landslide

[rhys alexander greyback]

mirror in the sky, what is love?

can the child within my heart rise above?
can i sail through the changing ocean tides?
can i handle the seasons of my life?

Wales
January 20, 2026

Rhys bit the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit from when he was young, but that would reappear every so often. A week had passed since he’d visited the apothecary and caught up with Sienna—he’d told her about the Island and stocked up on calming draughts and Maria’s potions. She was kind enough, too kind really, so far to be keeping his secret. It was a complex situation he still had yet to find a solution for, but one that he knew could wait. For now, his time on the Island was done, although he was not looking forward to the possibility of going back whether it was Order or Bank business—floating as he had was not ideal. Overall, those days and all those nights he’d never felt more disconnected from anything in his life. The sand from that red beach had been just below his feet, and yet he could reach it without making a fool of himself. The relief that had swept over him when his boots made contact with the dirt, and he was able to grab the sand with his own two hands, it had been enough to leave Rhys feeling a bit emotional.

Not that he would ever admit that out loud. The experience had shaken him if only exacerbated the loneliness he denied he ever felt. But it was said and done now. He supposed he was lucky that he was “back to normal”. Whatever that actually meant, and in comparison to some of his colleagues or other Order members who still had afflictions of their own. Rhys had paid one last visit to St. Mungo’s, which included more poking, prodding, and tests to ensure his health and more employees with temperments too similar to his own. On paper, he had excellent health, except for his lycanthropy, of course, but Rhys knew the truth. Rhys took a deep breath with his eyes closed for a moment. It didn’t matter how much time he spent in London or around the world. He knew the smell of home. With a stoic expression, he walked across the grass, his footsteps were soft against the morning dew, but he was alone as well. Walking past the rows of headstones, he finally approached his destination.

The headstone was simple. It was the default for the cemetery unless you could afford something that stood out a little more. But, in this village, few could afford more than that, and his mother certainly hadn’t been one of them. As a single mother, she kept food on the table and a roof of their head, and Rhys was supposed to grow up as a normal little boy would have in this village and none the wiser on his heritage. Rhys read the chiseled words. They didn’t look new anymore, as some of the headstones he had passed but were worn from the rain, wind, and other weather that passed. ’In Loving Memory’. Rhys swallowed, feeling the lump form in his throat. It was the greatest mystery to him how he could feel such pain and loss from someone he had lost twenty years ago and who he could barely remember without the photograph he kept of her. And he hardly spoke of her to anyone. Rhys had been almost five years old when she was killed, and most days, the passing thought didn’t bother him, but reality had reopened that wound. Maybe it was like how he felt the loss of Elias even now despite having known him less than a year and even less than the siblings who were still at Hogwarts during that time.

Rhys thought about the past few years, he had lived his life as he always had, and for the first time, he had almost felt on top of the world. It had been a point in his life where he had a career he enjoyed, his best friends with him and his family—his brothers and sisters. When Elias had been named a Champion, the name “Greyback” said in such a positive way—how could Rhys not be proud? While Rhys had visited during that school year when he could, it had been hard to get away from work as much as he had liked. Still, he’d made it for the end of the year and then immediately went off to work. It was then that things seemed to decline, seemed to all go wrong. A few days into a Middle Eastern cave dig, he was finally reached with an urgent letter. It didn’t say much but only that Elias was gone. His brother was dead. It wasn’t something that hit him right away as if just to compartmentalize it enough to not fall apart and push forward with his work, at least. It had helped meeting Dahlia that year. Not that Elias could be replaced, but it helped to have someone who could possibly understand him just a little bit nearby for a while.

Rhys took another deep breath and crouched down, and pulled out his wand. The flowers sitting in the little metal holder were long dead, perhaps from when Rhys had last visited a few months before. It had been quite the shock when Claire had told him the Heliopath safehouse was from the area he was born in, so he needed little explanation on how to get there. It would have been easy to transfigure the dead flowers into new and colorful ones, but he typically opted to buy fresh ones from the village. He muttered Evanesco and they were gone. Rhys placed the yellow flowers into the little metal opening—one thing he distinctly remembered was his mother had loved yellow flowers. There was always the faint memory in his mind of his mother with her long curly hair, kind smile, and he always tried to hold on to that memory because the only other one he had was the face filled with fear from his nightmares.

Rhys stood up, putting his wand away and sticking his hands in his jacket pockets. Glancing around, he confirmed he was still alone and didn’t want anyone to see him talking to himself. When he had been younger, someone had told him that it helped to speak out loud as if the person was in front of you, as if the dead could hear you if you spoke audibly instead of in your thoughts. Rhys still found it a bit silly, but it had helped him gather some of his thoughts on rare occasions. He cleared his throat and said the first thing that popped into his head. ”I’m—I’m going to be a father.” Maria’s face popped in his head, but not her usual expression of mischief and almost fearlessness, but an expression that was softer and even a bit calm. Like the times they had just sat and talked. While it was rare for them to simply talk as they were both very good at shoving down what they were feeling, sometimes there wasn’t the energy to do so, but it was okay. Maria could understand the pain Rhys felt from the scars he’d been left with, she didn’t judge him for it, and Rhys could understand Maria on that level as well. ”In the summertime.” He added, from what they could tell, the baby was due in early July.

The Seer’s prophecy still stood out in his mind. It had frightened him at that time when he’d felt particularly vulnerable and lost. As if that was supposed to help him clear his head. ” It's not what I planned…but I promised her I’d be there.” As his own mother had done with him when she’d been attacked, and he’d been conceived, even when an entire village’s eyes were on her, and he was sure there was pressure for a different action. She had brought him into a world that did not want him, where he was not welcome because of who his father was. She had loved him when nobody else would. Rhys paused, he felt silly talking to essentially himself, but he shook his head as he organized his thoughts. Anyone else might have said something like you would like her, actually, but Rhys really couldn’t tell if that was true or not. All he knew was that their relationship had and was still somewhat simple. ”Maria—she gets what it's like. To live with the voids others left behind.” Rhys stopped, shifting his weight on his feet. The lump in his throat was back, emotion building up behind it. ”She…she doesn’t try to fill them or replace anyone. She’s just herself, and she doesn’t judge me or fix me like everybody else does. And I don’t with her either.” Even his closest friends, with their best intentions, still tried. Rhys supposed he should appreciate that they cared enough too, but at some point, it wasn’t what he needed from them. It had destroyed his last relationship, hadn't it? The only other person on the planet who truly knew Rhys. 

Rhys closed his eyes, he knew it wasn’t his mother’s fault for his life and situation, and yet all he could feel was that strange wavering pain in his chest and just anger. Looking around again, nobody was visiting the cemetery at this hour, it seemed. It was good to have the privacy and because he wasn’t sure what else to say out loud now. It was strange how quickly Maria had gone from a perfect stranger and a one-night stand to someone significant to him. Rhys cared about her, though he knew he wasn’t in love with her by any means. But she was the mother of his child, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He sighed. He wasn’t sure what else to say as he only ever had questions after trying. What would his mother think of him now? What would she make of the man her son had grown into? Would she be proud of him? She’d likely wonder why he was so angry, so temperamental, instead of the nice little boy that used to run around on any of the beaches they would visit and smile and laugh. Rhys never figured himself the friendly type or even easy to talk to—though he could hear Vasilia’s voice in his head when she told him ’I don’t think you’re unfriendly.’ It was an odd year between the two women and how chance meetings had created significant relationships in his life. It had been so long since Rhys had felt that connection with anyone.

Maybe the older he got, the less tolerance he had for the judgment of his friends. Their questions, their comments about his ambition only leading him to the bottom of a pint glass. This was just who he was, this was his life, and he didn’t see any reason to change all of it at once. Besides, it was one of the few things that kept him calm enough to not run off to a different country again when he felt that overwhelming sense of panic, though seeing Maria’s couch on fire had also been convincing enough. Maria didn’t judge him because they were so similar in so many ways, and Vasilia didn’t judge him because she chose to see Rhys and not Fenrir’s oldest son—always a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Juniper had seen him to his core but they had been so young. Rhys stared a few more seconds at the grave decided it was time to go. Though he still paused because he wasn’t sure where to go next for a second. The safehouse was nearby. Rhys remembered he had to review some notes regarding the Island, and while he wasn’t in the mood for people particularly, it had to be done.

The safehouse had existed since the inception of Heliopath, or at least that was what he gathered from Claire’s description after he had agreed to join. However, after that surprise meeting at that pub where Harry Potter himself addressed them, all things had gotten a bit reorganized. It was probably more of a shock to Rhys than most people in either faction at the time. With his name, he never expected to be in the same room as a Potter, especially when his brother had turned his youngest child and only daughter into a werewolf. The bigger surprise had been the random but short conversation he’d engaged in with James Potter at the bar that day. There was a significant age gap between the men, so Rhys didn’t really remember him from Hogwarts—not that he was going out of his way to befriend any Weasleys or Potters considering his namesake. Rhys walked out of the cemetery and into an area covered with trees for cover and where he could apparate in case there were any muggles nearby.

Shortly after, Rhys appeared outside of what seemed to be an old and run-down cottage. At least, that’s what non-Order members would see. He walked toward it and stepped inside, where it was anything but old and run-down. Hearing voices laughing, he saw other members there, and he nodded at them as a quick greeting before making a left into the library. It was a “library” in terms of it was a room with some books in it and storage space for notes and a place to study essentially. Before the Order reunification, this room was not used by many in Heliopath—which was good for Rhys as he had a place to hide while the Aurors and others argued about the next steps—and argued loudly. He’d witnessed at least one duel and one fistfight in the short amount of time he’d spent with the organization. But, he’d reluctantly left the Island in his cursed state for a couple days to bring back the information on the runes that had been found on the statues that circled the Island and also to note down what Eeva had told him.

Rhys shuffled some papers around as they had been shuffled out of order, not immediately noticing the tall and messy-haired man that walked in. ”Rhys! I thought I saw you walk in.” Rhys paused and looked up to see the bright and beaming face of James Potter. And while his outward appearance was stoic as ever, Rhys would never admit he felt a slight bit of anxiety being around someone with such a famous name. Then again, he wondered if that was how people felt around him and his own infamous name. ”You were on the Island right? How was it? Dad and Bianca have done everything short of using a permanent sticky charm on me and a chair to stop me from going.” James explained, running a hand through his already messy hair and crossing his arms, but his expression showed a clear frustration. ”You aren’t missing much.” Rhys spoke as he placed the papers back down on the desk. ”I mean, you’re better off not going—trust me.” Rhys hoped his stern explanation

James gave him a curious look, almost as though he didn’t believe him. ”Everybody keeps telling me that…I still don’t think it’s a good look if Harry’s son doesn’t go to this spooky island.” Rhys gave him an apologetic shrug before pausing what he was doing to speak again. ”The magic is unlike anything I’ve encountered…some of us have or had some uh—side effects.” Rhys contemplated his own experience with literally floating. ”Have you run into Claire?” At that comment, Rhys almost couldn’t hide his slight grin. Considering her state, it was almost impossible to run into Claire after visiting the Island, and he could only imagine the frustration. James immediately flashed a big smile and laughed loudly. ”Well that explains that she wouldn’t tell me why she’d been acting so strangely.” James shook his head in amusement before looking back at Rhys. ”So what happened to you then?” Rhys froze for a split second as he felt his face warm but also go pale at the same time. ”I uh—I’d rather not say. But I had it handled…” He mumbled before clearing his throat and shuffling more papers.

”I uh—have to organize these notes for Cas.” Rhys spoke, looking down, finding all the relevant paperwork with the runes he knew so far. The work had been slow and tedious, but they were making incredibly slow progress. ”You Cursebreakers and your ruins, I’ll leave you to it then.” James leaned forward to glance at the paperwork before flashing another smile as he walked out the room. Rhys could hear him engaging in conversation with somebody else, and he quickly finished organizing his papers. Rhys hoped with the combined forces of himself, Cas and Jasper, and whoever else had a relevant background, they could crack this code. If you had asked Rhys if he would have ever considered joining such a group as the Order of the Phoenix or Heliopath at the age of twelve or thirteen, he would have laughed. A Greyback had no business in such a place, nor would he likely be welcome, but yet here he was. The catalyst for his recruitment had been his connection to members such as Claire and events such as the Quidditch pitch explosion that had almost cost the lives of several siblings. It had all hit a little too close to home.

Rhys finished up his work quickly, satisfied that things were in order and ready to be passed to his former trainers and mentors, though now that still left him with time in the day to kill. He could go to the local pub here, but while almost two decades had passed, there were still some of the older eyes that glared at him where he went—recognizing those eyes that had once terrorized his home and its residents. Taking the lives of those that had just tried to help. But then another idea popped into his head—the Museum.

The Museum had been something he remembered as a child and only because he’d visit whenever he had gotten the opportunity. Despite growing up in an orphanage, it was hardly a jail, and it was seen as an educational activity for the children to participate in. The history, the stories, and the items had fascinated him, and while his primary goal in school had been to be an Auror Curse Breaking had turned out to be his true calling. It wasn’t enough that where he was born, he grew up with the stories of King Arthur. The Museum had been a place of wonder and lots of shiny things to occupy the kid's attention. Rhys turned and began walking out of the cemetery, though toward a secluded clearing that was about a five-minute walk away where he could safely apparate without anyone seeing him. There were many magical folks in this area, but it was always best to be safe in a passing muggle. Rhys had learned to be wary of such things through his work and what Deva had told him about her work.

When he reappeared, Rhys was standing in front of Merlin’s Mystical Museum of Magic, and he paused at the familiar sign and the slow trickle of people walking in and out of its front doors. Naturally, it was enchanted, so muggles did not notice it or interfere with those walking in and out of the building. Rhys had been fascinated by the phenomena as a boy though now he knew it was simply a web of complex charms that any major magical institution had. Rhys walked through the front door, pausing to pay the entrance fee as he pulled a combination of coins out of his pocket, and the entrance charm was momentarily disabled to let him pass. It wasn’t terribly crowded, Rhys could hear the low buzz of all the combined conversations nearby, but it was at just the right volume to tune it out. He’d told Sienna about the Museum and how he’d like to visit as a boy—just many of the random conversations over the past year as he was her and Rob’s test subject for their potion.

Though, as Rhys walked down the wide hallway as he paused to look at the ancient Egyptian artifacts that had been collected over the centuries—he recalled their last conversation a few days previously. She’d done the usual comment about his drinking, his lack of an enthusiastic greeting, and then he asked about the owner of the pub he apparently so frequently mentioned. Naturally, he’d stuck with his denial he had carried since before Christmas, but she was insistent. Rhys walked a few steps and stopped in front of an old and large palette. The hieroglyphics described ancient spells. However, the tablet was incomplete as it had broken along the way. It was probably for the best as whatever spell was written on this palette could have been dangerous, a blood curse for all he knew, but as he read the short description that was near the display, it stated that it hadn’t been fully deciphered yet. Rhys had come across items such as this in his work, although the last palette he had seen like this had been complete but had also almost gotten him killed. Just as he had told Dahlia, he avoided Egypt for a few reasons and one of them being he typically ended up injured in some way when he worked there.

Rhys put his hands back in his jacket pockets and continued to slowly stroll. He hadn’t gone back to the apothecary since that conversation, though Rhys knew he would need to soon—perhaps he would get lucky, and Rob would be working. He didn’t ask any prying questions, but Sienna’s words had touched a nerve. But it had been in the way that a specific thought had been brought up to Rhys, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Rhys kept walking, stopping now and then to read the descriptions of items he knew he hadn’t seen before or occasionally re-reading artifact descriptions for items that had been there long that he’d been alive. There was a family that had stopped in front of a display of Canopic Jars, which were typical of an Egyptian tomb, but these had been cursed and had almost taken down three Curse Breakers upon their discovery. The display case was similar to glass, but spells had been cast to counteract any possible curse or effect of being near it, so it was safe.

The family was a father holding his young daughter before placing her down on the ground where she could excitedly walk around. Rhys would guess that her age was about three or so. Running around from a corner ahead of them was a small boy, maybe about six or seven, with big blue eyes. They were full of wonder and excitement as he eagerly spoke to his father and sister in what amounted to a very quickly spoken run-on sentence in a single breath. Rhys watched out of the corner of his eye as he looked at a display of an Egyptian crook that had been initially cursed. The description described the curse and its effects—apparently, the Curse Breaker in training who had unfortunately found it had been covered in boils very quickly. However, his trainer had managed to mostly counteract the curse. The father smiled at his son and then glanced at his daughter, who had begun to wander away, he quickly walked over and grabbed her hand, and he paused his son’s excited explanation of some Arthurian relics he had seen to show him the Jars on display.

It wasn’t the first time Rhys had seen a family at the Museum or even a family interacting in public. There had been plenty of times he’d watched his friends interact with their families or even when he’d visit his siblings who had their own half-siblings and step-fathers. But there was something about this particular interaction that gave him pause. Was it because fatherhood was just over the horizon for him? Or was it the Seer’s words that still run in his head from time to time? ”Your children are lovely.” Rhys still recalled the four simple words that had just about given him a heart attack where he sat. According to what she had seen in the crystal ball, Rhys didn’t just have a single child but children—plural. The thought still left him with an incredibly uncomfortable feeling, though his eyes seemed to factor into it all. So far, only he and Dahlia had inherited their father’s eyes. Fenrir’s blue eyes. And it seemed Rhys was certain to pass them on to his own offspring.

Fatherhood and a family such as the one next to him at the Museum had been such a pipe dream for him. At one point when the thought of a serious commitment like marriage wasn't scaring him to death he had almost pictured it. Would the kids get her dark blue eyes or his light ones? They used to laugh, talk and just be with one another. And then one day it came crumbling down as they ignored the cracks in the foundation. And it had taken a long time and a lot of whiskey to come to terms with that. To come to terms with what he couldn't understand at the time. All he remembered was the immense pain he felt and the panic of being alone again. Rhys hadn't been blind either, Juniper had hardly been popular with his closest friends. The sympathy wasn't there, at least not what he was looking for and he found it at the bottom of a bottle instead. And he searched for answers there. Why had the one person who knew Rhys, like a book--cover to cover. Why did she leave? But he supposed they had just been too young. Aside from both their faults, their timing had ruined them.

The boy’s eyes lit up as his father explained the jars' significance and purpose and the magic behind why they were on exhibit. The little girl began to try and squirm free of her father’s grip, longing for the freedom of the open Museum and her unbounded curiosity. Instead, her father picked her up once more and pointed at the artifact next to the jars, which had less of a tragic history and had more gold to capture her attention. Rhys observed how calm he was with the children, and he thought about what kind of father he would be? That’s what had scared him, why he had gone and sought solace with Deva. How was one expected to parent when they never had any? Rhys thought about his mother. He’d been so young when she was taken from him. How did he make sure his children never felt the things he had or felt the emptiness he carried around for so many years. When Rhys took a step back and looked at it all, he’d essentially learned he only had a sibling when he was seventeen. So, seventeen years of thinking he was alone in this world—the only offspring of such an infamous monster and only grateful he had the handful of friends that had taken pity on him in first year and befriended him.

When the father and his children began to walk away and turn the corner, Rhys turned his head a little more and watched until they were out of sight. There was a slight sadness in his eyes where many years ago there would have been envy. The same old questions came back to his mind, the ones he had tried to stop thinking about because they had no answer. What kind of childhood would he have had if his mother hadn’t been killed? Would he had found out a different way that Fenrir was his father? Maybe he would have had a step-father at some point and half-siblings like Max. All the things he had dreamed of as a kid. These things are why he had been so insistent with Maria that he was not going anywhere, and Rhys was not going to let his child feel what he had felt and still felt if he could help it. It wasn’t the perfect family dynamic by any means—parents who were not together and a very eclectic bunch of aunts and uncles in Rhys’ half-siblings. Not to mention all the technically non-related aunts and uncles there would be as well, hell even a connection to the Potters as Lily had become almost another younger sister to him since she was close to his brother.

Really it was only himself, Maria, and the Healers at St. Mungo’s that knew. Rhys hadn’t quite figured out a way to tell his siblings yet or even his closest friends. It was a good amount of stress on his plate currently and one that grew daily. He supposed by this point Sienna and Rob knew, though it had been an unspoken thing since December. It was uncanny how observant she was, though he figured it had helped with the Aware Wolf testing. And while he fully expected her to drill him on the details of this pregnancy, he was constantly picking up potions, for she instead dialed in on his friendship with Vasilia Fortescue. Rhys kept walking, exiting the area of Egyptian Artifacts and entering the hall full of Ancient Greek artifacts. This had been Jasper’s area of expertise, and Jasper had been one of his trainers after Casimir had left the profession. Many had joked that Rhys and Renfri had driven him out, but Rhys never quite figured out why he had left. But now, Jasper and Renfri were both out of the profession due to injury sustained on the job and were now teaching at Hogwarts. It seemed like the common and likely place for Curse Breakers to end up. With the level of NEWTs required and the advanced training in charms, curses, jinxes, ancient runes, and history, it seemed the perfect place to go if one didn’t go into the Ministry or writing of some sort. Rhys wasn’t sure what he would do if he ended up too injured to work. He’d gotten close but fortunately was able to get back on his feet.

Rhys paused in front of an extensive exhibit of various vases, each depicting scenes from Greek mythology. These had also been cursed in some fashion, though a minor curse, and only activated if one was clumsy enough to kick one over when reaching for whatever items were placed behind them. While these items weren’t typically found in tombs and, more often, ruins, especially those of temples that had magic. The type of magic or curse depended on the deity, and he thought about his experience in the tombs in Crimea with Jasper and one of the few experiences with Pirates that he had. Rhys had talked about all of those experiences with Rob and Sienna naturally, not by choice but more since his nightmares had been escalated briefly as a side effect of the potion for a while. Now that he thought about it, Rhys had told them both quite a lot—though it didn’t bother him now. They had both become good friends.

As he made his way through the various exhibits, he occasionally saw more families also touring the Museum. Some with older kids and some with younger, and all different ages. It was difficult not to think about his family and his future and the questions it brought him. While he knew he would be the father to at least one child, he wondered where the other ones came from in the Seer’s vision. Blue eyes, he would pass on his blue eyes, but that was all she had given him and the certainty that she had seen something from the future and not the past. It was just another stressful thought. He was terrified of one child, let alone many, and he wondered what did that mean for Maria since she was carrying the first one. Were they to have more? While he hadn’t talked about the vision with anyone, he was not about to bring it up now and certainly not to Maria. Rhys was still not forgiven for his little vacation the previous year, and she had already tried to set him on fire once before.

Rhys soon grew tired of the growing crowd and the noise and inability to even hear himself think. He skipped the hall of Arthurian relics and left the Museum. Apparating as soon as he left the door, he reappeared at a beach. The salty breeze immediately blew through his curly hair, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the cold feeling on his face. As a boy, Rhys had enjoyed coming to the beach. The water was too cold to really enjoy, but it was more the peace and quiet that came with being here. It was not crowded this time of year, and Rhys walked down a beaten path in the grass until his shoes touched on packed sand with pebbles strewn about. Rhys stopped and picked up one of the larger stones, feeling the smoothness before dropping it back on the ground. He walked parallel to the water for a while until he found what was essentially a natural small stone wall, or at least something he could sit on for a moment. 

He listened to the waves crash against the beach. He was too far away to feel the spray one might feel with the tide this strong. It was cold but being a werewolf had its advantages when his body temperature typically ran warm, so he wasn’t uncomfortable. Rhys had forgotten what a nice place it was to stop and think. Maybe he should have run off here instead of Egypt last November and saved himself a lot of trouble for it. Even sitting here now, he felt a lot calmer than when he had arrived, which was a rare state for Rhys—for anyone that knew him. He was the brooding type, always in a mood, and even when he looked calm, it might be some bout of depression or even a wave of anger so great it was just seething. Most that saw his anger were the trainees assigned to him or at least the idiot ones. Fortunately, there were more good trainees than bad such as Dahlia or Irina, but he preferred to deal with second-year trainees if he could help it. By that point, if they had lasted until their second year, they were usually reliable and proved themselves to be above average intelligence in Rhys’ opinion.

With his mind quieting down, he thought about Sienna’s words again. She had placed this thought in his head that he hadn’t been able to shake or forget no matter how hard he tried, and really his attempt here today was to calm his mind and tell himself it wasn’t what she said it was. They were just friends, that was it? Did Rhys enjoy spending time with her—yes, he did. He would admit that. There weren’t that many people that Rhys opened up to, or was that social around or at least it had been a long time. He could admit that to himself and others. Rhys thought about the basket she had left him, the first one with the full moon earlier this month. It had been such a kind and simple gesture, some food (naturally) and cookies with the frosting he had picked out before Christmas and that fun few hours they had spent together. But Rhys found time to spend with his good friends when he was home, that wasn’t unusual for him, so why would spending time with Vasilia be unusual.

Then again, even Maria had made a small remark about the Violet Hound. Rhys hadn’t really thought about it at the time since he went there often to drink and he’d met Maria there the year before. What was the big deal? She was a kind, thoughtful and generous person, and Rhys remembered the time he had run into her at another pub drinking, and she had barely smiled—or at least not the smile he was used to seeing when he walked into her pub. While she had gone through the motions that day, there wasn’t the same light in her eyes or joy in her face that typically lit up the room. It had been forced and dull, and he remembered feeling concerned. So, Rhys sat with her and talked to her much as she had done for him. Though she had definitely helped him more than she had her. Such as the time Vasilia had taken care of him after he’d blacked out from drinking for pretty much three days straight. Even to this day, she still wouldn’t tell him anything they talked about, and while he wasn’t worried about trusting her with whatever he may have said, he still felt strange not knowing.

Was it like his relationship with Maria? Just as he had been describing to his mother’s grave earlier in the day, though he wasn’t convinced talking out loud to a grave actually worked. While Vasilia may not have judged him, Rhys wasn’t convinced she could possibly ever understand him. Though he would never hope she could so easily. Maria could understand him. Though only because of the trauma in her own past. And as much as he craved the connection, he would never wish that pain on anyone. People needed a connection. With Juniper they both had been isolated from their peers, attached to famous names. But they'd chosen to look past that. With Maria they shared the void of Elias and nobody to really count on. What was his connection to Vasilia? Because Rhys was certain that he hadn't felt his stomach flip like that since he stood in that Astronomy Tower on Christmas Eve at sixteen.

Rhys took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was tired. The memory of the basket left on his doorstep resurfaced in his mind, and he now recalled it all a bit differently. That day had been a hectic one and also the full moon, so his mood was already sour. But that simple gesture had lifted his spirits in a way that he hadn’t felt in some time and even rarely that time of the month. ’Dammit.’ He thought. There wasn’t anymore denying it. It was the same warm feeling in his chest he’d felt with Juniper a long time ago. But it was the same, in its own way. While he could already see the glee in Sienna’s face, the realization that she had been so right about this and while he was slowly coming to terms all of the past year went through his mind but from a new perspective. At this point, Rhys was so occupied by his thoughts that he didn’t even register the sound of the seagulls flying by or the waves crashing on the stony beach. But it still felt as though one of those waves of cold Atlantic water had hit him with a full force. Si was right—all those chats at the pub, the long conversations outside of his normal pub visits, even stopping by the Ice Cream parlor hoping to see her and going out of his way to find a Christmas gift…a perfect Christmas gift. Rhys stared off into the horizon as he shook his head.

Dammit.

He had feelings for Vasilia Fortescue.

There was a flutter in his chest, which only seemed to confirm the fact. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Vas. He did—they were friends. But, she was also the younger sister of one of his closest friends and one of his longtime friends. As an older brother himself, he wondered how it might feel if Ilija suddenly began courting Dahlia or Max. However, he wondered what kind of snarky response Dahlia would deliver if that were the case. He supposed that in itself was something that could be accepted. However, the rest of his life added more complexity. What would he tell Vas about Maria? That he was expecting a child that summer, but he wasn’t in love with the child’s mother—they were friends. It sounded ridiculous in his head, and he knew it would sound even more if he ever said those words out loud. Rhys rubbed his hands over his face and stood up—his anxiety was making him fidgety.

Walking back up the beach and up the sand to the path he had entered, he went over a few small grassy hills until he could apparate where he had arrived in the first place. The temperature shift from the beach in Wales to his flat was immediately apparent. It was still a bit cold but without the breeze in his face adding to the chill. He entered his flat, not stepping over a basket on his doorstep this time, and he took off his jacket to toss on his chair in the dining room as he made a beeline to his kitchen for a clean glass and whiskey. Very quickly, he drank what amounted to a double whiskey, savoring the burning in the back of his dry throat as he thought about his realization again. Rhys liked Vasilia, he liked her, and again the flutter was back. There wasn’t any way she liked him back, though—a slight pressure in his chest formed as the thought. Surely his reputation preceded him. He wasn’t any good for a nice girl like her and let alone with a child on the way.

As far as Rhys was concerned, someone wonderful like Vas deserved the best, and he simply knew he wasn’t that. Rhys poured more whiskey in the glass, though he paused when he put the bottle back down on the counter. He stared at the amber liquid as if waiting for it to tell him what to do. But it did what whiskey always did, nothing. The alcohol didn’t judge him, it didn’t speak, and it was less of a risk than any of these feelings he was trying to push down at the moment. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the glass and drank it all at once. A lot had happened today. A lot had been realized. Rhys now had new feelings to contend with and figure out how to manage them with the least amount of pain possible. Looking back at the bottle on the counter, it was only a quarter way full—he would need more whiskey.

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