A/N: Chapter seven up nice and quick for you all. This one is entirely from Eric's point of view, I was gonna split it but I dunno it just felt better from his point of view. Oh and here is a link to a picture of what Taryn's tattoo's look like. .And As always Enjoy!


He was up and out of his chair, and was at her door before the chair hit the floor. He opened the door harshly, the thing nearly coming off the hinges, his fangs fully extended, ready to attack, very sure that something horrible was befalling his precious dancer. Although how that was possible in a room with no windows and no entry other than the one he's been watching like a hawk he had no idea.

Even though the door had opened with a crash Taryn was still there lying face down in the bed, her body contorting, fingers gripping the sheet so tightly that her knuckles were bone white, She still screamed, horrible soul wrenching screams, and her brows were scrunched in frustration. Eric moved into the room, which was so cold one would think he'd put her in a freezer rather than an unused pantry. He felt Pam's presence behind him and he simply waved her away as he moved to kneel next to her bed. For the first time in a long time he wasn't sure what he should do.

Obviously Taryn was trapped in some horrible nightmare, but would waking her from it cause damage or be beneficial. Finally he placed a hand to Taryn's shoulder, her skin was like ice which was saying something since he didn't retain any kind of body heat. He nudged her lightly but she didn't wake, only when he called her name did she calm, and it was only a little. He continued to call her name and nudge her before she woke with a start, crawling away from him before her eyes fell upon him and registered who he was. She released a relived breath, and began panting, wiping her eyes as tears made treks down her cheeks, a sob every now and then passing her lips. She trembled like a leaf in a hurricane and he was still too shocked to react.

"Sorry." She said between pants. "I'm so sorry." He could tell she was trying to regain her composure but was having a hard time getting a grip on herself. She was paste white and her lips a little blue as she sat on the bed, back pressed against the wall, her head hanging between her knees.

"Pam." He called, knowing she hadn't moved even though he'd waved her away. "Can you please go get some food for Taryn."

"No… no food, I couldn't keep it down after that." Taryn said softly, her voice still as shaky as the rest of her.

"What will help?" He questioned.

"Soda… or anything I can drink with a lot of sugar and caffeine." She said and he felt Pam leave, a little surprised she didn't argue with him, but then she knew that he had a special interest in Taryn and if an order involved the wellbeing and safety of something important to him, it was important to her as well.

"What was that?" he questioned. "I've heard of nightmares being bad but that… that was no nightmare."

"No, it wasn't. It was a night terror. I'm sorry, I should have warned you but it's been well over a year since I've had an episode." She said and Eric stood up from the edge of the bed, walking to the door where Pam then appeared and he took the can of soda from her.

"I have coffee brewing, I thought maybe the heat would help her." Pam said.

"Thank you Pam." He said and she left knowing without being told her presence wasn't needed nor wanted anymore. He opened the soda and handed it to her, Taryn took it from him and sipped softly.

"Can I do anything that would help?" He asked and she pegged him with her searing sea green eyes that were lined with crystalline tears trapped in her long thick eyelashes, and for a second he thought she was the one that possessed the ability to glamour, cause nothing could have forced him to move in that moment.

"Would you hate it if I asked for you to stay with me, till the symptoms pass, at least." She questioned.

"I can do that." He said as he moved back to her bed and sat on it pressing his back to the wall next to her so that his long legs stretched across the bed, he kept enough space between them so that she wouldn't feel crowded. He watched in silence as she sipped the soda, her eyes staring off in the distance, the color returning to her face but her lips were still an awful blue color. He took the comforter that had ended up on the floor from her thrashing and slid it around her shoulders, pulling it around her body and using it to warm her up. She looked at him briefly giving a weak smile of appreciation before she returned to stare off in space.

"Do you know what triggered it?" He asked, for once being the one to feel the uncomfortable silence. He watched as she shook her head no, her eyes not returning to his, although every now and then a tear would pass down her cheek. She'd wipe at it with the back of her hand and take a sip of the soda, before she finally put the thing down on the dresser next to the bed when it was empty. He continued to watch her wondering when she'd snap to, he was really starting to hate that look in her eyes. He'd loved hearing her heart race in fear when he'd been the one to cause it but now that there was something else making her scared it made him feel… protective, and at a loss that he couldn't seem to do anything to help. "I really don't like that look in your eyes."

"I'm sorry, I haven't had an episode in so long I'm having a lot of trouble shaking it. I'm sorry for asking you to stay, you don't have to, if you don't want, I'm sure it will pass, it's just gonna take sometime." She said softly her body still shaking.

"Do you want me to stay, cause I want to stay. I don't think I'll be ok until I know you are, cause that… that shocked even me." He said putting his hand lightly on her shoulder, and looking at her intensely, wanting to get across that he did in fact want to stay. She nodded her head, her lip trembling as more tears spilled down her cheeks. She then crawled closer to him, and laid down, resting her head on his thigh, her face pointed out towards the room. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders like a cocoon.

He knew what she was seeking but he hesitated at the gesture. She needed comfort, physical comfort, which really wasn't his forte. He wasn't the guy that wiped tears and held hands. He wasn't the type to give comfort at all. If anything the only thing he did to make women feel better was have sex with them, but then again when he was doing that he was out for himself in the end. He loved giving pleasure to women but only because it pleased him to do it. He was terribly at a loss here, but he wanted to help her. He needed that life to come back to her, that fire inside her to return and right now it seemed so terribly close to being snuffed out. He'd make her angry at him if he thought it would do any good, but she was so disconnected right now he knew she wouldn't react.

She started to shift away from his lap, probably realizing his discomfort but he put his hand to her shoulder stopping her movement. She gave him a look and he simply nudged her back to her former position, she did, relaxing against him. He ran his hand awkwardly up and down where her arm was beneath the blanket, he could see the tension in her leavening in microscopic increments, but her eyes were still far off and haunted as she stared at the wall.

He moved his other hand to simply rest on the top of her head and as soon as his fingers touched her crimson locks the awkward movements weren't so awkward. He was a sucker for women in general but women with long hair were always at the top of his list. He loved the sensation of their hair brushing his chest as they rode atop of him, the feel of it tickling his thighs as they pleasured him. He loved having more than enough to run his hands through, to get his fingers tangled in the strands, or have a plentiful amount to knot in his fists. And red heads, true red heads had been a particularly favorite dish he loved to sample.

Before he realized it, he was running his hands through her hair, splaying it out across his lap, fingers kneading her scalp, simply because he enjoyed the feel of it. The fact that it was working for her was mostly secondary. He watched her eyes close and observed as the tension in her body nearly melted out of her. When her chin dipped downward he realized he'd actually lulled her into a sleep, but no sooner than her head started slipping off of his thigh did she shoot awake, eyes wide and scared. He paused hands hanging in the air as she looked up at him.

"Sorry." She mumbled.

"I take it you don't want to fall asleep." He said.

"No, not so soon after." She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, he was glad to hear thought that her voice wasn't as shaky as it had been before.

"Shall I stop then?" He questioned.

"If you want to you can, I don't want to keep you if you don't want to be here."

"And if I do?"

"Then no, please don't stop." She said and he had to force his mind to remain on it's original path. Running his hand through her hair had already started stoking at the small fire that was burning within him, the one that wanted him to sample his little dancer, both flesh and blood, but those words were an even bigger tease. He'd heard those words many a time in his life, although they'd been said with a much more passionate infliction, just hearing those words fall from her lips inspired many a delicious fantasy. "Although that feels so good it might put me to sleep again… can… can we maybe talk so I won't fall asleep." She questioned and he had to lock his thoughts away, and quell the desire beginning to build within him. Eric was not above using his wiles to get women to his bed, including glamouring them, he however would never take a woman fully against her will, and right now in her fear filled state she was no where near accepting anything he wanted to give her in that fashion.

"Why do you tell me about your self then?" He questioned his mind quickly switching gears wondering if her current vulnerable state would she let anything slip. She turned her head to look up at him and the message in her eyes spoke clearly for her, 'I'm scared not stupid.' It was still only a shadow of the fire he knew she contained, but he was making strides. He simply shrugged at her.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" He questioned.

"How about you tell me about yourself." She said and he gave her a look that matched her own. She turned over to lie face up and he resumed his playing with her hair. "Ok I'll answer you're questions if you answer mine." She said pulling her hands out of the cocoon of her blanket, and resting them over it, her fingers picking at her nails.

"Fine, but I get to go first, and anything too personal we are allowed to refuse to answer."

"Yeah but then they owe the other person two less personal answers."

"Fair enough." He said mulling over the questions in his head, he decided to take it slow. "How old are you?"

"25." She said and he actually marveled at her answer. He wasn't an expert of judging ages but he'd assume she was maybe 21, if that at all. Her paperwork had said she was 25 and so had her identification but once he'd figured out she couldn't be glamoured, he figured all her paperwork was forgeries. Apparently she'd answered that question correctly and it made him wonder what else had she told him that was true.

"How old are you?" She questioned and he paused, it was something he didn't tell many humans, or many beings for that fact. The old adage, "knowledge is power', was very much true in his world. However in this aspect the sacrifice would be worth it, for a few more pieces to the puzzle.

"I stopped counting a long time ago but the number is over a thousand." He said and she seemed to accept the answer he gave. "Is Taryn LeFay really your real name." He queried.

"Taryn is, but LeFay is fake." She said with a small smile, again it was only a hint of the usual one she was capable of producing. "Is Eric Northman your real name?"

"Eric is but Northman isn't, although it was what my people were referred to at the time. We were the north men, so I adapted it when I became a vampire… How did you come up with LeFay?"

"When I was a child I was obsessed with King Arthur and the legend of Camelot and the Knights of the round table. Morganna LeFay was my favorite." She said and he wanted to question her about why her favorite had been the villainous witch, but didn't want to waste a question on that just yet.

"Where are you from originally?" She questioned.

"Malmo, Sweden." He said and he could see the cogs in her head churning, trying to put the pieces together. But he didn't give her a chance to think to long before he was asking his next question.

"Where are you from originally?" He asked turning the question back on her.

"New York, New York."

"Really you don't strike me as a city girl, you're far to at ease out in the wilderness to be content living in the cement jungle."

"I'm here aren't I… and it wasn't your turn to ask a question."

"Wasn't a question, it was simply an observation." She gave him a look but he could tell she realized he hadn't questioned her, she'd only taken it as one.

"So what were you in your human life, like what was your occupation?"

"Well I was the son of a King, but if you had to give me an occupation I would guess the best answer was I was a Viking."

"Wait are you Eric the Victorious?" She questioned excitedly. Finally seeing that tide of fear recede, the wave of her interest in his past crashing over it, returning her back to her original state. He'd done what he'd intended to do, she wasn't scared anymore and she was back to her usual self, but she was comfortable and still held a little bit of vulnerability. His opportunity to talk to her like this again wasn't definite, so it would be wise of him to stay put and keep this going as long as possible. Plus he was extremely surprised she knew the obscure history of his people.

"That was a question and it's my turn." He said baiting her. He watched her huff and he couldn't help but smile satisfactorily.

"What was your occupation back in New York." He questioned and he watched her smile falter, and it was exactly what he was hoping for.

"I pass." She finally said.

"Then I get two more questions." He said and she sighed in frustration.

"Why is the villain from the Arthur Legends your favorite character?" He questioned and she shrugged.

"I just always liked her, I think she was terribly misunderstood but seriously twisted. Her father marries her off to a man she can't stand so she commits adultery, then she's exposed by Guinevere and tossed out of court, but she becomes Merlin's apprentice which come on that's cool. She's powerful and hurt so she seeks her revenge on those that wronged her. Anyone in that situation with that ability would do the same. Well they might not seduce their half brother and birth a seriously wicked dude like Mordred, but you get my point. She was strong and independent and stopped at nothing to correct the wrongs she felt she'd been dealt. So yeah that's why I like her I guess." She said with a shrug.

"Out of all the languages you speak what's your favorite."

"Oh I can't answer that cause you'll just think I'm brown nosing." She said with a roll of her eyes.

"I get two more questions then."

"Oh no you don't. My favorite is Swedish ok. I'm sure you just think I'm saying it but it is. I like how it can be very fluid like the romance languages but it also has a punch to it, very much like German and Russian is all the time."

"Fair enough."

"Now are you Eric the Victorious or not?" She asked.

"No I'm not Eric the Victorious I came before him, there's no actual recorded history of my life nor of my father and his father." He said and she looked a little disappointed. "How is it you know of Eric the Victorious anyway. And I don't want to hear I studied it in school, cause I know that's bullshit."

"No I didn't learn it in school, although we did touch on the Vikings but it was so very little just like one page in our history books. I just remember them being so interesting, and their mythology or theology rather, was just so different so I started studying it myself."

"So you have a thing for Vikings." He said with a cat that got the canary smile. He'd made a statement but it sounded like a question, just as he'd done before. She only gave him a look, but didn't fall for his little trick once more.

"Who was your favorite among the gods?" She asked

"Loki." He said with a smile.

"God that is so fitting." She said with a shake of her head.

"Who's your favorite among the gods?" He asked.

"Woden." She said pronouncing Odin in the old language.

"Everyone says either Odin or Thor." He said dismissively.

"No seriously I love Odin, the creator and destroyer. I have an Odin Tattoo." She said.

"You have a tattoo?" He questioned wondering where it could be, he'd seen her in rather skimpy clothing but hadn't seen a spot of ink on her flesh, which meant it could only be in a rather interesting place.

"Two actually." She said.

"I'd love to see them." He said, a request even though he didn't make it sound like one. She shifted out of the blanket pushing it down to her knees, she then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her boxers and slipped them down a little so that they hung lower on her hips, and sure enough there they were. Adjacent to both hip bones, dangerously close to the intimate place upon her body that was covered by her whisper thin black panties. A place that would be covered well by the boy shorts she'd worn the night before. What the tattoo was of though dumbfounded him, they were two simple black Norse ravens, a symbol he hadn't seen in everyday life in well over a thousand years. Sure he'd seen it in museums but never just around the corner.

He gripped her waist with one arm without even thinking and pulled her closer to him, so that the very base of her spine now rested against his thigh where her head had been. The rest of her lay across his lap, his one arm held her torso up so she wasn't laying uncomfortably across him. While the free hand pushed the small strip of fabric that was partially obscuring one of the tattoos down so he could see it all clearly. The detail was exquisite and he found his thumb brushing over the tattoo, tracing the lines as leaned closer to study it intently. He turned his head to look at her, still leaning closer to her hips, his eyes locking on hers.

"Do you know what these are?" He questioned lightly, watching her face, he could see that she was biting her lip, her cheeks a little red. She nodded her head, but he could see her shiver as his fingers passed over the sensitive spot at her hips, and he passed them over the spot once more just to watch her do it again.

"They have names." She said lightly.

"And what have you named them?" He said his eyes returning to the tattoo, fingers still playing with the one, but his thumb traveled a little closer and he heard her gasp sharply.

"Huginn and Muninn." She said and his eyes shot to look at her. She knew their names, which meant she wasn't full of shit, or just trying to come off like a Viking expert. She really did read the stories and know the tales. His whole hand moved to her center, fingers splaying so that his thumb and pinkie touched the beak of each tattoo, the heel of his palm pressing gently over where her cleft would begin. He watched her eyes widen, and her throat constricted as she swallowed hard in nervousness. He could see the conflicting emotions within her gaze.

"The raven is a very important symbol, you know. My father's banner held the raven, and whenever he flew that banner before a battle he never lost a single man. The raven made his armies invisible." He said and he watched her nod her head, her body was trembling in his grip and he knew if he pushed it just a little bit farther he'd have her to the point where she'd yield to him. All he had to do was apply a little pressure with the heel of his palm and move it in a slow circle, then maybe let his fingers dip farther down between her legs and caress her softly, and he'd have her. The look in her eyes told him plainly that she wouldn't deny him. Wouldn't stop him or tell him no. She was ripe for the picking.

But he couldn't do it. Why the fuck couldn't he do it. He wanted her, he really really wanted her, but deep down he knew if he slept with her now, that was it. She'd hate herself in the morning for it, she might even run away from him, move on to another state. Taryn was not the casual sex type, and if he took advantage of her in a vulnerable moment she was as good as gone. Plus the promise of learning what she really was and solving his little puzzle, was bigger then getting a taste of her now. But not giving into his base impulse was seriously going to hurt him later. For once, for the greater good, he was going to have to take the high road. He slipped his hand a little lower to grip the waistband of the boxers and slipped them back up her hips. He then pulled her to sit on the opposite side of his lap.

"Are you ok now, cause I really have a lot of work to get back to." He said sharply and he watched her close down in front of him, all emotions disappearing completely. No doubt she took his sudden change of emotions to be rejection. Her arms crossed over her chest hugging herself lightly. She gave one swift nod of her head but didn't speak a word. The uncomfortable tension in the air grew thick and grew thick quickly. He stood up and was ready to walk out of the room without another word, but he stopped and turned to her. "I don't know if you're going to sleep now or not but the coffee should be finished brewing in the kitchen by now, and I'll be in my office just across the hall if you should need me."

All she did was nod, pulling the blanket to her and wrapping it around her shoulders, her eyes never lifting to meet his again. He then left, closing the door behind him. He hadn't meant to be so abrupt with her, but it was the only way he was going to stop himself from doing what he'd so wanted to do, but by doing that he'd upset her. Now he had to hope that the damage he'd just caused was fixable.