CONQUEST • Negan

Say Yes

I was redressed now, my dressings changed and fresh, after what might've been an hour of Negan just taking his sweet ass time, peppering me with compliments and flirtations. At one point, he had lead me back to the chair, sat me down, and got on his knees infront of me and literally begged to kiss my breasts. It was utterly absurd, but the more he coaxed me to give in, I had actually surprisingly found myself giggling at his ridiculousness.

Negan had gaped at me in that moment, gazing at me as if I were the sun shifting from behind a veil of dark clouds, finally shedding light on the day.

"Tell me I have a chance, Marlow." He had uttered, all the previous foolishness slipping away from his voice. This was the most serious I had seen him, all because of a laugh, ironically. "You're gonna break my damn heart if you tell me I don't."

I studied him, the flat line of his lips framed by that salt-and-pepper beard, a crease nestled between his dark brows. "Negan, you don't know anything about me. A stranger can't break your heart."

"Well you wanna explain to me why I feel this way?" he said as if he were actually imploring me for an answer, one that I didn't have.

"Infatuation?" I shrugged.

Negan sighed, and then moved back onto his feet. "Yeah, maybe. Let's just get this burn cleaned." I didn't like the defeat that laced his voice.

His disappointment was still briefly apparent, even now, as he instructed his men out the front of the Sanctuary. He hadn't told me what we were doing today, but he said it was gonna be fun, which by Negan's standards meant I had to prepare myself to witness some traumatising shit. Yes, fun, yay!

He had left me to stand beside one of the trucks, telling me to stay put, which rubbed me the wrong way, obviously, since I didn't exactly appreciate being given orders, but in favour of some peace, I did as he said. Plus, from here, I could see Daryl. He was guiding the fence walkers with some other men that were also dressed as he was, letters printed on their back in a much less permanent fashion than my own. He looked exhausted, his hair slick and unwashed, skin pallid and eyes drawn with dark shadows. I had debated risking the consequences and dashing over to the fence to speak with him, but it was a childish and hopeless idea that would only cause us both harm. Well, maybe not me, but for that, Daryl would only face double the punishment to make up for my lack of.

I'd decided in that moment that I would use whatever sway I had with Negan to convince him to give Daryl a break. I didn't have faith that I would be successful, but what was the use in having a man like him be obsessed with me if I didn't try to ask him to do some good. I was even prepared to give into some of the things he wanted from me if it meant that Daryl was given some food and rest.

My attention shifted back to Negan again as he cawed out a thunderous laugh that could be heard from across the yard. I watched him, I couldn't help it, his charm and charisma whilst speaking with his men, it was weirdly hypnotising. I understood why people flocked to follow him, his confidence had a strange way of lifting morale and faith, and enough grip that could likely convince a man to walk off a cliff for the good of his people. I couldn't promise that if I hadn't met Rick before Negan, that I wouldn't have accepted Negan as my leader instead. Though, knowing Negan, he would've wanted me to accept him as something more than only a leader.

And would I have accepted? Would I have joined his harem of wives just to seek the comfort and luxury they do? Would I have married him purely out of desire for him?

It was murky waters thinking about shit like this but, in all honesty, I'm not sure that I would've turned him down in that alternative universe. I had to admit to myself at some point that yes, Negan was hot, plain and simple, I was attracted to him, and of course I hated myself for that, but in that different situation, I would've accepted him. Though, I don't think I would have been exposed to the facets of Negan that I was now if I had been employed as one of his saviours, or maybe I would've and instead found his behaviour totally justified. I mean, right now, in the eyes of morality, there was only two facts between Negan and I that remained different: I had killed more of his men than he had of mine but Negan enjoyed murder, I didn't— not really, not unless I was locked within a furious haze. Maybe only then did I find some kind of satisfaction from the act.