Summary: You left home to get away from the normalcy, only to end up in a foreign country not knowing that the world was beginning to end.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female (sorta nun) reader
A/N: this is my first attempt at writing a fanfic bc i cant seem to find any about him in france and if you have found any tag me plss 😭 i had to resort to making my own instead. lmk if anyone is even interested in a part 2 this is basically just a teaser i promise it will have smut if 1 person interacts with this. even if nobody interacts ima still post part 2 bc wtf am i doing hoarding this in my notes app.
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The first time you saw him you had a strange feeling about him. As if you knew who he was. As he floated on top of the boat that seemed to be capsized, a measly tied rope that hardly held his body to the boat, you weren't sure what his name was, but you had a gut feeling, you knew it had to be him. The one to get you home.
You followed him, watched as the man washed up on the shore, confused, but seemingly determined.
The sisters might be right, you thought to yourself. Isabelle might be right.
You met Isabelle after the world began decaying, finding refuge at the convent. It wasn't really your first choice, staying at the convent, but in this world, beggars can't be choosers. You thought maybe immersing yourself into religion might help take your mind off everything that happened to you, everything going on outside.
Many of the nuns at the abbey didn't see you as one of them, despite you doing everything possible to fit in, as much as a fake nun could. You never were religious like the rest of them, which made everyone turn their heads away from you. Religion came easy to them, meanwhile with you, well, you hadn't given it much thought.
To this day it's still in the back of your mind, chipping away at you, the guilt of not being a big enough believer in God. How could you believe in a higher power if this is what the world has succumbed to? How could anything good let all the people you loved, cared about, die such gruesome deaths? Always a constant back and forth battle you had going on in your mind.
Sister Isabelle confided in you, telling you about Laurent, and how she needed to find someone to deliver him to Paris. The whole messiah thing seemed like such a crazy thing to wrap your head around, but you still offered your help in anyway you could. After all, you knew she would do anything for you and the rest of the nuns. That and you needed to get out of France. It was your one chance, you finally had a good enough reason to leave the abbey and try to find your way back home.
Hanging up the small poster of the Union Isabelle made, you watched as the man with the wings on his back took an abandoned boat as his shelter for the night. Hopefully he would still be there by the time you got back tomorrow.
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"Isabelle, I am telling you, I saw him." you pleaded. You stood in the now-quiet kitchen, eyes wide, but barely visible due to the small lantern you held up.
"Je t'ai dit de ne pas y aller seul," Isabelle whispered, "I told you not to go alone out there, what if he had seen you? Or followed you?"
"He didn't, okay? Please Isabelle, I know what everyone here thinks about me and my faith, but I know it, he's the one that can help us take Laurent." you spoke quietly but urgently, as to not wake up the rest of the sisters.
"No, we know nothing of this man, maybe he is already out there walking amongst the dead, or worse, he might just be here to steal from us and kill us all. You will not go back out there, especially alone, do you understand?" Isabelle spoke, her hand coming to rub her forehead, smoothing the frown lines forming.
Sighing, you nod your head, peering down at the drawing.
"Good, now get some sleep." Isabelle turned away, heading back to sleep.
Even if deep down, you didn't believe that Laurent was the messiah, you still had the need to find out more about this man.
The next morning you came back to where you had last seen the man, hoping he was still out there.
You watched and followed as he got up and began packing his things, setting out to wander the land.
You also saw how he had got himself into trouble with the young woman and older man, seeing how he fought off the men from the Pouvoir des Vivants, as best as he could. You watched from a distance until you saw how they robbed him blind, injuring him long enough for them to get away.
You ran up to him, kneeling before watching him pass out from the blows to the head and quite probably the dehydration.
You carried, or more so, dragged his limp body to your small carriage you brought with you, hoping he wouldn't be what Isabelle said he was.
You were dreading having to explain to Isabelle why you had brought this man to the abbey after she so explicitly told you not to engage with him, let alone bring him into your homes.
"Qu'est-ce que je t'ai dit? Why did you have to bring him back here?" Isabelle raised her eyebrows at you as she held the hot poker towards his arm.
"Perdóname, no supe que hacer, I had no choice he was injured" you said and you rounded to the opposite side of the bed.
"Hold his arm down, and cover his mouth." Isabelle said as she looked at you with a glare you were sure was the maddest you have ever seen her.
He screamed into the cloth you had placed between his teeth as he writhed and she held the hot metal to his arm where the mutated undead had burned him.
His grunts and pained yelling made something inside you feel horrible, the pain he was in almost made you feel as terrible as it seemed to pain him.
His anguished face combined with the peaceful singing of the nuns down the hall swarmed your senses, until he coughed and passed out once more.
"Listen to me, I know you didn't mean for all this to happen, I get that, and I understand he was hurt. But you better pray that he will be able to deliver Laurent, it's what he needs, deserves." Isabelle said after she wrapped the man's arm, who you had come to learn his name was Daryl Dixon from the tape you found in his pack.
"I will, Isabelle. I'll make it my life's mission to get that boy to Paris." you said quietly as to not wake up Daryl, who had begun to snore softly in the bed below you.
"Very well. Now help me prepare the bath for him, he's going to need it once he wakes up." Isabelle walked away to fetch a kettle of water to fill up the bath.
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a/n: yall pls dont be mad i tried my best i know its shitty writing but i dont have anything to lose.
also im open to suggestions or if you guys wanna see a certain trope or scene play along u tell me ill do my best to make it come true on paper 😪
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