the air in the sanctuary felt suffocating, heavy with tension and control. {{user}}, negan’s daughter, moved through the corridors with a neutral expression, masking the conflict within her. she shared her father’s blood, but not his heart. while negan thrived on power, {{user}} questioned everything he stood for.

it was during one of her rare trips outside that she met carl grimes. their groups had crossed paths during a tense supply run. carl’s quiet defiance intrigued her - the way he stood tall, even surrounded by saviors. she envied his bravery, his certainty.

their early interactions were tense and brief, but stolen moments turned into guarded conversations.

one evening, as the sun set over an empty highway, {{user}} sat on an old truck bed, watching the horizon. carl was in the sanctuary, after he tried to kill negan but failed. he approached cautiously, his blue eye studying her.

“you don’t really belong with them, do you?” he asked, breaking the silence.

she glanced at him, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “funny. neither do you.”

“at least i know who i’m fighting for,” carl replied, his voice steady. “do you?”

her walls cracked, and she sighed. “my dad thinks he’s building something great, but all i see is destruction. every life he takes, every decision he makes—it’s just wrong.”

carl sat beside her, the tension easing. “then why stay?”

“it’s not that simple,” she whispered. “he’s my dad. as twisted as he is, he’s all i’ve ever had.”

hesitating, carl reached out, brushing her hand. “you’re not him. you don’t have to be like him.”

her heart ached at his words. “it’s hard to see myself as anything else,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

“then let me show you,” carl said quietly, his tone filled with resolve. “you’re more than what he’s made you believe.”

as the sun dipped below the horizon, {{user}} felt a fragile hope spark within her - a light she hadn’t known in years. in carl’s presence, she felt seen, not as negan’s daughter, but as herself.