#One of Logan's main inspos is Dany Targaryen

[sonofsaviors]

@deputygonebye

Medicine bottles and a first aid; generosity that wasn't frequent from the hands of the Saviors. Never part of their routine, the haul was heavy in Shane's arms, an offering of peace but not one so sweet. Still trapped was he and all the rest that he called family. Negan and his band of merciless hunters, a pack of wolves that would feast until the entire land was picked dry. Gnawed bones stripped completely of their flesh - retaliation for what had been lost - Rick and the entire group surrounded by overgrown weeds and result of their crimes. But such punishment would not come to pass so soon. Better ideas in mind, yet to be had, yet to be created by the master of all the misery, Logan had provided means to live another day. Maggie would be able to find comfort in her pregnancy. Bound for Hilltop, far away but certain to return to her kin eventually, safe. Judith and Carl soothed from aches and pains by the simplicity of an aspirin. One more day for the whole group who had survived since Atlanta.

But never would a single day replace the memories of what felt like a lifetime. Glenn and Abraham had been killed. Gentle eyes dimmed forever all because Negan had decided so, power and glory stomped out with the ruthlessness of a baseball bat swing. Still could Shane hear the noises as Negan did as he pleased. Splattered blood - cries that had become burned into the foundations of dreams - cracked bone and ragged breath. None would ever be the same. Snapped, sanity and whatever else that could still be clung onto, captured in worn and tired hands. As if it were just mere seconds before, Shane could recall what it was like to have met them both for the first time, Glenn and Abe. Confused and as scared as he, wandering the world, disturbed by the sudden changes. From one corner to the next, Atlanta to the outskirts of the Prison, mistakes made wouldn't be repeated. And an even more dangerous enemy had Logan and his father both made.

Neither Rick nor Negan to be seen, Logan and Shane were the sole contenders to the war between the factions. Houses locked or broken into, vandalized or redecorated, it was the visual of two different fronts forced together and met in the middle. A clash that sounded much like the fire of a gun, the bang of a hammer against nails, the scream of a woman who found herself a widow. But shared was their lives to be. United, bonded as master to slave, traitor to traitor. Logan couldn't escape his side of fate. Married into it by the influence of someone who wasn't of his own person, born and would see death for the cause. A deputy of sorts to the entire game his father played; Shane's alternative come straight from the pages of nightmares. Roles reversed before either could see it coming, the child traded position with the man who had earned his place. Shane knew the signs. Watched as eyes moved from one member to the next, jotted down on blanket notes with black ink, the tip of the pen almost like new. Logan was just as respected as Negan.

An insult just on the tongue, said almost as easily as it would've been years before, the sounds of sirens and the blue and red of lights flashing like fireworks in King County, Shane fought temptation. An urge to say just what was deserved to be said, what Logan and all of whom he called family needed to hear. What Rick couldn't say. What Daryl and Sarah were too afraid to, a dangerous former deputy just crazed enough to make the leap of faith. Whatever it would take to set things right. A rottweiler muzzled for the greater good. "You got no real idea, do you?" Shane spit, the muscles in his face contorted in a look of utter disgust, unspoken rage and tension. "You talk to me about facts, but you don't have a clue about any of this. Whatever your dad says, that's what you and yours go off of. But you ain't got no sense, Logan. This world, what I've been through, what my family's been through, it ain't no comic book. There's no fairytale in this world. Pride don't have anythin' to do with it. You might fool all your buddies around here, but you don't fool me."

Shane stated, the voice of a father present and clear, "your father, he's hurt good people, people that I care for and love. You'll do good to keep that in mind. Take what you will, write down whatever the hell suits your fancy in that notebook of yours, but don't think I won't be keepin' an eye on you. Negan's got Rick, but you don't got me. Not me, not my daughter, not anybody else of mine that the Saviors terrorize. This fire you keep kindlin' is gonna burn by the end. Let me tell you, it won't be us who gets caught in the flames."

Logan gave a slow blink, letting words melt into the air between them and settle thick and heavy, like a cutting fog. Being in Alexandria almost always drew this slow, almost ponderous nature from the young Savior, every action, every movement, every thought, and words - spoken and unspoken - carefully weighed and measured. It wasn't just his own ass on the line when he was here. The other Saviors, and his father depended on him to not show weakness or fear; he had killed, to both protect and defend them. Even if afterwards, he felt sometimes, the blood would never come off.

He was very much aware that Shane had probably done the same. That it very much could be said that they were trapped reflections of the other; Rick and Negan's right hand men respectively. Logan was a deputy in all but name.

Negan's son finally gave a bitter scoff, a sarcastic smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, almost, but not quite rolling his eyes. The Deputy didn't, couldn't know how he felt and what he'd gone through since the Fall. The only people who knew about Mom was down to two, himself and Dad. How they had watched her wither away like a flower in winter until there was nothing left but something wrong puppeting her body after she had died from a long battle with cancer.

"We've all hurt good people. People who deserved it, people who didn't. I don't fucking fool myself into thinking that we're the good guys and you're the bad guys. Please. I'm not fucking two." Another sarcastic snort, and the teenager shook his head, a brief shake that barely took his eyes off of the people in front of him. You didn't take your eyes off your target when it was in front of you. He was only sixteen, but he was already about as tall as Rick and Shane, and steadily filling out with muscle as he got older. "We're just survivors. There's nothing fucking more to it."

And he had promised Mom he would survive.

Even when they were starving and struggling for food, Dad always made sure Logan had something, anything, even if it didn't fill his stomach all the way. He could respect the Sheriff and his Deputy as leaders and fathers in their own right, but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking on the best way to stomp them into the dirt.

" 'The hardest hearts are forged in fire; the weakest bend under their will. And revenge … is wicked sweet.' "