It is only at Judithâs request that Carol lets her hair grow.
Though she personally preferred it short as it was much easier to style and better when dealing with walkers and enemies, Judith had begged her to grow it out.
âLong, long, long.â Judith had requested
At first she had grown it back to what Judith was used to seeing, but with a little more cajoling from the little girl she had grown it all the way to her shoulders.
Judith loved to play with her hair. She would style it as best as she could at her five years, learning how to braid and do ponytails. She specially loved to make flower crowns and braid them with Carolâs hair. âYou are my beautiful fairy.â Judith once informed her.
So she had let it grow out. They had reached relative peace between the communities so she didnât have to worry about anyone grabbing her by it to hold her in place, nobody to use it against her. Whenever she went out to clear whatever walkers were roaming nearby she always pulled it back in a half ponytail.
It wasnât her absolute favorite thing, to have long hair, but it was something she could deal with if it meant that Judith was happy.
What she hadnât thought she would actually like, though, was other people touching it, specially a man.
She had never feared that Ezekiel would harm her. She knew him. Never did she doubt his intentions towards her. It was still a surprise when one night while they were cuddling and holding each other close after having made love, he tenderly threaded his fingers through her hair.
The movement was small, non aggressive, but she froze for a second. A second was all it took for him to notice the hesitation in her.
âForgive me.â He quickly said, pulling his hand away.
âNo, no itâs alright.â She promised him, settling against his chest once again, her body relaxed. âItâs⌠itâs not something I can stop.â
Ezekiel was quiet for a couple of heartbeats before he said in a low voice. âI really hate your ex-husband.â
Carol chuckled and agreed with him. âSo do I.â
Gathering her courage, she twisted her arm until she was able to catch his hand. Slowly, so that he could see she was inviting the touch, she guided his hand to her hair once more. After a second of hesitation Ezekiel once again began playing with her hair. He started slow, gently moving his fingers against the ends that he could reach. Slowly he moved upward, his fingers disappearing and pressing against her scalp, massaging it.
A shiver ran through her which only made her snuggle further against him. âCold?â He asked, already moving to cover them with a thick blanket.
âNo.â She admitted though she knew eventually her body would fully cool down. âIt just feelsâŚâ. Her voice trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
âYeah⌠good.â She couldnât help but agree. It was foreign, the sensation of a loving touch where before it had only known abuse and hatred, but it felt good.
âI like it.â Ezekiel whispered after they had fallen into silence, Carol had even closed her eyes allowing sleep to slowly claim her.
âYour long hair.â He elaborated. âAnd no, before you say it, I donât like it more than your short hair. You are gorgeous with your pixie haircut. I fell in love with you with that hairstyle.â
Carol chuckled but didnât open her eyes. âGood save there, my King.â She teased him.
âI try.â He grinned. âI also happen to love this style. You look like a fairy.â
âThatâs what Judy says.â Carol snuggled deeper into his embrace. âShe says Iâm her fairy.â
This time Ezekiel laughed, his chest vibrating beneath her which only made her laugh, her face tilting upwards, her eyes opening to look directly into his, sleep forgotten for now. âYou donât mind it?â
âNot the hair itselfâŚâ she paused for a couple of moments, trying to gather the courage to ask what was really bothering her. âThe color. Do you mind the color?â
âWhy would I mind the color?â He asked, genuinely confused.
âItâs grey⌠in a couple of years it might be fully white.â
âWell, shouldnât a King have a wife he can show off? A young wife to bear him children? A wife he can be proud of?â
Now it was Ezekielâs turn to stiffen beneath her.
âYou forget I am no king and who says that I am not proud of you?â He asks her , his finger moving beneath her chin in anticipation to her not wanting to look at him. âBut if I really were one, grey or white hair wouldnât matter to me. Itâs just color. Some go grey earlier than others. Some have a hard time going grey. Itâs just color.â He repeated. âCarol what matters isnât your hair color, or your age, or whether or not we can have children.
She was about to say something but he quickly placed a finger on her lips. âLet me finish please.â
When she made no move to continue speaking, he pulled back. âWhat matters to me is what is in your soul; your caring nature, your love for our family, the way you are fiercely protective of Henry and Judith, the way you will run yourself to the ground if it means that everyone in our community is safe and sound. I love the little things you do like joke with Jerry and put up with my Shakespearean wannabe flair, or grow your hair out because Judith asked you to. I love waking up and seeing your face first thing in the morning, seeing your hair wild and all over the place. I love the kisses we share before starting our day. I love how you let me hold your hand or pull you close. If your hair bothers you, we can do something about it, I am sure weâd be able to find something, but donât ever feel like you have to change or should be ashamed of anything because of me.â
Carol could feel her heart beating wildly against her chest and his, growing with the love she felt for this man. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him and show him how much she loved him, so she went ahead and did it.
âI love you.â She mumbled against his lips.
âAnd I love you, my beautiful ethereal fairy Queen.â