Chapter 62: Take It Or Leave It

The Edgington Estate was grand, sitting on the very top of a hill overlooking ample fields of cotton that glistened silver under the moonlight. The King lived in an unusual plantation house that was breathtaking nonetheless. It was octagonally shaped, with tall brick columns, and bright white wood siding and railings. On the very top sat a watch tower with a byzantine onion-shaped dome that made up its roof, making the whole house look like a bizarre jewelry box.

The historical home was in pristine condition, much like any wealthy vampire would be expected to keep it. Even the beautiful wrap-around porch had floorboards that shined, without a speck of dust. Eric could smell the lovely scent of blood emanating from the house all the way from the driveway, its rich metallic taste was calling him. But none of those things about the Edgington Estate were what struck him first - or the most.

No, what intrigued him was the number of werewolves that made up his security detail. They patrolled the grounds during the day, and Eric had to exercise extreme caution while he scoped out the place in the woods in order not to be seen or scented. He couldn't imagine a world where werewolves were nothing but the enemy, but here they were - in fierce servitude to the Vampire King of Mississippi.

Eric returned at night, making his official debut about three hours after sundown. He drove his most expensive car past the iron gates, pretending to take in the beauty of the landscape as if he weren't casing the place hours earlier. Somewhere inside, Russell Edgington waited for him mostly out of curiosity. Eric had told the Mississippi King and Louisiana Queen he needed advice on how to put an end to his werewolf problem before it escalated. His made-up excuse was both a bore to his Sophie-Anne and stroked Russell's huge ego, who loved nothing more than to give 'advice' to anyone who asked or didn't. With this, Eric was granted passage to Jackson.

However, his problems with Alcide Herveaux and his pack were the least of his worries tonight. The naked truth was that Eric was here to commit treason against his Queen. He would tell Sophie-Anne about the Magister and tell her to stop selling blood, but not before assuring she would be taken off the board if she refused to listen. The Queen was going to fall, and he was not going down with her. Eric had far too much to lose.

He was being carefully watched by wolves, and they made no effort to hide it. When he approached the grand front door, the werewolf woman guarding it growled at him with all her teeth, and glowing amber eyes. He wondered if she knew Eric had slaughtered Patrick Furnan, one of the great Alpha wolves of the south, along with half of his pack. He wondered if the woman could smell their blood on his hands. He hoped so.

"Was that supposed to be intimidating?" Eric asked charmingly, unbothered by her show of hatred.

Before the were could charge at him, the double front doors suddenly opened wide, bathing the porch and the entire front yard in a nice warm light from a bright gold chandelier.

"Jannalynn!" A voice suddenly burst. "Where are your manners, you filthy bitch? Growling at guests? Gods!"

A handsome greek vampire, with perfectly coiffed waves in his hair and a dramatic three-piece suit appeared at the door. The werewolf recoiled and looked at her own dirty boots, like a bad dog who had been scolded. "My apologies, Mr. Northman, come inside, come inside," he said with big waves.

Eric nodded and entered the grand foyer that made the landing of his own house look quaint. Pamela would love this place, with all its opulence. Pristine cream carpet covered an elegant staircase leading to the upper floors, the walls were lined with expensive wallpaper and original classic artwork and every piece of furniture was worthy of a King.

"Thank you for welcoming me to the Mississippi Kingdom, Master…?"

"Angelis, but call me Talbot, please. No need for formalities, we are all friends here, right?" The man said, brushing Eric's bicep curiously.

It wasn't the first time he had been measured up like this, and he wasn't sure if he should go along or put an end to it. Usually, when a stranger is welcomed into someone's lair, they are assessed for their threat level, not their… Attractiveness. He decided he would use it to his advantage for now.

"I wasn't properly thankful for Louisiana's and Mississippi's long-standing alliance until now, yes," Eric smiled down at the man, who blushed with a grin. Flirting with men was so easy it was almost boring.

"Shall we sit while we wait for Russell? He's finishing up a phone call with the King of Japan." The man rushed him deeper down the foyer, towards an elegant sitting room, adorned with antiques, fine art, plush rugs and exquisitely handmade furniture. The aromas of blood grew stronger and were blended with sweet citrus and bitter almonds which awakened his appetite for something he knew was nowhere near this house.

But he wouldn't let that distract him from his mission. He was here to play the 4D chess of politics. The fact that Talbot referred to the King by his first name, and that he did not seem at all concerned with the dangerous fame Eric Northman carried told him this man was not the King's General or right hand, but his consort. What a strange thing to do, to let someone so precious walk around so freely around strangers. Perhaps the King trusted his army of wolves to protect Talbot Angelis, or he simply didn't feel for this man like Eric does for Olivia. Regardless, if this meeting went sideways, Talbot would die first.

"So, Russell tells me you have never been to our Kingdom. I can see why your Queen keeps you tucked away," Talbot purred the moment they sat down on opposite armchairs by the lit fireplace.

His use of the words our Kingdom did not go unnoticed.

"She keeps me occupied, yes. Area 5 is rapidly growing, as I'm sure you heard."

"Yes, yes! These are very exciting times," Talbot nodded, deep in thought. "Mayhaps she's keeping you too busy? What's the point of being a vampire if you can't… Indulge once in a while?" He said, glancing at his lap hungrily.

"My, my! My, my! Do my eyes deceive me?" A raspy but cheerful voice thundered across the room. Russell Edgington paraded into the sitting room wearing luxurious burgundy silk robes. He was a short man like Talbot and past his human prime, but make no mistake; Russell was one of the oldest vampires in existence, older than Godric even. "Is this the Great Eric Northman, the last Viking Prince in our midst?"

He hated being referred to by his old title.

"My Liege," Eric quickly stood on his feet and lowered his head politely, greeting the King.

He felt an immediate surge of energy fill the room. Russell Edgington was so ancient his power could be felt radiating from his blood just by being in the same room as him. It was somewhat Godric-like in intensity, but foreign and uncomfortable. It felt malignant. Perverse. Hungry.

Perhaps his carefreeness with Talbot wasn't stupidity - the King had been so powerful for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to have enemies strike. Eric reconsidered his plans - killing his way through war had always been his first instinct. Find the target, eliminate said target, and problem solved. But everything about this situation was unfamiliar to him. Eliminating someone this powerful was not an option. Eliminating Talbot wouldn't be easy. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to it. All he had to do was to successfully convince this King to eliminate his Queen.

"A Viking!" Talbot cheered, blushing even more. "Of course! How could I not have seen it? Everything about this body screams nordic warrior."

"You flatter me, Talbot." He smirked. Talbot also annoyed him.

"So, Mr. Northman, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?" The King asked, taking a seat on an antique settee across them. Eric followed suit, sitting back in his own wingback chair by the fire. "You wanted a lesson on how to tame unruly wolves, I've heard."

There was no easy way to bring up the topic of treason. "It's not the wolves in Louisiana that need taming, your Highness."

A dull silence fell into the room. Russell looked neither offended nor entertained. He suddenly snapped out of thought and looked warmly at his consort. "My dear Talbot, would you ever be so kind as to fetch us dinner? I'm positively thirsty."

"But-" Talbot started to protest, eager to hear the conversation they were about to have but Russell lifted a finger, forbidding him to.

Like a child, Talbot stomped out of the room cursing in Greek under his breath.

The King waited for a few moments more before addressing him again. "Colour me curious Mr. Northman, am I about to find out Sophie-Anne's best-kept secret, as to how she kept Louisiana afloat after the hurricane?"

Afloat was being generous. New Orleans had been the vampire capital of the world for centuries, even before Sophie-Anne became Queen. And now, even four whole years after Katrina, the city was a fraction of what it once was. She could blame humans and their lack of organization and rebuilding efforts all she wanted, but after the Grand Revelation a year after the hurricane, that half excuse only went so far.

Countless vampires died when their resting places were torn or invaded by humans looking for refuge. The survivors feasted on the flesh of the dead and the lost when the city descended into anarchy. The Authority was forced to step in, killing many vampires for breaking the old secrecy laws, and glamouring thousands of humans to forget. Hundreds moved away after their homes and businesses were destroyed. With fewer vampires in her home state, the Queen's tax revenue was slashed. When the Great Revelation happened a year later after Tru Blood was launched, the IRS caught up with her.

And now, he was here.

Eric wouldn't reveal his hand just yet. He wouldn't confess to selling vampire blood and implicate himself in her madness.

"She's completely bankrupt," Eric said point blank. "Her lavish lifestyle, her gambling addiction, and her total lack of smart investments or control of the local economy have made her vaults bone fucking dry."

Russell was swallowing a devious smile. "And?"

"Her incompetence disgusts me," he continued. Eric would have no problem selling this part because it was the truth. "I'm tired of bailing her out time and time again, and I'm sick of having to please her childish whims and watch her feed this blackhole that will drag everyone down with her."

The King lowered his chin, intrigued. "Some would say starting a war with one of the most powerful werewolf families of the south is a childish whim."

Eric scoffed. "Trust me, that's the least of my worries."

Talbot came back holding a tray of blood red cocktails, laying them on the hand-carved marble center table. The room became fragrant with the most delicate smell of rich blood.

"Freshly drained, cruelty-free. Our in-house humans have been fed nothing but clementines and organic almonds. Try it, it's delightful." Talbot cheered, being the warmest host he had visited in a long while. Well, the only host he's visited in a while.

"My lovely Talbot has become quite the blood sommelier," smiled Russell, taking a glass eagerly. But the King wasn't distracted by the alluring scent of blood that perfumed the room. He was studying Eric's face, seeing how eager he was to have a taste of what he sure would be the most indulging sip of the decade. You could learn a lot about a vampire by the way he controlled his primal thirst.

If only Russell knew he had a fairy-blooded human bonded to him for eternity. Clementines and almonds could never compare.

"The werewolf guarding your front door."

Talbot softly gasped, as if Eric had asked to drink vinegar instead of their finest wine. "That dirty dog? Goddess no, we-"

Russell frowned briefly as if he had circumvented some sort of test. "You hate them. The wolves."

"Hating them would imply I care enough to do so," Eric crossed his leg, mimicking the King's posture.

"Here, take a sip!" The consort pleaded, handing him a warm crystal glass. He politely accepted it and placed it down on the side table next to him, not even considering it. Eric's eyes didn't flicker away from the King. "It's AB negative based, very divine-"

"Nothing tastes more divine than satisfaction. I don't take disrespect lightly, Talbot."

"But-"

"Your Queen," Russell interjected, his eyes locked on Eric. "Has she disrespected you?"

He thought of that time Sophie-Anne lunged at Olivia and he almost ripped her arm off, realizing she had hurt her in the past. That time the Queen used his feelings for her to blackmail Olivia into feeding her own greed. How time and time again she had forced Eric to do her dirty work. She was so skilled at manipulating pawns on the board, but she wasted it all playing the wrong game.

"Her entire existence insults me."

Another long pause. No one moved an inch until Russell shouted deep from his diaphragm. "Jannalynn!"

Quietly the front door creaked open and the werewolf woman stepped inside, standing in the middle of the entrance door stiff from head to toe. The dog knew she was in trouble.

"Come," the King ordered without steering his gaze away from Eric.

In turn, he studied the woman's quiet approach. She had wispy short brown hair with amber eyes that still glowed and was petite in stature. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and she didn't dare look up from the floor. Every inch of her exuded hatred, and his mouth watered to taste it.

With her entering the cozy sitting area, the room should have started to feel crowded but it didn't. There was something about Russell's absoluteness that made her feel just a notch above furniture.

"I know you haven't come here to get advice to handle wolves, but aren't you even a little bit curious as to what I would say?" The King asked.

Eric chose his words carefully. "I'm curious as to how you have full control over creatures who hate you."

"Oh, don't tell me you believe that antiquated stereotype that werewolves are born hating vampires," he laughed. Eric did, however, believe that stereotype. He never saw anything to prove the contrary. "They don't hate vampires, they hate themselves."

He could almost hear the werewolf's jaw click at the insult. But yet, she did nothing. Eric had no clue what Russell meant by that.

"Show him, honey," Talbot said, taking a long sip of his cocktail.

"Alright," Russell made a pleased face. "Jannalynn here is one of my best generals. Absolutely vicious creature! A natural-born killer that would put Roman gladiators to shame, and I would now because I was there. Now, girl," the King turned to her, bringing his wrist to his lips. "You do know who our guest here is, correct?"

"Yes, sir," she answered immediately. "He's responsible for the deaths of my father, brother and uncle."

Responsible for. Jannalynn knew Eric was behind the deaths, but not how. This little trick up his leave brought Eric an immense sense of joy. The werewolf's wrath was justified, yet Eric did not feel a drop of remorse. He was only more thankful for Olivia.

"Very well. You may avenge your family and kill Mr. Northman, or if you rather not risk your own death, you may ask me to give him any kind of true death you wish," Russell nodded at Eric. The sentence startled him, but he waited. "Or you can have this."

The King quickly bit into his wrist, and crimson red blood ran down his hand and pooled into his cupped palm which he offered to his general. Jannalynn without any hesitation dropped to her knees and gorged on the King's blood. She licked his hand clean, drinking every drop of it like a starved animal.

Russell Edgington also used vampire blood for sin. Not in the manner of money, but by using its raw power to control werewolves. Eric watched it half horrified, at the edge of his seat.

Jannalynn could have had her revenge and killed him without punishment, or even enjoyed watching Eric die what he was certain would have been a very gruesome death. But instead, she chose the high of Russell's ancient undead blood, almost as if it were no choice at all. It reminded him of Debbie Pelt, who would mindlessly drink from Pamela on his back porch. She traded so much information on Alcide for it; she sold out and betrayed her so-called soulmate just for a simple taste of it. Now he understood it wasn't just Debbie's drug addiction. There was something more here.

Once Russell retracted his hand, the werewolf woke from her trance and gave him a disgusting look. It was the look of pure regret. She knew what she really wanted, but she betrayed it by the promise of holy vampiric blood. Her thirst was louder, stronger, and more absolute than all her grief combined.

"Back outside you go," Russell dismissed the guard dog.

The woman disappeared from the house quietly, her head hanging low in shame and self-hatred, not daring to look at Eric again. Werewolves don't hate vampires - they hate themselves.

"Aw, look how sad she is!" Talbot mocked her loudly, lips tinted blood red.

Once they were alone again, Eric was filled with questions. "You knew what she was going to choose."

"To them, it's not a choice at all. Our blood is like a curse, once they have a sip, it's all they can think about. I've been enslaving werewolves for centuries. I hope this helped your little conundrum."

Russell smiled gently, hand folded across his lap as if this audition were over. Maybe it was. Things became suddenly clear then.

"You are not overthrowing Sophie-Anne Leclerq."

"Not until you tell me why you aren't," his voice dropped all its charm. "Come on now, do you really think I've made it to almost 3000 years on this earth by being foolish? You don't need my help ripping her head off, especially when you have such a powerful day walking kill team at your disposal."

So he's heard about the Long Tooth Pack. Of course he had, he had infected Gods know how many wolves in Mississippi with his own blood, and Eric knew they made excellent spies. He probably knew the inner workings of the weres all across the south more than anyone.

"I don't want the throne."

"Why not? You have practically everything else."

Eric didn't want to confess his hatred for the Authority. Especially because he now carried a pang of unpleasant guilt with it, knowing his own Maker was a Chancellor. He didn't want to tell him about all the times his own father doubted Eric's abilities to make a good King, and if he failed it would bring dishonour to his ancestors. Eric didn't want to reveal that his kill team was only him and that he was a day-walking vampire. He didn't want to tell him about Olivia, and how the only vow he cared to honour was to protect her. No crown could give him that. It would just put a bigger target on his back. It would only put her at risk.

"There's only one thing that disgusts me more than Sophie-Anne," Eric reached for his glass of blood and took a long sip of the now thickening dark red liquid. The room hung in suspense while he savoured the crisp and sweet drink. "And that's who she answers to."

"The Authority?" Russell chortled. "Fuck the Authority. Do you think they'd approve of what I've just shown you? With their sacrosanct bullshit laws about the use of our blood?"

"Jorge Alonso would certainly brag about beheading you, I can tell you that much," Eric felt the momentary relief of speaking freely for the first time all night.

"Ah, the Magister is just for show. Me? I have an army. What's he gonna do? Take that away from the Authority? At the end of the day, all they care about is the bottom line. And their bottom line is power. A power that you clearly have and know how to use, but your woman-child Queen plays with like a toy."

"And toys break," Talbot smirked. "What a shame."

Dead end. Checkmate. Game Over. Eric swirled the glass in his hand, the bit of liquid left had fully coagulated so it spun like a solid in the bottom of his glass. No. He hadn't come this far to only come this far. The path ahead was narrowing down quickly, and he had a choice to make. Much like Jannalynn, it wasn't quite a choice he had the luxury to make. It was his only move, even if it was the riskiest one on the table.

"I have something you may want," Eric said, looking at the plasma seeping the edges of this crystal glass. Its lovely scent had turned sour. "A treasure a lot of people would kill to have."

"Well?" Russell asked. "No need for suspense, my boy."

There was no turning back now. "I have the Collector's vault."

It was a subtle confession that Eric had billed the famous William Compton, but a confession nonetheless.

"There is only one way Bill Compton would give someone his vault!" Talbot cried. "Why would you do such a thing?!"

"I'm a simple man, Talbot. You live in my Area, you follow my rules. He thought he was above them and paid for the mistake."

Russell laughed deep from his belly. "Oh! What a twist you threw into this evening, Mr. Northman!"

"This is no laughing matter, my love!" Talbot frowned. "Mr. Compton has acquired a number of my favourite pieces of this home, including our finest slaves back when we could have them."

Russell was still looking ecstatic by the hilarity of it. "You'll have to forgive my husband, he's quite fond of the Collector and his service."

"Many are. It would be a shame if his secrets were… To be lost," he grinned.

Talbot looked distressed, but he could see the greed in his eyes. The gold, jewels, lost paintings, precious artifacts, and books that held valuable secrets. All for the price of one head no one would miss.

Eric knew he could never handle Compton off to anyone. Not when he could blab about Olivia, what she was and what her blood could do. But Eric could dangle his house and all its contents like bait. The King's consort looked painfully torn by the proposition. Fight for his friend's honour, or take his treasures?

One thing was certain: he knew too much. When Eric got home, maybe The Collector would suffer an unfortunate alligator accident or be impaled by a tree branch during the next flood. Or maybe Bill Compton was the mastermind behind the world's largest illegal distribution of illegal vampire blood in the world, and Jorge Alonso had him beheaded faster than you could say oops.

"Hmmmm, what a curious proposition," Russell tapped his fingers together.

"The Collector's treasures and the Kingdom of Louisiana," Eric repeated, standing tall. "I can take care of the other Sherriffs."

"Are you sure of this, Mr. Northman?" Russell asked, also standing. "Are sure you are willing to kiss my ring and answer to a devil you don't know?"

"You are better than the devil I do."

His eyes glimmered, reflecting the dancing flames in the fireplace. "The riddle I can't quite solve is that you, too, have a vault full of secrets. There's something missing from this picture…" The Mississippi King wasn't quite as seduced by the promise of material goods as his consort.

"There is one more thing," Eric announced. This would be the hardest part, he knew.

"What is it, Mr. Northman?"

"Once you are the King of Louisiana," never mind treason. Never mind the crimes, the blood, the Magister. Forget all of it- "I want you to release me as Sheriff."

AN:

Woooo another favourite chapter for the books! One of you asked for Russell to be added to the plot and I made it happen!

This chapter is full of mystery and intrigue! Will Russell accept?

Will the Queen fall?

stay tuned and find out!

xoxo