Alice was not worried of the unknown. She was worried of what she already knew. She was worried of the promises that the new people were making to her-the ones bringing the people of a fallen Woodbury into their own settlement. The girl felt sorry t...
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A L I C E
ALICE GRIMES ALWAYS WONDERED how the two-door truck gifted to her by an adolescent Carl Grimes still managed to run, even after all this time. The actively sputtering engine could have been attributed to low mileage and frequent periods of inactivity. The man whose body was imprinted in the passenger seat becoming rather handy under the hood could have also done the job, just as well.
It seemed like years since the two had gone for a ride, like this one. Something of old days that they wished could've been good. Their teenage deviance that was destined to interfere with any of Rick Grimes' plans.
Now, the man was no longer around and their troubles had evolved. Civil war had taken place, so very long ago. Carl's father a casualty during the thick of it. His decision to save Negan having an explosive outcome.
Their people split in half, marginalized by a small crack that quickly chipped away into a deepened trench between the communities. Naturally, Carl and Alice followed after their people. He stayed at Alexandria with Judith and Michonne, maintaining his family despite the giant hole left by his father. She stayed there too, keeping close to Eugene and Rosita, learning and absorbing everything they had to teach her.
Though Carl and Alice never left each others' sides, the distance between the communities took a toll on everyone involved. The makeshift rings on their fingers—now smoothed over and reinforced by the most promising blacksmith around—were still just for show.
After being given a second chance at life, an engagement was what they settled on calling it. Long ago, the two agreed that someday they'd have a real wedding, but they dreamed to have everyone in attendance.
And this day was that day.
The Kingdom decided to hold a fair—a celebration where each of the ostracized communities could come together. Despite the war, the whisperers, everything they'd lost. To set aside differences and accept change. It was a first for many. And for many other things, it was a finalization.
It wasn't a fairytale wedding. It wasn't dazzling or magical or grand. Carl didn't stand there in a dry-cleaned tux. The man didn't get his first look at her as she floated down the aisle, eagerly approaching the rest of her life.
It was better than that.
Alice had bursted into the empty auditorium wearing her wispy cream-colored dress and hand-made veil. They both trailed in the air behind her, neither being long enough to touch the ground. It just wasn't her style. Her colorful bouquet—courtesy of the children—was balled in her fist, waving around as she jogged through the rows of chairs in her flats.
