Disclaimer: Pam and Eric aren't mine, obviously.
Saved
As Russell and Sophie Anne made to leave Fangtasia, Eric felt relieved. The past two days were not going to be among his top ten, that was for sure. In fact, they were more likely to be among his least favourite days. They hadn't been the worst days of his life; but they'd come close.
As the door shut behind their majesties, Eric turned to the reason why. Pam. His Pam, his child.
At one hundred years old, she was still young. No longer a baby, but not much more. And the fact she had been tortured and god only knew what else by the Magister made his blood boil. He should have been able to protect her better. That was his job as her maker; a job he had always taken great pride in and taken seriously from the off. He was not a Bill Compton. Palming Pam off had never crossed his mind, nor would it. From the day he had made Pam, he had always made sure she knew where her true place was, even if he released her from time to time from it.
She belonged with him, by his side. She belonged to him.
"Dotter," he said as he turned to her. Warm loving sentiments were not daily occurrences between the two of them, nor would they ever be. That was just not the way there were. But when she had been hurt... cupping Pam's face in his hands, Eric sighed. "Are you ok?"
It was the dumbest question he had ever asked her. Of course she wasn't ok. The chain marks, though healing, were still visible. It was no wonder; the silver had been cutting into her for days. He lifted his wrist to his mouth.
"Don't..." she weakly protested, but it was too late.
"Drink," he ordered. He did not miss her eyes rolling before she did as she was told.
Insolent girl...
She only took a couple of mouthfuls before stopping. Without his blood, she would of healed naturally, but with it, she knew the pain would be gone within five minutes if took that long.
"I need a shower," she told him as she headed towards the private one they had in Fangtasia - for cleaning up any nasty accidents. He saw a tear fall as headed past him, though he didn't comment on it. She hadn't slept for two nights, nor had she feed. No doubt, she did have the bleeds and was starved. But he knew his daughter well enough to know the different between the two.
The two of them were connected deeply, just as he had been with Godric. He had to admit, it had been easier for him to be progeny than a maker; he worried over Pam more than he had ever Godric, until the end when he had let himself be taken by the Fellowship of the sun. Pam was his responsibility. He had been with her from day one; he had drained her and filled her with his own blood. His had been the first face she had seen as a baby vampire. She looked to him for direction, for security...
She had been slow to criticize, quick to learn and fast to tease. She kept him on his toes while keeping simultaneously him down to earth. She had understood who he was and not once complained about what he had made her. She was lazy, deeply faulted and at times just plain disobedient. Yet, more than any of those... she was his.
Walking into the office, he fought the natural instinct to follow her. Though he could feel her weakened emotional state, he knew she would not thank him at that moment. So much of her ached... he could not bring harm to her pride on top of everything else she had been through. She needed a while to herself. When she was ready, she'd come to him.
Sitting down at his desk, he felt the hot white anger refill him. He would never forget her screams, not as long as he lived. The pain she had had to go through – and the way she had told him on the phone to run while he could... stupid girl, had she really thought he'd leave her danger?
They say the loss of a child is the deepest of despairs...
He had known the Magister would do it. He would not think twice about it. For the first time in centuries, Eric Northman had been terrified. Truly scared... He could get over the loss of Godric... it hurt, but he would in time. Losing Pam was another matter all together...
He had been shocked when Russell, barsted that he was, had turned on the Magister and killed him. Still, it had saved him a job. No one threatened the life of his daughter and got to live to tell the tale.
Pouring himself a whiskey, he gathered himself. The game was not done yet; it had barely begun, and soon enough the pieces were going to start moving again. He had to be able to play to the best of his abilities and he had to be strong enough to do so. As did Pam...
"Sweetheart," he said as she came into the office, hair still wet, dressed in a bright pink track suit. She looked much more like herself. "Would you like a drink?"
"I just want to go to ground. I'm exhausted." She admitted as she sat on the sofa opposite him. On impulse, he got up to sit by her. He had not – he hadn't felt such an urge to hold her in such a long time.
Turning to face him, she allowed him to caress her cheek before she gave into the emotions that pulled the two of them together and let him take her in his strong arms. Tears once more spilt from her eyes and this time she could neither deny nor hide them from him.
"I am so sorry I took so long to get back to you," he admitted as he held her close and kissed her forehead. Any aspects to their relationship which had not been based on the paternal love he naturally had for her were washed away. She was his daughter solely in that moment, no matter what had been or might be between them in the future.
"It didn't matter how long you took to come. You did."
She had never thought anything else would happen; when she had been human, he had saved her from a meaningless existence. And now he had saved her once more. Had she been Jessica, she knew she would have doubted Bill saving her. But it had been decades since she had had to question the love Eric held for her. There would be humans, whores and even the occasional Sookie Stackhouse. But no one and nothing could supplant her in his heart, such as it was. He would not allow that.
"Oh Fadar," she sobbed at last.
"You were so brave, dotter. I am proud of you. So, so brave..."
Eric Northman had not been looking to be a maker when he had seen his Pamela for the first time. And yet from the first glance he had been unable to take his eyes off of her. She had been... his.
It was (selfishly) hours later when Eric carried Pam to ground. For the first time ever, she had cried herself to sleep in his arms, and he had allowed it. After she had, he had continued to hold her close. He remembered how he had felt when he had lost Godric; he had come far too close to losing his progeny. Since the loss of his maker, she was the sole being he would lay his own life for.
Laying her down, he touched her cheek gently and attempted to shake off the feeling of desperation for affirmation she was there. He had to be able to believe his own eyes. She was safe. Physically, she was healed. When she woke, she would drink deeply, put on a great pair of shoes and be Pam once more.
"I love you," he whispered, stroking her hair as he kissed her forehead for the final time before shutting the coffin and allowing her the blissful sleep she had craved.
They would not speak of that night, but neither would they deny they had needed it. They had to be together.
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Swedish tranlastions – Dotter (daughter) and Fadar (father).