One-shot. Sookie/Eric. Song fic. Hallelujah by (I think originally) Leonard Cohen.

Warnings: Bondage, S&M (kinda), mention of torture

Don't own it. If I did, Bill would be dust and Eric would be mine.

Cold and Broken

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

There was padding around the chains that held both his wrists and ankles in place, for which Eric send of a silent thank you to whoever might be listening. Though considering the situation he now found himself, he wasn't sure anyone was listening. Sookie was going to have some explaining to do when she got back or woke up or whatever it was she was doing. His sleeping compartment was supposed to be a well-guarded secret, but somehow, during full light that day, someone as yet unknown had managed to retrieve him from it and tie him to a kitchen chair with silver chains.

She tied you

To a kitchen chair

Eric looked ready to kill someone. He was ready to kill someone. His entire body was wound tighter then a spring and his hair had fallen into his face, hiding the mutinous expression he wore. His nails were biting into his palm, causing a trickle of blood to drip to the kitchen floor, in his attempt to control his anger. If he shifted too much, the padding protecting him from the silver would slip.

His already tense frame went rigid at a sound from the other room. He couldn't catch the scent of whoever it was and he felt a small coil of fear settle into his gut. He had not been this physically vulnerable since he was human. And the most worrying of all, he did not even know who had trapped him.

The click of heels across the kitchen floor did not bring the scent of the person, but rather the overpowering smell of too much perfume. He narrowed his eyes, refusing to turn and look at the woman, for it surely was a woman. She knew what she was doing, if she was wearing enough perfume to disguise her scent from him.

The heels stopped behind his chair. He felt movement and then fingers on his hair, gathering it together. He frowned, not understanding what this woman intended, until he heard the snick of shears. His eyes widened in horror at the realization and sure enough, moments later, his long blonde hair that he'd sported for the past 1000 years lay in a pile at his feet. The woman had reached forward and dropped it between his knees. His focus, normally, would have been on that hand to determine who the woman was, but he couldn't look away from his hair.

His hair.

The shears snicked again, repeatedly, as the woman, he assumed, tried to make an actual haircut out of the mess that had just a few moments ago been his one remaining connection to his human self.

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

The fingers whispered over his skin at his neck and Eric almost yanked his hand from the chains restraining him, but managed at the last moment to stop the impulse. Exposing himself to silver now would serve no purpose. He couldn't even see his opponent never mind reach her to kill her. He knew so little about what was happening to him.

Her breath was on his neck and she finally spoke. "That's much better. Now, you just need to understand who is in charge here."

He stilled completely. Allowing his rage to bubble up. "Sookie."

There was a hollow, bitter ring to the word. More clicking of heels and Sookie was in front of him, staring down into his face with her lips curled into a superior smile. "Eric, you seem to be under the impression that you have some sort of control over me. This needs to be fixed."

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

It was days later. Many days later, when he finally understood what it was she meant by her words. The sun was already rising over the house and blood dripped thickly from his ears and nose. She had refused him sleep for so long now that he'd lost track of the days and nights. Deep gash marks across his chest mimicked the bleeds, as well. He shuddered as the sound of a chain being set down floated to him from the living room. Oh yes, he understood all too well.

At first, he'd wondered why no one from Fangastia had come looking from him when he had not returned to work, especially Pam. However, the longer he spent with Sookie the more he'd come to realize that they would only come for him if she allowed it. And of course, she would not allow it.

He had been mistaken. For over a thousand years, he'd been mistaken. Power, strength, courage, these things were not his. They belonged to Sookie, who might bestow them upon him if she saw fit. She had all of it. Everything he was. Everything he had thought he was, it was all hers.

His breathing was shallow, he'd found that breathing, especially shallow breath helped ease the pain of these prolonged bleeds and the silver that was biting into his waist.

Like a fool, he'd tried to get free of her after several days, but his strength was depleted and the silver around his wrists and ankles had slowed him down. Since that day, which could have been a week, a month, or a year ago, he'd had a silver chain coiled around his middle, slung low to just graze his hips. She wanted him to understand that everything he was belonged to her. When he did not seem to understand this, she had stripped him, with a silver-bladed knife, and let the chain dropped just a little more. The pain had been excruciating. He'd been certain that if a vampire could die of it, he would have.

Now it sat lightly, burning his hips and reminding him of her. She'd gifted him with new clothes just a few days before and the fabric protected much of his sensitive flesh from the silver. He had thanked her for it and her generosity. She'd smiled at him and he'd felt pride in it. It was that moment that he'd realized that he loved her.

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

There is a possibility of a second part. Tell me what you think.