Chapter 45
King Ezekiel passed through his gates, the steed between his legs slowly strolling down the asphalt outside his kingdom walls. The beast twirled his tail leisurely in the moist afternoon air and the dreaded King wished he could feel the same requiescence, but he kept his features narrow, not wanting to showcase his inner feelings lest it open him up to scrutiny from his enemies and his people. He was a leader - a king - not a coward, and he intended to promote himself in that manner; especially to those who desired everything he had and strove for.
"The oppressor awaits your presence, sire," Daniel, one of King Ezekiel's top soldiers, informed as he meet him in the deserted road.
"What does he want?" the king asked in an impatient tone and pulled the reins to stop his horse.
"He did not say, your majesty. Only that he desires an audience with you," Daniel replied, bowing ever so slightly.
King Ezekiel looked over his shoulder to Jerry, the protector of his body and spirit. Jerry held an air of unease, but he gave a quick nod of his head to signal that he would be by his king's side unwaveringly.
"Are my men stationed accordingly?" King Ezekiel beseeched Daniel, and the younger man nodded an affirmation.
"Yes, your majesty."
The monarch studied him for a moment and then looked past the soldier's shoulder into the distance where a load of impetuous men awaited his arrival.
"Appoint a small garrison beyond the gates and lock down the Kingdom. If I should not return by the sun's final rays, cease our truce with these mongrels, call on our allies, and declare war."
"Yes, sire," Daniel bowed, lowering to one knee. He rose swiftly, climbing onto his own filly, and galloped at full speed back to the Kingdom gates.
King Ezekiel gave his soldier one last fleeting look before the matching gaze of Jerry aligned with his.
"After you, your majesty," Jerry said.
The King sat forth and rapped his heels into the steed's sides, sending him off into a trot. The pair came upon the assemblage who waited in deadly silence, the backs of his men the first sight to glean his eyes as they pressed in a horizontal line. They stood vigilantly between him and those who called themselves the Saviors, and King Ezekiel had one last cursory instant to question the motives of these unwelcome visitors before he descended his ride and stepped purposefully forward. As he broke the manmade barrier, a taller gentleman with slicked-back black hair trilled a low whistle, his smiling face a shadow that vainly covered the evil in his heart.
"Well, how do you fuckin' do," the man said. He lounged casually against the front bumper of a truck, but pushed off with ease, a barbed-wire bat rising up to crest his shoulder, when the armored soldiers parted for their King to come through.
"May I present his highness, the one true ruler of his kingdom and ours, his grace, King Ezekiel."
The royal leader came to a halt no more than an arm's reach away from his men; his faithful bodyguard, Jerry, an umbra at his back. He returned the tall, leather-wearing man's smile as benignly as he could, openung his cloaked arms in welcome but remaining in silence. He was offering the floor for this dark stranger to begin.
"Wowie," the man chuckled and rubbed his chin, leaning back as he did. He gave a meandering shrug and chuckled once more. "Well, if your royal ass hasn't guessed by now, I'm Negan, and if I can be goddamn frank, I have been waiting for a long fuckin' time to make your acquaintance. This whole fairytale bullshit you've spun up and shit out around here is mighty intriguing, and I've gotta say that this first impression is not disappointing in the least. I didn't believe half of what these dipshits told me, but I'll be damned… You are a fucking nut job."
King Ezekiel's smiled broadened at the insult and he lowered his arms. "The pleasure is all mine, Sir Negan. To what folly do I owe this…unmarked visit? Have my offerings not been sufficient?"
"No, Mr. High-and-Fucking-Mighty. You're offerings have been shit as of late, and the fact that you were the one to bring it up makes me safely assume that you were aware of that shit before I showed my pretty ass up," Negan pointed a gloved finger at the other man.
"Your sycophants have made my soldiers quite aware of such at their last rendezvous," King Ezekiel replied graciously. "It displeases me to say that our lack of donations do not stem from defiance but rather an inability to produce. We are in a time of paralysis. My soldiers do not return to me successful but with empty arms. Our crops do not flourish as the God's air surrenders to the fickle tide of the seasons. My people are suffering from these shortages, and as the common saying goes, "Doth the river run dry, so doth the mouth of babes."
A snort was heard from behind Negan's shoulder, and the bat wielding leader took a moment to stop himself from releasing the bubble of laughter that expanded in his chest. He rubbed his chin again, waiting for the impulse to pass before meeting the eyes of the Kingdom's leader once more.
"See, that's where I'm gonna have to call bullshit on you, you half-cent Shakespeare. I don't buy for one titty-licking second that you don't have enough shit inside that renaissance festival you got going behind those walls." Negan cocked his head and tightened his grip on Lucille. "I bet the minute you stroll through those damn gates you have a fucking turkey leg in one hand and a harlot in the other. What exactly is it that you're hiding back there, King Ezekiel? How much of my shit are you keeping from me?"
The friendly expression melted from the royal ruler's face and was replaced by a seething scowl.
"I have no more than what I gave you earlier in the week. If you are not satisfied with your compensation, then perhaps we can make other arrangements."
"Or," Negan said, holding one gloved finger in the air, "I can murder the lot of you goony fucks where you stand and then I wouldn't have to waste the time of asking anymore. This. Is not. A negotiation!"
The leader of the Saviors strode forward in his fury, and King Ezekiel's men marched up, surrounding their leader. Negan stopped his twitching hand from cocking back Lucille and swinging her into the unlucky head of the first person she could find. He stood in front of the king's blockade and finished what he wanted to say, his own men converging at his back.
"Now, I don't know about you and how you're spending your days role playing, daydreaming, or whatever the fuck it is you call what you're doing, but I'm a man of my word. When I say I want my shit, I want it. When I say I will bust down your fucking door and split the belly of every last motherfucker who stands in my way, I will. Make no mistake of my intentions, Ezekiel. I will get what has been promised to me, and that quota has not been filled the past few weeks which leaves me rather fucking perturbed," Negan threw out his arms, an angry smile adorning his cheeks. "So, instead of using my dirty girl to knock any screws you have left loose in that unhinged skull of yours, I'm gonna show you just how forgiving of a man I can be."
The Savior leader released a sharp whistle and the men at his back raised their guns. One man in particular ejected himself from the rear of a box truck, holding an RPG on his shoulder and crouching down as he aimed at King Ezekiel and his fighters. Negan's Saviors quickly moved backward to their vehicles, guns trained on the foe in front of them as their leader remained rooted to his spot, the smirk growing larger on his self-righteous face.
"I'll spare your lives and those of your people if you give me five men and five women as recompense; none of them old, sick, or dying, but young, healthy, and capable. I want your peons to march off and collect them while we keep an eye on you. If I suspect any tricks during their absence, you're dead. If they come back with more soldiers or weapons, you, all of them, and the rest of the assholes you got holed away in fantasyland will be dead. However, before I make you meet your ass and kiss it goodbye, I'll be sure to pick the youngest little prick you got and beat the fucking fuckity-fuck out of his soft head. As for the women," Negan glanced behind his shoulder at his men, "we'll pick out the ones that suit us and slaughter the rest."
The composure King Ezekiel had veiled himself in had rapidly unwound thread-by-thread. His mouth twitched downward in a grimace and his eyes were glowering, black cannons. Each word out of Negan's mouth was a jarring slap to his face and the sting was made more astringent by the reality of how frail his position was. He asked for a bargain and Negan wasn't providing that to him. The sovereign man wasn't sure what exactly he expected, but he did not dare think for one moment that some of his people would be taken away. He would rather die than surrender them, but his death would be a bleeding wound in the security of his kingdom.
"Your majesty," Jerry began, but his king held up a hand.
"It would not do to surrender ten of my people to you, Negan. I am afraid we need as many bodies we can spare to assure you that no more shortages of what you require are imminent," the king spoke slowly, deliberately. If he could not convince this violent man to otherwise leave his people be, he will have failed them as their protector. "I can however, give you our share of the portions. My people will have to fare the best they can until we can supplement the loss."
"Ezekiel, I know we just met, and maybe it takes you a while to understand the words from someone who's normal and actually had fucking friends growing up, but I thought I made myself pretty damn clear before. Did I not?" Negan asked, turning to the armed men behind him.
"I thought you were Liquid Fire clear," Simon remarked buoyantly while the rest snickered and nodded.
"See, even they understood what I fucking said and I wasn't even talking to them." Negan flicked a thumb over his shoulder. "I won't repeat myself, Ezekiel. I'm going to go relax in my truck and have a smoke. By the time it burns down to its last ember, I better see my five men and women in front of me. I'm warning you," Negan smiled, "you don't want to witness what will happen if I don't."
"Richard," King Ezekiel's upper lip spasmed as he spoke, "Alvaro, go retrieve five men…and five women. Pay mind to who you choose lest our guest becomes increasingly unsatisfied."
"But your majesty," Richard protested.
"Do it!" King Ezekiel roared, snapping his head to glare at the soldier.
The two men threw sharp looks at Negan and his men before running back to the Kingdom gates. Negan bestowed King Ezekiel a wide smile before turning to walk to his truck, whistling a jaunty tune.
"Your majesty," Jerry spoke lowly from his king's side, "are you sure this is the right decision?"
"No," the king sneered, never tearing his eyes away from the pompous man as he flicked open a lighter, the flame licking the stick of death between his lips. "But I am left with little choice. It's either ten lives, or all of them. I must choose the lesser of two evils."
"Certainly, your majesty," Jerry muttered sadly.
Some time passed and no one uttered a sound. Negan was nearing the end of his smoke, the burning tip a pull or two away from reaching the butt, when Richard and Alvaro returned, five men and five women in tow. They were confused, scared, and they all looked at their king with worry.
"I present to you your subjects, your majesty," Richard announced.
"Bring them forth," King Ezekiel ordered, and his soldiers did so.
"What's going on?" One wary man asked as Negan hopped out of the truck and threw his butt to the ground, smashing it beneath his boot.
"Please tell us," a woman begged, resisting the pull of Alvaro's hand on her arm, while Negan moved forward with one hand on Lucille and the other resting on his belt.
"Load 'em up, boys," he commanded and his Saviors moved forward, grabbing the now panicking men and women to shove them roughly inside of different vehicles.
The downtrodden king finally lowered his gaze, refusing to witness the kidnapping of his people. He was of the conviction that this would be solved if he could accumulate and furnish Negan with whatever bounty available, but he'd already attempted to negotiate that tactic and failed.
There must be another way, he yelled in his mind, but as screams echoed in his ears, he was painfully aware of how limited his options were. Negan had not given him many - only one.
"I'd say it was nice to meet you but," Negan let out a breathy chortle, a sinister gleam in his eyes, "I don't think you'd feel the same way. After the shitty day I've had, though, you've really lifted up my spirits. Thanks for the laughs…and the men and women."
He gifted King Ezekiel with a simple wink. Negan and his men entered their vehicles, starting them up and backing away. Once the raging fracas of their engines vanished, King Ezekiel took in a shaky breath and turned away from his soldiers.
"My king?" Jerry asked worriedly, but his leader held up a hand.
The noble man composed himself, letting loose a small river of tears before bringing his head back up and squaring his shoulders. He took a deep breath and swallowed to clear his throat.
"Find Jesus," he requested monotonously. "Tell him I am interested in this new group he speaks of. I want to unite with this Rick Grimes, and... hear his proposition. Tell him that war is finally upon us."
Daryl caught up with me a ways down the hall. I felt him by my side as he walked up next to me, but he didn't say a word – only followed. I wasn't sure where I was going; if I was headed to my room or his, or if I wanted to bust through an outside door and run until my legs gave out. I would easily leave Negan, Dwight, and all the misery of this place behind if it could be done that simply, but I fought back the impulse, telling myself to make a good decision for once.
"Everly, stop," Daryl said, grabbing hold of my hand.
I yanked it from his grasp, running my fingers through my hair. I turned in circles anxiously, the yellow lights in the hall making my vision suddenly bleary.
"Everly?" Daryl voice held concern.
"I can't breathe," I gasped and clutched a hand to my breast.
"Whoa, s'alright." He placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Don't touch me!" I flung his hands away from me and backed up a step, delirious.
"Okay, okay. I ain't touchin' you… Just, fuckin' breath or somethin'." Daryl attempted to calm me down.
"I'm trying," I heaved and bent over to put my hands on my knees, taking in deep, aching breaths.
My left side leaned against the wall as I slowly slid down to a crouch. Daryl stooped beside me, providing a bit of space as to not overcrowd me, but he reached out a tentative hand, his fingertips brushing my knee.
"Daryl, don't. Not yet."
He withdrew his hand and placed it with the one between his knees. He let out a nasally breath and watched me patiently. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself as I focused on calming my furious heartbeat. Maybe if I talked I would feel better. I licked my lips and cleared my throat, forcing a lump down before trying.
"I-I don't blame you…anymore. Not much, anyway."
"Blame me for what?" Daryl asked after a beat.
"For being with Roxanne. I don't blame you. I'm not mad anymore," I clarified and peeked over at him through my hair. "All of that doesn't matter."
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I never-"
"No, don't say anything," I cut in. I pushed my hair behind my ear so I could see him more clearly. "I don't want to speak her name anymore or hear about what happened. Let's just put it behind us and promise each other to never abandon the other again. My one and only mistake was pushing you away that night in my room and I've regretted it ever since. I'm sorry for that. I was just trying to protect you…and protect myself."
"Ya don't need to be protectin' me." He slowly moved up closer. "I wanna protect you, and I'll be fuckin' six feet in the dirt before I let ya out of my sight again. D'ya hear me?"
"Yes," I muttered as tears welled in my eyes.
"Come 'ere."
He opened his arms and I crashed into him, burying my face in his neck. We sat on our knees for a bit as he held me while I cried on his shoulder. He ran his hands up and down my back, and the tension and fear that had built up inside of me beginning to ebb. I took in a shuddering breath and forced back a rising sob, wiping my eyes with my good hand. I pulled away from him to sit back on my heels, leaving my hands to rest on his shoulders.
"I missed you," I whispered, and he smiled ever so slightly.
"I missed ya, too."
Not wanting to throw away an extra moment, I fervently pressed my mouth to his. His lips moved with mine, their motions just as desperate. When he deepened the kiss, my chest constricted again and I pulled away, terrified.
"What's wrong?" His face was a mask of apprehension.
"Nothing. I'm just feeling panicky still," I replied honestly.
"Let's getcha to bed," he said and gingerly lifted me up. "Do ya wanna talk 'bout what happened?"
"No," I answered, but changed my mind. "Yes. If I hold it all in, it'll eat me alive. It might take me a while, but I need to tell you everything. No more secrets between us."
"Okay." Daryl hugged me to his side as we walked down the hallway.
When we reached my room, he opened the door for me, allowing me inside the dark space. I stepped in and studied it, the light from the hall illuminating the area just enough for a whole sense of ease to wash over me at seeing its familiarity. Despite the room not really belonging to me, it was still my space, and I felt relieved at being inside of it again.
I took off my jacket and threw it on a chair before stripping off my boots, socks, and pants. I slunk over to the bed and climbed under the covers, sinking into the cotton sheets. I turned when Daryl didn't follow and saw him standing by the open door indecisively, his hands in his pockets as he stared at me.
"Get in bed with me," I told him.
Quietly, he closed the door, locking us in with the pressing darkness. I heard him move forward and kicking off his shoes along the way. He walked past the end of the twin bed, surprisingly with little difficulty, and to the other side, pulling back the covers to lie down next to me.
"Take off your shirt," I demanded before he could get in.
He was silent; probably trying to work through the pros and cons of doing such a thing considering the state I was in. Before he could protest, I sat up on my knees and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one motion. I ran my hands over his hard, smooth shoulders, down his arms and to his wrists. I pulled him down with me as I lay back and he settled in next to me.
"Hold me?" A tremor broke my voice, and I bit my quivering lip to steady it.
Daryl slid closer and pulled my body into his. I pressed my tender face under his chin and squeezed back the tears that wanted to escape again. I centered on the heat emanating from his chest, cuddling into him as I put one arm around his side.
I told him about my trip with Negan. How it all started and who I met. What words were said and the information I learned. I went into more depth about my run-in with Kai and the implications it could have, talking about my worries and hopefully not instilling too many in him. He offered his opinion or suggestions every once in a while, but he mostly kept silent. It wasn't until I got to the part about finding Rachel that he became restless, the muscles in his arms and chest contracting as his anger grew.
"You ain't ever leavin' me again," he fumed.
"I won't," I promised, and he kissed me.
"I'm so sorry." He let out an enraged sigh, holding me tighter to him. He slackened his hold when I whimpered from the pain. "I'm gonna fuckin' slit his throat."
"He did save me," I mentioned again.
"I don't fuckin' care. He put ya in that situation. It's like he did it his damn self, the piece 'uh shit."
"Just focus on me," I said and cupped his cheek. "Forget everyone else here. Let's just focus on each other and getting out of here."
He kissed me again, his mouth hard and passionate, but he didn't linger.
"Go t'sleep," he suggested.
"I don't think I can," I acknowledged but his words had me less tense.
"Me neither."
My body was extremely tired, but my mind was wide awake. I wanted to close my eyes and fall into nothingness yet I was afraid to try. I didn't want to lose the feel of his arms around me.
"Don't go anywhere," I practically begged him suddenly, holding onto him tightly.
"I ain't leavin' you. Not ever," he soothed as he ran a hand up my shirt and across my back.
"I never told you about my brother." A pang of guilt hit me but I wanted to keep talking to keep my mind occupied. "Remember when we went to Alexandria and you asked me what my favorite food was?"
"Yeah," he answered and I could hear a smile in his voice.
"I said 'his'. Do you remember that?"
"Yeah." Daryl continued to rub my back up to the nape of my neck and down again.
"I meant my brother," I revealed. "Whatever he liked, I liked. He was all I had. His name was Mason, and he was murdered by my step-father."
His cycling hand came to a stop, and I moved mine over his chest to feel his heart pounding inside.
"I left him. I abandoned him and left him alone, scared and heartsick because I was too much of a coward to take him with me."
I began sobbing again, not holding back, and Daryl held me against his chest as I cried on him for the second time in one night. His chest was slick with my tears, but his hold was firm and comforting as I got out as much as I could.
"It wasn't your fault," he mumbled in my hair.
"It was," I choked. "That's why I wa-was afraid of being with y-you. I don't want you to die."
"I ain't dying," Daryl assured.
"You don't know that," I argued and moved away from him. "Negan or anyone else here could kill you whenever they feel like it. No one would have a second thought."
"They would've done that by now if they were goin' to," Daryl countered.
"Bullshit," I sobbed and held onto him again. "It doesn't matter anyway because I'm already in love with you. No matter if I pushed you out of my life, that wouldn't change a thing."
Daryl pulled back this time, his hand gripping my upper arms.
"You're in love with me?"
Oh, shit. Had I meant to say that?
"Ye…Yeah," I answered unsurely, the tears ceasing. "I care so much about you, Daryl. It couldn't be anything else other than love."
He held me away from him, and for a tense moment I thought he might leave, unable to reciprocate my feelings. But in the next moment, he tenderly gathered me in his arms once more and planted his lips delicately on my brow, holding them there.
"I love ya, too, Everly. I always will," he whispered. "I'm yours even after my heart stops beatin'."
And the smile that rose on my face was bittersweet. I was elated that he felt the same way but scared I would lose him more easily now. If there was ever a curse in love, it was opening yourself up just to be slammed back down on your ass. Happy endings were the makings of a fairytale, not real life, and this life was more real and visceral than one could dream. It was a nightmare – a chaotic, never-ending nightmare.
Edited by lolasskicker.