.

"Thank you," she murmured. Letting her head loll to the side, it came to rest against his shoulder. Otherwise, their bodies didn't touch.

"'Course," he whispered back to her. They fell quiet, and Daryl forced himself to listen to her little breaths and the logs popping in the fire. Focusing on these sounds distracted him from the way his blood was rushing in his veins.

Why, he wondered, did it matter if she was this close to him?

His presence must have warmed her, though. Beth's breathing deepened and evened out, letting him know she had fallen entirely asleep. Daryl tried to stay still, so he wouldn't wake her, and watched the storm outside the window. He had left the curtains open on only one, so he could check the outside world if he thought he needed to.

Beth's cheek was soft and hot against his shoulder. Though she had complained of the cold, she was warming the spot beside him. The swirling snow patterns outside the window were oddly soothing to his eyes. Daryl fell into sleep easily—so much so that he didn't realize it was happening.

Many hours later, a loud crack! startled Beth from her sleep. Her body jumped, yanking her from her dream, the surprise stealing her breath for a moment. As her mind regained consciousness, she realized she was pressed against someone.

"Shhh," Daryl murmured against her hair. He must have been more or less asleep himself. She felt his hand on her back, lazily rubbing comfortable circles. "It's just a tree. Go back to sleep."

The slow circles Daryl was making with his hand calmed her. Slowly, her heart calmed. Beth snuggled herself closer to Daryl, pressing her cheek against his chest so she could hear his steady heartbeat and breathing, falling back asleep to their cadence.

After that night, without there ever being a word spoken about it, Daryl and Beth shared her bed.

And every night, they fell asleep without touching each other…much. Sometimes, Beth would rest her head against his shoulder, like she had the first night. Other nights, she held his hand and told him whispered stories about her childhood on her father's farm.

And every morning, they woke with their limbs entangled. Beth's head might be resting on his chest, Daryl's own dipped low over hers. Or she might wake with Daryl's chest flush to her back, a warm and strong arm wrapped around her waist. Or Daryl might find Beth's cheek pressed to his back, her arms hugging him to her, one of her legs thrown over his hip.

They never spoke about this, either.

A/N: Poe owns Annabel Lee, obviously. I do not. Nor do I own Beth, Daryl, or anything TWD related. But I do own the fact that this is purely self-indulgent Bethyl fluff because it is a ship I will GLADLY go down with. Enjoy, my friends.