Nox: This is a sequel. If you didn't read my story Promise (which is so worth the read, and prompted by the lovely and talented letmefallasleep) certain context, hell the whole story won't make sense. So be a doll and go read that one first, kay? You remember how much I love you all? Well, here's a follow up story to Promise, because I simply couldn't back down from those Promo Teasers. And this one, though it's going to be Maryl (because I made them), will undoubtedly become Caryl. I have plans for our kits.

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

Warning: Merle is a racist asshole – I don't apologize nor will I change him.

Brave

"Now darlin'," he said, all sweet and sugary, and she felt her skin scrawl. She remembered the way Maggie had talked about him, about what he'd done to her. She didn't put nothing past him. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling inward. She wished he were here, but knew she needed to be strong.

"Seems to me you're worth more than I thought." The smirk on his face made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

And only one word kept screaming through her head.

Bait.

"I won't let you use me to get to him." She wanted to sound brave, had meant to. But even she could hear the hesitation in her own voice. The smile never left his face, and she could hear the others in the small contained room laughing at her.

"Besides," she said, gripping her legs until they began to ache, "he won't come for me. He's not stupid. He'll see right through you."

She jolted when his hands slammed onto the table, a knife gripped tight in one, sending her heart into her throat. His one eye, the other covered by a black patch, darkened.

"Oh, he'll fuckin' come sweetheart. He'll come, or I'll cut out those pretty blue eyes a yours and send'em back to him, wrapped in a box, with a fuckin' bow."

And she felt the smallest inkling of doubt shoot through her.

3 Days Earlier…

"Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at that?" He was nursing his bruised face, licking at his swollen lip. She could see that he was still shaking, whether from rage or adrenaline, she wasn't sure. She was also certain he had several fist-sized bruises popping up all over his chest. She knew his body had to ache.

"I said I was fine, dammit. Don't ya know how ta listen?" He glared at her, the effect ruined by his blackening, swollen eye. She started to reach out, to touch his face, when he batted her hand away.

"Fuckin' touch me!" He stood abruptly, takin' a few steps away from her. "Hell were you 'n ma brother talkin' bout anyway?" She watched Daryl's face morph from concern to anger the longer her silence stretched. She twisted her hands together, and dropped her head.

Did she tell him? It didn't really seem right to talk about Merle's request to Daryl when it was about Daryl. She'd made a promise after all, to look after him.

And she would make good on that, to the best of her ability.

"Hell woman, it's a simple fuckin' question. How bout a simple fuckin' answer?" He sat down again, cradling his side.

She hesitated a moment before deciding she couldn't keep anything from Daryl.

"He…" Daryl leaned forward, his brows furrowing intent on her answer. "He made me promise him."

And Daryl just about exploded. He jumped up, staggered a bit and winced, but didn't let that falter him.

"The fuck did he say?" He took a threatening step toward her, but she didn't really take it to heart. She could see in his eyes that he was nervous, still feeling the rush of the fight with Merle, still on edge. He wasn't letting her finish and he was jumping to conclusions, fast.

She took another moment to answer, to gather herself. She knew what she was going to say, would upset him.

"The fuck did you promise him!" She leaned back, his voice echoing around them in the prison. Everyone would have heard that.

"Daryl…" she stayed still, kept her hands in her lap. She knew from past experience that trying to coax him back, as if he were a frightened animal, had only had the reverse reaction.

He started to pace.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill'im." He turned to leave, his leg quivering from exhaustion, but she knew mostly from Merle beating on him.

She grabbed him by the arm, feeling his muscles tense up beneath her grip.

"Daryl, please don't." He whirled on her, his lip curled up.

"An' why the hell not?" He glanced down at her hand, still on his arm. She didn't pull it away.

"Because…" she searched for the right words to tell him, how to make it easier. But none of this was going to be easy. She knew he was just going to take it hard, as if Merle didn't think he could take care of himself.

"Because I agreed to it alright?" She didn't let her gaze falter, because he needed to know that it was something she was okay with.

"He asked me. Didn't force," she said softly. But Daryl's gaze never lost that fury, and he still looked like he wanted to rip Merle's throat out, again.

"I wouldn't agree to nothing unless I was okay with it. You know that." But he didn't look so sure.

And maybe, he wasn't. Maybe when it came to Merle, things weren't so easy.

He stared at her, hard, his face full of confusion, and anger, and hatred. And then he turned again, she letting him go this time. She knew that sometimes, she just had to let him vent out his anger.

"I'm still gonna fuckin' kill him," he muttered and he walked off, shoulders hunched, looking more defeated than he had when he came back from Woodbury.

She sighed, feeling more exhausted than ever, and slumped into a chair.

She didn't like not revealing the nature of Merle's promise to Daryl, but at the same time she was almost certain that Daryl would have been just as pissed about it.

It was a double-edged sword. She wasn't going to win either way. And now, she'd already avoided telling him exactly what it was.

"It's basically lying," she uttered under her breath.

"A lie's a lie." She jerked her head up, catching Michonne's eyes. She looked at her with those razor-sharp slits, and her hard-edged body. "No matter what." Michonne stood there, still as stone.

Carol still wasn't sure what to make of the woman, but didn't feel any threat from her, and that was just about good enough for her. These days, anyone who could protect the group with a giant sword, was one hell of a person. And she figured she would have to accept that.

"I…I don't know," she said, unsure. Michonne took a step forward, hand on the hilt of that sword – katana. That was what she had called it. Katana.

"You either know, or you don't." She was sure that Michonne was sure of just about anything. She could see it in her eyes, the way they calculated everything around her. The woman knew what she wanted, and she knew how she would make it happen.

She sighed and rubbed at her face, and bent over to clean up the things that had scattered in the fight.

"Is there something I can help you with Michonne, or did you just come to chat?" She hadn't meant to sound clipped or rude, but that's how it must have come out.

"I came here," she enunciated, and Carol looked up, stopping what she doing, "to see if you were okay." Michonne stood ramrod straight, her braids hanging around her shoulders, and she looked lethal.

But there was a way that she hovered over Carol, a way that she kept glancing out the prison cell as if she were looking for somebody.

Carol knew then that Michonne had come to check up on her.

Michonne.

"I'm fine, thank you." She waited, and still the black woman stood there, so imposing.

Why hadn't someone else come to check on her? Like Beth, or Carl, or maybe Maggie?

And Michonne, being as perceptive as ever, seemed to sense what she was thinking. "I came because the others are too preoccupied with the hick." Her lip curled up in disgust, her face morphing with it. Such a small facial gesture and yet, it consumed hers. Carol was fascinated.

"What do mean? Do you mean Daryl…" Michonne shook her head, and turned at an angle.

"I mean that pig he calls brother." Carol dropped the things she was carrying and bolted out of the cell and latched onto the railing, looking out over the edge.

She couldn't believe she didn't know what was going on.

Merle stood toe-to-toe with Rick, the tension apparent on everyone. She could just make out Daryl at the top of the stairs, watching Merle like a hawk. He looked like he was ready to dive on them if things got heated.

But who he would protect, Carol wasn't sure.

"And I says if ya go there, ya might as well cut off ya arms coz ya just handin' yaselves to the Governor." The newest editions to their group stood outside the prison block door, peering in with curious eyes. She made her way down the tread, feet clanging on the metal. But for as loud as she was, no one seemed to notice because all eyes were on Rick and Merle. She felt Michonne following at her back.

"And if we don't want to?" Rick had that look on his face, the one where he already had his mind made up but he was just testing the waters.

"Then ya in fer a world a fuckin' trouble Officer Friendly." She could tell by the look on Merle's face that he was pissed about where the conversation had gone, and knew that Rick was just playing along for his benefit. She wished she could tell Rick to back off, but knew that interrupting would just make things worse.

"Ain't no more officers here, Merle." Merle's smile oozed hatred, and there was so much vengeance in his eyes, Carol was surprised that a fight hadn't broken out yet. She'd made it to the stairs, passing Daryl, who avoided looking at her face. She went down, and stood next to Beth and Hershel, who were leaning against the wall.

"Well then Rick fuckin' Grimes," he said with so much vehemence, Carol felt her skin crawl, "ain't that just my lucky day." She watched his body coil and knew things were about to get ugly.

"Merle-" Daryl yelled from behind her, but it didn't matter.

Merle lunged at Rick and he reciprocated.

Carol suspected that Merle was just looking to take out his anger on somebody, since he didn't get to do it on Daryl.

Which broke her heart to think about. She didn't want Daryl and Merle to fight, not when things were so ugly and at any moment, one of them could die. She knew it was a lot to ask, for them to be nice to each other. But she couldn't deny that that was what she wanted.

She was surprised that nobody stopped them.

Rick may have been small, but he compensated well for it. While Merle may have been big, and packed a heavy punch, he was also slower than Rick. Where Merle hit once, Rick hit three times.

But Merle did have the advantage of his metal arm, and that was taking its toll on Rick.

"Someone should stop them," Michonne said from behind her. She hadn't even realized the woman was still with her.

"Merle, that's enough!" Glenn stepped forward, calling out, but seemed unsure of what to do all the same. He even looked a little afraid of stepping into the middle of the fight.

"Rick, you need to end this now!" Hershel's voice echoed from behind, and Carol wasn't sure what he meant by that.

"Fuck you mean ol' man?" Seemed like Daryl had taken it that way as well.

"Merle, knock it off!" Daryl hobbled past her, heading for Merle. He didn't look good, limping his way over there. He was going to get knocked on his ass if he got in the middle of that.

And he did, just as he laid his hand on Merle's arm. Merle reached back with a swing of his metal arm and slammed it right across Daryl's shoulder, sending him into the ground.

"Fuckin' git Daryl!" And Carol, she felt her mind go blank as she watched Daryl fall to the ground, his face twisting in pain.

"Merle Dixon!" She didn't know when she'd done it or how it happened, but she was standing over them all, and screaming at the top of her lungs. The room had gone silent, everyone's eyes on her.

She reached down, and gave Daryl a hand. He protested, but she was so angry at what had happened that she snapped at him too. "Stop it and take my hand." He didn't like it, she could tell, but he did as was told anyhow.

She made sure he was close, so that if he needed to, he could lean against her.

And while this all happened, no one moved. Not even Merle and Rick, who were lying on the ground, still, Rick beneath Merle.

"Get the hell offa him Merle." Merle's face twisted up into a snarl, and she felt Daryl grip her arm tight. "Carol," he whispered but she ignored it.

"I said," she forced through her teeth, the anger rising up in her now. Who the hell were they to sit there and fight like a bunch of wild apes who didn't have the common sense of man.

"Get off of him." And he sat there on Rick, glaring murder at her. "Before somebody shoots you."

"Wouldn't be such a bad idea." Everyone turned to look at Michonne, and she merely raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck you nigg-" She reached out to grab his shoulder, effectively stopping him from finishing his sentence. She could already feel the tension dripping off of Michonne. She gripped him hard, making him look at her, instead of anyone else. She jerked her head, in Carl's direction.

And there he stood off to her right, gun pointed directly at Merle's head.

And Merle took a moment to process this, looking around at each of the faces that were staring only at him.

And then he rose to his feet, blood and sweat dripping from his face, and looked down on her, all six feet of him, daunting and lethal, pissed off. She felt Daryl lean in close, and that gesture alone made her feel safe, protected.

Made her feel brave.

"Jus' coz I asked yous somethin'," he breathed, leaning close, "don't mean you got nothin' over me. Bitch." She waited till she felt calm enough to speak.

"I think you should take a walk." His eyes flickered, confusion flashing briefly. But he looked around, at the faces peering back at him, and then he studied her once, up and down.

"Fuck you," he spat and stomped over to the prison block door.

He kicked it, hard, the clang of the metal echoing loudly around them. "Ya'll don't want me in here, then open this fuckin' door!"

Carol watched Carl approach the door with some trepidation.

"What the hell ya waitin' fer boy? Open the fuckin' door!" She could tell that Carl's hesitation was out of curiosity. Merle was like a rabid animal, foaming at the mouth. But there was this instinct you had to try and help it even if it tried to bite you. At least, that's how she felt.

She strode forward and took the keys gently from Carl.

"Finally," he snapped. "Is the mouse the only one a ya who's got the balls to take on ol' Merle?" He chuckled, looking around mockingly.

She pushed the door open, let it swing wide.

He thrust his face in hers, and she just barely stopped herself from flinching. She could already feel herself leaning back, his proximity alarming; bringing back the fresh memory of their earlier encounter. But she knew she couldn't let him intimidate her. She'd already done that once, and it had caused trouble for both her and Daryl.

"Have a nice walk," she said sweetly, a smile working up the corners of her lips.

His face twisted in a snarl, but he did nothing. Just turned on his heel and stormed out.

Reviews for the Muse.

A/N: So, it's a little different, but I promise. It will be grand.

Isn't it always?