His Guiding Star

For the knowledge of the Runes, Odin hung upon Ygdrasil for nine days without food or water, his own spear piercing his side.

Starved and bled, Eric remained chained for far longer than that, and to what end he knew not.

With tired sunken eyes, muscles aching from silver nitrate coursing through his veins, he looked out upon the rolling land from his great ash tree, its green pastures and vast forests, lakes deep and blue, and mountains jutting in the distance to the sky.

He was no god, this he remained certain of, though other lines between reality and other had faded some time ago. At times the ravens would come to him, bearing some small tiding. In his heart he remained certain Sookie yet lived, and he clung to this token as his last thread of sanity.

It was a lone white bird streaking through the sky that drew Eric's attention from the land before him one night. Closer and closer the graceful shape neared, until light as a feather, the swan landed at the foot of his tree.

Certain some illusion appeared only to taunt him, Eric pressed closed his eyes.

"What trouble you've managed to land in this time, my golden warrior."

Blue eyes flew open, to regard a woman now standing before him. Nude as Venus, her skin glowed alabaster in the twilight, a wealth of hair red as rubies spilling down past her waist.

A single, golden leaf fell from a branch above, drifting between them. The woman clasped it between her long fingers, looking upon it intently, before crunching it to a thousand pieces within her fist. "More and more fall with every passing day. The twilight of the Gods will be upon us soon." She released the fragments of leaf to blow away in the wind, the particles glittering in the moonlight as they drifted away. "Once, we were strong in the thoughts of men. The line between our world and yours ran so very thin - now, our bones are weary with the weakness of the forgotten."

"I have not forgotten you, Sinead." Once, he'd known this woman intimately - - had hoped, perhaps foolishly - to build a life with her. But that was lifetimes ago.

In a thousand years, she'd hardly aged ten.

"What are you?" he dared ask her, as cautiously she approached him.

"I walk in many worlds, though I have never quite belonged in any of them." Sinead raised a hand to stroke Eric's face, brushing hair from his eyes. "My father was a king of the Fey, my mother, a swan maiden. At the time you found me, I had hoped to make a place for myself in the world of men. And when you left, I realized it could never be so."

"You knew that Appius would defeat me."

Sinead stood on tiptoe to press a cautious kiss to Eric's lips. He did not reject her, sinking into her warmth; there was a pang in his heart, the pain of a love long lost but not dead.

A part of him felt certain he would awake from this dream at any moment.

"I knew the Norns wove a separate fate for you an I. Nothing remained for me in that spot in the woods, but the seed you left in my womb."

"For the sake of revenge, I left you to raise our child alone," Eric mourned, bowing his head to rest against Sineads.

"I only regret that you never met our son, Sigurd. So brave and handsome like his father, though I like to think with a bit more of his mother's sense." Eric laughed, though in his breast burned the urge to weep for all that had been lost.

"And you've been keeping an eye on our line through all these years, have you not? Great Aunt Thyra?"

Sinead's lips curled in a knowing smile; she'd been fond of that particular sobriquet, fleeting though it was.

"It's not so simple as that. I chose to take a place beside my mother in Asgard, but there are rules now. We cannot flit back and forth between the realms as we please. But Heimdall gives me leave to cross the rainbow bridge in times when my kin truly need me. However, all these years, you never needed me, until now."

"Had I known you would come for me, I would have chained myself to a wall long ago." Even on the brink of death, Eric could find strength to flirt with a beautiful woman.

"Would you have done such a thing for me?" Sinead seemed pleased by the thought, hungry for a sacrifice. To be remembered, to know worship.

"Yes. All these years, and no word. Why did you not come to me? Not tell me of our child, and his child, all the way to - -"

Once more, Sinead captured his lips, more deeply this time. With every kiss, Eric felt a bit more strength enter his bones, reviving him slowly. "Because you'd become vampire, Eric, and I feared what darkness you might bring upon them, even unintentionally. Sigurd wed a half-fey, as have many of the others, through time. They are a family of light, which vampires have been known to prey upon, greedily."

"I wouldn't have - -"

"You have not always been a saint in your long years. I know, I have seen it." Her green gaze weighed upon him, and Eric found it a difficult thing to meet.

"I can be persuaded to behave."

"Yes. I have seen that too. Your Sookie holds such sway over you. She casts spells without even meaning to - there is great raw power in that one."

"Sookie is no spell caster," Eric argued.

"Isn't she? You are not the only one who is completely infatuated with her. Who would follow her to Hel itself if she crooked her finger. She does not know the power she has."

"You speak of Henrik." Eric's tone came only a shade darker at the mention of his rival. He'd begun to find peace with the boy, on top of Sinead's hands roaming over his form. Slowly, the pain began to subside, and he wondered what magic she worked upon him. Under her breath she whispered the runes for health and restoration, and at long last a ray of hope split the clouds of his horizon.

"Yes. I speak of Henrik. A fine man, that one. He has made me proud. You have to forgive them when the time comes, Eric."

"Forgive them for what?"

"For loving. She loves you both, and there is no true shame in it. She has chosen to be with you, but so long as there is warmth in her heart for the doctor, he will never be free of her."

"It sounds like a curse."

"A curse and a blessing. She is of Niall Brigant's line, and it is a gift they hold."

"Is this a dream?" he posed as Sinead kissed him once more.

"Not exactly." Her lips trailed down the column of his throat, eager for the taste of him. Though she bore fond memories, she'd forgotten how very beautiful her Viking to be, when washed from the grime and sweat of a battle.

"Are we in Asgard?"

Sinead's lips curled against his skin as he questioned her.

"Not exactly."

Vaguely, Eric became aware of their shifting surroundings. Where there had been dark, there was now light on the horizon. The grass below them grew thicker, and flowers bloomed around the roots of the great ash.

"What are you doing?" dared ask the vampire, even as he couldn't exactly be sure he cared. Her magic filled him with strength, slowly restored him. Voraciously, he hungered for the life in her touch, and suddenly felt terrified at the thought of letting her go.

"My powers lay in the arena of life, Eric. I will heal you, so that you can restore order of the chaos that has been wreaked upon our family."

"For what price?"

"You think I would charge for such a thing?"

Slightly she withdrew, so that Eric strained against his bindings, unable to bear the absence of her skin.

With all the might in his arms and all the force of his will, he pulled, until the clear high sound of metal breaking rang through the air.

At long last, he was free.

He looked down at wrists bloodied from the manacles, and they shed from him as an old skin, his wounds sealing over.

Sinead looked upon him with a smile, and no sooner had her lips curled were Eric's upon them, pulling her into a heated kiss. "Were your powers so great when last I knew you?" he asked, laying her down in the soft grass below them. He felt strong, yet light headed, floating on a cloud. As though somehow his hands were not entirely attached to the rest of him, as they roamed over the half-fey's curves below him. Was this her spell, or the magic they always seemed able to create together, he wondered?

"I had not yet discovered their potential," she confessed.

"But little else has changed," declared Eric, gazing down at her soft beauty, pale skin spread out before him as a milky dream.

"I like to think I'm still the infuriatingly stubborn girl you knew."

"I have a weakness for them."

And even with Eric's lips upon hers, Sinead felt a pang of jealousy for the little blond who excelled so well at stealing the hearts of northmen. It could not be helped, Sinead fought to remind herself. Her time with Eric had passed, she lived for other things now. Oh, but she hungered for him, the way she always had. From the very moment she lay eyes upon his broken body in the woods, and realized the spark of life within him had not yet gone. She'd vowed to bring him back to life then, the same as she would now.

"Drink from me, Eric. You will be restored completely."

Eric's weight settled atop her, and Sinead sighed for it, for the cherished memory become reality once more. She had not known the touch of a man in a good long while - - ultimately, she tired of them, and took refuge in woman's ways, in her family of swans. But none had ever quite compared to the thorough way Eric had loved her, and without remorse she allowed him to settle between her thighs.

"May I?" Eric nuzzled the pulse upon her neck, and only then was he reminded of his hunger. How very sweet her fey blood smelled, pulsing beneath the skin. He felt dizzy with desire, such things as reason and restraint becoming foggy, tenebrous things within him.

"I'm trusting you not to end me, Eric. Many fey have died in such a way."

He cradled her head in his large hand, marveling at the color of her hair. No human could ever quite match it. "Is that why you have gone all these years without finding me?" he asked, twining a ruby lock about his fingers. "You were afraid I would hurt you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind. I watched you, from time to time, you know. Curious how you fared. If your will as a human was irresistible, as a vampire you became a force of nature. Impossible to refuse."

Eric could not deny it.

"Do you trust me now?"

"More than I did then. Drink, Eric. This is the way our fate is intertwined, it seems. I am destined to bolster you on the eves of your greatest battles." Even with tears in her eyes, she paid him a brave smile.

"Still, after all these years, you love me." It did not exactly come as a question - - she would not risk so much for a passing fancy. For the sake of a family member perhaps, but he knew, in the way she looked upon him. Emerald eyes filled with such a mixture of warmth and regret, memories of long nights spent before a fire, taking refuge in each other from the snows blowing high outside their door.

"My heart will never be free of you," she acknowledged. "But nor do I wish it to. If theses are to be our only moments in a millennium, Eric, then make them a worthy farewell. That is all I ask of you." Her hips rolled against his, tearing a groan from the Viking. Though she knew ultimately Eric belonged to another now, she could not bring herself to remember or care at that moment. She wanted him with such a rabid voracity that had not affected her in centuries, and she felt her claim to be a valid one.

She'd brought him back from the dead, and Eric knew not how to refuse her.

Nor, really, truth be told, did he want to, her lithe live body so warm and inviting beneath him. Past memory and present invitation proved an intoxicating potion; Eric shifted his weight just slightly, hovering outside her entrance. "This is what you want?" he asked of her, rubbing himself against her warmth.

"Yes," she sighed against his skin, thrown into the maelstrom of the memories of him. "One more taste for both of us." With a roll of his hips Eric granted her wish, and a blissful cry escaped her, her head thrown back between her shoulders.

She had not realized how very much she'd missed him, until desire threatened to burn down her door, her golden warrior filling every inch of her once more. As a younger woman, she'd found a prophetic significance in this, she'd so desired the Viking to stay with her. To be hers. Later, she simply realized it to be a rare and special thing. No one, not fey nor god nor man had ever loved her quite the way Eric had, and in her hunger for this intimacy once more she gave no protest. Gladly she forgot the world outside for these stolen moments of bliss in his arms. Only as Eric brought them to the brink did he sink fangs past the pearlescent skin of her throat, and gladly she gave him far more than blood, even as she felt her own self weaken beneath him. Their finish was a glorious thing, neither able to discern where one body ended and the other began.

Eric collapsed atop her, and only minutes later, when he was able to rise upon elbows again, did he find they lay not upon the softest grasses of Asgard, but the cold stone floor of Frode's dungeon. The lines between illusion and reality blurred - - however, he was free, his chains heaped in a pile upon the floor, and Sinead bled from two small punctures upon her throat beneath him. He watched them close of their own accord, and she regarded him with hooded eyes and a satiated smile.

"Can you stand?"

Neither seemed terribly sure of their feet at the moment.

The guard slept in the corner, and Eric wondered what sort of spell the half-fey had cast upon him. Gingerly, he helped her to her feet, and she swayed only for a moment before regaining her composure. Restoring Eric leeched most of her own strength; she knew it would be years, before she felt back to rights. However, looking upon the Viking standing so tall once more, she deemed it well worth the price.

"How do you feel?"

Eric massaged his temples in response. "You have broken the spell." He realized he possessed all the knowledge of all he'd done in his long life. There were no more gaps, no pieces missing. And it was the memory of a bright-eyed telepath that captivated him most at that moment, her infectious smile, and the knowledge that she was in great danger in the hands of Queen Sophie-Anne.

With sorrow in her heart, but the acceptance of the inevitable, Sinead watched Sookie's memory fire the vampire's eyes alight. She knew their short time to be finished already, yet he'd granted her far more than she'd ever sought for herself. "You must go to her. And Henrik. Sophie-Anne has taken them both prisoner."

Eric nodded sagely. "But first, Fionn must die. We'll never be safe on this earth, so long as he walks it. My child is in his thrall."

Listening carefully to the pounding of music from above, Eric knew them to be in the basement dungeon of Club Loki. Neither Frode nor Fionn could be far away.

Another presence caught Eric's attention, in the room next to theirs. He found Pamela chained in the fashion as he had been, although merely starved, and not treated with silver nitrate. With all the tenderness of a father Eric broke her chains, catching her limp form in his arms. "Eric," she sighed, and it was all she could muster.

"I'm here," he assured her. "Stay here, I have some business to attend to. I promise to come back." They left her wrapped in Sinead's cloak, a garment that shimmered as gemstones in the sun.

OIOIOIO

Frode lounged upon the throne high in the loft of Club Loki, a beautiful fang-banger lying prostrate at his feet. All was going as planned. Five months had passed as this, and he rather liked being in charge. Slowly, Viggo still wasted away, now hovering on death's door. Soon, he would be King in name, and not just regency.

As a trophy, Eric's sword hung upon the wall behind his throne, in all its terrible glory.

Fionn too seemed to be enjoying himself, having discarded that hideously cliché black cloak he favored when left to his own devices. Some vampires cannot let go of the past, or the garment styles they once lived in.

The party throbbed on below, little mortals whirling about, grasping desperately at something to pass the time before death found them. Frode regarded them over the railing with disdain; but, he liked their money, and the occasional meal such an establishment as this easily brought their way.

The night had been going well; the club was frantically busy, the night's take would be a large one. He'd already fed once; maybe later he would again. These flighty beauties were almost too easy to glamour into returning home with him.

However, when the lights died, instinctively Frode knew something to be very wrong. An eery hush fell over the club, the music killed. Emergency flood lights illuminated the interior of the vast building as a stage; then, the squealing began. Most of the humans headed for the door, rushing to the exits.

So easy to scare.

"Go see what the hell is going on," Frode barked to one of his subordinates. The vampire quickly scrambled to the stairs, only to stop dead in his tracks for the rock that blocked his way. Eric Northman stood at the head of the stairs, his eyes cold as glaciers.

"How the…" Frode shot an uneasy glance towards Fionn, who seemed just as confused as he.

Eric addressed the courtiers that sat at attention, sensing their leader's unrest. "You would let these traitors sit upon your King's throne, while he lays prone in his bed, poisoned?"

Most shot dark looks Frode and Fionn's way - - most suspected them of some treachery, but possessed neither the power nor proof to challenge him. It was the way of the vampire world. However, all preferred Viggo's rule to his subordinates, and none favored the fey-vampire's puppet mastery.

"You have no power here, Northman," Frode spoke, a tremor in his tone. "Your child is dying, and I am his heir."

"Not if I kill you," put Eric plainly.

"So it is true then. You have wanted the crown all along."

"I have wanted nothing but to be left alone. You're free to walk away, Frode, so long as you never show your sniveling coward's face here again. But you," Eric punctuated with a long finger extended in Fionn's direction, "Have much to answer for."

Fionn stood from his chair, shoving the fangbanger aside that lounged upon him. "How did you break my spell?" At that moment Sinead stepped forward. Though half his size, her presence commanded the same respect as the Viking beside her. Swathed in a robe of green, she glowed with the remainder of her powers, as a porcupine bristling her quills. "Oh look, you've brought a little halfling with you," Fionn sneered.

Eric spied his sword upon the wall behind Frode. "Give that back to me," he bade with murder in his eyes, and Frode of a mere 400 years could see there remained no choice. Moving slowly, he brought down the ancient weapon from the wall. Eric could sense his treachery from a mile away, and as the younger vampire attempted to take Eric unawares, he caught Frode's arm, gripping his throat in his other hand. None flinched, and some even cheered, as Eric's fingers found their way through the soft flesh to grip Frode's spinal cord, snapping it in two. With disgust Eric sent the head rolling across the floor, letting the body fall where it would.

"Does anyone here dispute my right to this justice?" barked Eric to the crowd, and none proved willing to place themselves in the middle.

Quietly Fionn muttered, and as Eric approached with the great sword in his hands once more, the vampire-fey flung a charm his way, meant to weaken him. But Sinead's magic still coursed within the vampire, proving far too strong. Perhaps she was a halfling, as Fionn said, but half of her blood stemmed from a goddess of the Aesir.

As a second resort Fionn attempted to run, but Eric swung too quickly, cleaving the sorcerer's leg at the knee. Fionn fell with a wail. "You will release the spell upon Viggo, and I will grant you a swift death," demanded Eric. "Otherwise, I promise you will suffer."

Fionn, his face a mask of agony, shook his head to the contrary. "I cannot," he promised Eric. "Viggo will die, and nothing can stop it."

A growl emitted from deep in Eric's chest, and with the tip of his sword he turned his enemies eyes to his. Eric feared Fionn spoke the truth, for in his eyes he read a creature certain his life to be forsaken, nothing he could do to save himself.

"Where is Viggo," Eric demanded of one of the underlings.

"He is sick in bed, in his home."

"Drive us there." Eric gripped Fionn by the scruff of his collar, dragging him behind. Stripped of his magic, the vampire had been reduced to simply another thing that could bleed.

OIOIOIO

Viggo's house already appeared to be in mourning, several courtiers hanging about the halls with long faces, hoping for a miracle. No one wanted to see the throne go to Fröde and his cohort, Fionn.

And so it was a relief of sorts, to see his maker Eric approaching, dragging what seemed to be the near-corpse of Fionn behind him.

Supine in his large bed, Viggo could barely manage the energy to turn his head to his maker. "Ah, Eric. You've returned with your lady?" he sighed, eyes fluttering closed once more.

"Not yet. Though I have brought you the traitor in your midst. I fear your second Fröde and this witch schemed to bring you ill."

A grim smile tugged at the corners of Viggo's mouth. "I fear they have succeeded."

Eric stooped down to Fionn, a hand about his throat. "Make this right," he demanded, "Or I'll do worse than take your foot."

A harsh laugh escaped Fionn. "Take the other if you like. As I said, Northman, your precious child shall die. The runes have been cast."

Sinead approached the sickly king, perching lightly beside him. A pale hand went to cup his cheek, and she could feel the spell that was upon him. A dark and evil thing, clamped deeply into the vampire, eating him slowly.

"What a sweet smell you have," sighed Viggo, turning towards her wrist. He had no energy to bite her, but pressed lips to her wrist weakly, dreaming of the way she would taste.

"It is a wasting spell of the darkest sort," she affirmed sadly, stroking the King's hair as one would sooth a child. "Loki himself would envy such an enchantment."

"Is there truly nothing that can be done?"

Sinead raised a regretful gaze to her golden vampire. "I could try." But in her tone, he could read she held not much hope.

Once more, Sinead stroked Viggo's face, winning a baleful sigh. "I know I'm dying," said the vampire. And with what seemed the last of his strength, he held out a hand to Eric. "Come here, my maker. I will not allow there to be bad blood between us. I never should have trusted Fröde, I knew him weak, and now I pay the price."

Eric clasped Viggo's hand in his, and his child forced open his eyes to gaze upon his maker's grave countenance one more time. "When I have passed, the crown shall be yours, Eric. This is my decree, I should trust no other with it."

Some of the hopeful courtiers who had hoped to pounce upon power in Viggo's passing sputtered, earning them a snarl. "Do you hear me, you scavengers?" demanded the king. "Eric shall be King when I die. He is my heir, I declare it now, with all of you witnesses!"

"Save your strength, my child. No crowns will be passing hands. You're going to live," Eric tried to assure Viggo.

"You're usually a better liar," sighed Viggo, settling back into his pillow. "Now go, find that feisty girl you've fought so hard for. I hope there will be many more happy years for you, Eric. Go on, go." Eric clasped Viggo's hand, and between men he knew there could be no more to be said.

Outside the room, Eric nodded to Fionn. "Shall I keep him alive for you, or has he outlived his usefulness?"

Sinead paid the vampire-sorcerer a look devoid of mercy. "I think it would be dangerous to keep him around much longer. Who knows what trouble he could bring upon us in your absence? I know you must go now."

With a heavy sigh, Eric lifted a hand to stroke Sinead's cheek. "I love her, Sinead. Sookie is…the moon that lights my darkest nights."

Sinead nodded, leaning into his touch. "I did not expect anything to change," she confessed, even if perhaps within a hidden corner of her heart, she'd hoped Eric would chose her once more.

But she'd squandered centuries, watching from afar, too afraid of the creature he'd become to approach him. What opportunities had she missed, letting him go through life without knowledge of her? So many regrets, all too late.

"I am grateful to you. I am in your debt."

Sinead shook her head to the contrary, thinking of the favor he'd bestowed upon her earlier. He'd warmed her heart with the fire of their remembered love, and she cherished that, even as she knew she could not keep him.

"You've paid me in full, Viking. Now, see to the snake Fionn and your child, so that you may be on your way. I will do my best for Viggo."

And though Eric watched Sinead's curvaceous form go with a heavy and wistful heart, still he burned to hold Sookie in his arms, and knew she to be the star he guided his vessel by. Soon, they would be together again. He would settle for nothing less.