Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 47 Jitterbug
SPOV
Our 'conversation' was interrupted by Quinn, in search of the star of his show.
Eric kept me clamped to his side as we returned to the Ballroom, humans and weres moving past us in the opposite direction, enticed and chivvied to the buffet by Quinn's team.
Inside he handed me off to Thalia and Alcide, his eyes lingering on mine as Quinn led him away to the dais that had appeared in the middle of the dance floor.
Unlike the cocktail party portion of the evening everything now is quiet and serious. Unnerving in its intensity.
The lights are off and as the doors close we're plunged into total darkness.
Instinctively I back myself into the corner, sighing when Thalia and Alcide draw back with me.
Calm confidence is flowing through the bond and I will myself to relax, focussing on the Eric light inside me, sinking into it but letting my mind roam out . . . .
Quinn begins to speak and everyone's thoughts are thoughtful and respectful, their eyes focussed on Eric as he stands behind him with his head bowed.
I don't know the language he's speaking but Thalia does and with a twinge of guilt I home in on her thoughts.
She's so proud of Eric her chest is almost bursting. She's wishing Godric were here to see his son on the night of his first coronation. She's vowing to kill anyone who threatens our happiness, our safety. She's remembering, everything . . . .
These words, the same each time, Godric's coronation, hers . . . . the proper responses of the audience, the monarch . . . . the vows made to protect their subjects, their kind, their secrets . . . .
It's beautiful, the sentiment of the ceremony, the weight of the words, and I can feel myself getting swept up in it. But I can read their minds, see their lip service, that it means nothing beyond this moment. As soon as it is over they will be back at each other's throats, fighting for dominance.
It's so jarring with the atmosphere that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. No wonder Eric considered this the worst possible outcome, such noble possibilities, such a crock of absolute shit in reality. Why do they even bother?
I know he'll be a good King but suddenly it feels like he'll be wasting himself on it, fighting a losing battle, playing a pointless game . . . .
He sinks to his knees before Quinn, a sight so wrong it has me starting forward, crashing into Thalia's back, a shout forming on my lips, a wild light springing up inside me.
She shoulders me back, pressing me into the corner with a warning hiss.
And then he's standing again, towering over the assembly, exuding power and invincibility.
Everyone bows.
Quinn says a few more indecipherable words.
Thalia releases me and I wrench myself out of the corner, crossing the room as fast and decorously as my 'fuck me' heels will allow.
Eric accepts me into his side without a word, winding his arm around my waist, not even breaking his conversation with the 'well-wishers' pressing around him.
This can't be right, I can see in their minds that this isn't right. Curious, conniving, cautious, jealous . . . .
But he wants me here and I have no inclination to go.
…..
Recessed lights have come on, the doors are open, and people are flooding in, the band is already set up and playing on the dais, a party atmosphere is breaking out all around us.
Regretfully I allow Thalia to ease me away from Eric and over to the bar.
"Princess cannot claim Master yet." She says quietly as we wait to be served.
"Claim?"
She presses a glass of champagne to my lips before I can complete my question, the bubbles go straight up my nose and her forbidding eyes go straight to my vocal chords. Fine. I'll ask later.
God, this stuff is so good, it's going straight to my head. I swear I just saw Niall.
Can't have. I shake my head to clear it.
Alcide silently replaces my champagne flute with a glass of water.
"Thanks." I murmur.
He just smiles at me. He doesn't know what happened last time I over imbibed but he knows it was bad.
No matter what I keep telling myself I can't shake the giddy happiness from earlier, Eric can say quite a lot with his lips and tongue and what he was trying to tell me has turned my inner teenager to mush. My toes are tapping to the music as I scan the room happily.
The three of us are perfectly content to occupy our tiny corner of the bar, watching the great and good pass us by. A few people stopped by to say hello. Stan, who seems to be on a mission to dress less impressively the more important the occasion, if I didn't know him I would have assumed someone from the offices had sent him up to fix a computer. We chatted for a while and I'm pleased that my improved ability was able to confirm that he's a decent person. Charles and Pam both took time out of their fervid networking to visit with us. Charles was a charming as ever, Pam was complaining that Eric's Viking roots were showing and the party should have been a great deal more lavish. Quinn stopped by too, and several vampires who knew Thalia well enough not to terrified of her, popped over to say hello before beating a hasty retreat.
A few monarchs have come over to introduce themselves, curious about the human Eric seemed to favour so much, but no one has said or done anything inappropriate. For the most part their thoughts aren't too bad, even the ones who were wondering if he would tire of me and eventually be prepared to sell me. Still I wouldn't trust most of them as far as I could throw them.
The humans are a whole other story. There are no fangbangers here but that doesn't mean the palace isn't crawling with beautiful sophisticated women who would love nothing better than to get in Eric's pants. Dating isn't completely unknown for vampires, the King of LA has had a string of affairs with Hollywood actresses and New York has been seen escorting a supermodel around on more than one occasion. Apparently Eric has hit the big time, they want him his for his money and for what the profile of being seen with him could do for their careers. And what's in his pants. I've no idea what's in his pants, but I'm damn well gonna find out before they do . . . .
Whoa.
I swig down the rest of my champagne.
What happened to not wanting to be an asset with benefits?
Kissed right out of me apparently.
In the end I wouldn't sleep with Bill because I didn't care for him enough. I have entirely the opposite problem with Eric. Am I really not going to sleep with him, even though I'm coming to know that he wants me for more than just sex, blood and my disability, because my stubborn Stackhouse streak believes that I shouldn't? If it's waiting for a declaration of love from Eric it's going to be waiting a heck of a long time. Is that what's going to stop me, fear that he'll never love me? How would that be any less painful just because I kept my virginity out of the equation?
Wow. I can suck the fun out of anything when I put my mind to it.
Libido crushed. Spirits low.
Do you know what? No. I'm not making any high and mighty moral decisions based on what Gran taught me. In fact I'm not making any decisions at all, not even to throw my panties to the wind and have at him. I'm going to wait and see what happens, have that actual talk I wanted earlier, and then I'm going to do what feels right.
"Does anyone want another drink?" I ask, getting me my feet and quietly groaning in relief as my corset releases its death grip on my insides.
Alcide checks his watch.
"I'll take a beer." He decides.
Thalia shakes her head, thinking about visiting the donor station as soon as she's 'off duty'.
There's a crush at the bar but the barman makes his way to me as soon as he's free, much to the chagrin of the people who've been waiting longer.
"Champagne and a Sam Adams please."
He whirls away to complete my order and I turn to look out over the Ballroom.
It was Niall I saw earlier. He's dancing the Jitterbug with a dark haired beauty in a long sheath dress, who is laughing like a loon and struggling to stay upright when her skirt restricts her movements.
Despite the shock I smile, the pair of them look like they're having the time of their lives.
And their minds are warm, happy, and flitting away from me like butterflies . . . .
Fairy minds! No wonder they felt so familiar.
The woman falls into Niall's arms, laughing even harder and the pair of them turn to face me.
Crap!
What's he doing here? Was he invited? Does Eric know? Is there going to be trouble?
I've an urge to sprint over and hug him, let him hold me tight and tell me everything is going to be okay. But I can't. I'm afraid of him now. Of the things he's done, the things I don't know, of being a fairy.
I need to get out of here, find somewhere quiet to think, before I face him . . . .
But he's already hurrying toward me, tugging the still laughing woman along with him.
"Sookie." His face lights up as he crashes to a stop in front of me, sporting a smile that would melt glaciers. "You look beautiful, I am so happy to see you."
"Um?"
"This is my Consort, Aghavilla."
The dark haired beauty smiles at the startled expression on my face.
"It is just a word Princess." She says, rolling her eyes playfully at Niall. "We can talk about it later. But please, call me Aga, all the family do."
Reeling. My head is reeling and my body is threatening to join in. That Princess word again. Consorts. Family. Fairies. Here.
I've never wanted to be a 'fainter' more in my entire life.
I never get what I want . . . .
EPOV
I badly wish to be free of this three ring circus. Perhaps then, when the last guest has left town and the last meeting has been completed, I can work to regain some semblance of control over my life.
But first I have to get through tonight.
I have managed to accomplish most of what was required this evening. I have been crowned, although I put my foot down and refused to physically wear one. I have spoken to Cataliades and he has promised to contact Sookie's relative and request a meeting. I have arranged a meeting with de Castro for first thing tomorrow night, he was annoyed that I put him off but I could not have dealt with him now, I am still too angry. I have spoken to every celebrity, politician and vampire that was required of me and I have been well behaved and charming.
And now I want to talk to Sookie. I have waited and prevaricated long enough. I do not completely understand what is going on between us but instinctively I know that she is what I need to put the final puzzle pieces together.
I also know that I want to be near her, to be able to touch and hold her. Did she feel that in our kiss? It was all there, my complicated and not always understood need for her, leaving me naked and exposed, even without speaking the words.
I have not made anything easy for her but she is still here and she listened to me with everything she had . . . .
"Your Majesty." Charles's voice is amused. "Have you heard a word I just said?"
"Of course." I raise my eyebrow at him. "You came to the conclusion that I was not paying attention and decided to ask me if you could use several million of my dollars to create a jewel encrusted run for the lop eared rabbit you have decided to buy."
He laughs.
"I am always paying attention Charles, you should know that. I merely did not wish to answer your question."
"Fine. If you will excuse me then Your Majesty there are some very attractive young ladies here and I am feeling the urge spread some, charm."
I laugh as I watch him glide away. Charles and I have staged many successful and highly rewarding charm offensives in our day. There are some extremely beautiful women here tonight but I am only interested in one. She is unsettled and nervous and it takes me a few moments to find her in the crowd.
Cataliades's infuriating human is with her and I cross the room, my eyes fixed on Sookie's upset face. He has gone too far this time, baiting me is one thing, messing with her is entirely unacceptable.
Reaching her I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side, enjoying the way she relaxes into me and fixing him with an icy stare that clearly indicates my displeasure.
"Are you alright?" I ask her quietly, pointedly ignoring the large human and the dark haired woman who I assume is his date.
"Eric." She says softly, watching my face with worried eyes. "This is my Great Grandfather, Niall . . . ."
I blink, and things start tumbling into place.
The arrogant, non-human, steps forward offering me his hand, a highly amused smirk on his handsome face.
"Brigant. Niall Brigant." He chuckles.
His eyes are dancing with mischief as I shake his hand, briefly, before I even realise what I'm doing. Almost groaning out loud . . . .
Her relative, her Great Grandfather, is not A Fairy. He is THE Fairy.
Niall Brigant. Prince of the Sky Fae. Emperor of the Realms. Defender of the Treaties. King of Faery. Keeper of the Portals. The Punisher. And so many more titles that I could recount if asked. As old, powerful and remorseless as the great oceans themselves.
Here.
Real.
The blood relative of the woman whose body my arms are suddenly circling protectively.
I do not know whether to laugh, cry, or simply fall to my knees and beg for mercy . . . .