I wake up slowly. It was always slowly now, easing up out of dreams and blinking back into consciousness. There was always a moment, more and more now, when I lay bewildered, wondering where I was. Which had been real, the dream or this moment?
I'd dreamed of the fae world, somewhere I had not been in many, many years. It had been so sharp, so clear. Dermot had been there, Niall too, as well as Claude – and to my joy, Claudine, smiling at me, cradling a baby and radiating with life and grace. My family. All long since gone or departed now.
My breathing was harsh and heavy. This is what I'd forgotten in my dream; a heavy, aching, fragile body and weak, wheezy lungs. My pulse pounded beneath my chest, slow, and throbbing, trying to ease my breathing. I needed the oxygen mask beside the bed, but as I reached for it, my arm trembled and fell, too weak, back to my side. I succumbed to the weakness and sunk back into the bed. Night was quickly falling and help would come soon.
Sure enough, as the last of the light faded from my window and my room faded into darkness, a gentle hand cradled the oxygen mask to my face, easing me up with one strong arm.
"How are you, my lover?" Eric asked softly, stroking my hair away from my eyes as he settled me back against the pillows so I could breathe easier. I looked up at him gratefully, smiling weakly, and reached for his face with my trembling hand. He caught it, and brought it up to cup his cheek.
Too much. Tears blurred my vision, though I still gazed at him with complete adoration. My husband. Faithful through our long lives and with me even now. My hand, wrinkled, spotted, the fingers knobby and crooked, stroked his still beautiful, eternal face.
I struggled to draw enough breath to speak and choked out the words I wanted him to hear. "Still yours," I managed brokenly.
"Always mine," Eric replied, clasping my hand to his chest, and kissing the inside of my wrist.
I marveled as always, at the love and devotion in his eyes. "I could watch you for a lifetime," I whispered.
Eric smiled at me, settling down next to me on the bed. "You already have, my wife."
"Sometimes," I choked out, slowly, "It's hard to remember it all."
"Should I remind you?" he whispered to me. "Our life together. Our adventure. "I nodded slightly, captivated by his face.
He drew closer. "Our wedding, I hope, you haven't forgotten. Our real wedding – the one you insisted on. You fought the reverend for weeks, bringing a vampire into the house of God." He raised an eyebrow at that and smiled. I wanted to laugh but I was so tired – my fingers just feebly squeezed his in recognition.
His gaze grew faraway, remembering. "When you stood with me at the end of the aisle, when we took our oaths – oaths I hadn't even believed in in centuries – Sookie, that – that – was the proudest, most joyful moment of my life. Looking in your eyes, feeling the joy you felt pulse through our bond – hearing you pledge yourself to me, willingly, gladly, lovingly, for life – it was worth every second of the thousand years of nihilistic wandering."
I shook my head slowly from side to side. "Not for life," I breathed out softly. "Forever." I'd insisted we say forever in our vows, even though I knew I would never see that future with him. In the hope that maybe there'd be one anyway.
He nodded. "Do you remember when I took you see my homeland?"
"And put your family at peace," I whispered back. I drifted back to the memory. Eric had not returned since he was turned. He discovered later, much later, thanks to archaeologists and private collectors, a Viking village in southern Scania had been pillaged and burned by rivals. Few objects had survived the centuries, but a Viking crown, some gold coins, a woman's ring – these had escaped the hands of the destroyers. Eric had wept for his lost life when he discovered his mother's ring. We'd gone to Sweden, together, to put his past at rights.
There, in the forest by the North Sea he had once reminisced playing by as a child, he told me of his life before he died, completely, for the first time. I saw him anew for who he once had been; a young, Viking warrior, hell bound for glory and honor, deeply tied by tradition and blood to his family and men. The artifacts that we'd found, he'd explained, ought to be returned in the rites his family would have expected. We'd put them out to sea, and he'd watched, crouched down by the waves, until they faded from sight.
My eyes focused on him once more. "Our child," I croaked, recalling another turning point in our lives.
"Yes," he said, his face drawing long with regret. We'd waited years – years – with the cluviel dor, for the perfect moment. When our lives were safer, more stable, we'd decided to try, wishing together for the one thing neither of us could have given the other. It'd worked, but magic, as I'd found in my long life, had a hidden edge. I'd miscarried mid-way through the pregnancy. I remembered Eric's panic on awakening and sensing only one consciousness on the end of our bond, rushing to me in agony, and seeing the truth written on my face. We'd mourned deeply for the loss of the daughter we'd been so close to welcoming into our lives, and Eric never forgave himself for not being there when I'd suffered through the miscarriage alone.
"But then we were blessed with your godson," he replied, smiling again. Jason's little boy, a surprise, for everyone involved. It was bound to happen to Jason eventually. I remembered just shaking my head when he told me, hardly shocked, but wondering how my wayward brother would become a father. But he'd become a wonderful father, and his life had revolved around his son. His mother, unfortunately, hadn't been the same – a V addict who overdosed a few years later. But I'd been there every step of the way, and had loved him like my own.
"Miss him," I said, meaning Jason.
"I know," Eric replied, stroking my hair, "I know."
We lay in silence for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. Time was so fluid for me now. My breathing grew heavier, more of an effort with each intake. It felt like lifting a sack of bricks off my chest with each inhale. My heart too, was beating harder, faster, trying to keep it. I lay, exhausted, feeling the struggle increasing inside me.
And then it skipped a beat. Just for a second – just a slow pause, and then it renewed its rhythm. But things were slightly off now, less certain, less steady. My heart beat choppy and unusual, like a runner limping through the last leg of a long race.
Eric sat up suddenly, looked at me with realization. We both knew what this meant.
I yanked feebly at the mask, and he helped me pull it from my face. Without the oxygen, I would struggle even further, but that didn't matter now. "Take me outside," I whispered.
Wordlessly, Eric scooped me up in his arms, and carried me downstairs, walking out to the back porch, where he gently eased me down into the old wooden swing – which he'd installed decades ago – where we'd watched the stars and talked many nights.
It was a summer night, hot, humid, full of life and noise, pressing against us from the woods nearby, as it had been when I'd been young. I could smell lilacs on the breeze.
"Remember," I wheezed, "Night like this, we first made love."
"How could I forget?" Eric whispered back. "I knew then I could never live without you. I'd stay with you as long as you'd have me."
"Always thought you'd leave," I choked back, barking out a short laugh, and gasping. I'd refused, repeatedly, emphatically, to ever be turned. I'd never changed my mind on that. I'd tried to end things with Eric once, in despair, as I began to first noticeably age. How could he ever love an old, frail woman, a shell of the girl he'd known in her youth? I'd felt the shock, and then anger, surge through him, at the suggestion.
"You are my wife. I will always love you. I will never leave you," he said to me, reaching for my hand in the darkness, and bending forward to press a kiss to my papery, cracked lips.
I smiled. He'd said the same thing that night.
We sat in silence again, gently rocking on the swing. After all our years together, it was enough to sit in silence now and feel the love of the other beside us. I shut my eyes, satisfied with the peace that surrounded my dying body.
When the first hint of brightening came on the horizon, just the first peak of a glow starting over the trees, my hand tightened around Eric's. It would be dawn soon.
My heart sped up faster and faster as I watched the dawn start to break, and my breathing became more and more labored. I was gasping and shuddering for each breath now, and we both knew it wouldn't be long. The shadows were slowly creeping towards us, the light pushing them back.
Eric pulled me into him, holding me close. "Min kära, min fru," he whispered, rocking us both. There was no need for many words. We'd said much, and done much, both without hesitation in our lives together; knowing someday this moment would come.
"Always. Forever," I gasped out, with one last great effort, looking up into his face.
I thought suddenly of the fae world and my dream, as my heart erratically beat a few more scattered beats.
This is not the end, Eric thought, looking directly into my eyes. This goes on. And I could feel the love he had for me more strongly than ever before, bursting through our bond.
Would I see them again? Jason? Claudine? Gran? My parents?
But Eric's love washed away my anxiety. This would always go on.
My heart faltered out with one last beat, and fell silent.
The sun broke over the horizon and fell warm and bright on both of us.
And it all fell away, as I was carried up, off, surrounded and consumed.
Into eternal, undying, love.