Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

All Hail the King

It was amazing what food, rest, and blinding anger could do for a person's overall well-being. It was equally amazing how one asshole could systematically trigger every violent tendency I possessed like it was his life calling.

I was scribbling furiously in a notebook Jesus had give me earlier, trying to tune out Gregory's nasally voice. I was fairly certain my rescuer expected me to use the notebook in a more "therapeutic manner", but everyone processed trauma differently, plotting and scheming was my way.

It was worth mentioning Rick only let me join the meeting when I promised not to kill the little weasel pretending to run Hilltop. My husband was harder to sway. Everyone, myself included, knew I didn't have my shit together, but my choices boiled down to sitting here pretending like I was alright or be left to my own devices. Once Legolas realized option two equated to unlimited "free time" he promptly wrapped his large hand around my wrist, and drug me into the office.

Me and free time had a sketchy history.

"No, no way in hell! That was not the deal. You people swore you could take The Saviors out, and you failed so any arrangement we had is now done. Null and void."

I was squeezing the pencil so tight it was liable to break in half. Better the pencil then Gregory's neck, or so I'd been told. I kept my head down, slumped in a chair, hoping not to draw any unwarranted attention. Daryl was beside me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring Gregory down. Merle was on my other side, cursing under his breath. It hadn't escaped my attention the brothers were strategically flanking me on either side.

"We aren't trade partners. We aren't friends. And...we never met," Gregory added. "We don't know each other. I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees at great personal risk."

"Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place," Jesus fired back, "Your courage was inspiring."

His sarcasm made me snort, and I felt Daryl's eyes on me. I looked up, and he winked at me quickly before turning his attention back to Gregory. Once he did all hints of playfulness vanished in a flash replaced by his signature scowl that was known to send mere mortals running for their lives.

"Hey, don't you work for me? Aren't we friends?"

This guy was such an asshole it was difficult to wrap my head around it.

"Gregory, we already started this," Rick insisted.

"You started this."

"We did and we're gonna win."

"They are killers."

"Is this how you want to live? Under their thumb? Killing your people?"

He probably did so long as it wasn't him they killed. It wasn't that he was selfish as much as he just didn't give a shit about anyone else.

"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like." I bent further over my paper, drawing and writing, anything to keep from breaking my pinky promise to Rick. "Sometimes Ricky, you have to count-the-blessings-you-have."

There was an invisible clock counting down in my head. If it reached zero and this ass-clown was still talking bad things might happen.

"How many people can we spare?" Maggie asked, "How many people here can fight?"

Hmm, let me think, one, Jesus.

"We?" he scoffed, "I don't even know how many people we have...Margaret." My pencil snapped in half at the exact same time Merle's jaw snapped closed. "And does it even matter? What...what are you gonna do...start a platoon of sorghum farmers? Cause that's what we got...they grow things. They're not gonna want to fight."