Boredom. That had been my overall feeling for months. More so when Negan would demand my attendance at one of his ritual/ceremonies. Whether he was pseudo-celebrating after a successful raid, a promotion of one of his many "Saviors", or God help my sanity, if it was one of the "weddings" to add to his harem.

Life with Negan had never been simple. We met when I was in his high school gym class. We didn't become intimately acquainted until a few years later, during his wife's illness. It wasn't my proudest moment, to be sure, but I'd been with him ever since the pandemic began. And here, in The Sanctuary, I had the "privilege" of the status of Queen. His Queen, even as he added more "wives" to his harem.

When one of his newest minions, sorry but "Saviors" was too kind of a word, came to request my presence for another mind numbing, excruciating experience of pomp and stupidity I had to fight the urge to roll my damn eyes.

"And what did your supreme overlord ask that I wear for the occasion?" I asked, not looking up from my book and not bothering to mask the irritation I felt at the summons.

The minion, fuck I should tell Negan to make them wear nametags, didn't bother to cover his exasperation at having to play messenger to me. "Something QUEENLY, I guess."

Sarcasm. Nice. Slamming my book down on my bed I was reclining on, I shot a glare at the shithead. "Nice tone, messenger boy. Expect to rise through the ranks here?" He looked at me and I felt such revulsion at his hopeful expression. "I suggest you not piss me off." My glare held. "After all, I am his QUEEN." I hated myself as much as this moron in front of me for doing it. "Leave. Now." I heard, but didn't answer his sycophantic apology.

Fuck, I thought, looking at the closet in my rooms and glaring harder at the expanse of it. Negan and his fucking stupid ceremonial bullshit. If it was his version of a "wedding", I would usually wear one of the MANY expensive dark colored gowns he'd gifted me with over the time we'd spent here. If it was a recruitment ritual, I'd wear a dark, and still expensive suit. Promotions were more casual, and I'd go jeans and a nice blouse.

Damn it, why had he sent a useless idiot to summon me?

Screw it, I thought, grabbing a black silk jumpsuit with a ruby red blouse and flats. No point in pretending height I didn't enjoy naturally. In fact, Negan preferred me emphasising my small stature. Any time I wanted to diffuse his natural dickishness, all I really had to do was look up at him from under my eyelashes flatfooted on the floor.

I left my long hair loose, running a brush through my curls and checked the full length mirror that stood in the corner. A simple gold chain, tight against my throat and a large engagement ring that Negan had given me after his wife passed on my left hand ring finger were the only adornments I wore. I decided against makeup. If his little ritual was going to take place outdoors, it would simply sweat off anyway.

Groaning again at having to play mistress of the manor, I opened the door to find the minion waiting nearby. Since he hadn't fully delivered the message, I would have to depend on the dick to take me to him. Yep, I wouldn't be recommending him to a promoted position any time soon.

"Next time you're sent to summon to the Lord on High, you are expected to give me the FULL message." I said, sneering at his back. "Unless you haven't noticed, I have full reign of the sanctuary. I'm not in a gilded cage and I expect you and all the other little minions in line for favor to get that through your fucking heads. Obedience is one of Negan's rules, correct?"

The minion shrugged his shoulders, refusing to speak to me.

"I hate playing Queen, son, so do me a favor and don't force my hand." I sighed. "Just do what he tells you, to the fucking letter, and you'll do OK. But I swear to fucking God, if you ever act like you just did again, I'll have you punished."

He turned toward me when I said I hated playing Queen. Shock, I guess, played across his face. A slight nod told me he understood. Good, I thought, I didn't need a damn armed guard and I certainly couldn't stand the bowing and scraping. Although this certain belief that I reveled in my station above the others was the absolute worst. I loved the man, not what he had grown here. I loved the safety this life afforded me. Nothing else.

I chuckled when I thought of the last private conversation I had with Negan during one of our intimate nights. He'd been discussing his plans and his expectations for the future, and out of the blue he'd given me the offer he supposed I wanted. Since he had a multitude of "wives", and spent ample time with them, did I want to have the choice of my own version?

"A harem of my own?" I laughed hysterically. "Dear God, Negan, I can barely stand to have you all the time, why the HELL would I want more?"

His eyes, soft when he was alone with me, twinkled with laughter. "Well, darlin', you're my Queen and if you want for ANYTHING I expect you to take it or ask for it."

We'd kissed and made love, something I knew for a fact he didn't engage in with the others. I knew because a few had tried to discuss it with me. Tips or commiseration? I wasn't sure. They'd looked shocked when I told them I didn't understand what they were inferring. Negan and I didn't have the type of "relationship" that they had.

He treated me as an equal. A sounding board for the plans and expectations he had for the future. He had charisma and authority. I had the "book learning" as he called it. In fact, I was constantly reading. The one thing I wanted and expected was my library to grow. Raids kept them coming, books and more books. His soldiers muttered and bitched about how unnecessary it was, but I also helped teach the children of The Sanctuary.

The minion and I continued until we were in what I called "the Throne Room". Great, a REAL ceremony. Must have found a recruit or two on this last raid. Happy with my choice of outfit, I moved past the minion and walked to Negan. The room hushed and I barely looked around. This was my normal, at least now.

"Ah, there's my Queen!" He boasted, pulling me to him, off my feet, and dropping his head to mine. Taking the time to kiss me thoroughly, then set me carefully back on my feet. He pulled back. "Tonight was a good night, love." He turned me to face the room, standing against my back. "I found a worthy soldier to join us, darlin'. Meet, hey redneck, tell the lady your name."

I looked down at the man who was crouched on the floor in front of us. He was a bit dirty, with longish hair that hung in his face, and scruff on his chin. His arms showed muscles that were impressive, if a girl were into that type of thing, but what held my attention was his face. Even through bloodstains and grime, I could see the face of a fallen angel. His blue eyes glaring at me, did nothing to soften my impression and I listened intently to his gruff answer to Negan's request. "Fuck you!" And a spit on the floor at my feet.

I stifled a laugh. Dear God, Negan wanted him for that fire. And I wanted to protect him from what I knew was coming. "Soldiers" or "Saviors" as some were calling themselves, hell Negan probably came up with it had to be broken if they were expected to stay. If not, they'd be tortured and kept as prisoners, used for menial tasks with the intent to further break their will. And if that still didn't work, death.

I looked into those blue eyes glaring so harshly back at me and smiled softly. "Now, we really don't need to be like that, do we?" My voice sounded strangely sweet even to me. "I'm Jessica." I crouched down to him, sidestepping the spit, and looked into his face. "Won't you introduce yourself to me?"

I was speaking to him like the children who had come to live in The Sanctuary. The orphans or even the ones who were old enough to process what they'd seen on the outside. Scared like frightened animals, some lashed out, but I'd always been able to talk them down from it. I fought the urge to brush the hair out of his eyes. Touching him would be a terrible idea when he was wound this tight.

"Daryl Dixon." He grunted, unable to break eye contact with me as I couldn't seem to from him as well.

My smile lit up the room. I could feel everyone else calm down. Even Negan behind me released some of his uptight bullshit. "There, that's better. Welcome, Daryl Dixon, to The Sanctuary."

I stood up and felt Negan press himself against my back. His lips fell to my ear as he brushed my heavy hair out of the way. Dropping a kiss to mask his whisper, he gave a light chuckle. "You WANT him." I gave a hushed gasp, and nearly turned, but his arms were locked around me keeping me in place. "Rethinking my offer, darlin?" I felt the vibration of his laughter against me. Dick, I thought.

"Dixon," He said to the room, and the man who was still forced to kneel before us. "I think I'm going to allow Jessa to help acclimate you to your new reality." The room was tittering at this news. I was NEVER in control of new recruits, I wasn't a Savior, I was the leader's Queen. "Shut the fuck up!" The room quieted again. "Jessa knows how things are run. Dixon will be her servant until he's ready to move up."

I looked down at Daryl who, even with the attention focused on us, was still glaring. Great, he's pissed, irritated, and now thinks he's doomed to be a lady's maid. Fuck, Negan, doom the entire endeavor to failure from the get go. "Now, now, Negan. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." I kept my eyes on Daryl. "Perhaps, Mr. Dixon would like another choice?" The glare held on his face. "The truth is, Mr. Dixon, either I can help you learn how things work here, or-" I stopped and glanced around at my audience. All the wives, the Saviors, and higher la-de-das were in attendance. "Or, you'll be sent to a cell and forced to bend the knee in truth, do you understand." His nod was enough. "Would you care to choose? It's me or the cell."

Daryl looked up into my eyes and I prayed he understood that my way was far kinder and more handleable. He still looked like a trapped animal, but he was also processing the situation far quicker than some of the others had. And none of them had this choice offered to them.

"Fine." He mashed out of his angry mouth. "I guess I'm going with the QUEEN." He sneered. Damn, that fire again. Negan was going to want him more than he'd ever wanted another toy. We'd have to work to channel that effectively in a different direction.

"You heard him," Negan's voice rang. "He's off to take care of MY Queen." The humor in his voice was evident. Although I doubted highly the rest of his followers understood the implication. Instead, they probably thought that Daryl wasn't worthy enough of other means to the top.

I rolled my eyes, knowing fully that everyone's attention was on Negan. Everyone, I realized, but Daryl's. He was watching me carefully. And I smiled down at him. "If you don't mind, Negan, I think Mr. Dixon and I will go get him cleaned up. Could you please send some clean clothes to my rooms?"

"Anything for you, Jessa." His lips on my hair answered. He turned me suddenly and gave me another heart-stopping kiss. "Let me know if you want me to take him off your hands, darlin'." He said against my lips. I shook my head as I pulled away. "Night, Jessa. Dixon, on your feet."

Daryl stood and I moved past him so he could follow.