A/N: Thank you for the faves, and follow guys! Means a lot to me. Special shout out to CatOl'DirtyCurtis for being the first reviewer for this story and ellaella for being the second. You guys are great thank you. I know it has been a while and this is a short chapter, but longer one next time! Promise.
He had taken enough blood from them to last a while.
It was because of his consumption that even through his bemused state that he was able to escape. Run, was the right term, he'd later sneer to himself.
With his blood red fangs and his curses he would have seemed no less than a barbaric berzeker to them all. But Godric, ever theatrical continued to surprise his enemies.
Instead of running headlong into their open (and silvered) arms, he turned instead back into the throng of his former associates and began swiftly cutting down anyone in his path.
The camp was in an uproar made worse by the fact that Godric, somehow, ran rings around them, quite literally, to daze them or taunt them, before making sense of his own direction.
Ducking between foliage and rubble like a commoner, the vampire was forced to accept his weakness. Even a man of great means was a slave to the pitfalls of fate or such. If he had foreseen this, maybe he would've remembered to pack a faery or two for the heat and the sunburn.
Perhaps, it was for the best though.
After all, he needed to know he wasn't totally invincible. Tactics needed to be re-evaluated, as new battle lines had been drawn.
Godric stopped for a millisecond as he re-evaluated his options. It was either fleeing to fight another day or totally annihilate the wolf pack that was encircling him now. He did both.
Grabbing the youthful unturned one, he snapped his neck cleanly to reveal the red elixir.
It was all over in a few moments. Having drank deeply from the shuddering boy and discarded his body into the clearing of the woods. Sure enough, the action was met by howling of his family within seconds. The scent of death bloomed into air, but it didn't matter to Godric. For he left it, at his heels .
Godric paused only, when he felt the unrelenting rays of sun lighten on his neck and back. He was no fool, he knew he was burning. His skin, his authority, everything that he possibly was, appeared to be flying up towards the heavens. But he said nothing. His lips, his maker instinct stayed silent.
Why should he call Eric? So he could see him weak and dying? No. Weakness was the state that no maker should show his protégé. Godric paused, glancing up at the sky through red raw eyelids and moss green leaves.
The gods knew he trusted Eric, more than he had ever trusted any other. After all, had the Viking not proved his worth? Of course he had.
But this is a matter of honour he mused, starting to speed not too gracefully out of the moist and blazing forest. He stopped to recess only for a few moments next to what seemed like a large white boulder.
Desperate as he was, his trapped mind began to piece together his location.
He was by some grace now on the white cliffs. Godric smiled thinly, and began to take a brief walk over to the unusually quiet cliff. He knew what he had to do.
'Survive like a Roman. Always a Roman, ' was his last thought before he jumped off the cliff into the depths below.