A/N: Thank you so much for all the nice reviews I have recieved for the first chapter. I'm glad so many of you liked it. This chapter is pretty long and I tried to read over it to make sure that every thing flowed smoothly and spelling was correct. If I missed anything, oops. Just try to ignore it :D Please continue to R and R.
Britta laid in her coffin but failed to sleep. The night had been a long one full of hungry vampires and humans with weird fetishes. It was the same thing six nights a week. Sometimes she was excited when the sun would rise and she could retire to her sanctuary and be alone. She did consider herself alone, even if Eric and Pam rested only a few feet away.
She ran a finger over the smooth glossy finish that surrounded her.
Britta could feel the blood pouring from her ears. She had the bleeds. It was probably pushing noon since the pressure on her body was overwhelming. She shifted positions, but failed to fully rest. The shifted once again.
"Eric!" She paused at the sound of Pam's voice.
"What, Pam?" He said in a muffle.
"Tell her to lie the fuck still before I permanently put her to rest."
"I'd like to see you try." Britta muttered. It wasn't in her nature to talk back but sometimes it was a necessity when it came to this particular bitch.
Pam seemed to forget that Britta was ten times her age and a little reminder every now and then couldn't hurt.
"You wanna say that to my face, little girl?"
"No thanks. I've seen enough of your middle aged mug to last an eternity."
The sound of Eric chuckling had then halting. "This is different," he said.
"She started it." Britta responded.
"If you would sleep like the dead during the day like a normal vampire, we wouldn't be having a problem...freak," Pam muttered the last word.
"If you had died on the street like you were suppose to, I wouldn't be forced to live with a filthy whore."
Britta's coffin whirled around and she braced her hands on the sides to keep steady. The lid to her enclosure opened and she noticed that Pam had been victim to the same fate. Great. Was he going to ground them or something?
She looked up into Eric's face. He had the bleeds as well...all three of them did. Was she really that annoying for everyone to still be awake?
But her Maker's expression didn't hold any anger. He looked from one 'child' to the other and waited. What was he waiting for?
"Seriously, Eric?" Pam started.
"Seriously, Pam. Since the two of you seem to have so much to say to one another, why not do it face to face."
"Because she's a spoiled little brat who needs to get over herself and realize that she's not the center of your universe any longer."
"I have no problem sharing, Eric. My problem is sharing him with you." Britta realized what she said and quickly tried to correct her mistake. "Not that I need to share him. I don't give a rat's ass either way what he does."
"Obviously you do. For the past 108 years all you have done is pout and say how much you hate me."
"You hate me just as much."
Pam laughed sarcastically. "You're right. I don't like you and to tell the truth, I've begged Eric to grant your little wish for him to release you. We would all be a lot happier if you would just go...away. You don't need his permission to take an afternoon stroll either. The sun's up and waiting for you, princess, so go walk in it."
Eric closed the pink lid to Pam's coffin, causing the thin vampire to yelp as it came crashing down on her head.
"You two have said all you need to. I think we're done."
Britta laid back down upon the white softness and waited for him to close her in as well. She would not cry, but the bright wetness threatened to spill over. It was what she was known for. She was a freak who couldn't turn off her humanity and extinguish the feelings within her.
A hand swept down and wiped a red drop away before it reached her hair line. His expression was so tender than it tore at her heart...a heart that didn't beat.
"Walk with me," he commanded.
Britta sighed but did as he asked. His control over her was overwhelming to say the least. Over 1,000 years, and she had to do as he asked. She had no say in the matter. Over the centuries, she hadn't even been allowed to leave him for one night because he would call her and a heavy weight would bare down on her until she answered his summons and checked in.
She rose from the deep indention; the sun hidden from her but its presence all to well known due the oppressed feeling weighing her down.
"That's right, Eric," Pam screamed while pounding the top of her coffin. "Lock me in while you take your precious little Brit for a stroll. And I always thought that Makers couldn't play favorites."
Britta braced herself for his wrath but he simply walked away from the erratic women sealed inside her box.
Eric and herself advanced slowly up the steps and made their way to the barroom.
"Sit down."
"I thought we were going to take a walk?"
"I wasn't being literal. I just thought the two of you could use some space."
"Space?" She huffed. "How much space are you willing to put between us, Eric? Because I gotta tell you, I'm not sure Louisiana and the Moon will be far enough."
He shook his blond head and opened a bottle of true blood for her while he stuck a bag of donated human plasma in the microwave.
"That girl down stairs just now..." he trailed off while running long fingers through his newly short hair. He began once again. "I havn't seen that Brit in awhile."
She stayed silent while flinging the dark glass bottle from one hand to the other.
"It's a relief to know you're somewhat alive in that enclosed head of yours."
"I'm not alive and I keep to myself for a reason. It's just who I am and I wish everyone would leave me alone."
The convection oven beeped three times. Eric reached in and opened the bag by his teeth. He sucked the warm liquid through a straw and kept a steady eye on her.
"Did you know that I have personnel...associates...fellow vampires that question my decision relentlessly."
She stopped mid swig, "what decision?"
"You and Pam."
"Ha," she placed her chin in the palm of her hand and looked at him questioningly. "Can't say I blame them. I'm kind of curious myself."
"I could easily release the both of you...send you on your way and maybe see the two of you once every few hundred years."
Britta straightened her back. "You could."
"I know that's what you want. But I chose the two of you for a reason and as your Maker, I won't let you go."
"Pam doesn't want to go."
Eric came around the counter in a flash. "I know that you want released...but you don't want to leave. You just want the bond broken so my command will mean nothing to you."
Britta shrugged. She meant to deny it but then the thought of never seeing Eric again was unimaginable. "I guess so," she admitted.
"I was Godric's first progeny and he was 1,000 years old before he took that leap; the same age I am now. I decided on you the second Godric told me I could never go home...never see you again. Being a Maker is serious. It's not just making a vampire but creating a companion for all of eternity." Eric placed his forhead against her own. "I have always wanted you and that will never change. You were mine when you were human...you're mine now. I can see past your faults and insecurities and I pray that one day, be it now or 5,000 years from now, that you let down that wall that you have built so high and let me in."
Britta felt herself shaking. It was the most sincere he had ever been with her in such a long time. She shifted slightly but let him continue the close contact. Contact that she hadn't allowed herself to feel in centuries, and even then it hurt like the sun.
"Do you remember the first I saw you?" He whispered while running two gentle fingers down her soft dark hair. He'd always loved her hair, and despite the fact that she flinched whenever he reached out to touch it, Eric had never stopped his ministrations.
She nodded her head. "I still don't understand why it was me? Kabbe Gunnarsson was beautiful and she was standing right next to me that day. You never even had her name called."
"Who?" he looked at her in question.
"A real hottie who had her sights set on the King's son. That's who."
Eric chuckled and seemed to remember. "Raven hair...dimples...threw you on the ground when the King summoned you forward?"
"That's the one."
"You're right."
"About?"
"She was a hottie."
She punched him in the arm and quickly regretted the action but relaxed when his only retaliation was a laugh and a light tug to her hair.
Britta let herself smile a genuin grin. She was afraid her resentment towards Eric would never go away but it was the rare moments they shared that kept her from hating him completely.
1,115 years ago (898 AD) The Square
A hush fell over the crowd as King Ulrick, along with his Norsemans', entered through the heavy wooden gate built a century ago that was originally contrived to keep the North from invading.
And now her King, King Acke, was bidding them to willingly come into his kingdom freely.
"Gentlemen," a girl to her right voiced.
Britta raised a perfect dark eyebrow at the mousy girl next to her. "Pardon?" she asked.
"Gentlemen, these Vikings. Least they come to collect us instead of having us women travel 5 Kilometeres across the sea ourselves. If you ask me, their starting out on the right foot."
She said nothing. How could she when King Acke had them stand in three successions? Three lines that would be easy for the men to walk down and choose whom he liked the best. There were so many Warriors strolling in, acting as if this was their home and they had every right to take it from them.
Merit stood several yards away, patting his protruding stomach as he looked to the enemy with approval. He hadn't set eyes upon his daughter once since the spectacle began. Did he not know that she would forever reside across the sea and never be home again? Her mother had to be rolling in her grave.
Britta's folks had been an arranged marriage as well. Marriage was built for procreation and joining, in this instance, two powerful empires.
"Cat got your tongue?"
The girl next to her, the one who had spoken about the absurd notion of gentlemen, pressured Britta to answer.
"I'm not much for conversation."
"Asi be my name."
"Britta," she responded while looking away.
"My Pa says that I eat more than my sister so that's why I'm up here even if she be older than myself. How 'bout you?"
"Luck of the draw I suppose."
"You talk real pretty like, when you do talk at all. Are you part of the Jarls? I see you wearing that nice material and such. Not silk, but still nice."
With a heavy sigh, Britta turned to the girl beside her and noticed that she was perhaps a tad younger than herself. The girl was filthy, but she was happy. Something that Britta herself hadn't felt since her mother passed away.
"I'm part of the Karl's. I'm just wearing wool...nothing special."
"You ain't kidding? Why's it gold?"
"Dye."
Asi whistled. She reached out to touch the material and Britta noticed that the auburn haired girl was wearing a feed sack. It hung loosley off of her shoulders, thin shoulder's that indicated malnurishment. And she ate a lot? Britta would loath to see the rest of her clan. Asi's family couldn't be more than a pile of bones.
"Can you read, too?"
Britta's earlier annoyance with Asi was slowly turning to pity. She was tempted to say no so the girl wouldn't feel bad about herself. Instead, she nodded her head curtly with one harsh gesture.
"I wouldn't let your husband know that."
"Why not? Mother worked hard at teaching us all to read?"
"My Ma could read before she married and Pa knocked the words right out of her."
Britta rolled her eyes. "Your mother can still read. She's just hiding it so she's not beaten."
"I know that!" Asi exclaimed. "But she's faking it for a reason. I suggest you do the same thing."
"I'll think about it," Britta said to quiet the girl.
"Where did you get that?" Asi poked at her cheek. Britta threw her head back and swatted at the girl.
"I fell. And if you don't mind, I would like to stop this unnecessary prattling."
She raised up on her tip toes and noticed that the two Kings were standing high above the crowd, welcoming one another. It was the first time that Britta had ever seen the Norman King. He wore a gold crown, similar to Acke's. His hair was a brown color that was accompanied by a beard.
When the two royal figures had finish their civil acknowledgment, they turned and scanned the crowded square. Both looked pleased at what they saw. Neither men were extremely intimidating despite the consistant bloodshed that splattered their nation.
"Welcome, everyone!" King Acke began with the raise of his hands and a genuine smile upon his aging face. "Let it be known, on this day, our two empires shall join as one and never again shed blood upon the other. From now on, we will live in peace and fight beside one another...not against. We will travel in our Longships side by side as we battle Iceland, Scandinavia, Denmark, and Norway. Who knows, maybe one day we will live in peace with them as well."
The King paused for effect and everyone, mostly the men, laughed on cue at the obsurd notion.
"I shall not speak for long. As my fellow knights are aware, I can be long winded. Let me not delay what must be done." He turned to his Dane and was handed a scroll. With the flick of his wrist, he scanned over the content and scrutinized at what was written. Britta recognized what he held. The King's men had brought it with them to each household and demanded a name be placed upon it by the man of the house. Her name had been written quick and swiftly.
"What I hold in my hand is the name of every young lady who is standing before you, my nobel warriors. In a moment, each man will enter within the square and choose his bride. There are one-hundred and thirty-four women standing before you. My initial impression was that only one-hundred men would be seeking a wife. It seems as if that number is nearly double."
The king turned to the side and looked at girls who were not written upon the parchment. "It seems as if I have spoken too soon. My promise of one female per household will have to be disavowed as I ask all unmarried women between the ages of twelve and seventeen to enter the square at this time."
An uproar flooded the crowd. Girls were screaming and refusing to do so. Some were crying, others entered willingingly, while her own father struck her sister Iris and literally threw her in 'the lions den.'
Now there would be more than enough girls. Sixty females would walk away from this and stay in their homes, rejected but knowing that the future they held would keep on the same path. Britta wasn't sure which fate she longed for. No man could be worse than her father. A change, even if moving to the North, wouldn't be completely unwelcomed.
Several minutes ticked by. The girls were lined up once more, except this time in a much larger mass. The sound of whispering, sniffling, and a few wailes echoes into Britta's ears.
She was shoved hard to the left; noticing that Asi was not the one to push her. The dirty stained child was no longer standing beside her. Another girl, far worse, had taken her place. Kabbe Gunnarsson. Unlike the rest that were crying, Kabbe looked pleased with the new predicament. She was breathtakingly beautiful with fine silk clothing that her family couldn't afford but adorned their eldest child in in hopes of her finding a good match in marriage. Kabbe was sixteen summers and her sister was only eleven. The Gunnarsson's lied about their youngest child's age so they could keep the beautiful Kabbe at home where any man from the South would jump at her feet in hopes of taking her as his bride.
But Britta smiles to herself. Kabbe had had many suitors but one conversation, and they ran. Beauty was only skin deep when the personality to match was horrendous. She risked a look at the raven haired goddess and followed her beaming gaze.
And that was when she saw him.
Britta could feel the air rush from her lungs as he stepped forward and whispered something in the King's ear. King Ulrick looked pleased about what was said and immediately pointed a finger in their direction while talking to King Acke.
The man with long blond hair was simply sublime. No...not sublime. Magnificent in all of his glory. He was tall and broad shouldered. Even standing twenty feet above her, she could tell what a powerful man he was. He was a Viking. The kind of Viking that every maiden hoped to aspire in grabbing the attention of. He seemed to be scanning them one...by one...by one.
Could it be? Was he willing to taint the Norman name by selecting a women of the South? He was important, that was obvious. He was standing by the two Kings, conversing with them like they were simpletons.
His face lifted in a half smile. He apparently enjoyed what he saw and Britta enjoyed the view before her just as much. He lifted his hand and snaked fingers threw his long tresses, causing every female in the square to sigh audibly. No more crying surrounded her. Everyone was mesmerized...amazed at the beauty that he was.
"It appears that we have another slight change that has come to my attention," King Acke boomed. "This time, I'm sure no one will be disappointed. Prince, Eric," the King placed a hand upon the young man's shoulder and ushered him forward, "has decided to find the future Queen of Norman among our young ladies of the South."
Another roar lifted the crowd, but this time in excitement. It was a grand thought. Not only to be a future Queen; rags to riches; but to be the wife of such a speciman. And despite Britta being a born dreamer, she knew that her chances were 1 in 260. The odds were not in her favor.
"Prince Eric has decided that he shall set aside a select few before the choosing begins. Once he has made his decision, the young ladies whom he chose to not marry will be given to the remaining men who did not select a bride. So if we shall begin, please join us in the box when your name is called."
The King was excellent with names. He knew every person; man, women, and child, who resided in his Kingdom.
Eric scanned the crowd and fell on a few faces before pointing a finger and describing the young lady to the King. Acke nodded in agreement.
"Josefin Lindstrom!" he boomed. Every one turned to the pretty girl with a sweet face and child like wonder. And then Britta winced. The girl had to be older than herself, but she took off at a run and nearly ended any chance she had with the Prince. But Eric's face held a smile for the girl as she landed on the last step and bowed before him. Her breathing was labored but the blond man took a moment to welcome the girl before turning back the crowd and scanned once more. He whispered to Acke again.
"Emelie Eklund." This girl was volumptuous and nearing the cut off for selection. She held her head high and approached with regal elegance. Eric wasn't smiling like he had with Josefin, but he looked appreciatively at the older girl. She fit the royal standard.
"Malva Stor." Another girl close to being considered too old.
"Joline Lund." Once again. Had Josefin scared him off with her young enthusiasm? Were the fresh faced girls no longer in the running for his attention?
Eric seemed to be picking out of practicality now. Who looked like a queen? All the girls looked like they could step into royalty besides Josefin.
"Gabriel Gade." Britta knew it was officially a lost cause. It wasn't as if she expected to gain his attention. But a little hope would be nice. Their was no hope now.
"Anna Fri."
Eric adverted his gaze after the last selection, but every so often glanced up. It was apparent he had finished. Everyone beside her was devestated, though they tried hard to appear unaffected. But Britta kept her gaze upon the young man. He was too beautiful not to look at, even if he had not noticed her himself.
His eyes, she imagined they were blue like the sea, flashed up once more. His brow furrowed, and he would quickly look away. His selection was full of beautiful women. Yet he looked unsatisfied.
Eric gazed at the six...one...by one...by one before lifting his eyes once more. The teasing was becoming too much. What was he waiting for? The King opened his mouth to announce the selection to begin for the other Viking's present but the Prince stopped him.
Britta imagined it. She had too. As he spoke to Acke, his gaze was riveted on her own. It couldn't be. Could it? The King shrugged.
"Britta Vinter!" A audible gasp came from her left. She risked a look at Merit and noticed his face burning red in anger.
Maybe dreams do come true.
She stepped forward and then was tugged backwards, the ground finding her backside in a brutal twist of fate. Laughing echoed to her ears. She was surrounded by girls who decided to not waste this moment and kicked dirt onto the only nice peice of clothing she owned. A slippered foot found her side and she winced in pain. Her long dark tresses were nearly ripped from her head.
And then the girl on top of her that had a hand pulled back, ready to strike, was lifted from her and thrown to the side. She was tossed in the mud, her face planted deep into the filthy puddle. She was being saved.
The sun surrounded him like a halo as he gazed down to her, his features in shadow. He bent low and lifted her from the ground, a strong arm under her knees, the other around her lower back.
Was this a dream she would soon wake from? She inhalded his masculine aroma as the girls who had assulted her moments ago, were left behind and she was cradled in the strong arms of a Prince. He seemed to carry her as if she were weightless.
She had yet to look at his face, too embarrassed by what had just occurred. He said nothing to her but his stong jaw muscles worked in anger.
He took the steps two at a time, causing her to hold on more tightly than she had anticipated. Eric sat her down on the chair that was meant for himself and gave his father one look. A look that transpired with heavy meaning.
The other girls were dismissed.
She was the only one left? She was the only one left.
The tall man sank into the throan beside her ungracefully and stretched his long legs out before him. His knee bounced up and down before coming to a halt and he turned to fully look at her.
"Are you hurt?"
Britta willed herself to answer. Now was not the time to be her normal backwards self.
"I'm fine, thank you. I appreciate you coming to my aid."
He huffed and once again fell back into the chair. "It was my fault that that happened in the first place."
"I don't mind. It's not the first time I've been beaten on," she said softly while running fingers throughout the knotted and dirt covered hair.
He got quiet. She risked a look at him and found herself lost in his blue eyes, she knew that they would be blue, yet they gazed at her in saddness. It wasn't the attention she hoped to be getting from him. A long finger traced the bruise on her cheek and Britta could feel a heat spread through her body that she had never experienced before.
"This is a few days old." It was fact, not a question.
Britta shrugged her shoulders. What else was she suppose to do? She would not play the pity card just to aquire simpathy from the one man that all all women in the entire world coveted.
"You know what," he said with a heart stopping grin.
"What?" Britta managed a smile in return.
"I like you. Pretty and independent."
She blushed at his compliment but said nothing else. The day she had dreaded for so long had just become a wonderful reality, a golden knight noticing the one girl who would forever be invisible.
