AN: Let me know what you think, and as ever, ENJOY!

Chapter 38

Six Months Later

Maria trusted no one.

She surrounded herself with people she could count on to some regard, but she didn't trust anyone because she couldn't afford to. After barely surviving one uprising, she wasn't keen on experiencing another, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. After more or less firing an obscene amount of politicians who she knew were embezzling or more corrupted than she could even fathom, and leveling a ridiculous tax on the wealthiest aristocrats (whom she'd found out hadn't paid taxes in decades) Maria's list of enemies had grown to a staggering degree.

But she didn't care. They were steps that had to be taken.

Her personal staff was descended from the people who'd served her and her family in her youth, her security team had been personally selected, and her political and financial advisors were some of the smartest men and women to graduate from a number of colleges within the country. Every piece of her clothing was made in Russia, every piece of furniture was Russian made, and nearly all of the food and alcohol that was served in the palace was the same. Slowly but surely, she was rebuilding what she could with numerous contracts.

A ten-year plan had been laid out which included the building or restoration of numerous factories, some of which were already leased. Because Russia was a producer of steel, things like machine parts and vehicles were cheaper to produce. Given the incentive, Maria had signed deals with two major car companies. Tens of thousands of jobs would arise.

The train system was getting an upgrade in the distant towns and villages where they were in desperate need. Agriculture was getting a reboot as well, as were other avenues of clean energy. Maria had even given rebates to some of the poorest regions to help stimulate growth, rebates that would grow with time, but she needed more. She was still only crawling toward her goal. She needed to leap.

With a sigh, Maria leaned over and pressed a button on her phone. A moment later, a middle-aged woman in a smart outfit entered the office with a pad and paper in hand.

"Yes, your Majesty?" She said respectfully in Russian. It'd been a long while since Maria had spoken English.

"Call Ivan and tell him I need to set up a meeting with the CEOs of New Blood," her secretary scribbled down the information, "Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, and Eric Northman."

When she'd finished writing, she curtsied and left the room, closing the door once more when she had.

Maria slumped in her seat and stared at the cherry wood door her secretary Minerva had scampered through. There was no avoiding it. Maria needed New Blood to build a factory (at least one) in Russia and in order to do it, she was going to have to speak to the vampires from a lifetime ago.

Shreveport, Louisiana

2:35 PM

He knew he was dreaming, but that didn't stop him from indulging in it.

Eric walked through the halls, through the Grand Peterhof Palace. He'd visited it during his trip to Saint Petersburg and knew some of the layout, so he recognized much of his surroundings.

His feet guided him, took him somewhere else in the palace –somewhere he hadn't been before. They took him to a large set of double doors, wooden and surrounded by ornate molding. He knew without knowing that it was where he belonged. Eric opened the doors with a wide flourish, exposing the interior to him in one swift motion.

The gilded walls and garish adornments drifted to the background of his mind, pushed away in favor of the woman standing in the center of the room with her back to him. There was no detail to her, just an image of a long robe splayed out across the tiled floor and her dark hair swept over her shoulder.

Maria turned. She looked at him coyly over her other shoulder and slowly shifted her body. The robe twisted at the knee, keeping the sea of fabric around her feet, but she faced him regardless. She was bathed in a deep burgundy dressing gown that was thick enough to cope with the cold weather. It was tied around her waist, giving her the only true shape the fabric could allow. Maria's long, black hair was draped over the front of her chest where it fell to her hips in soft waves.

But it was those eyes, those fiery green eyes that could pierce any darkness that he couldn't look away from.

He approached her, closing the distance between them within seconds. Eric immediately wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. Maria reciprocated. She clung at him while he held her so tightly she might break. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gripping it firmly and yanked. Maria cried out a pleasure-filled sound as her head jerked back. He didn't hesitate to dive for her throat, but he didn't bite.

Eric missed Maria. Most days, he could ignore the feeling. He could busy himself with work and the sights and sounds of the world around him, but she was never far from his thoughts. He suspected it was because he was stupid enough to love her.

The feelings were, as far as he was concerned, one-sided. He knew she loved him at some point, but it faded. On some level, perhaps he understood, but that didn't mean he liked it. He hated it, in fact, because his feelings hadn't. He was still consumed with them to the point that he still dreamt about the monarch. Regardless of how cold he was on the outside, he still loved the thrope.

Eric could feel her pulse beneath his lips, feel the heat of her skin and even taste it. The monster inside him begged to bite down, to feed, but he didn't let it –not yet, at least.

She weighed nothing in his arms as he lifted her into the air. The next second, without even having to walk, they were lying on a bed. His hands tore the robe away from her body and she did the same with his clothing. They were a flurry of movement, scrambling gracelessly to get what they wanted, and just as suddenly, he was inside her.

The sounds that erupted from Maria's mouth were all sounds he'd heard before, but somehow felt new. He moved against her, driving into her with a level of desperation that he both hated and couldn't help. He was aware he was dreaming and afraid it would end at any second.

But in his dream, Eric could do what he wanted, he could say what he wanted, and he could make her do the same.

"I need you," She whimpered as she struggled to hold him close. "Eric,"

His name was a whisper filled with adoration and love, two things he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard.

"Say it," He said as he continued to move.

There was no hesitation because, in his mind, the answer would always be immediate.

"I love you," She said to him. "I love you so much."

In his mind… it was the truth.

Eric continued to make her gasp and moan, to squirm and shift beneath him. She begged for more, told him everything he wanted to hear, and fulfilled his every desire.

It went that way for hours until, eventually, Eric felt the sun set and the moon rise. He awoke in his coffin in Fangtasia, once more gripped by that angry loneliness that had accompanied him ever since he left Montreal. He didn't know exactly what he expected, but her more or less refusing to believe what he'd done for her and refusing to even touch him to confirm it infuriated him.

Eric rose and made his way upstairs to his office. Pam was already awake, which meant he'd slept longer than he meant to, again. It happened whenever Maria made an appearance in his head.

She was still wearing her pajamas, so he hadn't overslept by much, and on the phone. She was smiling wickedly which caused him to arch a brow.

"You betchya," Pam said with her typically smooth voice. "Bye-bye, now." She hung up. Pam gave him her attention, beaming from whatever the conversation had been. She put her hands to her hips and could barely contain her amusement. "We've been summoned."

"By who?" He was less amused because, unlike Pam, he wasn't in on the joke.

"The Empress," Pam practically giggled.

A strange sensation rocketed down Eric's spine, but he kept his expression blank. Maria was "summoning" him and Pam.

"You go." He told her. Eric approached his closet in the corner and began to finger through the suits within. "I have business here."

"Oh, come on, Eric." He could hear her smile. "You know you wanna."

Eric found his favorite pale grey suit and removed it. He glanced to her briefly.

"No,"

She scowled. "Don't be such a bitch." She said bluntly. "So what if she broke your heart, you own the biggest company in the world. You helped save our entire race, and you rake in nearly a billion dollars a year because of it. Now, get off yer ass, and come with me."

He looked back at her over his shoulder and couldn't help but smirk. He loved Pam.

Mikhailovsky Palace, St. Petersburg

Pam arched a brow as she stared at what could only be described as Russia's Buckingham Palace. In truth, that was probably the Kremlin, but aesthetically, Pam reasoned it was the palace they were driving up to.

A black limousine met them when they'd gotten off the plane, not the sort that a teenager would rent for prom, but a proper limo from the old days. It wasn't a Rolls or a Bentley, but Pam would talk to Maria about changing that.

Their driver took them through the black, wrought iron gates that were guarded by soldiers in uniform, and around in a wide circle before it stopped in front of the palace. A footman opened the door for them and guided them inside. Pam hadn't removed her smile since she'd convinced Eric to join her. Hell, it hadn't faded since she got the phone call. The fact that she was in the palace garnering glances and stares from staff and soldiers alike only served to widen it.

Pam chose to dress to the nines. While she knew proper etiquette would require one form of clothing, Pam's history with the new monarch made her want to choose something Maria was more familiar with. It took a fair amount of willpower for her not to wear a pair of tight, black leather pants, a black blazer, and a pair of heels sharp enough to kill someone. Instead, she opted for a nice, classic black dress that fell to her knees, showed off her curves, but nicely straddled the line.

Eric's outfit, as far as Pam was concerned, was a piece of fashion genius on her part. She was particularly proud of what she'd picked out for him. He was stood in a bespoke navy Armani suit with a t-shirt a shade lighter underneath. The outfit showcased just how incredible he could be. The color made his eyes glow blue. He let her highlight his hair a little before their trip, lightening it just enough because it'd somehow lost a bit of its ashen tone over the last couple of years. And the look was rounded out by his necklace, a long platinum chain –thin and delicate- that held an inch-long platinum pendant that was a Viking symbol carved with runes.

He looked amazing, and that was the point.

Pam didn't like what happened to her Maker after Maria left Shreveport. He'd become solemn and quiet, losing that sparkling light that drew the world to him. Their business helped, but she saw the truth. How could she not? And it made her angry. She'd been there when Eric made the ultimate choice, when he killed his fairy because he wanted his thrope. She'd heard his words and nothing happened. Maria still walked away. That wouldn't stand for the protective Progeny.

The pair was led to a room that was as opulent as one would expect for a royal from any country. In the center, not far from a massive fireplace, was a round table large enough for four people to sit. It was empty and where they were told to sit.

The footman spoke, but Pam's Russian was for shit, so she only caught the basics. It was something about how they would be joined in a little while. Eric said nothing, but nodded. The footman left shortly after.

Alone in the room, Pam's gaze drifted. It was extravagant to be sure, no different than whatever would come up if someone Googled "palace rooms". Hell, there was even a chandelier. And it was all old, probably as old as the building itself.

Roughly five or more minutes after the footman left, the doors opened again, but it wasn't Maria who entered. It was a team of people who promptly began to set the table. It happened in an instant. Suddenly there was a crisp white tablecloth, an entire tea set, and a teapot. Before either Pam or Eric could speak a word, a young man lifted the white teapot and poured their drinks. The blood shined in stark contrast to the pale porcelain, and it was human, not the shit they sold. When he'd finished, he set it aside, bowed to the pair, and left with the others.

"Well," Pam lifted her teacup and felt the warmth of it. "Can't say they don't cater."

Eric didn't smile or bother drinking his blood, but Pam did. It was delicious and just the right temperature. When she set her cup back down, Pam noticed that Eric hadn't moved a muscle. He sat as still as a statue, staring off into the distance without a care of concern as to what was happening around them. But there was something else, something deeper that Pam could see, and it bothered her.

"Eric,"

His gaze drifted to her, but again, he was silent.

Pam opened her mouth to speak again, but wasn't given the chance. When the doors opened a second time, it was finally their hostess.

Maria glided past the gentlemen in uniforms holding the doors open for her wearing something the English royal family would approve of. It was a bit plain for Pam's taste, nothing more than a pale green dress that looked like something Kate Middleton would wear, but it matched their surroundings. Hair down and makeup simple, Maria did her best to keep her expression blank as she approached them.

Pam and Eric shared a glance before they stood to greet her. Tension crept in as they stood there staring at one another. Someone needed to speak, to break the growing unease, but it didn't seem as though Eric or Maria could manage. Instead, they were locked in a staring contest, as though they were waiting to see who would break first.

Pam spoke, "So, what's the deal, 'cause I'm not curtsying."

A grin twitched at the corner of Maria's lips as she looked at the blonde and Pam heard her snort a small laugh. Pam smiled.

"I think I've missed you." She said.

"Naturally." Pam replied.

Maria's eye drifted to Eric. "Northman,"

He remained silent, but gave her a small nod that would have been unnoticeable if you'd blinked.

"We should sit." Maria motioned to the table. The pair sat and Maria did too in the open chair. "I'm sure you know why I asked to see you."

"You want us to build a New Blood factory here." Eric said. Pam hid her surprise. It was the first time he'd spoken since they got on the plane hours ago. Maria nodded. "No,"

If she was capable of hiding her surprise, Maria hadn't managed. She stared at him in shock, which Pam felt as well. There was no hesitation, just blatant refusal.

"What?"

"No," He repeated just as casually as before.

Another bought of silence. Pam's eyes danced between the two. Eric never showed a sign of life. He only stared at Maria who was unable to hide her growing anger. Pam could see her eyes darken and her jaw tighten. She even clenched her white-gloved hands.

"Why?" she managed to force out the word.

"Because I don't want to." He said plainly. "We already have three factories around the world. We don't need another."

"Bullshit," she snapped.

Eric arched a brow. "That's not very ladylike."

Maria's glare deepened and Pam knew she was on the verge of erupting. She'd seen that look in the thrope before. They'd spent years together so the blonde was well-aware of how she looked when she was about to lose her temper.

"Give me one good reason why you won't build a factory here." She said.

"I don't need a reason. It's my company."

Pam fought the urge to correct him. Instead, she was content to sit back and sip on her blood. She missed drama and there was none better at the moment.

"Then why did you come here?" She snapped. "You knew what I needed, what I was going to ask, so why even bother?"

Eric remained silent. He looked at her and said nothing. Instead, he crossed his legs, rested his hands in his lap, and stared.

Maria's ire grew, which any logical person would expect to happen.

Minutes ticked by. It's hard to explain how long a single minute could feel when a situation is ungodly tense, but even harder when it's closer to five that passed. The air had become oppressive and every second felt like it took hours to pass. And all the while, they stared at each other.

Eventually, Maria showed signs of life. She rolled her head from side to side. She let her eyes drift shut and jerked it hard once to the left. A loud pop echoed in the room and she let out a sigh of relief before opening her eyes again, and leveling her stare on Eric.

"I'm not going to play your games." She told him in a voice much calmer than Pam thought she was capable of. "I am trying to make a better life for nearly 150 million people. If you want to waste someone's time, go elsewhere." Maria stood and the double doors that led to the room opened in anticipation. "You're welcomed to stay as long as you'd like. I can have a room made up for the two of you if needed. Enjoy your visit."

And with that, she stepped around the table and left the room. The doors closed promptly afterward.

Pam's head rolled toward Eric. She was annoyed, which he knew he must have been able to see.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

He didn't reply. Pam sighed, shaking her head at him and his childish behavior. In truth, perhaps she should have just been grateful they hadn't gotten into a fight.

Maria was furious. She was actually vibrating with anger when she left the parlor. In truth, she wanted to be surprised by his glib attitude, but she wasn't. Eric had been like that more times than she could count, but she'd hoped that because of the seriousness of the situation, he'd act like an adult. Apparently not.

She entered her bedroom and dismissed her lady's in waiting. Maria wanted to be alone at the moment.

Standing in front of the vanity, she removed her jewelry and set them in a small decorative box. As she placed the last piece into it, a door in the far corner of her bedroom opened. Unless opened, it looked like another patch of wall. It was a hidden door, one that led to passages the royal families throughout history would use to either escape situations, or to sneak in mistresses and the like.

Through her mirror, Maria saw a man in uniform was the intruder. She knew who he was. Pasha Trova was one of her personal security guards, one of the men she'd hired specifically to keep her safe, and not one of the military guards who adorned the building.

He was a tall young man of roughly thirty years old. He was attractive with dark hair, dark eyes, and a square jaw. His skin was tanner than hers, and he was filled with rolling muscles hidden beneath his grey uniform.

He closed the secret door behind him and approached her with an intense stare. He never seemed to blink. In fact, he stared at her with such deep concentration that it would make a weaker person crumble.

The closer he came, the larger he was. Pasha stood over six-feet tall, probably the same height as Eric Northman, which was not insubstantial. Within a minute or more, she was dwarfed by his presence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him in a cold tone.

Nothing. He gave no verbal response, but he did respond.

Without warning, Pasha acted. He grabbed Maria by her hair and shoved her into the vanity. She was forced to catch herself against it just before his thick, burly body was pressed against her.

He shoved her dress up, tore her panties from her, and with the same brisk actions, he undid his trousers. A millisecond later, he shoved himself inside her. Maria cried out, but it had nothing to do with pain. It was a pleasurable sound and one that filled the air. Maria clutched at the wooden frame while he thrust into her.

Her body vibrated for the first few thrusts before she shoved him off of her. Maria spun, grabbed him by his uniform and pushed him back until he stumbled onto her bed. She was on him in an instant and proceeded to ride him with power fueled by her rage. Pasha's massive hands held her tightly while he met her in stride.

Angry sex was sometimes the most cathartic.

It was near midnight by the time Maria and Pasha had finally stopped. They lay together in bed, naked and spent. Maria was lying on her back settling her breath while Pasha began to find his clothes.

For a few months now, Maria had been carrying on a relationship with her guard. They weren't dating. In fact, they were far from it. What they had was strictly sex, nothing more. Maria found that she sometimes craved the contact. She needed it. Perhaps it was only human.

She sat up and watched as Pasha got dressed. He was broad and nothing but muscle. Eric Northman was lean, but Pasha was built like he could tear down a hundred-year-old oak tree with his bare hands. Maybe he could.

When he finished getting dressed, he turned to her, bowed respectfully and flashed a small grin before he disappeared back through the secret door.

Alone once more, Maria's mind was given a chance to wander. Pam and Eric were staying in the palace. She'd been told by her people that the guests would be remaining, so she knew they were there. As a result, she felt as though she could feel him in the building. It was possible he wasn't even on the grounds, but Maria could swear that she felt Northman somewhere nearby.

Maria thought back to when she walked into the parlor and saw the two sitting at the small table. Pam looked beautiful, classic with just the right amount of sass. It was her milieu, what she was known for, so of course she drew Maria's eye. Eric, on the other hand, looked incredible and Maria knew the blonde had something to do with it.

When Eric rose to his full height, towering over her like the statuesque Viking that he was, Maria felt her heartbeat quicken just a bit. His chiseled features, his sharp jaw and narrow nose, and his imposing nature were things she always admired. Even when she first met him and hated him, she could respect the overall appearance of him.

Maria thought back even further to the last time she spent a moment with him that wasn't happy, but helped her keep from fawning over him. It helped remind her of her place in his mind. She remembered how he knelt down in front of Bill with a look of complete acquiescence. He was completely resigned to dying for Sookie –the once-proud Viking handing over his life for some fairy snatch. And then he had the gall to be angry at her and Pam for intervening. It was genuine and intense.

It was in that moment that Maria knew whatever they had was over. The Eric Northman that she'd spent little more than a year with wouldn't have rolled over. The Eric Northman that she cradled in her lap as he mourned his Maker, who rescued her from her greatest fear, and who she spent months bonding with wasn't the man she saw that day.

Maria had fallen in love with him during that time, a feeling that genuinely grew after the witch's curse, and she thought he at least cared about her. Maria didn't truly think Eric was capable of love. Whatever he'd shown her she considered more like possession, or possibly obsession, but then came Moon Goddess. That moment showed her that Eric Northman was indeed capable of love, and it was aimed toward the fairy. That meant whatever he felt for her was different, and disproportionate to her feelings for him.

It hurt. It hurt a lot because Maria hadn't felt anything for anyone in so long that she was amazed her heart worked at all. As ridiculous as it might sound to utter out loud, Eric had managed to somehow breathe life into it, make it beat again in some romantic way. Again, she knew it was stupid, but the truth.

What annoyed her so much was that those feelings hadn't faded. She thought they had through the years, it was part of the reason she hadn't reached out to him, but then she saw him standing in her parlor.

Nope. They were still there.