A/N This is my longest chapter so far and one that I very much enjoyed writing so I hope you enjoy it too. Thanks again for your kind remarks!

Chapter 18

They lay on a grassy incline by the stream, facing each other, their foreheads touching. Eric took Sookie's hand and murmured that she should concentrate on the beating of her heart, the blood flowing through her veins, and clear her mind.

'This isn't glamour, Sookie. You'll remain conscious and you can stop at any time, just open your eyes and pull away.'

She squeezed his hand and breathed out long and slow. 'I'm ready.'

For a moment her head swam, her heart began to race and she almost screamed with the feeling that she was losing consciousness, falling into some unfathomable blackness; but then her mind cleared. She remained aware that she and Eric were lying together; she could still move and direct her will in real-time even as she entered the vivid dream-scape that had materialised out of the darkness. She was in a bar, or club, illuminated with red light and throbbing with the dark, harsh bass and vocals of a Goth band she remembered from way back... Bauhaus? No...Sisters of Mercy, that song - Temple of Love! She smiled at her ability in these extraordinary circumstances to play 'name that tune'! She was sitting on a very large, ornate seat on some kind of stage and in front of her a line of people were waiting, gazing up at her with the most odd expressions...awe, adoration, lust, fear? She recognised the vampire who had rescued her from the weres – Pam, of course – organising the queue and efficiently weeding out undesirables, which especially included anyone dressed in shorts, sweatpants or corduroy.

The woman at the head of the queue of her bizarre admirers stepped on to the stage, knelt down and immediately titled her head to the right, exposing her neck and raising her hands in a pleading gesture.

'Feed, sir! Please. Take my blood. I love you!'

Her hands – her hands? Eric's hands – extended out to take the woman's head and raise it level. She moved close and whispered, 'To save you from utter humiliation, woman, I will not kick you off this stage and have my staff throw you into the street in spite of your incomprehensible contravention of that sign there, you see it?' She twisted the woman's head to the left. 'I do not feed in public. I am not a fucking grotesque. Now fuck off, sweetheart, before I snap your neck in two. OK?'

The woman sobbed and ran. Outside the dream-scape, Sookie gasped and tensed; Eric stroked her hand in reassurance. But what Sookie was feeling in the dream-world of Fangtasia (she noticed the neon sign flashing the club's name above the bar) was not fear, but exhilaration, power...until her emotions faded to be replaced with... weariness, boredom, irritation. She stood and leapt off the stage, pushing the waiting humans out of her way and gesturing to Pam to follow her to the office.

'Is Compton here yet?'

'No, he's on his way. You know he can't drive in the fucking dark, Eric. And if that moron Gloria gets his limo above 50 and them here within the hour then I will let his majesty fuck me over this desk.'

Sookie was highly amused and slightly scandalised. So that was why Bill had never agreed to drive! Beneath her mirth, though, she felt Eric's continued irritation, and a stab of anxiety.

'He's been here three times since he became king and it nearly caused a riot on every memorable occasion. We don't exactly attract the royalist loyalist types, do we? I'm getting a bit too old for the constant fucking excitement of being sheriff to a regicidal, human-worshipping lunatic king.'

'Perhaps you should retire? Or make a move on the throne yourself, Eric, chop off the king's head and blame it on your hormones! Oh shit, they're here.'

The commotion in the car park was audible as Bill arrived to a chorus of cat-calls and violent obscenities. Pam hurried off to smooth his way in whilst Eric opened a Tru Blood and tried to effect nonchalance.

'Your Royal Highness! Managed to get in without being staked? Good for you. Well, it's a quiet night. I've warmed you a Tru Blood. Gloria, dear, would you like a glass of... human something?'

'Gin and tonic please, Mr. Northman.'

'Oh, Sheriff Northman to you, Gloria, please! What can I do for you, sir? I assume this isn't a social call?'

'You're right. You know I've always valued your loyalty, Eric.' Eric's eyes widened and he stifled the impulse to laugh. 'And right now I believe that the hostility towards me in certain quarters might be crystallising into something a good deal more serious. Franklin Mott's currently on secondment to area 2 after that...falling out of his with Sheriff Dawson.' Eric raised his eyebrows. 'Yes, I know! Totally! Just when you think Mott doesn't have the fangs he was born with and he goes and drains those triplets!' Eric exhaled heavily and nodded. 'Yes, he's a lose canon,' Bill continued, 'but such a fucking doormat when he's under the thumb – Dawson just didn't have the trick with Frank, you know? The trick is to make him feel important, then he'd lick up your spittle from the floor if you asked him. So I sent him to deputy for Edgington. He's picked up this rumour – that lad of Edgington's, Talbot, is one hell of a leaky vessel apparently – that a plot is brewing. No more details, just something possibly very...prejudicial to the monarchy's interests. The Vampire History Convention is coming up and Edgington's hosting it this year in place of ...hummm, our former queen.' Bill shifted uncomfortably. 'I want you to attend this convention, Eric. To assess whether there is any substance to this rumour. Your cover will be that you are researching for a new historical theme that you wish to introduce to Fangtasia – Vampires of the Inquisition, I thought? Something suitably...Gothic?'

Eric gazed at Bill first in incredulity, then in anger as he realised that the king was not joking, and then in resignation as he realised he would have to go.

'Very well. But I am not wearing a costume. And I am not participating in any battle re-enactments or any military historical re-creational events of any kind. Some of those vampires go fucking mental in reconstructed war scenarios. And I say this, and I am a Viking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to the loyal subjects of Fangtasia. You can email my itinerary.'

Eric strode out, took one look at the ever lengthening queue of humans before his throne, and left through the back door to take to the air.

'Sookie? Sookie? Are you OK?

Her fore head was damp with sweat and her pulse fast, but when she opened her eyes they were clear and lucid.

'I'm OK. Actually, Eric, this is truly weird for sure. But kind of...invigorating. And certainly a revelation.' She smirked. 'I mean – Bill Compton can't drive in the dark?'

Eric rolled his eyes. 'You mean you didn't know? You mean he had you as a chauffeur?'

Sookie was offended, and more than a little hurt. 'Well, Eric, in this day and age women are actually permitted to drive and most men don't actually make a big deal out of it. And Bill was a bit of a technophobe, which I did find kinda sweet. You know, once he bought me a selection of garden tools after mine were stolen – but most of them were, like, heavy duty forestry equipment! To trim a few roses and mow a small lawn! He didn't have a clue. Oh and ...well, we never really went aware. We lived real close in Bon Temps, mine was the house across the cemetery. It still is...'

Her voice faltered and Eric pulled her close. This explained why he'd never met Sookie whilst she was dating Bill. Before Bill became king, Eric had rarely had occasion to visit Bon Temps and without any serious connections with the vampire community in Area 5 it would have been easy for Bill to keep Sookie very much to himself, presenting himself as the quaint, back-water, civil war gentleman. But what the hell had he ever done to lose her? To cause her to leave her home and go live in that dump in Shreveport? Sookie clearly loved her old family home, so whatever it was it must have been pretty catastrophic. Dear Sookie. In her own way, he figured she was just as much in exile as he was.

'Sookie, I'd like to take you back in – but it could get very intense, so I need you to promise to pull out if you need to, and if I feel you getting distressed I'll break the bond myself. Trust me. I'm living this too, remember; I can feel your emotions, just as you can feel mine. I'll know when to stop.'

'It's fine.' She took his hand again and closed her eyes. 'I trust you.'

The darkness cleared more quickly this time and Sookie found herself in what looked to be an elaborate, colonial ball-room with chandeliers hanging every few feet and an ornate double stair case leading to a balcony from which a banner hung reading: 'Welcome to the 131st Vampire History Convention!' The place was packed to the rafters with vampires of all ages and races, many of whom seemed to be in fancy dress: eighteenth-century courtesans; Roman centurions; Egyptian kings... vampires sure had a diverse history if this was anything to go by, and it was also clear that vampire 'mainstreaming' was hardly a new phenomenon. They must have been blending in and going about their business since the iron-age, by the look of it. She was slightly disappointed to find that she was not done up as a Viking. Eric had made his opposition to the dress code pretty clear, but she would still have liked to have experienced being in her lover's body in the full regalia. It was really rather an exciting thought. In real-time, Eric stirred and smiled at the sense that Sookie was getting quite aroused by the idea of him (her) in the full Nordic get up.

'I must say, Mr. Northman, that I loved your talk on the vampires of the Inquisition. It really would be a fabulous theme to spice up your little bar, no doubt, but your paper was immaculately researched – really very scholarly. Were you around during that particular period, sir?'

Eric was confronting a male vampire dressed as a Catholic cardinal who appeared slightly drunk on the very fresh human blood that had been flowing freely throughout the evening.

'Yes, I did have the misfortune to experience that particular degradation of the human spirit. It was why I came to America, in fact. Though things were hardly that much better here at that time. Are they that much better now, do you think? How far away are we from the next inquisition, do you suppose, your Grace?'

The vampire looked confused, and then affronted. Eric was surprised to hear himself waxing so philosophical and concluded it was definitely time for some fresh air. He was also due to check in with Bill - to report, for the third night in a row, that as far as he could ascertain absolutely nothing was brewing in the state of Louisiana. Well, nothing beyond the sort of uncomplimentary murmurs you would expect when your king was a night-blind, love-sick fool. He wandered off, nonchalantly sipping his glass of blood, to the far end of the grounds where he took out his mobile and checked his messages. Pam was missing him at Fangtasia. A crowd of rowdy New York tourists were demanding free drinks as recompense for the fact that the bar's key attraction – him, apparently – was not present. Eric replied speedily: 'Gonna try to cut this short, nothing happening, waste of time, may be back tmrw, chin up babe, x'. He was about to dial Bill when something struck him hard from behind. He swung around but then – white hot pain, his face burning – silver spray. He collapsed to the ground and felt his mind shut down as the heavy chains closed around his arms and his body was dragged lifeless to the bluey-green truck waiting, engine revving, in the thickness of the trees.

The blackness thinned out to reveal a large, unfurnished room that Sookie recognised. This was the cellar in the HQ of the New Orleans weres.

'Wakey, wakey, sheriff!' Marcus delivered a sharp, back-handed slap that flung Eric's head back against the wall. 'I'm so sorry not to be able to offer you my usual hospitality, but Russell Edgington doesn't take kindly to spies in his midst and he was ever so insistent that we take you off his hands. He has somewhat bigger fish to fry at the moment...'

The were had in his left hand a silver rod, about three feet long. He ran the tip slowly down Eric's cheek before pulling it back to strike a vicious blow against his chest. Eric choked back the urge to scream, raised his eyes, half-blinded with blood, and levelled his gaze to Marcus. He growled (hoping that his voice carried a good deal more conviction than he actually felt), 'My king will have your fucking hide before the night is out.'

'Oooh, I very much doubt that, sheriff! As we speak, Russell is launching an attack – with twenty of the most ferocious vampire mercenaries it as ever been my delight to meet – against your monarch. Before the night is out, Northman, the throne will be his and your king will be dead. Cooter! Come on, comrade, time for your treat...'

An enormous, snarling beast padded over from the far corner of the basement. It paused for a second, relishing the scent of the blood, before rearing up on its hind legs and striking.

Eric gripped Sookie's shoulders firmly and spoke her name over and over to reassure her she was not there, it was not real, she must come out of it. She was sobbing, shaking, uncontrollably. As her breathing slowed, and her body stilled, he felt her emotions shift and blaze from abject terror, to pure rage. She finally spoke. Her voice calm, ice cold.

'What the fuck was that?'

Eric released his grip and took her hands. 'Well, not the worst of it, as it happens. They captured Pam, she'd felt what was happening and had to come. I knew she would, that was the real torment – the certainty that whatever happened to me would soon be happening to her, that we'd both be dead before sunrise. But no – turns out that even after a thousand years I can still be surprised. Pam did come, we were both pretty close to the true death – but then, there was some sort of commotion, the weres disappeared. The sun rose, we slept, then they returned with... with the fucking king. Russel's scheme had failed – to this day, I have no idea how. Now, imagine this, imagine what a total fucking prick I felt – there I am, beaten to within an inch of my life, my progeny next to me virtually breathing her last, thinking that here is our deliverance! Beaming all over my stupid fucking face at our saviour, the king of Louisiana, who proceeds to unchain us, then chain us again even tighter, and drag us off as prisoners back to Bon Temps. I have to hand it to Edgington – he's a genius. I can kind of see, in a way, why that vampire deserves to be king. He'd kept well out of the fighting, well out of the area in fact, which is why nobody had set eyes on him at the convention. He planned, I guess, to return in glory once the battle was over to claim the throne. But that's not how it worked out. With his army somehow defeated, Russell engaged plan B and that's where I came in, fortuitously gifted to him when that moron Franklin Mott let slip to Talbot that I was at the convention under cover for the king. Until Russell cottoned on his war was lost, he'd intended the weres to kill us, no doubt, but his plan B saved our skins – for what it was worth. He let it be known that the coup was my brainchild, that he'd discovered this at the convention and taken me prisoner. He'd covered his tracks so cleanly that, with all his soldiers either fled or dead, and his back-room allies too terrified to speak, he managed to convince the king that the traitor was me. Bill planned a pretty prompt execution, but the Authority intervened. I don't know, but... I think they did the bidding of my Maker. I haven't seen him for the best part of a millennium, and he's gone pretty fucking peculiar to say the least, but he's one of the oldest vampires there is and if they'd killed me...it could have been Armageddon in Louisiana, to be frank. So I was exiled. Bill managed to accept that Pam had nothing to do with it, and he's always actually quite admired Pam. Hated her, but, you know, she is pretty fucking incredible. Better to have her on side, he figured, keep your enemies close, yadayadayada. He keeps her very close; she has quarters at his house, he barely even lets her feed in peace. And yet, it's only a matter of time before Pam slips up, you know. I thought I was impulsive, but Jesus! Anyway, for me, exile turns out to be Shreveport. In direct contravention of royal decree, I remain in the state. I won't leave Pam. But if Compton ever sets eyes on me...ha ha! It couldn't have been less convenient, Sookie, for me to have moved into your apartment! No?'

Sookie kissed the tears from his cheeks, smudging lips with his blood as she did so. She rose to her feet and walked to the pool just beneath the grassy bank on which they'd been lying. She took off her clothes, walked into the water, and gestured to him to follow.