Erik Northman

Eric's room is cool and clean.

His bed is made with white and grey, and there's a tray with a carafe and a glass on a small table closer to it.

He steps inside and turns to face Ganymede with a hungry, eager expression.

Emptiness.

He can feel his body. His hands hanging by his side. His feet, encased in boots, on the ground. His back straight. His fangs, hidden.

He can feel the stale air of the small , dark space he is in against his skin.

He doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t have to.

He can feel hunger. Deep within him, like a low moan.

He cannot feel himself. Inside.
He is hollow, filled with a dense fog, grey and damp and heavy, a fog made up of whispers.

He doesn’t think. The whispers leave no room for thoughts.

There are sounds on the other side of the door. They don't concern him.

Someone is in front of him. In the small space.

Sookie.

She is talking. Softly. Urgently.

"You should go."

He can barely hear himself. He shouldn't talk. He should be silent. And wait.

But her lips move as she asks him about the spell, about what he is to do.

"Kill the King."

The words fall from his mouth. He sees her eyes widen.

And then everything blurs.
A women yells at Sookie.
Commotion.
There are shots fired outside the door.

He stands in the darkness. Cold. Still.

The door is opened again.

The whispers congeal and become a voice his ears can hear.
“Mr. Northman, it’s time to go.”

The woman who was Marnie and is now Antonia looks at him coldly.
There are others there.
He doesn’t see them.

“Yes, Antonia.”

His reply is soft and he begins to walk. There is only one path ahead of him. The one she has chosen.

It leads them through dark streets and as they move, she instructs him. With her voice. With her mind. The magic curling inside of him like dusky tendrils.

There’s a building. Large and looming. Brightly lit.

They move inside and down, down into the basement. Antonia stays there with - Roy? Roy.
Eric walks up the stairs, slowly enough to be seen.

He is to be seen.

There are other vampires there.

(Sheriffs, called in to look for the Sheriff of Area 5, Eric Northman, the fugitive. The vampire controlled by a necromancer. The threat . Sheriffs called in as security to make sure that the Festival of Tolerance will go off without a hitch.)

They see him.

He runs.

(At vampire speed. But not as fast as he can. They have to catch him. But not before they’re all the way down, down in the basement).

They corner him.

He turns. Slowly.

“You have cornered me,” he says, Anotonias voice loud in his mind.
“I surrender.”

The spell came. Rushing through her windows like a summer storm, tearing at Eric, making him scream and cry and thrash.
She'd lain besides him, stroking his face, but when the spell hit she'd withdrawn to a safe distance, trying to make him listen to reason. That he would die. That she would loose him.

He'd screamed that he didn't care. And then he'd just screamed without words, tearing at the chains that had made their way into his flesh. His neck, his wrist, his stomach.



And then the spell had passed. And the sun had set.

And she'd seen his eyes clear from the madness. Even if they were still hazy with pain.

She slowly removes the chains from his legs. They were the easy ones. The ones on his wrists makes him whimper and the pile across his belly (warm and sticky with blood and bits of skin and flesh) makes him make a sound that she never wants to hear again.
And then there's his neck.

Even beneath the chains, she can tell that it is bad.
Like, really bad.

She takes hold of one of the chains. Hesitantly.

“Yank it off. It's better,” he whispers.

“Well, won't it pull - some of you off with it?”
She hates how uncertain she sounds.

“Yeah, but that's okay. It doesn't hurt as much as the silver, and it heals faster.”



He just wants it gone.

She presses her lips together and leans over him to make sure that she's got a firm grip and then she tears them away, the sound of flesh being torn apart drowned out by Eric's roar of pain and Swedish curses. And then he swallows and says, “Thank you.”



She can see the inner bits of his neck move.
Oh Od, she can actually see inside his neck

“But you said it would heal faster, she says, sounding almost a little accusing because he did say that. And now she can see bits inside of him.

“Yeah, I'm just realizing I haven't fed since I-- “

“Since my fairy godmother?”

“Right.”



That was awkward.

But Sookie soldiers on. “You want a Tru Blood?”

“Oh, no, a Tru Blood isn't gonna help with this. I just need a rest.”


He tries to sit up and then quickly lies back down again, trying to make it seem like a controlled motion. Like he wanted to lie down.

“You need to feed.”


“Well, there is no one.”


He closes his eyes. Weakly.

She hesitates and then she says, “There's me.”


Quietly.
Almost a little bashfully.

“Please don't say this if you don't mean it.
He opens is eyes and looks up at her. Radiant. Hesitant.
Slightly marled by blood spatter.

“I do mean it. - Now, you know my blood's special, like--”

“Like the fairy goddess.”



Yes. He knows.

“Just a fraction of that, and I'm trusting you not to lose control.”
More or less.

He looks up at her and then he says, “Take something silver, hold it in your hand and silver me should I do anything unwanted.”


He doesn't want her to come to harm.
“I'm trusting you, Eric.”



And she realizes that she does. She does trust him.
But she also wraps a long piece of chain around her knuckles. Grand didn't raise no fool.

“I won't betray you. Ever.”


Even like this, weak from lack of blood, his fangs throbbing, he knows that. He won't. Never.

“I may remind you of that someday,” she says as she leans in, moving her hair out of the way.

He leans up, just a little, and breathes her scent. The scent of her blood, her fairy legacy.
Trembling.

And then his fangs comes down and he bites her, as carefully as he possibly can. Burying his hand in her hair.

She gasps, as she feels his fangs pierce her skin, and then again as his mouth pulls in her.

He drinks, and his skin and flesh knits.
And then he stops and pulls back, growling.

She stares at him, his exposed fangs, his drawn back lips, with a good amount of trepidation.
And then e bites down on his own hand and holds it out to her, the two fang punctures oozing cool, dark blood.
“Drink,” he says, hoarsely.

“But I am not injured.”
Her voice sounds strangely weak to her own ears.
The wound on her neck is throbbing. And her, well, everything's throbbing.

“We will be one,” he says, still with that scary snarl in his voice, and she should leave, she should pull back, but she wants him. She wants to drink his blood. She wants for them to be one. And so she leans in and drinks, closing her eyes as she hears him moan.


They're covered in blood.
It makes sense to take the soiled clothes off and go wash.

He lifts her out of the hidey hole and they walk, hand in hand, to the bathroom.
The walls are moving. Breathing. Soft, gentle, loving movements.
She stumbles and he catches her and then he stops because her skin is so soft that he has to stroke it. Slowly and methodically.

She pulls at him and he follows and then they're finally in the shower stall and she looks up at him and says, “It's a miracle.”


“What is?”
Looking down at her beautiful eyes. Her mouth is moving, but the words bloom into being inside his mind and heart. Red and golden.

“You. Your blood. It's amazing.”



Her whole body is thrumming. Singing. She is breathless and her hands are moving across his chest and down his back, all on their own.

“So is yours.”



And then gen he kisses her because he can't explain just how much her words means to him.

The room grows dark blue as they kiss and caress each other and then Sookie turns on the faucet but it doesn't work.

She looks up and blinks.
“It's snowing.” Her voice is filled with wonder.
Snow.

Eric draws the shower curtain aside and reveals a snowy landscape, glittering in the dim light.

And a little ways away is a bed. A huge, wooden bed with blankets and furs.

“Why is there a bed?” she asks, wonderingly.
He looks at her. Wide-eyed. “Can we make love in it?”

“Like, maybe never stop.”

She begins to run, her golden hair flowing in the wind, her feet barely touching the earth.
“Why would we ever want to?” he asks, as he follows, entering the bed, entering her as she laughs and then cries out, breathlessly.

They are one.

After - they don't know how long - and more blood and more climaxes, Sookie sits up, shakily, and says, “I have to pee,” and then she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stumbles toward a clump of dark trees.

He looks after her, lovingly.

And then he gets up as well and follows her, the snow crunching under his feet. The branches hits him in the face and he closes his eyes and steps through -

Into bright light.

The sex is hot.
Primal. Sweaty.

(Well, Sookie is sweaty. Glistening in the dim light from the hallway. Her floral bedding smells of her, eneveloping him in her scent, sweat and lust and eagerness).

After they curl up in bed together. Her on her back, a little short of breath. Him curled up next to her, resting his head on her belly.

"Our clothes are in the woods," she murmurs with a smile in her voice. Because that is not her. Not at all. Only - this time it was and she has no regrets what so ever.

"You want me to go get them?" he asks. He would. If she wanted him to.

"Don't you dare," she replies.

Not when they can be like this.

Her hand strokes his back. His hair.
He is cool and heavy and after a little while, she asks, in a low tone of voice, "You still there?"

It can be hard to tell.
With vampires.

" I'm listening to your heartbeat," he answers in a whisper. A whisper filled with wonder. "I can feel it. Every pulse. Through your skin into mine."

She is quiet as she listens to him, his voice soft and intimate and - beautiful. In the darkness.

"If I lay still and think about nothing else it feels like my own heart is beating."

She doesn't know what to do with that. With the soft longing in his voice. She cannot begin to pretend to understand how he must feel. Close to life and yet always removed.

So she says, "I feel like mine's still racing. At least there's some things you haven't forgot."

He shifts a little and looks up at her, his eyes huge and earnest. "Sookie? Do you want me to remember again?"

"Stop it." It falls out of her mouth., landing between them like a stone.
"Of course I do. I mean, I wouldn't want you to change any but I do want you to get your memories back."

He is - he is wonderful like this. But how could she say that she would begrudge him his own history?
That would be cruel.

"Yeah," he whispers, "but that would change me. Once I know who I am everything I've done I couldn't possibly be the same."

How could he be?
With what she has told him. What Emcee and Jay and Sunshine has told him.

And he has to know.
"Would you still want me then?" he asks. Quietly.

Her answer is hesitant. But she doesn't look away.
"I - I don't know. You did a lot of terrible things to me and people I love. But then there's the you who's so good and kind and sweet."

She bites her lower lip, suddenly bashful. "I'd never have let the old you into my bed."
And then she adds, wryly, "God knows you tried."

"Sookie, would you still want me?" he asks again, reaching up to touch her face.
"I hope I would. I hope I will."
A little more confident this time.

"Because that day is gonna come and I want to be still feeling this now. I want to so, so bad."

He smiles. Slowly. Holding her gaze.

"That's all I need to hear," he says, softly, as he caresses her cheekbone with his thumb.
Her skin is soft.
Warm.
Her bones are fragile.
Her blood is summer.

And she loves him.
And he loves her.

It's stupid really.

Sookie's friend has come over and she is clearly upset about something. Emotionally wrung out.

And he should. Just have stayed away. Have hidden. Played along with Sookie's 'well, now is not the best time to have a sleep over'.

But he doesn't. And the friend, Tara, freaks, brandishing a poker at him, screaming at Sookie.
Because she betrayed her by letting Eric in. Eric who tortured Lafayette.

And he sees it, the dungeon, the one Pam showed him. Just as clear as if he was standing there.

Because he cannot deny it. He is that Eric too. Was that Eric.

Tara leaves and he asks Sookie, if he really did all of those horrible things Tara said he did. (To others. To Sookie). She confirms it. And then she tries telling him that there is good in him too. That she sees it. That she wouldn't have let him stay if that was not the case.

But he can't unhear the accusations. Unsee the dungeon with its chains.

So he tells her that he sees the beautiful light that shines within her and that he could not bear if he was the one to snuff it. And then he leaves, walking slowly into the darkness of the Louisiana night.

He hears the creak of her screendoor. The sound of a floorboard being stepped lightly on.

"Eric," she says, quietly.
You need not raise your voice when talking to a vampire.

"Don't go."

He turns and she is standing there in the porch lit by the warm light from her kitchen window and her inner glow.

She holds out her hands to him and he returns to her embrace.

To her kisses.

Sookie is sleeping. She is laying on the bed in a flimsy nightdress that somehow makes her seem more naked than her naked skin would have. Clinging to her thighs, her buttocks, her breasts, her hair fanned out on the pillow.

He watches her from the doorway. Half naked.
Entranced,

And then - there is a heavy hand on his shoulder. A cold, heavy hand.

He turns and looks down.

A vampire.

Short and pale with cropped hair and a dark, geometric band tattooed across his clavicle.

"Hello Eric," he says, reaching up to run a finger along Eric's jawline.

It's a gentle touch.
Confusing.
Caressing.
Paralyzing.

He steps past Eric and walks over to where Sookie lies sleeping. Running a hand up her leg. Leaning down to breathe her scent, face close to her neck.

And then Eric moves, the trance finally broken, rushing to the bedside, pushing the other vampire away.
"Don't touch her," he says, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears. Strained. Pained.

"She is beautiful," the other vampire murmurs and then he continues, in Swedish, "Drink with me. Let us drain her and walk in the sun together."

He is appalled and frightened but his 'no' sounds weak to his own ears.
Still, it enrages the other vampire, who is in front of him in a flash, his fingers closing around Eric's throat. Forcing him to his knees.

Snarling, "You are incapable of love," as if he can hear Eric's thoughts. "You are damned."
"She can redeem me," he whispers.
"You cannot be saved. You are a creature of death, and the living are good for only one thing. And it is not love."

And the vampire lets down his fangs and hisses and he is a frightsome and fearful sight, making Eric's insides go cold and heavy.

"Drink," he orders and Eric tries to tell him no, he really does, but the hand on his neck is so heavy and his fangs throb and it is just easier to go along with it, to let his fangs down, to let the hiss out -

He sits up with a start, alone on the cot.

He rises and walks up the stairs, through the dark house.

Sookie is in bed, obscured by her cozy flannel nightgown.
He stands in the darkness, staring down at her.

She opens her eyes, startled.
"Ah, Eric! What the hell?"

And he says, "I had a bad dream."

It's exhilarating, running at full speed through the darkness.
The fairy's blood is lighting his veins on fire, and when he looks down at his arm, he is almost certain he can actually see it, the fairy blood, red and glittering beneath his skin.

He throws his head back and laughs and then he reaches his arms above his head and hurtles into the night sky , almost colluding with a terrified bird.

The night is a blur and the sunrise - ah, the sunrise. It is so beautiful that he weeps, half-hidden in the branches of an old tree.
But he doesn't hide for long, lured out by the clear sound of water moving against land.

It is not the sea. But it is water, moving invitingly like a woman's body, adorns with strands of glittery sunlight.
He strips and dives in.

And then he hears her. Her heartbeat. Her pretty, fast heartbeat.

(And another heartbeat. But that's not important).

He breaks through the surface, feeling the drops scatter around him, and calls, "Hey, Sookie! Where have you been? Come. Come play with me. It's wonderful here."

His voice is full of laughter.

"I am Aegir, God of the Sea, and you are Ran, my sea goddess."


"There's big gators in there, you crazy Viking! Get on out and let's go home, before one of them chomps off your you-know-what," Sookie yells back, sounding just on the edge of panicky.

(He is really naked out there. And wet. And glistening. And drunk off his face).

"Leave the sun to the water? Nope. I'll just kill all the sea monsters! Gators, krukodiler! Show yourselves! Cowards!"

It is a game. Though he wouldn't mind killing a sea monster for her.

"He really is different," someone says, and Eric is suddenly hyper aware of the man. The were. The fucker.

Right. Next. To. Her.

"Get away from her! " he sneers.

"Fuck you! She wants me here," he yells back and Sookie tries to intervene. And introduce. "Eric, this is Alcide. He's our friend. He's gonna help you." And adding, because this is no herder party and she knows these two. "You don't want to fight him."

Eric's answer is predictable. And a little eager. "Yes, I do. Now prepare to die, you stinking dog."

As is Alcide's. "Take your shot, you dumbshit fanger."

And Sookie has had it with them. "Grow up, you giant babies! Alcide, stop making that noise. Eric, put up those fangs and do what I say! "

He is about to yell something when he suddenly feels the ground disappear under his feet. "Uh, uh I don't feel so good," he mumbles,

"Now will you listen to me?"

He looks up at her, eyes wide and confused, " Sookie, I hurt. My blood is burning."
"I know," she says, and Alcide can't help but notice that she doesn't sound quite as put upon as she ought to,
"Now, come on. You gotta get going. Vamp speed."

"I don't want to go back to the darkness," he whimpers. "I want us, I want us -" She interrupts him. "Just keep that blanket on, and the sun at your back."

"Sookie, I'm -"
"Go. Run. We'll be right behind you."

And he does as he is told, running blindly back toward the house.

He sits on the cot, swaying slightly, when she makes her way down the ladder.
The were is staying upstairs. Wisely.

"I don't want to go to sleep," he murmurs, looking at her with bloodshot eyes,

"You have to rest," Sookie says. Reasonably. "You got all burned up today. Let me check." Looking him over, touching him gently.

"Everything healed. Now, lay down and close your eyes."

"No," he says. Unreasonably.

"No."

There's a hint of a pout.

"If you stay awake, you're gonna start bleeding all over the place," she tells him, a little sternly.

"I know what the bleeds are."
Petulant now.

"Fine," she says, getting up, " then you can clean it up. I'm not a maid."

"Stay with me."

He doesn't care if he sounds weak. Or needy.

"Please."

"Can't," she says, surprised at the pang she feels. "Human stuff to do."

He gets tucked in and she leaves. He closes his eyes.

And then he wakes. Knowing that her house is empty.
The last of the fairy blood is making his restless.

He gets up and wraps himself in the blanket before climbing up the ladder.
And entering Miliways.

He sleeps. Dead to the world.

Unaware that Sookie calls Alcide to ask him if she can come by. Ask him a favor.
Unaware that she worries about Eric being close to Jason, who is still recovering from his V addiction.
Unaware that Tara stops by to beg Sookie to square things between Lafayette and Eric.
Unaware that she lies for his sake, claiming that she hasn't seen him.
That he is missing.

(In a way he is missing, his old self, the one she knows. Now he is frightened and gentle. But he still has fangs. She reminds herself of that).

He sleeps while she drives to Shreveport and makes a deal with Alcide, about Eric hiding out in one of the homes he is working on, one that hasn't sold yet. Sleeps while she realizes that Alcide is back with Debbie Pelt who's switched V for Jesus. Sleeps while the were bristles at the idea that Eric is in her house.

Sleeps while a phone he no longer has rings and rings and stops to let Bill leave a message. Annoyed at being ignored. Again. Fucking Northman. Arrogant sob.

And then he wakes up and blearily makes his way up the stairs in worn and soft Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt, opening the door - and stepping into Miliways.

And so he returns, reentering Sookie's living room, once again in dirty jeans and with muddy feet.

He sits down on her couch, cautiously, and realizes that she must be on the phone with someone out in the kitchen.

Going "Pam? Pam?"

Then she hangs up and reappears with a basin of water for his dirty feet. Apologizing because it's grown cold by now, the water.

"I don't mind," he says, looking intently at her as she kneels down and wrings a washcloth.

Her touch is gentle and he pulls one foot back a little, surprising her with a suppressed giggle.

It tickles.

She seems sceptical as she returns her attention to his feet. As if he doesn't fit.

Like in Milliways.

He suddenly, urgently, wants to kiss her, but you can't. Not just like that.
So instead he leans forward , just a little, and says, "You're very beautiful."

She looks up. Even more sceptical.
"Uhm - thanks?"


{ooc: dialogue taken from season 4, episode 3}

It's stupid, really.

It's all because of the house. And Sookie.

He'd known she'd return. He'd been certain. So he had bought her house, through an agency of course. Her idiot brother would never have trusted him, but he had never suspected anything amiss with the agency. Not even when he got the asking price.

Anyway, he'd bought it and she'd returned and not been particularly pleased that he could come and go as he pleased.
He'd been happy to see her though.
Surprisingly happy.

Anyway, he'd figured she'd come around. So he'd spent time in Miliways, been condescendingly polite to his new Regent, and waited.

And then he was summoned by King Bill who was all smiles and hinted strongly at houses and giving them back and such.

The joy of turning him down.
Oh, yes.
And Bill having to look like it was all just fine because he knew that Eric Knew People and couldn't be forced into giving up property. Such as houses. And half fairies.

And then he started talking about witches. Not just ordinary witches though. Your Wiccans with their woo woo crystals or your Satanists with their goats' blood or whatever. No, these were the real deal apparently,
Compton claimed he'd had a spy infiltrate their little coven and that the spy had seen them raise a bird from the dead.

Necromancers.

Necromancers can control the dead and vampires being what they are -

Well. It would have to be shut down. Eric wanted to send Pam but Bill insisted he go himself. He tried a deflection about whether it had been pre-approved or not but in the end he took the job upon himself.
With an ironic, little bow even.

He should have known it would all go to Hell. He'd been there, during the Inquisition. He knew that if they were the real deal they'd be antagonistic. And skillful.

And yet he just walked in and told Marnie, the head witch, just how things would go. They would disbanden. Straight away. When she tried to argue he asked Lafayette (and what the fuck was that about? Seriously, Lafayette) if that worked with him.

No. Eric tells how he wants it and that is how he gets it.

He grabs Marnie when she tries starting shit and drops fang. And they start chanting.
Of course they do.

Only - only it - does something.
The light disappears.
And Marnie is standing a little ways away, yelling at him. In Latin.
Staring at him.

He can hear the surf and the crashing waves.
And then he falls into her eyes.

~

The vampire looks around.
Frightened.
And then he runs away.

~

He walks alongside the road. Bare feet. Bare chested.
His jeans are dirty.

A car slows. Stops.

And suddenly the air smells like summer. Summer and honey and sunlight on waves.

The woman is bright like a sunrise. She calls him Eric.
Eric.
Is that him?

She smells so good that he has to -
And then she breaks his nose and tells him she will help him. If he behaves.
He promises he will.
Swears it.
To Sookie.
(Not Snookie. He thinks that's her name at first. When she tells him he is a vampire. And he tells her he knows.
He knows he is a vampire.

That is all he knows.)

His nose heals. He sits in her car, his hands in his lap.
Frightened.

~

She invites him into her house. Since it's the first time he is there. He almost gets mud on the rug straight inside and has to cant his way around it.
Awkwardly.

And then he just stands there. Huge. Half naked. With tousled hair and muddy, bare feet.

She goes into the kitchen and he hovers, briefly.
Then he walks after her, through the door.