Happily Never After by PersianFreak
Sequel to Surprise
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris. Please don't sue.
Rating: T, possibly M for later chapters
A/N: Someone asked me if I was going to write an EPOV, which naturally made me write an EPOV. So here it is, I hope you guys will like it; either way, let me know what you think.
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My cell is small, but that is no matter.
I spend the majority of my time in captivity in what my lover calls downtime and allow my mind to wander to (who else?) Sookie.
She searched for me; I know it. I felt her get her hopes up and have them crushed a dozen times as she followed leads only to run into a dead end. I felt her doggedly search for the smallest hint of truth and fail. Then I felt her spiral downwards into depression as the bond once crackling with her zest for life grew colder until she shut down, her heart locked away. I think away my nights, the monotony broken by the occasional goblets of blood that keep my thirst quenched, for I have no perception of time, but everything reminds me of her. The worst nights are the important dates in the calendar; when she was turned, our anniversary, her birthday, her made-up birthday for me...
"What is the point of this, lover?" I asked for the tenth time as she flipped through the Fangtasia calendar, looking for the perfect date.
"You can't not have a birthday, Eric," She sighed, shaking her head.
"I do have a birthday, I just don't remember what it is," I insisted, watching her as I sipped a glass of blood at the bar, "You tend to forget such things after a thousand years."
"Well, we're going to make one up for you," She flipped past March, stopped, went back and briefly admired the brunette vampire with glistening muscles before continuing her search. I sighed and threw myself unto the couch next to her, studying her face as she flipped past the various photos.
"Why not just pick a random date, lover?" I asked unhappily as she stared at Mr. July far too long for my liking.
"I don't want it to be random," She grumbled, biting her lips absently as she was prone to do. "How about Halloween?" She grinned at me charmingly and I rolled my eyes.
"How about December?" It was my turn to grin and hers to roll her eyes, her beautiful wheat-coloured hair saturating the air with the scent of her shampoo when she shook her head.
"You're already Mr. Dece- Actually that's not a bad idea," She murmured to herself, "You love the winter." I nodded and continued to watch her, loving the way she chewed on her lip as her finger ran through the little squares marking the days. "How about Christmas?" She looked up, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"And what is the significance of that, lover?"I pulled her unto my lap, pulling the calendar out of her hands and tossing it onto the floor as she carefully put her legs around my waist.
"You could be my Christmas present every year," She smiled at me, "Or I could be your birthday present."
"December 25th it is," I pressed my lips against hers.
Gods, I love her.
More than I thought was possible. More than I thought myself to be capable.
I miss her.
There are nights when I wish I could curl up and let the misery have me, but I cannot; I will not. I can't bring myself to break down for in my mind that is tantamount to letting her down, and that is the one thing I swore to myself I would never do again. I brought this upon myself so I do not regret it, nor do I blame her. I would kill far more than just the king for her, and if that means imprisonment (and perhaps a final death) then so be it.
And yet there are nights when I crave any news of her; a message, a scribbled note, a glimmer in the bond... but no. My location is a mystery even to me: keeping in touch with my wife is not an option.
"Tell me you love me," She ordered softly after one of our worst fights, kneeling in front of me as I lay on our bed just before dawn.
"I love you," I sighed, frustrated with her for being stubborn and... herself.
"Say it like you mean it," Her voice was a mere whisper, shaking in its vulnerability.
"I love you, Sookie," She nodded, carefully avoiding my gaze.
"I'm a little afraid that one day you'll get tired of how stubborn I am and stop loving me," She admitted, chuckling a little to mask how deep the fear truly ran.
"I couldn't do that even if I tried, Sookie,"
"How do you know?" How do I know? How do I- How could she not know? How could she not see how deeply entangled I am in her, how I lose myself in her against my natural instinct to destroy anything that makes me vulnerable? How does she still not see that?
"I wouldn't love you if you weren't stubborn and childish and absolutely infuriating," I told her instead with a small smile. Her smile was sad as she looked down at her hands. "Come on," I moved back from the edge of the bed, lifting the comforter, "Get in bed." She slid into bed with her back towards me and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing the back of her neck and shoulders as she settled herself against my body.
"I'm sorry," She whispered drowsily.
"I know, darling," I brushed my thumb down her stomach, "Me, too."
"You always apologize even when it's not your fault," My wife mumbled and I chuckled.
"Sleep,"
"I love you,"
"I love you, too,"
I have memorized every silver-lined cinderblock in my cell, every small imperfection engraved in my memory. I will see her again, I vow to myself though I suspect it will be a promise I cannot keep. Happy anniversary, sweetheart, I send as I have diligently done for the past several years, but I expect no reply. I am simply too far away to be heard, and that is the last nail in the coffin, so to speak.
"Are you sure you don't want a new ring?"
"Yes!" She threw her hands up.
"It's getting old," I protested and she glared at me.
"It's my engagement ring!"
"The new one will also be your engagement ring, lover," I pointed out and she gave me another severe look.
"But it won't be the one you gave me after you proposed to me," She retorts, "It won't be the ring I found in your jacket pocket before you even told me you wanted to marry me."
"You found it in my jacket pocket?" I raised my eyebrows at her and she had the state of mind to look guilty.
"Yeah,"
"When?"
"About 10 minutes before you told me," She admitted apologetically.
"Did you look at it?" She nodded again. "What did you think?"
"I thought you were losing your mind," She smiled sheepishly.
"Did you consider saying 'no'?"
"I didn't think that far ahead," Her grin was becoming tense and I allowed myself to briefly enjoy it as I contemplated her words.
"Okay," I shrugged and walked away.
"What, that's it?"
"Yep," I nodded casually.
"Are you mad at me?"
"You married me, didn't you?" I smiled.
"No more trying to convince me to get a new ring?" She checked.
"You love that one," I nodded at her hand, my voice softening as her words replayed in my head.
"I do," She looked at her ring, "And I love you."
"That is always good to hear," I pulled her, giggling, into my arms.
I find it curious that my best memories of her are the most mundane ones; after a fight, watching movies, simply talking. My wedding day, though a high point, does not portray why I love her. Talking to her, watching her blue eyes glint with a new idea or flash with determination... those are the things that drew me to her at first; when she first told me she was Bill's, that was what drew me to her.
"It is time, Northman," Lucius announced as he swung the door open, shedding light on the dirty floor.
"How many years?" I frowned; my guess would be just over a decade.
"Eleven, next month," He grinned at me as if it was the most fantastic thing. I nodded absently; eleven years. I had survived eleven years without my bonded, but it was the next part that could change everything.
"Have you seen her?" I asked as I stood up, flinching slightly in the light.
"Oh, yes," The way he said it led me to believe there was far more to the story. "She seemed pretty friendly with that vampire... Campton?"
"Compton," I corrected, ignoring his little jab.
"She's doing rather well without you, Sheriff," Lucius sneered as I continued to ignore him. "But don't worry," He continued unperturbed, "I'm sure she'll give you some time before divorcing you. That is, if you get out of here alive." He chuckled to himself as he led me towards the courtroom, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he swung open a set of ornate doors and pushed me inside, slamming them shut behind me. Abandoned, I turned to face my accusers.