Notes: Not technically a continuation of the No Regret story, but there is a little tie-in for anyone who has read it. And a big thanks to Krismom again for looking this little story over for me. This may not be the most historically accurate story, I used what was exsisting from CH, and I took the rest from the knowledge I had about the Vikings who discovered my home and native land of Canada. Alas, I am not Charlaine Harris, or anyone else for great importance, so I own none of this.
I told Sookie I had no regrets, and I meant it. I would not have seen everything I had seen, or met her if I had not done what I had done. But, that doesn't mean I never think about it. If I hadn't been a vain man, I would most likely be dead now. I had tried to humble myself, to pay tribute to my grief, but instead it brought me something else. A new life, one that was to be anything but humbling.
We had discussed many topics in her bed since that night, but nothing haunted me the way her questions did on the topic of love. I would never admit it to Sookie, for fear of her misunderstanding, but I have loved many women. Looking back, I know I did not love my wife as a husband should, she was not my choice, but she was a good woman and her death struck me in ways nothing else had.
Many of my people died- my brother in battle, my cousins of illness, my uncle of injury; life was short. But, Aude's death, and the consequences of my reactions to it were far more severe than I would have thought possible at the time. It was common for woman to die in childbirth or from a simple case of the flu. It is most likely Aude and the child perished due to some infection- one that might have been easily cured today with a simple antibiotic.
I remember her scent, a blend of floral and spice. In my darker moments I have wondered what my wife's blood would have tasted like. The day she passed was just a few after the birth of our third child. To her delight- a second daughter. She worried I would be displeased, but with one son growing strong and her and I both in our youth I was contented in the knowledge of my wife's happiness. There would always be the opportunity for more boys, I reasoned.
Aude was having a difficult time nursing the child and had been taken into my mother's care. Only hours after the child's arrival my wife was weak, and feverish. Her skin was pale and hot to the touch, but she shivered through the sweat. The child cried out of hunger and pain and succumbed to the illness within a day. Aude wept for the loss of her daughter- our daughter. I was helpless against its power to claim my wife and was forced to send my children away for fear of the illness spreading.
My clansmen were good husbands, we cared for our wives and children. There was very little mistreatment of women in our village, and if you were the man rumored to be behind such mistreatment you rarely had the chance to make a habit of it. My father would not allow it. It was not my place to sit by her bedside- as that was women's work, but my desire to stay with Aude in her fever and pain was overwhelming. My father would keep me busy, occupied with manly pursuits of hunting and fishing. He would usher me from the bedside of my dying wife and instruct me to "leave her to the women." In the few moments I had with her she was barley conscious and when she was, she spoke of utter nonsense.
My mother was the wife of a chief and received much admiration from the other women in my village. When Aude fell ill, every female tended to her out of respect for my mother and her beloved daughter in law. There were many theories put forth to heal her, but the women did what they knew best- prayed. At last Aude succumbed to the fever and through her labored breathing and crying from the agony of pain she thanked me for her children.
I placed my wife in a stone tomb, the one set aside my kinsmen and their wives. Our clan gathered to put her body to rest and with her best brooch pinned to her chest, I placed the baby on her breast. My world had changed so completely, so quickly. Once I was a husband and father, only to become the lord of an empty home. I had always been a powerful man, a fighter, a provider- no one went hungry in my home. I had fine things, and position, the respect of many. It seemed, suddenly, I had very little.
My children could not be left in the care of their father, so as it was they remained with my female family members to watch over them. It was my duty to find them a new mother, and a caretaker for my home. My father insisted that I remarry at once, and presented the few choices I had available to me. It had been my duty to take Aude as my wife, but in the end she had been a great gift, and I refused to let her passing be just another part of life.
I agreed to my father's arrangement to meet a potential new bride, but I was determined to wear my grief openly. I was well known in my village as not only a brave fighter, but as a desirable lover. I had the facial hair of a true Norseman, and it was a great show of my virility to appear bearded. The day before my ride to the village where my future bride lived, I did something that would allow me to express my pain. I shaved all of my facial hair. Using the blade of my short knife, I stripped my skin of its masculine appearance. My status would be hurt by this gesture, I was sure, but my grief would not allow me to dwell on that. I was powerless against death- but through this act I would come to master it.
My father and I argued over what I had done. He would not allow me to court an important family and seek a new wife "wearing a child's face" he had said. I did not try to explain the sentiment to my father any further. He was a stubborn man and insisted upon waiting for my beard to return before allowing me to pursue his chosen women. I had always been a man of duty, but on this I did not bend.
The meeting was postponed by my chief- my father, and all the while I continued to shave my face. A month passed and his anger grew, and my sorrow had become something else. It was about the honor of my wife as much as it was about the power of my choices. I would marry any woman my father chose for me if he would allow me to address my bare face and the reasons behind it to the woman in question.
My mother convinced him to agree to my conditions and we made some kind of peace with one another. The day arrived for my journey and possible engagement, it was not far and I planned to return by dawn with the promise of a new mother for my children. I mounted my horse and looked upon my family for the last time.
Fridha, my daughter, was dark haired like her mother. Strong and mischievous, she had a smile that always concealed a secret. Before her mother's death she would twirl her fingers in my hair and rub her face in my whiskers. Thordis, my son, was named for my fallen brother. Fair like his father, he was brave and dutiful. The death of his mother made him angry, however and he would not wish me a safe journey that morning. I have not uttered my children's names out loud for a millenium.
My intended wife and her kin were welcoming, and the young woman in question was moved by my actions of grief. She was very young, not more than fourteen years. A beautiful, but silly girl whose head was filled with the bloated tales of her brothers, she told me she found my gesture "romantic." Her father agreed that I had acted honorably and her mother doted on me throughout the meal. I drank heartily with her brothers and found some comfort in their laughter. The hour grew late and the sky darkened as I said my goodbyes to what might have become my second family.
The night was cool, but the drink in my veins kept the chill at bay. The dark path that led to my village was one I knew well and with a bright moon overhead I had no fear of losing my way- no matter how much mead I had taken. Up ahead there lay a man clothed in a very different fashion from my own. He was not one of us. He was a stranger.
A moan of pain or of drunkenness escaped his lips and I dismounted to investigate the situation. Staggering to the bundle of cloth ahead of me I offered the man a hand and asked if he was injured. My attacker sprung, and sinking his fangs into my neck he drank deeply. I had no chance of fighting him off. There was pain, followed by a great desire for sleep. The darkness took me. When I awoke I was no longer myself, no longer human.
Many years later, in a sentimental moment, Appius told me that he had been lonely for a companion, but did not think to make me more than a meal. His mind was changed when he saw my clean shaven face in the style of the Romans. How odd it was- he said, to find me in such an unexpected place. He said he knew that he wanted to keep my beauty near him. He desired me so completely in that moment that he decided to make me his own.
I do not regret my life, either my human or vampire. My vanity has not waned, but my grief is gone.