Sleepless Nights

by SibylVaneWrites

Age of Eric contest entry. A renaissance era tragic love story that spans to 1920's Italy about Eric and his first vampire child. Did he make the right choices?

The Age of Eric Contest

Title: Sleepless Nights

Pen name: SibylVane Vamp

Time Period: Renaissance and Facist Italy (1920's)

Characters: Eric, Appius, Alexei, and Original Character of Eric's first child.

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the true owner of all Southern Vampire Mysteries characters.

A million thanks to the awesome VampLover1 for her beta skills and on such short notice.

Eric hid in the shadow of Milan's Duomo watching as the Blackshirts beat their victim: a man whose tongue was made loose with wine. The scent of his blood filled the air, causing the vampire to fight his desire to jump into the fray. But, that was impossible. He was waiting for his master, and that meant he would not move until his sire arrived. The damaged man lay on his side bleeding from his ears and slipping into unconsciousness. He would not survive the night without serious medical help that would never come. Superior hearing and knowledge of the Italian language informed Eric that Mussolini's enforcers would be moving on soon and taking their prey with them, most likely to die in a prison cell. He had heard stories of the Blackshirts tying their victims to a tree, forcing them to drink castor oil before swallowing a live toad; the beatings were usually only performed by the younger or less creative of the group. None of this bothered him. The former Viking had been a military man himself and had seen less civilized forms of ruling in his long life.

He sensed the senior vampire before he saw him and soon realized his sire was not alone. He took her in with his superior vampire vision. Maria, Eric's child stood in front of him for the first time since breaking with him three hundred years prior. The ageless face that he knew so well, the full hips and bosom he had so often caressed. The memories of all of the sleepless nights they had enjoyed together flooded his senses.

The Italian dictator's policy of viewing women as mothers and little else had inspired many women to abandon the flapper lifestyle and adopt a subdued fashion. Lace, long layers and ultimate femininity were foremost, but Milan was the fashion capital of the country and everyone loved to push the boundaries of society. Maria was not one to follow the polite rules of society and blend in with a crowd; she never had been. Her long dark hair was pinned in curls to her head, and there was a touch of rouge on her lips and cheeks as well as coal outlining her gold-flecked brown eyes. The knee-length dress designed for a smaller, more boyish figure clung to her curves and plunged just enough in the neckline to give a glimpse of her flawless breasts. She dripped with jewels and beading that sparkled in the moonlight, giving off tiny tinkling sounds only they could hear, as the breeze rippled over her. The years Eric had spent mastering his emotions slipped away as she met his eye and a wide smile broke his lips.

"I see you are pleased with my surprise." The voice of his sire broke Eric's thoughts. "Imagine my astonishment when I discovered Maria was in Milan. I have arranged something special for the reunion..." The Roman clapped his progeny on the back and instructed him to follow. "But after we conclude our business." With a slight wave of his hand he dismissed Maria; she held her ground for a moment before nodding silently and turning away. It was clear to Eric that his desires would have to wait.

Appius Livius Ocella had called his Viking child to Italy five months prior asking for assistance in dealing with a very personal problem, sarcastically adding what a good maker Eric had become since they broke with one another. His youngest and most headstrong child, merely a boy at the time of his turning, was causing him much grief. To Eric's surprise, the boy was the only son of the very recently executed Tzar of Russia, Alexander. Alexei, as he was known, was by far the most disturbed young vampire Eric had ever met. He suspected it was due partially to the fact that his maker had subjected him to the intense pain of regenerating lost limbs, and partially from having witnessed the murders of his entire family as well as his own.

At the age of fourteen Alexei would have been considered a man in Eric's time, one capable of taking on a wife and the duties of war. But this boy was from a very different time, and his life had been one of sheltered ignorance. A sickly child given the gift of a second life with the strength gained from his vampire sire, it was doubtful the boy would be able to control himself. Though not powerful enough to best either Ocella or his Viking progeny in a fight, Alexei had the ability to disappear and cause harm to others in a very short span of time.

Eric had watched for five months as his master tried to control the boy, attemtping to tame him and shape him into a proper companion, as he had done with Eric. They had punished and rewarded and commanded, but the boy was damaged in a way Eric found unrelenting. The only saving grace for the boy was music. Appius indulged him in this way, taking him to the theatre and the opera houses, sending for musicians to be brought to him for either entertainment or a meal, sometimes both. Eric would accompany the two vampires on these outings as was his duty, but rarely did he enjoy himself. He had always had a strange relationship with the Roman who had given him his second life, but it had never been this strained before. There was something about this boy that affected his sire in a way which Eric could not move past. Much to his distaste, he had been parted from his own child, the recently turned Pam. His instincts had been correct in keeping her from the reach of his master and not allowing her to accompany him on this journey.

After only twenty-five years together, Eric felt her loss in every moment they were separated. He worried about her safety, but knew he had taught her well and hoped they would be reunited in America soon. Sending her ahead to investigate opportunities in the southern United States was risky, as neither had travelled there before. But he reminded himself that she was more than capable of getting into her own brand of trouble, with or without him. She meant something entirely different to him than Maria had as a new child. He had made sure of that. Shaking himself from his concerns, he focused again on the possible new business Appius had for him to complete.

A few short weeks after his arrival, Eric was asked to secure tickets to the opening night of the unfinished and final Puccini work, Turandot. Glamour was the most promising means by which to gain entry; the more formidable task was in obtaining the proper attire for all three. White-tie tuxedos were not something most vampires travelled with; the likelihood of purchasing off the rack for such a large frame as his own, the childlike stature of the boy, and the broad but short frame of his maker was highly doubtful. After a search of every fashion house in Milan and the work of a skilled tailor, he managed to meet the demands of his assignment. That April evening Milan's opera house, La Scala, was filled with the finest dressed ladies and gentlemen of the region as Eric escorted Alexei and his sire to their seats.

The curtain rose to display the colourful richness of the Orient played out on stage. The opulent fabrics and jewels glistened under the luster of stage lights. Having spent little time in that region, Eric had a sudden desire to return. (If only he were able to blend in better, he very well may have.) The music swelled and pounded through him, but he could not feel a passion for it the way his companions did. As the end of the performance neared and the climax was upon them, the conductor, and former student of the master composer, lay down his baton and announced that there was simply no more written. The adoring masses applauded loudly and the whole theatre began to buzz with chatter. Alexei was outraged and both his brother and father vampires were forced to violently restrain him and find a concealed exit through which to escape.

Since that night Alexei had only worsened. On more than one occasion, Alexei had slipped away and was found lurking outside the home of the conductor. He had been found stalking the tenor who performed the role of the prince as well, often commenting on the beauty of the man. Much to Eric's distress, he feared the reasoning behind his maker having left the boy alone this evening to join him; he was both cautious and curious as to what could be so important. As he pondered the possible consequences he would be forced to deal with, he watched as Maria disappeared into the deserted streets. Once again Eric felt the emptiness that had consumed him since joining his maker in Milan.

"Eric, I am troubled. Alexei is not improving, and you seem unable to provide anything more than an extra set of eyes or ears on him. I was hoping you would have a calming influence on him, or perhaps you could make him see that you and I have a bond of love and respect. But he seems unreachable."

The Viking waited to make sure it was his turn to speak but found he was unable to form the correct words right away. "I am sorry to have been a disappointment to you Ocella; I am not sure how to approach this situation with the boy, as my knowledge as a maker is very limited." Apologizing was always the best option with the senior vampire.

"Maybe Maria's presence will calm you and, in turn, calm your brother. I have noticed your mood as of late and it may be clouding your abilities. Alexei has been very troublesome this evening while you were out hunting for a warm body on your own. He was commanded not to leave the suite, so he ordered room service and created quite a mess of bodies. I had no choice but to set fire to the room and flee with him. He is quite literally grounded until tomorrow evening. We may have no choice but to leave Milan sooner than I had planned if he continues to make these stupid mistakes. It will not be easy to remove him while he is still obsessed with Puccini, though. He has taken to strolling by the opera house, the conservatory, and the homes of the composer's disciples."

"Can we not simply take him to another performance? I understand the story was completed by another?"

"It was, and that is my desire. I wish for you to secure four tickets, by any means necessary, to the performance next week. We must not speak of this in front of him; I do not wish to encourage this obsession."

"Four?"

"Of course, one for Maria."

Eric struggled with the idea of his first child under the influence of his maker. She had only met him once previously and that had been near the end of her travels with Eric, when things were most fragile between them. Appius had chided him for his choice and pushed for him to part ways with her. Eric could have commanded her to stay, but knowing her will, he did not try to force her to love him any longer. In the end, his sire had known what was best for him, and after a time he did not think on her. When his need for a companion became too great he had chosen more wisely in Pam. He had no association with her previous to her turning; he had watched her and knew her spirit was one he could relate to, but he did not desire her. He would not make a mistake like that again.

Ocella had made himself understood and left in search of sport and food, (often one and the same). Eric was left alone with his mission and a description of where to find shelter from the sunlight. Only when both were sated with blood and ready for their daily rest were they to reunite.

After a quick nip from an obligingly glamoured young woman, Eric fought once again to keep from reflecting on his relationship with Maria. The historic city reminded him of the first time he had been to Italy, the first time he had met her. How his love for her would cause him to make a choice that would lead to him losing her.

Having travelled with Appius to nearly every corner of Europe, Eric had met every kind of woman and tasted them all, but Appius had never taken him to the country of his own origins. When they did break after many centuries, Eric had an overwhelming desire to visit Italy. Having spent much of the previous years enjoying the spoils of the destruction caused by the black plague throughout France, he was elated to find a new world in Tuscany.

The people were vibrant, the countryside stunning, but the cities had the same familiar smell that humans created in large populated areas. Florence was one of the largest cities in Europe and one that had been depleted by the sickness for such reasons; but as the disease waned, the desire to celebrate and explore every aspect of life blossomed. A wealthy and well connected family known as the Medici's helped bring Florence into a new age of prosperity and allowed the merchant class to thrive through the family's influence and management of funds. As bankers and traders they formed delicate alliances with the surrounding states and nations. Eric usually took little notice of the political climates of the humans among which he mingled, but Lorenzo the Magnificent, as he was known, was hard to ignore. Everyone buzzed with the knowledge that Medici was meeting with Ferdinand of Naples in the hopes of parting the Pope from his ally.

Florence provided him with many new experiences, but nothing had inspired him to stay in the city the way she did. In the spring of 1480 he saw her. And she saw him. Walking without a male chaperone she and her mother, an equally striking and statuesque woman, passed him on the street; they were leaving the home of a man whom he would later learn was named Alessandro di Mariano, a man better known as Sandro Botticelli. Her gown was simple but elegant, and her rich brown hair was weaved in a series of complicated knots and piled under a lace coverlet. As she moved past him, their eyes met and she continued to watch him as her mother led her away. He could tell she saw him and knew he regarded her, but it didn't seem to frighten the girl. Eric watched her from the shadows, every night seeking her out and learning what he could about her. He suspected she was aware of him somehow, but if she was she didn't let on.

He discovered much about her in that first week. Maria Francesca DeGallo was her name and she was just sixteen years old. Her mother, Francesca DeGallo was somewhat infamous in the region as the kind of woman who lived her life against the teachings of the church. Most people looked the other way because of her associations with important men, connections that a woman with no husband would not normally be afforded.

Francesca had her own tale of woe which everyone seemed to know the intimate details of. The story was that Francesca had a very brief affair with a wealthy landowner named Giovanni Di Lazio, whose wife was with child at the time. The affair resulted in a pregnancy that Giovanni refused to recognize; so, Francesca was disowned by her family and took on the name of the region she was from as her own. She worked menial jobs to support her child, but her natural charms set her apart and as the Renaissance began to bloom she found work as a model with many local artists. Having grown up in such a non-traditional manner, Maria was quite different from many of the girls in the city-state. Most notably, she was not a woman of the ruling class, yet she had been taught to read and write and do basic arithmetic. Many were of the opinion that she would never be considered suitable for marriage to any man of worth, nor would any man of her status wed a woman more educated than himself.

He also learned that Giovanni's wife was with child for the ninth time and had been confined to bed in an effort to maintain the pregnancy. All but two of her children had been lost in childbirth or shortly after.

After two weeks of watching her, studying her, Eric decided he needed to taste her. He had never been so apprehensive about approaching a woman before; his good looks and ability to put his subject at ease, even without the use of glamour, had always given him the confidence to speak to any woman, no matter her beauty or station.

She sat alone in the gardens of one of the many Medici villas which housed a number of her mother's patrons, a pencil in hand as she sketched the landscape by moonlight.

He purposefully moved without the grace his supernatural abilities allowed him as not to startle her with his silent approach. Drawing closer he could smell her tears. The salty sweetness made him salivate, but curiosity made him push aside his hunger for her. She wiped her face quickly and silently with the back of her hand before turning to look up at him.

"You are different," she said. At least that was what he had managed to pick up of the still unfamiliar language. Her voice was low and musical, as if every word was a song composed for him exclusively.

Stumbling over the odd words that formed on his tongue, he answered, "Yes, I am not from this country."

Taking in his difficulty with her native tongue, she smiled and made a gesture as she spoke, indicating that much was obvious.

"You are more than that, the brightness of your skin, the way you move. I have noticed you in the darkness." She had not moved, and her voice remained steady.

"Are you afraid?" He kept his tone flirtatious.

"What would I have to fear now that my life is to belong to another? The only thing I fear now are the sleepless nights ahead."

He was enchanted by this woman more and more with every passing moment. She was not afraid of being caught alone with an unknown man who may have wished to harm her. Most stimulating was her attitude, considering she had known him as more than human without his meaning her to. He was intrigued by her openness and wished to see how far he could push her. Leaning down and asking silent permission to sit next to her he heard her heart answer with a pounding yes.

"My name is Eric. What if I were to tell you that I am no longer human and that my interest in you this evening is to taste your blood and make you forget we ever met?"

"I would ask why you had chosen me for this and perhaps try to convince you otherwise." Her eyes were brimming with the conviction of her words, but her pounding heart and the fresh scent of her arousal informed the vampire that she would welcome his touch.

In his many years, never had a woman stood so firmly against him. The spread of the Catholic church and the fears they had instilled in so many rarely allowed Eric to speak freely of his true nature without the need to restrain or glamour his prey. He mused over her responses, wondered if she had some knowledge of the supernatural. Maybe it was the influence of these enlightened thinkers of her youth that had changed the nature of humanity to shy away from caution in the face of curiosity.

"You are interesting to me, unlike other women. I can give you great pleasure, and all I ask in return is a little sip." He gave her a sensual smile with his fangs fully extended, hopeful about what her reaction would be to his unveiling and the confirmation of her suspicions.

A slight hue lit up her cheeks but passed so briefly that someone untrained in the study of human behaviour might have viewed it as an illusion caused by shadows in the night.

"I should not be having this conversation with a man I do not know, even more so now that I am to be given to another." She stifled her tears while gathering up her belongings, and without looking back she ran off towards the villa.

Eric did not chase her; he didn't want her to fear him. He watched her body sway with the quickness of her steps and imagined how much sweeter she would taste when she willingly accepted him. His seduction of her would take time, but he had all the time in the world. And in a large city such as Florence, no one would notice his presence for some time.

The next evening Eric awoke with the intention of seeking out Maria again in hopes of catching her alone, but she and her mother had taken to seclusion. As Eric approached the well-known dwelling of Francesca's patron, the painter Botticelli, he was met with the guards of the Medici property. Avoiding the violence that might draw attention to himself, the vampire convinced the men he was a friend of the artist and was allowed entry.

Upon entering he noticed how the scent of wine and cheese filled the stale air and knew he had come calling while the master was at his supper table. His light, almost red-tinted head of flowing curls turned to take in the stranger. A man whom many would call beautiful for his day, with a pouting mouth and sleepy brown eyes, had a look which Eric had seen many times in the faces of Roman art. An inviting arm gestured for Eric to enter and state his business as the man wiped his lips with a fine piece of linen and stood from his work table. Candlelight illuminated a sketch of many men and women in a forest, a childlike god floating above.

"Sir, I have come to speak to you about Francesca DeGallo and her daughter. The girl is of interest to me but stubborn to my advances."

"Maybe because you are a foreigner." The painter's smile grew as he said these words with flawless use of the language, reminding Eric once again that he needed to improve upon his Florentine Italian. "Why come to me? I am not the girl's father."

"As I understand it, you have some influence over her mother; and where the mother goes, the daughter goes." He left the words hanging between them, hoping the man would see his plight; if not he would find another way to get what he wanted.

"Well, I am afraid you have come too late. Any influence I have is already being put to use to benefit Francesca's needs, but it is doubtful I will be of much assistance in the end. My master needs the debt repaid badly enough to ignore the wishes of either myself or any others who serve him."

"Please explain. I am, as you say, a foreigner."

"The girl is to be given to Carlo San Luca in return for her father's payment to the bank of the Medici's."

"I was under the impression the girl was a bastard, not claimed by her father."

The painter went on to explain that Giovanni's only son was thrown from his horse and died some days prior. His wife's most recent pregnancy ended in yet another lost child, and his only other living offspring was a young sickly girl he intended to enter into the service of the church. When his debt was called in, he had no means to provide funds. So, Giovanni offered his only other daughter, Maria. Carlo, a man known for his tendency towards young wives, agreed to an exchange: Maria for the payments. It was a well known fact that Carlo, a man in his forties, had already married a number of young women who, after displeasing him in some way or another, had died by accident.

"If money is what he wishes, I would gladly pay his debt. Could you arrange such a thing?"

"That is most noble of you, but it would be a great insult to San Luca to back out of the agreement. And Carlo has many important business dealings with the ruling family. As I have said, Francesca has pleaded with me to see her daughter spared, but it is unlikely she will see any success."

Eric knew that to be true. A woman of no station, without a husband, was little more than a slave and would have no rights as a mother once the father stepped in. He found he was overly concerned for the girl's welfare and that struck him as odd. He had not experienced human companionship beyond a bite and a bed in many centuries; but there was something about her. Not only did he wish to taste her in every way he knew, but he wanted to speak to her, to figure her out.

"Thank you for your time, you are a most generous man." It was not often the vampire paid a human a genuine compliment, but he was impressed by the man before him. He excused himself with a respectful nod of the head.

"May I have the pleasure of your name before you go, sir?"

"Eric Northman," he replied over his shoulder, wondering why he had allowed himself to offer such truth to the artist in a time when he was so unsure of his surroundings.

Combing through the city and adjoining towns, Eric sought out the object of his desires in an attempt to discover the authenticity of the painter's words. At last he caught a scent of her near the Palazzo Medici and followed it with only a few remaining hours before the sun would force him to seek shelter. The sound of muted whispers drew his attention to an alleyway off the piazza.

There, sitting on the filthy street, Francesca cried into her daughter's arms and confessed that she could not find a way around the ill-fated marriage. As she stroked her mother's auburn hair, she explained that the only tears she need shed would be those caused by the separation of the two from one another. The clever Maria intended to escape her father's grasp and like Francesca had, she would leave her name behind. The sobs grew in the darkness as her mother protested against this plan to disobey the wishes of her father. Once parted from her mother her choices were limited to housework as a maid or in the beds of paying costumers who were likely to treat her as poorly as a husband. Her daughter could not be swayed, intending to escape north and hopefully find sanctuary in Milan.

The vampire yearned to intervene and spare the girl the trials of what she suggested, but as he drew nearer the women were startled by the noise of the street urchins who took up shelter in the concealed spaces of the city. Francesca was nearly inconsolable as her daughter hauled her to her feet and hustled her away into the night. There was precious little time for Eric to return to his daylight resting place and see to the women. He chose to retire and search for Maria the following evening. His best hope was in a cloudy sky and his ability to fly unnoticed in order to find her faster than on foot.

Eric soon discovered that the need to track his desired prey was no longer a concern. As he made his way towards her last known whereabouts in hopes of picking up a trail, he stumbled across Francesca raging outside the window of an inn.

"You cannot take my daughter from me! You care nothing for her!" she shouted at the facade, with no evidence that someone was listening.

Eric knew it would not be long before someone came to cart her away and deal with a woman causing a scene such as this. Likely she would be taken to an asylum and locked away as suffering some mental affliction, never able see her daughter or patrons again. Sweeping her away from the street with a speed only he could manage, he placed a hand over her mouth and gripped her in his arms of iron.

"Woman, calm yourself. You will never be permitted to see your child if you continue on this path. I will relax my grip if you can refrain from screaming." He spoke directly into her ear, emphasizing each word in his muddled Italian. Her nod came quickly and he knew he was understood. Releasing her mouth and his arms he turned her to face him, but kept a hand on her shoulder, should she disobey. "Explain," he commanded, prepared to use mind control if need be to keep the woman composed.

"My daughter, my daughter," she began to panic again, but with a sharp look from her captor she took a breath and began again. "My daughter, he has taken her. Her father wishes her to marry a man of his choosing and she is helpless against him. She knew of this plot and decided to flee the city in hopes of evading her father, but a girl travelling alone is easy to locate and soon her father's hired man had her. He has her now in his room as a prisoner, and I am helpless to stop him. He had loved me once, but his ambition and greed have taken up residence in his heart. I am not permitted to see her." Her poetic words were broken with sharp breaths as she tried to contain her sobs. Realizing that she had confessed her situation to this unknown man, she suddenly looked ashamed of her extreme actions in an effort to stop the inevitable.

"Who are you? What interest is any of this to you?" Her tone took on an edge of wariness as she examined his face more closely.

"I have an interest in your daughter. I can help you in this; you will likely never see her again, but you will have to trust she will be safe. If this is her choice."

"If she chooses you, I am willing to give her up." Francesca sighed at the thought of delivering her daughter into the hands of any man, but this one seemed the lesser of two evils. Somewhat defeated, she explained to the strange man in front of her that Giovanni would take her away to his country home until the wedding, which would likely be rushed to avoid further embarrassment.

Armed with new knowledge of the inn and its occupants, Eric instructed the woman to return to her home, promising to soon bring Maria to her for her final farewell. Entering under the pretense of renting a room, he quickly gained access to the inn without any suspicion. The thick stone walls made it difficult to pick up the voice of his enemy, but her scent led him to the correct door. Listening to the sounds of the chamber before him he heard nothing but the laboured breathing of an injured human and the sound of ink being scratched on paper. Knocking lightly, he attempted to talk his way in, but his knock was ignored as the sound of writing stopped.

"Sir?" he asked politely to the door.

"Go away," a rough male voice came back at him.

"But sir, the Doctor you sent for is here."

"Doctor?" The squeal of the chair being forcibly pushed backwards came as the man hoisted himself from the worn wood. Heavy footfalls moved with an irritated step as Eric readied himself.

As the door swung inward so did the vampire's fist. Too quickly for the man to react, he was flat on his back, most likely suffering from a broken nose. Eric stepped over him, closed the door and effortlessly placed the man on the bed while scanning the room for its other inhabitants. He saw her hunched over in the corner of the room, the smell of her blood filling his nostrils, but before he could reach her he had to deal with her warden.

"Giovanni," he said in his hypnotic tone used to replace the memories of those he wished rather not remember him. "Maria died at your brutal hands and you buried her amongst the trees in your hunting grounds. In your depression over losing your only asset with which to clear your debt, you overindulged with drink and engaged in a nasty fight with a vagrant. He broke your nose and you awoke here with a cloudy memory. Now you are sleepy."

His business concluded, he raced to the side of the helpless girl and examined her. Her face would be swollen by morning, most likely her left eye so much so it would be difficult for her to see; her jaw was dislocated and one of her ribs broken; some scrapes on both of her arms; a split lip and a loose tooth brought the list to a close. Disoriented and in great pain, the girl hung limp in his arms as he carried her to the roof. Taking flight he cradled her warm body close to his and veered towards her shared home with her mother.

The woman stood in the open doorway looking nervous, every sound made her jump and her eyes sharpened to scrutinize every movement in the darkness. Gliding to the doorway the vampire asked for entry and was granted it before Francesca had opportunity to look upon her daughter too closely. By candlelight her child's wounds would look worse to the untrained eye, such as hers. Washing the blood from her daughter's face with one hand, she stroked her hair with the other as she hummed a somber tune. Looking up at the Viking, she saw no malice and thanked him for his intervention.

"I wish to have a moment with her, in return." He spoke softly in an effort to put the mother at ease.

"She is not able to speak now, what could you wish to do with her in this state?" Francesca raised a sceptical eyebrow at him and gritted her teeth as she said these words, wishing she had not made a bargain with this man.

"My intentions are honourable, but I wish to be alone with her, just for a moment."

Still hesitant but unsure how to refuse such a man, she stepped out into the night. Leaving the door open just enough for some of the light to spill into the street, she was unable to hear his words but certain to read his actions with the movements of his shadow.

Placing his mouth next to her ear he whispered, "Maria, I am going to give you something to heal you enough to allow you to speak. I will not force anything more on you; I simply want you to make a choice." He had never given his blood to a human before, and though he knew that even if she refused his offer he would be aware of her from then on, he didn't think on it for long.

Pricking his finger on one of his fangs he rubbed his healing blood onto her lips until she responded. As she opened her mouth to accept his gift, she let out a small cry of pain. After a few more drops of blood she was able to open her eyes, though one was still bruised and her jaw began working well enough for her to communicate.

"What are you?" her meek but musical voice whispered in return.

"Vampire." He waited for a fearful reaction from the girl, but none came. She smiled as best she could with her fragile face. "I can take you away from all of this. You could be mine. My human, my lover. We would share something rare and beautiful, and if a time came that you wished to become as I am you would live beyond the life of a human and know what it means to be immortal. I will show you the world. Will you yield to me?"

"I don't know you… what if I cannot love you?" Her question hung between them as he fought the urge to profess his own growing affection for her.

"You may not, and if that is your choice I will honour it. I would never force myself on a woman. Either way, I will spare you this life and give you something more. I have never been captivated by anyone this way before and though it is against all of my instincts to care deeply for a human, I find I cannot keep myself from you." He would not look her in the eye as he spoke. As he had been taught by his maker, emotion was the last hurdle to clear as he conquered what remained of his human life; and he could not bear to admit this creature had banished his indifference. Her warm hand gripped his, and he looked up, catching her tender gaze.

"I think I could love you, Eric. I'm sure it is no surprise to you that any woman would desire you." A teasing smile played on her lips and he knew that her spirit was one he would never tire of. "I wish to join you, to become yours. For you to become mine. I was right about my sleepless nights ahead, but I no longer fear them."

He embraced her as though made of glass, but she responded with more strength than he thought possible. Calling Francesca back into the chamber Eric excused himself to let the women discuss Maria's decision. As far as she was told, Eric Northman was a wealthy merchant who travelled from northern Europe in search of the best trade routes and markets. He was enthralled by Maria's charms and could make use of her knowledge and education. Having dealt with Giovanni, she was free to leave, but everyone must believe her dead in order for Francesca to avoid falling under suspicion of the authorities should Maria's escape come to light. The girl would remain hidden in her mother's home until the following night when Eric would come to collect her. Francesca was to remain in a state of mourning for her lost daughter and accept no visitors.

Before going to ground for his daylight rest, Eric reset Maria's bones and provided her with the remaining blood she would need to heal properly. He instructed her to rest and for her mother to use the money he left to make sure her daughter was well fed.

When he returned that night, Maria was dressed in her finest gown, looking as though she had never met with the cruel hands of her father. Her hair was set in a tight bun with loose curls framing her face. She shone in the candlelight and her cheeks coloured as her vampire entered the room. With parting love from her mother, she lifted her few belongings and grasped Eric's large hand in her own small one.

Eric had arranged for the two to walk a short distance to a neighbouring village where he had purchased a cart and horse for Maria's comfort which would take them anywhere she wished to visit. They walked along the road hand in hand, talking of everything their lives had been before and what their lives would be now. Eric was patient with her and her hesitation to speak to him as boldly as he knew she was capable of. He explained to her what he knew of the bond they would share and that he would feed from her when she was ready. This would, of course, be a very pleasant experience. Surprising him, which was one of the things he had not yet learned to expect from her, she led him off the road and into the cover of a nearby forest.

Loosening her dress and letting it drop before him, she stood under the shroud of trees, proudly displaying her bronze skin. His body responded and his fangs slid from their hiding place, but he hesitated.

"You wish to seal our bond?"

"Yes, I am not afraid, but I have never..."

Closing the space between them he kissed her for the first time. Knowing the need to be gentle in every way, he laid her head on a bundle of clothing and caressed her softly. She began to moan and move with the pleasure he so desired to give her. His own lust increased at the very thought of her enjoyment, and as he moved within her, he knew what it meant to be the second half of a whole. As the pace increased and they both began to climax he lowered his head to the inside of her arm and bit down, releasing himself in her as the sweetness of her blood filled him. They lay in each other's arms as she panted and stroked his sculpted chest.

Maria remained his human companion and lover for four years, until a time of illness and unrest. He feared for her during his daytime sleep and offered her the choice of becoming vampire. She desired to stay with him always, and so in her twentieth year of human life, she died and awoke to a new one as Eric's first child.

After 150 years of love and passion, Maria became restless and wished to be free of her master. She began to resent his presence and though never hateful or uncaring, she had grown beyond what two vampires could share. She desired to experience the other artists of the world, and to taste the exotic flavours of Africa and see the new world that the powers of Europe had created. With reluctance her maker allowed the curiosity of youth to encompass her, knowing that when she tired of it she would return to him. A proverb reminded him that if he loved her he would free her.

Now, he found himself faced with the realization that she had not pined for him in his absence the way he had for her. Many years of his waking hours had been spent agonizing over calling her to him and reminding her of why she had given herself to him all those years before. But she was not the Maria he had made, and he had been too blind to see her grow into a vampire with her own needs. Seeing her again after nearly 300 years had sparked a melancholy mingled with his joy.

As he concluded his chores set by his own maker and secured the tickets for the opera, he tried to settle himself into a comfortable position in which to rest until the daylight receded again and he would know more of his child's feelings about their separation.

His return to La Scala Opera House was no more memorable than that of the previous visit, but the tension that overwhelmed him distracted from the indulgent atmosphere the wealthy of Milan were so fond of creating. Dressed in the same white tie tuxedo and holding tightly to the arm of the young boy in his care, he watched the crowds for any sign of the woman who still held his attention after nearly five hundred years. The herds of affluent Italians seemed to part as the vampire made her way to the side of her maker and his charge, Appius appearing at his side. Their party complete, the oldest and most powerful amongst them led the group to their balcony seats. Maria shone in her gold cowl-necked curve-hugging satin dress. The low dip in the back exposed more of her untarnished skin as her warm brown locks tumbled down over her shoulders. He didn't think it imaginable, but somehow she had become more beautiful in the time they had been estranged. He longed to reach out and brush her arm with his fingers but this was not the time.

The curtain rose for a second time on the set as the story of the princess and her suitor began again. This time, Eric was immersed in the story unfolding before him and began to listen with a clarity he had not possessed upon first viewing. The brutality of the princess as a woman who wished to never marry was something he had overlooked before. Any man wishing to ask her hand was required to answer her riddles in order to gain her as a wife. No man had ever been successful and as a result, each suitor was beheaded. The bloodthirsty crowds watched as each man met his end with the stroke of a blade.

After learning of his deposed father's plight and blindness, from a slave girl who is secretly in love with him, another brave prince emerges to challenge the riddles presented. Determined to restore the family to royal glory and enthralled with the charms of Turandot, he approaches and signals his desire to wed the girl. After much pleading from his father and from Turandot's own advisers, he tells them his love is too great and he will gladly wed her or die. She agrees to his challenge with mocking laughter.

As the sun rises the Emperor encourages the prince to forget the pursuit of his daughter, but again the prince refuses this advice. Retelling the folklore of her ancestors Turandot recounts the time of the bloody reign of the princess warrior who once ruled and lives again in her, but the prince is not swayed and requests to hear the first riddle.

"What is born each night and dies each dawn?" the soprano asks her suitor in response.

"Hope," he answers.

She proceeds to ask her second riddle, "What flickers red and warm like flame, but is not fire?"

"Blood," Maria whispered from beside Eric to be echoed by the prince on stage.

The masses cheer his correct answers and hope that at last the princess will have a husband. Turandot is undone by this and grows angry. Asking her last and final riddle, "What is ice, but burns as fire does?"

The prince teases her in asking how she is so cold and yet burns every man. His reply is shouted, "It is Turandot!"

He is triumphant in his pursuit and the princess must now concede to marry him. Sobbing at her father's feet, she begs to be released. Not able to bear her tears, the prince proposes that if the princess can tell him his name by the next dawn he will die by her hand. She accepts, ordering that no one in the city shall sleep until the name has been discovered. "Nessun dorma," his soulful song proclaimed that none shall sleep that night.

Watching the prince sing of his assured victory to the sleepless city and to the princess who paces in her palace, Eric's emotions rose. He had been that man, so sure of his triumph to win the woman he desired. He feared, as his story had, that this one would also end in defeat at the hands of the woman he loved. Glancing at Maria he could see she was equally moved by the music, as the prince sang of the sleepless night before him. She met his eye and acknowledged in that one moment all that had passed between them. As the voice of the tenor swelled with the music, he fought to keep his crimson tears from his eyes.

The prince is offered women, riches, anything else he wishes for, if he will give up Turandot, but he refuses. Just as he says these words, a group of soldiers storm the stage and declare they have found those consorting with the prince. His blind father and the loyal slave girl are presented before the princess as she demands to know the prince's name. The prince claims they know nothing, but the slave confesses that only she knows his name and will not give it up. Upon the girl's refusal, Turandot orders her torture, but even under the pain of the demands she will not give up his name. When asked what gives her strength, she says it is love. Under further torture she taunts the princess about her coldness and as a means of showing her the meaning of love she stabs her own heart with a dagger stolen from a soldier's belt. As her body falls, the crowd demands she call out the prince's name with her dying breath, but she does not.

As the climax neared and the final conclusion of the story about to end for the party of opera goers, Alexei moved nearer the edge of his seat and stared with great interest at the unfolding scene. Eric's hand found his way to Maria's with no trouble and she accepted it willingly. A familiar sensation crept through him as his thumb danced lightly across the back of her hand. Everyone was captivated by the love story before them, and much to his surprise, Eric found himself despising the princess and her suitor for allowing the girl to die. He had known what it was to love like that and having sworn himself to never suffer it again, he couldn't help but identify with the slain figure on stage.

The prince's father is told of the events unfolding before him and cries out, cursing all present for not being ashamed. The crowd departs as the girl's body is carried away. The prince scolds his intended for her cruelty and names her the Princess of Death. Despite her rejection, he takes her in his arms and kisses her.

Alexei dared not move for fear of being attacked by his companions, but he could not help feeling the desire to stand and take in every moment that was upon him. This would be his ending, the story would be complete. As Eric looked around he noticed other men and women were getting to their feet to take in the remaining moments of the performance. A quiet descended on the audience as the next words spoken broke the barrier of what had been left unfinished.

The prince tries one last time to convince Turandot to love him, and with his kiss he accomplishes this. She insists that if he asks her to leave and take his name with him, he will be spared. He speaks his name to her and tells her that his life is now in her hands.

Dawn comes and standing before the people, her father and the prince, Turandot announces his name. Love, she tells them. The cheers are uproarious and the curtain falls on the lovers.

Turning to Maria, Eric squeezed her hand in his own. She smiled in return and as she stood she gripped him more closely to her. Appius took his young child under his arm and the family of vampires made their way to the streets.

As the theatre emptied and the people dispersed they found themselves alone and silent in the glow of the streetlamps.

"I wish she had killed him." Alexei was the first to speak.

Laughing, Appius pulled the boy to his chest and replied, "This boy knows the true nature of love."

There was a change in the boy, but it was only the subtlest of differences. In no way could the child be considered fixed, and Eric knew of the effect this would have on his maker over the years. But, it had not been his choice to make the boy one of them. He had thought of his own past mistakes, but they stood at his side in a golden dress. Sensing the tension between his child and his grandchild, Appius excused himself and motioned Eric aside, thanking him for his help. Soon he would depart and Eric would be free once again from his master to seek his own will.

"Are you terribly upset with me still, Master?" the voice which had replayed in his head over the years asked him once they were alone.

"Not upset, just in love. I have missed you, but knowing you would not come back to me without my calling has been the hardest. The sleepless nights I have spent without you have seemed both too long and too short." Towering over her he leaned down to kiss her hair.

"I did not mean to hurt you, but I had moved beyond the love I could share with you. Your hold on me will always be, but now you reside in my heart as a loyal friend. I cannot help but feel the lust surrounding me when near you now as I remember what we once were, but I know it would only serve to sever us further from one another in the end should I allow myself such indulgence."

"I understand, dearest. We will always share a life once lived, but you took me by surprise and I have opened the wounds long healed of my own accord. The fault is not with you."

Maria embraced him and pulling her tightly to him he struggled with the strength to let her go. At last his arms released, and darkness engulfed her as she ran out of sight. His eyes swam with red as he allowed himself to cry at last.

Composing himself, the Viking set off in search of his own master to make another farewell. Moving about the city as a ghost he made no rush of his quest. Knowing he would likely not return to this city for fear of drudging up more unwanted memories, he looked on it without the distraction of his brother's mischief. The air had a crispness to it that washed him of his tension. The near-silent sound of his feet on the stones beneath him took on a comforting rhythm as he strolled the deserted arteries of Milan. Feeling the influence of his sire as he neared the Arch of Peace at the end of Sempoine Park, he veered off the pavement towards the lake.

He approached the solitary vampire to find his maker's face stained with the sanguine tears he did not expect to see.

"I fear he is beyond repair," the usually controlled senior vampire confessed. "Not an hour and already he had evaded me, no doubt into another mess I must deal with. I can see you do not approve of my choice, and so I will not trouble you with any more of my worries."

"Who am I to judge?" The Viking sat himself next to his vampire father and grasped him by the arm in an effort to offer some comfort. "I know things have been strained between us, but all you need do is say so, and I will help you locate Alexei."

"I should be able to find him by blood, but his mood shifts so quickly that he is harder to pin down. I will ask nothing of you beyond this night." Appius looked up at his child with shame in his eyes.

With a nod from Eric, the vampires departed in opposite directions with the intention of locating the boy. Just a few steps outside the park Eric felt something unexpected.

Agony ripped through him, as though his skin was on fire and his head filled with bullets. Panic came quickly as he recognized the pain was not his own. Maria! His brain shouted at him as he took to the sky not caring who might see. There, not a mile away he found her.

Silver burn lines across her wrists and throat; her legs both forcibly removed; multiple knives protruding from her torso. The twisted smile of a bloody faced vampire looked up at him from over her body. Alexei's eyes seemed to glow with menace as he beheaded the vampire beneath him.

Descending from the air, the grief struck Eric with such a wave of torment he tumbled from the sky. As the body of his one-time lover and most precious child disintegrated before him, his bitterness flowed along with his tears.

Lunging for the inferior vampire, he caught hold of the boy and pinned him to the ground. Sitting atop him he demanded to know the reasoning behind such an act.

"Why?" he shouted, pummelling Alexei with his fist. "She was of no threat to you." His words became incoherent as he broke every bone in the vampire's arms.

"Stop, Eric! I cannot allow this." The authoritative voice of his Roman maker fought against Eric's desire to make Alexei feel as much pain as anyone could ever feel.

Rising to his feet and allowing the Romanov to flee was all he could do in the presence of his powerful master. But to his astonishment, the boy did not run.

"Alexei, I demand to know why you have done this?" Appius cast a look at each of his children, torn over what it was that could lead to such a terrible ordeal.

"I was freeing my brother. He should not have made this one," he motioned to the remaining ash that was once Maria. "You told me so yourself."

Eric's hateful eye turned to his sire with a look of disgust.

"While it was true that I did not approve of your choice to make her one of us, it was for unselfish reasons. I have expressed as much to you. Making a lover into a child only leads to misery when one tires of the other. Humans have the right idea about love, death do thee part, an eternity of love could never be. Creatures like us are not made for it."

"So, you allowed this? I must obey, but I will not forget. You have chosen his love over mine." Eric's steely words hissed from his mouth.

"I am not allowing it, I am not condoning it. I can see this has come too far for us." Appius's face became stained with new tears as he leapt into the air and removed the head of his newest creation. As the second vampire body expired, Appius staggered and fell to his knees, cupping his face in his hands. In his view, he and his remaining child were now even in their losses.

Eric did not see it that way. Leaving his master with the body of the boy he had let live too long, he could not bring himself to look back.

He left Italy the next night and vowed never to return. The loss of Maria was the most horrendous event in his existence and the memory of the pain he felt would haunt him for the rest of his sleepless nights. Heading for a new world in America, he was hopeful for the first time in months. In looking upon the face of his child Pam, he was now certain he would feel a satisfaction he thought he could never experience again. One day he would welcome the kind of love he had enjoyed with Maria again, but he would consider his choices more closely before turning another lover into a child.