Chapter 68: Reject All American

The only other person who might be a bigger workaholic than Olivia Carson was Portia Bellefleur. That woman did not fucking stop. They spent the rest of the week holed up in Portia's office, going through business structures, finding vendors and contractors while Portia wrote up contracts. Her printer was the third hardest working entity in this office, printing out NDAs back to back to back.

It was only now, in a brief moment of distraction brought by exhaustion, that Olivia noticed Portia was wearing yesterday's clothes.

"What did you do last night?" She asked curiously, before taking a large gulp of water.

Portia looked up from behind her desk. "Huh? Nothing, why?"

"You're wearing yesterday's clothes, I figured you were out having some scandalous fun."

"God, I can't believe I forgot to change," Portia leaned back in her chair looking at her blouse. The desk lamp gave her skin a pretty glow despite the tired look on her face. "And no, no scandalous fun for me. I actually stayed here and worked."

"On… This?" Olivia pointed at the scattered paperwork covering all the surfaces of her small office.

"Don't look at me like that, I know you work at Fangtasia after spending the whole day here. You and I aren't all that different."

Ouch. "At least I sleep in my own bed."

"At least you sleep," she chuckled, and it made Olivia smile. "But hey, I know you get it. You're the one who told me my career will never wake up one day and tell me it doesn't love me back. So I'm actually not missing out on anything."

Olivia kept drinking water, lost in thought for a moment over Eric's voicemail. He didn't tell her he loved her at all. She decided to change subjects. "I do get it. What I don't get is why you work so hard for vampires. Don't you want to be a Senator?"

Portia's eyes cut through the room. Did I tell her that? Portia asked herself.

Olivia almost rolled her eyes. Twice in a week? Goddammit she was losing touch with reality.

"For every politician that's against vampires, there are two secretly sponsored by the American Vampire League," the lawyer said.

It was actually really smart thinking and honestly, probably true. "So you're hoping the AVL scouts you?"

She blushed at the pages in front of her. "Well, when you put it like that it sounds childish."

"It's not. I think Nan Flanagan would like you, actually."

Her eyes went wide. "You know Nan Flanagan?"

Olivia would like to think she had made an impression on Nan by handing her the audio recording on the Newlins, but she had never seen or heard from her again. Considering the woman is the face of the vampires of America, it was probably a good sign she hadn't shown up since. Eric had been in enough trouble as it was.

"We met once."

"Oh wow-" Portia went still, imagining Olivia doing congress-style photo ops with the tall blonde vampire. Should I ask her to introduce me? Would it be too desperate, or too soon? I'm still a nobody.

Liv disagreed with her thoughts, but she was still taken back by her ambitions. This was supposedly the same woman who shook like a leaf being Eric Northman's date at the Truman Burrell Gala for a few hours. In retrospect, it was for the best that she had left early that night. Olivia didn't think Portia could have handled being in tabloids for days following that party like Willa was. If only Portia knew the bullet she dodged, shot by the very same people she wanted to impress.

"You really don't care that vampires will put you on the seat?"

Portia shrugged. "Sometimes the ends do justify the means. I know I'll be able to do good once I have power."

Olivia sat there, feeling the heaviness of those words, but guilt not letting them settle. She thought of everyone who had died for her to sit on that couch, at that very moment. Even if Portia didn't know the thick of it, she had to know Pam and Eric weren't exactly walking a straight line. Or that at least she'd have to get her hands dirty in some way or another if she climbed the political vampire ladder.

"What if you got blood on your hands? Would you say the same?"

Portia wheeled over to the printer without heaviness or discomfort. To the lawyer, the question was so purely hypothetical Olivia wondered if she did really knew what path she was walking on.

"You know my cousin Terry?" Portia asked, and Olivia nodded. He still worked at Fangtasia. Quiet man, good at his job, a bit fucked up in the head, but always on time. "He did one tour in Afghanistan and killed twenty people. Half were civilians."

"Jesus," Liv muttered, already afraid of where this was going.

"The Marine Corps gave him six different medals for his honourable service. If the United States of America can justify those means… Then I think you and I are good."

The nihilism slowly sunk in, drowning her guilt into silence. Liv was an expert at making excuses. Laundering money was merely breaking bureaucratic laws and was- more or less - a victimless crime. Selling blood was exploring the free market, and the war on drugs was nothing but institutionalized racism. But this… This was a new take. Maybe she didn't have to feel guilt for moving the post of what was acceptable just a little further.

Olivia had her own moral code and all she had to do was stuck with it. She liked Portia a little more.

"I'd introduce you to Nan Flannagan, but then who would be insane enough to help me open this Casino?" Olivia asked, only half joking.

"You're right," Portia gave her a shy but genuine smile along with a deep sigh. "Plus I'm too small of a fish in this pond. I'm just the lawyer of a few prominent Shreveport vampires. I have to gather some more experience working for vampire higher-ups before I start making moves."

Prominent Shreveport vampires? Oh my God - she didn't know.

"Pamela didn't tell you?" Olivia asked, surprised.

Portia's whole face frowned. "I'd rather her tell me nothing. Ever. But what is it?"

"You aren't just the lawyer to some prominent Shreveport vampires," her heart started beating hard against her chest. It was the first time she was going to say it out loud. "Portia, you are the lawyer of a Vampire Sheriff and the Vampire King of Louisiana."

Her blue eyes almost popped out of her face.

Gerald, who was built like a brick house, barely fit in his private jet seat. He was a longtime bouncer at Fangtasia and had been promoted to Sheriff of Area 4. His title upgrade also elevated his clothes, and she suspected he had gotten a Pamela makeover. Gerald and James sat at the back of the jet, telling each other stupid jokes in failed attempts to make Thalia laugh. But she just stared out of the window, her stony bored face didn't even flinch.

Felicity, who was a dancer at Fangtasia, was seated near the front, tenderly making out with another vampire named Taryn. She didn't know if they thought they were being inconspicuous, but they looked like horny teenagers left unattended. Pamela sat directly across from Olivia, talking on the phone in that familiar gibberish language which could only mean one very specific person was on the other side of the line.

Olivia tried to concentrate on the random English words she used sporadically to blatantly eavesdrop on whatever Eric was saying. They hadn't spoken since that night, and she was growing anxious about it. And so was Pam. Her face might not show it, but her nail polish was chewed to bits, and it wasn't because Fangtasia was closed on a Saturday night.

But it was difficult to pay attention with Portia blabbering about slot machine lease agreements next to her. She regretted bringing her into this already.

"Portia, would you mind getting me a drink?" Olivia suddenly interrupted. As much as she loved work and finding someone with the same drive, now it was not the fucking time.

"Are you sure? We're going to land in like 10 minutes."

Olivia stiffened her face. "Yes, I'm sure. Not all planes land."

It wasn't a lie. She was nervous, and she had been in a plane exactly like this one that fell out of the sky once, and she did want a drink after the week they had. But she wanted Portia to go away more.

"Err, sure. What do you want?"

"Bourbon, but not Jack Daniels please."

The lawyer awkwardly shuffled towards the front, gluing herself to the mini bar and avoiding Taryn and Felicity borderline trying to join the mile-high club. If she recalled correctly, Anubis planes didn't carry glasses, only mini bottles. Why, she had no fucking idea but it should keep Portia busy for a minute. Pamela caught her looking and said not one, but many sentences into the phone while staring directly into her soul. Liv couldn't help but think they were talking about her. Unceremoniously, Pamela hung up the phone.

"See something you like?"

"God, you are Eric's progeny," she rolled her eyes.

Pam smirked, pleased for having annoyed Olivia. "He says he will talk to you later."

"I assumed so. We are flying all the way to New Orleans to see him at his coronation, are we not?"

The Sheriff leaned closer, her elbows leaning on her knees. "No sugar, he meant later as in - do not speak to him during the coronation at all. Capiche?"

She frowned, eyebrows knitting together. "Why not?"

"The Authority will be there, it's complicated. Just be happy you're even there okay? Humans don't generally attend these things."

Olivia leaned closer, mimicking her. "What's really going on?"

Her eyes quivered for a second, and it was her tell. Something was wrong. And if Pam was anything like her Maker, silence was a bad omen.

"They only had scotch," Portia shoved a mini glass bottle of amber liquid in front of her face. "Is that the same?"

"No, it isn't," Olivia said, maybe a bit more sour than she'd have liked. "But it's fine, thank you."

Pamela sprawled back on her large seat, happy their conversation was interrupted with something far more interesting. She watched the only two humans in the entire entourage interact as if they were circus animals. Maybe to her, they were. Portia and Olivia were two trained human gals who did Pam's bidding exactly how she asked, when she asked. Like trained poodles jumping through hoops of fire. The little treat at the end was a shitload of money.

"So, what happens at a vampire coronation? I can't say I know much about vampire culture," Portia asked Pamela, and she could tell it took her every ounce of courage to even look at the vampire. To her credit, Pam was terrifying.

Pamela, however, didn't care for the small talk. "Oh, the usual. Men in robes, crown on a head, virginal ritual sacrifice."

"The what?"

Her voice sweetened with venom. "What do you think you're here for, sugarplum?"

Portia froze in the seat next to her, and fear screeched so loudly in her mind that if Olivia had heard it with her ears it would have physically hurt. Portia was a virgin when they met months ago, and Olivia was blissfully ignorant of whether or not that had changed. Either way, she never said a word about it to anyone. She wondered if Pam could tell, if by smell or by her general uptightness. Portia could be a little awkward at times.

"Pamela be nice," Olivia hissed before turning to Portia. "She's joking. I've asked you to come."

"Oh," Portia's face and neck went red and she tried to laugh, but it wasn't quite right.

"Now ain't that a riddle? Why did you tell her to come?"

"I'm Eric's accountant, she's Eric's lawyer. If I'm to be there, she should be too."

"Oh, so she's like you?" Pam grinned, studying Portia's bodily proportions, probably imagining Eric having his way with both of them.

"Not like that."

"Not like what?" Portia asked, not following. She knew a lot about law, but not a lot about navigating vampiric social waters. Olivia brought her along to see if Portia would sink or swim. And with vampires, she'd find out quickly.

"Portia wants a career in politics. I don't want the attention and you don't want to do it. We might as well bring her."

"Suit yourself, but if you cry you're fired," Pam told Portia, then laid back on her seat scrolling her phone, bored again already.

The scotch burned nicely all the way down, and it wasn't that much later when their jet landed at the small private airport in New Orleans. Thalia shrieked when the wheels touched the ground, which everyone took notice of. James and Gerald almost exploded holding back laughter, but ultimately did not make fun of her. But her guess was that it wasn't out of kindness, it was more like neither would live much longer making fun of her.

Felicity, Taryn and Portia exited the plane first as the pilot opened the door and extended the staircase down. Through the windows she could see a surprising amount of other private jets on the ground, people deplaning and entering limousines and luxury SUVs on the tarmac. Trolleys of coffins were being moved, along with copious amounts of luggage. The small bustling crowd outside without a doubt consisted mostly of powerful and elite vampires and they were all here for the same reason: Eric Northman's coronation as the Vampire King of Louisiana.

Pamela covertly held her arm, letting Thalia, James and Gerald pass them by and leave as the second wave. The two of them shared a brief moment alone as they slowly walked out of the plane.

The vampire's voice was barely a whisper into her hair. "When he's sworn in, he will have to kneel to the Authority."

Was that what she was so worried about? "And?"

Pamela shot her a look that made her heart jump to her throat.

"Eric kneels to no one."

Her blue eyes were filled with a moment of fear and with a blink, it was gone. Pam walked down the steps and out of sight as if she had said nothing at all. But they both knew it wasn't nothing. If Eric doesn't kneel to the Authority and swear his fealty, they will kill him. But Olivia found herself biting back a smile, knowing that Eric had indeed kneeled to one person.

Her.

The palace was full of guests once again, but the air was filled with a different energy entirely. People talked politely over the live orchestra. Every gown and tux more extravagant than the other. Olivia had no time to shop nor was she up for another Pamela makeover, so she added a faux pas to her list of crimes: she wore her Jason Wu emerald green dress - the same one from the Burrell Gala event. Outfit repeater. Gasp.

Olivia kept her hair down in soft curls and wore her Van Cleef & Arpel snowflake earrings for the first time. They were ones her Mexican cartel boss had given her after he shot her coworker's brains out in front of her. This time, she wore them with no guilt. Plus, where else would she wear a 200 thousand dollar pair of earrings if not at a vampire coronation?

She quietly observed the guests, treasuring the mental quiet of a crowd of vampires. They curiously appreciated the new art on display and sipped on flutes of fizzy blood, waiting for the main event to start with a buzz of unusual excitement. The guests in turn, also observed her. Their curious glances and peeks were well noted as she passed them by.

Tonight, the palace looked different. There was less furniture, everyone was appropriately clothed and there was no depravity, at least not in public. Several of the art pieces hanging on the walls had been changed, and new pedestals with precious trinkets dotted each room like an exhibit. People gathered to look at Vermeers, Cezannes, and historical artifacts which filled her with another strange sense of Deja Vu. Hadn't she seen these before? They certainly weren't Sophie-Anne's. Ultimately, she was just happy humans weren't being used as entertainment for once.

She watched Pamela talking to two vampire men, most likely a couple. She smiled and her eyes twinkled, not showing an ounce of nervousness. Although she was merely another guest here, she carried herself as the hostess of the event. Olivia didn't think she could help it.

Portia and Felicity were in the main hallway talking to a middle-aged vampire and her human consort, one of the very few humans in attendance. She strangely wore a Venetian mask, adorned with golden feathers, which Olivia found curious. Who was behind it? And why did she wear it?

The lawyer, surprisingly or not, was networking all on her own. It made her oddly happy. She didn't even seem nervous about Felicity shadowing her every move, ensuring that no one would glamour state secrets out of the King's lawyer.

Olivia roamed the palace in circles trying to avoid the main ballroom where Eric stood on a dais at the dead center of it. The platform was a bit redundant since he was already taller than everyone else. People came to his feet to greet him and bow, but she couldn't hear what was being said from across the room. All she could do was look at him - and he wasn't bad to look at. Black suit, black shirt, black tie. Fresh haircut, a bit shorter on the sides. Clean-shaven, striking and powerful. Breathtaking.

Following her every step was Gerald. He was her escort for the evening. Olivia couldn't be glamoured, but no one needed to know her small little secret, not even her guard. He wore a midnight blue velvet suit that certainly clashed with her emerald dress. He was bald and had a serious but pleasant face, despite not being conventionally handsome. Perhaps the guests watched this strange duo walking together. The King's accountant being escorted by this brick wall of a vampire was maybe bizarre. And who knows what Gerald was known for.

"Did you make Thalia laugh yet?" She broke the monotony of their silence.

"I don't think she knows how," he shook his head. "Where's your little sidekick?"

"Mingling with guests, same as me," she turned and nodded at the corner Portia was in.

He chuckled. "You're not mingling with anyone. All we are doing is circling that dais like a shark watching prey."

"I'm not circling anything," she refuted immediately.

It was true she wanted to speak to Eric more than anything. But she had stupid orders to strictly not do that, for whatever fucking reason. And worst of all, she didn't even know what she would say.

Congratulations on becoming King?

Thank you for saving my life?

I'm sorry if you did all of this for me, but I cannot in good conscience love you back because I made a plan and without it I am nothing? And I feel horrible and selfish because I know I can't possibly choose between you and my mother, despite swearing to myself that I would be there when she passed because I didn't get to say goodbye to my father? And I'm sorry that this is all so stupid because in the end I know I'll lose you both and end up alone?

Forever?

"Yes, you are," Gerald insisted. "We walked this entire floor twice and not once you got close. Is he mad at you or something?"

The memories of all the times Eric had told her he would never be standing there. His biggest fear was people approaching him and saying long live the King. It broke her heart into a million pieces that this was probably exactly what the guests were telling him. Power is a prison, he told her. And he walked right into this gilded cage, willingly.

"Hey, where is James?" She changed topics quickly before guilt exploded right out of her.

"Mingling," he said with a dirty smile.

Olivia did a quick scan of the room and realized James was nowhere to be seen. Which only meant he was in a dark corner somewhere, probably not alone.

"Do you trust him?"

"Depends," he sighed. "With my wife? No. With my money? Also no. With his job? Absolutely."

She didn't exactly know how to take this. There was something blatantly untrustworthy about him that warned her to run. She thought merely having her drive places to be suffocating. Maybe it was his vague resemblance to Eric, or how James was rudely shoved into her life following what she had done. Perhaps he was just too painful of a reminder of who he replaced.

"Then why isn't he the one accompanying me tonight? Isn't he supposed to be my security detail?"

"Olivia," Gerald's eyebrows rose. "We are all your security detail. Thalia, James, Pamela, me, Chow, Felicity, Taryn."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"We have been, for months. Eric put us on rotation. When you're not at Fangtasia, you sit at home, eat dry cereal and watch a lot of trash TV until late at night. You're kind of boring."

"I-" she was unsure which part she was about to deny next.

When she wasn't working and committing crimes, she was kind of boring.

Olivia got used to being watched; she knew Bobby and Samuel split the day shifts. And she knew of Thalia because she practiced tai chi in her backyard. Chow had told her he hid in the neighbours' trees. But it had been a long time since she stopped looking out the window. And she had no idea how many people were involved or realized the efforts Eric made to keep her safe. She felt her heart being squeezed to death.

"Chow should be here," she said quietly and took a long sip of her champagne.

Before Gerald had a chance to reply she caught a glimpse of a ghost among the crowd. He wore a perfectly fitted charcoal tux and stood perfectly still looking at a jewelled Easter egg on a dark marble pillar.

"Excuse me," Olivia said suddenly and made her way to the familiar man.

She crossed the room, cutting through the crowd in a zigzag trying to lose her escort. It wasn't until she was steps away from him that she realized what he was looking at. What everyone was looking at. The art, the ornate vases, the jewelled pieces scattered across the room, the taxidermied Layla dog, the rare scriptures, she had seen them all before. These were the Collector's famous items - Bill Compton's most valued and rarest treasures, up on display for everyone to see. These were the King's treasures now, and the Collector's demise was the invisble crown jewel of the exhibit. This was Eric's way of telling the world that no matter how powerful and influential you are, you were not safe from him. His entertainment wasn't a demonstration of the power he had over humans.

It was his way of saying look how I have power over you.

"Olivia," his silver eyes found her first as if he knew she was coming all along.

"Godric," she smiled. "It's good to see you again."

There was a slight hint of a smile on his beautiful handsome face. She saw Gerald approach, following her with an annoyed look on his face. Once he set his eyes on Godric, he took a small bow and disappeared through the crowd. She had no idea the two knew each other.

The boy offered his elbow to her, and she hesitated for just a moment before taking his arm. She was in his hands now. The two roamed the palace quietly, Olivia was distracted from Eric for the first time all evening.

"I think about the night we've met quite often," he said out of the blue.

Olivia noted how the crowd parted for them. It was now more than just the curious glances she had gotten all night. People didn't just know who Godric was. They seemed to fear him. And call her stupid, but Olivia was never afraid of him. Not once.

"It was certainly more eventful than I'd have liked."

She had found him locked in the basement of the Fellowship of Sun Church in Dallas, only to discover Godric wasn't a prisoner at all. She witnessed the tense reunion between Eric and his Maker, and a vampire party celebrating the Sheriff's safe return, then being bombed by a religious terrorist. She also talked him out of killing himself. Olivia had no idea which of these parts he thought about though, nor did he elaborate.

"Pamela tells me you are a Chancellor now. Congratulations."

He nodded, looking her in the eyes. It made her shiver. The memories came rushing in now, the conversation they had in his back garden at the edge of dawn. She quite fervently told him to live and make amendments and that dying would not atone for his sins. Was that what he did? Did he seek a higher position of power to make a difference?

"I believe I wasn't exactly forthcoming with you that night," his voice was smooth and quiet. "It wasn't just humans I've hurt in the past two thousand years. It was also people like you."

She felt cold and hot at the same time. What the hell did he mean by people like you?

"It was centuries before Eric was even born, and I still remember the scent of you," he said.

"I don't-"

His voice dropped. "Before the portals closed."

Olivia's arm slipped out of his embrace and the two faced each other closely in the crowd.

Portals. He knew.

Her mind replayed what it could from that night. Godric knew what she was from the moment he first set eyes on her in the Fellowship's basement. He knew all along, before Eric or herself. It made her rethink every interaction they ever had, and suddenly he didn't seem so inoffensive anymore.

"You told me you wanted to drain me."

"I could have."

"But you didn't. Why?"

"Because I could smell Eric's blood in you. He doesn't give his blood to just anyone."

It felt like 10 lifetimes ago, but Eric did force-feed her his blood at the Carmilla hotel the two nights before she found Godric. Olivia scoffed. "The circumstances were a bit different at the time, Eric had to contractually protect me."

"Does he still have to protect you now?" His eyes flickered for a moment, insinuating Godric could still smell Eric on her.

Her skin went several degrees hotter. "I do know his bank account numbers. So yeah, it's probably best."

Godric held back a full grin, and his smile was beautiful but now it made her nervous. They were interrupted by a beautiful tall vampire, with big round blue eyes and glossy brown hair wearing a high-neck black gown with a floor-length lace cape. She carried a long brown leather sheath with a polished gold tip. When Olivia looked at the other end, at the large adorned hilt, her heart stopped.

She had seen this sword too, but it did not belong to Bill Compton's Collection.

"Chancellor, as you requested," the vampire did a small curtsy and presented the sword to Godric with both hands.

He accepted it with grace, nodding and holding the weapon with natural ease. There were symbols etched on the pommel, three long parallel lines with symmetrical dashes crossing them in a mirrored pattern. Snakes intertwined all across the hilt and guard. She didn't have to see the rest of the sword hiding in its sheath to know what it looked like, or hold it to know its weight. She knew that sword. Her eyes were fixed on it, air trapped in her lungs and she felt her heart pulsing everywhere. She didn't even notice the vampire who brought the sword to Godric leave.

"Is something the matter?" His voice brought her back to reality.

"What does it mean, to dream of receiving a sword?" She asked suddenly.

The universe wasn't telling her, it was screaming at her that this was a sign. A sign of what, she did not know but was now determined to find out. Olivia had asked Eric at the lake about the significance of him giving her a sword in her dreams and all he had said was I don't know, but I like that you dream of me. Now she knew that there was no way in hell that he wasn't lying.

Godric gave her an odd look, the same one Eric sometimes gave her and she couldn't decipher it. It was strange how Godric, Eric and Pamela were born centuries apart and held no genetic connection whatsoever, yet they were all so alike.

Olivia looked at the sword once again. Even the sheen of it, the way the light caught on the golden tip. She could barely believe her eyes.

"Some say dreams show your deepest desires," Godric said, holding the sword between them. "Do you desire this sword?"

"In my dream, Eric gives one to me at a beach," Olivia couldn't help but want to touch it, to see if it was real or if any of this was just another dream.

But she didn't want to tell Godric it was that specific sword she dreamt of, out of fear he would think that she was insane.

"Swords are used to take unbreakable vows. To give someone their sword is a Viking custom of marriage. They are pledging to protect you until the end of their days."

The words hit her like a semi-truck. Marriage? Marriage?! Since when her deepest desire was fucking marriage?

She thought the room was spinning for a second. Olivia had a hundred questions, and all she really wanted to do was run to that dais and yell at Eric for lying. Again. But why would he? And over something so silly? Why did it matter? She could feel her frustration showing on her face. Couldn't he be forthcoming just fucking once?

"If it eases you to know, I don't think the dreams you are having are quite your own," Godric said, bringing her attention back to him. "Now if you excuse me, I believe it's time for the ceremony."

Godric simply walked away, this time towards the center of the ballroom. To her, the room was still spinning. What the hell did that even mean?

Everyone took notice of the young Chancellor approaching the dais. The room got fuller as and the voices slowly hushed through the palace. She saw a tall tower of blonde suddenly appear next to her, Pamela gave her a proud look. The Sheriff of Area 5 looked stunning, in a red ball gown and big Texan hair curls. She was truly the princess of the south.

The room was now completely silent. All eyes were on Godric and Eric standing up on the black velvet-covered dais. There was no throne or crown, but the title of King may as well make you God.

"Who do you choose as your right hand, your second in command, your sworn shadow from this day to the end of your reign? The one whom may never ascend to the crown?" Godric asked.

"I choose Thalia as my second in command," Eric announced.

The entire room clapped politely. Pamela froze for a slight second before joining the applause. Eric did not choose her to be at his side. If she was upset by it, she didn't show it. Thalia emerged from the crowd and approached the dais.

"Thalia, do you accept your title and forgo all claims to any throne forever after?" Godric asked her.

"I do," she curtsied briefly.

Next to her, Pamela's face was void of emotions. Olivia noticed a few glances their way, from guests who were surprised by the choice. Liv didn't know how these choices were made, but Sophie-Anne had chosen her only progeny Andre to be her right hand. Has Pamela known about this? Why had Eric chosen Thalia, of all people, Liv had no idea. She had no idea of the rules of this game at all.

The King's right hand blended into the crowd once again, and all eyes were back on the King and Chancellor.

The boy unsheathed the sword, which gave Olivia goosebumps from head to toe. Everyone witnessed Eric kneel at Godric's feet. Olivia wondered if Eric would have done it if it were anyone else from the Authority standing there. Godric sat the sword on Eric's shoulder, right at the corner of his neck. Its blade was right against his skin.

Godric leaned forward and silently whispered something to the Viking, something that was for his progeny's ears and his alone.

Eric's gaze then shifted diagonally, straight toward her. He didn't have to search for her in the crowd, he knew exactly where she stood. Something cold and hard grasped her hand - it was Pamela squeezing it tightly. Olivia wished she had gone to the dais and said exactly what she was too afraid of.

Every inch of both women was knotted with fear of not knowing what was about to happen. Everything hung in the air. Liv knew Eric didn't really want to do this, and it broke her inside. It broke her that her choices put him in this position. His eyes went back to Godric. She may have imagined it since the movement was so minute, but she thought she saw him nod to his Maker.

The Chancellor spoke loud and clear, this time for all to hear. "By the power invested in me by the one true Vampire Authority, whose wisdom and justice we hold sacred, I hereby pronounce you, King Eric Northman of Louisiana."

There was a small pause before the King spoke. Eric looked up at Godric as if there was no one else in the room.

"I pledge my fealty to you for as long as I walk this earth, and I swear it upon The Blood."

The crowd erupted in applause and cheer, Godric removed the sword from Eric's shoulders and he rose from the dais looking victorious. Pamela clapped proudly, showing more emotion than she ever knew was possible. Olivia applauded hesitantly, scanning the faces in the crowd. Maybe people were blinded by the monumental importance of what they had seen, but no one else seemed to have noticed what for her was obvious. Maybe Pam was too happy and proud that everyone now saw her Maker the same way she did - as a King. Or maybe people here just didn't know Eric like she did.

Eric's vows were unbreakable, it was part of who he was at his core. But he didn't pledge his fealty to the Authority. He pledged himself to Godric, and those were two very, very different things.

Closing in at midnight, it was one of the few establishments open in this dingy corner of Shreveport. The streets were dark and deserted, and it was particularly quiet since Fangtasia was closed for the evening. The only cars on the lot were covered in a layer of dust, forgotten. The Soap Opera dry cleaners had dirty windows and a half-burned-out 'OPEN' sign at the door, giving it a very unwelcoming aura, as most money laundering businesses tend to give.

He entered cautiously, feeling the hair on the nape of his neck rise with adrenaline. For all he knew, this could be a trap. The air was full of heavy unnatural scents that immediately assaulted his sensitive nose. Inside, there were dead plants on the window sill, a bookshelf full of belts and shoe polish supplies next to a decades-old veneer counter full of receipts surrounding an old computer.

Alcide approached the counter and lightly hit the service bell, its ringing pulsed to the back of the store. He couldn't see past the curtain of clothes hanging on the conveyor racks, but he heard the creaking of an office chair and the shuffle of dress shoes on concrete.

Emerging from the cheap plastic bags, came out a pale man with over gelled black hair. A dead man.

"Pick up or drop off-" the vampire asked, his eyes twitching at the sight of him. The scumbag recognized Alcide immediately.

There was a long pause in which neither of them moved or spoke. The more he looked at the vampire, the more he felt disgusted by him. His putrid smell, his ill-fitting clothes, dirty fingernails and his overwhelmingly punchable face.

His voice was raspy, annoyed. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"I'm not here for you."

Alcide had dug deeper and dirtier than ever, looking for pieces of a trail long buried. He was back in the DEA after his bereavement leave, although the ice he walked on was thin, as his supervisors still suspected he was secretly chasing vampire blood. Alcide would never forgive them for being so easily bought.

On paper, he was working on diversion control - looking for people reselling or manufacturing prescription medications. A fun trivia fact about dealing vampire blood - they cut it with blood thinners and alpha blockers to extend its shelf life. Follow the sketchy buyers of these medications, and you get yourself a drug dealer who will eagerly snitch on their superiors in exchange for less time in jail. Tail old as time.

Except Alcide couldn't find anyone. In fact, he couldn't find a single trace of V being sold on the streets of Shreveport or any surrounding cities at all. But he smelled it everywhere around him. He smelled vampire blood in the college football jocks from LSU. He smelled it in young couples at the grocery store. He smelled it on the popular, confident assholes cops that spent too long at the water coolers, bragging about the women they slept with. No matter how hard he chased, the only drugs crimes he could find evidence for were linked to his own fucking wolf pack. Being the Longtooth Alpha leader was driving him to the brink of insanity. Outlawing criminal activity should have been cut and dry, but leading them was like herding cats on cocaine riding Harley Davidsons. However, in a night of almost punching the lights out of a piece of shit wolf selling heroin to teenagers, he gave up a name - Anthony Grey.

And Alcide realized he had been going about this all wrong.

"I can't be seen talkin' to you," the vampire looked as if he were about to break into a sweat. He didn't know if vampires could even do that.

Alcide approached the counter and tossed an old jacket onto the visibly worn out surface. Debbie had gifted it to him three years ago at Christmas. It never fit him, but he never seemed to will himself to get rid of it. "Then don't be."

They both knew of the chances they were being watched. If Eric used Grey as an asset, he most likely would be tracked in some way or another. Alcide had to look like a paying customer. The three 100 dollar bills he slipped with the jacket helped.

"What do you want?"

"Eric Northman."

Anthony scoffed with a hint of disgust. "Good luck with that. He ain't Sherriff no more, he levelled up and got outta here."

So the rumours were true. Eric Northman had taken oout the Vamp Queen and crowned himself. Did he do it out of greed and ambition, or out of fear? And why now?

"Who's the Sheriff now?"

"My mother," he spat. "I ain't no snitch."

Alcide had a thousand questions for the vampire, but he knew time was of the essence, and he had to spend it wisely. Mostly, to convince him to talk in the first place.

"I know he sent your car to the compound," Alcide said and watched the man's hands ball into a fist. "What did you do Grey?"

"Fuck you," the change of tone in his voice was obvious.

Something unsavoury had happened between the vampires. Well you roll in the mud with pigs...

"Consider me as his payback."

Alcide had it, he almost had it.

"Listen, if ya wanna go after the King of Louisiana, it's your fucking funeral. But I ain't going with ya."

"What if I guaranteed your safety?"

The rest of the conversation would be pretty standard. He wasn't interested in any felonies this dead fucker was up to. He had bigger fish to fry. And honestly, the thought of taking out the King of Louisiana himself brought him a flavour of joy he had never thought possible. The higher they go, the harder the fall.

"I ain't a narc!"

"But you are a little bitch! Doing his fucking bidding and then tossed the fuck aside," he growled.

Grey looked up and down at him, his top lip quivering to show his fangs. "I don't snitch on my kind on a good night. But snitch to a dog? Get the fuck outta here."

That is exactly what Alcide wanted to hear.

"What about Olivia Carson?" He asked, and Anthony's eyes got darker. "Would you snitch on her?"

AN:

Two updates in ONE month? You guys are going to be spoiled.

This was coronation part 1 completed! There will be part 2 next chapter hehe

But that ending thooooough? It's time for reckoniingggg

Also, many many thank yous to Melusine10 who helped me immensely in figuring out my remaining half baked plot

As always: favourite, follow and comment below

loves ya