Dead and Damned
Chapter One: The Turning
Disclaimer: I don't own the True Blood universe… I hope you enjoy my story and my Alva. I'd love to hear your thoughts. So please review :)
Warning: Some chapters may be disturbing. But you are dealing with vampires who are 1,000 years in the past. They're not going to be fluffy bunnies, they will only show love for a select few. Is that not how they work in the show? Vampires aren't the most compassionate lot.
Sorry for the cruelty you will see none the less. But if they weren't blood thirsty it would be OOC. Again. They are vampires people. However, I promise Alva is not going to be heartless. She will love her family and later Godric. But she isn't a fluffy bunny, and neither is Godric.
My long blond hair was in braids. My eyes — one a light brown and the other a sky blue — were hard, and my jaw locked. I stood with my back straight, head held high. I wrapped my fur cloak tighter around me as a harsh wind whipped around us all. My grandmother passed away two nights ago. My grandfather, the king before my Father, already passed away. My family and our village were at her funeral. Everyone was finishing putting all of the gifts into the boat. There were fruits, drinks, jewelry, some of her belongings, wooden carvings, and many other offerings in the ship already. The amount and value of the goods were dependent upon the social group to which the deceased belonged.
Knowing that she went in her sleep and it was painless should make me feel better. Knowing that she is enjoying her time reunited with Grandfather in Valhalla should make it better also. However, I could only drown in loss and fury. Grandmother was a wonderful, strong, loving, intelligent, amusing woman, and I hate that she is gone. I haven't wept for her yet, and I didn't want to. I loathe crying, so I held onto my fury instead. I felt a hand wrap around my waist, and it jerked me from my thoughts. I looked over to see my younger brother looking at me with an expression on his face that was a mixture of sadness and anger. I know Eric was just as angry about her passing as I was. We were both close to her.
"Om jag hör en mer röst säga hur underbart en tid hon måste ha i Valhalla, kommer jag att döda dem." (If I hear one more voice say how wonderful a time she must be having in Valhalla, I will kill them.) A 14 winters old Eric told me angrily. His shoulder-length blond hair was loose around his face, sky blue eyes were hard, and brows furrowed.
"Jag kommer att hjälpa dig." (I will help you.) I replied, my tone identical to his.
I took a sharp, frustrated intake of breath, and Eric tightened his hold on my waist. I saw the last of the villagers finishing with the gifts. Father then walked to the boat and pushed it into the water with the help of some other men. After it was in the water, he walked over to Mother, Eric, and me. Finally, this fucking thing is almost over.
A handful of men shot arrows that were on fire at Grandmother's boat. As it went up in flames, the whispers that had been going around seized completely. Minutes passed in absolute silence. As much as I hated to admit it in my current mood, it was a beautiful sight. The flames leaped high into the night air. The whole boat was on fire now; the fire danced and swayed in the breeze.
Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get away; I needed to getaway. I turned around sharply and stormed into the woods behind us. My hands that were still gripping my cloak were balled into tight fists.
"Alva," I heard my Mother's voice hiss at me in disapproval, "Få tillbaka här just detta ögonblick." (Get back here right this instant.)
I ignored her and continued to storm angrily into the woods. My chest felt like somebody was strangling it. I couldn't be there anymore. I would go back, of course, but I needed to be by myself for just a few minutes. Against my will, I felt my eyes start to burn with tears. My legs felt too weak to hold me up anymore, and I collapsed onto my knees in the dirt. I put my fists against my traitorous eyes and my head on the ground.
Damn it! I fucking hate everything about this!
I hate her death. The stupid funeral was torture. Mother, Father, Eric, and I are the last of our family now. How was that possible? I also hated that at sunrise, Father and Eric are going away on a hunting trip for Odin knows how long. I felt nothing but loss, fury, and hatred. I don't know how long I stayed there in that position, but the next thing I knew, Eric's voice was cutting through my dark thoughts.
"Alva! Alva!" Eric called to me, and I got to my feet, turning in the direction of his voice. "Mor och far berättade för mig att komma och hämta dig. Det är dags att gå hem syster." (Mother and Father told me to come to get you. It is time to go home, sister.)
As I started toward Eric, I heard another voice. The voice of a frightened child calling for help in the opposite direction. One of the children of the village must have wandered off. I swore under my breath and headed for it. I am not sure how much help I will be if the little boy is attacked by something. I don't have any weapons with me, but I have to try my best.
My heart beating so hard I could hear it. I hope I am not too late. I hope I can help. I burst into a clearing and came to a complete stop, horrified. The sight I saw was not the one I expected to see. Instead of a frightened child in need of help, I saw a monster. He was in the middle of the clearing with jaw-length unruly oak brown hair. There was a wicked open-mouthed smile on his bloody face. I could see two teeth that were longer than normal; also very pointed. He was wearing a tunic and tight trousers. He wore no cloak, but he didn't seem cold. How was that possible? At his feet was the body of a mangled woman. Her neck was ripped open, and blood was pooling around her. I stumbled back in fear.
What kind of demon was this horrific little boy? He appeared to be no older than ten winters, but I had a feeling, looking into his grass-green eyes full of malice and glee, that he was much older. In the blink of an eye, he went from 10 feet away to less than two inches from me. I jumped, startled, and he let out a misleadingly innocent laugh. I took a few quick steps back, and in the next instant, I was flying through the air. My back slammed into a tree, and the breath was knocked out of me. My whole body hurt so badly, black dots danced in my vision, and my head spun. I let out a breathless whimper of pain, and the monster in the shape of a boy laughed.
I was equally as angry as I was frightened. I have never seen anyone as fast and strong as this demon child. I wish I had my sword so I could run him through. Before I could take another breath, he crouched with legs on either side of my thighs. One hand was above my head on the tree. His wicked little face was a breath away.
"Komma bort." (Get away.) It was all I could manage to say in my pain. I tried to make my voice as fierce and intimidating as possible, but the look on his face said it didn't work.
"Eller om du kommer att göra vad exakt?" (Or you will do what exactly?) He replied with an arrogant quirk of his lips.
I locked eyes with him, ignored the pain my body was in, and focused my attention on the beast. I licked my teeth in frustration. There was no way I was getting out of this situation until he let me; that much was clear.
Eric! He was in the woods looking for me! A fresh wave of fear hit me along with fierce protectiveness. What if he hurt him next?! What if he killed him like he did that woman? I hoped with all my might that he focused on me and left my little brother alone. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him.
The look in the boy's eyes changed, and suddenly my mind went nearly blank.
"Berätta vad du heter." (Tell me what you are called.) His voice changed as well.
I found myself answering him before I could stop myself.
"Alvam" I said, voice monotone.
"Lyssna noga Alva," (Listen closely Alva,) His tone and the look in his eyes changed back. I cursed myself for answering his question. What I am called is none of his business. "Du är nu mitt. Vi kommer att spendera varje kväll tillsammans för resten av alltid." (You are now mine. We will spend every night together for the rest of always.)
His words repulsed me. I leaned to the left out of reflex to put distance between us, big mistake. Agony shot up my spine. My head started spinning again. Then I felt a sharp sensation stab my neck. The last thing I thought before blacking out was, please don't hurt Eric.
I woke up on the ground feeling confused, angry and starving. My hands curled in claws, and I dug myself out instinctively. When I was out of the earth, I looked around, and my confusion grew. I could see everything in far more detail than I could previously. I could also hear more than I should be able to. I could listen to all the insects around me, the sound of an animal drinking water somewhere behind me, and the fast beating sound of a heart. It was the heartbeat that I focused on. I could hear the blood flowing like a waterfall. To my horror, I felt sharp foreign teeth come down with a snit. They cut my tongue and lip. I could taste my blood. I straightened from my crouch and realized in that instant what must have happened. I felt idiotic for not realizing it sooner.
That horrible little beast turned me into whatever he was! How did he do that? Hatred joined the other emotions swirling inside me. A snarl ripped past my sneering lips. I heard the sound of running and turned my head to the left. He came to a stop three feet from me. I looked down at him harshly. In his hands, he was holding an unconscious man, which he threw at my feet. My nostrils flared in my temper, and the most amazingly delicious smell filled my head. It caused every other thought to vanish.
I knelt, and my eyes were locked on the unknown man's throat; I could see the steady beating there. My hunger, along with the smell, made my head go fuzzy. Before I knew what I was doing, I struck. I gulped down mouthful after mouthful of the most delicious liquid. It was better than honey, but all too soon, the man ran dry. I pulled away, still hungry. The sound of delighted laughter made my head jerk up sharply, blood running down my chin. The boy stood there laughing, and it broke me free from my fuzzy thoughts. In the next instant, I was 7 feet further away. I was disgusted at my actions, at the boy, at what he made me. I snarled at him, and he laughed harder.
"Vi kommer att ha så mycket roligt min skatt." (We are going to have so much fun my treasure) He laughed, grass-colored eyes filled with wickedness.
I couldn't find a way to Translate English to Old Norse, so I had to settle for Swedish. If there are any errors in my translation, I am sorry. I got the translation off of Google Translate. It's the best I can do.