Paris, 1762
For the past few months, Eric had begged Godric to be allowed to make a childe of his own. Her name was Amélie and Eric was as madly in love with her as she was with him. They didn't care about conventions, she had secretly spent many nights with him already. She even knew who, or rather what, he was, and didn't care. She still loved him.
And now, it was all over, she'd never be his again. Eric cradled Amélie's limp body in his arms, didn't care that her blood stained his suit, that his own bloody tears left marks on his face and his shirt. He loved her, but he hadn't been able to help her, hadn't been smart enough, fast enough, to save her life.
They were supposed to meet tonight, but Eric had been late, had lost track of time while talking to Godric. When he hurried towards their meeting point near the market place, he heard her cry - pained, fearful, she yelled his name. He was at her side in an instant, snapped the neck of her attacker, but it had been too late - the man had already stabbed her, twice, hit her heart... she was dead, gone, even Eric couldn't save her any more.
Eric didn't think, he just fell to his knees in the dirty alley, clutched her lifeless form to him and cried. He didn't worry about being discovered, about what people would think, would do to him, all he could think about was his dead love. People started to gather, stare, but he didn't notice.
Then Godric was at his side, talked to him, pulled him to his feed. Eric still held Amélie in his arms, couldn't bear to let her go. He heard Godric talk to the people around them, something about 'getting her to a doctor' and 'let us pass'. Eric didn't care, but when Godric led him away, he followed, all the way back to their home.
Without a second thought he carried Amélie's body to his bedroom, placed her on the bed they had shared for so many nights. Red tears still ran down his face, mixed with her blood on the sheets. Eric knelt beside her, almost torn apart by grief and anger.
Godric's hand fell on his shoulder, startled him. He hadn't even noticed that his maker had followed him.
"I am sorry that you lost her, I should have allowed you to make her your childe." Godric's voice was soft, almost inaudible.
Eric looked up, suddenly angry - at himself, at the now dead murderer, at his maker. "It's your fault that she is dead now!" He yelled and with one swift motion he propelled himself off the floor and at Godric. His anger and grief let him forget all reason - yes, Godric was smaller, but he was so much stronger, could command him to stop if he wanted to. But that didn't matter, Eric wanted to hurt him, make him pay for the loss of his love. He hit and kicked and tried to bite the smaller vampire, who blocked or avoided most of his attacks.
Godric didn't really fight back, just blocked his attacks, but Eric didn't notice. He just kept attacking over and over again, until finally his rage subsided. With one last angry yell, he threw himself at his maker, but not to attack, he grabbed Godric's shirt, dropped to his knees again and started to weep.
Godric gently stroked him, held him, whispered calming words, until this wave of emotion was gone as well. When Eric finally calmed down, Godric knelt down beside him and gently wiped the bloody tears from his face. "I know it hurts to lose someone you love, but we can't help her any more." His voice was gentle. "Let us get her to her family, they need to know what happened to her and will want to say their goodbyes."
Eric just nodded, he felt empty now, as dead as he should be. He didn't move even when Godric stood up and picked the lifeless, empty body off the bed. Godric gave him a long look, then left with the dead Amélie. When he returned a few minutes later, Eric was still kneeling in exactly the same spot, he hadn't moved at all.
"Let's get you out of those clothes and cleaned up." Godric's voice reached Eric and with a start he realized that his maker had returned. He had no idea how much time had passed, it didn't really matter. He shook his head slowly and didn't move from his spot on the floor. A small, cool hand settled on his shoulder. "Eric, get up now," Godric ordered. There was nothing he could do, he had to obey his maker's orders. As soon as Eric was standing, Godric ordered again: "Take off your clothes, then come to the bathroom. I'm going to get some hot water to clean you up." Then he turned and left Eric alone in the bedroom.
Eric didn't want to clean up, didn't want to wash away the only thing that was left of his love, his Amélie, but he had no choice. When his maker ordered him, he couldn't resist, at least not for long. Almost of their own accord, his hands began to open his shirt, slip it down his shoulders. He just let everything drop to the floor, didn't really care who would clean it up or if it stayed there to rot. Finally he was naked, and as slowly as he could, he walked to the bathroom. He might not be able to disobey his maker, but he did his best to drag it out. If anything, he was stubborn, he didn't like to have his will taken away and fought it as much as possible.
The tub was already filled, a bit of steam rose off the surface. It was anyone's guess how Godric had managed to get that much water heated in such a short amount of time, but Eric didn't really care. He still felt numb, just slightly annoyed that his maker led him around like a puppet.
He got into the tub, let Godric wash his face, his hair, his body, stepped out when ordered and allowed himself to be dried. Then Godric handed him some clean clothes which he put on before heading for the cellar where they slept during the day. It all felt like a dream, not real at all.
When he woke up the next morning, he wasn't numb anymore, even if he wished he were. It hurt to know that he lost Amélie, it hurt so much. And the pain probably would stay with him for a long time. "Never again..." he mumbled, he never wanted to fall for a human again, and if he did, he would turn them. It just hurt too much to lose someone you loved, he never wanted to feel that way again.
