Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and most of them are heavily inspired by mythology.
"Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in."
Winston Churchill
'Who are you?'
Panting, Loki stares across the half-decimated clearing at the vampire, body aching with bruising from their vigorous fight. It had been stupid, she realizes in hindsight, for her to come to Midgard on a whim, but she'd honestly not expected to run afoul of the undead. Nonetheless she had held her own – but the man was fast, and the princess couldn't help but be privately relieved that he'd drawn to a halt.
But questions weren't what she'd expected.
'Who wants to know?' The language rolls stiffly from her tongue despite the prideful tone – she's never had much cause to speak in the language of mortals before. The vampire's shoulders buck up in what she can only assume is amusement, and the movement sends the muscles of his bare, ice-white torso rippling. She feels her cheeks flood with heat at the sight.
'I am called Godric,' he announces without inflection, running a hand through his filthy black hair, 'you fight well.'
Her chin twitches up proudly. 'I have been trained by the best.'
'Oh?' Godric scoffs a mite scornfully. 'I'll believe you, though millions wouldn't, Princess.'
It'll be months before he learns exactly how accurate the title is for her.
There's blood in her mouth.
Loki blinks, staring dazedly up at the ceiling. Her ears are ringing faintly, but the dull sensation of disorientation is fading quickly – even in human form she heals faster than average, but explosions throw most creatures off balance.
The Æsir mage frowns suddenly. She's aware enough to tell that her magic prevented any cuts, and she hadn't been close enough to the bomber to have gotten splattered (Loki grimaces at the thought).
But there's blood in her mouth.
Brows furrowed, Loki moves to sit up, struggling against the weight pinning her legs to the floor. But when what she'd assumed to be debris grunts in discontent at the movement, she freezes.
Eric is sprawled over her, face buried in her stomach and groaning. Clearly, he'd jumped her before the bomb went off, and taken a bunch of silver to the back in the process.
'Eric,' her words are barely a whisper, but he hears her and looks up nonetheless, '...are you okay?'
'I...' A slow, devious smile spreads over his mouth, and Loki's blood runs cold. 'I am very well.'
It clicks in her mind as she takes in his almost smug expression, the half healed wound on the Viking's shoulder, the blood in her mouth.
'Well, fuck.'
Eric grins through his fangs.
xXx
From Godric's side, Eric looks around the smoking carcass of what was once his maker's home without expression. The Fellowship of the Sun are obviously fanatical, but a suicide bomber had been unprecedented, and Area 9 have suffered for overlooking the possibility.
Although - Eric's eyes flick to the dark-haired woman helping various stunned humans off the ground – he seems to have benefitted unexpectedly from the attack.
It was only earlier in the evening that he had staked his claim to her, and Eric has always planned for her to take his blood as some point to attain some control in their odd relationship. Judging from the dismay that had coursed through her, though, Victoria is not pleased at all with the development, and she'd stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment before shoving him away wordlessly and moving to check on the other survivors – it's just as well it'd happened on accident, he supposes.
Victoria's emotions are curious; from the second his blood had hit the back of her throat Eric had become acutely aware of her, but the strength of her feelings are a bit of a shock. When he had made a blood bond with Victoria's V-dealing friend before coming to Dallas (1), the man's emotions had been consciously separate from Eric's own – with Victoria herself it feels as though her emotions are so strong they are leaking into him.
There is also the matter of Godric to consider, Eric thinks as he watches Victoria glance at the still form of his maker. Whenever she looks his way there is a sharp spike in fondness, of familiarity. The Viking, having been watching their interactions closely all night, thinks Ms Stackhouse may have been right about them knowing one another.
But the thought only prompts more questions. Why had the woman not mentioned knowing the Sheriff she'd been looking for? Why had Godric himself not said anything on the matter? It seems the more he learns of Victoria, the further her mystery deepens.
Eric is pulled from his musings when Godric calls the room to attention.
'They may come back.' He announces stonily. 'Go to the Hotel Camilla, they've been alerted, security is in place.'
He looks on as his maker weaves through the wreckage without further comment, his shoulders tense, and Eric is overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding worry for the older vampire that threatens to choke him with it strength.
It's only when he chances a glance at Victoria and sees her watching Godric with furrowed brows and searching eyes that he realises the emotion is not his own. He appears before her in a flash, and she blinks her impossibly green eyes up at him. The surge of lust at his proximity makes him smirk, but Victoria balks away from the expression. Strong emotions whirl through the bond, a confused muddle, and Eric watches with no small interest as she pushes against the attraction that is so prevalent after having his blood, until finally the emotion is dim in comparison to her annoyance.
'I don't like this.' She informs him imperiously, and Eric can't help but admire her tenacity, even if it means she is depriving them both.
'I'm sure you'll get used to it.' He jerks his head in the direction of the exit. 'Come.'
Victoria marches past him, alight in indignation and nagging arousal.
Oh, Eric thinks, this will be fun.
xXx
Alone in her hotel room, Loki slips into the free-standing bath-tub of her en-suite with a long sigh and lets her head fill with quiet.
Vampire blood creates bonds. It creates life. It makes humans strong and heightens their senses. It makes the two-natured crazy.
Loki has never had vampire blood before, despite being rather curious of its effect on an Æsir. The magic that flows through the veins of a vampire and her own power are very different, and the risks were simply too great for her to experiment with combining the two. When it'd hit her that she'd accidently consumed Eric's she had half expected to combust and take half of the state with her.
She hadn't, and it doesn't look like she will, but Loki feels undeniably on edge. Her magic is circulating her being at double time, hyperactive and desperate to be used. Everything is suddenly in sharp-focus, like she's seeing with Æsir-perfect vision despite her human form. Perhaps most alarming is the inexplicably sensual feeling that sparks through her skin at every sensation: the feel of hot water lapping at her neck, the brush of one leg against another, the odd tickling of all her erogenous zones as they beg to be touched.
Loki hasn't been so turned on in centuries.
And even though she's livid that she'd swallowed Eric's blood, deeply sad that the nest had been destroyed, insanely worried about Godric and the look on his face (one of despondent, all-consuming helplessness), the feeling conquers all others.
Don't forget, the coherent voice in the corner of her mind nags her, there's important stuff going on. There's a maenad in Bon Temps, you're bonded to a vampire Sheriff, Godric is slipping away...
Despite the reminder, Loki can't help whimper when a cool hand pulls her back against a hard chest, and the man behind her nuzzles her throat.
'Hmm,' the smirk is audible in Eric's voice as he settles her more comfortably between his legs in the tub, 'you just can't get enough, can you?'
She gasps as he sucks tauntingly as the delicate pale skin of her neck, remaining stubbornly silent. The Viking at her back chuckles darkly, a hand ghosting over her right breast to settle over the taught skin of her stomach.
'Admit it,' he urges, voice a whisper dripping in sin, 'you want me.'
'You're too cocky.' She reprimands. The denial in her words is offset by the breathy tone, though, and it only seems to encourage him.
'You want me to ravage you,' Eric's fingers draw teasing circles above her womb, the touch making her ache, 'ruin you,' he pulls her tighter against him, and the evidence of his own excitement is pressed to the small of Loki's back – she groans, 'over and over again until you remember nothing but pleasure.'
'No.' The denial is weak even to her own ears, but a hand fists in her hair, pulling her neck back at an awkward angle so she can stare into ocean-blue eyes.
'You want me to make you mine.' Eric informs her, and the certainty of his words - the impossible tenderness of his expression - breaks her restraint.
'Only if you are mine, too,' she says, surging forward to kiss him. He meets her half-way, just as enthusiastic and passionate as she's always imagined. The hand on her stomach slips lower, and first touch to her centre sending her head spinning and hips grinding back against him. The Viking growls, and Loki nips at his bottom lip in response, but breaks away to draw a ragged breath when a long finger works its way inside her. Eric takes the opportunity to draw a hot path down her throat with his tongue, and her head falls over his shoulder to allow him easier access.
Eric's fangs drop with a click, and when he makes no move to proceed, she brings a coaxing hand up to the back of his neck.
'Do it, Eric.'
He gives a rumble of feral approval, speeds the movement of his hand, and lays a soft kiss to the artery. 'Yes, Loki.'
Oh. Facts click into place in her mind, and the Æsir only has time to feel two pinpricks at her neck before she jolts upright with a gasp.
She is, unsurprisingly, alone, and sitting in a tub of cold water.
Fucking Helheim (2). Loki hops out of the bath, shivering at the cool air and wrapping herself in the thickest, fluffiest towel she can find and drying quickly. It was a testament to how tired her mind had been that she hadn't recognised she was dreaming from the start, but the sex dream about Eric Northman hadn't been coincidental.
Staring at the mirror above the sink, her reflection draws a great sigh. She'd been hoping that this was one side-effect of vampire blood that she could avoid, but it appears that today is not her lucky day.
Loki is self-aware enough to acknowledge her own attraction to the Viking vampire, but years of experience tell her that with the addition of a blood bond that their relationship – and the feelings within it – is going to become muddled. Not to mention that even if Eric decides to never contact her again (which she somehow doubts) he'll inevitably become curious when he still feels her through the bond in 80 years. The Asgardian supposes that the chance of him figuring out her magical capabilities is high, and she doesn't particularly mind the prospect of him finding this out – Eric already knows that she is different.
But the idea of being revealed to be "Loki"? Only the oldest and those at the very top of the vampire totem pole know of the existence of the Æsir, and it is not a secret that is circulated in the community.
She dries her hair with a burst of power, slips into her nightclothes and pads quietly out the bathroom to sprawl on top of the bed with a huff. Loki doesn't consider herself a god. She is powerful, but certainly not omnipotent, and it's very, very rare in this day and age for her to hear a prayer in her name. These justifications would mean little if her true identity were to be brought to light, though, and expectations for her character tend to be rather high (or low, depending on the individual).
Loki allows her eyes to drift shut, feeling the fatigue of the day working over her and giving in to the urge to sleep. She and Sookie had been informed before they were sent off to their rooms that they will be meeting with Nan Flanagan the next night, and that will likely be tiresome. And aggravating, if "The Face of Vampire Affairs" is as much of a raging bitch that Loki suspects she is.
It's gonna be a long night.
xXx
Hours later, Loki is sprawled beside a still-dead Godric, reading Tolstoy, and waiting for him to wake for the night. When she had woken at 5pm, she'd spread her magic around to check on her friends, and been unable to resist peeking into Godric's subconscious mind.
The fact that her old friend dreams of the sunrise scares her more than Loki cares to admit, so the Æsir mage had seen fit to take pre-emptive action, and it had meant calling in a great deal of favours to secure what she wanted.
Now, though, she finally feels in control of the situation and she takes a moment to breathe. When Godric comes awake with a rush of magic so potent it sends goose bumps down her arms, Loki smiles at him gently.
'Good morning.'
He looks up at her with soft eyes, only minutely surprised to see her in his bed, and responds in Latin. 'Hello again, Loki.'
It is odd to hear her true name after so long, but in his voice (and in the language they spoke when they first met) it is a little wondrous. Her expression brightens as she rolls onto her side to face him fully. 'I wanted a moment alone with you,' she confesses, 'I never expected to find you here.'
Godric makes a sound of agreement. 'I could say the same; you go well with my progeny.'
'Ah yes, Eric,' Loki gives a slight wince, 'the vampire I've been accidentally bonded too.' She shakes off her troubled thoughts on the situation. 'Still, he is surprisingly tolerable.'
'Perhaps that is not so unexpected.' Slowly, almost tentatively, the vampire reaches out to stroke his thump gently over the pale column of Loki's neck. 'I have always favoured the beautiful and strong.'
She can't help but close her eyes at the contact, the motion still so familiar after so long it makes her chest ache. 'Such a wonder...' she breathes '...for you to still be here after so many centuries.'
Godric's hand falters. 'A wonder?'
Loki catches his hand in hers before he can pull it back, and she gives him a beaming smile even though her stomach drops at the doubt in his voice. 'Always a wonder to see you, my bright star.'
'So you say.'
'Indeed. You should heed my words, you know.' She informs him with mock-severity. 'I am a "goddess", after all.'
He chuckles – it's a small victory in the face of his deep-rooted turmoil, but a victory nonetheless.
Godric doesn't pry, even though she is certain he is incredibly curious as to how she became thought of as a deity – and a sinister one, at that – and it is both a relief and a shock. A millennium and a half ago, he would have asked even if the delicacy of the situation was clear. But they settle back onto the pillows, shoulders just barely touching, and bask in the peace of one another.
Then Loki takes a steadying breath, and opens her mouth.
'I was banished from Asgard about 500 years after we parted.' She stares determinedly forward even as he twists her stare at her assessingly. 'I did something... and came to this realm for refuge. But they followed, and my infamy came with them.'
'What did you do?' His tone is without inflection – nothing could shock the man who's seen and done the worst things imaginable, she supposes. It allows her to answer almost immediately.
'I killed my brother.'
Godric doesn't even blink. 'Did he deserve it?'
She finally looks at Godric, and she knows her eyes are stony, her mouth twisted up into a horrible mockery of a smile that is probably more bitter than she means it to be.
'I have done... many truly awful things in my life,' she admits, 'and I regret so many – have sought atonement for so many... but I would kill that scum over and over for eternity if I had to without any remorse.'
And because he knows her – knows it isn't like her to exaggerate when it comes to something so serious – Godric merely accepts this with a nod and quirks a brow. 'And... what did he do?'
Loki sighs.
'He destroyed me.'
The Pict vampire sits up, staring down at her with his young face and ancient eyes. 'You seem perfectly whole to me.'
'I am as undamaged as you are content.' She gives a rueful chuckle. 'The lies we tell those closest to us are often the most untrue.'
Godric hums in agreement, and they share a moment of silent contemplation before Loki rolls of the bed, leans down to press a kiss to his cheek and makes to leave him to get ready.
'I will see you at the meeting, Victoria.' He calls after her, and she turns back only to shoot him a wink as she saunters out the door...
...and bumps straight into a firm, cool chest.
The violent, surge of lust that rips through her when she registers just who she's run into leaves her severely unimpressed. 'Hello, Eric.'
'Hello, Victoria.' The Viking smirks down at her, obviously enjoying the insight into her feelings. 'Did you sleep well?'
Eugh. Of course the oskilgetinn (3) knows she'd dreamt of him – of them – almost all day. Rolling her eyes, Loki side-steps him and continues on down the hallway.
'Goodbye, Eric.'
'Tell me: how exactly do you know my maker?'
She halts five paces away from him, shoulders tensing minutely. The Æsir mage had hoped that perhaps her familiarity with Godric had escaped Eric's notice, but it appears not. Loki pivots to face him, studying his intent expression, and decides it would be pointless to attempt to deny his accusation. So she gives her most seductive smile.
'Why, Mr Northman,' she tilts her head coyly, 'a lady never tells.'
Loki resumes her march down the hallway before he can respond, and sincerely hopes that he feels that smug triumph that fills her being at being able to outmanoeuvre him yet again.
xXx
Seeing as the vampires are all tied up in bureaucratic bullshit for what will likely be a few hours, Loki elects to visit Sookie and Jason. The Stackhouse siblings greet her genially, ushering her into Bill's hotel room and gathering in the lounge to talk.
Although she had noticed his presence at Godric's nest last night, Loki hasn't given much thought to Jason's presence in Dallas, and she tells him so. The man rubs the back of his neck and sheepishly explains that he had been a so-called "Soldier of the Sun" until he heard tell of Sookie's imprisonment and dropped everything to help his sister. The Æsir mage doesn't think much of Jason – he's rough all over and as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face – but he's got a good heart, and his devotion to his family is a little bit precious. So:
'As long as you've learnt your lesson about fanatic, vampire-hating cults, I don't hold it against you.' She tells him with a little smirk. The siblings' chuckle in unison and Sookie nudges her brother with a teasing elbow.
'He better have,' the telepath's eyes twinkle as she looks to Loki with wide eyes, 'after all, he and Bill had a man t' man chat last night.'
They share a giggle when Jason flushes pink in embarrassment.
'Talkin' of last night,' his blue eyes darken, and any amusement vanishes from both women – Jason's expression makes it clear exactly which part of the night he's speaking about, 'I heard tell that three vamps died, and a girl lost a leg.'
Sookie looks down sadly, and Loki allows herself a mental pat on the back because the casualties could have been a lot worse. But... 'Do you know which vampires?'
'Bill said their names were Catherine, err- Paul?'
'Paulo.' Loki corrects softly. He'd been the chatty young vampire behind the bar.
'Paulo.' The telepath agrees with a bob of her head. 'And Stan.' Oh. The Æsir mage can't keep from wincing – Jason catches it.
'Did'ya... know him?' He hedges tentatively, but it's Sookie who answers.
'We both did – he weren't subtle about his dislike for humans, though.'
Loki sighs, bringing a hand up to massage her temple in a motion often made during times of high stress. 'Stan was the one who led the Dallas vampires into the church.'
'Oh.' The siblings intone in unison, then: 'So, why exactly are you upset?' Jason pushes.
'Well, if he were still around then the vampire higher-ups would have someone to punish for almost causing a massacre.' Loki purses her lips, glancing almost instinctively in the direction of the door. 'But he isn't, so the blame will most likely go to the Sheriff of the Area.'
'But that's not fair!' Sookie protests immediately, almost jumping to her feet in a fit of pique. 'Godric saved everyone in the Fellowship, all of us. Shouldn't he be rewarded?'
Loki agrees entirely, but no-one has ever accused the vampire chain-of-command of being just. So she offers the blondes a melancholy smile and shrugs one shoulder: 'Politics.'
The Stackhouse's' look infinitely saddened, obviously having the common sense to know that Godric is the last person in the entire debacle who should be named the bad-guy. 'Whattd'ya think they'll do to him, Vick?'
Remembering Sookie's previous brush with vampire law enforcement (that resulted in a 17-year-old step-childe) Loki is quick to reassure her. 'Nothing barbaric. It'll probably just be a slap on the wrist.'
(And Odin, she hopes it's true. Because if Nan Flanagan takes away his duties as Sheriff, it'll be cutting his last tie to the world – the last thing keeping Godric from oblivion. And even if deep, deep down Loki knows that if he truly wants to end his existence he will do so no matter what, she doesn't want to have to face the idea that her old friend, her brightest star, may go where she can't follow.)
She's pulled from her dire musings when Sookie gives a deep sigh of relief at the pacifying words. 'That's good,' the telepath concurs, 'but really they shouldn't do anything to him at all.'
Jason nods in agreement, staring fixedly at his clenched hands. 'Poor little guy...'
Loki breaks down in giggles before she can stop herself, shoulders shaking with the force of her mirth. The Stackhouse's' shoot her concerned looks, but she waves them off.
'"Little guy",' she gasps, 'he's... two-thousand years old!'
And just like that, they join her in their laughter.
xXx
'Do you have any fucking idea of the PR mess you've made?' Are the first words out of Nan Flanagan's mouth the moment the meeting begins. All the humans present flinch minutely. 'And who fucking has to clean that shit up? Me. Not you, me. I should drain every one of you bastards.'
One glance at Godric's downcast expression and the defeated slump of his posture is enough for the hope in Loki's chest to shrivel into nothingness, and she watches on with a straight back and an odd sense of detachment.
Eric seems to be the only one with any willingness to fight back against the acidic words. 'Stan went after the church on his own. None of us knew anything about it.'
'Oh, really?' Nan narrows her eyes at the Viking. 'Because everyone who met Stan in the last 300 years knew he had a kink about slaughtering humans. But you, his nest mates, his sheriff, had no clue.'
'And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?' Isabel demands, accent more pronounced in her anger. Nan scoffs.
'Not my problem.' Steely eyes fix on Godric, pointing the finger of blame. 'Yours.'
'Don't talk to him that way.' Eric spits.
'Don't talk to me that way.' For a long moment, Loki suspects that he will leap over the coffee table and rip out the woman's throat. But a wordless glance from his maker has him settling back reluctantly, and Nan shakes herself. 'Let's get to the point. How did they manage to abduct you?'
From his place between Isabel and Eric, Godric looks impossibly small. 'They would have taken one of us sooner or later. I offered myself.'
'Why?' Nan demands, sounding honestly shocked.
Godric's only answer is a self-deprecating little smile and a quiet "Why not?"
'They wanted you to meet the sun and you were willing?'
'What do you think?'
Oh, Godric. Loki fights the urge to bury her face in her hands and cry like the child she is not. It is one thing to know that her old friend is seeking the true death, but it's quite another to hear the words straight from the horse's mouth. And judging from the stricken, heart-sick look on Eric's face he feels the same. Nan, however, overcomes her surprise to sneer at the Sheriff.
'I think you're out of your mind.' She spits. 'And then I hear about a traitor.'
Isabel's hands clench into fists on her lap, but Godric waves a hand benevolently. 'Irrelevant. Only a rumour. I'll take full responsibility.'
The public face of the A.V.L. snorts. 'You bet you will.'
'You cold bitch.' The Viking accuses – he's favoured with a severely unimpressed look.
'Listen, this is a national vampire disaster and nobody at the top has any sympathy for any of you.' Nan draws a calming breath, glancing briefly at the papers in her lap. 'Sheriff, you fucked up. You're fired.'
No.
'I agree.' Godric says immediately. 'Of course, Isabel should take over. She had no part in my disgrace.'
But Isabel herself is looking at the Pict vampire with wide eyes. 'Godric, fight back.'
Fight back, fight back.
'What are you saying? She's a bureaucrat, you don't have to take shit from her.' It's the first time she's ever heard Eric raise his voice, and any other time she might react – but Loki can barely hear him over the white noise ringing in her ears.
'You wanna lose your area, Viking?'
'You don't have that kind of power.'
'Hey, I'm on TV. Try me.'
'I'm to blame.' Isabel cuts in to keep things from escalating. 'I should have contained Stan the second Godric went missing.'
'Isabel.' The oldest vampire in the room shoots his lieutenant a sympathetic but firm look. 'I remove myself from all positions of authority.'
No no no no.
'Works for me.'
'Ms Flanagan,' Sookie's southern twang cuts through the room. 'Godric rescued me and Vick from a really large rapist who probably would've killed us too.'
'That's nice. Moving on...'
Loki's tenuous hold on her temper snaps, and even a newborn vampire would be able to identify the thick, viscous power that fills the room. The picture frames on the wall shudder, the vampires all freeze, searching for the source of the threat, and it's only when Sookie begins coughing violently does she relent the onslaught of power.
'Ms Flanagan,' the deadly edge to Loki's voice is unmistakable, and it certainly pinpoints her as the source of the magic – most everyone present stares wide-eyed, but her green eyes are locked on vampire before her, 'I advise that you listen to Ms. Stackhouse's testimony – and record it. As is only appropriate for the sake of the A.V.L's equality agenda.'
They hold eye contact for a moment that seems to stretch unreasonably, a clash of wills between two powerful creatures. Only when Nan glances down with a scoff does Loki allow herself a victorious smirk.
'Fine. Go on, Ms. Stackhouse.'
Sookie, who has been attempting to bore a hole in the side of Loki's head with her eyes, clears her throat nervously. 'G-Godric rescued all the humans in that church plus a whole lot of vampires. If you think it's a PR mess now, just imagine what it'd be without him. It could have been a hundred, a million times worse.'
Nan gives a disbelieving humph, but snaps her attention back to Loki. 'And you, Mage; anything to add?' (4)
(In her peripheral vision, she see's Eric give a little start at the title.)
A part of her wants to announce that she has the ear of the very top of the Authority; that as a mage she could rip Nan apart with little more than a thought and the inclination for bloodshed; that Godric is worth 100 members of the A.V.L. on his worst day.
But because she's already revealed far, far too much about herself (and because the glint of wariness in Nan's eye soothes her savage temper) Loki's reply is placid.
'Godric did the right thing in offering himself to the Fellowship.' And oh, it burns her to even voice the lie. 'If he hadn't, they would have taken another vampire by force, and the search for an underling would be disorganised, messy. It would have started with one or two vampires searching – probably going into the church and being staked before they saw it coming. Then eventually someone would notice disappearing nest-mates, so they'd take it to the lieutenants. Isabel would likely take it straight to Godric, but Stan?' Loki shakes her head meaningfully. 'You said yourself that Stan had a kink for killing humans – he'd gather a mob of bloodthirsty idiots, and he'd go straight to the Fellowship, and he'd slaughter every human there before there was even a chance to stop him. Godric did what any good leader would do – what a smart Sheriff would do – and gave himself over to ensure maximum attention and effort was put into finding him.'
'Victoria...' Loki spares Godric a glance at the quiet call. He's looking at her like he's never seen her before, and it makes her smile.
'Really, Ms Flanagan, considering things worked out with a grand total of two human casualties – one a suicide bomber and one the aforementioned "really large rapist" – ' green eyes sparkle as they cut back to the vampire sitting across from her, 'you should be thanking him.'
'You make a pretty argument,' Nan comments, but gives a careless shrug, 'but someone's gotta take the blame for this shit-storm, and Godric has already agreed to take the heat that came from his piss-poor judgement.'
Loki clenches her jaw, and Eric lunges, intent on paying back the insult to his maker. Isabel's hand holding him back is the only thing that stops him.
'Eric, Victoria,' Godric addresses his staunchest defenders firmly, 'it doesn't matter.'
'Tell me about the bombing, please.' Nan commands after the room has taken a moment to cool down. 'Every single detail.'
The Pict vampire does so, and Loki wants to rage against his calm facade. Personally, she doesn't give a damn if he is King of Texas or a no-title underling in the middle of Alaska as long as Godric is content. The problem is that in his current state of mind he will never be satisfied until he's standing before the sunrise, and it's... it's giving up before the fight's begun. And that is everything Loki, a survivor above all else, stands against these days.
But all too soon the meeting is drawing to a close, and Nan sighs heavily as she stands. 'Godric, come to my suite to fill out the forms.'
'Soon. First I have something to say.' He addresses the entire room. 'I'm sorry. I apologize for all the harm I've caused, for all our lost ones, human and vampire. I will make amends, I swear it.'
'Take it easy, it's just a few signatures.' Nan assures, perplexed, and the Æsir mage has to close her eyes because it isn't about the fucking paperwork.
Loki has lived long enough to know a suicide note when she hears it, and apparently so has Eric, because he sounds absolutely wrecked when he speaks.
'No.'
The Asgardian opens her eyes in time to see the pleading look pass across Godric's face. 'Look in my heart.'
'You have to listen to me.'
'There's nothing to say.'
'There is.'
The Pict vampire's expression goes through such a visible cycle of pity and sadness and the most overwhelming affection that Loki can see the moment that he decides to hear his progeny out.
'On the roof.' Godric commands, and then he is gone.
And she follows his departure immediately, ignoring the curious gazes of Sookie and Bill and Isabel and brushing gently past a statue-still Eric: because how could she not?
Loki is unfailingly loyal who have earned it, after all, and even 1500 years can't change that.
(1) In True Blood canon, Eric gives Lafayette his blood to heal him from his injuries – as he didn't get hurt in this fic, let's just assume he found another sneaky way to get his way. I'll elaborate on this in later chapters.
(2) OFC!Loki's equivalent of saying "fucking hell" – Helheim itself is the realm of the underworld, and though it is also called "Hel", in this fic Hel is a person.
(3) A Norse insult that literally translates to "born out of wedlock". Basically, OFC!Loki's calling him a bastard.
(4) The term "mage" will be explained in more detail next chapter.
