Bloodlines.

Chapter Twenty Five: Daryl Stays at the kingdom.

Morning at the Kingdom

Rick, Michonne, Jesus, and Daryl stood in King Ezekiel's chambers, the sunlight filtering through the windows as Ezekiel sat in his chair. His tiger, Shiva, lay calmly at his side, her mere presence commanding attention. Morgan lingered outside the room, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.

Ezekiel took a deep breath before addressing the group. "I have to worry about my people," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of leadership. "I'm sorry."

Rick clenched his jaw, his frustration barely contained. Before he could speak, Daryl stepped forward, his arms crossed. "You call yourself a damn king," he snapped. "You sure as hell don't act like one."

Ezekiel's calm demeanor wavered slightly, but he stood firm. "All of this," he gestured around the room, "came at a cost. Lives. Arms. Legs. The peace we have with the Saviors is uneasy, but it is peace. I have to hold onto it. I have to try."

Rick's face darkened, but before he could respond, Ezekiel continued. "Although the Kingdom cannot grant you the aid you desire, I can offer you asylum. The Saviors never step within these walls. They won't know you're here."

Daryl snorted loudly, his frustration boiling over. "So we all just live here? Forget Alyssa? Forget Eugene? Nah. That ain't an option." His voice cracked slightly at the mention of Alyssa, but he quickly masked it with anger.

Michonne stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "Your people have paid the price already. You know what Negan does. That uneasy peace? It won't last. We're all just waiting for him to take more. You can wait and react, or you can act now."

Jesus added, his tone imploring, "Ezekiel, this isn't just about Alexandria or the Hilltop. This is about everyone. If we unite, we stand a chance. Alone, none of us do."

Ezekiel's expression remained stoic as he listened, his gaze shifting between each of them. Finally, he stood, his commanding presence filling the room. "I will consider your words," he said solemnly. "But my responsibility is to my people, and I will not make a decision lightly."

Daryl shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain. "You ain't making a decision at all." He turned on his heel and stormed out, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ezekiel watched him leave but didn't call him back. Instead, he turned to Rick. "I understand your pain. Truly. But my duty is to my people. I cannot risk them."

Rick nodded stiffly, though his disappointment was clear. "We appreciate your consideration. But time isn't something we have much of."

The group exited Ezekiel's chambers, frustration etched on their faces. The weight of his indecision lingered heavy in the air. As they walked toward the gates, Eric, one of Ezekiel's soldiers, caught up with them. His voice was firm, carrying a sense of urgency.

"How many people do you need?" Eric asked, falling into step with Rick.

Rick glanced at him, his expression tired but resolute. "We don't have enough to take on one outpost, let alone the Sanctuary."

Eric shook his head, his frustration matching theirs. "The Kingdom has to get involved. Or the Saviors will always be in charge. It isn't about soldiers—it's about survival. Every day we give them food, arms, supplies...we're making them stronger. Every day, they become harder and harder to beat."

Rick paused, nodding in agreement. "You're right. But Ezekiel—he's not ready."

Eric looked back toward the gardens, his determination unshaken. "He will be. He has to be."

Rick turned to Daryl, his voice insistent. "You stay here."

Daryl immediately bristled, his temper flaring. "I ain't leaving. I gotta get Alyssa back."