"That was unusually cruel, Alaric." Rhys said as he picked up his pace to catch up to his friend who stalked down the hallway. The other students parting like they were grass and he was the wind.

"You've got to be cruel to be kind sometimes Rhys. What I did was mercy." He half-mumbled, coming to a stop to the exit of the school, before pushing the doors open and making his way down the steps.

Rhys found himself slowly growing out of breath as he pumped his legs in a bid to keep up with Alaric's powerful stride. The man was determined, angry, and frustrated. People could see his seething countenance coming in their path and actively diverted around the pair as they walked down the concrete foot path.

"How was that mercy? You pulled her close only to shatter her heart." Rhys questioned, coming to a stop with a gasp as Alaric rounded on him. The smoky blue of his eyes seemed to burn into the hazel reaches of Rhys' own in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.

"Know this: There are two reasons as to why Rebecca is not dead in this instance. One: You're not dead. Usually that wouldn't matter, but your whiny disapproval is something that I currently do not have the patience to put up with. But make no mistake, Rhys. I would've butchered her and not even wasted the energy to drink from her if what she did to you had proven fatal. They all knew that you and the rest of the guys were out of bounds. The fact that she isn't dead, should serve as a testament to my mercy. Secondly: because she is alive, I have to make sure that she won't come looking for me and hopefully abandon the chance of this life. She cannot act like she did, or keep looking for me if I wish her to remain safe from whatever asshole it is that keeps hunting people like us."

The eye contact remained a constant throughout the words that rumbled from the husky voice of Alaric. Rhys would've given pause for thought about how he could so casually talk of murder in a place with pedestrians passing by so often. But instead he felt weighted to the ground, and pulled into a focus on Alaric that forced the entire world around them to shrink into nothing as if they were in a vacuum. He was crumbling. Like he had eaten the spine of Atlas and now the world was crushing him.

Rhys couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Alaric. He didn't know what caused him to be under so much more stress than the rest of them. Alaric was reserved and closed off. Rhys wanted to do everything he could to relieve his friend of whatever was burdening him. But he needed answers, and this sympathy did nothing to stop him asking his next question.

"What about Marie?" Rhys' voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, like it was a sordid secret that was blasphemous to speak. He watched as Alaric's eyes softened somewhat, a flicker of what Rhys thought could be regret passed briefly over the glistening orbs before they grew distant once again, and Alaric straightened his back, as if bracing himself.

"She wasn't as strong as I thought. When I did what I did to them, I hadn't taken it as seriously as I should have. I wanted companionship. I wanted to play. I cared for them, but I never meant forever. I never really intended to turn them into something like me. But I thought; out of all of them, she would've made the best partner."

"Would've?"

"She couldn't bare to be without me."

"Alaric, what did you do? You can tell me." Rhys hesitantly urged onwards, although the thought of what Alaric could've done sent a sickeningly cold shiver up his spine.

"At least that's what I thought. Until she mentioned my blood. It's always about the blood." Alaric sighed, his shoulders slumping somewhat in defeat before he combed his fingers through his hair and crossed his arms.

"What happened?"

"When it became clear, that's what she really wanted. I drained her dry, Rhys. Took all she had in one. Final. Kiss."

His words seemed to suck all the air, all the sound, from the pair of them. So much so that the silence was suffocating as they watched for the words to settle between them. Alaric failed to restrain his hurt expression as he looked at Rhys who no longer saw his lifelong friend in front of him. But a monster. The slight widening of his eyes in a look of muted horror, the agape mouth he hurriedly shut in a thin line that flexed as he clenched his jaw. Each subtle hint of body language cut with a blade forged of shame.

He was never sure why, but since Yasmine's death: out of them all, Rhys had been the one who's judgement he feared most. Alaric found himself enamoured with every word Rhys said, like his tongue formed the sweetest ambrosia which held the universe' best kept secret. So when he got the message that one of his own had almost killed Rhys; he was ready to rip the entire town to shreds in revenge.

The silence seemed as if it was to exist for the rest of Alaric's immortal life, when the strangest thing happened to Rhys' expression. It softened. After going through a myriad of thoughts, it seemed to change. Almost like it was understanding. He wasn't holding the warm and welcome smile that was often the norm. Instead it was a complicit, almost neutral look. A world of emotions rushed through Alaric. Anger, confusion. How could Rhys possibly, suddenly, just get it? But then came a nerve of fear ringing his bones hollow at the questions he knew were about to come from those thin lips of his.

"What's going on, Alaric? You've always been distant, sure, but you're never cruel. One minute I've never felt closer to you, and the next you're leaving us to potentially fend off a hunter. Tell me, Alaric. Please." There was a hint of desperation in Rhys' tone as he raked his fingers through the curls of his hair and folded his arms across his chest, somewhat mimicking Alaric's own stance.

"I'll be eighteen soon..." Alaric murmured, almost wishing Rhys hadn't heard it so he had the time to come up with something else to say.

"Yeah, I know. We've been friends pretty much our entire lives, Alaric. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"My father is a Vampire of the old world. He doesn't believe in the Clans of the new world, he says it just encourages inbreeding and paints a bigger target on your back. Old ones don't share territory with other Vampires, Rhys... When a Vampire has a progeny, they keep them around for a while, but when the progeny is strong enough: they fight to the death. The strongest survives, and the strongest has the right to rule the territory."

"But you're his son! He wouldn't kill his own son... Would he?"

"I'm his only son now. There have been twenty before me..."

"Holy shit..." Rhys whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. He was one of the few out of the group who had met Mr Santana more than just a few times, and was the one who grew his precious roses that he seemed so fond of. He'd always found Mr Santana a bit eccentric, monstrous in appearance sure, but underneath the surface; Rhys had always thought Mr Santana was a kind and gentle man underneath it all.

"So one might say, with two avenues to my potential death, I've had a little on my mind lately." Alaric said with snort, looking away from Rhys with a deep sigh. Just like that, he felt a little lighter than he had before. A weight had lifted from his shoulders, and even though this isn't quite the way he imagined his pre-emptive and possible goodbye; he was glad to have been honest. At least just this once.

"Well of course we'll help you." Rhys announced, switching Alaric's light-hearted feeling to one of inherent dread so fast; Alaric was afraid he was going to get whiplash.

"What? Rhys, no. Did you not listen? He's killed twenty of his own children. Twenty pure blood Vampires, and probably countless more people who have had the unfortunate circumstance of crossing his path. Even if you did stand a chance, which you don't, I couldn't let you do it."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not the honourable way. It is not our way." Alaric said, tilting his head downwards with an exasperated sigh. He furrowed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Rhys was quiet for a moment, a small pout on his lips as he threw what Alaric had said around in his head.

"Well unfortunately for you, I also suffer peer pressure from dead people, and that code of honour says I cannot willingly let my friends go fight their father to the death alone." He said proudly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

The frustration was growing within Alaric, he suddenly regretted telling Rhys at all. It had gone from a moment of openness, and Rhys simply being annoyed with him; to now potentially putting his life in danger. He'd be grateful if the idea wasn't so stupid, and he didn't quite know how to put across exactly how deadly his father was. Until he did.

There was no registering of Alaric moving at all, until he was suddenly inches away from Rhys, a sudden gust of wind taking Rhys' breath away and it caused him to stumble backwards. He tripped on his own heels as he fell backwards, but before he could meet the hard ground he found the strong grip of Alaric gripping his forearm and wrenching him back on to his feet. Where he promptly fell forward into Alaric's strong chest.

"What the fuck!?" He cursed, backing up and out of Alaric's hold and clutching a hand to his chest in an attempt to steady the sudden pounding of his heart, and quell the redness of his cheeks. "That doesn't count. I wasn't ready." Rhys snapped to the now smug expression of Alaric. His eyes darted around the street to see if anybody had noticed, but of course: nobody had.

"Rhys..." Alaric cooed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he did his best to give a genuine and kind smile. Rhys was surprised at how the contact burned. His heart only seemed to, much to his confusion, flutter in reaction rather than steady. He gazed up at Alaric who stood a good few inches taller than him, to find the kind expression hauntingly foreign on his face. It seemed to hit Rhys in all the wrong ways, as Alaric didn't normally do such things. And yet... It looked homely. Pleasant, despite it's foreignness it only seemed to strike deeper, and he knew the next words were going to be full of compassion. "I told you because I trust you. So trust me when I say, no matter what happens; do not interfere. If anything were to happen to you, or to any of the guys... If I lost any of you because of me, I could not bare it."

Rhys felt stung at his words. He knew their meaning, knew that he meant well. But Alaric was asking to let his lifelong friend go to his death while he stood and did nothing. The entire concept was alien, and Rhys found despite it registering in his head, he could not accept it no matter what angle he tried to look at it from.

"Rhys, promise me you will not get involved." Alaric said, slicing through Rhys' thought process. His grip tightening ever so slightly on Rhys' shoulder, as if all the desperation in the world was poured into the gesture.

"Alaric—"

"Promise me." He interrupted, catching Rhys' eyes once more.

It took all of Rhys' strength to nod his head in agreement. The weight of what Alaric was asking caused his heart to sink from his chest to the ground as if he was stepping on it with each uneasy shuffle of his feet. But there was one thing Alaric seemed to forget about his closest friend. Rhys was a good liar.

A/N: A little more interaction between Rhys and Alaric ^-^
What do you think about  what's potentially in store for Alaric in the future? Do you think he'll kill his father? Or will his father kill him? What is Rhys going to do about it?

Anyways, i hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always:

Thank you for reading ^-^