Chapter 25
SPOV
I find myself pressed against the palace wall, both Eric and Godric protectively shielding me as the loud sounds of the ongoing fight continue to rise up around us. Instinctually, I reach back, gripping the hilt of my sword, telling myself this is what I've been training for, the reason my vampires have been coaching me.
"Sookie, no," Eric says softly, reaching up to place his much larger hand over my own.
"But, Eric," I argue back, noting Thalia slicing her own sword through the air beside us, effectively beheading one of the queen's armed guards with a sure swing. "They need our help," I insist, earning a firm headshake from my overly protective Maker.
"Trust me, dear one, your grandfather and his followers can hold their own just fine," Godric reassures me just as the clashing sounds of the ongoing melee begin dying down around us. My brow pinches in puzzlement, peeking out between my vampires to see Godric is most assuredly right in his assessment. The remainder of the palace's vampire guards, the ones not currently reduced to thick, bloody ruin, are upon their knees before the fae warriors, their collective hands up in surrender. Damn, those fae are good.
"Granddaughter," I hear Niall call out then, seeing him turn towards the four of us as Eric and Godric help me to my feet between them. He motions for us to join him at his place beside the jewel encrusted throne, behind which the vampire queen is currently hiding like the coward she is. "If the four of you would be so kind," he beseeches gently, motioning towards my shackled kin.
Eric and Godric reach forward, each taking hold of a set of iron shackles currently wrapped around my kin's throats and I follow suit, stepping before one of the females, though I couldn't say for sure whether it's Claudine or Claudette. Cautious, dark eyes rise up to meet my own and my undead heart swells with pity, wondering just what the three of them have been made to suffered through as we make quick work of their iron bindings.
"Ugh!" my cousin grits out before me, reaching up to tentatively touch the bloody wounds now marring the pale flesh of her slender throat. Instinctually, my eyes widen at the sight of blood and my cousin is left backing away fearfully to leave me frowning.
"Sorry," I mutter, hating that my own family holds fear for me as I find myself wrapped in my vampires' dual embrace before them. "I won't hurt you," I insist softly, watching the triplets huddle together, their mirroring, widened eyes studying us curiously.
"She is most correct, young ones," Niall reassures them, sending his nieces and nephew a sympathetic smile. "You have these four to thank for your newfound freedom, believe it or not," he adds with a small smirk as I see my cousin's jaws collectively drop in surprise. "Ah, ah, ah," Niall then says, a bright, glowing orb suddenly appearing in his hand as he turns back towards the throne. "I'm not nearly finished with you, child Queen." Sophie Anne freezes then, her ill attempted getaway abruptly foiled.
"Surely you are appeased now, having secured your followers freedom," Andre answers back, stepping protectively before his fearful Maker. "We shall offer no further resistance."
"Ah, but the time for surrender has long since passed and your queen surely knows this as well," Niall answers back coolly, eliciting matching frowns from the two vampires before him.
"Sheriff, surely you would not stand for such threats against your own queen," Andre directs at Eric then, earning but a dismissive scoff in return.
"Unlike our queen, I do not wish to see our species fall into yet another war," Eric answers back firmly, receiving hateful glowers in return from both Andre and the queen. "Especially not over something so trivial as money," he adds, bringing an incensed hiss from the queen.
"This is treason and you well know it, Sheriff!" she cries out, pointing accusingly at my blonde haired love as a wave of indignant anger rises within me. "You are sworn to protect me!"
"Like you're sworn to protect your subjects?" I argue back, stepping closer to the glaring queen. "Like you were sworn to protect Pamela Swynford De Beaufort?" I challenge, seeing her pale jaw tick in irritation.
"Sookie?" Eric questions, gaining a sympathetic gaze from me as I turn back to my Maker.
"It was her, Eric," I start with a sigh. "She commanded Bill and the others kill Pam," I enlighten him, feeling Godric's arm wrap around my shoulder as he steps to my side. "She did it as means of distracting you from the fae abductions." Godric sends his child a nod of affirmation before Eric's lethal gaze falls upon the queen.
"Eric," the queen tries to argue, shaking her head adamantly. "It wasn't like that."
"Wasn't it?" he growls back lowly, leaning closer to come face to face with the vampire monarch. "Because that sounds exactly like something a heartless bitch like you would do," he harshly accuses, bringing a deep frown to her face.
"It was strictly a business decision, nothing more. Surely you can understand this," she tries to explain, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. A malicious grin then stretches over Eric's face just before Andre's throat is clutched firmly in his hand at speeds faster even than my own vampire eyes can see.
"No!" the queen cries, reaching out towards her child.
"Not completely heartless then, are we?" the Viking warrior questions icily, his grip tightening upon Andre's throat to elicit a sickeningly wet, cracking sound.
"Please, not my Andre, anything but that," the queen unabashedly pleads, crimson tears welling in her green eyes.
"You know my Pamela died within my arms?" Eric questions, a hint of sorrow lacing his angry words as his steely, cobalt gaze bores into the queen. "That I had to feel her slowly slipping away?" he continues as Andre continues to struggle fruitlessly in his iron grip. "Painful, isn't it?" he asks of the queen. "Feeling the life you created being slowly snuffed out. It's like a piece of your very fucking soul is dying."
"No, please stop," the queen begs, her voice barely above a whisper as she falls to her knees before the resolute Viking.
EPOV
The queen falls before me, bloody tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks and I feel no ounce of sympathy for her as the vivid recollections of my own child's death play vibrantly through my mind. I now know the harsh truth. My Pamela did not accidentally stumble upon an unfortunate event to cause her subsequent death. No, this fucking bitch purposely sent my beloved child to her true death, not as a means of revenge, not even as a justly deserved punishment, but only as a means of momentarily distracting me. Like my child's life meant absolutely nothing at all.
"Please," the queen begs once more as my fist tightens around her own child's throat. She truly wants my mercy? Does she actually think she deserves as much? Where the fuck was her sense of mercy as I knelt with my Maker, holding the dying form of my beloved child whilst bloody tears streamed steadily down my own face?
"No," is all I answer simply. In an abrupt flash of red, Andre's head is torn swiftly from his body by my own hands. The queen's jaw drops in shock as the bloody ruin of her child showers down upon her. Arms wrap themselves around me then and I let out a small sigh pulling my two loves tighter against me, finding much needed solace in their loving arms. The three of us are coated in the crimson remnants of the queen's second, yet we remain utterly unfazed by this as the bonds between us are overflowing with our combined devotions, our unyielding love for one another.
After some time, though I can admit I have absolutely no idea how much exactly, someone clears their throat loudly and I'm abruptly shaken from my reverie as I glance up to see Niall's smiling face. My brows rise, having long forgotten the prince's presence as I work to compose myself once more.
"Sorry," I mutter to the prince, not having meant to lose my cool entirely in front of the seemingly amused monarch.
"Not at all," he answers back dismissively. "But I'm afraid we're not quite finished here," he adds, turning his gaze towards the blood coated, weeping queen still kneeling before us.
"Of course," I answer back, pulling myself together once more, a part of me dreading what is to come next as the queen's imminent death will only ensure her suffering is much, much too fucking fleeting. The queen raises her blood coated face, utter defeat written across her features as she gazes up to the fae prince.
"There are rules, Sophie Anne Leclurq, treaties long set in place by our peoples that are to be followed. By both sides," Niall's booming voice sounds as the queen's head drops in defeat. "You have inflicted purposeful harm to multiple members of the fae, to my own bloodkin. The price of these crimes which you so carelessly committed can only be paid with your own life," he explains, earning only a pitiful whimper in return. "Granddaughter," he calls then, looking back to my child. Sookie's brows rise in surprise before she steps closer to her grandfather.
"Yes, Grandfather?" she questions softly as the prince grants her an indulgent smile.
"It is thanks to you and your vampires that I have my nieces and nephew at my side once more," he informs her. "I believe it only fitting that you grant the killing blow this night," he explains, eliciting mirroring shock from around the room. Well, I certainly didn't see this one coming.
"Grandfather?" she questions, earning a wide grin in return.
"I fear you may never be granted the chance to lead the fae, to take your rightful place at my side," he remarks gently, reaching up to tenderly tuck a wayward, golden tendril behind her ear. "But this does not change the fact that royal blood flows within your veins, Granddaughter mine. You were born to rule," he insists, eliciting a wave of shock from my child as Godric looks over to me with an approving grin.
"But, Grandfather, I'm so young," she argues softly. "And I know nothing about ruling, besides, who would ever listen to me?" she questions tentatively before Godric and I are both stepping forward, taking each of her hands into our own. Niall grants us an approving smile.
"I believe you have all the help you should ever need," he answers back, a twinkle of delight shining in his pale blue eyes. "And I'm always but a call away," he adds, motioning towards Sookie's gleaming necklace. Sookie looks back and forth between us then, probing our shared bonds to find only our unyielding support and love.
"You really think I could do this?" she questions softly, earning dual nods in return.
"Of this, I have no doubt, my child," I answer back, granting her a warm smile that she quickly returns.
"Your grandfather is most correct, dear one. You truly were born to lead," Godric assures her, his emerald eyes shining in affection. Sookie takes a deep breath then, nodding to the two of us before reaching back to sweep her cascading hair over her shoulder. She proceeds to unsheathe the deadly weapon from it's place along her spine and my undead heart swells with pride as I watch her step fearlessly before the kneeling queen.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," grits out Sophie Anne, shaking her blood coated head at the lot of us. "You'll really let some blonde bimbo replace me? She's no one, just a pathetic waitress from some backwoods town," she sneers hatefully, eliciting waves of rage from Godric and myself. Low laughter sounds out around us then and I'm shocked to note the sound is rising from the throat of my own child.
"You know, only night's before, I may very well have agreed with you," Sookie answers back bemusedly, turning her gaze over her shoulder to grant Godric and myself a grateful smile. "But the woman you speak of died the night I lost my mortal life. I am Sookie Stackhouse, child of Eric Northman, grandchild of Godric of Gaul as well as the great grandchild of Prince Niall of the Sky Fae and though I can admit I'm not perfect, nowhere near it in fact, I hold no doubt I'll at least make a better queen than you ever did, Sophie Anne."
The queen's brows rise in shock as my child deftly raises her sword, a look of grim determination etched over her ethereal face before she's easily slicing her weapon through the air, succeeding in beheading the queen with one sure stroke. Odin, how I love this strong willed woman. Long live the queen.