I'd received some questions regarding the format of this work: this is an Imagine, not a fic. Imagines are told from the point of view of the reader, and that's why the main character is "you". Whenever "Y/N" is written, it stands for "Your Name", and indicates that the reader is to insert their own name in at that point. I hope this helps!

Princess, Pt. 2

When you woke up, it was morning, and you were lying in an unfamiliar bed staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. There was a fog behind your eyes and a dull throb throwing a tantrum on your temple. You groan and roll yourself up into a sitting position, dropping your feet onto the floor.

There was a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon on the nightstand next to the bed, and when you picked up the plate, there was a note underneath it. Written in neat, sprawling handwriting, was "Morning, Princess. Eat up! We leave at ten."

The clock on the nightstand was staring back at you with a green luminescent "9:30" on its face. You eat the toast, but leave the animal products, and then get up and try the door. It's locked. But at least the room you were in was relatively large, and there was a bathroom on the other side.

You walk to the bathroom and turn on the sink. Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you jump a little at the bruised sight of your face. The large, angry bruise from when Negan had hit you was creeping over the side of your face like moss on a rotted log, and your pale face seemed hollowed out from terror and stress. There were deep circles under your eyes.

"God, I look like a train wreck." You examine the deep purple bruise a little closer before splashing cold water on your face and gulping down handfuls in an effort to quell the sandpaper feeling on your tongue. You were still wearing your tattered shirt, and finding a new one was your first priority. There was a closet in the room as well, and though it was mostly empty, there were two shirts folded on the shelf, waiting for you. You chose a loose-fitting green t-shirt and left your old one lying on the floor.

The clock read "9:45" now, and you still had 15 minutes before someone was going to come and get you. So, you sat on the bed and waited.

Right at 10, the door unlocked and Negan strolled inside. "Morning, Princess." He smiled broadly at you. You didn't say anything. He look at the mostly untouched plate of food on the nightstand. "You didn't eat your breakfast."

"I'm a vegan." You weren't, but you wanted to be difficult.

Negan started to laugh. "Well, you'll have to cut that shit out then, cause we're not going to try to feed a vegan." You don't say anything. "Let's go. Time to pay a visit to your old group."


You were getting closer to Alexandria, riding up front in Negan's jeep. "You eventually going to talk to me?" Negan asks.

You shrug, continuing to stare out the window. After a few more moments of silence, you say, "Are you at least going to let me pack up some of my things to take with me? Or am I just a full-blown prisoner?"

"I'll give you ten minutes. After I'm done explaining the rules to Rick, you'll have ten minutes to get anything you want while they load up our supplies."

They're not your supplies. They're ours. You think, but keep this to yourself. Your head was still throbbing.

When you pull up to the gate at Alexandria, Rick, Daryl, and Sasha are waiting for you outside of the gate. "Let's go." Negan says, grabbing Lucille out of the back seat and hopping down and out of the car.

You get out slowly. Daryl was going to lose his shit when he saw the state of you, and you wanted to prolong that. You walk, head down and shaking from exhaustion and lack of food, to stand next to Negan. When you look up, the horror and anger on Rick and Daryl's face confirm the fact that you look like shit. "You OK, Y/N?" Daryl asks, his eyes never leaving Negan. Your uncle was less pale, but he still looked like he'd been put through a blender.

"As OK as I can be. I am a prisoner of war, after all."

Negan ignored this comment, twirling his bat in a casual manner as he spoke. "This is how our trade arrangement works. Every four weeks, so once a month for those of you who are slower," He looks at Daryl. "You will give me and my group half of everything you have. Any food, water, ammunition, hell, even any porn. If you own it, I own half." Negan stopped to stand in front of Rick. "Princess is in charge of dealing with you people, because, to be honest, I don't want to hear your bitchin and moanin." Negan walks back to lounge on the hood of the Jeep. "Any questions, comments, concerns, or pointless drivel after today is to be directed to her." Negan smiled. "Questions?" It was quiet. "Good. Start loading the truck." He pointed to a white moving van that had backed in behind the jeep. "Princess, you have ten minutes. Spend longer than that, and I'll come in there and get you myself."

When Rick and Daryl opened the gate, you walk wordlessly past them and start heading to the house that you and Daryl shared. Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Rick, and Aaron were helping to load the truck and Daryl was following behind you closely. "Y/N." He said as you got closer to the house.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. You didn't want to talk to him, because it would feel too much like a good-bye. You yank open the door to the house harder than you intended to; your anger at Negan for ripping you from your life beginning to boil over. "Y/N!" Daryl yelled, grabbing your arm as you tried to go upstairs.

You pull your arm out of his grasp. "What?" You keep climbing the stairs. In your room, you grab a duffle bag and start stuffing clothes and books and anything you loved and wanted into the bag.

"Are you OK?" Daryl didn't know what else to say. He was terrified, and you knew that, but it was still a dumb question that only angered you more.

"No! Why the fuck would I be OK?" You were yelling at him.

It was quiet in the room. You were standing there, fuming, and Daryl was on the verge of tears. "I just don't know what to do to help."

You exhale and soften a little. "Look, there's nothing you can do. This is the hand we've been dealt. If we don't make a big deal out of it, no one else has to die." You were crying now, stuffing clothes into the duffel bag.

"Here." Daryl was holding something out to you. You look up and it's his leather vest.

"No, I can't." He'd had that jacket forever, ever since you were a little kid. It was his identifying marker.

"Yes, you can." He helped you into the vest, which seemed to completely engulf you and you swam in the worn leather. It smelled like your uncle. Like home. "If I can't go with you to keep you safe, then I at least want a part of me to be there."

You let out a sob and fell into his chest, letting him hug you tight. "I have to go." You grab the duffel bag. You didn't want Negan coming into Alexandria at all, much less to drag you back out to the Jeep by your ponytail.

Daryl follows you out of the gate, and you focused on not crying as the other members of the group were hugging you good-bye. "Time to go!" Negan yelled, signaling for the Saviors to load up and shove off. You start walking back toward the Jeep when Negan reaches out to run his fingers over the angel wings on your back. "This is interesting."

You whip around, drop the duffel bag, shove him hard, and scream, "Do NOT touch it!"

Negan grabs you by the hair and twists until you fall to your knees. The bruise on the side of your face was on fire. "What did I tell you about touching me?" Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl had all drawn their weapons. "Huh?"

"Not to." He threw you to dirt.

"Last warning. Next time, I'll kill you." He walks to the driver's side of the Jeep. "Get in the fucking car."

You gather up your bag and scurry into the vehicle. The worry in your friends' eyes is forever scalded behind your eyelids as the Jeep turns around and drives away.