Dead and Damned
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bad Blood
Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood or its characters.
Sorry for errors! Hope you enjoy.
As I make my way, the incline gets steeper, trees grow thinner until there is only boulders with dead grass woven between them. Soon the grass is gone as well. The boulders melt into each other. All that's left is the sharp ascent of the granite mountain side.
My fingers and toes dug into the rocks, wind blew my hair. As I climb up to Godric, I cannot help but admire his physique. He was bent at the knees with his upper body brought forward and down. Godric was perched on a ledge high above me in an animalistic crouch; resembling a wild feline ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
His gaze stayed on the landscape until I reach him. It took minimal effort to lift myself onto the large rock protruding from the mountainside. My hip brushes him when I sit on the edge.
Grey-blue eyes held a mocking glint when they cut to me. A cruel smile curled on thick lips. "Du har beviljat Eric benådning, jag hör." (You've granted Eric reprieve, I hear.)
"Eadric's insisterande är att tacka för det." (Eadric's insistence is to thank for that.) Outwardly I keep my composure. Inwardly my hackles rise at his expression and tone. I was not going to like where this conversation is heading. He ignored our fight entirely until now, clearly he'll be silent no longer.
Godric gave a harsh laugh. "Vilken ömtålig sak du är." (What a fragile thing you are.)
"Ömtålig." (Fragile.) I repeat in scathing disbelief. I am no such thing.
"Vad annars gör du benämna någon vars känslor är mycket svårt sårad av a enkel förolämpning, de tjura För säsonger?" (What else do you call someone whose feelings are so grievously wounded by a simple insult, they sulk for seasons on end?)
Anger set my very bones alight. You wouldn't know it by how perfectly neutral my tone was when I replied, "Det är inte vad som hände." (That is not what happened.)
Godric's eyebrows raise with feigned intrigue. "Nej?" (No?)
"Behandlar mig med respektlöshet kommer inte att tolereras. Jag var undervisning honom den där." (Treating me with disrespect will not be tolerated. I was teaching him that.) My lips quirk upward. "De inflytande över honom var roligt också. Vilket är jag släpade den på." (The leverage over him was enjoyable as well. Which is why I dragged it on so long.)
"Ganska ord för en ganska liten blomma." (Pretty words for a pretty little flower.) He continued to mock. Boy Death was not convinced.
The reference to my so called 'fragility' was irksome.
"Det är sanningen." (It is the truth.) Though only in part. I was not able to admit he was right, Eric's words did wound me.
"Jag tror inte det." (I think not.) Godric took on a scolding tone. "Det jag ser är dina känslor som dominerar dig. Vi måste alltid ha kontroll över sådana saker, Alva." (What I see is your emotions dominating you. We must always be in control of such things, Alva.)
I said nothing. It wouldn't matter if I did. He cannot be swayed when he is like this.
There was a brief lull in the discussion. After that, Godric's voice softened into one of a mentor patiently teaching his protégé. "Kärlek är för människor och det är giftigt. Lämna dig ett besatt, rubbad, eko av vem du brukade vara. Det tar kontroll över alla aspekter av din existens. Du förlorar syn på vad som verkligen är viktigt. Överlevnadsinstinkter försämras. Innan du vet det, har den personen all kraft att fullständigt förstöra dig. Särskilt när kärlek till den romantiska övertalningen är inblandad." (Love is for humans and it is toxic. Leaving you an obsessed, deranged, echo of who you used to be. It takes control of every aspect of your existence. You lose sight of what's truly important. Survival instincts deteriorate. Before you know it, that person holds all the power to utterly destroy you. Particularly when love of the romantic persuasion is involved.)
"Vad av familjel kärlek?" (What of familial love?) Genuine curiosity colored my voice.
Because he was properly explaining his opinion, instead of sneering at me with mockery and slander, I listened. All my temper and defensiveness evaporated.
"Familial kärlek är bara en annan ursäkt för att rättfärdiga mänsklig svaghet. Det är ett gift av ett annat slag. Det ruttna inuti dig, lämnar dig mottaglig för vissa... hemsökelse du normalt inte skulle vara. Emotions moln anledning, orsakar att du har allvarlig misstag I utslag." (Familial love is just another excuse to justify human weakness. It is a poison of a different sort. It festers inside of you, leaving you susceptible to certain… afflictions you normally would not be. Emotions cloud reason, causing you to have severe lapses in judgment.) Godric informed me. "Det finns skäl vi överger vårt mänskliga liv när vi vänder oss. Mer än bara att behålla vår typ av hemlighet från dem. Klängande till dina mänskliga bilagor gör dig svag. Det håller vårt art tillbaka från att nå vår fulla potential. Eric dra ut de mänsklig i dig. Förståelig, se hur han var där varaktigheten av den. Dock kort det kan ha varit." (There are reasons we abandon our human life when we are turned. More than simply keeping the existence of our kind a secret from them. Clinging to your human attachments makes you weak. It holds our kind back from reaching our full potential. Eric brings out the human in you, Alva. Understandable, seeing how he was there for the duration of it. However short it may have been.)
There was no denying the logic in his words. My brother does evoke the old, human-Alva.
Eric isn't the same person he was when we were alive. He grew; the experiences in his human and demonic life both changed him. Despite that, sometimes an expression, tone, or action will remind me of the boy he used to be.
It made me nostalgic to look at him. To see the boy I learned sword fighting and the like with, because Father refused to raise a woman utterly reliant on others to keep her safe. He wanted a strong, capable daughter.
Eric and I were always so competitive during those lessons, trying desperately to outdo the other.
I also remember the brother who went away to hunt and pillage for the first time. He was never so far out of my reach before then. It worried me greatly. Sewing is a womanly art. Nevertheless, Eric asked Mother to tutor him upon his return so he could use his animal pelts to craft me a cloak.
Mother and Father were people I constantly wanted to be strong for. So when I was a wee slip of a girl, it was Eric I ran to when howling storms frightened me. They sounded as if the gods themselves were fighting with each other or were livid with us. I never could decide which. Eric always knew how to calm me down, make me feel safer.
"För ditt eget välbefinnande måste du avstå från den mänskliga tjejen. Hon är död, Alva." (For your own well-being you must distance yourself from that human girl. She is dead, Alva.) Godric went on to say in concerned fashion. "Ditt förhållande till Eric är en mycket förstörande. Båda kommer att dra nytta av att byta band i friskare riktning." (Your relationship with Eric is a very destructive one. Both of you will benefit from shifting the bond in healthier direction.)
Is that what happened to me in the future I was told about? My unhealthy bond with Eric festered inside of me until I was a soft and sentimental fool. Someone whose emotions constantly cloud my reason, deteriorating my survival instincts. Is that why I turned a weak, disloyal, unworthy human who betrayed me?
"Hur gör jag det?" (How do I accomplish that?)
My lover moves to runs his fangs along the column of my throat. Godric's voice became a seductive purr. "Jag ska lära dig." (I'll teach you.)
"Om vi håller på vår människa jag är giftigt, varför hjälper du oss att hitta våra föräldrars mördare?" (If holding onto our human-selves is poisonous, why are you helping us find our parents' killer?) I tilt my head to give him better access. Arousal starts to stir inside me.
In-between nips and sucks he answers me. Each one sent a jolt down my spine. "Uppriktigt sagt tycker jag att det är ett oönskat slöseri med tid, men jag gjorde ett löfte att hämnas dem. Precis som jag gjorde ett löfte för att lära honom allt jag vet, gå med honom genom mörkret. Att vara hans far, hans bror och hans son. Inget löfte jag gör till Eric håller större vikt än en annan." (Frankly I think it's an irreverent waste of time, but I made a vow to avenge them. Just as I made a vow to teach him all I know, walk with him through the darkness. To be his father, his brother, and his son. No promise I make to Eric holds more weight than another.)
I felt a softness in my heart at his words that confused me. Shrugging it off, I perceived it to only be appreciating his dedication to my brother. That made sense. "Du är en bra Skapare." (You're a good Maker.)
Godric sat with his back against the mountain. His legs stretched in front of him, dirty feet hung off the edge.
"Smickeri kommer att få dig ingenstans, min Ásynja." (Flattery will get you nowhere, my Ásynja.) He chuckled, lounging on the ledge as if it were a throne. Ásynja is an Aesir goddess. Which are the principal gods of the pantheon.
We didn't have an extraordinary amount of room up here, but I move to straddle his waist. The ruined dress bunched up around my hips. My crotch pressed into his, bare knees dug into the rock. "Min Loki." (My Loki.)
Loki, the trickster. His cunning schemes that trapped the gods in perilous situations time and again. The most unpredictable god in the pantheon and extremely dangerous. His activities ran from merely mischievous to blatantly malicious. He was supremely clever as well.
Survival was important to him. As is shown in the tale of The Kidnapping of Idun.
The god ends up in the hands of a furious giant, Thiazi, who threatens to kill Loki unless he brings him the goddess Idun. After complying, he finds himself having the other gods threaten him with death unless he rescues Idun. He agrees to this request for the same base motive, shifting his shape into that of a falcon and carrying the goddess back to Asgard in his talons.
Godric says, 'there is no right or wrong, only survival or death.' He would feel no shame in sending someone else to their death, if it meant ensuring his survival. He'd even go back and rescue that very same person, to guaranty the same thing.
Loki was a traitor to the divinities my people held in such reverence. My father loathed that particular god. I wasn't very fond of him either until a time after my death, when I fully adjusted and my humanity was gone. It was then my opinion of him changed, looking through the eyes of the monstrous new existence I had. I realized, while he didn't uphold my human values, he was far more deserving of appreciation than I initially thought when I was alive.
It was a very fitting name for Godric. He was my very own Loki.
"Var försiktig." (Be careful.) He grinned roguishly, rolling his hips into mine. "Vi vill inte falla av." (We do not want to fall off.)
"Däremot." (On the contrary.) I tease silkily into his ear. "Jag har aldrig tumblat ner ett berg medan finnas hänrycka, men det kan vara spännande. Liten smärta kan ge mycket nöje." (I've never tumbled down a mountain while being ravished, but it could be exciting. A little pain can bring a lot of pleasure.)
Before he could reply I crushed my lips to his. We did not engaged in anything pleasurable last night, apart from the kiss we always share when we rise. I was going to make sure tonight does not end similarly.
My fingers dance down his powerful torso. Godric's tongue swept over my lips. At my grant of access, his tongue barely entered my mouth before withdrawing. He continued those motions, going deeper into my mouth every time. Our hips continued to roll and thrust. Fingers raked through my hair, curling around the light tresses. With a strong jerk of his hand, Godric tilted my head the way he wanted it.
The physical stimulation from his lips, tongue, and the way we moved against each other was a tease. Every time our fangs brushed or he curled his tongue around one, I let out a moan. Shockwaves traveled through my body, heat pooled in my abdomen. At first I was content to enjoy the slow build up.
My fingers knew just the way Godric like to be touched; when, where, and how much pressure to use. He knew how to touch me to make any semblance of a thought process difficult. After a while my patience for the foreplay ran out. I shift my hips back toward his knees slightly, instantly missing the friction of his clothed cock against my center. My nails scratch down his muscular stomach, intending to free him from dirty woolen trousers. Our lips stayed together, tongues playfully battling.
Godric grabbed my wrists unexpectedly. My first thought, was that he was going to make me work for it again. He enjoys dragging out foreplay for an absurd amount of time. I enjoy it as much as the next person, but he takes it to a whole other level.
When he pulled away from the kiss, I opened my eyes. The serious look on his face told me that wasn't the case.
Something was wrong.
"Godric?" I inquire.
"Eric." He answered. "Något är fel." (Something is amiss.)
As soon as the words left his lips my bond with Eadric flared. He was in trouble. Godric took me and leapt into the sky. My nails dung into his neck. I wrap my legs around his slim waist.
Eadric? I demand. The reply was immediate: Nomads causing trouble. We have it handled. He sounded neither scared nor uneasy. My Child was furious and determined. Good. That was my strong boy.
"Nomader." (Nomads.) I whisper worriedly, heart clenching tightly. "Min Eadric, han är för ung." (My Eadric, he's too young.)
My Child is a great warrior, and clever, nevertheless his age gives him a great disadvantage. Even after over half a century in this existence, I am still young.
"Oroa dig inte." (Worry not.) Godric reassured, speeding up.
I adore flying with him. The sheer speed he was able to shoot through the sky was exhilarating. I cannot wait until I am old enough to move this fast on my own. I remember the first time I flew on his back. I thought to myself: Feeling his power and strength is only thing keeping me from feeling absurd. How amusing must I look, traveling on the back of someone smaller than me?
The concern I felt was too strong for me to smile at the memory. I kept analyzing my bond with Eadric. The flare of danger was still pulsing. We closed the distance between us and our Progenies quickly.
I felt the presence of five below us before I saw them. Godric flew higher, going through another layer of cloud. What normally would have been countless water droplets, are ice crystals because of how cold it was up here. The chill did not bother me.
Godric paused, hovering in the sky. We were 5,000 meters up.
My hands move to his shoulders and push down. He shook his head 'no'. I could have let go and dropped. Landing from this distance is very easy. I resisted the urge. Frankly, he probably would have caught and restrained me. Regardless, I trusted his judgement.
We will wait.
Two of my kind moved in and out of a clearing; Eric and someone unknown. They fought. Eric held his own with difficulty, using his surrounding and intelligence to make up for lack of age.
I could hear him talking. Because I knew him, I also knew the idle chatter and occasional insult was intended to stall, distract, and find a weakness. Mostly the arrogant older female just snickered and treated him like a cat would a mouse. Playing with him before the kill. She would not let him go too deep into the forest before herding him back to the clearing.
Three were in the woodland surrounding them, one was my Child. A male disengaged and fled. Godric's looming aura frightened him off. It was not someone he wished to fight. The ancients' age surpassed theirs.
My lover's nearness threw the remaining foe off their game. Clearly they were not expecting the younglings they came across to have such a powerful companion. Eadric used the distraction to his advantage. He staked his opponent when a brown eyed gaze whipped from his retreating comrade up to the sky. All previous bravado vanished. He wasn't so cocky now. The unsure, panicked expression was his last.
The arrogant female did not flee. She abandoned her composure and lunged at Eric with a fierce snarl. I suppose she figured if she was going to meet true death, she'd take Eric with her. My brother set his jaw and shifted his stance. The grip on his stake tightened.
Godric descended from the sky and beheaded her before she could reach him. The night demon exploded; spraying my lover, the ground, and partly me. Boy Death tilted his head approvingly at Eric for refusing to cower. He did as well as he could have in the situation.
Speaking of…
I smoothly drop to my feet and pick a piece of skin from my hair. "Jag är stolt över dig, Eadric. Du gjorde bra." (I am proud of you, Eadric. You did well.)
"Tack." (Thank you.) My Child preened with pride. His spine automatically straightened and his hand flew up to primp his ebony curls.
"Jag njuter alltid av att flyga med dig." (I always enjoying flying with you.) I tell Godric enviously, changing the subject. It was over now; no point in wasting any more time on those nomads. "Jag önskar att jag kunde flyga." (I wish I could fly.)
Eadric grinned at his father. "Synd det är inte något du ärvt." (Pity it's not something you inherited.)
"Godrics flygningsförmåga uppenbarades inte förrän han var nästan ett sekel." (Godric's ability of flight did not manifest until he was nearly a century.) Eric smirked. "Jag kanske flyger än." (I might fly yet.)
"Du kommer." (You will.) Godric sounded very sure of that fact.
Despite my best intentions to finish what we started, my brother ended up enticing me into a competition. It started out as using parts of branches and combating with our makeshift swords. Then it transformed trying to pin Eric more times than he could pin me. We got carried away, doing one contest after another. Eadric joined in and before I knew it, sunrise was nearing.
Before we went to ground, I made sure my Child and I had enough time for one last feed. Eadric wanted to share tonight; for our meal he chose a short male, with light brown eyes that stood out beautifully against his dark skin. He was gruff-looking, but handsome enough. The alcohol lingering in his blood added a piquant taste to it.
Are we going to finish seeing the aftermath of the war before leaving? Eadric inquired. Rumor has it Jayapala will be bound and paraded. We were enshrouded deep in the earth. His was head tucked into my neck while I held him in a protective embrace.
So far Jayapala's people have been captured, even the children, and their valuable personal adornments ripped from them.
If so, it will most likely take place during the day. I doubt we will be able to witness it. I reply, feeling the pull of the sun steal my consciousness. It interrupted whatever Eadric would have replied with. Hours passed in what felt like a mere moment. When the sun set our sense of awareness returned. An urgency pulsed in our bond, warning me that my Child was extremely unwell.
He was not the only one.
It felt like all the blood in my dead veins was replaced with rough sand. Most of the strength I possessed was stolen from me. It was harder than it should have been to dig ourselves out. The gods themselves pressed on my body, weighing me down. My movements are slow, clumsy, and a touch painful. My thoughts foggy and disoriented.
Aunt Alva. Eadric weakly called out to me through our bond. He was on the ground with a part of his legs still moving in the earth. His arms shook when he attempted to rise. What is happening?
I wish I had an answer to give.
It was then how exposed and vulnerable we were truly sunk in. I shifted so was half-collapsed over him, shielding his body with my own. We should have stayed underground. What in Odin's name was I thinking, bringing Eadric out in the open like this?
Hep D was shown to us in the first season. A human named Jerry was trying to infect Malcom with it. Sookie was the only reason it didn't work. There was no smell or anything that gave his "bad blood" away. The virus has no effect on humans, but it poisons vampires, leaving them vulnerable to being harmed or killed.
Symptoms:
In the show it was revealed the vampire is severely weakened for months, losing speed and strength. A feeling of pain and discomfort gets stronger the longer they are ill.
That will be true in my story, but I will add my own person touch. In my version the vampire will also grow to be delirious and have hallucinations.
