AN: Hello readers! I've been remiss in posting, and for that I apologise, a lot has gone on in the last few months - life is definitely a rollercoaster! But I'm back and hoping to not only complete this chapter - updates yay! - but also post a few more. I have no excuse really, I'm stuck on a train for the next few hours with nothing to do but type. Please feel free to review, let me know where I am messing up xD I'm my own editor, so please excuse and continue to excuse typos. I'm a little rusty with this story, so please also feel free to let me know if I'm getting confused as I fiddle about. I will end this tale :)
Chapter 7 – E Lucevan Le Stelle
Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d'amore.
(Forever, my dream of love has vanished.)
L'ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato!
(That moment has fled, and I die in desperation!)
E muoio disperato!
(And I die in desperation!)
E non ho amato mai tanto la vita...
(And I never before loved life so much...)
Puccinni (Tosca) – E Lucevan Le Stelle
It was a rare and terrifying breath of cold air when Eric Northman, Southern Vampire King and Lord of the Bijou, dreamt whilst dead to the world. Often people wonder what happens when vampires camp down for the day, but it is commonly believed, quite wrongly so, that they literally die for the day. Nothing moves, and the breath stills like the day we all one day greet. They are no longer of this world, and human's have many varying notions of what any other plain may appear to be. The truth, though quite dull, was that they were asleep. It is only through force of habit that many vampires breath, what with the being undead factor to their magical existence, so when sleeping their mind adopts an almost whimsical drop of all pretence, as if the vampire's body was free to be it's natural state. Eric could not recall if he had ever dreamt before the night he found his soulmate. He had always been quiet minded, even when alive, and was very rarely plagued by his subconscious when awake or asleep regarding what he needed to do to survive. But, on the night he was first burnt by eyes of burning hazel, beautiful orbs tattooed in his minds eye. He could not fathom a world wherein these eyes did not exist, and cursed the fates that he had not discovered this world sooner. He woke from his nightmare clutching his chest, as if he still had a heartbeat, and felt the cold, sluggish fall of tears drip onto his chest. Memories of the dream, and what had caused such a frightening occurrence, swam through Eric's mind as he replayed the reasons for his disquiet. This wasn't the first time of recent he had dreamed of anything at all, his sleep had been met by the peaceful silence, and he was sure this would not be the last until he saw those eyes again.
Ten Years Ago
Eric Northman had, of course, been less than thrilled at the plans laid before him. He would have been more impressed if at least another zero was on the end of the figure scrawled lazily across the cheque, and the blueprints were incredibly asinine. He thumbed idly at his diary for the next month and sighed. There was nothing in particular that drew his attention to the world, not even the idle wittering of his wife with the foreign vampire, in this exquisite example of baroque splendour of an office, trying to assimilate a deal to provide military aid in exchange for land, money and influence. Eric and Freyda had somehow managed to live through this not too tedious marriage, and were now the strongest vampires in the United States, and across a lot more of the globe besides, but he still felt compelled to pull away from his wife. She was ambitious, ruthless, decisive and strong, an ideal mate for life. But he did not love her. In fact, he wasn't even certain he liked her. If he was honest, he never had. Some days he felt pangs of guilt and loss for Sookie, but he knew she was much happier where she was. Sam was good for her, she was too good for him, but they were the best fit as a couple. Eric could never give her what Sam could, Eric knew and had accepted this. In truth, he was envious of it and he would have given up everything to be to Sookie what Sam had been all along. Good enough.
Eric could not excuse his love of Europe, he had always wanted to return as it held the most culture and enlightenment, from the smoke and lights of London to the sensual, sweeping curves of the Seine, he breathed Europe in with gusto whenever he returned. Of course, America had all it's merits, and it helped that a foreign twang always impressed the average American girl into a state of pre-orgasmic trepidation which made for all the more succumbed a donor. But Europe still held such mystery to him, and was wrought with that mysticism that seemed to beckon to a vampire's soul, if they were still in possession of a soul. Eric picked up his glass and swirled the ruby contents languidly, throwing a glance at the graceful vampire beside his wife. Romane Effitiere exuded a calm and confidence that provided incite into his age as a vampire, it was clear he was as old as Eric and Freya, potentially older, and had the look of one who had been milk fed as a youth. Romane turned then to give Eric a piercing look, his dark eyes seemingly starring through Eric's very body and finding him wanting. Romane was aware of the ruthless and powerful nature of the vampire's with whom he had set court, but was not overly interested in what they wished to bargain, just as Eric was unconvinced in the cause that Romane had incessantly drawled on about as an introduction to this tenuous meeting.
"I work on behalf of a powerful being, one whom would wish to set the world to a new order, one focussed on power and purity. The vampires of my clan in France have joined him in his wish to conquer wizarding Britain, and we will aid him as he moves towards the rest of the world. His vision is of a land where only the purest of bloodlines dominate, and are left unsullied by the interbreeding that is currently taking place. With this in mind, he has promised us that we will be acknowledged as a species by all, and the transition 'into the light', as it has been so eloquently put by your Americans, will be one of ease and acceptance. We will also be given hunting privileges openly, to have the ability to court and feed from the human, non-magical populace that the call 'Muggles'. He extends this offer to the Americas, of course..."
Romane's voice had trailed off and Freya had began with her line of questions, at which point Eric had zoned out completely. These regimes never worked, or worked for a short period of time. He had seem them over the years coming and going, leaving destruction and carnage in their wake. Eric knew, too well, that throughout history the inevitability of failure always left the losing side branded as 'the bad guys', and he had worked hard to improve his public image to a point where he was no longer considered a bad guy. Of course, he had done this for one reason only. For Sookie. But that did not mean he wished to unravel all that he had achieved for some lunatic with a twisted vision of reality. Freya seemed keen to speak with him alone, and excused them both from the parley, guiding Eric seamlessly to the rooms adjacent to the beautiful chambers.
"So, what are your thoughts, as my consult?" Freya eyed Eric with suspicion, she was not sure the Viking would respond, as she honestly was not sure he had been listening. To her, this scheme of Voldemort's sounded outlandish, and she knew that Romane's clan had become mystified by the empty promises of a madman, but she needed to know Eric was on her side. She needed to be sure that she was right. As a relatively old and ferocious vampire queen, she knew her way through the mire that was politics amongst the magical races. She had, in the past, supported a similar wizard, Grindelwald, only to be thrown under the proverbial bus the moment he began to lose. She would not subject her people to that again. But she needed Eric's support, as she knew this was not going to end in a clean fight.
"Why is it that, although we are a long living race that see what human beings do to each other, we still become bewitched with the thought that we will be given everything we desire without paying a price?"
Eric looked nonchalantly at his long and dexterous fingers before looking up to see that knowing look in Freya's eyes. Thank goodness, he thought, she feels the same.
"I agree, I do not wish to align myself with the losing side, not again. We both have too much to lose. Eric?" Freya's voice became soft and questioning, to the point of almost pleading, a tone he had never heard from her before.
"Yes, my queen?" Eric inclined his head and moved closer, placing his forehead on her's to allow for an open channel of communication that they both knew the eavesdroppers could not hear.
"I need you to promise me that, when this is done, you will find out who the winning side will be and join ourselves to them. There is a war coming, and we will either be eaten alive or we will be victorious. I opt for victory, never again will I chose to fight alongside a deranged wizard, or man, with disillusions of grandeur."
Eric simply nodded against her. He knew where this was going, he had seen the signs as he entered when there was no others present except their host. This was a do or die situation, and he and Freya would be lucky if they left with just doing. He flexed his shoulders and both straightened up, curtly nodding at each other before re-entering the room wherein Romane sat calmly, both hands folded in his lap, a smile plastered to his insipid face. Eric scowled, thinking that he hated being underestimated, especially by one who had not done sufficient research into who he is. He had advised against Freya's visit, but she had been insistent. Deep down, Eric honestly believed she had tired of this world, but to simply give oneself over to the true death was an act seen as cowardice to those who had lived as long as she and Eric. No, she wanted to go down fighting, an attractive element to her character that Eric sympathised with.
"I am afraid, Romane, that the offer is simply not what we as part of the American Vampire's Association are interested in taking up. We decline your interesting offer." Eric gracefully stood to leave, offering his hand to Freya, who seemed unsettled when taking it. As she stood, she wobbled, a sight Eric had not witnessed before, and he quickly manoeuvred to catch her as she lost her footing. A wicked smirk crossed Romane's lips, which Eric clocked out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored this to attend to Freya, who had turned an odd shade of bruised, the frailty of her touch making Eric pay closer attention to the room around him. The once uninhabited room seemed to be moving in it's darkest corners, and Eric's fangs slowly slid out to bare themselves as he held Freya close. Lowering his voice and placing his lips close to her ear, he muttered, "Can you fight?". The look in her eyes as she turned them to him spoke volumes, and he watched as they pleaded for him to run, but Eric Northman never ran from a fight, even if it were his last. He braced himself, holding Freya up to give the illusion that she was disaffected. How could she have been so trusting as to actually drink from the proffered cup? Eric never drank during meetings such as these, he had learnt his lessons and imparted these to Freya on multiple occasions. Her feelings of invincibility were always going to be her downfall, and he knew, without having to ask, that she had been poisoned by something he neither understood or recognised. This did not bode well.
Eric turned his eyes to a grinning Romane, who had also chosen to stand, his hands behind his back in a clear show of triumph. Eric admired the smugness of the man, who would have showed the same level of cockiness had the situation been reversed. However, Eric saw the fatal flaw in this plan, and returned the triumphant smirk, making Romane falter in his internal congratulations. Eric knew that, if this had been reversed and he had been Romane, the one thing he would never ever had done was back Eric Northman into a corner for him to fight out of. Freya had gone limp in his hands, and he watched as her skin began to peel from her body at an agonising slowness. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled, like she accepted her death willingly, and Eric took that as his signal to strike. He lay her down like a fine piece of silk, careful to ensure her comfort, and pulled himself up to his full, impressive height, pulling out his shoulders and flexing menacingly. Beneath the fresh pressed Italian suits, the expensive finery and the well maintained mane of hair, he was still a Viking, born during the height of a roaring storm, bane of his enemies and legend. He rolled his neck from side to side and removed his suit jacket, never taking his eyes from Romane, who appeared to have lost his previous smugness and also seemed to be backing away, his small and spindly frame no match for the giant at full flex.
"I don't want to know why you thought this was a good idea. But I want you to run and tell your Master, that snake tamer, that we do not respond well to threats. This action you have taken will have it's revenge." Eric quietly spoke, his hands together also behind his back as he very slowly and deliberately stalked forwards. He met Romane, and saw the fear in the vampire's eyes. Old he may be, but he was still a pup compared to Eric, and Romane had known this. It was clear he had hoped his ruthlessness would impress Eric and bring him on board. Instead, it only mad Eric angry. This had taken a very negative turn and, without another word, Romane signalled to the shadows.
Eric expected vampire guards, some form of Were muscle, something he could tangibly access. Instead, the very room began to writhe, like a leviathan waking, and from the very walls shadowed figures rose and screeched like banshees. The beaut of the room was now shrouded in the shadow creatures, all of whom were screaming and floating through the air with a sense of purpose. They were covered in long, black cowls, covering their faces, but the atmosphere in the room shifted with their presence. Eric recognised them vaguely, something he had read about many years ago. He looked around the room for an exit, and spotted the doors leading out being unguarded, he started to make his way towards them. However, he suddenly felt like he did not have the will to run, to survive, something he had always held dear. He felt cold, lonely and, for the first time in his long life, completely helpless. The creatures closed in on him, and he felt again the cold fear of loneliness grip his heart. An ethereal hand came from the cloak of the closest creature, and he suddenly lost all light. The hand beckoned to him, and he tried to fight, but the sadness sweeping across him was strong. This magic was strong, but not strong enough to sway the vampire. He tried to grab the hand as quickly as he could, tried to get a hold of at least one of them, but his attempt was fruitless and he was left, fruitlessly gripping air. Darkness began to swarm him and he resigned himself to it, embarrassed at the ease with which he was giving in to these emotions. He barely noticed the strong arms around his waist, or the rush of wind as he was pulled away. He felt a pull from the proximity of the creatures, the strength of which slowly subsided with distance. He was suddenly being bundled into an Italian sports car, the make and model he failed to recognise as he tried to regain himself. His mind felt fuzzy, like he had woken up after a particularly indulgent night, and he rubbed his temples as he listened to the engine spring to life. The driver's head was facing away from him, and there was no reflection to help him work out his saviour. It did not take long, however, for them to make themselves known.
"Now, what the fuck have you got us into, and why the fuck do I always have to be the one to save your ass?" Pam's southern drawl echoed in his head, and it took all he had not to wretch. As she turned to look him in the eye, to check he was safe, Eric felt swathed in black and, although he would never admit this to anyone else, he felt himself hit the back seat with a very uncouth thud as he passed out, dead to the world.
Present Day
Eric pulled himself from his memories, checking the time before settling once more into a lifeless sleep. If it had not been for Pam, he couldn't even begin to consider what mess he would have found himself in. His final resting thought, before returning to the bliss of oblivion, warmed him, for the events that followed marked the dawning of a new era, one where the tide was quickly changing. Vampires were out and free to roam across the globe; the wizarding community was showing signs of potentially considering doing the same (or at least they were going to talk about it for another ten years and then change their minds...wizards really did have little in the way of backbones, in his opinion), Weres were out too, although their reception was no-where near as pleasant. As Bob Dylan said, the times they were a'changin'.
Although he knew he was still technically on the outs with one of the oldest vampire families in the world, he also knew he would be able to claw his way back into their favour, though laying low for a while would probably help. But how could he? How could he when he knew she was out there, waiting for him? It would have been a moments decision made on the whim of his second in command that could have kept him unaware, in the dark, with no knowledge of who she was, where she came from, her courage, bravery, beauty. Eric allowed his eyes to pop open, taking in his surroundings once more and deciding that perhaps this day was not meant to be slept through. Padding around his blackened rooms, he finally came to rest at his desktop, firing up his laptop with a heavy sigh.
The luminescence of the screen cast an eerie shadow over his naked torso, paling him even further. He checked his emails, noting a few from his newly acquired associates in the Magical Creatures Council, a pretentious group of busy-bodies in Eric's honest opinion - except one of course - who were hellbent on creating 'harmony amongst the magical community' following the defeat of, as Eric always enjoyed referring to him in company as, 'The Snake Guy'. He couldn't blame the youth for trying to right the wrongs of their ancestors, but the preaching and the obsequiousness of the campaign had much to be desired. And that was where Eric came into play. As a front runner for the vampires leaving the crypt and stepping out into the big, wide world, like reformed alcoholics on a Hen Night, Eric knew how to open the hearts and minds of the masses...physically and commercially. He had been drafted into this adventure, was committed to offering his assistance reforming a society he had very little to no real interest in, all as a result of Pam. Pam and her inability to follow basic instructions...