Greeting the Dawn
Chapter 3
A/N Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of your feedback! I really appreciate it. I've probably said that about a thousand times, but it's SO true. Ya'll are definitely a good reason to keep writing.
And I have a beta, yay! KJmom is super awesome, and has an amazing eye for detail. She has the fourth chapter now, and I'll probably post it sometime on Friday.
Heads up, this chapter has a bit of slash. I've called it slash on training wheels. There is no sex, but the themes are there. Remember guys, this is ultimately a Sookie/Godric fiction, so if you don't like it, be strong. More chapters are coming.
Thanks so much for reading! As always, I value your comments and critiques!
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Godric's Point of View
Eric, my Child, it appears we have more time left together after all.
He no longer needs me. Has not needed me for centuries. Is it possible that I have misinterpreted? That there is more than one kind of need beyond survival?
I run at vampire speed down the several flights of stairs to his floor, and use my room key to let myself into his room. It is fortunate that Eric gave me a copy of his key back at my house after the explosion.
Our bond has faded over time, and I have let it. I no longer feel it when Eric rises or hungers. The bond remains a constant low hum in the back of my mind. I had shut it down entirely while I was at the Fellowship Church compound. I did not want Eric to be able to track me. The last thing I wanted was to be found, and yet my resourceful Child still managed it. I should have known better than to think something could keep Eric from what he wanted.
I silently let myself into Eric's room, shut the door swiftly behind me, and enter the bedroom. Eric, my bright blond warrior is hunched over, sitting on the side of his bed. The twinge I felt from our bond while standing in the stairwell with Miss Stackhouse does not do justice to Eric's silent despair. He does not realize that I have not left him.
Eric has stripped down to his black, scooped tank top and black pants. His pale bare feet stand out starkly against the blackness of the bed skirt. Tracks of bloody tears have etched patterns down his cheeks, and a few lonesome drops have landed on his chest. His head is hanging, his chin almost touching the smoothness of his chest.
I stand before him. It takes at least a minute before he moves in any way. He finally recognizes my feet, and his head pops up so quickly that if he were human, I would worry about brain damage. "Godric." He voices my name reverently, quietly, almost as though he might scare me away.
"Eiríkr," I reply, placing my hand on the side of his head, threading my fingers between the glossy strands of his hair. "Jag är här, mitt Barn." I am here, my Child.
Unashamed of his tears, Eric looks at me unblinkingly, almost as if he's memorizing my face, although we have spent so many years together he could sculpt my entire body with his eyes closed. He inhales, scenting me, his nostrils flaring. His fangs drop with a snick, and he snarls.
Eric's anger permeates the room, replacing the air with his rage, and even though it is not necessary, I breathe it in, understanding it. Moving at vampire speed, he reaches forward and seized my upper arms, his fingers digging into my skin so hard I can feel the ridges and whorls of his fingerprints. His fingernails break my skin, and the heady perfume of my blood escapes my body, mixing with the scent of his anger. Eric's nostrils flare again, smelling my blood.
I know that he needs it – almost as much as he did the night he first rose a vampire, desperate for the taste of blood. With a jolt, I realize I need this just as much as he. I need to renew our bond; I need to feel Eric more intimately. I have existed for 2,000 years, half of it alone, and I do not want to continue as I am now.
Our time apart has dulled the bond. I thought that this would make him happy. Eric has always been a very independent creature, and I thought he wanted this independence from his Maker.
Eric does not need me to look after him, second-guessing or approving his decisions. Eric is a sheriff in his own right; he earned it, and I am proud of him. I would never do anything to jeopardize his authority or make him look weak in front of his Queen.
However, looking at the situation now, Eric and I have both been weakened by our separation. Eric is the light to my darkness. His vivacity and passion for life, or whatever it is that we have, balances out the depression that has worn on me for so long. We were brought together to serve some purpose, although that purpose remains to be seen.
All these musing flash though my brain faster than a human could have processed a single thought, and I feel at peace with my decision. Locking eyes with Eric, I say, "Eiríkr, dricka." Eric, drink. I tilt my head to the side, baring my throat to his sharp fangs and eager gaze.
Eric flashes forward and buries his fangs in my neck, and my own burst forth from my gums. I had forgotten the ecstasy of his bite. I have not shared my blood with anyone since healing Eric after a vicious battle, almost six hundred years ago. I throw my head back with the excruciating pleasure pain of his bite, and fist my fingers in Eric's short hair, tugging with every swallow.
Finally, I can feel Eric again. Our bond springs back to life and grows with each mouthful. Eric's anger that had filled the room morphs into fear and desperation. I can feel Eric's terror and anxiety at the thought of losing me. His feelings swell within me. Needing to strengthen our connection, I rip open the back of his tank top and claw at the smooth skin of Eric's back.
I can feel my blood pouring down Eric's throat, passing through the lining of his stomach and flowing through his arteries and veins. I cannot describe my feeling of elation at once more knowing that it is my blood and magic that sustains my beautiful child.
For some unknown reason, Eric withdraws his fangs and laps at the wounds of my neck until they close. I am not finished yet!
Growling, I shove Eric back on the bed, forcing him to lie back on the bed, with his knees bent over the edge. I straddle his waist and grab both his wrists with my smaller hand, pinning them to the bed above his head. I lean down into him and lick the bloody tears from his face. With my free hand I strip the tattered remains of Eric's tank from his torso.
He nuzzles at my face, trying to bring our mouths together and I growl warningly, forcing him to recognize my dominance. His arms cease straining against my grip and he relinquishes control over to me. I can do anything I want to him and he will let me; he wants it.
Finished with cleaning the blood from his flawless skin, I pause and probe the bond. It is still weak, still straining. It craves fresh blood, Eric's blood. And although the desperation has quieted, the need is still there, growing stronger with every second I resist.
I lean in and lick the curve of Eric's neck, tasting him. I inhale, drawing in the unique scent of cold sea breeze, juniper, and Eric. I bury my fangs in his neck, eager to savor the flavor of his blood. As his rich blood courses down the back of my throat, I shudder against his body.
We are one. We are more than Maker and Child, Father and Son, or blood brothers. We are more than sexual beings, although that is a part of it. We have reached some sort of plateau, and are as we were meant to be.
I lose myself for a minute. Immersing myself in the joy of our deepened bond. I am finally free of the darkness in my chest, of the evil darkness that has crawled under my skin for so long. Between these two blonds, Sookie Stackhouse and my Eiríkr, they have given me the greatest gift of my existence: my freedom.
The bonds of slavery in my human life and even the cruel tyranny of my Maker were nothing to the crushing despair that has befouled my existence for almost as long as I have been a vampire. I hardly know what to do with myself now that this blackness is no longer weighing me down, controlling my every thought and move.
I feel a small jolt, like the blue spark of electricity you see when unplugging a live piece of machinery, and another bond forms. I am not sure what exactly happened, but it drags me out of my internal stupor and back to my body. Eric's head is lolling to the side, and I realize that I have taken a significant amount of blood. However, I am not worried. Eric is old, and his age in combination with my ancient blood will be more than enough to sustain him until sunset.
I draw my fangs out of him and swirl my tongue over the puncture marks, sealing them. I slowly sit up, letting go of Eric's wrists. Sitting astride Eric, I look down at his face. His eyes are glazed over in pleasure, his face slack, fangs protruding from his slightly open mouth.
Smirking slightly in satisfaction, I climb off him and lie down on my side, propping my head up on my arm so that I can keep Eric's face in my line of sight. Blinking twice, Eric regains control of himself and looks over at me. After sharing that experience with him, what can I say?
Eric takes care of that for me, softly saying, "Bra. Nu kan du inte lämna mig." Good. Now you can't leave me.
Surprised, I still, probing the bond. He speaks the truth. Eric and I are now so tightly bound that if I were to perish, Eric would die along with me. I cannot imagine a world without Eric. I could never be responsible for his death.
I smile softly in acknowledgement. I do not want to talk about what led me to the roof this morning. I do not want that horrible black nightmare to taint our renewed bond.
Eric reaches out and lightly touches my face, before trailing his hand down my neck and tracing the tattoo along my collarbone. It has been so long since he has touched me. I chose long ago to forego this kind of contact. Better not to be touched than to be polluted by grasping hands desiring only sexual favors or personal gain. "Vila, Eiríkr. Du behöver inte förlora mer blod denna dag." I say gently.
Eric nods and moves to his side, facing me. I roll to face away from him. He wraps his arms around me, and I allow him to pull me against his body, much like a nowadays child would clutch a teddy bear. His large frame spoons my body, and he buries his face in my neck.
I place my arms over his as I feel his body relax as he dies for the day. I lie here motionless and think about what happened on the roof. I have never experienced anything like the rapture of Sookie Stackhouse.
It felt like liquid golden light spilled down my throat and landed in the pit of the blackness. The black hole that had dominated my life for so long could not swallow up that shining goodness. Like syrup, her purity poured into my darkness, filling it until it overflowed and spread throughout my entire body. For the first time since my death, I felt warmth from the inside. I did not even notice the feeling of the sun on my skin.
Lying here in bed with Eric, I reach inside myself, tentatively probing for the return of the darkness. It has reemerged, but is barely there, barely noticeable. I would not have been aware of its presence had I not searched.
I imagine that I can still feel that golden light tingling under my skin. I feel an answering hum in my mind, and regardless of whether it is real, I am comforted. Content, I close my eyes and drift off.
