I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Made of glass

Over the couple of days that followed, Mia's cold did not seemed to relent, with the tiny toddler clinging to Blake and bursting into wet and snotty tears every time the blonde woman left her sight.

She was indeed feeling sorry for herself, and it seemed that cuddles from Blake were the only thing that made her feel even slightly better.

Negan had grumbled at first, trying to prise Mia away, vocalising his worries about Blake catching the flu in her condition. But Blake had merely pawed him away, and told him not to worry so much.

But it was obvious to Blake that Negan was feeling irritable himself after night after night of Mia waking up every hour, snuffling and whining. And so, had soon got work started on clearing out the room next door to his and Blake's, to set Mia up with her own space. Or rather, he barked orders at people to do the work for him.

And soon enough, the room was livable, bright and airy, with pale walls and a small twin bed tucked into one corner, but as Blake had stood there in the doorway, fingers brought up to her mouth, she knew that something about it, just didn't feel quite right.

By the third day, Negan, after being kicked out of bed to go get Mia some juice at 5am as the toddler with a high fever wailed to the heavens, had come back upstairs declaring that he was off out on a run with Simon for the day and wouldn't be back until late.

It was obvious that he needed a break. And Blake was not ever going to deny him that.

And so he had kissed her gently, glared at Mia, but ruffled her brown locks warmly nonetheless, before stalking from the room.

Blake couldn't say she was a huge fan of Negan being away for too long, but at least that gave her a chance to do what she wanted to do today.

And so, roping in Tanya and Franke to help out, Blake had set to work.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Tanya as she and Blake climbed the stairs with arms laden, not even thirty minutes later.

The two women had left Frankie keeping an eye on a snoozing Mia and had headed down to the marketplace to look for an entire list of things Blake had had her eye on, to decorate Mia's room with.

It was certainly safe to say that Blake was in a nesting mood. And there was no way that Mia was going to be holed up in some dingy little room without so much as a rug across the unpolished floorboards.

But rather than be put-out by Blake taking what she wanted from the expansive marketplace down on the ground floor of the looming factory, as she had been slightly worried about, the Sanctuary residents had been more than happy to advise and offer things that weren't on show to the expectant mother, showering her in love and kindness as they so often did these days.

"Oh I've got the cutest little throw rug Mia might like, let me just go fetch it."

"Tommy used to be a carpenter, how about he makes you a little painter's easel for her? My grandaughter used to love playing on hers."

And so it was safe to say that Blake had been overwhelmed by the response she had gotten from the Saviours.

She was liked. Certainly more than Negan was.

People didn't kneel for her these days, granted, but they still seemed to worship her, treating her like she was family.

And perhaps in a way, she was.

This woman who had brought everyone together. Made them feel safer under Negan's reign.

And all of that made Blake happy.