Let us go back 850 years to see a younger Eric, a mere 150 years after being turned, and thus my interpretation of a more "human" Eric...


Pater hêmôn ho en toes ouranoes

The chanting of the Orthodox priest was a soothing rhythm to Eric Northman, the midnight mass echoing in the towering dome above him. He stood in a group of Byzantine noblemen, his height and blond hair distinguishing him from the vibrantly colored gowns. To the Byzantine court, he was a special envoy from exotic lands to the north. But really he was a full-blooded Viking, a two hundred year old vampire, and already he had seen many lifetimes of history. He had been among the first Europeans in North America at Vinland, he had traveled through a vast land of Slavic peasants that one day would be Russia, and he had fought on the soil of England.
Now, he was listening to the Lord's Prayer in Greek in Hagia Sophia, the pride of Constantinople. The city was the largest in the world and was the main link between East and West. Eric loved the teeming, filthy, bustling city. In particular, he loved the women of Constantinople. Fair-haired Europeans, dark-skinned Egyptians, wives of Indian traders, the local Greek women-all the world was in Constantinople.
He leaned to the man next to him and made a joke about this, and the man chuckled. His name was Heroditus, and he was Eric's closest friend at this time. Heroditus was an ancient vampire who had rubbed shoulders with Socrates and Plato, and now was Eric's main guide around Constantinople. He had also taught Eric fluent Greek, the main language of the city. At this time, Eric did not know English, which was the tongue of a small-but growing powerful-island two thousand miles away. In 1152, Eric was a Greek-speaking Viking, and a proud Byzantine.

On Christmas night, Eric strode into the main banquet hall of Emperor Manuel Komnenos. The Byzantine Empire was the richest country in Europe, and the Emperor was seated on a brilliant gold throne, holding his infant daughter. Noblemen and their families mingled in the lavish hall, and Eric greeted several he knew by name. He had a reputation as a great dancer, and throughout the next several hours, noblewomen lined up for the chance to dance with this mysterious foreigner with the cold hands. (He easily explained away this hint at his identity as a sign of the cold lands he came from. The twelfth century was a time of superstition and legend, and to the people of Constantinople, this was reason enough.)
Around ten o'clock according to the water clock against one wall, Eric saw an attractive woman giggling with a group of her attendants. She was young, seventeen perhaps, and was dressed in a flowing white gown, her dark hair up in an old Roman hairstyle. Heroditus saw Eric looking at her, and chuckled. "That young lady is the niece of the Emperor's cousin. She's unmarried, which distresses her mother to no end. Go on, Eric, if you're feeling courageous," he teased.
Eric laughed. "I think I will. Wish me luck, old friend," although Eric knew he didn't need luck.
He strolled up to the woman and smiled. "Excuse me, may I dance?" he said with a wink. To his surprise, she didn't accept right away but turned to one of her friends. "Hmm, should I go with this guy or make him keep asking all night?" She and the friend laughed and walked off. Eric was intrigued now. Seldom did he meet someone who played hard-to-get, and this gal was now a challenge to him.
Eric walked up next to her, and he decided to try flattery. "I have heard you are an excellent dancer, and-"
"You want to see for yourself?" She laughed again. "Why shall you choose you, good sir, to dance?"
"Well, I am an envoy for a far-off land, in the Emperor's favor."
She smiled, "I have studied geography. From which land do you come, Sir...?"
"Eric is my given name, as I am Swedish." This girl must be educated. This is strange, how she's getting me to tell her all this.
"I have wanted to see the lands to the North. My name is Zoë Nakratous, and you may dance with me."

As they danced, Eric tried to find out more about this Zoë, but she often answered him in riddles. She was intelligent and playful, and the Viking was very curious about her. To Zoë, all this was like a game. She teased him about his height and laughed, her smiling face beaming up at him.
"Would you like to see the palace gardens, Zoë?"
"Would it be proper for a lady like me to do such a thing?" She batted her eyes.
Eric grinned. "Of course not."
"Then I say it's a good idea. Come on, Swedish fellow." She turned and darted out of the hall, a few nobles following her with their eyes. Then they turned in mass to Eric, who smiled back (focusing very intently on not accidentally showing his fangs). Emperor Manuel laughed and called for some more mead, and everyone went back to dancing and eating. Eric took the opportunity to slip out after Zoë.

He found her looking at a pale white flower. She turned to him.
"Do you think this is a pretty flower?" She pointed to a group of magnolias imported from the East. "It's certainly pale." She looked at him, and crossed her arms. "Now, can I call you Eric?"
Eric nodded. Oh no, I knew she's too smart. She knows, doesn't she?
She continued. "If I may cut to the chase, you are as pale as this flower. Now, I have read quite a bit, and I have searched out many legends. I am my father's only child, and he secretly taught me to read and write."
"That's remarkable, Zoë. I learned to read Greek only recently, and I cannot write very well yet. I like the old histories, to read about Rome and the old Emperors."
Zoë nodded, and rattled on in teenage enthusiasm. "Like I said, I've heard a lot of legends. I'm fascinated by the things the church won't talk about. Men who turn into animals, ghosts from the past, the demons the priests fear so much."
"They have good reason to fear them." Eric said. Zoë's mouth fell open.
"Those things exist? I'm wondering in particular about a creature from the western mountains. Pale, cold men who rise at night and feed on blood. They're called, something, I can't remember what. Vem-, voom—"
"Vampires," said Eric right before he caught his mouth in surprise to block the Serbian word.
"I got you!" Zoë was beaming and bouncing up and down. "Do you know any? Are they real? I so want to meet one!" She stared at his mouth, a sly grin on her face, and grabbed his hand. "Cold," she said excitedly. "By Christ's wounds, you are one—"
"Zoë!" boomed Eric. "You can't tell anyone! I'd be killed, there'd be panic—"
"So you are one! I found a vampire!" She clapped her hands and ran in a little circle. "Can I see your fangs? Do you have them? So, you can bite people?" She pestered him with questions, cocking her head in amusement.
"Yes, aren't you nervous? We are dangerous." he said, seeing if this strange girl could be frightened.
"Bullocks. People can be just as dangerous. Beyond Constantinople are so many barbarians and wars and cruel men. That's why I stay home and read. So can I see your fangs?"
Eric swallowed. This girl was making him nervous precisely because she was not. He nodded, and felt the fangs sliding out of his gum. He opened his mouth to show the sharp teeth, and Zoë gasped. "Wow." She giggled again, and started skipping back to the hall, but Eric grabbed her arm.
"Zoë, do not tell anyone. Do you hear me? No one, not even your friends! My life is in your hands."
She smiled. "My lips are sealed, Eric." She walked away, humming a church tune under her breath. Eric leaned against a bush, and sighed. He had just broken a fundamental rule: never show yourself to a human. But this girl, Zoë, was different. Eric walked through the garden, through a gate and disappeared into the dense city, to find Heroditus. He would know what to do about the girl.

"She sounds intriguing enough." Heroditus was laughing and leaning back into his stuffed chair. "So you say she's a brunette? I remember the fun I had with brunettes back in the old nights. Of course, I was extremely careful to cover my trail." His face got deadly serious. "This is an age of superstition and religion. This girl sounds intelligent. She should be able to keep her mouth shut. And if not, go for her jugular." He shrugged.
"Heroditus! The strange thing is, I don't want to bite her."
"Oh dear, that would be a problem now."
Eric continued. "I've never met anyone like her. She's beautiful, intelligent, humorous, unafraid…Such an unusual girl. I haven't felt something like this since, well, human days."
Heroditus laughed and drained his cup, wet with blood from an unfortunate woman. "I have seen sixteen hundred years now. And this is a new situation to me. I say wait and see. She should be able to keep quiet. I have a good feeling about this. Good luck, Eric."
The Viking laughed. "She is a special gal." He raised his glass of scarlet. "To Zoë."
"To Constantinople."