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SlumberingVoid — I think I liked Hilltop because you could place everything in it. Sometimes Alexandria (especially in the last season) didn't feel like I knew where everything exactly was unless it was on Morgan street or by the town hall. Hilltop you would often see the whole community in a single shot which made it feel more real to me. And yes the irony of Alexandria is the best thing about it... the Commonwealth sort of went in the opposite direction.

-Then-

"Just a little further."

"Stop saying that!"

"I mean it this time, really! Don't open your eyes."

"Okay, okay! Don't let me fall."

"Okay... we're here."

"Does that mean I can open my eyes?"

"You can."

"You're sure this time?"

"Open your eyes, Rhys."

He did, and Carl stood there grinning at the disorientated boy's face that quickly switched to a bug-eyed goggle at what was in front of him.

"Do you like it?" Carl asked, laughing because Rhys' glowing face had already given him his answer.

"Fuck you! Did you find this?" Rhys roared.

"Sure did," Carl said proudly.

The three-story building Carl had put Rhys in front of was in a small town that was about a two-day ride from Alexandria. It was run-down, the bricks crumbling from weather erosion, and the fallen guttering home to all kinds of disgusting fungus and ugly plant life.

But none of that mattered, not one bit, thanks to the tattered red banner hanging above the doors.

Vikings of Virginia

"Happy birthday," Carl sang off tune, holding his arms out wide.

"What the fuck are Vikings doing in Virginia?!" Rhys asked, ignoring him, sounding out of breath from the pent-up excitement he was struggling to contain.

"They are here..." Carl said, "because they heard the horns of war... and we have been called forth to raise our axes under their banner!"

Rhys was staring at him now, eyes bulging from his head.

"Too much?" Carl asked with a southern twang.

"Don't you dare stop."

"And so!" Carl immediately jumped back into the gruff Viking voice he had put on. "If you accept, Hersir Washburne, we will advance inside."

Rhys was quite literally biting his fist with tears in his eyes.

"How do you know what a Hersir is?" he whisper-squeaked.

Carl chuckled, wiggling his eyebrow. "I studied, of course."

Rhys gulped. "Is there a supply closet in there?"

Carl frowned. "Why?"

"I have literally never been so turned on in my life."

Carl snorted at him. "I have put too much effort into this gift. We're doing the Viking stuff first."

Rhys was nodding without any sign of stopping.

"First thing is first," Carl said, fishing into his backpack and pulling out a pamphlet.

"There's a pamphlet?!" Rhys squawked.

"Okay, you need to stop getting so excited over the things that aren't meant to be exciting."

"Okay, firstly... never, fuck you," Rhys said, snatching the paper from Carl and flicking through it greedily. "Secondly, I love you."

Carl laughed, holding out his arm in the direction of the door. "After you, Hersir Rhys."

"All jokes aside... when we get around to that supply closet, you are not allowed to call me anything but Hersir Rhys."

Carl grinned at him, nodding in agreement. "You know we don't need to use the supply closet, right? We're the only ones here."

The museum was pretty massive. Rhys dragged Carl from display case to display case, explaining each exhibit in excruciating detail without even reading the signs.

"Where are all the horns on their helmets?"

"Oh, come on, Grimes. Everyone knows that's a lie!"

"Everyone that read a book on Vikings, you mean?"

"Shut up. Now, what is a fun fact is that Vikings used to go skiing."

"Wait, really?"

"Yep! They even had a god of skiing... Ullr."

"Huh, that is a fun fact."

They stopped at a line of display cases that had been smashed open. Broken glass being all that lay on the cushions inside now. Rhys read a few of the plaques aloud.

"Mammen axe, Ulfberth blade, bredbil... ohhh, these were all weapons and tools."

Carl nodded, pointing to a few more smashed displays on the far side of the room. "Makes sense people would take them."

"Not really," Rhys said, picking up a shield someone had left on the floor — the blue wood rotted from a stream of green water running down the wall and pooling on the floor. "This stuff is like a thousand years old. Figure it would have broken on the first wasted they tried to hit with it."

"Shields are a good idea," Carl said, his voice echoing in the open room as Rhys carefully put the blue shield back on the podium it came from. "Against walkers, I mean."

"Sure," Rhys said. "You should get Aaron on that."

"Pfft," Carl dismissed the idea. "You're in Alexandria more than I am."

They continued walking into the next room, where, again, most of the tools or weapons had been looted from their glass cages. Rhys entertained himself with an AleHorn he found wedged under a wax bear figure in the middle of the room.

"Want another fun Viking fact?"

"Shoot," Carl said.

"Okay, well, not all Vikings were blonde, so they actually found being blonde to be extremely attractive. Some of them would dye it with lye."

"Lye?"

"Oh, it's this stuff they made from wood ash. They'd actually mix it with animal fats to make soaps and stuff."

"Wow, you managed to fit in two facts."

Rhys chuckled, putting the AleHorn into his pack.

"Always thought you would look good as a blonde," Carl hummed, reaching over to ruffle Rhys' hair, laughing at him when he slapped his hand away.

"You want me to go blonde?" Rhys asked, trying to flatten the floof Carl had summoned on his head.

Carl stared at him. "Wait... would you?"

"Nope," Rhys grinned. "Moving on."

Carl made a few grumpy groaning sounds as they strolled into a slightly bigger room. The hall had been decorated to look like a Viking long house — an unused firepit running up the middle with long tables and benches on either side laid with fake meats and plastic cheeses.

While Rhys bent over a table to test and make sure that the roasted chickens were definitely fake, Carl noticed the silver chain hanging from the inside pocket of his dusty brown jacket.

"Maggie gave you Glenn's watch again?" Carl asked.

Rhys looked down at the chain, tucking it back into his pocket. He nodded.

"You don't seem stoked."

"I am," Rhys said unconvincingly. "I just thought she would give it to Hershel."

"Did you say that?"

Rhys nodded again.

"And what did she say?"

Rhys shrugged, sitting on one of the benches and waiting until Carl joined him.

"She said her dad gave it to Glenn to signify his blessing for them to be together... and that she always thought that was pretty old-fashioned."

"I guess so," Carl said, picking up a foam apple and tossing it across the room, hitting the Jarl's thrones at the end of the firepit.

"Putting that aside," Rhys went on, "she told me that she would like it if I did the same for Hershel someday... since Glenn can't."

Carl frowned, nodding. "That's actually really sweet."

"Means I have to carry this around, though."

"You don't want to?"

"I don't mind," Rhys admitted. "It's just that I told Glenn I would get my own one to keep track of the time."

"You still have Ron's, though, right?"

"I do." Rhys nodded, pulling up his sleeve to show it. "But it feels like I always check Glenn's one first."

"I figure he'd be happy you have it," Carl smiled sweetly.

"I hope so."

Then Rhys saw something that made him jump to his feet.

"What?" Carl asked, reaching for his gun.

Rhys pointed to a sign before sprinting in its direction.

'Longboats This Way'

"Hold up!" Carl called, but Rhys was already barging through the building's backdoor.

"Shit," Carl hissed, chasing after him.

Round the back of the building was a river that ran parallel to the town, stretching almost out of sight in both directions before it bent off under a bridge that led out of town. There was a dock that had half sunk into the river. On either side of it, two wrecked remnants of Viking Longboats drowned in water and mud from the river bank.

"Ah, well, that sucks," Rhys grimaced. "Still cool, though."

Then he saw how panicky Carl looked before he quickly changed his expression to anything but.

"What's wrong?" Rhys asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Carl mumbled. "I just thought you would— never mind."

Rhys frowned at him, half amused, half confused.

Carl let out a strained sigh, looking out over the water. "I just thought you would be mad that this place is by the river. That you'd think I was trying to make you help me look for him."

"Oh," Rhys said slowly, still a little confused. "Why would I think— are you?"

"No," Carl said quickly. "I just found this place while I was looking for him."

"Then why would you think that I'd be mad? Why would that even make me mad?"

"I don't— I didn't—" Carl stopped, looking mad at himself. "Negan put the damn idea in my head... I shouldn't have let him get to me like—"

"Wait," Rhys stopped him. "When did you talk to Negan?"

Carl's face was quickly riddled with guilt. "Erm— last month, after I found this place... I visited Alexandria to ask Michonne if she thought it was a good idea for your birthday. You were doing your monthly visit to Hilltop that you promised Maggie you'd do, and—"

"Hold on," Rhys said, looking a little bit mad now, "you visited Alexandria when I was gone?"

"It's not like that," Carl said quickly. "It was just bad timing."

"I basically live in Alexandria now, and I visit Hilltop the same time every month... how is that bad timing?"

"I just forgot! I would have waited for you to get back, but I had to get back out here."

"But you had time to visit Negan?"

"You don't need to make a big deal out of it!"

"Oh," Rhys laughed, "so now I'm making a big deal out of it?"

"Kind of."

Rhys went silent.

"I didn't mean—" Carl frowned. "I'm sorry. I really did just lose track of time."

"I still hate that you talk to him," Rhys admitted. "Sometimes feels like the only reason you visit."

Carl looked hurt by that but didn't argue the contrary. "I hate that I do, too, sometimes."

"I get why you do it, though."

"You do?"

Rhys nodded. "He listens to what you say. He's good at making it feel like he's your friend."

"Have you been to see him," Carl asked, fidgeting with the clasp on his thigh holster.

"No," Rhys said sternly. "I just know you. I know that you always go to see him whenever you're excited that you might have a new lead on your dad."

Carl pulled his hands over his face and groaned into them. "Did I totally just ruin today?"

Rhys pulled Carl's hands down, smiling past them. "That's the magical thing about Vikings, Grimes... you can't ruin them."

A/N

Rhys' Viking thing is a call back to so long ago I doubt anyone remembers him being in love with them, aha. Felt like a good thing for this flashback, though.