super bothered

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:

She learned to survive by never needing anyone. In the aftermath of the outbreak, she follows trails, hunts for food, and keeps moving, because every person she loses is another reason to stay alone.

A chance encounter with Daryl Dixon leads to a trade, a farm, and a group of survivors who challenge everything she believes about trust. What starts as a temporary stop slowly becomes something harder to walk away from: shared meals, quiet conversations, and people who start looking for her when she disappears.

When danger pulls her back to the farm and puts Daryl’s life in her hands, she realizes the thing she feared most has already happened—she found something worth coming back for.

---

Part I - The Trade

Part II - The Farm

Part III - The Outsider

Part IV - The Fence

Part V - The Way Back

Part VI - The Things We Keep

Part VII - The Cost

Part VII - The Cost

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Morning arrives quietly, but nothing on the farm feels the same. As unease spreads through the group, long-buried truths come to light, forcing everyone to confront what they've been avoiding. With loyalties tested, grief laid bare, and tensions finally reaching a breaking point, one irreversible decision changes the farm forever.

Word Count: 3219

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, zombie violence, gunfire, major character death (canon), child death (canon), grief, emotional trauma, and heavy angst.

A/N: I moved around some of the canon events to the show in this chapter, I hope that doesn't bother anyone! Probably one of my favorite reader/Daryl interactions so I’ve written so far in this chapter! I love when small moments mean SO MUCH.

Previous Part - Masterlist

---

The morning came quietly, without asking. I woke up before the sun cleared the trees, though I couldn’t remember ever really falling asleep.

The farm was still wrapped in blue-gray dawn. Dew clung to the pasture grass, turning every blade silver. Somewhere beyond the barn, a rooster crowed into the cool morning air, answered by another farther off. The cattle shifted lazily behind their fence, leather creaking as they rose one by one.

Everything looked exactly as it had yesterday.

Nothing felt the same.

My bedroll was already packed. I’d rolled it once the night before. Then, unrolled it. Then rolled it again before sunrise.

I still hadn’t decided whether I was staying, or leaving. 

I adjusted the strap across my shoulder before immediately pulling it back off again with a frustrated sigh. 

“Make up your mind,” I muttered to myself. 

The words disappeared into the morning air. I rested the pack against the trunk again. 

Not yet. 

My leg complained the moment I straightened. Hershel’s stitches tugged beneath the fresh bandage, a sharp reminder that despite everything, I’d promised to take it easy.

Funny how yesterday that had sounded like kindness. Today it felt like an obligation. 

I wandered toward the farmhouse with nowhere in particular to be. People moved through the yard in familiar rhythms. 

Beth shook out quilts across the clotheslines. Patricia carried a basket towards the chicken coop. Jimmy wrestled with a stubborn gate that refused to stay latched. 

Life. Ordinary, stubborn life. Except no one seemed willing to meet anyone else’s eyes. 

Rick stood near the porch speaking quietly with Hershel. Too quietly. Neither man looked angry. Neither man looked comfortable either. Rick’s shoulders were tight. Hershel's expression was unreadable. 

When they finished speaking, Rick rubbed both hands over his face before walking away without another word. Hershel watched him go, then turned back toward the house as though there was still work to be done.

My stomach tightened. 

Across the yard, Glenn nearly walked straight into Maggie before mumbling an apology. She laughed, he didn’t. He kept glancing toward the barn, then quickly looking away, like he was afraid someone would notice. 

I noticed.

Shane was easier to read. He wasn’t doing anything. That was the problem. He paced across the yard, then back again. His hands moved from being positioned on his hips to moving through his short hair, to being folded across his chest. 

He looked like a wolf wearing a man’s skin. Waiting, watching. Counting seconds until something snapped. He reminded me of a horse that smelled smoke before anyone else did. Restless, unable to settle, and ready to bolt. 

The feeling settled low in my stomach. 

Something was coming. I didn’t know what. Only that the farm was holding its breath.

— 

I spent the better part of the morning trying to keep my hands occupied. I helped Patricia carry feed to the chicken coop, though she insisted she could’ve managed without me. Beth had tried making conversation while we folded laundry, but even she’d fallen quiet after a while. The stitches in my thigh tugged every time I bent too far, reminding me Hershel’s idea of light duty was still very much in effect. 

So I wandered. Not because there was anywhere to go. Just because standing still made it easier to think.

I found myself circling the yard, watching the farm move through another ordinary morning. Except, it wasn’t ordinary. 

Rick was nowhere near the porch where he’s usually sat with Carl. Shane hadn’t stopped pacing since sunrise. Even the horses seemed to notice something was off, ear flicking toward raised voices I couldn’t quite make out from across the pasture. 

I was halfway back toward the oak when I noticed everyone drifting toward the farmhouse. Not all at once. One by one. Andrea emerged from her tent.  T-Dog crossed the yard. Dale climbed down from the roof of the RV. Maggie emerged from the stable, wiping her hands on her jeans before slowing as she realized something was happening. 

My stomach tightened. 

Conversations died off as people gathered into a loose circle. No one looked relaxed.

Curiosity got the better of me. I started walking that direction, slower than I would’ve liked thanks to my leg. The closer I got, the more voices carried across the yard. 

“...should’ve told us…”

Another voice answered, too low to make out. 

“...inside the barn…”

I frowned. Someone spoke over them. 

“...can’t stay here…”

My pace slowed. 

Another voice, sharper this time.

“...walkers…”

The air seemed to leave my lungs. I kept walking. No one noticed me, or if they did, they were too distracted to care.

Instead of listening to the words, I found myself looking at faces. Rick stood with his shoulders drawn tight, exhaustion carved deep beneath his eyes. Shane looked like he was one bad sentence away from exploding. Dale’s expression wasn’t angry, it was disappointed. Daryl was still bandaged, but stood along with the group. 

Glenn stood near the back of the group, refusing to look at anyone for more than a second. His eyes found the ground instead. Then they found me. His shoulders sagged. For the briefest moment, we locked eyes. His face fell. Just slightly. Then he looked away again. I didn’t need him to say a word. Something had happened. 

My gaze continued around the circle until it landed on Carol. She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t crying. She just stood there, hands clasped so tightly the color had drained from her knuckles. Her eyes moved from Rick, to Daryl, to Shane, then back again, lingering on each of them just long enough to search for something that wasn’t there. Hope, or permission to keep hoping.

Hope. Fear. Desperation. All tangled together. 

Yesterday, I’d been wondering whether I belonged here. This morning it looked like nobody did. 

A cold knot settled in my stomach. I looked from Carol to the barn. 

The weathered boards stood exactly as they had yesterday. Still, quiet, ordinary. Except, they weren’t. Not anymore. 

The conversations sharpened as I stepped closer, voices finally separating from one another. 

“...walkers…”

“...locked inside…”

“...Hershel…”

“...this changes everything…”

I stopped just outside the circle. Nobody had to explain it. I already knew. And judging by the looks on everyone’s faces… Whatever happened next wasn’t going to leave anyone untouched. 

The conversation around me splintered into smaller arguments. Some drifted toward the porch. Others stood frozen where they were, still staring toward the barn as if looking long enough might somehow change what was inside it.

Rick finally broke away from the group.

“I’ll talk to Hershel,” he said, more tired than determined. 

No one stopped him. 

I watched him cross the property toward the stable where Hershel had disappeared. His shoulders were stiff, every step measured.

Beside me, Daryl shifted weight.

“...You already knew.” He said. 

It wasn’t really a question. I kept my eyes on Rick. 

“Yeah.” I said simply, frowning.

“When?” he questioned. 

“Yesterday.” He glanced at me. “Glenn”

A grunt escaped him, “‘Course.”

Silence settled between us again. I folded my arms across my chest.

“I confronted Hershel.” That finally earned me a look. 

“...How’d that go?” Daryl looked down at me. 

I let out a humorless laugh, “He told me if that’s how I saw the world…” I swallowed. “...I couldn’t stay here.” 

For a second, he looked toward the farmhouse. “...Hell.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of us had anything useful to add to that. 

Across the yard, Rick reached Hershel. The two men spoke quietly beneath the stable overhang, too far away to hear. A mirror image of them speaking this morning. 

I wasn’t watching them anymore, I was watching Shane. He hadn’t moved, not really. He stood apart from everyone else, weight shifting from one boot to the other. His hands couldn’t decide where to settle, on his hips, crossed over his chest, or raking through his hair only to be dropped again. 

His eyes never left the barn. Every muscle in his body looked wound too tight. I’d seen it before. Not on farms. Not in horses. In men. Men who’d already decided what they were going to do and were only waiting for the moment they could justify it.

I felt my stomach sink. 

“...Rick’s not gonna talk him outta this.” Shane stated, maybe to himself, maybe to the part of the group still around. 

Daryl followed my gaze. 

Shane started pacing. Once, twice. His head shook every few seconds like he was arguing with someone only he could hear. I watched his hands. They opened and closed, opening again. He wasn't calming down, he was building. 

The argument at the stable ended. Rick turned and started back toward the house. I stepped away before I could think better of it. 

“Rick,” I called. 

He looked up, “What?” He said, almost impatiently. 

I glanced toward Shane before looking back at him. “You need to watch him.” Rick followed my eyes. Shane had stopped pacing. Now he was just… staring. “He looks like he’s about to do something he’ll regret.” 

Rick sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, “I know.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think you do.” His attention returned to me. “I grew up around men who couldn’t let something go.” I nodded toward Shane. “That’s what this looks like.” 

Rick looked over again. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. 

Finally, he exhaled, “I appreciate it.” He looked toward him. “But, I’ve got Shane handled.”

I held his gaze for another second. Something in my chest told me he was wrong. My stomach dropped.

Then, a shout cut across the farm. 

“Hershel!” Every head turned. 

Jimmy came running from the pasture, breathing hard. 

“Hershel! We caught two more!” 

The uneasy quiet shattered. 

Jimmy stumbled to a stop a few yards from Hershel, bent over with his hands on his knees as he fought for breath. His words settled over the yard like a storm cloud. 

Hershel closed his eyes for the briefest moment before nodding once. 

“I’ll be there directly.”

Jimmy turned and hurried back toward the pasture. No one spoke. Then, Shane laughed.

It wasn’t amusement. It was sharp, bitter. 

“You hear that?” Shane said to the group, raising his arms toward Jimmy and Hershel. 

Nobody answered. 

He looked from Rick to Hershel, shaking his head. “They’re out there catchin’ more of ‘em.” His voice rose with every word. “Like stray dogs!”

“Shane,” Rick warned. 

Hershel had joined the circle now. His face was tense, eyes stern. Beth, Maggie, and Patricia had all made their way outside to see what the commotion was about. 

“No,” Shane took a step backward, never taking his eyes off Hershel. “No, I’m done.” He jabbed a finger toward the barn. “You got people sleepin’ fifty feet from a damn barn full of walkers.”

“They’re sick,” Hershel answered. 

“They’re dead.” Shane bit.

“They’re people.” Hershel snapped back.

“They’ll kill every last one of us!” Shane exclaimed, throwing his hands up. The yard had gone completely silent. Shane looked around the rest of us. “Y’all really okay with this?”

No one answered.

His eyes settled on the RV. Something inside me tightened. He’d made up his mind. Before anyone could move, Shane strode across the yard. 

“Shane!” Rick called after him. He didn’t stop. 

I watched him go, making long, purposeful strides. No hesitation. That feeling I’d had all morning settled like stone in my stomach.

“...He’s doing it,” I murmured. 

Beside me, Daryl followed him with narrowed eyes. 

Rick hurried after him, “Shane!”

Still nothing. Shane reached the RV in seconds. He threw open one of the storage compartments and reached inside. Metal clattered. A rifle appeared in his hands. Then another. Rick grabbed his arm, “No.”

Shane jerked free so violently that Rick nearly lost his footing. 

“They’re gonna get somebody killed.” Shane sneered. 

Dale spoke up, “They’re already dead!” 

“Oh they’re dead all right,” Shane’s voice cracked across the farm. “I’m done pretendin’ otherwise.”

Shane made his way back to the group in front of the barn, Rick on his heel. He shoved another rifle into T-Dog’s hands. Another toward Andrea. One toward Glenn. And lastly one toward Daryl who already had his crossbow on his back. Nobody wanted to take them. Nobody wanted to refuse. 

He sneered and looked me up and down after handing Daryl the rifle. 

I reached over my shoulder. My bow came free with the familiar whisper of leather against worn wood. Not because I wanted to use it, because I knew I might have to. My fingers checked the string without thinking. Still tight, still true. One hand brushed the grip of my sidearm resting against my hip. Loaded and ready. 

I wasn’t thinking about the barn. I was thinking about Beth, about Carl, Patricia, Maggie, Lori, and Carol. If those doors opened, someone needed to be ready for the people standing behind me.

Shane turned then, toward the barn. Rick stepped into his path. 

“Don’t,” Rick commanded. 

“Move.” Shane grunted. 

“I’m asking you,” Rick tried to reason. 

“I’m done asking,” Shane shoved him aside. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to make a point. 

The chain on the barn doors rattled beneath Shane’s hands.

Hershel’s voice finally broke, “No!”

Too late. 

The lock hit the dirt. The chain followed. 

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, Shane grabbed both barn doors and threw them wide open.  

The barn breathed. A damp, rotten smell rolled out through the opening before anything else did. Then came the shuffling. A hand appeared around the edge of one door. Another. Gray fingers dragging against weathered wood. 

Someone behind me sucked in a breath.

The first walker emerged into the light with an uneven, dragging step. Gray skin stretched tight across its face. One eye hung cloudy in its socket. It blinked against the morning sun as though it remembered what daylight was. 

Another figure appeared behind it.

Then another. 

Then the darkness inside the barn began to move. 

Shapes crowded together, bumping against one another as they shuffled toward the open doors. 

Shane didn’t hesitate. The first rifle shot cracked across the farm. The walker’s head snapped backward. Another shot. Another body hit the dirt. 

Everything erupted at once. Gunfire swallowed the quiet morning. People shouted over one another. Walkers lurched forward, drawn by the noise.

I never drew the bow. Instead I turned. 

Carl.

The boy stood frozen near Lori. 

I crossed the distance in three limping strides, putting myself between them and the barn. 

My arrow stayed on the string, but I couldn’t make myself loose it. Not while there were still people between me and the dead. The living came first.

Not yet. Only if one got through. 

Andrea fired, T-Dog fired. Glenn’s rifle kicked against his shoulder. Another walker collapsed. The smell of burnt powder filled the property. 

Someone screamed. Another shot echoed, then another. Another. 

Bodies piled in front of the barn. Every instinct I had screamed to watch the tree line, the flanks, the places danger usually came from. Instead it was all in front of us. One by one they fell. Until…

Silence. Not complete. 

Just… Waiting. 

Something moved inside the darkness. Slow and small. A tiny figure stepped into the sunlight. 

Brown hair.

Too small.

Bare feet.

A faded shirt. 

My stomach dropped.

Nobody moved.

Carol made a sound I hope I never hear again. It wasn’t a scream. It was hope breaking. My eyes drifted beside me, to Daryl. The rifle Shane had handed him was now on the ground. His face had gone completely still. And suddenly… 

I saw the doll pressed into his hand while he’d bled in the bottom of that ravine.

Mud. 

The horse.

Every mile he’d walked.

Sophia. 

He’d found her trail. He’d been so close.

Sophia took another slow step forward. Her eyes were empty, clouded. Her mouth opened with a low rasp. 

Carol whispered her name. 

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Rick broke the shock and walked past all of us. Nothing stopped him. 

He raised his revolver with shaking hands. 

Sophia kept walking. Not toward him. Toward all of us. 

For a heartbeat the entire world held its breath.

The shot cracked through the farm. Everything disappeared into ringing. Nothing else existed. Not the cattle. Not the crying. Not the barn. 

Just that impossible, deafening silence that follows a single gunshot when your mind refuses to believe what your eyes just saw.

Then someone moved. 

Daryl.

“What the hell were we doin’?” His voice ripped through the silence, through Carol's quiet cries. I hadn’t heard him so angry before. 

“I spent days out there!” Nobody answered. He kicked the rifle so hard it spun across the dirt. 

 “I looked everywhere!” He turned on the group, eyes bright with grief and fury. 

“She was right here!” His voice broke. “Right here the whole damn time!” 

His crossbow was off his back and hitting the ground with a violent clatter.

Carol collapsed into sobs now, no longer the quiet cries of someone in shock. Rick couldn’t look at anyone after what he had just done. Hershel stared at the ground as though the earth itself had betrayed him. No one had words. Because there weren’t any. 

Daryl turned on his heel and began to walk away. Hands on his head, brushing through his hair. Lori held onto Carl, tight enough that maybe she could reverse what he’d just seen. T-Dog made his way to Carol’s side. 

I looked toward the dirt. The crossbow still lay where Daryl had thrown it. No one else seemed to notice. 

I limped over and picked it up. The wood was worn from use. I brushed the dirt from one limb before carrying it back.

I started in the direction Daryl had gone, picking up my own pace. I limped while trying to catch up with him. 

“Daryl!” I called. He didn’t look at me. So, I called for him again, more stern this time. 

He stopped, shaking his head, breathing heavily. Slowly, he turned towards me. 

I held out the crossbow to him. 

He shook his head once, “Ain’t want it.”

I left the crossbow hanging between us. 

“I said I don’t want it.” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired, broken. 

I waited. 

Back home, silence had always been a part of grief. You let people find the end of it themselves. 

After a while I spoke, “Back home, when horses got out…” I said quietly, still holding the crossbow between us, “...sometimes we’d spend days looking. We’d ride until there weren’t any tracks to follow.” He didn’t answer. “Sometimes we’d find ‘em standing in the next valley over.” A pause. “Sometimes all we’d find was the saddle.” 

Daryl’s jaw tightened. I looked down at the crossbow between us. 

“We never regretted looking. It didn’t make the ride a waste.” I continued. “If all you ever find is the saddle, that doesn’t mean you were wrong to search.”  A breeze stirred between us. “It just meant we’d done everything we could.” 

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t look up. 

Then, slowly, he reached for the crossbow. 

His fingers brushed mine as he took the crossbow back. Then, he slung it over his shoulder without a word. 

---

Part VI - The Things We Keep

Paring: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Recovery brings quiet mornings, familiar routines, and a chance to catch your breath. But beneath the calm, difficult truths are waiting to be uncovered, and not everyone sees the world the same way.

Word Count: 3060

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/themes, discussions of death, angst, emotional confrontation.

A/N: I LOVE writing this series and I can't wait to continue. Bring on the angst folkssss! I really loved writing a quieter, but much more emotional chapter. Hope you guys like it too!

Previous Part - Masterlist - Next Part

---

Morning arrived slowly across Hershel’s farm. The dew still clung to the pasture grass when I eased myself onto the porch steps outside the farmhouse, a small pile of arrows resting beside my boot. The sun hadn’t yet climbed high enough to burn the mist away. Somewhere beyond the barn, cattle called to one another while chickens scratched impatiently beneath the fence. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have anywhere I was supposed to be.

It felt wrong. 

I shifted my leg carefully, the fresh stitches pulling just enough to remind me Hershel had won the argument. 

“Light duty,” he had called it. 

Apparently that meant I wasn’t allowed to disappear into the woods, climb ravines, chase deer, or, in his words, “do anything else foolish enough to make me stitch you up again.”

I still wasn’t convinced hauling Daryl out of that ravine qualified as foolish. 

Necessary, maybe. Painful, definitely. But not foolish.

A small pile of broadheads glinted beside me. If I couldn’t hunt, I could at least make sure my arrows were ready when I could. 

I settled one shaft across my knee and began working a whetstone along the edge of the broadhead. Slow, even strokes. The steel whispered against the stone. Again, again, again. It was calming, familiar. There was comfort in work that didn’t ask questions. 

When the edge caught the morning light just right, I nodded to myself and set it aside, reaching for the next. 

A floorboard creaked softly behind me. Not the heavy, deliberate step of Hershel. Lighter, uneven. I didn’t bother looking up. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, “Thought Hershel told you to stay in bed.”

A grunt answered, “He did.” 

I finally glanced over my shoulder. Daryl stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. Fresh bandages disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, and the side of his face was still mottled with bruises. He moved to place his pack onto the porch. 

He looked like he slept about as well as I had. 

Which was to say, not at all. 

He wandered over without another word and lowered himself onto the porch railing with considerably more care than he’d admit was necessary.

For a minute, neither of us spoke. I returned to my arrows. Steel whispered against stone. Daryl busied himself checking the string on his crossbow, running rough fingers along it before tightening one of the bolts that held the limb in place. 

Work, just different kinds of it. 

His eyes drifted toward the pile beside my boot, “How many you got?”

“Enough,” I said, eyes still on my task. 

He nodded once, “Then why sharpen more?”

I shrugged without looking up, “My hands need something to do.”

He was quiet for a second, “...yeah.”

That single word carried more understanding than most conversations I’d had in months. The silence settled comfortably again. 

The farm slowly came alive around us. I could hear Maggie calling to one of the horses. Someone laughed near the chicken coop. A door slapped shut somewhere inside the house. 

I worked at another edge until it caught the light. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Daryl wasn’t looking at his crossbow anymore. His attention kept drifting toward the tree line. Not searching exactly, just… checking. Like some part of him still expected a little girl to step out of the woods. I understood that feeling better than I wanted to. 

“You don’t sleep much either,” I said quietly. 

He didn’t look at me, “No.” 

I nodded once. Neither of us felt the need to explain. 

“Morning!” Glenn’s voice broke through the morning. 

Daryl sighed before either of us even turned around. Glenn crossed the yard with a grin already on his face. Neither of us answered immediately. I kept running the whetstone along the broadhead. Daryl kept working the string of his crossbow between his fingers.

Glenn looked between us, smile fading, “I didn’t realize…” He trailed off.

I finally looked up, “What?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.” Another pause. “I just didn’t expect to find you two sitting here together,” Glenn explained.

“We ain’t together,” Daryl didn’t even look up when he said it. He continued to toy with his crossbow. 

“We’re outside,” I offered, rolling my eyes at Daryl. 

Glenn blinked. “…Right.”

Silence settled again. It lasted just long enough for Glenn to become uncomfortable. “So…” Glenn rocked back on his heels. “How’re you both feeling?”

“My leg still works,” I said smiling. 

Daryl shrugged, “Still breathin’.”

Glenn nodded slowly, “I’ll… take that as good.”

Neither of us corrected him. The breeze stirred across the porch. Finally Glenn smiled awkwardly, “Anyway… Maggie was looking for me.”

Neither of us responded. He started backing toward the steps. 

“I’ll just…” He pointed vaguely toward the yard. “…go do that.”

“Mm.” Daryl never looked up.

Glenn chuckled quietly to himself, “You two are… something.” He disappeared back into the yard. 

Silence settled over the porch once more.I reached for another arrow.

After a moment, Daryl spoke. “…He talks a lot.”

I nodded, smiling once again to myself, “He does.”

—

The sun had climbed high enough to chase the morning chill away. Hershel had eventually decided sharpening arrows counted as “light duty,” which meant I hadn’t been yelled at for doing it. Instead I’d drifted between little tasks that didn’t require walking much. 

I helped Beth shake dust from quilts. Held a board steady while Patricia repaired a loose hinge. Sorted dried herbs Hershel insisted had gotten mixed together. Busy work. Enough to keep my hands occupied.

Not enough to quiet my mind.

But, the odd part wasn’t the work.

It was Glenn.

Every time I caught sight of him, he looked like he wanted to say something. Then he’d think better of it. He nearly walked into the well while staring off toward the barn. Forgot the bucket he’d been carrying. Answered Maggie three different times with “What?” before realizing she’d only asked him once. Something was chewing on him.

Eventually I found him standing beside the water pump, pumping far more water than any bucket needed.

“You planning on flooding the farm?” I asked.

Glenn jumped. “Oh—” He looked down at the overflowing bucket. “…Guess not.”

I folded my arms, “You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I have not.”

“You almost watered the dirt.”

“…That was one time.”

“You’ve walked past me four times.”

“I did?”

“Glenn.”

He sighed. “I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” I said, shaking my head at him and raising an eyebrow.

Silence. He looked toward the barn. Then toward the house. Then back at me.

“I probably shouldn’t…”

“You probably shouldn’t what?”

He hesitated another second before lowering his voice. “Look, please just stay out of it.” 

“I’ll stay out of it when you quit acting like… that.” I said, motioning to the overflowing bucket of water he carried. 

“Okay fine, but no one else knows yet,” Glenn set the bucket down and came closer. “There are walkers in the barn.” He halfway blurted, halfway whispered. 

I stared at Glenn, who must have hit his head on something. “…What?”

“Walkers. In the barn.” He said, taking another step closer.

“They’re alive?” I said, lowering my voice.

“No!” Glenn quickly corrected. “Well…” He grimaced. “I mean…They’re dead. But they’re walking.” He rubbed at the back of his head, sweating as the afternoon sun hit him. “They’re just…in there.”

My stomach fell flat, and I blinked,“…Why?”

Glenn opens his mouth, then closes it. “I don’t actually know.” Another beat passes between us. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody.”

“You told the wrong person then.” I mumbled. 

“I know.” Glenn sighs before looking at at me again, “And Lori’s pregnant.”

Silence. I didn’t know my stomach could fall even flatter. I turned my gaze toward him again, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. 

“…You got another secret you’d like to throw in while we’re here?” I joked.

Glenn looked horrified. “…I wasn’t supposed to tell you that either.”

Silence settled between us.

My mind refused to fit the pieces together. The barn. The fences. The cattle. Carol hanging laundry. Carl running through the yard. Beth singing while she worked.

Walkers. In the barn.

I’d spent months sleeping in trees because one walker could kill you if you got careless.

But, Hershel was… keeping them.

I looked toward the barn. Suddenly it didn’t look like a barn anymore.

It looked like a cage.

“I have to go.” I said, looking back toward Glenn.

“What?” Glenn blinked.

“I need to talk to Hershel.” I said, turning on my heel.

I left Glenn standing beside the pump. I don’t remember deciding to walk. One moment I was staring at the barn. The next, my boots were carrying me across the yard. 

Someone called good afternoon as I passed. I don't think I answered. 

My eyes stayed fixed somewhere ahead, but I wasn’t really seeing the farm anymore. I was seeing Hershel kneeling beside my leg, carefully cutting away the filthy bandage while I bit down on every curse I knew.

“You’re lucky.”

I remembered him threading the needle through torn skin. 

“Antibiotics don’t work in a day.”

His voice had been patient when mine hadn’t.

“Pride’s a useful thing. Until it starts making decisions for you.”

I remembered him standing in the pasture with one hand resting against the mare’s neck convincing me to stay another day.

“One more day isn’t overstaying.”

The memory tightened something in my chest. 

I’d believed him.  Not just because he’d stitched me back together. Because he’d been… kind. To a stranger who showed up bleeding on his farm. He was steady. The sort of man who still looked people in the eye when he spoke. The sort of man who shared his table with a stranger. The sort of man I’d started measuring everyone else against.

Walkers. 

In his barn.

The thought refused to fit. Maybe Glenn had misunderstood. Maybe there was another explanation. 

There had to be. 

I barely noticed Maggie leading a horse toward the paddock until it crossed in front of me. She offered a smile that I answered too late, my feet never slowing. The farmhouse faced behind me. The smell of hay grew stronger. Leather, horse, oil. 

I rounded the corner of the stable and finally found him. Hershel sat on a low still beneath the overhand, a length of worm brindle leather stretched across his knee. His fingers worked patiently as he threaded a fresh buckle into the strap, every movement slow and practiced, like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

He looked up as my shadow crossed the ground. A warm smile found his face. 

“How’s that leg today?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. 

For just a second, I saw the man who had patched me up after I'd stumbled onto his farm bleeding and exhausted. 

Then I saw the barn. 

“I need to ask you something.” 

“You can ask,” his smile faded just enough to notice.

“Is it true?” I swallowed. 

He tilted his head, “Depends on what you’re askin’.”

I looked past him. The barn stood beyond the stable. Quiet. Ordinary. 

“...There are biters in your barn.”

It was silent, other than my own heart hammering in my chest. 

Then, Hershel nodded, “Yes.” 

One word. That was all it took. Something inside me dropped. 

“...Why?” I stared at him.

“They’re sick.” He answered simply. 

“No.” The answer left my mouth before I could stop it. “They’re dead.”

“They’re sick,” he repeated, calmer this time. “One day there’ll be a cure.”

“Hershel…” I felt myself shake my head. 

“They’re people.” He said, raising his voice slightly. 

“They were.” My own voice followed. 

“They still are.” He said with finality. 

“They’re trying to eat you.” I said firmly, but quietly. 

He shook his head at me, “They don’t know what they’re doing.” 

I motioned toward the barn with my arms, losing patience, “They don’t know anything!”

His jaw tightened, “They’re my wife.” The words stole mine. He looked toward the barn. “My neighbors. My friends.” His voice lowered, “They deserve patience.” 

I looked in the same direction. The barn suddenly felt enormous.

“I know what it’s like to lose somebody.” My brother’s face flashed through my mind before I could stop it. “I do. If he’d…” The words caught in my throat. “If he’d turned…” I forced myself to finish anyway. “...that wouldn’t have been him anymore.” 

Hershel looked back at me, “No. It would’ve.” His voice hardened. “You’ve decided death ends a person.”

“It does,” I stated.

“You don’t know that.” Hershel shook his head again. 

“I’ve seen it.” I tried to reason. “They’re killing people.”

“They’re sick.” He bit back.

“They’re killing people.” I repeated. 

“They deserve compassion.” His eyes moved from mine to the barn. 

I let my voice soften again, “Hershel, they deserve peace.”

The words hung between us. Neither of us moved. 

“I thought you might understand.” He said, quietly.

“I wanted to.” I sighed. 

“I’ve watched you survive.” His eyes drifted toward the woods beyond the pasture. “I’ve watched you hunt. Skin animals. Live off this land.” He looked back at me. “I thought maybe you’d understand that life isn’t always as simple as what appears dead.” 

“It is when it’s trying to kill you.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended. 

His jaw tightened, “They’re not animals.”

“They’re not people!” I exclaimed. 

“They’re my family.” He huffed. 

I shook my head, “They were.” 

Silence settled between us. The breeze stirred the leather straps hanging from the stable wall. 

Finally, Hershel sighed, “I was hoping you’d see this place differently.”

I frowned, “I do. I think this place is worth protecting.”

“So do I,” he said simply. 

“Then why are you protecting the things that’ll destroy it?” 

For the first time, Hershel looked angry. Not loud or explosive, just deeply, quietly angry.

“You’ve already made up your mind,” said Hershel. 

I took a deep breath, “I have.” 

“So have I.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The air around us felt tense even though there was a constant fresh breeze.

Finally, he said, “If that’s truly what you believe…” His voice softened again, “...then you can’t stay here.” 

I blinked, “What?” 

“This is my farm.” He didn’t say it cruelly, just plainly. “I won’t have someone on my property who believes my family should be put down.” 

My stomach tightened, “I wasn’t talking about your family.”

“You were.” His answer came immediately. “You just don’t see it.” 

I opened my mouth to argue, but he just raised a hand. Another long silence passed, then he continued. 

“The people traveling with Deputy Grimes…” He chose his words carefully. “...they won’t be here forever.” 

I frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“They came looking for a little girl. They’ll leave once that search is finished.” 

The words didn’t make sense at first. “They’re… leaving?”

“They always were.”  He nodded. 

I just stared at him. Nobody had ever said that. Not Rick, not Glenn, not Dale. Not anyone. I’d simply assumed. The camp, the porch, the laughter at dinner. Glenn asking endless questions, Carl following me around the pasture, Daryl sitting beside me that morning in complete silence. 

I’d somehow let myself believe this was becoming… normal. 

But of course, it was temporary. Every bit of it. 

“And if you see the world the way you do…” Hershel’s voice pulled me back. “...you should leave with them.”

I looked toward the farmhouse. It suddenly felt farther away than it had a minute ago.

“I wasn’t planning on staying.” I said quietly, almost to myself. But, the words sounded empty. 

Hershel gave one slow nod, “I imagine that’s for the best.” 

I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice anymore. 

Somewhere behind me, a horse stamped against the packed earth inside the stable. Life on the farm carried on as though nothing had changed. 

But something had. 

The woods beyond the pasture waited where they’d always been. Yesterday I would’ve disappeared into them without thinking. Today, I couldn’t make myself stand up. 

I just hadn’t realized how much of myself I’d already left here. 

— 

I didn’t remember walking away from the stable. One minute Hershel was standing in front of me. The next, I was beneath the oak again. 

The afternoon sun filtered through its branches, dappling the ground where I’d slept the past few nights. My bedroll still rested against the trunk exactly where I’d left it that morning. My pack leaned beside it. Bow within reach.

Nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

I stood there for a long moment before crouching. My fingers found the edge of the bedroll automatically. Fold. Roll. Pull it tight.

The motions came easier than breathing. I’d packed camp more mornings than I could count. Roll it tight enough and it wouldn’t unravel on the trail. Cinch the straps. Sling it over a shoulder. Walk.

Always walk.

The roll was halfway finished before I stopped. My hands stayed where they were. I stared at the worn canvas.

“…Where am I going?”

The question slipped out before I realized I’d spoken.

West? That had always been the answer. 

Go west. Keep moving.

Don’t stay long enough to lose anybody else.

My grip loosened.

Rick’s group would leave when they found Sophia. Or when they gave up.

That was always the plan. Mine too.

So why… Why did packing feel different now?

I looked toward the farmhouse.

Beth was laughing about something near the clothesline. Carl chased a chicken across the yard until Lori called him back. Glenn carried another bucket toward the well, pretending nothing weighed on his mind. Somewhere on the porch, I caught the faint scrape of stone against steel. Daryl. Probably sharpening bolts because Hershel had told him to rest.

I looked back down at the bedroll. Slowly…I unwound it. The canvas unfurled across the grass again.

I smoothed a wrinkle from it with the palm of my hand.

“…Not yet.” 

Whether I was talking to the bedroll or myself… I couldn’t have said.

I leaned back against the trunk of the oak.

For the first time since I’d arrived on the farm…I didn’t know what came next. 

---

Part V - The Way Back

Paring: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: What begins as a quiet return to the woods takes an unexpected turn when a familiar face needs saving. The journey home pushes old injuries past their limits, and just when safety seems within reach, everything goes sideways. In the aftermath, exhaustion, fear, and a few words left hanging in the silence linger long after the dust settles.

Word Count: 3150

Warnings: Blood, injury, graphic violence, medical treatment, accidental gunfire, concussion/head injury, canon-typical violence.

A/N: This is going to end up being a AO3 sized series I swear. Writing this has been so much fun and I can't WAIT to continue this story further!!

Previous Part - Masterlist - Next Part

---

The forest smelled different after rain, even if it was a light one. Leaves held onto being damp, the earth softened beneath my boots, and every fallen log seemed to wear a coat of bright green moss. Somewhere high above, a woodpecker hammered away at a dead tree while squirrels argued over breakfast. The world had settled back into its rhythm. 

So had I.

A day and a half away from the farm and my own tracks had already begun to replace theirs. I knelt beside a snare tucked beneath a cluster of mountain laurel. Empty. The loop of wire hung exactly where I’d left it. Nothing had disturbed it except a curious rabbit that had thought better of investigating. 

I reset the trigger anyway. Habits kept me alive. 

I pushed myself upright, my thigh pulling in protest. 

The wound still ached, but it wasn’t the hot angry pain it had been three days ago. Hershel’s antibiotics were doing their job. The swelling had gone down enough that I could bend my leg without gritting my teeth every time. The anti-inflammatory helped even more. Didn’t mean I was running marathons. 

I crouched again beside a fallen oak and peeled back the corner of the bandage just enough to inspect the wound. No fresh blood. No yellow drainage. No angry red lines creeping away from the cut. 

I pressed the bandage back into place and stood, rolling my shoulders beneath the weight of my pack.

Another day, maybe two. Then I’d be able to forget I’d ever been stupid enough to let a biter get that close.

A breeze drifted through the canopy. I stopped walking. The wind was in my face. Perfect. I slipped my bow from my shoulder without thinking. Fresh tracks crossed the game trail ahead. Two deer. Does. Only a few hours old.

Their hooves had pressed clean crescents into the damp earth, and one had brushed its shoulder against the bark of a young cedar, leaving a few coarse hairs behind. I smiled to myself. 

“Morning,” the word disappeared into the trees. No one answered. I didn’t expect anyone to. 

I followed the trail slowly, careful where I placed my boots. A snapped fern. A bent stem of a blackberry. Fresh droppings. Easy enough to follow. The woods had rules. Everything left a story if you knew how to read it. People would stomp through the forest, animals flowed through them. I’d always preferred the animals. The thought made me laugh quietly to myself. 

Glenn would’ve had something to say about that. Probably enough for both of us. The smile faded before I realized it had been there.

I checked two more snares before noon that were along the game trail. One empty. One holding a gray squirrel that hadn’t suffered long. I murmured an apology anyways. Old habits. The squirrel disappeared into my pack after I reset the snare. Dinner. The woods kept giving if you remembered to give something back. 

Then, I heard it before I saw it. Hoofbeats. Fast, too fast. Every bird in the canopy exploded into flight at once. I frowned and pinched my brows. Wild horses didn’t wear shoes. This one did. 

The chestnut burst between the trees in a panic, the saddle bouncing wildly against its flanks. I stepped aside as it thundered past, but it never slowed. 

My eyes caught the familiar leather saddle. The reins were dragging. A blanket, the tack. Recognition hit me a second later.

“Hershel?” I half asked the wind. 

My stomach dropped as the horse disappeared through the trees. Without a rider.

I stared after it for only a heartbeat before turning toward the churned earth it had left behind. There was only one reason a horse came home alone. I adjusted my pack, tightened my grip on my bow, and started following the trail back the way it had come. 

— 

The horse had left an easy trail to follow. Fresh hoofprints gouged deep into the damp earth, curving through patches of fallen leaves. Branches hung broken where something much larger than a deer had forced its way through. Here and there, clumps of chestnut hair clung to blackberry thorns.

It hadn’t been running for long. I kept my pace steady, bow in one hand, the other brushing low branches aside as I moved.

The trail changed. The horseprints grew uneven. One set dug harder into the ground than the other. Something had spooked it. I crouched beside one print. Fresh. Still holding moisture around the edges.

I stood again, “Come on,” I spoke out loud to myself. 

Moving in circles, eyes staying grounded, I noticed it. The edge of a ravine, swiped clean of any leaves. Something, someone, had fallen there. The churned dirt said so. I moved quickly to the edge.

There were fresh scraps on a rock below, a broken sapling bent nearly in half. There was blood. Not much, just a few dark drops drying on a flat rock. My stomach tightened. 

“Hello?!” I called over the steep edge. 

There was nothing in response. Only the wind. I huffed a sigh and took a step back from the edge. Then, a rock clattered somewhere below. I moved quickly, and quietly to the edge again. 

Another sound, a grunt. 

Relief hit so suddenly I almost laughed. “There you are,” I half said to myself. 

Daryl was wedged against the base of a tree, halfway down the ravine, one hand gripping an exposed root while the other clutched something against his side. His face was streaked with dirt and dried blood. One eye was swelling shut.

He looked up when loose gravel rolled beneath my boot.

“...You?” He said, gritting his teeth. 

“I was hoping for somebody prettier.” I muttered. 

He huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. Or a cough. 

“Just stay there, let me get something down to you.” I said, moving again. I took the pack off of my back. I pulled what cordage I had with me out. It was thin, but strong.

I turned and found a tree above the ravine and tied one end around it, giving it a good tug to make sure it would hold. Then, I turned back to Daryl and threw him the other end. 

It landed unceremoniously at his feet.

“Tie it around your waist! That way if you slip, it'll still catch you!” I said, while wrapping some of the top end around my hands, getting ready to pull. 

Daryl did his best to follow my instructions, but he was already faint in his movements and on the edge of a very steep incline. Slowly, he got himself ready.

“Okay! Now I need you to start climbing, I’ll help drag you up!” I called down to him. 

I planted my feet, thigh burning, and pulled. Daryl was heavy, and I could tell he was exhausted. 

My foot slipped, and with it Daryl went loose. I gritted my teeth, finding another foot hold before the cord went tight again.

“You good down there!?” I called, not being able to see him from where I sat now. 

“Dandy!” He weakly called out. 

Slowly, so slowly, he moved up. I was sweating, my hands burning from holding the cordage. He was close to the top now, close enough I could reach him. I looked to my side, finding a large fallen log with a thick branch sticking from it. With some exertion, I moved the cordage from my hands and wrapped it tightly around the branch. Now, if he fell, he wouldn’t be losing so much ground. 

I laid myself flat in the dirt in front of the ravine, reaching my hand toward him. He looked at it for a second before locking his forearm around mine. I tightened my grip. 

“Ready?” I asked. 

He just nodded in response. With that, I pulled and pulled until he came up over the edge.

He collapsed in the dirt. I followed a second later, rolling onto my back, lungs burning.

He coughed, “I found somethin’.”

I sat up and looked, taking him in. He was bleeding from his side, a shirt tied over it, and he was bruised and scraped from head to toe. He held up a small, mud-covered doll. 

Sophia’s.

His grip tightened around it like it was proof he’s been right to keep searching. 

“I found her doll,” he huffed, still catching his breath. 

I moved towards him, my leg aching now from the strain of hauling half his weight up the ravine. I gathered the cordage from around the tree and him. I looked at the doll for exactly one second before kneeling back down beside him. 

“I don’t care,” I said. 

His eyebrows knit together.

“I mean I don’t care right now,” I explained, reaching for his arm, “Tell Rick later.” I looked down at the blood soaking through the shirt tied to him. “Right now you’re bleeding.”

“...Hell,” he said as he followed my gaze. 

“You hit your head?” I asked, pulling him to his feet. 

“Think so,” he grimaced while standing. 

“You black out?” I moved to strap my bow onto my pack. 

“...Maybe.” 

I sighed through my nose, “Great.”

“What?” He shot back, looking down at me.

“Means you’re probably concussed.” I said as I slipped my pack over my shoulders. 

“I ain’t,” he winced.

“You just answered ‘maybe’ when I asked if you lost consciousness,” I stated simply, moving to his side. 

He was taller than me, but I still placed his arms over my shoulders. Mirroring how he had helped me walk into Hershel’s just days before. 

“What are you doing?” He grunted. 

“Getting you back to the damn farm.”

Daryl leaned more weight onto me than he’s probably admit to if he were conscious enough to care. We started toward the trees. Behind us, the ravine swallowed the silence again. 

— 

The woods slowly began to thin around us. The underbrush gave way to patches of tall grass, sunlight spilling freely between the trunks. I recognized the bend on the creek before I ever saw the water, then the split oak that leaned just enough to look ready to fall every time I passed it. 

“We’re close,” I said, more to myself than Daryl. 

He didn’t answer. 

His arm hung heavily across my shoulders, his weight pressing harder against me with every step. His boots dragged through the leaves now instead of lifting over them. The occasional grunt was the only sign he was still awake. 

I adjusted my grip beneath his arm. 

“Hey,” I nudged him gently. “Stay with me.” 

“Mm awake,” he moaned quietly.

“Barely,” I huffed. 

“Hush.”

I smiled despite myself. The trees opened completely. 

Pasture stretched out before us, the tall grass rolling gently in the afternoon breeze. Beyond it sat Hershel’s farmhouse, bright against the Georgia sky. The barn. The fences. The windmill turned lazily overhead. 

For the first time since leaving, I let myself breathe. 

Beside me, Daryl lifted his head just enough to squint towards the house. We stepped through the treeline together. My left boot landed awkwardly. Warmth spread across my sock. I frowned and looked down.

Dark blood had soaked through the bandage, trailing down my leg and into my boot. Somewhere hauling Daryl out of the ravine or carrying him back, I must’ve torn something open again. 

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. 

The leg answered with a sharp throb that nearly buckled my knee. Not now. I shifted Daryl’s weight higher across my shoulders and kept walking.

A little farther. Just a little. Movement caught my eye near the barn. Someone had seen us. A figure stopped, pointed. Another turned. Within seconds the entire farm seemed to come alive. Doors flew open, people spilled from the porch. 

I could just make out Rick breaking into a run, Shane close behind him. 

Relief flooded through me so suddenly my shoulders sagged. 

“They see us,” I said.

Daryl didn’t answer. 

Then, the crack of a rifle shattered the afternoon. 

Daryl immediately sagged from my side completely. He half took me down and I half pulled him down into the long grass. 

Again, a crack, and dirt exploded less than a foot from my right boot. 

Instinct took over. I shoved Daryl behind me as much as I could manage, twisting to shield him with my own body while my bow came halfway off my back before I even realized I was reaching for it. 

A scream cut across the field, “DON’T SHOOT!” It took a heartbeat to realize the voice was mine. 

Across the pasture, Andrea stood near the RV, rifle still shouldered, her face pale with panic.

“It’s Daryl!” someone shouted. 

“No!” another voice yelled toward Andrea. “Stop!” 

Andrea lowered the rifle so fast it nearly slipped from her hands. 

Rick and Shane were already halfway across the pasture.

“Daryl!” Rick shouted. 

Rick reached us first, Shane only a step behind him. I turned toward Daryl now.

“He fell,” I said quickly, my words tumbling over each other. “Down a ravine. Hit his head hard. His own arrow got lodged into his side. He’s been fading in and out ever since.” 

Rick nodded, already looking him over. 

Then I saw it. 

My heart was already pounding in my chest, but I swear it stopped, for just a moment. A fresh streak of blood ran from the side of his head, tracing along his temple and into his hair line. 

Everything in me went cold. My fingers tightened into a fist so hard my knuckles hurt. All I could hear was my own heartbeat.  

I grabbed his shoulder before I realized I’d even moved. My eyes didn’t leave the blood.

“No, no…” My voice came out quieter now. “You got hit…”

My stomach lurched. For one horrible second, all I could think was that he’d made it through the woods, through the ravine, only to die twenty yards from the farm. 

Rick caught my wrist gently. 

“Hey,” he said.

I looked at him, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s only a graze.” He explained. 

I blinked, “What?”

“The bullet barely touched him.” Rick carefully turned Daryl’s head just enough for me to see. “Looks worse than it is.”

I stared another second, breaths still coming in hard and fast. 

The wound was shallow, angry, bleeding far more than it deserved to. Not a hole. Just a graze. The air rushed back into my lungs.

“Jesus Christ,” my hand slid away from Daryl’s shoulder. “I thought…”

“I know,” Rick said quietly. Then his eyes dropped to my leg. His expression changed immediately. He said my name quietly.

“What?” I snapped quickly, frowning. 

He looked pointedly towards my leg. I followed his gaze. Blood had soaked through the bandage, down my pant leg, and into my boot.

I continued to breathe heavily, urgency still in my skin.

“You need to get inside.” Rick said.

“He needs to get inside,” I said, wincing as I hauled myself up.

“Both of you-” he started.

“Damn it, Rick!” I snapped, cutting him off, louder than I’d intended. “Look at him!” I pointed to Daryl. “He fell down a ravine, he’s been bleeding all damn day, and now he’s been shot!” My lungs were burning again, my face hot. “My leg can wait!” 

Rick opened his mouth again. I cut him off. 

“Move your ass!” The yard went quiet. “Quit arguing with me and get him to Hershel.” My voice shook now, equal parts frustration and exhaustion. “I’m not the one who just got shot.”

Rick looked from Daryl’s battered face to the blood soaking into my boot. He held my gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded. 

“You brought Daryl back.”

I swallowed and gave a tired nod, “So get him inside.” 

Rick gave one sharp nod. He didn’t argue again, “Shane.”

“One hell of a way to come home.” Shane mutters.

Together they hauled him toward the house. 

— 

Rick and Shane disappeared into the farmhouse with Daryl between them. The yard buzzed with voices, everyone talking over each other, but they all blurred together. I started after them, slower now, every step sending another pulse of pain through my thigh.

I barely made it ten yards before Glenn came bounding over.

“Woah,” he said, slipping an arm around my waist before I could protest. “Easy.”

“I’m fine,” I said stubbornly through gritted teeth.

He looked down at my leg, “You keep saying that.” 

“I keep meaning it.”

He laughed once through his nose, “Come on.”

Before I knew it, he was helping me through the front door. The farmhouse had dissolved into organized chaos. Patricia was already laying clean towels across the kitchen table while Maggie cleared space beside them. Rick and Shane had eased Daryl down as Hershel immediately went to work, cutting away the makeshift bandage around his side.

I lingered in the doorway, Glenn leaving me there. 

I was close enough to see, far enough to not be in the way. 

Hershel didn’t even look up, “You reopened it.”

I blinked, the adrenaline finally wavering, “What?” 

“Your leg.” Blood had dried almost black down the side of my jeans. 

“I’ll deal with it later.” I said quietly. 

“You’ll deal with it now.”

“I’m fine.”

Hershel finally looked at me, “Come inside.”

I took a step back instead, “I just wanted to make sure-”

“I wasn’t asking.” He said with finality. 

The room went quiet for half a second. Glenn smiled to himself.

“...Yes, sir,” I muttered. 

— 

The last knot pulled tight. 

“There,” Hershel snipped the thread before sitting back. “That should hold.”

I looked down at the fresh line of stitches crossing my thigh. 

“This time,” he continued, “I need you to actually let it heal.”

I sighed.

“I mean it.” He said, placing down his instruments. 

“I heard you the first time.” I said quietly, mostly to myself. 

“I’m not convinced.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, “I’ll try.”

Hershel studied me for another second before nodding once, “I’ll settle for that.” He stood gathering his supplies.

When he left the room, I sat there for another moment pushing myself carefully to my feet. The hallway was quiet now. Most of the panic had passed. 

Daryl lay in one of the bedrooms, propped against a pillow, his head and side freshly bandaged. For the first time since I’d found him in the ravine, he looked alive. 

His eyes drifted toward me as I stopped in the doorway.

Neither of us spoke. 

I looked him over anyway, making sure his breathing was steady, that he was awake, that Hershel hadn’t suddenly come rushing back in.  

Satisfied, I started to turn. 

“You didn’t have to come lookin’ for me,” his voice was rough, barely above a murmur. 

I stopped. For a moment, I just stood there with my back to him, “I know.”

---

Part IV - The Fence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: What was meant to be one last day at the farm turns into something unexpectedly peaceful. Quiet conversations and simple work begin to chip away at old walls, offering a glimpse of what belonging could feel like. But when danger strikes, survival instincts collide with the comfort that's only just begun to take root, leaving everything changed.

Word Count: 2987

Warnings: walker violence, blood, injury, medical treatment, emotional hurt/comfort, grief, loneliness, confrontation

A/N: Writing this has been so so much fun! There isn't much Daryl in this chapter, I'm sorry, but I'm STICKING to that slow burn theme. Also, the canon events of season two are going to be moved around a little bit, but we're getting there I promise!

Previous Part - Masterlist - Next Part

---

Light was still early in the sky. I stood from my place near the large oak tree I had found sleep under after dinner was finished. I stretched and gathered my hair away from my face. 

The dinner had gone well after dark. Glenn had talked enough for three people, Beth had smiled more than she’d spoken, and Carol had insisted I take seconds despite my protests. Someone had laughed at one of Dale’s stories. Carl had asked me enough questions about hunting that Lori finally told him to let me eat. 

Nobody asked me to earn my place at the table. Nobody had asked me to leave either. It had been strange. 

I wasn’t used to eating where no one watched to make sure I wasn’t taking too much. Or where people assumed I’d still be there tomorrow. I’d almost forgotten food could be eaten slowly. The thought lingered as dawn broke across the pasture. 

I rolled my bedroll tight, checked the fresh bandage around my thigh, and packed my things before most of the farm had even woken. I intended to be gone before anyone woke up to convince me otherwise. 

I made my way across the pasture, the morning air smelled clean. I needed to head back to where I had crossed that buck, to see if there were any more tracks. Deer are herd animals, where there was one, there are more. My name being called stopped me in my tracks.

“You’re leavin’.” Hershel was already out with the horses.

I sighed and turned towards him, “I wasn’t trying to sneak.”

“I know.” Hershel stated simply as he continued to brush down the mare. 

“I appreciate what you did.” I swallowed towards him. 

“I know.” He repeated himself. 

“...But I’m going.” I readjusted the straps on my shoulders. 

“I know.” He continued his work. 

I nodded once and turned back toward the tree line.  

“How far you think you’re gettin’ on that leg?” He interrupted me again. 

“I’m walking on it.” I said turning towards him.

“For now.” Hershel looked at me now. I didn’t say anything to him, beginning to chew on my lips. 

“Hershel, I really appreciate your concern, I do, but I’m going.” I turned on my heel.

“If it opens back up, you'll lose everything we accomplished yesterday.” Hershel was persistent, but I stopped again, listening, “I gave you antibiotics. They don’t work in a day. They barely work in three.” 

I nodded, turning towards him once more, “I don’t like overstaying.”

“One more day isn’t over staying.” He said with finality. I continued to chew on my lips, unease creeping up my spine. I looked down towards his feet before his voice continued, “Pride’s a useful thing. Until it starts making decisions for you.” 

I looked toward the treeline, then back to the horses. I hate that he’s right.

“I don’t belong here.” I shrugged, making eye contact once again. 

“I didn’t say you did, I said your leg needs another day.” Hershel said with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

I stared toward the woods. Those trees had kept me alive. They’d also nearly killed me. I let out a long breath through my nose.

“One day.”

— 

The morning sun climbed higher by the time I settled beneath the shade of the oak again. Hershel had been right. My leg still protested if I stood too long, so sitting seemed like the smarter fight to lose. 

The buck’s hide lay stretched across the grass in front of me, flesh side up. I anchored one end beneath my boot and dragged the edge of my knife carefully along the inside, peeling away the last stubborn pieces of fat and membrane. It wasn’t glamorous work, but if I wanted the hide to last, it had to be done right. 

A shadow fell over the edge of the hide. 

“What are ya doin’?” 

I glanced up. 

Beth stood a few yards away with a wicker basket balanced against her hip, damp clothes piled inside. A clothesline stretched between two trees behind her, already dancing in the breeze. 

“Ruining my knife,” I answered looking back down to my work. 

Her eyes dropped to the hide, widening just a little, “...You’re skinning it again?”

I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth tugging upwards, “Cleaning it.”

She stepped a little closer, careful not to crowd me, “I thought you already did that.”

“I cleaned the meat off yesterday.” I said as I scraped another long strip free, “This part’s for the hide.” 

Beth watched for a moment, genuinely interested. “So… what happens after that?”

“You actually rub the animal's brains onto the-” I started, but Beth cut me off.

“It’s brains!?” She exclaimed. 

I huffed a laugh, “Yes, the brains can actually tan the hide, but waiting for it to tan is the longest part.” 

She lowered the laundry basket beside the clothesline and began pinning shirts one at a time. 

“So what does it become?” She asked.

I shrugged in response, “Depends on what you need.” I gestured to the hide, “Gloves, blanket, bedroll, shoes, a bag.”

Beth looked back over her shoulder, “You can make all that?”

“I’ve made most of it.”

Beth smiled to herself, “I can’t imagine knowing how.”

I scraped another stubborn strip loose before answering, “Turns out people knew how to live long before grocery stores.”

Beth laughed quietly, “I suppose that’s true.” 

Silence settled comfortably between us, broken only by cloth snapping in the breeze and the rhythmic scrape of my knife against the hide. 

After a while, she asked, “Where’d you learn?”

I paused and I felt a pang in my chest, “My brother.” I stated simply, not looking up.

Beth nodded thoughtfully as she hung another towel. 

“Do you miss it?” She asked. 

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I looked past the pasture toward the distant tree line. 

“Every day.” 

She clipped another shirt to the line before speaking again.

“I miss Georgia.”

I pinched my brows and frowned, “You are in Georgia.”

A small smile crossed her face, “I know.” She looked around the farm, towards the barn, “I miss the Georgia from before.” 

I understood exactly what she meant. Before. Before fences meant safety. Before every unfamiliar sound made your heart race. Before every meal felt borrowed. 

“...Yeah,” I said quietly, “I know what you mean.” 

Neither of us spoke for a while after that. The wind carried the smell of fresh laundry across the grass. Birds chattered somewhere near the tree line. 

For just a few minutes, the world almost forgot to be ending. 

— 

The hide had been stretched between wood stakes beneath the oak, left to dry while the morning sun did its work. There wasn’t much more I could do with it today. 

I settled onto the grass with one of the buck bones between my knees. A smaller knife rested comfortably in my hand as I began shaving thin curls of bone away.

Bone was stubborn. It didn’t split like wood. It had to be convinced. 

A familiar pair of shoes stopped beside me. 

“So…” Glenn said. I didn’t bother looking up at him. “The spoon?”

“The spoon.” I stated, letting a small smirk cross my lips. 

He laughed and powered himself into the grass nearby, “I honestly thought you were kidding.”

“I usually am.” I laughed back, scrapping my knife along the bone. 

Glenn continued to watch. The breeze shifted. Tall grass rolled in slow waves around us, carrying away the smell of the cattle and replacing it with pine, damp earth, and summer leaves. 

Eventually Glenn spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded in response.

“How’d you do it? Survive? Alone?” 

I kept carving, “I knew how.” 

“That’s it?” He said pulling grass from the earth.

I shrugged in response.

“I mean…” He hesitated before asking, “...the sleeping alone part?”

I paused. There was a time when I wasn’t sleeping alone. I felt another pang in my chest before shaking my head and looking up to him. “I didn’t sleep much.”

Glenn frowned, “Seriously?” 

“I learned what sounds mattered.” I placed my sight back to whittling the spoon. 

“What do you mean?” Glenn leaned forward, intrigued. 

“Listen,” I said without looking up. There were birds, the breeze, cows, voices coming from across the property. But then, the birds stopped. 

“What am I listening for?” Glenn questioned after our moment of silence. 

“The birds.” I pushed my knife forward. 

“...They’re just birds.” Glenn stated, confused. 

“They stopped.” I turned toward the tree line. 

Glenn looked around the property, “I didn't notice.” 

“I know.” I said quietly. 

A few seconds later, the bird began to sing again. I smiled faintly and looked up to him, “Now you’re safe.” 

I spent some time again with Glenn. He asked, I answered. I asked, he answered. This was becoming a familiar game between us. Before long, I had his spoon carved. After I inspected it, and was satisfied, I handed it over to him.

Glenn took it in his hands and turned it over. He smiled. 

“You really didn’t have to.” 

I shrugged, “I said I would if I got bored enough. Here I am.” 

He chuckled, “I’m really that boring? Come on.” 

“I was working on it before you came over here, alright.” I sat back on my hands. “It still needs heat fixed, okay?”

“Heat fixed?” Glenn looked at me with confusion on his face. 

“You need to put it over low heat, for a long time, until it’s fully dried out. If you heat it too hot too fast, it’ll become brittle and break.” 

“Okay… Thanks,” he smiled, bouncing the spoon on the palm of his hand. He looked down before speaking again. “You’re going to head west?” He asked simply, plainly. 

“Yeah,” I said, chewing my lip, “If the roads ever stop trying to kill me.”

“You think they ever will?” 

I paused before I answered, “Don’t know.” I swallowed, “Guess I’ll find out.” 

— 

Light was starting to fade around the farm. Still I sat, near my newly claimed oak tree, fiddling with whatever I could. Cordage was next. Deer sinew when dried out properly can be strung and braided into very strong cord. So, I took all the sinew I mustered off my buck and began to hang it unceremoniously on Beth’s clothes line.

That’s when I noticed it. The breeze eased up. But there was no more bird song coming from the tree line. The cattle were quiet, not making their typical calls to each other. I lifted my head and grabbed my bow, while pawing at my side piece with my free hand, a habit I’d created through all these months. A shiver crept up my spine. The cattle were pinning their ears and gathering around each other. Herd animals on defense. 

I pinched my brows together and moved slowly towards the pasture. I heard them before I saw them. Biters. 

There was a weak point in the pastures fence, around ten of the dead were pushing on. With that many dead pushing on the fence, it wasn’t going to keep. Before I realized what I was doing, instinct came over me. I was running. Adrenaline hit me and my leg, while sore, was able to bear my weight. 

If the dead got to those cattle, these people would be losing months worth of food and resources. So I started yelling.

“Hey! Over here!” I waved my arm towards the biters, trying to get their attention. My breath came over me hard and fast now. It was working. Their attention was no longer on the livestock, but on me. “That’s right!” I continued, “Living, breathing, human flesh right here!” 

I nocked an arrow into my bow and lined up my sight. With a quick breath out I released it. Bullseye. The biter went down. But it was just one out of many. My heart rate picked up now, I backed up and they followed forward. 

Again, I repeated the motion of knocking an arrow and letting it fly. Down goes another. 

The attention of the camp was grabbed at this point. I heard yelling behind me, but I wasn’t taking my eyes off the threat. 

They were only ten yards away at this point, and gaining on me. I continued to fire my arrows at them, bringing down another two. 

As I took a step back on what was supposed to be grass, my foot slipped on a log. I went down. I gasped as I came down on my injured leg, fire again racing down it. I could feel it opening up, feel the blood trickling out. Instinctively my hand came down to my injury as I bit my tongue from crying out. 

Reminding myself of my situation I let my hand leave my thigh and placed it on the ground, to support me as I tried to stand. But the twang of another stringed weapon was loud in my ear before I had the chance. I looked up to see Daryl. He had just taken another one down. He reached his arm out to me. I nodded my thanks to him and grabbed onto his forearm. He hauled me up as I stood. 

Rick and Shane were there now, but with hand guns. 

“Stop!” I yelled before they could shoot. They looked at me like I was crazy. “Wanna draw more here? Then go ahead and shoot!” Dumbasses! 

Daryl continued taking them down alongside me. Sweat dripped down my face and I began to shake. Baring weight on my leg was becoming increasingly painful. But, between us, they were dispatched before they had gotten much further. 

My breath came hard as I took in the scene. Bodies lay scattered across the trail, all with arrows sticking out of their heads. 

It made me sick. Not so much the scene as the thought. The thought of these people being lost to the dead. The thought of going through that loss. 

I exhaled and dropped my bow. I placed my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. I could hear the people gathering around me, then one charging at me. I lifted myself up to see Shane charging toward me.

“What the hell was that?!” Shane exclaimed while shoving me hard enough to make me stumble. 

I caught myself on my good leg and shoved his hands off of me, “That was me saving this farm’s fucking cattle! That’s what that was!”

Rick and Daryl moved fast trying to get between us, but Shane and I brushed them off. 

“Sorry I didn’t want you alerting the whole god damned forest of biters to where we are with your firing shots!” I was red in the face, so was he. 

“You ran toward ten walkers on one damn leg!” Shane fires.

“Nobody else was moving! Those things were about to get into the pasture!” I bit. 

“You don’t get to make decisions for this farm!” Shane's hand was in my face, pointing. He was gritting his teeth. 

I bared my teeth, “Neither do you.”

The group was complete now. Everyone gathered in one spot, taking in the scene of the dead, of the argument. 

“I’ve been keeping these people alive since Atlanta.” The volume in his voice came down, but not the intensity. 

“Then start acting like it.” I spit. 

He laughed, without humor, “You think you’re smarter than everybody because you lived in the woods by yourself?” 

I stepped back from him, “No.” Frowning, I continued, “I think I don’t fire guns fifty yards from where I sleep.” 

It went silent among the group. Even Shane was just left huffing and puffing. 

“She’s right,” Daryl’s voice spoke up. 

Shane turned on Daryl, “You stay outta this.” 

Daryl just shrugged at Shane, “Ain’t my fault she’s got more sense.” 

Shane was red in the face. The group was quiet again. No one knew what to say or where to look. 

Shane once again got in my face, but I didn’t back down. 

“You ain’t one of us.” He bit out, inches from my face. 

I curled my lip, but nodded, “You’re right.” 

A beat passed. 

“Which is why I’m leaving.” 

“Good.” Shane bit out. 

Rick grabbed Shane from behind, pulling him away, “Shane!” 

I shook my head, looked at the group. They looked shocked, afraid even. 

I turned before anyone else could say another word. My leg screamed with every step back toward the oak. I’d been right the first time. One day became long enough. 

I grabbed my pack and looked toward my tanning hide. It would never be finished now. Neither would the spoon if Glenn burned it too hot. Neither would the cord drying on Beth’s clothesline. 

I limped toward the bodies littering the ground, grabbing each of my arrows. That’s when I heard more footsteps following me. 

“You don’t have to leave because of him.” Rick. 

“I’m not.” I said quietly while placing the arrow into its quiver.

“You’d have people watching your back here.” Rick tried to reason.

“That’s exactly why I have to go.” I reasoned back.

He huffed, “You get used to the people.” 

“And then one day, they’re gone.” It came out breathy and sad.

Rick looked desperate, maybe even sad, but I wasn’t staying any longer. 

I found Daryl’s eye over Rick's shoulder. He didn’t tell me to stay. Didn’t try to stop me. He just gave me a small nod, like he understood. Somehow that was harder than if he'd asked me to stay. I gave him a small smile and nodded back before turning my heel and limping toward the tree line. 

The trees swallowed me one step at a time. Behind me, voices slowly faded back into conversation. A gate creaked shut. Then there was only wind. The forest welcomed me back without a word.

---

Part III - The Outsider

Paring: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: As wounds begin to heal, unfamiliar faces become a little less like strangers. Between quiet conversations and unexpected kindness, the hardest thing to face might not be the road ahead—but the thought of staying.

Word Count: 2174

Warnings: Mild language, injury recovery, non-graphic medical treatment, deer butchery/food processing, post-apocalyptic survival themes.

A/N: My favorite chapter so far!! I hope you enjoy it, and as always, I love any and all feedback!

Previous Part - Masterlist - Next Part

---

Hershel had set me up with anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and a few things to help me keep my bandage fresh. The medicine and a freshly cleaned wound were already making a difference. While still limping, I was managing to walk on my own just fine.

Hershel had given me permission to build a fire, and continue to process the buck on his property. Smoking small stips would be the best way to keep the animal preserved. I stepped out onto the porch, where my items were still laid. Everything was accounted for.   

The day was cooling off now, the sun making its way towards the horizon, but we’d still have a few hours of light yet. For a moment I simply stood on the porch. I adjusted my new belt and pants, afforded to me by Maggie after Hershel had cut my other ones up. I pulled my pack to my shoulders, moving slowly so as to not reinjure myself.  

Voices drifted from around the house. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the years of hunting have trained my ears to notice things before they noticed me. 

The voices belonged to Rick and Shane. I recognized them immediately. 

“...just saying we don’t know a damn thing about her,” Shane was saying. 

“She brought food, Shane. And a lot of it.” Rick bartered. 

“Yeah.” Shane stated. 

“She traded for medicine,” Rick continued.

“Yeah,” Shane’s voice grew sharper, “And she’s still a stranger.” 

Silence followed his statement. 

“She could’ve taken off with that deer,” Rick said, “But she didn’t.”

“Could be because she wants something,” Shane ranted. 

“Of course she wanted something, she needed help. First aid. And she got it Shane. Nothing else needs to come of this.” Rick offered. 

“Daryl says he found her alone in the woods carrying a compound bow and a damn glock.” Shane reiterated. 

My jaw tightened and my pulse thrummed alive again. 

“She survived this long by herself. That tells me something,” Rick answered before Shane did. “It tells me she’s capable.”

“It tells me she’s dangerous.” Shane bit back. 

Silence stretched between them before Rick spoke again. “Those aren't always different things.” 

For a second, I almost smiled. Almost. 

Shane wasn't finished, “We’ve got Lori, Carl, and everybody else sleepin’ here.”

My stomach tightened. There was it, real concern. He didn’t care about food or medicine. He cared about his people. 

“We’ve got enough problems already,” Shane continued, “Now we’re just bringing random people in?”

“Nobody’s bringing her in.” Rick stated. 

“She’s still here!” Shane flung his arm towards the house, raising his voice.

“She is gettin’ medical treatment.”

Shane scoffed, “And after that?”

Rick took a moment to answer. I found myself listening harder than I had intended. 

“Then, it’s gonna be her choice.” Rick let out. 

“That’s not a damn answer man!” Shane was beyond frustrated now. He lowered his voice, “Can you trust her?” 

Rick considered it, “I don’t know.” He said while shaking his head. At least he was honest. I thought. Rick continued, “But I trust Daryl.”  

I blinked. That answer surprised me. Apparently, it surprised Shane too. 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he quipped. 

“It means Daryl spent half a day with her in the woods.” Rick’s voice remained calm. “If he thought she was a threat, she’d never have made it to this farm.”  

The conversation went quiet, and I swallowed. Little do they know during that half a day trek I made with Daryl we hardly spoke to one another. Just spoke long enough to get the understanding that he had a group that could use the food and that I was alone. But, Daryl still hadn’t exactly seemed thrilled to meet me. Yet, somehow, he’d vouched for me without saying a word. 

A floorboard creaked beneath my boot. Both men turned instantly. 

I was caught. 

Awesome.

Shane’s eyes narrowed at me as I stepped fully into view. 

“Don’t mind me,” neither man seemed convinced, “I was just going.” The words came out a little colder than I’d intended.

Rick’s expression softened immediately, Shane’s didn’t. For a moment nobody spoke. I hitched my pack further onto my back, making it more comfortable. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” I said, looking directly at Shane, “I’m not too sure about you people either.”

Behind me, another familiar voice answered, “See?” Daryl was leaning against the railing, arms crossed. Nobody had noticed him. Not even me. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Told ya she wasn’t an idiot.” 

Shane looked genuinely annoyed. 

And for the first time all day, I found myself smiling. 

— 

Like Hershel had approved of, I found myself stripping the venison further. Hanging it over a low fire that had lots of moisture in it to create as much smoke as possible. Smoking the meat gave it the best chance of preservation. It also gave me something to focus on, a task.

Maggie had already approached me, asking for some raw meat that her and her sister, Beth, could make a stew for everyone tonight. Of course, I cut her a sizable chunk right out of the hind quarter. 

Footsteps crunched through the grass behind me. I didn’t bother to look up.

“If you’re Shane,” I said, sliding another strip onto the hanging rack, “I’m fresh out of reassuring answers.”

The footsteps stopped, “I’m Glenn.”

I looked over my shoulder, it was the Asian man from earlier, “Oh.”

“I wasn’t… I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxiously. “I just wanted to see what you were doing.” 

I nodded towards the smoking rack, “Trying not to waste dinner.” 

Glenn stepped a little closer, keeping enough distance that it didn’t feel threatening. 

“So, this works?” He questioned curiously. 

“It’ll keep.” I said.

“For how long?” he asked. 

“It depends.” I said, setting down my blade. 

“On?” 

“The weather, the smoke, the bugs, moisture.” I adjusted one of the strips, “But, if you do it right? Weeks.”

His eyebrows climbed, “Seriously?”

I shrugged at his surprise, “I’ve lived off of worse.” 

Glenn watched me work another minute before asking, “So…” I waited, “...How’d you end up way out here?”

I almost laughed, “Bad timing, the world ended.” 

He also chuckled, “Fair.” 

A comfortable silence settled between us. Glenn had decided to help me make strips to smoke. He continued to ask the occasional question and I’d give him the answer. For a while it was almost like I was back home, back being a guide. 

I’d follow up by asking him about his group, trying to learn all their names. I learned that the woman with short gray hair, who looked so hungry, was Carol. Her little girl was missing. Lori and Carl were Rick’s family. Shane and Rick had been cops before the world fell apart. Andrea had just lost her sister. Dale practically lived inside the RV, and Glenn insisted that T-Dog was the kind of man you’d want to have your back. The more Glenn talked, the less they sounded like strangers.

When we worked our way down to the femur bone of the buck he asked, “What do you do with the rest of it? The parts you can’t eat?”

“You can make needles, fish hooks, soup, or tools just out of the bones,” I answered. 

“...Seriously?” 

“Hell, if I got bored enough, I’d carve you a spoon out of it.” I smiled beside myself. 

“Okay, that’s actually kinda awesome.” He chuckled. Then Glenn looked over my shoulder and grinned, “Uh oh.”

I frowned at him and pinched my brows together, “What?”

“Think your supervisor’s here.” He chuckled to himself, looking back to stripping the meat.

I turned. Daryl stood a few yards away with his crossbow slung over one shoulder and another armful of firewood balanced against his hip. 

“I ain’t supervisin’.” He huffed as he came closer, dropping the wood next to the fire. 

“...You brought me firewood?” I hesitantly asked. 

“Needed it.” Daryl shrugged. 

Glenn’s name came from far away. Maggie was calling him from the farm house, waving him to come over. Glenn looked between me and the house before he spoke, “Uh, I better go see what she needs… Thanks for showing this to me. It was good to sit with you for a minute.” Glenn rose from his place next to the fire, politely smiled and walked away.

I didn’t say anything, just shot a short smile his way. Continuing my task, I stood to move one of the racks and to place more wood on the fire. My leg had gotten used to the fact I was sitting, and protested heavily to the weight I was bearing on it once again. I tried not to react.

Daryl noticed anyway. 

“Sit down.” Daryl quipped, moving closer.

I didn’t sit back down. I kept working, adjusting the rack over the smoke. Thirty seconds go by before, “You’re limpin’ again.”

“You’re observant.” I state.

“You’re stubborn.” Daryl moved to take one of the completed strips of smoked venison into his mouth. 

“Pot.” I stated, letting a small smile cross my lips.

“Kettle.” He chuffed with a full mouth.

The quiet settled again. I reached for another log, but he’d already beaten me to it. Daryl crouched beside the fire, nudging another piece of wood beneath the rack with the toe of his boot. I shot him an appreciative look, and took my seat again next to the flames.

Time slipped by as finished meat came off and I’d hang fresh strips on. Fire was popping, smoke drifting, my knife scraping, Daryl chewing. When I wasn’t processing the meat, I was feeding the fire, or whittling Glenn his spoon. Daryl was still here, not saying anything, just being. 

Somewhere near the barn someone laughed. I could hear chickens fussing as evening settled over the farm. Daryl stayed where he was, chewing thoughtfully. I kept working. Neither of us seemed bothered by the silence. 

Hershel had left me with baskets I could put their portion of the finished meat in. Once I had collected my own portion, packed it back away into my bag, I started filling the baskets with what was left. 

Then, “You’re leavin’ too much.” Daryl huffed out between bites. 

I didn’t look up at him, “I know.” I stated simply. 

Daryl looked down at me still, confused, “Thought you traded half.”

“I did.”

Silence followed my statement as I continued to place more meat in their baskets than I promised. 

“Why?” Daryl sounded suspicious. 

I just shrugged and looked up at Daryl. “They’re hungry,” I said quietly, thinking of the lady with the short gray hair. 

He looked back at me, “Need that yourself.”

I smiled at him faintly, before looking back to my task, “Enough.” 

Daryl just nodded once, like he understood. It was the first time all day he hadn’t argued with me.

— 

By the time the last strip had been hung and the baskets filled, the sky had gone dark. Daryl was gone, taking the baskets full of dried meat with him. I tied my pack closed and hoisted it onto one shoulder. I pushed dirt onto the remaining embers, seeing to them being fully put out. I left my bow in hand now, not strapped to my pack. I sighed and looked up to the night sky. It was nice being able to see it fully, unlike sleeping under the canopy of trees. To be able to just sit and stare for a minute without the threat of a biter emerging. I missed this. I thought to myself. I had spent so many nights at home, cowboy camping under the stars. 

I was lost in thought when the voice found my ears, “Honey?”

I turned, it was Carol. She stood a few yards away, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She took me in, from my pack to the darkness beyond the pasture, to my still bandaged limb. 

“You’re not really heading back out there tonight, are you?” She spoke with a little concern in her voice. 

I shrugged, “That’s the plan.” 

I was surprised to see a frown appear on her face. “You brought us enough food that everyone gets to eat tonight.” Her eyes drifted to the farmhouse, where voices were filtering from, “You left extra.”

I looked away, “Figured you could use it.”

Carol smiled, not the polite smile she’d worn all afternoon, but a tired, genuine one, “The least we can do is feed you before you go.”

I hesitated, “You don’t own me anything. Hershel already cleaned me up.”

“Maybe we don’t,” Carol said softly, “But I’d really like it if you stayed for dinner.”

I looked towards the tree line. Home. Then back towards the farmhouse. Light spilled through the windows. Laughter drifted through the screen door. I looked back up to the stars again. One night. One warm meal. Then, I’ll leave in the morning.

For the second time that day, I found myself accepting kindness from strangers. 

Somehow, that was scarier than surviving alone.

---

Part II - The Farm

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: A trade for medicine leads to an uneasy introduction with a new group of survivors. As suspicion, stubbornness, and old survival instincts collide, an injury she's been ignoring finally catches up with her, forcing her to trust people she barely knows.

Word Count: 2884

Warnings: Blood, graphic injury, infected wound, medical treatment, pain, tense interactions, survival themes.

A/N: The slow burn is gonna be a sloowww burrnnn folks! (Angsty slow burns are my favorite and I have so many ideas!!) There's plenty more to come now that she's crossed paths with the group. As always, I love to hear your feedback.

Previous Part - Masterlist - Next Part

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Daryl didn’t provide me much information about where I was following him to. I just had to take this stranger at his word that he had good people and a vet who could see to my wound.

When we emerged from the tree line, I saw it. A farm. It wasn’t just a farmhouse. There was laundry swaying from a clothesline, cattle grazing beyond white fencing, smoke coming from a chimney, and a well. But further away there was an RV, tents, and the makings of a camp. 

The closer we got to the small group of people settled around the makeshift camp, the more my heart hammered. It had been months since I’d seen this many people who still breathed.

Both of us packed a quarter of the deer on our shoulders and as much as we could fit into the packs on our backs. The weight pulled at my shoulders and sent another sharp ache through my leg, but I kept walking.  

My limp was noticeable now. I couldn’t hide it with all the weight I was carrying. As we approached, several heads turned toward us. Eight people. Three armed. One kid. Two women hanging back, one in the fray. One crossbow at my side. Their conversations stopped. Two men quickly stood, making their way over to us. Suddenly, I was feeling trapped, wondering if I had made the right decision or if I was about to get myself killed. 

“Holy shit,” an Asian man said at the sight of the meat on our backs, also standing. It actually made me take a breath of relief that that’s what he noticed first and not the limping stranger in their camp. “That thing is huge!”

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” A tall, dark and short haired man said while pointing towards me, pushing himself into my space. I froze. Months of instinct overcame me. Count people. Count weapons. Count exits. 

“Can it, Shane.” Daryl drawled, lowering the temperature immediately. But that didn’t make Shane take his hand off of his pistol. If anything, the grip by his side grew tighter. I still didn’t trust Daryl, but he’d done exactly what he’d said he’d do. That counted for something.

There were so many of them. So many voices murmuring, so many faces showing so many different emotions. So many of them moving too close. 

A man with brown hair with the makings of a short beard quickly got between myself and Shane. 

“Easy.” He quickly said, putting a hand onto Shane’s chest. 

“Who’s she?” Shane asked frustratedly. 

“Found her huntin’,” Daryl said. Christ.

“Well I ain’t exactly excited about strangers walkin’ onto Hershel’s farm.” Shane glared at Daryl, pushing the other man’s hand off of his chest. 

My eyes wandered between Daryl, Shane, and the third man trying to keep the peace. I lowered the quarter off my shoulders and placed my hands on the straps of my pack, trying to stay neutral. 

“Good thing I wasn’t askin.’” Daryl spat. The tension snapped tight. 

The third man stepped between them before it could get worse. He turned to me then and offered his hand. “Rick Grimes.”

I hesitated and pulled my brows together. I reached my blood stained hand towards his, and shook it. “Nice to meet you.” I stated, along with my name.

Rick nodded towards the deer, “Did you get that all by yourself?”

“Mostly,” I said, placing my hands back on the straps of my pack.

“Mostly?” He questioned. 

I glanced towards Daryl, “He watched.” 

Daryl snorted and looked away. The younger Asian man grinned. A gray-haired woman with tired eyes stared at the deer like she hadn’t seen that much meat in months.

Daryl looked back and spoke, “She ain’t here for food.” Everyone’s eyes gathered. “She needs medical supplies.” 

At that, their attention shifted back. Great. Now everyone knows I’m hurt.

“What happened?” Inquired Rick. 

“It’s my leg.” I exhaled, looking towards it, and back at him.

“Bit?” Shane barked at me. 

“No.” Shane didn’t relax, but several shoulders did. Someone behind Rick let out a breath.

Shane still looked like he wanted to argue. Daryl beat him to it, “Traded meat for medicine.”

The weight of their stares settled further on to the deer that had been set down. I shifted my stance, trying to ignore the way my left leg was trembling under me. It’s just your nerves. Nerves and a long hike with weight on your back. I told myself. But, I knew it wasn’t anymore. It wasn’t pain anymore. It was becoming something deeper, hotter. Thicker. Like it was settling in under my skin instead of just sitting on it. 

I swallowed hard. Now is not the time for this shit. I’m surrounded by strangers.

Daryl noticed first. Of course he did.

His eyes flickered down for half a second, then back up to Rick. “She ain’t gonna make it far if she don’t get it cleaned.” 

I scoffed, so did Shane. 

“And you’re suddenly a doctor now?” Shane continued, still unhappy. 

“I know what a fuckin’ infection looks like,” Daryl shot back. 

That did it. The air tightened again, like the whole group was one wrong word away from snapping. 

I felt hot. My heart continued to hammer as I adjusted my grip on the straps of my pack, forcing my weight more evenly. It didn’t work. My leg buckled slightly anyway. Just enough. 

Just enough for Rick’s eyes to catch it. 

His expression changed, subtle, but immediate. Less suspicion. More assessment. 

“Hey-” he started. 

“I’m fine,” I cut automatically. But it came out wrong. It was too sharp, too strained. And worse, too late.

The world tilted slightly as the pain flared, sudden and white-hot, racing up my thigh like something has just been poured under my skin. My breath caught before I could stop it.

I tried to force it back down, but it didn’t work. My vision tightened at the edges for half a second. 

Someone moved closer.

Instinct snapped through me. My hand went halfway toward my holster before I even thought about it. 

“Don’t” I warned, gritting my teeth. 

No one stopped moving though, not until a voice cut through everything. It wasn’t Rick. It wasn’t Shane. It wasn’t even Daryl. 

It came from behind the group, calm, firm, and completely unbothered by the tension. The man who stepped forward didn’t look like he belonged in the argument at all. He was an old man, but grounded. Watching everything the way someone watches a patient instead of a standoff. His eyes went straight to my leg. Not my weapon, not the deer, but to my injury. 

“Hershel,” Rick said quickly, almost like an apology and an introduction at the same time. 

The man, Hershel, didn’t look at him.

“Put your pack down,” Hershel said simply. 

I hesitated. It’s not that I didn’t want to, but because my leg chose that exact moment to give out properly. The straps bit into my shoulders as my weight shifted wrong, and suddenly I wasn’t standing. 

Someone caught me before I hit the ground. His grip was strong. His reflexes fast. He smelled like sweat, the forest, and the long gone remnants of cigarette smoke. Daryl. Of course it was him.

He grunted, more annoyed than concerned, like it offended him that I couldn’t stay upright. 

I shoved against him immediately. “I said I’m-”

“Yeah, I heard ya,” he snapped. “And you’re still fallin’ over.”

Bitch. I wanted to bite out, but I knew I couldn’t. He was right. I grimaced at the movement, still trying to remain composed, but I was shaking. 

Hershel was already walking closer, like he was certain. Like he’d done this before a million times over. Like it didn’t matter that I was armed, or angry, or surrounded. His eyes dropped to my leg again. Up close now, I felt it too, the heat of it. The tightness under my skin, the wrongness I’d been ignoring for too long. 

“You’ve been walking on that?” he asked simply. I looked past him, towards the farm house. 

“I’ve been surviving on it,” I gritted out. 

Hershel paused then. It wasn’t judgement, but recognition I think. Then, he nodded once. “Set her down inside,” he told Daryl, pointing towards the home. 

“I ain’t-” I started. 

“You are,” Hershel interrupted, still calm. “Unless you prefer to lose the leg entirely.”

That got me to stop arguing. Not because I trusted him, but because I understood that tone. I came here for help. I made a trade. Why can’t I just accept it? I battled with myself mentally. 

Daryl huffed like he agreed, which somehow irritated me more than if he’d argued. 

He shifted his grip on me, putting my arm on his shoulders so he could support me. “Don’t make it weird,” he muttered, like I was the problem in this situation. 

“I’m not making anything weird,” I hissed back as we limped further along. 

“You’re getting blood on me,” he said flatly. 

I looked down. I hadn’t even noticed the blood spreading through the fabric of my pants, leaking onto his where our legs were side by side. That silence lasted a second too long. 

I heard Rick speak as we walked away, addressing his group, “She’s not a threat.” Hearing that made me want to cringe. “We’ll let Hershel have a look at it.” 

I turned my head back to them, still continuing our slow pace towards the house. Shane looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t get the chance. 

The first step we took up the porch was agony. The pain hit so hard my breath left me completely. Everything went sharp, too bright, too loud. The porch came towards me fast. But Daryl had me, he gripped me harder, almost too hard, like he was mad. He hauled me back up to my feet and I let out an involuntary groan.

Hershel didn’t react to the sound, he just stepped closer.

“Inside,” he repeated, firmer this time, final. 

Daryl adjusted his grip again without waiting for permission.

“I can walk,” I tried again automatically, though my voice came out thinner than I meant it to. 

Daryl gave a short, humorless breath. “Yeah. Real convincin’.”

He moved the pack off of my back and onto the porch. My bow was strapped to it all. Leaving it there made me hesitate moving further inside, but I still had my sidearm on my hip. And I didn’t have much of a choice anymore for Daryl half carrying me. 

The home’s door opened before anyone else could argue. Warm air spilled out, carrying the smell of wood polish, old fabric, and something faintly medicinal. A space that had been long lived in. Hershel stepped aside and held the door. No theatrics or hesitation. 

“Table,” he said, pointing. 

Daryl helped move me inside. The moment my weight shifted fully through the doorway, my leg flared alive again, sharp enough that my vision stuttered. My fingers clamped instinctively into Daryl’s shirt without thinking. 

“Easy,” he said quieter this time, his eyebrows were pinched together and he scowled. I immediately let go of his shirt. My pride betrayed me as I felt a blush creep its way onto my cheeks. 

It was short lived though. Once on the table, wood pressed hard against my back. The air bit at the sweat on my skin. The sudden stillness made everything louder, the blood in my ears, my own uneven breathing, the distant murmur of voices outside of the house. 

“Boot off,” Hershel said simply. 

“I can do it,” I snapped, immediately sitting up and reaching down. But, I barely touched the leather before my leg seized so violently I sucked a breath in and froze. Daryl took a step closer, “I said I can do it!” I snapped towards him. 

His arms rose in the air, and he let a huff out with a shake of his head. I let my gaze follow him as he left through the exact door we came through. 

“Daddy?” The words barely registered, it was a new voice, a women’s voice. She stepped inside. She was beautiful, with short brown hair. Her accent matched everyone else’s with her southern drawl. 

“Maggie,” Hershel said without looking up. 

She moved further in, eyes flicking from Hershel’s hands to my leg, then quickly away again like she didn’t want to stare but couldn’t help understanding what she was looking at. 

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“It’s a wound that has gotten infected,” Hershel replied.

That made her expression tighten immediately. Her brows pinched and her lips pursed. She stepped closer, slower now, careful not to crowd. I shifted instinctively anyway. 

“Hey,” she said gently, noticing it, “I’m not gonna touch ya.”

It caught me off guard. Just being told I wasn’t about to be handled like an object.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, because apparently my mouth had stopped offering anything else. I moved for my boot again, removing it, successfully this time. 

“Yeah,” She swallowed, “You keep sayin’ you’re fine.”

“Because I am.” I snapped.

“You nearly fainted.” She bit back.

But I already looked away from her. Hershel began working. He cut the fabric away with steady hands. Maggie stayed nearby, not interfering, just being present.

Hershel didn’t speak for a while.  He worked in silence, the kind that wasn’t empty but focused and controlled. Like every movement had a reason behind it. 

The air shifted as the fabric was cut further away. Cold hit skin that hadn’t been exposed in too long. I sucked in a breath through my teeth before I could stop. Maggie noticed. 

“Hey,” She said softly again, like she was trying not to startle something already on edge. “You’re alright, just breathe.”

“I am breathing,” I muttered between clenched teeth. 

Hershel leaned in closer, and his expression changed in a way that wasn’t dramatic, just heavier. 

“That’s been there a while,” he said. 

“Yeah,” I said, a little sharper than I meant. “I noticed.”

Maggie shifted slightly, glancing between us. “How bad is it, Daddy?” 

Hershel didn’t answer immediately, instead, he poured clean water over it. My reaction was instant. My body jerked before I could stop it, breath catching hard in my throat.

“Alright,” he said again, steady hands holding my leg still. His grip didn’t have force behind it, just certainty. “We’ve got to get it clean.” I nodded, forcing myself to settle back onto the palms of my hands, still sitting up, watching. 

Maggie looked away for a second, like she couldn’t decide whether to watch or give me privacy that didn’t really exist anymore. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. 

“You were alone out there?” 

I didn’t answer right away because the truth was sitting too close under my skin with everything else. 

“Yeah,” I said finally. 

Hershel tied off something I didn’t want to think about too closely. 

“You were lucky,” he said, not looking up.

I let out a short, humorless breath. “Yeah, lucky.”

“It’s true,” Maggie said. There was something steadier in her voice now.

“I’m not lucky,” I gritted my teeth as Hershel continued with his treatment. “The world ends while I’m hundreds of miles from home. I don’t know this state, I don’t know these people. If I were just home, I’d consider myself lucky.” 

“Where’s home?” Hershel inquired.

“Out west. Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, Montana, Idaho. I moved all over those states all the time, just following the seasons.” It almost felt good to just speak with another person about something other than survival. “I was a guide.” 

“I was wondering where your accent was from,” Maggie spoke.

“I needed a break from my normal. So, I came to Georgia to get in on the hogs, then ‘lucky me,’ the world goes to shit-” I hissed as Hershel wiped antiseptic over the wound. 

Hershel worked in steady silence for a while longer, only interrupted by the occasional scrape of metal or the soft rustle of bandages. Whatever he was doing, it didn’t feel gentle so much as practiced. It was like pain was something he knew how to negotiate with rather than avoid. 

Maggie stayed close, arms folded loosely, watching me more than the wound now. 

“You said Wyoming?” she asked after a while.

I let out a deep breath through my nose. “Yeah. Mostly Wyoming. Drifted south when winter got bad.”

“That’s a long way from here,” she said.

“Everything’s a long way from here,” I muttered. 

That got a small, quiet hum from her. Something like agreement, but not pity. I could work with that. 

Hershel didn’t look up as he spoke. “You said you were a guide.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Hunting trips, tracking, survival stuff. Before all this, people paid to pretend they knew how to do it.” 

Maggie’s mouth twitched slightly. “And now?” 

“Now they die for it, for free.” 

That earned me a sharper look from her, but not of judgement. More like she was trying to decide if I meant it as a joke or as a fact. 

Hershel tied off a final bandage and finally leaned back slightly. “You were right to trade for medicine.”

“I was right to survive,” I corrected quietly.

---

Taglist:

Part I - The Trade

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Survival has always meant relying on no one but herself. When a chance meeting leaves her with an impossible choice, she'll have to decide whether trusting a stranger is more dangerous than facing the world alone.

Word Count: 1476

Warnings: Blood, injury, infected wound, graphic animal processing, canon-typical violence.

A/N: I haven't written anything in soooo long, but this just felt so RIGHT! While this is going to be a daryl x reader story, I have given the reader a little bit of her own background that will play into the coming parts. Please give all the feedback, good and bad! I'm excited to share this story! There will be more to come!

Masterlist - Next Part

---

Looking down the sight of my bow, I drew until my shoulders burned. The buck lifted its head and I let the arrow fly. 

I inhaled a deep breath. Sweat trickled down my face, exhaustion settling into my bones and my left thigh. I was surrounded by forest. It was lush, green, and loud with bird song. It was warm enough still that I had made it my home. For now.

The buck collapsed before it managed another step. Releasing my breath, I sighed deeply. A buck. I’m going to have more food than I can eat on my own. For once. Slowly, with my bow still in hand, and my sidearm on my right hip, I limped towards my target. I needed to get this deer dressed now, before any biters came through.

Crouching down, my injured leg threatened to buckle. I grimaced, pulled my knife out and got to work. I needed to get this deer quartered before anything else. Meat mattered, and if a biter came through before I could get it properly cleaned, I would have to take off with nothing.

The thought left me as I heard a branch snap. The hair on the back of my neck raised. I had barely made my first cut. I twisted up towards the noise, free hand no longer wielding my knife, but wrapped around my holstered pistol, ready, just in case. I couldn’t see them, but I knew I was being watched. 

“Come on out,” I hesitantly called.

Silence followed. Bird song continued. Then, a man stepped from between the trees. Not a biter. It was a person, which could be just as bad, if not worse than a biter these days. He carried a crossbow, the string looking newer than the rest of the weapon. Dirty clothes. Stringy hair. Scowling. His eyes flickered from me to the deer at my feet. 

“Good kill.” The man said roughly. His eyes flickered to the arrow that made a clean entry wound.

I didn’t remove my hand from my firearm. My thigh ached profusely, but now was not the time to show it. I stared down at him. His boots were old, but the soles hadn’t started peeling. Whoever he was, he took care of his gear.

“You been watchin’ long?” It came out gritty, unused, but strong. 

“Long enough,” he grunted out.

He leaned against a tree, but not relaxed. He still palmed his cross bow. His hands were calloused from steady hard use. 

“Could’ve shot me.” It was a thought I couldn’t help but voice. He had tracked both me and my buck for who knows how long, undetected. It unnerved me. Men were cruel on a good day before the world went to shit, let alone now. 

He took the strap to his cross bow and placed it over his back. Every move he made set me further on edge. Once the weapon was strapped comfortably on him, he let it hang. Hands no longer on the weapon, but crossed in front of him. 

“Could’ve,” he stated simply in his drawl. 

“Didn’t,” I strung out, taken aback at his attitude. 

“Nah,” he simplified. 

The man's gaze then set on my bow pressed in the grass near my buck. That bow has followed me through my life even before the outbreak. It was a compound bow, a quiver mounted onto it with my remaining arrows. 

“You huntin’ with that thing?” He questioned. 

My eyes narrowed at him, still suspicious. If he so much as thinks he can get a hand on my bow. I readjusted my weight, trying to play it off as well as I could with the constant thrum moving down my left leg. 

“What gave it away? The arrow sticking outta the deer?” I quipped. 

A corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. 

The silence between us stretched. I didn’t lower my guard, and he didn’t move from his spot on the tree. Finally, he nodded toward the buck. 

“Big deer.”

“Big enough,” I huffed back at him. 

“Too much meat for one person.” There it was. I’d been waiting for it. The ask. He continued on, “Ain’t eaten good in a while. Gettin’ sick of squirrels.” 

“My problem because?” I questioned. My mind started racing. I tried my best to keep my composure, to continue to regulate my breathing so he wouldn’t notice my internal panic, or my outside injury. I couldn’t hold up in a fight with this man if it came down to it. Not in this state. The gash on my thigh was angry, weeping, and only getting worse. If he wanted this damn deer, then why doesn’t he just take it? I thought frustratedly. 

“Ain’t saying it is.” He shifted his weight off of the tree. That’s when his eyes dropped briefly to my left leg. I felt my stomach tighten. I thought I had hidden it pretty well. Apparently not well enough. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” I swallowed. 

“Bullshit,” he nodded. 

I looked away first. A mistake, because he caught it immediately. Again, he folded his arms in front of him. The sleeves were ripped from his shirt, leaving his muscled arms on display. 

“Been favorin’ that leg since you stood up.”

Fuck. “Real sharp eyes you got.” I kept my face cold as my boot shifted in the leaves, trying to break the anxiety that was collecting in my chest. 

His expression didn’t change,”Gettin’ infected?” 

That surprised me. 

“Now, how would you know that?” My lip curled as I spoke. Losing patience with the stranger. 

“Your tracks were uneven, and kept gettin’ worse the longer I followed ya,” he explained. 

For a moment, we just stared at each other again. No one spoke. The woods surrounding us suddenly seemed very quiet. Even the soft wind stopped rustling the leaves on the surrounding trees.

“Maybe,” I finally murmured. 

“‘Maybe’ means yes.” He stated. 

I stared down at my buck again. Sighing, I came to a conclusion. He would’ve hurt me by now if he was going to. I reached again for my knife. The man tensed when he saw the glint of metal, but I turned fully away from him. Crouching down again to my deer, I began to carve its hind quarter off. Once again, his eyes stayed on me. Following each movement I made. Even through the constant throbbing ripping down my lower half, it gave me goosebumps. Having someone's eyes on me.

“You can have part of it.” I stated, popping the head of the femur from the deer's hip. 

He looked at me with surprise and stated, “Ain’t given’ charity.”

“Good,” I said with blood-coated hands. I moved my eyes from my task and back to him, “Because neither am I.”

“What do you want?” He was smarter than he looked. 

“Medicine, antibiotics.” I swiped at the moisture collecting on my forehead with my forearm, trying, and failing, to avoid spreading the animal’s blood. 

“Medicine’s hard to come by.” 

“So is venison.” 

A beat passed. Then another. Finally, he jerked his head toward the meat.

“You trustin’ strangers now?” He almost sounded disappointed. 

“No.” I furrowed my brows. But what choice did I have? If I can’t walk, then I can’t hunt, and if I can’t hunt, I die. That’s all if a biter didn’t catch me first. 

“Then why offer?” Now he was suspicious.

Again, I hesitated. The throbbing in my leg answering for itself. I was running out of options, out of time.

“Because if this gets any worse,” I said quietly, “I won’t be able to hunt.”

He looked at me for a long moment. Measuring. Calculating. He nodded once and said, “Might know somebody.”

My heart jumped at his answer. I’d managed the wound myself for weeks.

“A doctor?” I breathed hopefully.

“Veterinarian.” He grunted. 

Despite myself, I let out a breathy laugh, “That’s not exactly reassuring.” I shook my head. 

“Kept a kid alive after he got shot.” His face was still stone. He made his way closer to me. “You comin’ or not?”

I looked up at him with my bloody hands still on the deer's hindquarter. I let my gaze travel to his crossbow, back to my deer, then to my injured leg that was protesting as I squatted.

Trusting strangers was stupid. But dying alone was worse. 

“What’s your name?” I asked looking back up at him. 

“Daryl.” 

I nodded slowly. Speaking my name quietly back to him.

“Watch my back while I process this,” I started, breathy and wondering if I was making a terrible decision, “and I’ll help you get it back to your camp.” 

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the bond she had held tightly to her chest known now by Cassian, she fights for her own life alongside Azriel. 

Word Count: 3,069

Warnings: ANGST, violence, dark themes, self-mutilation?, some fluff

A/N: I’m backkkkkkk anddd I am so grateful for everything you have all said about this little series of mine. It’s something I wanted to start up just for fun and so many of you have left me such kind words about it. I’m planning on this being the last part. I might follow up with a little epilogue of sorts if there is any interest in that! I do have some plans for different one shots I’ll be getting into soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

---

Now

“He’s what?” Cassian went wide eyed. He was covered in dirt and blood. His hair, which was once tucked neatly into a bun, had pieces falling that framed his distressed face.

“You heard me Cass,” I quickly sucked in shakily, not believing I had finally admitted it. Admitted it to fucking Cassian of all people. 

Cassian’s face softened and his eyebrows knit. He slowly started to lean down to check his brother’s injuries when the ground started to shake around us, and a booming noise followed suite. The battlefield was only getting messier. A sense of urgency pricked his face.

“Fuck,” he stood, “It’s Nesta.” He looked between Azriel’s form and my own as I still held the injury, I had delt myself. There was conflict covering his face. He was not able to hide his emotions.

“Go Cass,” I said even though my heart spiked at my own words. A fear, the same fear of being abandoned flooded my chest, overwhelming the aching mating bond that usually held itself there. “She needs help more than we do, now that we’re healing. Go.” I spoke these words even though I was unsure if I was healing fast enough.

“Be safe, keep each other alive. I’ll be back.” Cassian said simply, his face hardening as he stood. He leaped from the ground, his great wings taking him into the sky. Red flashed across the sky as he followed the booming. The ground shook again as he took off.

A groan sounded behind me stopping my heart dead in its tracks.

I turned as quickly as my body could manage without throwing myself back down. My hand found the side of Azriel’s face as he began to stir. I kneeled in front of him and I stroked my thumb down his cheek as the bond in my chest thrummed with anticipation and anxiety.

“Az,” I shakily said his name, “Azriel, please open your eyes.”

He did, slowly, but he opened them. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. A sad smile also crept up my face, as I found his hazel eyes with my own.

“W-what happened?” he swallowed as he tried to sit up further against the tree. Hearing his voice was like a light in this fucked up bloody dark. It was cut short with a wince.

“Stay still, please. You’re a bit worse for wear.” I held back the tears that somehow found their way springing to my eyes. I couldn’t find it in myself to let go of his face as I continued to speak to him, leaving more blood from my ravaged hands upon him. “You were struck down, I saw you falling. I came to help.” I finally tore my hands from his dirt covered face and looked to his abdomen.

It was still bleeding. Why was it still bleeding? The wound had knitted the muscles slowly back together, but his flesh, the skin, was still open, still oozing.

Panic crept back into my being.

“Y/N,” Azriel began as he moved to hold my arm, but I cut him off.

“Your wings are still intact, Az, they are just fine. Your limbs too. It’s only this wound on your abdomen that remains open, and it will shut. You will be just fine.” I was spitting out my words at a rapid pace as I moved my hands from his face to the wound on his abdomen. I was shaking, becoming dizzy once again at the prospect. At the reality that we might not all make it out of this. At the fact his blood was bubbling around my hands. 

“You’re shaking,” he rasped, “and paler than a ghost.” He cried between whines. He moved his head back to the tree, once again leaning on it for support.

“Cassian was just here,” I breathed out, “he was just here, and he’s okay too.” Panic was biting at my tone as I tried to calm myself down.

Azriel had used so much of his strength already in battle. His body couldn’t keep up.

More blood. My mind spat at me.

Azriel had started to teeter again with his consciousness. I could feel it deep within that bond stringing us together. It was loosening, his end was losing.

“Y/N,” his voice came out as a croak, his eyes were closed now. “Promise me something.”

“No, Azriel,” I nearly barked, “Shut up and open your fucking eyes again.” Panic laced my every word, my every breath as I ordered him around.

“Promise me, you’ll keep going. Don’t let this be the end for you. You’re stronger than you know, and this world needs you,” His voice was trailing off now. His lovely, deep voice has become nothing more than a whisper.

“Well, I fucking need you!” I grabbed onto his leathers, not caring about the state of my ruined hands, the tears now pouring down my face. My head made its way to his chest, as his hand rubbed my back. It ever so slowly stopped rubbing and fell.

I gripped onto him tighter. I sobbed into his chest. He was no longer conscious, but I could still hear, feel, his heart beating. Slowing down its rhythm, but still beating.

This would not be the fucking end of him. This would not.

Stifling my tears, I grabbed a dagger sheathed at his thigh and plunged the blade into my own arm. Rage and adrenaline fueled me once again. I was not going to let Azriel leave this world while he was fighting for his family, his court. I was not going to let my mate leave this world before me.

I do not care about the fear, the abandonment, how alone, how pitiful I felt. I cared more for this beautiful male to stay here in this world that needed him, whether he or it needed me or not. 

As the blood surged from my wound, I tilted his head back and opened his mouth. He unconsciously drank.

There had to be a chance. I told myself.

The world began to tip on its axis, and I could no longer hold my arm to his mouth. My body had had enough. From the beatings, lashings, slices, burnings, and fighting. I was drained, in every sense of the world.

My body fell next to Azriel’s. With my last fragment of strength, I reached for Azriel’s hand and interlaced his fingers with my own.

My own consciousness dwindled away, but I could still hear his heart beating.

Good.

---

Before

I crashed through the woods. My bow was attached to my hand as I reached for an arrow that was in the quiver on my back. The air was beginning to grow colder, thicker. A piercing cry once again shattered the air around me. I had no choice but to drop my weapon and cover my ears.

That Gods forsaken noise. They were getting too close for comfort.

The Harpy I had the unfortunate luck of running into trailed me. I don’t know why the creature who typically hunted for valuables followed me of all people. All I had in my possession was my bow, quiver with some arrows, a couple of food rations, and the clothes on my back.

Maybe for sport this time. Awesome.

As soon as I could force my body to endure the cry once more, I scattered for my belongings and ran with all my might. I couldn’t get a sight on this infernal creature, and I’m sure it might take more than a couple of arrows to bring it down.

I just had to make it to the border. To the Night Court. The Court of Nightmares.

Also, awesome. Trading running for my life from a Harpy to a Court that would sense my presence in their walls in no time and also come tracking me down.

The Harpy was the bigger threat right now.

I felt a tug at my lose hair, at my lose clothes as I stumbled over root and rock. The creature was literally nipping at my heals.

The burning feathers of the winged beast, and sharp talons were in arm’s length now. I could feel it.

I made the mistake of looking back, but as I did, I raised my bow above my head. The beast has gnarling teeth that gnashed my way.

I brought my bow down, too close now to make any kind of shot with an arrow. Before my strike could hit the creature, a blast of blue energy passed me and knocked the creature away. It cried as it was demolished, almost incinerating in the rich light.

I scrambled back from it, my ass hitting the ground. What the fuck?

My breath hitched as my gaze locked onto the source of the power rippling through the air.   A towering, winged male stood several feet away, shrouded in an aura of quiet dominance that demanded attention. His dark, leathery wings, flared wide and menacing, cast jagged shadows across the ground, their sheer size and sharp edges enough to make even the bravest falter. 

A scent of mist and ceder floated towards me as he spoke, “Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

“Y-yes.” I choked out.

As he made his way closer to me, I scrambled to my feet. I dusted off my pants as properly as I could.

“What’s your name, girl?” His voice was so low and resonant.

“Y/N,” I again, could barely breath out.

He brought a slight smile to his face, “What brings you to the Night Court, Y/N?”

---

Azriel had brought me to a small village in snow covered mountains where he told me there would be a healer. This was not the behavior I was expecting from any in the Court of Nightmares, let alone who I learned afterwards was the Shadowsinger for the High Lord himself.

I spent many months in that village, surrounded by other travelers, but mostly lesser fae called Illyrians.

I poured drinks in a taven, hunted, and helped in the healing structures. Anything that would help keep my head down as I decided where to head too next.

I had run from Dawn. From a close past that did not need me to return to it. That I wanted anything but to return to.

Azriel showed up to the village months later with another Illyrian, Cassian. There was some kind of accident training, and Cassian had been sent away from their war camp to, “heal on his own.” I had a feeling this Cassian had insighted something he shouldn’t have. He had had a broken nose, ribs, and all the bruises to show for it.

There were more visits like this. I slowly grew closer to the pair, learning of Cassian being a bastard, but a budding warrior. I learned that Azriel was a Shadowsinger who worked closely with the High Lord of Night himself. It wasn’t until I was given the opportunity to work in the healing tent at Windhaven that I met Rhysand. The heir to the Court of Night himself.

---

Now

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the sound of his breathing—steady, deliberate, and too close. My eyes fluttered open to find him sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. Shadows curled lazily around him, flickering like restless spirits.

There was no sign of his injury. It must have been healed or bandaged under his fresh set of leathers. Light bruises littered one side of his face. 

My hands and both arms were covered in wrappings. My head pounded as the light fluttered in my eyes. 

"You're awake," Azriel said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with something I couldn’t quite place. Relief? Anger? Both?

I tried to sit up, but his gaze pinned me down. The intensity in those hazel eyes stole the breath from my lungs. His wings, usually so tightly controlled, flared slightly behind him, a testament to his unrest.

“You fed me your blood.” The accusation was quiet but searing. It jarred me awake.

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “You were dying. There wasn’t time—”

“You should have let me die.” His words were harsh, but the way his hands trembled betrayed him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

My heart hammered in my chest. He knew. Of course, he knew. He’d felt the bond. The bond that I’d been trying to ignore, to run from. I had forced this bond onto him now. I had forced him into this while he was chasing someone else.

“I saved you,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“You bound us,” he said, rising to his feet. He began pacing, his shadows swirling more violently now, but his voice cracked on the next words. “You’re my mate.”

I flinched at the word, and he froze mid-step, his wings half-furled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, quieter now, his tone heavy with something that sounded like betrayal.

“Because I didn’t want to be your burden,” I admitted, clutching the blanket as if it could shield me from the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I—I thought I could run from it.”

His expression softened, and he sank back into the chair, dragging a hand down his face. “A burden?” he repeated, incredulous. “You think you’re a burden to me?”

I looked away, but he wasn’t having it. He leaned forward, cupping my chin gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“You showed me I was a burden when you abandoned me in that camp and took your dear Elain instead. You showed me long before that, when I become an afterthought to you while I was drowning.” At my words, I felt regret ride down the bond.

“You are not a burden,” he said, his voice breaking with conviction. “You are my mate, my equal. You are—” He exhaled sharply, as if the next words cost him something. “You are the reason I’m still breathing. How could you ever think I’d see you as anything less than... everything?”

Tears blurred my vision. “I was scared,” I admitted. “Scared of what it would mean. Of what you’d think of me. We’ve been nothing but friends,” the word sour on my tongue, “for centuries.” 

His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek. “What I think of you?” he murmured, a faint, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’re the bravest, most maddening person I’ve ever met. And I think... I think I was a fool not to see it sooner.”

I let out a shaky laugh, but his expression turned serious again as his hand moved to cover mine.

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t ever risk yourself for me like that. I can’t—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I can’t lose you.”

The bond shimmered between us, a fragile thread tightening into something unbreakable. I felt it now, as if for the first time.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His wings drooped slightly, the tension bleeding out of him as he exhaled. And for the first time, I saw it—the unguarded relief in his eyes. The love.

Azriel pressed his forehead to mine, his voice a broken murmur. “Thank the Cauldron.”

I shut my eyes at the contact. Breathing in his scent. Relief flooded me as I pushed my feelings of love, devotion, towards him through the bond that now did not end in a wall. 

Of course, I had not forgotten the time I had spent in that camp. Had not forgotten all the wrong he had done to me as of late. I wanted to be so angry with him. I wanted to yell and scream and hit him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t when he was tugging at this bond in my chest.

His hand met my chin again, tipping it towards him. My eyes opened and I met his. His beautiful, hazel orbs scanned me. 

“Azriel,” I sniffled, moving to wipe away any remaining tears, “I’d really like for you to kiss me now.” I all but whispered. 

He shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against my jawline, featherlight yet deliberate. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, the bond between us humming with newfound awareness. My heart pounded against my ribs as his thumb traced a gentle path along my cheek, as if memorizing every detail of my face.

“I’ve waited lifetimes for this,” he whispered, his voice rough and raw, barely more than a breath.

Before I could speak, before I could think, his lips captured mine. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like he was afraid I might disappear. But the moment I leaned into him, he deepened it, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer.

His shadows curled around us, cocooning us in a world where only we existed. The kiss was fire and starlight, a melding of every unspoken word, every hidden desire. It was a claim, not of possession, but of belonging—of two souls finally finding their home.

I threaded my fingers into his hair, anchoring myself to him as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss—relief, joy, need, and something infinitely more profound. When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine again, both of us breathing heavily.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice trembling with certainty.

“And you’re mine,” I whispered back, my lips brushing his in a promise.

The bond that had fluttered and beat in my chest exploded. It had gripped onto my heart and forced it to beat. It had shown me what it was like to float on solid ground. To sink into pure bliss and oblivion.

There was time later, to be upset. To work through all the crap. There would be time for me to do all the yelling and screaming I wanted to. To work through if I was going to leave like I had threatened or if I was so weak from one kiss that I didn’t have the stomach to follow up on my threats.

But right now, I have Azriel. And he was all I needed. 

-----

Taglist: (so sorry if I missed anyone!!)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Finally saved, there is nowhere else to turn other than the impending war.

Word Count: 4,666

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: First, I am SO sorry that this took me ages to get together. Second, I am SO grateful for all the amazing feedback and sweet messages I’ve received from everyone. This is a hobby of mine that I love and love to share.  Third, please don’t be mad at me after this.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

---

Before

It had been a long night, full of unsettling dreams. Not that that wasn’t normal. A yawn escaped my lips as I rolled over to the morning light peeking through the curtains, the haze of night still lingering on me. Morning, that meant training. Stretching off the daze and the dreams, I sat up in bed and an herbal smell crossed my senses. With furrowed brows I looked to the nightstand next to my bed.

There sat a steaming cup of tea. Tea? Where the hell would that have come from? I reached for it, pulling it from the nightstand. Under the mug was a folded-up parchment. Placing the mug back down, I reached for the note and unfolded it. Azriel’s neat handwriting adored it.

“No training today. Cass and I are off to meet Eris. Drink up in the meantime. – Azriel.”

A smile spread across my face as I sat the note back down and took the mug into my hands. Blowing some steam away, I brought it to my lips. Peppermint. My favorite. My heart fluttered at the hot drink. Azriel must have caught on that it was always peppermint tea I would drink when staying up to finish work, a book, or whatever it may be.

After a few more sips, I set the mug back down on its place on the nightstand. I picked up the parchment once more and flipped it to the empty side and with a pen adorning my nightstand drawer wrote, “Don’t forget to breathe between brooding sessions. Stay safe out there, Az. – Y/N.”

Settling the parchment back onto the nightstand I knew the house would have it delivered for me. By the time I had reached for another sip, the note was gone.

---

The exchanging of notes had become a normal thing for me and Azriel after the first one I found placed on my nightstand. It was sweet really. They went from anywhere about having a good day, to meeting up later, or even just teasing one another. Teasing one another was my favorite.

Azriel, with his slinking shadows, was always sneaking up on me. Whether that be in the training ring, or in the library. So, I had left a note on his desk for him. Trying to get the house to understand that I wanted to deliver this one myself before it could simply just take it from under my fingers. The house had also grown accustomed to mine and Azriel’s note sharing.

Upon his desk in his room, I left a note that read, “If you keep sneaking up on me, I might have to start carrying a bell for you. -  Y/N.”

Satisfied with leaving it on his desk, I left his room and made for my own. I walked down the hallway, and as I was turning the knob to reach my own room, a hand clasped around my shoulder, “A bell won’t help you, but nice try.” Azriel’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

I swirled around and all but smacked his hand off my shoulder out of instinct. He chuckled at my response. His stupidly beautiful smile was something I still found myself grateful for being able to see. His usually stone-cold appearance would fade away when you knew him well enough. When you knew him the way I do.

“Damnit! How the hell are you that quiet and that fast!” I was smiling now, but still flustered with his surprise appearance. I was just in his bedroom after all. A blush crept up my cheeks at the thought.

“I have shadows in my room at all times, they just whispered to me about a certain someone sneaking around there. Then, they told me what your note said. I couldn’t just pass up on the opportunity to tease you a little.” His voice was warm. Azriel was always warm to me. He lifted his hand to my face and brushed some of the hair that had fallen into it from his surprise, behind my ear.

I’m sure my cheeks burnt bright now, at the touch, but I couldn’t help but just smile and shake my head. I pushed him away playfully and turned to my bedroom to enter.

As I entered, I heard his chuckle dancing in the hallway again and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest as I shut my door.

---

Now

The pain that decorated my body was nothing compared to what was soaring through my hands and my heart. After being rescued I was taken directly to a camp where some of Rhys’ armies were. Instead of being put in the infirmary, they put me in a tent of my own, where Madja could tend to me personally.

I had asked Madja to tell the rest of the Inner Circle to leave me be while healing. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

Madja was there, unwrapping my hands again. It has been a few days since I was saved, but my hands were not healing at the same rate the rest of me did. At the site of my hands, I became nauseous. Fresh, pink skin was covering the back of them, but the palms. The palms were still blistered. Still sloughing off with old skin and trying their best to cover it with the same granulated tissue of the backs of my hands.

“Listen Y/N,” Madja sighed, “I cannot express to you how important it is for you to keep resting. You need to keep these hands bandaged at all times for the foreseeable future. This war is something you may need to take a step back from. You have been through enough.”

I respect Madja, I respect everything she had to say to me, but there was no way. “I can’t simply sit out Madja. Not after what they did to me.” I said back quietly, not letting my gaze meet her’s.

“I was afraid you would say that,” sighed the older female.

“Madja, can I ask you something, personal?” I winced as she applied a balm to the palms of my hands.

“Let me guess, it has to do with that silly Shadowsinger?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but I took the invitation anyways.

“How the hell do I put this behind me? This entire Inner Circle has changed since those Acheron sisters entered it. I want to be able to know my friends, my court, is there for me as I am for them.” The words were getting harder and harder to get out of my mouth, but I ventured on, “They left me there, grabbed Elain, and left me there to die.” Tears started flowing then, “I have known them for centuries, and yet, they still chose her over me.” I was slightly embarrassed at my vulnerability with Madja.

She simply continued to wrap my hands after finishing applying the balm and hummed. She let some silence slip on as she thought of a response.

“Y/N, you are right, you have known them for centuries, and Elain not even a cusping a year. You have to understand that that’s why they left you there. They were under duress, either save her, who does not know how to defend herself, or you, who has proved time and time again you can withstand so much.” Madja looked up into my watery eyes and continued, “They were terrified out of their minds when you were up and missing. Cassian did nothing but blame himself. Azriel sent his shadows to all corners of Prythian searching for you.”

I calmed my crying and was only sniffling now as she went on, “They love you Y/N. Even if their misplaced actions are not great at showing it. They may not deserve it right now but consider finding some forgiveness to show them. They are your family.”

I let her words fumble around my mind as she got up and left the tent. As much I want to forgive, I just couldn’t.

---

Before

I was exhausted, truly exhausted. There was a meeting earlier in the day, about strategizing when it came to getting more information on Hybern. I had offered to become an inside agent. To follow Hybern, become one of his soldiers, and send the information back to the Night Court. Rhysand on the other hand had gawked at my offer, and utterly refused it. He then decided to reprimand me, in front of everyone, on how reckless I had been even suggesting such a thing. It was embarrassing.

My mind had been reeling since. I was no use just sitting around, waiting for shit to hit the fan. I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to do something. I was a warrior to this court, an emissary to Dawn. I was no stupid child, like Rhysand had diminished me to during that meeting.

After a day of sulking and my mind reeling, I needed out of the House of Wind. So, I went to one of my favorite places. It was one Azriel had flown me too once. But, I wanted to be alone. Without him to fly me, I’d have to hike there.

A high hill on the outskirts of the city, where the Sidra had broken off into many little streams and creeks. The hill was plush with fresh beautiful grass and a cool evening breeze made the grass sway. Night had fallen by the time I had made it there, to my favorite spot.

Right on time. I told myself as I laid directly into the grass, looking up into the expanse of stars above. It was here I was usually able to find some solace when my mind would wander. Everyone had their burdens to bear, but this place made it seem a little easier. Everything I loved was slipping away from me, I could feel it. That impending feeling of pure dread.

I tried to push it away as I looked up into the stars.

A few hours had gone by when I heard the beating of wings. I sat up in the grass to see Azriel landing on the same long grass, only a few feet from me. I gave Azriel a half smile as I sat up to meet his eyes.

“I was starting to worry about you.” Azriel sighed, playing with his hair as he walked over to me.

“I just needed to get my mind off everything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Azriel sat down next to me, our knees touching now. “Remember when you brought me here for the first time?” A smile spread across my face for the first time that day.

“Of course I remember it.” Azriel smiled as he reached to take off his jacket. My brows furrowed as he handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I took the jacket from him. His comforting smell immediately filled my nose. Cedar and the night mist itself.

“Please, I can see your goosebumps from here.” He chuckled as I looked myself over. I had hiked up here during the warm of the evening, only sporting shorts and a short-sleeved leather top I usually dedicated to training. I hadn’t paid much attention to the cold that had slithered its way to my skin while I was trying to sort out my mind.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Azriel. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he knew me well. I placed the jacket over my own shoulders and placed my gaze on the sky again.

Azriel had joined me, our knees still touching, his wing behind me now. We looked up into the night sky until dawn neared. We didn’t speak, but Azriel’s presence made everything feel lighter somehow.

---

Now

I had made it clear to Madja that I didn’t want any visitors while I was healing. I knew that that would only last so long. I had just finished getting dressed when I heard my tent flap open. Those were not the light steps of Madja. I looked up to see Azriel entering. His wing cramped in the small space.

“Y/N,” his eyes widened at my appearance. While the bandages on my body were covered with clothing, my hands were wrapped out in the open for him to see and my face still held some of the fading bruises. He winced at the sight of my hands.

I looked down, away from him. I went to work on getting my boots on to the best of my capabilities. “I told Madja I wanted no visitors.” I said coldly, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s been days, I needed to see you. To check on you, myself” Azriel cautiously walked toward me.

I began to fumble with my boots, becoming frustrated at the laces. My healing hands did not have the dexterity they once did, and the bandages were not helping. I began to shake as Azriel’s form got closer. Tears were burning at the back of my eyes. It was evident to both of us that I wasn’t going to get my boots laced up by myself. His stupid, comforting, beautiful scent made its way to me. It was only making me lose whatever composure I was forcing on myself.

“Let me help you,” Azriel all but whispered as he reached to gently grab my hands in his.

My hands.

“Do not touch me.” I breathed out, ripping his closeness away.

He stumbled back, looking shocked. He pulled his wings in closer to himself at my outburst. I could feel him, feel his regret and agony through the bond. Through that annoying, patronizing, tug in the deepest part of my chest.

“Y/N, I care about you, let me help.” His hazel eyes were pleading now. I could almost see a silver rim aligning them. He looked helpless. I hated seeing him this way, it hurt me to know that I was causing such helplessness. But, how could I just let him in? Not after everything.

I all but laughed at his statement, huffing hair out of my face, I met his eyes, “You don’t care about me,” my voice wavered, “you showed me that when you left me there to die.”  I couldn’t help but let my lip quiver.

“Y/N, you have to understand-“ Azriel began to plead, but I would not hear it. I would not silence myself on his account.

“I’ve made my mind up Azriel. If I make it out of this, I’m not going back to the Night Court. I’m leaving.” The statement truly shut him up then. I almost couldn’t believe myself either. But this pain, the pain of knowing I would never be good enough in his eyes. I would never be good enough in the Inner Courts eyes. I had gotten myself taken into Hybern’s clutches, after preaching to Rhysand to let me do more. It was mortifying, I couldn’t even get myself out. I still relied on them even after they left me.

Pathetic.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Y/N?” His face completely fell. His hazel eyes wide, his hair pushed away from his face.

“I do. I can’t stay.” I started to shake my head now, tears finding their way into my face, “You lost me when you left me there. Hell, I fucking lost me in that tent. I lost me.”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t lost anything, please.” Azriel was pleading now, I turned from him. I couldn’t stomach the sight of him on top of his emotions flowing through the bond. “Please, listen to me. I lost it when you were missing. Cassian did too. Even Rhysand.” He took slow steps toward me. “I was ordered into that camp by Rhysand to get Elain, I had no idea that you would be there too.” He swallowed before nervously continuing, “We couldn’t grab you both, it was going to be impossible. I know you, I knew you could handle another day, and then we’d be back to get you, better prepared that time.”

It made sense, really, but it didn’t cut it. “That’s not good enough.” I finally met his eyes again. Mad, this time. “I was strung up. Beaten. Cut up. With no powers whatsoever thanks to their Fae Bane knives. I was dying, and you left me there. So, no Azriel, those words are not good enough.”

He opened his mouth to retort something, but a noise of the tent opening behind him cut him off. Peering over his broad shoulders and wings, Cassian was at the entrance of the tent. He was fully armored, weapons in tow, and concern was etched in all corners of his face.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we have to go. Now. Hybern is moving in.” Cassian was on edge with his words, unknowing of the conversation that was at hand. I hated that seeing him gave me some ounce of relief as well.

With his words, I grabbed for my weapons. A sword, sheathed at my hip, and my bow and quivers strapped to my back. The set that Az had gifted me all that time ago.

Azriel grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, “Madja told you to sit this out.” His eyes now were full of passion, his touch was unmoving, but light. At the contact my heart fluttered again. That bond sung between us, but only I could feel it.

I ripped my arm from his touch, no matter how badly I wanted to give into it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Azriel.”

---

Before

Starfall was always one of my favorite times of the year. To just spend time with my family, to share gifts, drinks, and even dances. It had gotten late, the festivities finally winding down, and everyone going to their rooms.

I wanted a final look off the balcony before fully retiring. The present giving and gifting had gone great, everyone enjoying the gifts that had been gifted. I also loved the pieces of jewelry, the books, and even the apron, that Feyre, had gifted me, knowing how much I like to cook.

The midnight blue gown followed my footsteps out. It truly was beautiful. Backless, long, shimmering, Mor had gotten it for me, and of course dolled me up to go along with it. It wasn’t often that I got this way. Only when we had to take trips to the Hewn City or other Court business to attend to. My hair was curled and draped across my back. Light makeup littered my face as well.

I was leaning against the balcony railing when I heard those tall tale footsteps. I knew that if I was hearing them then he would want me to know he was there. I turned around and met Azriel’s gaze. He was stunning. In an all-black suit, but still sporting his blue syphons. I tried to hold back my blush at his appearance.

He walked towards me, a large, wrapped box in hand. I had already given Azriel his gift. I wrapped a leather journal, and a custom-made dagger, with a necklace that had Ramiel engraved on its pendant. He had thanked me, and did not give me one in return.

I guess he is now.

Azriel approached and handed me the large, slim box.

“What is this Az?” I took the wrapped package from him.

“Open it,” he nodded his head to it, “I wanted to give this to you privately.”

I smiled up at him and reached for the wrapping. Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Once completely unwrapped, I opened the box itself. Inside adored the most magnificent bow and quiver I had ever set my eyes on. I lit up at the sight of it.

“Az, this is amazing. Was this made in Dawn?” I took the bow and quiver from inside the box and admired it. Felt them in my hands, the beautifully intricate wooden long bow, with engravings from top to bottom. The quiver made of a light leather material, fashioned with some kind of fur on the strap.

  “Yes, Thesan helped me find it himself.” Azriel put his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

“Thesan himself, thank you,” I gathered the bow and quiver and gently set them down. Then, I reached for Az, my arms stretching around his neck. I buried my head into his collarbone. His arms found their way around my waist, and his head on top of mine. “You remember when I first came to Night? Nothing but my old bow strapped to my back?” I smiled into his chest.

“And it broke, on one of our first missions together. You hit that poor male right over the head with it,” he quipped, bringing one of his hands to the back of my head, patting down my hair.

“Thank you, Azriel, thank you.” I told him again. That bow meant so much to me. It reminded me so much of who I used to be.

---

Now

My hands were in no shape to be in a battle. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Carnage was raining down everywhere. When I wasn’t striking with a sword, I was shooting with my bow. I was going to bring down anyone in my way.

Pain or not.

Sweat was beading down my forehead, and my back. The bandages on my hands were in ribbons, blood staining what remained. My hands made it difficult. I had to adjust to the sloughing skin and ignore what pain I felt jarring up from them to my arms and shoulders.

Rage fueled me as I made my way around the battlefield. Rage for myself not being good enough to save that first night. Rage for my family, who was scattered across the grounds. Rage for falling in love with Azriel. Rage for my unreturned bond screaming in my chest.

Screaming. It was screaming in my chest. A punch to the chest made me stagger back. I grimaced and looked up to my attacker, but no one was there.

Something was wrong. I scanned the skies.

Where are you?

There. Falling.

He was falling from the sky. A scream pierced my throat as the sight. He hit the ground on a hill above the main field being fought in. All my instincts were shouting at me to go to him. The bond was crying at me to go to him. So that’s what I did. Whether I was pissed or not, I could not lose him. Not like this.

I ran, taking out everyone in my way. My body was close to giving in, not fully recovered from my time with Hybern. The pain in my hands continued to radiate through me with every swing of my sword and draw of my bow.

I crested the hill to see Azriel had propped himself up against a tree. His head was lying back, and he gripped the side of his abdomen. I could see the blood from here. A naga was closing in on him.

The bond in my chest thrummed and hurt. It was pain, Azriel’s pain that I was feeling. Panic surged in my bones.

I pulled my bow from my back, skin ripping on my fingers as I drew. I aimed at the fast-moving creature and with a yell released my arrow. I was moving on instinct. No different than hunting for a meal.

It hit its mark. The naga slumped over not more than 10 feet from him.

Ignoring the blood dripping from me, I rushed to him.

He had blood running down his brow. His hair was strewn everywhere. His wings were limp at his sides. Limp. His breathing was ragged. His hazel eyes were shut, pain corroded his face. Even the gold of his skin was damped. I reached for his cheek, feeling his clammy skin. My other hand found his shirt and lifted to see his wound.

It was gaping, there was so much blood. Muscle was torn, ripped open.

“Az, Az, tell me what happened,” I begged him. He only lulled his head further against the tree in response.

The bond, it was fading.

Pure fear burned through me. If that bond was fading, that meant…

I gripped him by his shoulders and shook as hard as I could, “You cannot do this to me! You cannot leave me!” My voice was raw from the hours of battle, my entire being felt like it was being ripped in two.

“Cassian! Rhysand!” I belted at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me over the carnage.

I again reached for his abdomen, placing as much pressure as I possibly could on his wound. He winced in response. Good, that’s good.

“Az, Az listen to me.” The bond was flickering now. “Get up. Get your ass up!” I reached for his end, tugged at it as hard as I possibly could, but I was met with a wall. Terror, true terror overcame me.

The Night Court might have been where I lived, but Azriel was my home. I was losing my home.

There was so much blood. Blood.

That’s when it hit me. I reached for a blade that was fastened to his belt. I didn’t hesitate when I sliced into my arm, deep enough to get good blood flow.

“I’m so sorry Azriel.” I cried as I put my arm to his lips, forcing his mouth open, and the warm sticky liquid into it. “I wish I loved you less,” I sobbed, forcing more into his mouth, “I wish you weren’t my stupid, fucking, mate.”

Saying it out loud, even if he wasn’t in a state to understand, made my heart stand still. Lightheaded, I moved from in front of him. I sat next to him, holding a hand on his abdomen, and a hand on my still bleeding arm.

I couldn’t scream for help anymore, not with the dizziness that clouded me.

So, I sat, holding our bleeding wounds together.

Slowly, I began to feel his end of the bond knit itself back together. Breathing was a little easier when I realized this. He was healing then. It worked.

I looked up from our battered state to see a red blur moving toward us.

Cassian, thank the gods.

He landed on the hilltop and ran to us, taking in our current predicament. Azriel started to stir at the sound of his brother approaching.

Cassian kneeled down, taking my arm in his hand, and staring between Az and I.

“I leave you two alone for an hour and you guys decide it’s a good time to die?!” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know that now is the time to joke around, Cass.” I winced as I sat up toward him. “I’m okay, but Az..”

“Where did all this blood come from?” Cassian said gazing over Azriel’s entire form, panic lacing his voice.

“I saw him fall, when I got to him, he was down, bleeding from his abdomen.” I lifted Az’s shirt to show Cass. The wound had started to close together thanks to his quickened state of healing.

“What about the blood on his face?” Cassian was looking him over for injuries.

My heart hammered. How do I just admit it? Out loud, for anyone to hear this time. It was a fact that I had held so close to myself for so long. I had pinned after Azriel for years now, in silence. I was nothing more than a friend to him, while I fell in love with him.

“Y/N?” He looked over at me again, panic danced around me. “What happened?” His face turned stone cold.

“I.. he’s..” I trailed off, swallowing my fear. I looked into Cassian eyes, more tears somehow finding their way onto mine, “he’s my mate. It was the only way I could save him.” It was almost a whisper as the words left my tongue.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: After being left behind, the reader is on their own trying to find a way out before it’s too late. The reader grapples with unspoken affection for Azriel.

Word Count: 3,695

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: I am so excited with all the positive feedback from Part 1. Seriously, thank you all! I really wanted to focus on building a relationship between Azriel and the reader in this part. That way we can get into the reader’s mind a little bit and justify (if that’s the right word?) some actions between the two of them. Again, I am super new to this and would love feedback on anything! My messages are always open.

Part 1, Part 3

---

Before

I raised my hands ready to strike. Sweat was running down my forehead as the morning sun was already shining hot. I looked at Azriel, shirtless, toned, and glistening in the early morning heat.

Distracting, but honestly, I wasn’t going to complain.

I brought my head down and went in for the strike. My muscles ached as I punched to the right. Azriel made quick work of my hit, dodging to the left. As he went left, I kicked left, bringing my arm closer to my body to maintain some balance. What I didn’t see coming was Azriel’s gasp on my leg pulling my body to the earth.

My back hit the ground with a thump, and the air inside of my lungs escaped me. I could feel the dirt sticking to my damp shirt. Azriel crossed his arms and looked down at me with a smirk on his face.

Oh fuck this.

With a grunt, I twisted my body toward his legs and yanked while he wasn’t expecting it. This movement pulled his body to the earth alongside mine. In one fluid motion I pinned one of his wrists to the ground with my foot. Having to use two of my hands to pin his remaining one next to his head. I also straddled in waist, leaning over him with a smirk of my own.

We were both panting at this point as I stared down into his hazel eyes. Those damn eyes.

“It’s going to take more than making me fall on the ground to actually take me down, you know?” I smirked down at him as I brought my face closer to his, still breathing heavily.

Azriel slightly lifted his mouth toward my ear, panting himself. “There she is,” Azriel purred up at me.

If that wasn’t enough to set me ablaze, I don’t know what would be. I felt a creeping blush find its way up my neck and onto my cheeks. I released him and sat in the dirt next to him.

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “You and Cassian better watch your backs. I’m getting better at this.” My hair was sticking to my face as I tried to wipe it away.

Azriel sit up, “You’ve always been good at this, Y/N.” He faced me and smiled, “Now, where is that winged bastard anyways?”

---

Now

They left me. Tears still ran down my face at the realization that I was not going to be saved. They were lucky to make it out of here with one of us, let alone two. There was simply no way that they would be able to get back into this camp after that. And that if there was anything left of me when they got here. I knew that it was only a matter of time before those males came back in here and realized that Elain was gone and wanted answers. Maybe even just to punish me for seeing it or taking part in it.

As if my mind summoned them, Hybern himself and a male drenched in all back made their way into the tent. I tried to dry up my remaining tears as fast as I could. I had to turn it off. The misery that surrounded not only my body, but my heart. I would not let them see that I was not affected by their treatment of me or my body. I would not let them earn that kind of satisfaction.

“Where is she.” The King demanded, “Where the hell is she!?”

I tried to hide my flinch as the male screamed in my face.

“She’s gone.” Is all is answered, but then, I was feeling angry. “She’s gone, and you will never get your hands on her again. You pig.” I spat. I would not let my eyes leave his.

The King wrapped his hand around my neck, closing off any air. “You’re going to regret that you were ever born, girl,” he snarled at me. My vision was fading, black dots swarmed it. Good. But, before I could find the release that death would bring, he let go. My body gasped for breath, trying to refill it’s empty and burning lungs.

That’s when I realized, the bleeding from my back and abdomen was slowing down. Was I healing? Slowly, but healing. When was the last time they used a blade on me? Half a day ago at this point.

I kept this revelation to myself as the male in all black strode forward and the King left the tent. To my luck, the male only brandished his fists, and no blades. I braced myself for the pain to come.

Relentlessly the male pummeled into me. Opening any old wounds and creating any new bruises he could. I forced myself to go somewhere else mentally. To only scream when I could not forcefully stop myself.

I wish they would have killed me. My mind chided. My mind.

If I was slowly healing, then maybe my mental shields were also coming down. The faebane that had been used on the knife was what was keeping me unable to feel Azriel, to communicate with Rhys, along with heal.

That’s when I truly let myself start screaming, projecting my mind out onto whatever would hear it. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could for anything. For help, for it to all end, for Azriel and Rhysand in any hopes that someone would hear me through my mind.

---

Before

I couldn’t sleep. The House of Wind was my only company as I strode the halls towards the library. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well read.

That’s when I heard an almost silent gasp and struggle. My heart sunk; it was coming from Azriel’s room. I couldn’t stop myself from walking closer to his door, continuing to listen. He remained making strained noises and grunts. What truly caught my ear was a whimper.

I simply couldn’t stand by. I slowly crept to open the door to his room. Azriel was in bed, shirtless and panting. The moonlight was catching his face, and he looked to be in agony. His bed was in disarray as the sheets were everywhere. Slowly, I made my way to the side of his bed and placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Az,” I let the air catch my whisper. “Wake up,” I slowly added my other hand to his remaining shoulder and shook.

At the movement his eyes ripped open and the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the bed with his blade at my throat.

“Az, it’s just me! You were just having a bad dream. I heard and came to wake you.” I gasped out, feeling the cold bite of the metal on my neck.

As fast as I was pinned down, I was let go. The blade no longer remained at my throat.

“What are you doing in here, Y/N?” Azriel ran his hand through his hair as he placed his blade down on a wooden table next to his bed. “I could have hurt you.”

I moved to sit up on the side of his bed, and I reached for his hand. I pulled him back to the bed, where we sat next to one another. “What was it about?” I questioned him. As long as I’ve known Az, I still wasn’t sure that he would want to open up to me. “We all have bad dreams Azriel. If I can help in anyway, please let me.”

I met his eyes as he sighed. “It was about my hands.” We both looked down, I hadn’t realized that I was still holding them in my own.

“About your scars? Your brothers?” I knew of what happened to Azriel and his hands, why he hated the sight of fire.

“Yes,” he sighed. I instinctually rubbed my thumb over his hands and smiled smally.

He looked so deflated. I hated seeing him this way. Sure, I knew that I liked him, hell maybe loved him at this point, but he was my friend first and foremost. I needed to be there for him.

“Do you usually have a hard time making it to sleep at night?” I questioned him trying to make him meet my eyes again. “I sure do.”

He looked a little surprised at the statement, but at least he was looking at me again. I sighed as I pushed myself back onto his bed and leaned up against the headboard. Azriel furrowed his brows at me in confusion. I only held my arm out to him, beckoning him to lay with me.

My heart was pounding. What the hell am I even doing right now? I asked myself.

But, Azriel listened and I found him with his head in my lap, laying down. My hand found its place in his hair. I played with it, and I struggled to keep my breathing straight. My other hand found his bare back between his wings and my fingers ran along it soothingly.

His husky voice broke the silence, “Thank you, Y/N.” He almost nestled further into my lap, finding some comfort in it.

“I’d do anything for you Az, even if it’s just hold you after a hard night.” I don’t know if I was crossing a line by doing this, but I would cross any line for Azriel.

“I hope you know I would do that same for you too, Y/N.” Azriel mumbled as his breathing steadied, and he found his way to sleep.

My heart felt like it was imploding at the sight of Azriel in my lap, at his words. Then, I felt a hum in my chest that wouldn’t go away. His shadows wrapped around us as I sat there. It snapped around us, this feeling that was like no other burrowed itself into my chest and made a home there. Mate. Azriel is my mate.

---

Now

At some point I must have fallen unconscious. I opened my swollen eyes to the dark. It must have been the following night. As my senses found their place around me, I realized that there was screaming outside of my tent. The dark was slowly brightening into an orange haze. This was no orange of the sun though; it was brightening too fast.

Fire.

The camp must have been set aflame like they did ours. It was going to burn down while I was tied up inside of it. Panic flooded every ounce of me.

How the fuck do I get out of here?

I had more strength than previously, my healing finally quickening. I thrashed in my restraints, opening more cuts along my wrists and ankles. The soreness of being beaten was nothing compared to the sheer terror that had its grasp on me.

The flame struck the tent and all I could do was stare at it.

---

Before

After the Acheron sisters had joined us in the house there was something different. There was a strange atmosphere around the house. Everyone knew that something was coming.

I tried to continue to pretend like everything was normal. I did my best to try and get Cassian and Azriel in the ring with me like normal, but now, they had different obligations popping up.

Feyre and Rhys we’re busy of course with the sisters. Feyre also needed to train her abilities from all of the high lords.

Mor was gone to the Hewn City so often it was like she no longer resided in Velaris. Even Amern made herself busy.

I was struggling with my newfound mate. I wanted Azriel more than anything, but I was terrified of ruining our centuries long friendship. I also wanted to be loved first, not have love forced upon me because of being mated.

I continued my walk through the House of Wind and found myself at Azriel’s door. I came here often enough in the centuries that I might not even knock, but I found myself doing so.

There was rustling before Azriel opened the door. His hair looked disheveled, and he was sporting a look on his face that immediately made me regret coming to him.

“Hey,” I smiled up at him.

“Hey,” he smiled back down at me.

“I’m sure that you’re busy with tasks from Rhysand and all, but what do you say about blowing that off and going on a run?” I blew out. I was tense, and I needed a distraction and my friend more than all.

“Y/N, I’d love to.” He sighed, his shadows dancing nervously around him, “But, I can’t leave. I have to make sure I keep an eye on Elain.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the first time since the Acheron sister entered the house that Azriel told me no to because of.

“Oh,” I breathed out, trying to hide any of my disappointment, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” I smiled up at him anyways before I turned on my heel and walked towards my own room.

The bond in my chest that would usually sing in his presence dimmed as I walked away from him. It left me feeling alone.

---

Now

The fire was all around me. The heat was excruciating. There was no way out of this. The wooden support I was chained to caught; it was only a matter of time before I did too.  

I continued to thrash, to try and break free as my hands above me burned. I screamed at the agony in my hands as I forced my arms down again one more time.

The chain came free of the burnt post.

I landed nearly on my face again as I inhaled ash. I tried to catch my breath before looking down. Now just my feet. The pole continued to burn as I trashed until the chain broke around the post.

I still had chains around my wrists, but I was no longer stuck. I took stock of my surroundings. There was a plethora of knifes, swords, and shields in this tent. Surely it must have been the King’s tent before I was strung up.

I couldn’t swing a sword with my wrists tied together, and there was one way I could think of breaking them. I walked toward the flaming post I was tied to and placed the chain and my hands above the licking flames.

I bit my lip from crying out as I let the chains turn red hot. The smell of charred flesh hit my nose amidst the smoke and ash making me gag. My hands were burnt and bubbling, but I could still swing a sword, there was simply no other option. I ripped at the chains as I tore my arms apart. One of the chain-link cracked apart, freeing my hands from being tethered together.

My hands were free, I was free. I set myself into action, I needed to get out if I didn’t want to burn to death. My healing was speeding up. My injuries were still open, but not bleeding. Not tearing themselves back open at the stretching as I moved my body. Though I was still not free of the pain they had caused me.

I grabbed a sword that was next to me and ripped myself free of the tent. There was chaos around me as soldiers tried to put out the flames that were soaring through the camp. It might have been a dark night before this, but the flames were everywhere, it lit everything up.

I took off into a sprint hoping my weakened body could keep up. I prayed that the fire was going to be a good enough distraction that I could keep running until I found true freedom. I screamed in my mind again toward Rhys and Azriel. I could take off into the trees, but them how the hell would I know where to find them.

I took a quick turn to a side of the camp that was not yet lit aflame. I nearly ran into the group of males, but I was able to halt to a stop in time. Breathless, I lifted my sword. My hands were bleeding at their blistered appearance.

“Now, how’d you get out, pretty one?” One of the males snarled at me as he lifted a sword of his own. The group of five surrounded me.

If I wasn’t going to make it out of this fight, they could not have me at all.

---

Before

Azriel finally was able to spend some time with me today. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited. We planned on spending it enjoying Velaris. We were going to meet at one of our favorite dining spots. I sat down at a table waiting for Azriel to come. It was strange to me how nervous I was. I tried to keep the humming in my chest to a minimum.

I opened a book from my bag and began to read as I waited. I heard footsteps behind me coming to the table and assumed it was only Azriel.

Then the smell hit my nose, mahogany and vetiver.  Asher.

Asher was an old fling. Something that had to be broken off quickly due to his attitude surrounding women and his massive ego. His hand hit my chair, and he pulled me slightly away from the table and facing him.

“Y/N, I didn’t plan on seeing you today.” He quipped, leaving his hand on my chair.

I crossed my legs and set my book on the table, “Surely I didn’t plan on seeing you for, hmm, the rest of my life.”

“Now, don’t say that” he put his face in mine close enough I could smell his breath. “I know you miss us, what we did together.” He whispered into my ear.

His voice sent shivers up my body, and not the good kind. He made me uneasy. He was a male who always got what he wanted, no matter what anyone else would say.

Before I could open my mouth to retort something back, he was ripped from my space. “I suggest you turn around and walk away.” Azriel’s voice sounded deadly as he pushed Asher away by his shirt.

Asher only brushed himself off like Azriel’s touch made him dirty and walked away without another word.

“Thank you,” I sighed out. “I usually can handle myself in these situations, I don’t know what came over me.”

Azriel only took the seat in front of me, and reached over the table to take my hand, “I know you can, but I’m glad I was here for you this time.” He smiled up at me.

---

Now

They’re coming. I heard Rhys’ voice in my head.

I was like a prayer had been answered as I faced down my opponents. In the sky there were streaks of blue and red surrounding the camp. Cass, he was okay. Relief flooded through me, even with my current predicament.

A male’s sword came down on me, I rolled avoiding the attack and sending my sword into another male’s abdomen on the way down. My wounds sung with pain as they hit the ground. The dirt stuck to my blooded injuries. I could only smell the ash surrounding the burning camp.

While I was down, another sword came at my head. This is it. So close to freedom. I covered my face with my molten hand out of instinct.

Then the sword and male were gone. A blade shoved through the male’s chest and he was strewn aside.

Cassian and Azriel hit the ground with a loud thump as Cassian threw the male aside. Their syphons glowed in night, no matter how bright the flames burned. Their faces were also made of igneous steel as they stared down the males.

A sound of relief flooded out of me as I tried to sit up. Cassian and Azriel blew through the remaining soldiers like they were nothing, until it was just my living form on the ground surrounded by the dead.

Tears welled up in my eyes, from the smoke, or the relief I wasn’t sure.

Azriel reached for my hand to yank me from the ground, but I cried out in pain. He let me go, eyes wide, as if I was a snake that just tried striking. I was shaking, my hands were in very bad shape. The skin was blistering away from the flesh, blood oozing from everywhere.

“It’s my hands.” I cried out, he reached for me again, placing a hand on my cheek, taking my elbow in his other. In one swift motion, I was cradled in his arms, and we were in the sky. My entire form was shaking as so many emotions clouded me.

He came back for me. But he also left me there, where I had to ruin my hands to get to freedom.

“Is Cassian okay?” I cried into Azriel’s chest and let him carry me far into the sky.

“You go through days of torture at Hybern’s hand and the first question you ask is if Cassian is okay?” A small smile shown through a Azriel’s face as we flew further from the burning camp. “Let that be some testament to your strength.”

I let some silence settle between us before speaking up again. “I didn’t think you were going to come back.” I almost whispered it. Tears still settled their way onto my face, leaving a trail in the ash the covered my cheeks.

“I’ll always come back for you, Y/N. I’m sorry I left you there in the first place.” He looked down at me. I saw my reflection in his eyes, broken, hurt, covered in ash. I placed my head back onto his chest and continued to let my tears fall.

I was nowhere near forgiving him. Nowhere near telling him he was my mate like I wish I had while being cut up. But there was no time for that right now. Now, I was free, and we were going to war.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone, and please let me know if you want to be added for removed from this list).

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.

Word Count: 4,585

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!

Part 2, Part 3

------

Now

All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.

My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.

With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.

I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.

---

Before

“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.

Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.

I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.

Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.

Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.

It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.

It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.

“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.

“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.

“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.

“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.

“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.

---

Now

Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.

“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.

I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.

The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.

“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”

I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.

The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.

“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.

---

Before 

Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same. 

Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron. 

And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain. 

And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it. 

This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well. 

I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.

I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.

—- 

Now

Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.

Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.

“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.

Elain.

---

Before

I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.

Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.

The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.

“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”

This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.

I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.

“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”

Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?

I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”

“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.

“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”

Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”

“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.

“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”

His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?

The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.

I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.

“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.

His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”

He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.

He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.

---

Now

Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?

Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.

“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.

He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”

It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.

Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?

As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.

“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.

He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.

“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”

“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”

“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.

Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.

“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”

The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.

I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.

That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.

---

Before

It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.

It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.

Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.

I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.

---

Now

I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.

Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.

At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.

The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.

Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.

I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.

What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.

It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.

I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.

---

I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.

My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.

“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.

“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.

“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.

Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.

My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.

“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.

The yelling was getting closer and closer.

“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.

Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.

Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?

My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.

“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.

A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.

“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.

I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.

“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”

Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.

“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.

They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.

“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”

Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.

Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.