171AN: I have no excuse for this other than I simply got the feels for it and I wanted to write it. That's it. That's all that I have to say for myself.
Here's a little about it. Carol and Ezekiel are together. They're "married," but they're not "really" married. Carol is still in love with someone else—and I think you know who.
There is some mention of past relationships that Carol has had. Sorry, she's no blushing virgin, and I haven't written her that way. There's nothing explicit, though. She just does something of a run-down of feelings and past/present experiences.
This is a little one shot about a situation that arises. I may write a second part to this eventually, but for now it's just a one shot.
I own nothing from the Walking Dead. I haven't even seen the show in a couple of years so please don't hold me accountable for canon or any of that nonsense since I haven't even seen the darn show. I just keep up with snippets on Tumblr.
Anyway, I doubt that anyone will read this, but if you do, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!
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"It's a blessing on our kingdom," Ezekiel said. Carol moved her finger to drop the blind back into place on the bedroom window. She didn't step away from the window immediately, though.
The sound of his voice and the fake kingly accent normally didn't bother her, but right now she could absolutely feel it crawling up her spine at a sprint.
"Ezekiel, please," Carol said.
"What do you want, my queen?" He asked.
"Cut the crap?" Carol asked.
She turned around to find him smiling at her as he sat on the bed, one leg crossed under him. She sucked in a breath, held it, and released it slowly. She wasn't angry with Ezekiel. Actually, there had been very few times that she'd really been angry with him.
At her request, as usual, he did drop the act. He didn't drop his smile, though, even though his eyes did show that he was sincere.
"What do you want me to say, Carol? I believe it's a blessing. It will be a blessing for the Kingdom. Do you know how happy our people will be when they find out that their queen is going to give them another royal heir?"
Carol's stomach churned.
"Please don't call me that," she said.
"That's how they think of you," Ezekiel said. "Unless—you're regretting that decision?"
"What are you going to do about it?" Carol asked.
"The marriage?" Ezekiel asked.
Carol swallowed. She was surprised at herself. She was surprised at how angry she felt. Ezekiel had done nothing to her. He'd done nothing to make her angry. Nobody had done anything to make her angry. She'd woken up, honestly, feeling like her skin was electrically charged and crackling with her anger and irritation.
She might have clawed her way out of her own body if she'd thought it was possible to escape herself at that moment.
"The—baby," she said.
The word stuck in her throat. It scratched at her throat. It made it feel raw. It made her stomach churn, too, and reminded her that she was only a half-hour away from the majority of the morning that she'd spent on her hands and knees vomiting into a bucket and crying over her situation.
"Well—I'm going to love it," Ezekiel said. "I'm going to announce to the people that their queen—my wonderful wife—is expecting. And then I'm going to take care of my wife and wait for the baby to come. And when it comes, I'm going to love it."
"As your own?" Carol asked. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the windowsill behind her.
Ezekiel held his arms out, open, toward her. He invited her, without saying anything, to come toward him and embrace him.
She ached to embrace him at that moment, and he must have been able to sense it. She stood there, a moment longer, to try and show that she didn't need his comfort, but in the end her desire to be comforted won out over her pride. She came forward and he got to his feet to properly envelop her in a strong hug. He stroked the back of her head. He stroked her hair. He rubbed her back. She closed her eyes to the comfort of the embrace.
She loved him dearly. She was truly sorry that she could never love him the way he'd once hoped she would. At least he accepted the love that she did have to offer, and he returned it back tenfold.
"I will gladly take the baby as my own," Ezekiel said. "There's no question."
"This was never supposed to happen," Carol said. "I'm too old."
Ezekiel laughed and the laughter shook Carol as well.
"Clearly that's something you've just been telling yourself," Ezekiel said. "If you'll allow me to—bring back the crap—it's been common knowledge to me that as long as my lady's moons come upon her, this is something that might come to pass."
"What are you going to tell everyone?" Carol asked, pulling away from him.
Ezekiel smiled at her. He smiled warmly all the way to his eyes. He had sweet, soulful eyes. Carol felt a few of the knots in her chest untangling at the warmth of his smile. He raised his eyebrows at her.
"I'm going to tell them that I am thrilled that my queen is bearing me a child," Ezekiel said. "I'm the king. I don't owe them anything else."
"You're sterile," Carol said.
Ezekiel made a face at her and, at the most inopportune of moments, Carol could feel humor bubbling up inside her at the expression. She pursed her lips at him to avoid laughing.
"I told you that as my wife," Ezekiel said. "But—you may be surprised to know that you're the only person in the Kingdom that is privy to that information. Nobody else needs to know that I'm incapable of fathering a child. Nor do they need to know that the queen and I have never properly consummated our marriage—even though we sleep in the same bed together every night for the warmth and the companionship."
Carol sighed and, stepping away from him entirely, went over to the bed. She sat down and ran her fingers over the blanket.
Ezekiel had offered her so many things. He'd given her everything she'd asked of him, too. He was generous, perhaps, to a fault.
Carol wanted a family. She enjoyed the strength that she'd found—or rather the strength that she'd cultivated to be something that others could see. She enjoyed being known for her skill with a knife, a gun, and a bow. She enjoyed her role as a semi-leader for the Kingdom.
But Carol had always wanted a family. She'd always enjoyed the domesticity of being a wife and a mother. Whether or not every woman saw it as a noble cause, it was something she'd dreamed of her entire life.
She'd found Ed first. She'd believed that she loved him, but he'd eventually numbed her to that love. She'd lost the daughter that he'd given her—the only child that she'd carried in her body.
Until now.
She'd found something of a surrogate motherhood with Judith, but she shared the girl with everyone else. Then she'd been made responsible for Lizzy and Mika.
For a brief moment, Carol had stood by a water pump and believed she might find a home and family with Tyreese. She might, in some way, become his wife—or at least his partner. Together they might raise three little girls. They might know a life together that was at least dotted with some peace.
But she'd lost that dream quickly and violently—before it had even fully come to fruition.
She'd adopted a role of feigned domesticity when she'd arrived at Alexandria and, losing herself among casseroles and cookies, she'd realized that she still ached for the home and family that she felt she needed deep down inside.
But everyone died. And the one man that she loved—truly loved—was so damaged by a world that was determined to destroy them all that she doubted if he could ever really love her. Even if he could love her, she doubted that he'd ever want a home and family with her.
She had sought comfort and the chance to pretend that she'd found what she was looking for in Tobin. What he'd lacked in desirability, he'd made up for in kindness. Carol had tried her best to play house with him. She'd tried her best to care for him. But at the end of the day, it was just a game, and she wasn't very good at playing it.
Carol felt sorry when Tobin died, even though she'd left him long before that, because she'd never loved him. She'd never given him what he needed or what he wanted from her. He had been good to her and, if she had allowed it, he would have been even better to her.
She couldn't love him, though. And she was sorry for not having told him that from the start.
She had told Ezekiel from the start that she could never love him.
Her heart already belonged to someone else, even if he never really wanted to have it entirely for himself.
Ezekiel had asked her to marry him, fully aware of her love for Daryl. He'd promised her that he would never ask from her more than she was willing to give. He'd promised her, too, that he would never stand in the way of her love. He wasn't interested in possessing her entirely—mind, body, and spirit. He sought companionship. He wanted her love, but he was happy even if that love was no more than the love of a very dear friend. He wanted to worship her body, but he understood if she didn't want to share that side of herself—and he understood if she wanted to, but preferred to remain somewhat detached. He didn't mind offering her nothing more than mere physical pleasure, because every body craved pleasure and physical closeness, if that was what she wanted. He would allow her to decide, each step of the way, what she wanted from their relationship.
He promised her that he would never force her to answer questions that she didn't want to answer, and he would allow her to go off, whenever she needed, to seek whatever it was that she seemed to desperately need.
He knew about her Wildman and her need to visit the forest—and he would never stop her from making the trips.
He would never ask more of her than she was willing to give, and he would forever be happy with anything she gave. So far, he had kept that promise even more so than Carol might have ever expected from him.
In return for anything she was willing to offer him, he would marry her. He would offer her companionship. He would offer her comfort when she needed it and company to chase away the loneliness. He would provide her with a home and stability, and he would help her raise her adopted son, Henry.
And he would never hold against her the man that she loved because he understood unrequited love.
Carol did love Ezekiel. Even if she could never love him the way that he wished she would.
"They'll know when it's born," Carol said. "Ezekiel—they're going to know that it's not your baby. They're going to know that I..."
"I'll dare any of them to speak a word against the honor of their queen," Ezekiel said. "Besides—Henry shares very little in common with me physically. Yet, I know he's my son. Just as you know he's your son."
Carol swallowed and nodded her head.
"What's Henry going to say?" Carol asked.
"He'll be thrilled," Ezekiel said. "A baby brother or sister. Someone to protect and cherish. He'll be very protective of his mother during this delicate time."
Ezekiel moved to the bed and sat down next to Carol. He dropped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against him. He smelled nice. He smelled familiar. The time that they'd spent together, at least, had brought that. Carol could find comfort with him.
"In everything you've asked me," Ezekiel said, "I've noticed that you've had very little concern for what Carol would say. For what Carol would think."
"I wasn't prepared to be a mother again," Carol said.
"But now that you are..." Ezekiel said. Carol could hear the question in his voice that prompted her to continue.
"It would be dangerous to try to get rid of it," Carol said.
"Something tells me that isn't what you would want," Ezekiel said, tightening his hold on her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, and we'll find the best healthcare that we possibly can. If that's what you want."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I still want the best healthcare we can find," Carol said. "Because—I'm a little bit terrified."
"It's as good as done," Ezekiel assured her.
"But I don't want to get rid of it," Carol said. "In fact, I'm a little terrified that something might happen to it."
"We'll do our best," Ezekiel said. "There are no promises, of course, but we'll do our best. Have you told him?"
Carol immediately knew that he was referring to Daryl.
"I only just realized it for myself," Carol said. "I haven't been back..."
"You should tell him," Ezekiel said. "The weather is nice. It doesn't seem like there are any storms coming. It would be a good time for you to make the trip. Still—I think you should take Henry with you this time. Just to be sure. You should tell Daryl, though. At the very least, he deserves to know that the heir you're carrying is really his."
Carol laughed insincerely to herself.
"He's so tangled up in his pain," Carol said. "His anger. He doesn't have room for this."
"He's never once turned you away," Ezekiel said.
"It's physical to him," Carol said.
"You know this because you've asked him?" Ezekiel asked.
"I know this because he's never said any different," Carol said.
"Have you?" Ezekiel asked. Carol didn't respond, but she didn't have to. He knew the answer. He hummed in response. "Some men can't say the words. Some women can't either. Especially not—not after everything."
"With everything that's happened, this would be the worst news to him," Carol said. "He doesn't need this."
"Shouldn't you at least tell him?" Ezekiel asked. "Give him the chance to make that decision?"
"And then what?" Carol asked with a laugh. "I bring him back here? I dust off the dirt and the twigs and the leaves? I peel the hides off that have nearly grown to him and I bring my Wildman of the forest back to the Kingdom? I force him to live in my home with—my husband?"
Ezekiel laughed.
"Though I would gladly be your love, Carol," Ezekiel said, "we both know that I am little more than a companion to you."
"I do love you, Ezekiel," Carol offered.
"I know you do," Ezekiel said. "And I love you. And—we both love Henry and we'll both love this baby. And if you brought your Wildman of the forest back here, we would make it work. It wouldn't be the first time that a king and queen occupied separate bedchambers, and it wouldn't be the first time that royalty took a lover." He laughed again. "Besides—the people do enjoy a good scandal and the Kingdom has needed a little awakening as of late."
Carol laughed. She reached her hand over and patted Ezekiel's leg. She puckered her lips at him and offered him a kiss. Kisses, handholding, and hugs were the only physical affections that she offered Ezekiel, but he never complained, and he never turned them down. He pecked her lips and smiled at her. With a finger, he brushed her hair back where it fell into her face.
"Well, my queen? Should I gather together the subjects for a blessed announcement?" Ezekiel asked.
Carol nodded.
"I think—I think we might as well," Carol said.
"And should I ready the horses for the queen and the prince to depart thereafter?" Ezekiel asked.
Carol swallowed against the nausea that welled up inside her.
"I think I'm more afraid that he wouldn't care at all," Carol said, "than I am that—he would care."
"However he feels," Ezekiel said. "He deserves to know. He may surprise you."
"Losing Rick—it's been hard on him. Everything. It's been hard on him," Carol said. "Something like this might be too much. It's better if it's my burden."
"It's not just your burden," Ezekiel said.
"I'd rather wait," Carol said. "Give him time. I'd rather—take some time, myself, to sit with it. To get used to it."
Ezekiel nodded.
"Very well," he said. "For the time being, I will help you carry the weight of it. Come, my queen. Let's tell the prince. Then, together, we can tell the Kingdom that you'll be giving them an heir."
Carol stood up.
"Thank you for understanding," she offered.
Ezekiel nodded again and refreshed his smile before he offered her an arm.
"I'll understand, as well, when you decide to disappear to the forest like the faerie queen I know you to be," he assured her. "All I ask is that—you don't stay gone forever. Even if you should find that you can never truly return. That you can never truly leave your Wildman. Don't stay gone forever. Even if you just come back to visit."
Carol slipped her arm into his and leaned her face against his shoulder.
"I couldn't stay gone forever," she promised. "I'll always come back." She laughed to herself. "Even if I have to drag my Wildman with me and find a way to explain it to all your subjects."
