I knew I had to stand on what I said when it came to Maggie. If she wanted this to be a battle, I was ready to give it everything I had. Glenn's indecision, his back-and-forth between us, only fueled the fire in me. The tension in the prison was thick, almost suffocating, as everyone waited to see what Woodbury would do next. It was the perfect distraction, a way to channel the rage and frustration boiling inside me. And honestly, I was pissed at Glenn anyway.

I threw myself into the prison's daily grind, working alongside the others to fortify our defenses, keeping my mind off the tangled mess of my personal life. Each hammer strike, each barricade, was a way to release the anger gnawing at my insides. I didn't care if Glenn noticed or not; this was my way of proving to myself that I wasn't going to let this situation break me.

But deep down, the pain lingered. The memories of what we had, the betrayal of seeing him with Maggie, it all burned. I couldn't erase the hurt, but I could damn well make sure I didn't show it. Every time Maggie crossed my path, I gave her that same cold, defiant look. She wanted to test me? Fine. She'd see just how strong I could be.

I knew there was no way Glenn could just let me go and let it be. And a part of me wanted to shut him out for good, or at least until I was ready to make him feel the same hurt I was feeling. He needed to know how much his hesitation, his inability to make a choice, had torn me apart. If shutting him out was the way to do that, then so be it. I wanted him to feel the weight of his indecision, to realize that dragging this out wasn't just hurting me—it was hurting him too.

And as for Maggie, she would have to deal with the fallout. She'd have to deal with the way Glenn would feel about being shut out by me, knowing that he was torn between us. The satisfaction of that was enough to keep me going. I wanted her to feel the tension, the uncertainty, just as much as I wanted Glenn to feel the pain of losing me, even if just temporarily. This was the only way I knew to regain some control over the situation, to keep myself from spiraling completely.

Sure, my brain was a mess. Before alcohol, I used weed to cope with my inner battles. Then it turned to alcohol. Here, it was becoming sneaking off and having emotional but empty sex with Glenn. I always needed a fix, something to keep me from unraveling. Now, all I could do was focus heavily on where the people in the prison stood amidst the war. Being over-consumed with Amy and her feelings about Andrea, or Kris and his feelings about Amy, was just another distraction. I knew my addictive personality was taking over, latching onto anything that could dull the pain, the anger, the uncertainty.

So, I would throw myself into everything else—the drama in the prison, Amy and her feelings about Andrea, Kris and his infatuation with Amy. I needed the distraction. Because every time I thought about Glenn, about Maggie, about the mess we were all in, I felt that familiar anger bubbling up inside me. And I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold it back.

But for now, I'd let Glenn wonder, let him stew in his own guilt and confusion. And I'd let Maggie deal with the unease, the anxiety that came with not knowing where Glenn's heart truly lay. Because in the end, I needed them both to feel what I was feeling—the pain, the uncertainty, the anger. I needed them to understand that this wasn't just a game to me. This was my life, and I was done letting them dictate how I felt.

I was dealing with Amy now, her emotions in shambles as she cried. When Rick had come back, he had declared that the Governor would not stop—that it was war, and the prison was what he wanted. And even then, Andrea had not returned, which left Amy a mess.

Deep down, I didn't really believe Rick. Phillip wouldn't want anything to do with the prison—it was everything the Governor didn't want for Woodbury. But from my position, I had no choice but to listen to him. For Amy's sake, though, I kept those doubts to myself as I cradled her while she cried.

"You know," I said softly, smoothing her hair as she sobbed into my shoulder, "you told me about when Dale died, how it affected her with that prisoner situation. I think maybe she just wants to save everyone; she's trying to find a way to keep everyone alive. I know you just want her to choose you—trust me, I get it. But think about it—even if she were here, the war would still happen. She's just trying to do her part to save you from a position where she can."

Amy sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at me. Her eyes were red and swollen, filled with a pain that I knew all too well. "But why can't she just be here with me? Why does she always have to try to save everyone else?"

I sighed, wiping away a tear from her cheek. "Because that's who she is, Amy. She's always been like that, hasn't she? Trying to fix everything, trying to make sure everyone else is okay, even if it means putting herself at risk. It's not fair, and it's not right, but that's how she copes. It's how she deals with everything that's happened."

"But what about me?" Amy's voice broke, her desperation clear. "What about us?"

"She loves you, Amy. She does. But she's scared. Scared of losing you, scared of failing again. She's trying to do what she thinks is right, even if it hurts you. It's not easy, I know. But maybe… maybe she thinks that if she can stop this war, then she can come back to you without feeling like she failed."

Amy nodded weakly, her tears still falling, but her sobs quieter now. "I just want her to come home," she whispered.

"I know," I whispered back, holding her close again. "I know."

As I rocked Amy back and forth, trying to comfort her, Kristopher entered the cell and took a seat in the empty chair nearby. I felt Amy's head shift as she looked over at him, wiping at her tears. There was a noticeable change in her demeanor, something softer. I guess she did like him.

"Don't worry, you're still pretty when you cry," Kris said with a playful smile.

Amy kissed her teeth, a grin breaking through her sadness as she pulled away from me, smoothing down her hair. I couldn't help but suppress a smirk at the sight of her trying to fix herself up for my little brother. I could see she was falling for his charm, and it was kind of cute.

"You still upset about your sister?" Kris asked, placing a hand on her knee, his tone gentle.

"Should I leave?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at the sight of his touch.

"Where would you go? Out there to yell at Maggie again?" Kris joked, keeping his voice low but humorous.

"Stop it," I said, cutting my eyes at him, though I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Amy, you have to understand something about Majesty," Kris began, shifting the conversation to something lighter. "One time, there was this girl at the pizza shop who kept requesting Glenn deliver her pizzas. One day, Majesty had enough and sent her some crazy pizza mail."

"Pizza mail?" Amy laughed, curiosity piqued.

"I spelled 'fuck off, slut' with the pepperonis and delivered it with Glenn." I shook my head, laughing at how crazy I was when I was younger.

Amy's laughter filled the cell, the tension easing away as the memory lightened the mood. It was a small moment, a brief distraction from everything going on.

"But seriously," Kris started, his voice dropping into a more serious tone that caught me off guard.

"What is it?" I asked, surprised by his sudden shift in mood.

He glanced at Amy and then back at me, his eyes signaling that he wanted to be alone for this conversation. I understood immediately.

"Give us a second, okay?" I told Amy, getting up and motioning for Kris to follow me. We walked to his cell, more separated from everyone else, where he sat down on his bed, playing nervously with his hair before finally looking up at me through his curls. There was something innocent and childlike in his eyes then, something that brought back that familiar wave of guilt I always felt when I thought about what I was putting him through.

"I'm scared," he said quietly, his voice trembling just a little.

"I know. Me too," I replied, my own voice softer than usual.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "I was thinking… well, I kind of want to leave. I don't want to die here over something so stupid."

I nodded slowly, feeling tears pool in my eyes as I imagined the worst. The thought of my brother getting killed over a conflict he had nothing to do with tore at my heart. I had dragged him into this world, into this war, and now I was terrified of what might happen next.

"Kris… I can't blame you for wanting that," I said, my voice cracking as I fought to keep it together. "But I don't know where we could go. Everywhere is dangerous. Woodbury, the road… there's no safe place anymore."

He looked down, his fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of his blanket. "I know, but… maybe if we leave together, we could figure it out. You, me… maybe even Amy. We could find somewhere better, somewhere safe."

The idea was tempting, but it felt impossible. Yet, as I stood there looking at him, my little brother who was scared and desperate, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was right. Maybe this fight wasn't ours to fight. But how could I just leave? Leave Glenn, leave everything behind after everything I had been through?

Kris leaned his head against my shoulder, letting out a long sigh as we both sat in silence, the weight of everything hanging over us. The idea of running away, finding a place where we could be safe, where we didn't have to fight every day just to survive—it was so tempting. But I knew better than anyone that there was no true safety anymore. Not in this world.

"I used to think we'd be safe forever in Woodbury," he finally said, breaking the silence. "For a while, it felt like we were living in a different world. Like maybe all this wasn't as bad as it really is."

"I know," I said, nodding. "It was easy to believe that when we were behind those walls. But it was a lie, Kris. A dangerous one."

"Do you think… do you think we could find a place like that again? Maybe somewhere without all the lies?" he asked, his voice small, almost hopeful.

I hesitated, not wanting to crush that tiny bit of hope in him, but also not wanting to lie. "I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe. But even if we did, it wouldn't be like Woodbury. We'd have to build it ourselves, make it something real, something that lasts. And that's… that's not easy, Kris. It's not easy at all."

He nodded, understanding the reality of what I was saying. "But if we could… it'd be worth it, right?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. "It'd be worth it."

We sat there in silence again, the enormity of what we were talking about settling between us. Leaving, starting over—it wasn't just about finding a place to hide. It was about building a future, one that didn't involve constant fear, constant fighting. But was it even possible?

Kris suddenly sat up, looking at me with a serious expression. "You know what I miss?"

"What?" I asked, curious where this was going.

"Pizza," he said, deadpan. "Like, the kind you used to bring home from the shop. Remember?"

I blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. "Of all the things you could miss, it's pizza?"

"Yeah, but think about it. You'd bring home those giant pizzas with all the toppings, the melted cheese, and we'd pig out in front of the TV. And those breadsticks with the garlic butter…" He trailed off, a nostalgic smile on his face.

I couldn't help but smile too, the memories flooding back. "Oh man, those were the days. I'd come home exhausted from work, and you and Glenn would be waiting like vultures, ready to devour everything in sight."

Kris grinned. "And then we'd stay up all night playing video games. You'd get so mad at us when we wouldn't stop."

"Because you two were loud as hell!" I laughed. "I'd be trying to sleep, and all I'd hear was you two shouting at the screen, swearing up a storm. And then Glenn would try to shush you, but he was just as bad."

"Yeah, but you loved it," Kris teased, nudging me with his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe. But you guys were the worst when you got into those marathon sessions. I'd wake up to find you both still on the couch, controllers in hand, surrounded by empty pizza boxes."

"That's because I have the best sister ever," Kris said, giving me a playful wink. "You always took care of us, even when we drove you crazy."

"Yeah, well, someone had to keep you in line," I replied, trying to hide how much I missed those days.

"Remember that one time Glenn tried to beat me at that fighting game, and I totally wiped the floor with him?" Kris said, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Oh God, he was so salty about that," I laughed. "He kept insisting his controller was broken, like it wasn't just you being better at the game."

"He could never admit when I beat him," Kris said with a chuckle. "But he always came back for more."

We both fell silent for a moment, the memories bittersweet. It was strange to think how much had changed, how much we'd lost. But in that brief moment, it felt like we were back in those simpler times, just a brother and sister sharing a pizza, laughing and teasing each other.

"Those were good times," Kris said quietly, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness.

"Yeah, they were," I agreed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "But we'll have good times again. Maybe not the same, but we'll make it work. We've got each other, right?"

"Right," Kris said, smiling at me. "We always do."

"Speaking of Glenn, though—I noticed you've been avoiding him like the plague," Kris said, raising an eyebrow. "I just can't understand you two."

I sighed, leaning back against the wall of his cell. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Kris gave me a skeptical look. "You're not making it any less complicated by dodging him."

"I know," I admitted, rubbing my temples. "But it's not that simple. There's a lot of history there, Kris. Stuff you don't even know about."

"Sure, but it seems to me like you're both trying to figure it out while keeping each other at arm's length. It's like watching two people dance around a minefield."

I couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, even if it hit a little too close to home. "That's exactly what it feels like."

"Then maybe stop dancing around it," Kris suggested. "I get that you're mad, and you have every right to be. But avoiding him? It's just making things worse."

Kris's expression grew serious at my question. "And what if we all die here? You're just gonna let five years go down the drain without a second thought?"

I stared at him, his words hitting me hard. "You think I want that? You think I'm okay with just walking away from everything we've been through?"

"I don't know, Majesty," he replied, his tone softening. "But that's what it looks like from where I'm standing. You and Glenn...you've got history. Real history. And you're just gonna throw that all away because things got messy?"

"Messy is not the word—I can't even talk to him alone without us crying and... you know," I said, trailing off, feeling the embarrassment creeping up.

"Ew!" Kris yelled, his face scrunched up in disgust. "I don't wanna hear that!"

"You asked," I laughed, unable to help myself at his reaction. "I'm good with my words for every other situation but my own, I guess."

Kris shook his head, clearly trying to shake off the mental image. "Yeah, well, maybe save the details next time. But seriously, if talking leads to all that, then maybe you just need to... talk less?"

"Us not talking as much is probably the problem," I said, rolling my eyes. "Besides—he said he was going to talk to Maggie, and he hasn't. Have I ever been the type to just wait around and be on some guy's leash?"

Kris smirked, clearly enjoying where this conversation was heading. "Well, there was that one guy in high school…"

"Shut up!" I yelled, grabbing his pillow and smacking him with it.

"Alright, alright! I'm just saying though. You were really... not yourself without Glenn. I mean, you have him now, and there's still nothing good coming of it. I just wanna make sure you're not gonna go back to the Majesty from Woodbury."

His words hit a nerve, and I paused, staring at him. "The Majesty from Woodbury, huh? You think I was that bad?"

Kris shrugged, his expression softening. "You were hurting, Majesty. You weren't you. And I get it, you had to do what you had to do to survive, but... I just don't want you to go back to that dark place."

"I don't want that either. But if I was to be with him, I can't do it with him still trying to protect Maggie. And what if I'm being selfish anyway? What if I should let him try to continue this life he was building? With her."

Kris looked at me, his expression serious. "Majesty, you're not being selfish for wanting something good for yourself. But you're also not wrong to think about what Glenn needs. It's complicated, and there's no easy answer. But don't sell yourself short because of guilt. You deserve to be happy too."

I bit my lip, the weight of his words settling over me. "I know... I just wish it didn't feel like I'm tearing everything apart by being here."

"Maybe it feels like that because it's messy right now," Kris said. "But it's not just on you. Glenn has to make his choice too. And you have to decide if you're willing to wait for him to figure it out, or if you need to walk away for your own sake."

"I'm scared of both options," I admitted.

"That's because both are scary," Kris said, his voice gentle. "But whatever you decide, I'm here for you, Majesty. You're not alone in this."

I was thankful for Kris's words, them hitting me hard as I realized maybe I was being selfish in how I handled Glenn and even Maggie. I was wrong for hitting below the belt with both of them, and even if it was going to tear me apart, I knew deep down I needed to let Glenn handle the situation with care. Neither of the ways I was handling this was good for anyone.

The truth was, Glenn had built something with Maggie—and as much as I wanted him to just drop it all for me, it was more complicated than that. He deserved the chance to delicately make everything right the way he had been trying to. I needed to step back and give him that space, even if it hurt.

And then there was me—exactly who Kris told me not to be—the cold, emotionless, selfish person from Woodbury that I had turned into. I couldn't become that person again. I couldn't let myself fall back into that darkness, no matter how easy it seemed.

Kris's words reminded me of who I wanted to be, who I needed to be. For Glenn, for Maggie, for myself. It was time to stop running from my emotions, stop lashing out, and start facing things with the care they deserved.

That night after dinner, I found myself relieving Rick of watch outside—this time without alerting Glenn at all. The last thing I needed was to mince my words and end up on my back with Glenn again. I needed to think this through, really figure out what I wanted to say.

I had stolen a book and a pen, tearing out a blank page so I could finally get my thoughts in order. Maybe leaving him a note would be easier than having the conversation in person. It would give me a chance to apologize for everything—every hurtful word, every selfish action. Glenn needed to know that I was sorry, that I regretted how I'd treated him, and that he had my permission to move on. Whether he worked things out with Maggie or decided on something else, he needed to know it was okay.

I stared at the blank page for a long time, the silence of the night pressing in around me. It felt strange, trying to put everything into words. But I had to try. He deserved that much.

Finally, I put pen to paper, letting the words flow as best as they could:

Glenn,

I've been selfish, and I've hurt you in ways I shouldn't have. I've let my own pain and anger get in the way of seeing what really matters. I'm sorry for that.

You've built something with Maggie, and I've been wrong to try and come between that. I was wrong to think that I could just pick up where we left off and make everything okay. Life isn't that simple, and neither are our feelings.

If you want to move on, if you want to stay with Maggie, you have my blessing. I won't stand in your way anymore. You deserve to find peace, to find happiness, whatever that means for you.

But know that I'll always care about you, Glenn. I'll always love you. And no matter what happens, I'll be here if you need me.

I paused, reading over the words. It wasn't perfect, but it was honest. I signed the note with a simple —Majesty and folded it carefully. I wasn't sure when or how I'd give it to him, but at least I had something ready.

The next morning, I felt a renewed sense of comfort within me. Even though I didn't physically talk to Glenn, I got my feelings out and wasn't harboring any resentment—especially when I saw him talking to Maggie. I knew it was just about plans for reinforcing the prison yard, something I had even been included in, but regardless, it happened, and there was no pang of hurt or jealousy there.

With Amy and Kris out there helping them, though, I kind of felt lonely. Carol was one of the few people still inside, but she was taking care of Judith. Even though I had healed from Glenn, that was a can of worms I hadn't fully cracked open. I didn't really know exactly how to process those things—what I needed to make up for my own pain.

Instead, I had gone upstairs, finding Merle looking distraught as he tore through the mattresses in the cell block that no one slept on.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the mess he was making.

"I was looking for some dope, just a little vacation," Merle grumbled, not bothering to look up.

"Never thought I'd see you stoop this low."

He finally glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he shot back, "Well, I've seen what you'd do for a bottle, so don't be quick to talk your shit."

I couldn't help but laugh. He had a point, and there was always something uninviting but easy about Merle. Still, I had to address some things with him. "I'm not mad anymore for what you did to Glenn."

"Well, that means a lot," he said sarcastically.

"I mean it. I'm glad you're here, and you're back, and you don't have to be the Merle from Woodbury," I said, thinking about my own recent realizations.

Merle scoffed, shaking his head. "Ain't no Merle from Woodbury. I'm here for Daryl. That's it."

"Daryl's here for these people. Us. You're part of us."

Merle stopped his rummaging and looked up at me, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to gauge whether I was being sincere or just messing with him. "Part of us, huh? That what you think?"

Merle stopped his rummaging and looked up at me, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to gauge whether I was being sincere or just messing with him. "Part of us, huh? That what you think?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I do. You don't have to stay the black sheep when we can all live together."

Merle chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Let me tell you something. Rick asked me to do something today that shows how much there ain't no 'us'—that he'd trade me in a heartbeat if it meant keeping the rest of y'all alive."

I raised an eyebrow. "What'd he ask you to do?"

"Ah, ah, ah, sweet cheeks," he teased, wagging a finger. "All I'm doing is letting you know that 'us' only goes so far."

I rolled my eyes, trying to shrug off the warning. "Regardless of that, I care about you—even with everything you've done. I don't want you to keep being the black sheep when we can all live together."

"What's gotten into you, Miss Ray-o-Sunshine?" Merle asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"If there was something in me, there wouldn't be a problem," I joked back, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't tell me you're getting soft for lil' ol' me—I already got enough problems with Lui Kang over there," he quipped, nodding toward where Glenn had been.

"You're such an asshole," I said, shaking my head as I turned to leave. "Hope you find your dope."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll want a hit," Merle called after me, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I didn't bother responding, just rolled my eyes and kept walking. As much as Merle liked to put on that tough exterior, there was a part of him that I knew was listening, even if he'd never admit it.

I made my way to Glenn's cell, knowing this was the perfect time to slip in the note I'd written. He was out there, dealing with walkers and reinforcing the prison—focused on the survival of everyone here. I carefully folded the note, my hands trembling slightly as I tucked it under his pillow. Not my best work, but it was honest. Hopefully, he would find it and read it before things got even messier between us.

It wasn't much, but it was the only way I knew how to make things right.