Tapping lightly against the old wooden frame, Eric felt a sense of shame. Some may have felt pangs of guilt or even fear but not Eric Northman; he was here for the help of one he has wronged and needs must be met. Taking in the quaint surroundings and old world feel to this clearly 18th century house, his mind floated back.
"Thomas you complete fool, you really think you can keep me here against my will. I've taken kings and queens to ruin, made holy men beg for their life's, slaughtered thousands and now a peasant boy wishes to keep me in this horrid country". Thomas looked through tears and felt the first bite of hatred reach his stomach, had he not done everything for this demon, the walking dead, loved him, let him sodomize his catholic body, fed him pure blood yet now not he or Ireland could keep him. The new land was calling and nothing was going to stop him. "My dear sweet Eric, I've pleased you for over a year, accepted your perversion and scolded my priest, and still you leave without the decency to kill me. There in layette your problem, you can't kill me can you? Go now, but always remember, you are dead to me and unlike you, I have the power to end you".
All Eric could remember was bearing his fangs as he backed away from Thomas, a rule learned years ago, never turn you back on a natural born Celtic witch, not one with Thomas's power . However, there was only one person that could save him now, the man he emasculated and left unwhole. Footsteps peaked his hearing, time to face the witch!