A Natércia's POV…! I hope you'll enjoy reading it, even though you might not like the characters' behaviors. And believe me, it was very hard to write an original character's POV – so, please, let me know your thoughts about it, by reviewing. And thank you for reading. Take care. Célia

Natércia "Blaze Of Glory"

Zephyrus, meaning West Wind in Old Greek, had come back from Brazil with no such thing as a Zen-like personality, even thought he had been meditating for half a fucking century. So, after almost a month entertaining my "lovely" maker in Vancouver (and teaching him the perks of the 21th century), I felt the need to just pack a suitcase and fucking leave my own house. Because the West Wind blows from West to East, I decided I would go the opposite direction and so I caught a plane to the LaGuardia airport because, in Queens, it was the closest to Manhattan. As soon as I landed, I took a cab for the 8-miles drive to Midtown. I hadn't been there for almost a year, but I felt immediately at home when I entered my one-bedroom apartment.

I spent the next couple of weeks meeting old friends and having a good time. I loved to be among vampires, and there were a lot of us in New York City. The North of the United States had always been known for its belief in the importance of liberty and equal rights. They had always thought that constitutionalism, liberal democracy, free and fair elections, human rights, free trade, and the freedom of religion were important ideas. And that just meant that the stupid human officials of the Northern States had approved many more laws regarding our Rights and Freedoms than the Southern States, thus, having a bigger vampire population. And the State of New York or, more especially, Manhattan, had the bigger vampire population per capita of the whole country.

Yes, Manhattan was great. If nothing else, there were people on the street and things to do all night long. And because I was over a thousand years old, I was always regarded as an important and valued individual wherever I went among vampires. And that was how I found myself getting ready to leave my place to go to the private party of the recent appointed King of New York, who I had met the previous week. He was over seven centuries of age and because he had been born in a poor part of the twelfth-century-China, he was a small and skinny guy. But he exuded confidence and he sounded capable. There was just a thing about him though… He wanted to be called Jiungguo. And that was just, well… fucking stupid, really. I had spent four of five decades in both Beijing and Xinjiang (during the early years of the Qing Dynasty, around 1670 more or less) and so I knew that Jiungguo was a Chinese name that meant "administering the state," from chêng that was "government," and kuo that translated into "a country, state or kingdom". And so, that guy, a newly nominated King was calling himself exactly it. I mean… Seriously? Could he be more a cliché?

But anyway, he was still a King. And it would be a good party. Why the hell a Chinese guy would throw a Christmas party was beyond me, but yes, I was sure that I would have fun that night. But it was still a little past eleven, and the party wouldn't start for another hour, so I was alone, on a Christmas night, in my apartment in New York.

And because Christmas had always meant family and friends, I had a little out-of-character moment for me, and I used that hour before I had to leave, to call my family and my friends. Álvaro and Francisco, my children, had both been told to attend to Zephyrus' needs in Vancouver (and believe me, he truly needed someone with him at all times – he had stayed away from the real world for way too long, and he still needed help with the present-day world), and so, when I called home, I was able to speak on the phone with the three of them with only one phone-call. I then called Adelaide in Ottawa, who was excited about a new decree that would force all government departments and public offices to be open for at least two hours after sun-set. I also called Annushka and Richard in California, the only vampire couple that I knew that had been together for almost a hundred years now, nonstop. And I also called Aodhan, or rather Aidan, as he wanted to be called now. Aidan had been my previous year's lover, but we had only last for a few months, as all my other vampire-vampire relationships. Except one. Or rather, except the one. And finally, I called Eric in Louisiana.

Eric Northman was "the one". He was what you could call my twin flame or even my twin soul (that is, if we, vampires, had one, which I didn't think so). He was the only person with whom I had a feeling of deep and natural affinity and compatibility. And also intimacy. And, of course, sexuality. But it was not that we were exactly the same. We weren't. Actually, we were extremely different in many things pertaining our opinions and personalities. But, deep down, we knew we belonged to each other, even though we had never managed to stay together for long, like Annushka and Richard. Eric and I, we… We were real companions.

Now, here's a little story. Thomas Calverton had been an English poet and forger of pseudo-medieval poetry, who had died at the age of twenty-three of arsenic poisoning, either from a suicide attempt or self-medication for a venereal disease. He had lived in the sixteenth century and he had been an awful writer. But Thomas had had something else that had distinguished him from the other humans: he had known all about vampires, even though he was a human, because besides being a bad poet, he had also been a dabbler in the occult. And he had read the one or two few books about us. And he had believed it. And for some reason that I can't really recollect right now, the London vampire community of the time, just left Thomas unglamoured, even thought he knew about us. Anyway, the important thing about Thomas Calverton was that, even though he had been a terrible writer, once in a blue moon, he had said deep sentences. And there was this time, when he said to Eric and I a couple of tacky sentences. But they had stuck. And since then, Eric had repeated over and over again whenever we would separate once more, that together we just "burnt with the splendor of the brightest fire", and I would always answer him that yes, we "shone too bright to last for long".

But much more significant than our attempts at staying together, was our friendship and the fact that we had been there for each other for over 800 years. He was, without a doubt, my companion in life, my trusted supporter and ally. Eric Northman was my best friend. Eric Northman was my family. And so, of course, I called him too.

I let it ring, but when he didn't pick up the phone, I chose to not leave a message. I knew he'd call me as soon as he saw my missing call. I wondered what he was doing in that fucking shit hole that he called home. Why was Eric, such an extraordinary vampire, content in being just a Sheriff in such an Area and State would never be clear to me. But hey, except for me, Eric did have strange tastes – look at Pamela, for instance. She was such a needy, spoiled, flawed and insolent child. Eric called her spirited; but I had always thought she was just badly behaved and disrespectful.

Anyway, I soon left for the party and, like I had predicted, I had a blast there. Everyone was impeccably dressed and even though there were a few humans there, it was mostly vampires (and not your 80 or 90 years-old variety of vampires either, but rather older than five centuries), and I had lots of fun. The music and the donors were great and the conversations interesting. All in all, it was a great Christmas night.

And on the next night, as expected, Eric called me. The previous night, when I had called him, I had merely intended to wish him a happy Christmas, and that was that. But when he called me back, I realized that he sounded really strange on the phone. And I thought that he sounded even stranger when he insisted that he would come to Manhattan to meet me, especially because I hadn't talked about us meeting. And you know what? It really appeared that he just wanted me away from Shreveport. Was that the reason why he would offer to go to Manhattan? I hadn't even suggested that I wanted to see him. I had only wanted to wish him Happy Holidays. But hell, if he didn't want me in Louisiana, then that was where I would be. And so, obviously, I told him that I was going there soon.

But I had made many appointments and I had already agreed to several meetings in the last couple of weeks in New York. And so, it still took me a month or so, to be able to leave Manhattan and go to those boondocks that was Shreveport. As soon as I landed, I rented a car, and I was pleasantly surprised when a dashingly handsome guy gave me the keys and went out with me to show me the car while helping me with my luggage. He was tall and he had an athletic body, with green eyes and dark hair, as well as good teeth and a good-looking face. And he had a sweet smell about him. So, of course, I tasted him. And he was actually AB-negative, and extremely tasty. And that was why I did taste him in more ways than one. Yes, as soon as I sampled his blood, I decided that I wanted him. And so I had him. And turns out that the guy, Cameron, was actually a healthy 30-year old with a few sexual tricks under his sleeve.

Anyway, the flavorsome Cameron made me late for my meeting with my friend and I was received by a bizarre Eric who almost didn't kiss me. Besides, he took me to a hotel and not to his house. And why? Because he had a woman there! Eric Northman had a woman in his house. And they had, and I quote, "been together for a while" and she was "important to him".

Oooookay. You know what? Actually, no. Not okay. What I meant was: huh? What the fuck?

But then, Eric's next words would make it all even weirder, because he said that he had the woman's fucking kid living there too. A kid? A human kid? A… kid-kid? Huh?

Why?

Kids were loud, stupid, annoying, ugly, and they smelled like dog shit. They were always running around giggling and spilling everything everywhere. They wasted their time playing shitty games. Their blood was weaker than normal humans. Kids weren't even real people. That was why kids paid less to go to movies and such. They paid less because they were worth less. No, not worth less. Just worthless, with their feeble and weak blood.

And Eric was telling me that he had a kid-kid living at his house? With him?

I went to my hotel room after we decided that he'd come and pick me the next night at 8 pm. And let me tell you, I had thought that the whole "having a human and her kid in his house" thing was over the top. But, turns out, there was more.

Because on the next night, when I told Eric about an incredibly tasteful Brazilian girl that was on the hotel's menu, he answered me that he only drank from that woman that he had in his house. I insisted for him to taste the girl, but he kept saying that he wouldn't. And he even told me that for the last two years, Eric had only drunk from others rather than her, three times. Three times. In two years. And only because he had been in Arkansas at the time. When I asked him why, he just said that she was enough for him, and that, in fact, he didn't want to drink anyone else. He actually said that he was only thirsty for his human. He didn't desire anyone else. I insisted about the Brazilian girl's good taste, obviously. And he only answered that no matter who the person was, every single blood donor now smelled bland and insipid to him, if compared to his human's blood.

And again, I could only think "huh?" because, let's face it, no blood is that lovable that you don't want to taste any other. But apparently, his human's blood was. I couldn't wait to meet the creature.

As soon as we arrived at Eric's, he introduced me to the woman, a something Stackhouse. She had a good body, I admit, but so did many other women everywhere. She had on a light red polyester t-shirt that was low cut enough to show her ample cleavage and some brand less jeans. Her blonde hair was teased up and fried-looking, and her skin was tanned. I wondered how long it would take for her skin to start showing that leathery quality that comes from too much sun exposure. I would never understand that new trend about tanned skin. Back when I was alive, being tanned just meant that you were poor and you had to work in the fields yourself, because you didn't have servants. No proper lady would ever want to have such a dark skin. But, the human did smell wonderfully, I had to grant her that. And, all things considered, I could see why Eric would be attracted to her. Though I still didn't understand why he kept her for two fucking years, and at his own house, of all the places.

And then he showed me the kid. And she looked like a mini-Stackhouse. Except… she smelled something between her mother and a… were. A were. What? A were? Eric was keeping a fucking half-breed were-kid at his place? Oh hell. There were so many wrong things within that sentence: "half-breed", "were-kid", "his place". And the kid just held onto him and he held onto the kid like they were on… I don't know… a fucking Rice Crispies's TV ad or something.

What. The fuck. Was going. On.

Seriously: what the fuck was going on in Eric's fucking mind?

We then sat (the half-were kid was still on Eric's lap) and we talked for a while. The woman, Sookie, as Eric bluntly repeated to me ("Her name is Sookie, Nat"), sounded nice and polite, but I kept thinking how fucked up that whole situation was. And even Eric sounded worried and stressed out.

And later, when she went upstairs to do something with the half-were kid that I didn't really pay attention to what it was, I used the opportunity to move closer to Eric and try to undo all his almost nervous tension and stress. And what better than Zephyrus' stories and his recent adaptation to the 21st century? Eric had always thought that Zephyrus was a humorous guy, and they had always been affable with each other, so I was sure that he'd think that Zephyrus' tales would be amusing.

Now: getting along with the modern ways was something that all vampires had to do because we lived through out so many fucking ages, that we had to adapt. Or else we wouldn't survive. Yes, adapting was something we really needed to be able to do. But that was not always easy, and all of us, the old-timers, had many stories of difficult times with that necessary adjustment. And some were just fucking hilarious.

You want an example? The first time Eric saw one of those early twentieth century heavier-than-air man-carrying aircrafts, I mean, those cloth-made gliders, he was… well, hit by one when he was flying somewhere in Botswana. We were living in South Africa back then, but Eric had travelled to Mozambique, through the Bechuanaland Protectorate in Botswana, for some reason that I don't remember anymore. And he was really hit by one of those early air-crafts. I would say that he had been run over, but because it happened on the sky… well, maybe he had been flown over… But the best part of it? It was his face. Yes. His face when he told me that the humans had built a flying machine? Well, it was precious! He couldn't even believe it. Even worse, back then, I didn't believe him either.

Yes, all old-timers, had many fucking hilarious stories of difficult times about that necessary adjustment through time.

At any rate, I sat beside Eric, and I told him about Zephyrus. And it was almost a blaze of glory for me, when I felt Eric immediately loosening up and starting to laugh with me when I told him about my maker's first contact with synthetic blood, and also with humans in public. We had been out in the open for almost twenty years already, but he hadn't known that. And when he saw humans and vampires together in a bar in Vancouver he just… freaked out. He completely freaked out. And I was just telling Eric all about it when that Sookie-person came back downstairs again, minus the kid.

Not that I was missing her, but I was curious… Where the fuck was the kid?

But when Eric asked her the same thing... Well, not exactly the same thing, he asked her if the were-kid was sleeping, then I remembered that human children do sleep for many hours. Like I said before: worthless. And so, it would be just the three of us.

And there we stayed, for a couple more hours, just talking and drinking that dreadful True Blood that was everywhere in those days. But soon it was time for Eric to show me Fangtasia and its changes. He had slightly redone the place since I had last been in Shreveport. And so, he drove us there.

The place was great and I liked the new tables and chairs much more than the previous ones. Unfortunately, it was full of blood-bags, but I knew that they were spending their hard-earned money there, so it didn't bother me too much. As soon as the bar officially closed, I enjoyed a good talk with Dahlia, Madeline, Maxwell Lee and Josiah. And thankfully, and even though I was expecting her, Eric's boring child Pamela didn't show up there. And that was just great. After having to meet and talk with Eric's human, I would hate to have to meet and talk with Eric's child. And again, I found myself thinking about Eric's taste in women. Hell, besides me, there was no woman that was worth a damn in his life.

Eric's job in his office didn't take him too long, and soon, he joined us. There was some frozen human blood there, and we all had a nice night drinking it and just talking about whatever we wanted. And Eric's stress-free appearance continued. You see? He was only tensed with that… human of his. He was much more himself among vampires. I'd have to make him see it. Damn, I was his family. I owed to him to take care of him. And in that moment, taking care of him, meant separating him from that low-life blond woman who was sucking the life out of Eric alongside with her half-were kid.

"So, he's been trying but he can't?" I asked at some point during the night.

We were talking about the younger child of Josiah's maker. He was a little over 200 years old, and he was called Abraham. And Abraham had lived in Poland for a few decades, but he had recently moved back to Israel, where he had been born. But he was facing some problems there.

"He has been to their DMV dozens of times, and he has written letters to everyone, including the Prime-Minister, with several documents attached that prove his claims that he was born when he was, but he still isn't allowed," Josiah answered me.

The thing was: even though Poland was still not as developed as other Western Europe countries, it did belong to the EU. And so, the country had adopted several laws approved by the European Council, regarding Vampire Rights. And that was why Abraham was used to having several rights as a Vampire Citizen. Yes, the truth was that, even though the USA had been the first country to legally accept us; now, the European Union, including Poland, had far more laws allowing certain privileges and civil liberties to its dead citizens, than America. But Israel, on the other hand, wasn't yet that forward-thinking regarding us. And Abraham was facing a few difficulties in his adaptation to his birth-country in the new Post-Great Revelation world. And what difficulties? Getting a driver's license, for instance. And why? Because, as Josiah was telling us, their maker had turned Abraham when he was still at a young age.

"I've never met him. How old does he really look like?" Eric asked.

"I don't know. Twelve, maybe? A small twelve-year old."

"And can he at least reach the pedals?" Dahlia asked sarcastically and we all laughed out loud. Including Eric. Yes, he truly loved to be a vampire, and be among vampires. That thing with the human and the half-were kid was just a silly phase. And I would make sure that Eric would get over it.

"And can't he get a fake one?" Maxwell Lee asked when our laugh outburst calmed down.

"He already has. But it doesn't fucking solve his problem, does it? Fake driver's license or not, he still looks like he's twelve and so the police keeps signaling to him, making him stop the car and show his documents. And even though his fake papers are sound, he doesn't even look like a fucking teenager," Josiah drank from his True Blood bottle (he had previously said that he actually liked the fowl taste of it), and then he added, "He fucking looks even younger than a teenager."

And we all laughed again, right before we started talking about how great the 1910's had been (even with World War I, or the Great War, as we called it then), compared to how the 2010's were turning out to be. We could only hope that the 2020's would be as great as the 1920's had been.

For old timers like us, the new Post-Great Revelation world was still something hard to accept. We now had to obey tons of fucking laws, whereas before we could do what we bloody wanted. Yes, we had new rights, and it sure felt great to be able to be myself in public. But I wasn't really myself, because now I had to pay attention to where I ate, and who I ate, and how I ate. And God forgive if we were caught on film drinking in public. And every fucking cell-phone now had a camera, so we had to be alert at all times! And glamouring was completely prohibited now. We all still did it, obviously. I mean… it was part of who we were. But again, just like with the biting and drinking, we just bloody couldn't be caught on film doing it.

And, of course, in a more personal aspect, I had been fucking tortured for five fucking years in Russia by the fucking Orthodox Patriarchate Church of God. And that only happened because we had assumed ourselves to the fucking blood bags. So, yeah, you can say that I hadn't truly gasped the whole "showing our true nature will be good for us" thing.

Humans were food. They were sustenance. They were the same as groceries, for fuck's sake. And we didn't owe them a fucking thing, let alone an explanation about ourselves. The Great Revelation had only made them aware of us, nothing more. And for some crazy reason, a few of them actually enjoyed to be with us. Some of them even wanted to be close to us, to be in relationships with us. But that was not proper. That was not fucking proper. It was not correct. Actually, it was completely wrong. And it was basically against our nature. We shouldn't be that close to those blood bags. They served only one purpose: to feed us. And whenever they started to be anything else other than nourishment, the only thing that came out of that were vampires who were then confused about their feelings. Just like Eric was.

Okay, yes, the blood bags were also good for fucking (but without feelings attached, of course) because having sex with another vampire, unless it was just a one-night stand, was just too damn complicated – the whole "who has power over whom" thing was just a pain in the ass. And that was why my long relationship with Eric was so different and rare among vampires. The only exception to that was the Maker/Child relationships (just like Annushka and Richard), because then the Child could never have control over the Maker, and so, in such a relationship, it would be obviously clear who controlled whom. And the truth was that, without a blood connection, there wouldn't be any true and long relationship between vampires. Okay, vampires could have polite relationships or even light friendships; but those never lasted for long.

Yes, believe me: if two or more vampires showed themselves as good friends, you could bet that it was because all of them would have ulterior motives, such as their own safety, or perhaps the possibility of earning more money or power. But one thing was for sure: it definitely was not because they were true friends. If there was no blood link, there was no real friendship among vampires. And that was why vampires needed to fuck humans. Because humans would never have control over the vampire. Hence the importance of not having feelings for them!

So why did Eric and I remain so close for so many centuries if there wasn't a blood relationship? Well, because, even though Eric knew nothing about it, we did have a blood connection between us. Eric had once drunk from me, when I was barely three decades old and he was still a human.

The thing was: more than 1000 years ago, the Ancient Pythoness lived in Jämtland, a historical province in the center of what is now Sweden. And back then, her importance to us vampires was even more than today because, just as humans, we weren't as knowledgeable then as we were now. And that gave her oracle capacities even more importance. And that was why many of us travelled though the North of Europe to go and see her. Including Zephyrus and I.

And that was the first time I saw Eric. Because his village was somewhat close to the main road to Jämtland, both me and my maker stopped by to have dinner there that one night. I still remember that Zephyrus chose to drink a young girl of no more than 12 or 13 years old, though at the time, she'd be practically an adult at that age. And I chose Eric. And I drank from him. But because I was still kind of young, I over-drank and I almost killed him. And then, I panicked. And why did I panic for almost killing a simple human? Because I was afraid I would be castigated for it.

Two or three nights before that night, I had killed a woman. And Zephyrus had helped me get rid of her body. And, unfortunately for me (and for my donors, I guess) that had not been the first time that it had happened. But that woman had been pregnant and Zephyrus had been very angry with me because of my mistake. And he had promised a huge punishment if that was to happen again because, at my third decade of being a vampire, I should already have a better control over my impulses. And so, when I felt Eric's heart slowing too much, and then almost stopping, I got terrified that I had killed him and that my Maker would chastise me. And Zephyrus' disciplinary methods had always been dreadful. So, in my panic to prevent his punishment, I gave Eric my blood and I quickly glamoured him into forgetting everything and just going back to his home. And luckily, Zephyrus had been too engrossed into his girl to notice what had happened.

Imagine my awe when two centuries later, I accidentally meet my former dinner. And at first I hadn't recognize him, but suddenly I smelled something of me in him, and I managed to pin down the reason why he would smell of me. And even though I'd never control Eric like Ocella had, not even close, I had at the time of that meeting, and I still did now, a little influence over Eric. And that had been the reason why I hadn't killed him when we fought that first time I met Eric after he had become a Vampire. And that had also been the reason why we had managed to stay friends for so long. Because my blood called to him. Yes, granted, the voice of my blood in him was very low, and almost imperceptible. But it was there. And I was glad for it. And I was also glad that I hadn't ever told about it to Eric.

Anyway, we kept talking for a while at Fangtasia; and a couple of hours before sunrise, we all left the bar and Eric drove me back to the hotel. And then, for some unfathomable reason, he didn't want to come up to my bedroom with me. It was as if he was afraid to be with me upstairs. But ultimately he did go to my bedroom, obviously. Especially after I told him about the documents Adelaide had given me in Ottawa the month before, so I would give it to Eric. They had something to do with Ocella's inheritance and Eric should have them and sign it or some shit like that. I really didn't care. I just wanted Eric naked on my fucking bed. "Fucking bed", indeed!

And so, as soon as we got inside, instead of picking the papers that I was supposed to deliver to Eric, I just jumped at him and I kissed him hard. And strangely, he didn't react at first. And it made me remember how he hadn't kissed me right on the previous night. And now, he was doing the same.

But I insisted, and finally, he kissed me back. And if anyone knows how to kiss, it's Eric. And that was just another blaze-of-glory-moment for me. Why? Because Eric's tongue and lips simply tasted divine. And kissing him felt so fucking natural that you'd believe that we had been born kissing and had spent all our lives just doing it. It was that instinctual. And then, I had this urge to just hold onto him… And Eric was so tall that the only way for me to grab him was for my arms to go under his armpits and then up his back. And that was what I did. I hold onto him with all my strength that I even scratched his upper back and shoulders with my nails. Even through his shirt. And at the same time, I could feel Eric's grip in my hair and waist increase with the raising of his own strength. And I felt… great. I felt marvelously, heavenly, other-worldly great. I just loved to both possess and be possessed by Eric Northman. He was such a sexual animal. And the two of us together? We were just fucking awesome.

And I knew that Eric thought the same, because in less than one minute after the beginning of our kiss, Eric picked me up and he then dropped me on the bed, with his body falling right next to mine. And we kept kissing. And I could almost fell the pull of my blood in him. Besides, we had swapped blood so many times during our 800 years together, that whenever we met, we would be completely drawn to each other.

We were about to undress, again less than one minute after we had moved to the bed, when I pierced both my tongue and his lips with my fangs. I always did it. It was my thing. We were vampires, and blood always turned us on, obviously, so I had done it hundreds and hundreds of nights before. Besides, the exchange of blood also increased the connection between us. So yes, it really was my thing. And that was why I did it again. But then, something stranger than all those other strange things that had been happening since I had landed in that fucking town happened. Yes, at that moment, on that bed, what happened next was the most fucking strange thing ever. Even stranger than Eric playing fucking house with a human and a were-kid. Yes, what happened then was even stranger than that. And what happened? Well, it happened that Eric, instead of getting turned on with the blood; he got… turned-off. He actually ended the kiss, left the bed (with me still on it), and looked with remorseful eyes at me.

And then he told me something that I had never heard in all our 800 years together. "I will not have sex with you, Nat."

Ah. What?

"Why not?"

He was kidding, right? He could only be kidding.

And when I asked him why, he said that it was because of that damn human that was living at his place. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. I would not be fucking dumped because of a fucking human. I would not. Especially not by Eric Northman. Not by my Eric Northman. Not my Enrico. Lui era mio. Era mio. He was mine. He was my vampire since that night I had met him in Italy, in a small village close to Rome. Lui era mio. He was my friend, my family, my lover, my man, my vampire. He was fucking mine. He had been mine of over eight centuries. And he would always be. And of that, I was sure.

So? Do I have to go and hide somewhere? Eric did kiss her back again and he even picked her up and he then dropped Nat on the bed… So, I'm guessing that I should put myself out of sight... But then he stopped! And that's why I'll take my chances and not run away from angry readers… :)

Now, just a couple of details. First, "Francisco" is my other grandfather's name (after Natércia, Adelaide and Álvaro, I was only missing one more grand-parent). Second, "Lui era mio" means something like "he was mine" in Italian. I did once a summer course and that was when I started learning Italian. And despite the fact that it was 12 years ago, I still believe I got it right. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my story. Célia

Blaze of Glory is Jon Bon Jovi's first solo album, released in 1990, and its first single as well. It remains a crowd favorite with Bon Jovi fans, despite the fact that the song was not released as one of the band's singles, and only by Jon. The song was also notable for the performance of rock legend Jeff Beck on guitar and it was the theme from Motion Picture "Young Guns II". It starts this way: "Wake up in the morning / And I raise my weary head / I got an old coat for a pillow / And the earth was last night's bed / I don't know where I'm going / Only God knows where I've been / I'm a devil on the run / A six gun lover / A candle in the wind, yeah!"