He Was Weak
Eric? Godric? Slash anyone? Just a small snippet from episode eight of Season three. So, implied spoilers if you are not quite caught up yet.
This is implied slash, do not read if you're going to get all prudish about the whole thing.
"The Vampires need a leader."
Eric almost choked on the words. Laughter was in his throat, wanting to rip apart his lips. How he wanted to push his face into Russell's, smirking and sniggering wildly, telling him how sweet it was going to be when his Talbert - his sweet, infuriating, whining whore - turned to blood and rotten flesh in his arms.
In stead, he let none of this show, using every morsel of self control he had ever been taught. He tensed every muscle in his body and looked the fiend straight in the eyes.
"I thought Godric was such a Vampire," The words came out faint.
The shorter male simply stared back, lips drawn tight. For a fatal moment Eric knew he did not believe him, and he knew what must come next.
He felt his heart, dead and unbeating as it was, twist.
"But he was weak."
He was surprised at how well he said it - no pauses, no falters. Godric had taught him well.
The small boy knelt in the snow, naked bar a rag that tied around him and blood gushing from his throat, forming a river that rushed down him like a stream from upon a mountain. He held out his hand, blood seeping between the fingers, and babbled incoherently, terror in his voice and eyes.
Godric held the blonde easily, barely using the strength of one arm. Though the blonde was taller and appeared stronger, he could only flail in the grip, blood soaking his lips.
He growled when the lust got too much. "Maker, let me be!" He turned upon Godric instead. "I need it!"
Godric opened his mouth as if to draw breath. "One more test."
In an instant he had let go of Eric, and in the same instant Eric was upon the poor boy again. He looked only a few years younger than Godric appeared.
Before the boy could scream, Eric felt his back slam against the harsh cold of the icy ground. A great weight fell atop of him, though as he opened his eyes all he saw was Godric's foot upon his chest.
Eric grabbed his leg, yet the younger-looking Vampire did not move, like a statue built atop him.
"You failed."
Eric growled again.
"We take out feed from those who can run." Godric frowned.
Eric could not take it, the words, the morals, the meanings, all blurred into obscurity by the hunger. "You are weak! Weak like a human, when we could be Gods!" He screamed, "Why do you hold me back, Father?"
In answer, Godric only continued, as if his words were some chant, some ancient law. "We snap the necks of those who have done us wrong," His voice was soft, "We hunt pray, we feast, we move on."
He spoke like Eric's true father had once, like many men he knew might have spoken. Yet, none nearly half of them. He was used to men of blood and death, yet when he became death he was somehow meant to resist it's entirety?
Eric whined as his foot dug deeper. "Weakness…"
"Tell me, then, son, why am I standing over you?"
When Eric hissed and writhed, a sadness came over Godric's face. "Smile, brother, for it shall be over soon."
Satisfied, Russell left him.
The blonde vampire looked to the Talbert, who flashed him a soft smirk on the way out. Eric could only return it, after all he had not reason not to smirk.
As he replaced the crown, brass somehow warm on his fingertips, he felt a lump in his throat.
He let his humanity get the best of him…
And he had passed that trait on to Eric.
He felt like he had spoken a sin.
How he hated his weakness.
That sad face entered his mind once more, and a mournful voice, like a song, filled the office. "Smile, brother, for it shall be over soon." Yes, it would. Because in humanity there was mercy, there was compassion, there was everything Godric had been.
And there was vengeance, anger…
There was everything Eric would become.
