IN WHICH - The last thing that Hope Mikaelson expected when she came out of Malivore was to still be alive, the second last thing she expected was to be disowned by most of her living family, and the final last thing she expected was some ancient be...
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THIRD PERSON POV
CHAPTER 37
It had been a week since everything shifted, and Hope felt like she was walking on eggshells. She'd been patient at first, giving Daryl and Rick space to work through whatever was going on. Merle had waved her off when she tried asking about it, saying, "Let 'em sort it out, darlin'. They'll be back when they've worked the stupid outta their system." Glenn had been less blunt but echoed the same sentiment.
But patience wasn't her strong suit—not when she missed them so much. Not when the air around them felt so wrong.
Hope leaned against the edge of the prison wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out at the horizon. The sun was setting, bathing the courtyard in a warm, golden glow, but she didn't feel the comfort of it. Her mind was too preoccupied, turning over every interaction she'd had with them—or lack thereof—over the past week.
Daryl wouldn't even look at her. Anytime she tried to talk to him, he found some excuse to walk away, disappearing into the woods or the lower levels of the prison. It stung more than she wanted to admit. They'd shared something so intimate, so real, and now it felt like he was pretending it hadn't happened at all. Every time she thought about the way he'd held her that night, the way he'd whispered her name like it meant something, it made the ache in her chest worse.
Rick wasn't much better. He wasn't avoiding her entirely, but the distance between them was palpable. Their conversations were short, clipped, and strictly business. He'd started spending more time in the gardens, tending to the crops with a kind of ferocity that made it clear he was working through something. Anytime they were in the same space, he seemed tense, like he was holding back something he wanted to say.
And then there were the rare moments when she saw them in the same place. It was always the same—a few sharp words, a heated exchange, and then one of them storming off before it could escalate further. Hope didn't understand it. They'd always been able to work together, to respect each other as leaders. Now, it felt like they were constantly on the verge of a fight.
She pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaling deeply. She missed them. She missed Daryl's quiet strength, the way he always seemed to have her back without needing to say it out loud. She missed Rick's steady presence, the way he made her feel like they could handle anything together. But more than that, she missed feeling like they were a team.
"I don't get it," she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible. "What changed?"
Her mind wandered back to the night with Daryl, how vulnerable and open he'd been, how much he'd let her in. She'd thought... she'd hoped it had meant something. But now? Now she wasn't so sure.
And Rick... he'd been her rock through so much. They'd fought side by side, carried the weight of the group together. She didn't know what she'd done to make him pull away, to make him look at her like she was just another person in the group instead of... instead of what? She didn't even know anymore.
