He was here. I could feel him. My blood hummed throughout my body, vibrating me like a tuning fork. Our blood would always sing to one another, echoing in my veins. It was a symphony only I would understand, as I was part composer to the melody. Fighting the urge to call upon the bond, I focused my energy on the men surrounding me. It was inevitable that our paths might cross again. When one was immortal the world became smaller in scope. How ironic that the crossing of our paths would occur in the same country as our initial meeting. It was no coincidence I was here. I found myself inextricably drawn back here anytime the weight of immortality lay on my shoulders. After 1800 years of a God like existence, weariness was bound to intrude. Somehow being close to the start of the happiest time in almost two thousand years eased the questions, and made the weariness bearable with his face in my mind. He was my triumph, my legacy, my one good act in a thousand lifetimes of savagery.

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The sounds of battle always held an allure for me. The warrior was ingrained in me and immortality laid out an infinite highway of battles. I could have traveled a path of war for the last 1000 years and had indeed chosen that from time to time. While my body craved the intelligence of combat, a millennium of watching humanity tear each other apart, had still taken a toll on me. Vampires I had met over the length of my new life, had held very little feeling towards the humans they had once been, but I had found myself observing more and more, the species I once was. This night found me in a cave on the western half of England, just outside a small town of Stamford Bridge. Awoken from a strange feeling of meeting my maker, I heard the war cries of the blond giants that had camped on the other side of the ridge. While the need to feed was barely a tickle, watching a battle from a perch high in the trees held infinitely more appeal. Sliding smoothly into the moonlit night, I made my way through the tree line, gliding from limb to limb, yet never disturbing a leaf. Finally reaching a vantage point, I witnessed an unarmed Viking army being pushed back towards the narrow bridge by an organized and powerful Saxon force. Blond giants littered the field, as the only defense they had were shields, helmets and the sporadic spears. Realizing the slaughter happening would not produce any new intelligence in the art of battle, I turned to go and that is when he caught my eye. Standing at least two inches taller than any of the other men, he stood in the middle of the narrow bridge, armed with only an axe and a shield. I stood transfixed as I watched him dance with his axe, felling Saxon man after man. His movements smoothed and choreographed as if his weapon were the partner of his dreams. Dirty and bleeding, he was the most beautiful blond giant I had ever witnessed and in that moment, I knew I would break my vow of never becoming a maker. Transfixed on this ballet of death, I fought the urge to sweep the man away and claim him as my own. Knowing his efforts would prove futile against the onslaught of a much better prepared and armed Saxon army, I waited for opportunity to come to me. Soon enough I watched a Saxon gliding down the river in a barrel, catching himself under the bridge that held my giant. He was growing weary, his dance slowing and than in an instant, a sword thrust up through the laths and into the Viking's side. Crumpling, I watched two Viking men, grab the arms of their last hope and drag him in my direction towards the woods. Cries of slaughter echoing in the background, urged the men deeper and deeper. I followed stealthy through the tree tops, tracing the scent and patiently waiting for the time I knew would come. He was weak, my gentle giant, and he was begging his comrades.

"Go on" he said "I'm finished. Go on"

"No" one said

"Eric" the other replied "You saved our lives hundreds of times. We won't leave you to be eaten by wolves. We'll wait for the end by your side."

"We'll give you a hero's farewell. The Gods wait for you in Valhalla. There will be a party with meat and gold and beer."

"And women? Will there be women?"

"Wherever I am there will always be women" my giant Eric replied and sent a ripple of laughter through the three friends.

Lifting him again they carried on further into the forest. I followed until dawn, digging a grave south of the camp they had set up. Praying to a God who no longer controlled my fate, I asked him to keep the spark in my Eric until night.

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Collecting my winnings, I wondered what he would say when we met. Would he still be angry over my forcing our parting or would he have moved on and found another, content with his estrangement from me? That last thought sent a wave of jealousy coursing through my body, and I knew at that instant I needed to avoid any contact with him tonight. Bidding goodnight to the gentleman at the table, I grabbed my cane and hat and stepped out into the cool London night. As civilization had become more and more civilized, it became easier for us to move among them; Easier to set up homes and businesses for a much longer time, as long as our food source was readily available and easily dismissed. London, England in the 1800's provided such a backdrop. Nightlife provided income and the slums and docks provided nourishment. After 1800 years, I needed to feed very little, so moving among humans became an enjoyable and bearable pastime. Of course glamouring them out of their winnings at hazard was equally enjoyable and London provided a cultural scene like many of the larger European cities. I hated the fashion of course, as I was most comfortable in cotton pants. My short frame did not suit the long tails and intricate folds of the cravats, but fitting in was imperative, and that required sacrifice. I instantly pictured Eric in black tails, waistcoat and ivory cravat. He would look stunning, a blond Adonis waiting to steal the hearts of the willing and unwilling. I was sure he had his fair share of matrons beating a path to his side. While we certainly could not partake of the Tonnish trend of balls, many enjoyments could be found at the gaming hells and men's clubs like Whitehall's. Leaning against the steps, I let the symphony sing quietly through my blood, relishing in his nearness yet refusing to yield to the call.

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The night was still, the flames licking the branches as if offering their caress than stealing it back. He lay in a bed of sticks, offered up to his Gods in Valhalla. His body had betrayed him and all that was left was a mind refusing to give into a life without life. The time was near and for the first time in nearly 1000 years, I was buoyant about my existence and what I could offer. A lifetime with this man would be one to embrace, a time without weariness, a time to explore a bond no other could offer him. A choice would be given, as he would have to come freely, but deep down I knew the child I had chosen would embrace his freedom, just as I had over a millennium ago in a Roman street, under the cover of darkness.

"All will be well" his comrade reassured him "Don't be afraid"

"I'm not afraid. I'm pissed off" chided my gentle giant.

Knowing now was my best chance, I lapped the campfire creating a disturbance away from my Eric.

"Who's there? Show yourself" his other comrade demanded.

I darted from my branch, fangs extended, and ripped out his throat. Less than a second had passed and I had leapt to the throat of the other Viking, sending blood spurting in an arc across the fire. Landing gracefully on the edge of my giants' altar, I gazed at him as if seeing sunlight for the first time in a millennium.

"Are you death?" he asked

"I am"

"But you're just a little boy"

Smiling at his attempt to reconcile what he knew to be true with what he saw I replied "I'm not"

"My men" he questioned

"Dead"

"You swine"

Feisty even at his most vulnerable I confessed "I watched you on the battlefield last night. I never saw anyone fight like you."

"I would fight you now if I could"

"I know. It's beautiful"

He was calm even as he faced his end and he was determined to go on his own terms.

"What are you waiting for" he asked "Kill me"

Trying not to sound as desperate as I felt, I offered the choice

"Could you be a companion of death? Could you walk with me through the world…through the dark? I'll teach you all I know…I'll be your father, your brother, your child"

Again trying to shift control to his weakening mind, he demanded

"What's in it for me?"

Keeping it simple and on his terms I offered

"What you love most…Life"

"Life" the Viking pleaded to me and he became my Eric…

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The doors opened and I flashed into the shadows at the side of the steps. I watched Eric walk down as if he was some Viking God leading his men to victory. He would always command respect and admiration everywhere he went and once again I fought the urge to call upon our bond. I had asked for this. Eric would have been with me to this day if I had let him, but weariness with my existence and the world surrounding us was infecting him and I could not let the one bright part of my immortality become tainted with my burdens. He begged and pleaded that cold night, snow swirling around his face, as the tears stained his broad cheeks. I was hurting him with my rejection, but destroying him with my disease would have been a far worse torture. I walked away that night 500 years ago convinced I was at a turning point and he would fare far better without me. Looking at my gentle giant now, I grew concerned. He was not a bright spot in the dark London night; he looked hungry and weary, resigned and lonely. He turned left heading towards Grosvenor's Square and I followed at a safe distance curious as to what purpose would be served in the Tonnish neighborhood. He turned into an alleyway leading behind the gardens of some of London's oldest and richest families. Sticking to the shadows I stayed at the entrance of the alleyway watching my child walk with a purpose in his step. Just than a young woman, not more than 18 or 19 came scurrying from the opposite end of the alley. Blond and fair, her hair was piled up on her head in intricate curls. She held handfuls of the silk fabric of her skirts in her hands, trying to run. Continually glancing behind her appearing concerned someone was following her, she never saw Eric till she ran right into him. Rather than burst into hysterics, as women of this period were prone to do, she straightened her spine, looked up into my Eric's face and demanded to know what he was doing out there. In the split second of the strike, I felt my blood hit a cacophony of notes. Pleasure and warmth, desire and need all pushed their way through the bond the three of us now felt. Eric turned at that second staring into the shadows where I stood. He could see me I know, but he dismissed the notion and returned to his blond goddess draped over his arm. I left the alley that night and England the night after, never to return.