The Kingdom

I felt like I was floating on air after our twosie shower.

Hearing those three words from Daryl felt like it had breathed new life into me. I already knew he loved me – he’d never stopped – but with the mental and physical torture he’d endured at the Sanctuary, and the damage it had done to him, I wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to come back to me in that way. To be able to voice it.

Of course, he wasn’t fully back – not by a long shot – but him being able to briefly express his feelings for me was progress.

It was obvious, though, how much he was strugglling with being touched – his battered body’s way of trying to protect itself, I suppose. But I would give him as much time as he needed and support him in the ways I could, for as long as it took.

Seeing his bruised form in the shower broke my heart. His injuries ignited a quiet anger in me that threatened to eat me alive, yet seeing him bearing all was also beautiful - and not because he was still the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on - It was because I knew how hard it was for him, knew how desperately his mind tried to convince him to shy away, but he did it – for me.

We’d both been naked, but it wasn’t sexual. It was about our bond, our closeness – taking care of each other when our world felt like it was falling apart. I longed for him in that way, of course I did, he was my husband... but he wasn’t ready.

We hadn’t even shared a kiss since we’d reunited. The moment just hadn’t happened. But when he was ready, I knew that his lips on mine would absolutely be worth the wait.

He looked utterly exhausted as we dried ourselves after showering, and I wasn’t sure if it was the days physical battles or conquering his demons to shower with me that had taken more out of him.

He perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking like he was already half-asleep; his eyes fluttering shut despite still sitting upright.

Neither of us had eaten a thing all day – Daryl hadn’t yesterday either – and there was no sense in going hungry when we didn’t have to - the one thing Hilltop had the most of was food.

“I’m gonna find us something to eat,” I told him. “Lay down. Rest.”

He lifted his head but barely opened his eyes. “Ain’t hungry.”

I brushed his wet hair back from his face. “You need to try and eat something.”

His lips parted like he might argue, but he must’ve been too damn tired because he just grunted and let his eyes fall shut again.

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slipping out the door.

I barely made it past the main doors before I spotted two familiar figures headed toward Barrington House. My stomach clenched. Maggie and Beth.

Beth saw me first. She hesitated, her arms tightening around the handle of the basket she carried before offering me a small nod. Maggie wasn’t far behind, her expression stoic.

I forced myself to close the distance. “Hey.”

That was all I had.

Beth shifted, lifting the basket a little. “We were bringing you guys some fruit, a few sandwiches. We wanted to check on you both. Rick asked us not to before, but... we miss you.”

Relief and awkwardness hit me all at once. It felt like so long since I’d spoken to them - since Hershel. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I said, meaning it, as I took the basket from Beth.

Maggie’s gaze was steady, searching. “How’s Daryl doing?”

I exhaled slowly. “He’s... not great. It’s going to take a while... They fucked him up, big style.”

Beth winced. Maggie’s jaw tightened.

“I’m so sorry about your dad."I blurted, needing to get it out. "He was one of the bravest, most incredible people I’ve ever met.”

I saw tears welling in both of their eyes instantly.

“Sorry. I don’t want to upset you - I just haven’t had chance to say...”

Maggie offered a nod with forced, wry smile.

I hesitated, debating whether to say more. Daryl hadn’t told me not to, but he hadn’t told me to, either. Still… I went for it. “He blames himself,” I admitted softly. “For Hershel.”

Beth’s breath hitched. Maggie’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read.

I took a deep breath, “Do you guys? Blame him?”

“No,” Maggie said firmly. “It’s not on him.”

Beth swallowed hard, tears shining in her eyes. “It wasn’t his fault.”

I nodded, but my chest ached. “I wish he knew that.”

Maggie reached out, squeezing my arm. “Want me to talk to him?”

I deliberated for a moment. “Maybe soon.”

She gave me a look that was all steel and quiet pain. “You get him better... but make sure he knows we love him. That we don’t blame him.”

“I will.” I assured her, before curiosity took over. “So... why were you guys actually here - at Hilltop? Was it because Jesus brought Daryl here?”

With everything going on, I hadn’t had the wherewithal to ask, until now.

Maggie shook her head. “Glenn, Bethy and I came straight here after what happened... Sasha came too. I was worried about the baby. I wasn’t feeling well even before.”

My eyes widened. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. But the doctor wants me to stay close, just in case." She reassured me. "The others arrived just after Daryl – we didn’t see him come when he got back, but Jesus told us he was here. Rick and Glenn went to see him, Aaron too – but we didn’t want to crowd him - the rest of us.”

“Okay... but why did the others come then? If it wasn’t for Daryl?”

Beth took a deep breath. “They came to convince Gregory to fight,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “Jesus thinks Hilltop could be an ally. Rick figures that if we stand together, maybe we stand a chance.”

I scoffed. “Lemme guess - Gregory wasn’t interested.”

Beth made a face. “Not even a little, according to Jesus. He’s terrified of them. Won’t risk losin’ what he’s got.”

I shook my head. “Coward.”

“Yeah,” Maggie muttered, rubbing her temple. “But there's a meeting tomorrow morning with Gregory. Will you guys be there?”

“I will be.” I answered instantly. “I’ll mention it to Daryl.”

I was about to ask if they thought any of the Hilltop people would actually stand up and fight, when Beth shifted, biting her lip.

“There’s more,” she said hesitantly.

Maggie glanced at her, then sighed. “Yeah. A lot more.”

Beth took a breath. “Carl snuck into the Sanctuary.”

“Shit. Yeah. I heard something... supply truck... What happened?”

Maggie nodded grimly. “Got inside, took out a couple Saviors. He was trying to kill Negan.”

“Jesus Christ.” My stomach turned. “But he's okay, though?”

“Yeah,” Beth said. “Negan found him. Didn’t kill him - he brought him back to Alexandria instead.”

Negan had returned him to Alexandria? What the hell? I exhaled hard, running a hand through my hair. That stupid, reckless kid. Brave as hell, just like his father.

Maggie’s expression darkened. “Negan killed Spencer.”

“One of the Saviors killed Olivia, too.” Beth added

I felt sick. I hadn’t known any of this. “Damn.”

“And they took Eugene. Negan wants him to make bullets like he did for Rosita.” Maggie told me.

Beth could tell by my face I was confused as hell.

“They took our weapons.” She clarified. “But Rosita found a gun, got Eugene to make her a bullet... She tried to shoot Negan.”

“Badass.” Slipped out before I could stop it. Beth giggled.

“Okay. My brain needs to catch up on all this. I’m gonna head back. Thank you, guys, “I gestured at the basket of food. “It’s really sweet of you.”

We said our goodbyes, starting to head in our separate directions.

“Oh.” I suddenly thought, turning back toward them. “Where’s Carol? I haven’t seen her.”

She hadn’t been there on the night of the line up – thank God – but I was surprised she wasn’t here with Rick trying to convince Gregory to fight.

Both of the Greene sisters looked uneasy as they processed my question. There was a pause before Maggie finally spoke.

“She left. A few weeks ago. Morgan’s looking for her.”

I walked back toward Barrington House. My head spinning. Carol left? Why? Where was she?

Daryl was fast asleep when I arrived back to the room. I was relieved – both that he was resting, and that we appeared to be sleeping in the bedroom instead of the hayloft tonight. I'd actually slept quite well our there, but I knew he hadn't slept a wink.

I set the basket down quietly, my stomach grumbling as I pulled out one of the sandwiches Beth and Maggie had packed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ate half of it without tasting much, my thoughts still stuck on our conversation. I hoped Daryl would believe their words - that he could let go of the guilt eating him alive. But I knew better.

With a quiet sigh, I brushed the crumbs from my hands and eased onto the mattress beside him.

God, I wanted to hold him.

I wanted to wrap myself around him, pull him against me, let him know he wasn’t alone. But I settled for lying close, careful not to jostle him, just listening to the steady rise and fall of his breath. It was the only sound in the quiet room, and I focused on it, letting it remind me, letting it reassure me that he was here, safe. We both were.

I fell asleep quickly but was awoken sometime during the night by Daryl shaking violently beside me.

The bed was literally trembling beneath us, his body stiff, fingers curling into the sheets like he was bracing for a blow. The sound he made - low and broken - tore right through me. I reached for him.

He curled into a foetal position at my touch, still asleep, looking like he was attempting to shield himself, protect himself.

My heart clenched. I’d never known him have nightmares before... that had always been my territory. But right now, I knew he was reliving the hell of the Sanctuary.

“Daryl,” I whispered, brushing his arm. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

He flinched violently, twisting away, caught somewhere between the dream and waking.

I tried again, louder this time. My fingers found his wrist, warm and slick with sweat, and I gave it a soft squeeze. “Daryl, it’s me. You’re safe.”

His breathing hitched, his body rigid, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d come back to me. Then, suddenly, he sucked in a sharp breath and stilled.

I felt it the second he snapped awake. His whole body tensed, awareness flooding into him. He pulled in a ragged breath, his head jerking toward me, eyes wide, wild, lost.

“Shh,” I soothed, shifting closer but not touching him. “You’re okay. It wasn’t real.”

His chest heaved, his hands flexing in the sheets. I could see the moment he realized where he was, the tension in his face turning to something else. Embarrassment.

“I’m here,” I reminded him. “I’ve got you.”

For a second, I thought he’d turn away. But he didn’t, so I reached out again, this time pressing my hand to his arm, warm and solid beneath my palm.

After a long, silent moment, he exhaled, his body slowly easing back into the mattress.

“I’ve got you,” I repeated

~

Daryl hadn’t looked at anyone during the meeting, but I didn’t care. He had been there, and that was what mattered.

I knew how much he hated it - standing in a room full of people, especially after what the Saviors had done to him. But he still showed up, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tight, as if he could make himself smaller, less visible. He never spoke unless necessary, but when he did, it was blunt and true. “Speakin’ out both sides of yur mouth,” he had spat at Gregory, and he was right.

Gregory had been useless. A snivelling coward who cared more about self-preservation than fighting for his people. When the meeting ended in predictable disappointment, I had almost been ready to walk away feeling completely disheartened - until I saw Enid standing outside with a group of Hilltop residents who had more of a spine than their so-called leader.

She had already convinced some of them to fight.

I didn’t know how she got here, or how she’d got them on side so fast, but I was grateful. Still, we needed more people. That was how we ended up in cars, rolling down the highway toward some undisclosed location, following Jesus’s lead in the hopes of finding more allies.

Daryl sat in the back seat beside me, his arms still crossed, tension in his shoulders, but he wouldn’t have missed this – not when it involved taking down the Saviors.

“You good?” I asked him softly.

His fingers flexed against his arm before he grumbled, “Ain’t ‘bout needin’ an army. If we find the right supplies… blow ‘em up.”

Tara, sitting in the passenger seat, had turned around. “There are civilians in there, you know. Workers. Families.”

Daryl didn't react. His expression remained hard, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “They’re under Negan. Ain’t no savin’ ‘em.”

Tara sighed, turning back.

We drove in silence until Jesus pulled off into a decayed parking lot. My hand had instinctively gone to my knife as I spotted two figures approaching on horseback. They stopped in front of us, declaring themselves to be called Richard and Alvaro.

Jesus had introduced us, keeping it vague but to the point. “We have similar interests.”

Richard had hesitated, scanning our group before nodding. “Follow me to the Kingdom.”

The Kingdom... Ooookay.

On first impressions, the place was impressive. Much like Alexandria, it seemed a stark contrast to the world outside. Children read in a makeshift outdoor classroom, vegetable gardens overflowed, people seemed... happy.

Morgan was already there, oddly enough.

“Athena. Daryl,” he greeted, and I noticed Daryl’s jaw clench at the sight of him. Not because he disliked Morgan, but because he felt uneasy around anyone who tried talking to him right now.

Rick wasted no time as he appeared behind us. “Carol - have you seen her?”

Morgan exhaled, his hands resting on his staff. “I found her. But she left. Didn’t say where she was going.”

Daryl’s body went rigid beside me. His hands clenched and unclenched, like he wanted to swing at something but had nowhere to direct the hit. He didn’t say a word, just turned his head away.

I’d told him about Carol leaving before the meeting this morning. I didn’t want him to hear it from somebody else. He didn’t react, but I noticed the sadness in his eyes. She was his best friend, probably the closest person to him in the world after me – not that I’d tell Merle that. He was going to miss her.

Richard led us toward a theater, proclaiming that we were about to meet the king.

“The King!?” I couldn’t stop myself asking Jesus as we walked. “Is this place for real?”

Jesus smirked but didn’t say anything.

And then we met him.

King Ezekiel.

Holy shit.

An African-American man with long, thick, grey dreadlocks sat on an ornate throne, regal in his posture, a fucking real-life tiger lounging at his side.

The looks on all of our faces when we spotted the beast were a picture. I actually saw Michonne pinch her arm to make sure she was awake. Daryl’s mouth hung open in bemusement. I heard Carl ask Glenn if he thought it was a robot.

A man I instantly knew I wanted to be friends with stood beside the throne, a large, tall specimen with long dark hair who was introduced as Jerry. His endearing mannerisms and big smile made me almost want to ask Rick if we could take him home with us to Alexandria. We could use someone as jovial as him to keep morale up.

Other than my soon-to-be bestie, this whole place seemed ridiculous, but Rick got straight to the point, asking for the Kingdom’s help in fighting the Saviors.

King Ezekiel looked less than pleased at Rick’s proposal, his gaze shifting to Jesus.

“You told them of our dealings?” he asked, more disappointed than angry. “Our business with the Saviors is private.”

Jesus didn’t falter. “They needed to know.”

The rest of the conversation was tense, full of pleading and warnings. Richard stepped in, to my surprise, arguing on our side that the Kingdom needed to strike first before the Saviors bled them dry.

Ezekiel eventually turned to Morgan.

“What is your opinion?”

Oh, here we go.

Kumbaya, love and peace.

Morgan hesitated. “There has to be another way. A non-violent way.”

Daryl scoffed under his breath. I squeezed his arm before he could say anything. Although I couldn’t help but glare at Morgan myself. Did the guy have no built-in survival instinct?

“Pussy.” Merle murmured under his breath, close to losing his cool.

Rosita was already there. “Morgan!” She yelled, exasperated. “Negan killed Abraham. Killed Hershel. He had Daryl – he escaped – he took Athena as well – tried to kill her. Now he has Eugene... come on!”

Morgan looked at her in disbelief.

In the end, King Ezekiel wouldn’t commit. But he did promised Rick an answer in the morning and invited us all to stay the night.

We had dinner, and then Richard showed us to our rooms.

The door clicked shut behind Daryl and I as we entered our room, sealing out the muffled sounds of the Kingdom beyond. The room was small - just a bed, a nightstand, and a window covered by thin curtains - but it was quiet, private. A relief after another long, tense day.

Daryl sighed, rolling his shoulders as he stepped toward the window. Out of habit, I followed, slipping my arms around his waist from behind, resting my cheek against his back.

He flinched immediately, his muscles going rigid beneath my touch.

He’d always been jumpy when people touched him without warning, he'd still been like it with me for God knows how long even after we got together - but that hadn’t been the case for so long until Negan tortured him. I hadn’t meant to push, I just did it automatically.

I worried I’d make him feel more uncomfortable by obviously moving away, so I didn’t. I held on for a few moments, testing it.

As I held him, a quiet realization settled in my chest.

Things were looking up, we potentially had a solution to our lack of people to join our fight against the Saviors. Physically, we were somewhere different, the Kingdom was a blank slate, and although tense, he hadn’t actually pulled away.

We were alone. Just us. And maybe it was time.

I shifted, pressing up on my toes, tilting my chin to kiss the side of his neck, just below his ear. My lips barely brushed his skin before I felt a sharp inhale, and a sudden, involuntary tremor through his body.

Then I felt the way his breathing changed. Short, uneven bursts of air escaping his nose, like he was trying so hard to keep it together.

“Hey.” I whispered. “Shall I let go?”

His hands twitched at his sides, shoulders jerking with the effort to stay still. His head tilted forward slightly, like he was bracing himself against the window frame. “Can’t-” His voice was barely there. “Fuck, I can’t.”

A dull ache formed in my chest as I slowly dropped my arms, stepping back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

He cut me off, shaking his head. “Ath,” he mumbled, voice rough, strained. “Ain’t you. Just...fuck. M’sorry.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t try to reach for him again. I just stood there, giving him the space he needed, even though everything in me wanted to hold him. To comfort him.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

His breathing hitched, like my understanding just made it worse. “It aint.” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “Shouldn’t be like this.”

“I understand.” I reassured him. “You need time.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally turning away from the window, but his eyes stayed fixed on the floor. “Ain’t fair to ya.”

“That’s not how this works,” I said gently. “I get it. I just... forgot.”

His jaw tensed, like he wanted to say something else, but his throat bobbed instead. His shoulders slumped slightly, his whole body weighted by something heavier than exhaustion.

He hated this. Hated that his body betrayed him like this, hated that he wasn’t just fine like he wanted to be. And I hated that he thought I’d ever see him as anything less because of it.

I stepped back, giving him space, and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere,” I told him. “It’s me and you. Forever. We kinda made a vow.”

His eyes flicked for a second to where his wedding ring used to be – the Saviors must have taken it, but I hadn't mentioned it – before he nodded half-heartedly.

I lay down after a while, my body turned toward him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he stood there, staring at the floor like it held all the answers. I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t feel like he wanted me to try – so I was just there, waiting, if he needed me.

I wasn’t sure when I drifted off. But when I woke up, the room was darker, the lantern burned low. Daryl was lying next to me, close enough that his fingers brushed against mine.

He didn’t seem like he was asleep, but I didn’t move, didn’t disturb him. I curled my pinky around his, and he let out the smallest, shakiest breath - like he’d been holding it in all night.

We’d work this out.

I knew we would.

A/N: I’m interested to hear your thoughts. Would you rather continue seeing Daryl and Athena work through his trauma as they prepare for all out war, or would you rather him just bounce back like in the show?

It doesn’t feel realistic for him not to struggle, and it not to affect their relationship – but I do value your opinions. Thank you for reading. ❤️