Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cars were backed up along the narrow desert road in a mile of headlights. No one sitting in traffic had come for New Mexico's famous cotton candy sunsets. The sky had long since faded into a carpet of stars. Entrance into the park was at a slow creep.  Security was extraordinarily thorough. Vehicles were checked – sometimes twice. Badges were inspected. Purses and coolers roughly searched. The American Vampire League's Annual Desert Jamboree was the most acclaimed social event of the year. It was one of the few public affairs where human and vampire celebrities could rub shoulders, hobnob, and trade business cards.

Out of the coffin but still incredibly elusive, tonight was an entirely unexpected opportunity for Rosalyn Murray to meet one of the most influential Vampire Americans in the country. A colleague had managed to score her a ticket and a meeting with Nan Flannigan herself. Her appointment gave her exactly fifteen minutes to persuade Ms. Flannigan that the AVL should back her vision of national education reform. As an activist and educator, Rosalyn wanted to help vampires pursue university schooling if they so chose. To do that, she needed the AVL to lobby Congress for better loan and funding opportunities. Currently, only humans qualified for federal aid. Contrary to popular belief, not all vampires had vast, unimaginable wealth. Many were quite poor and rampant discrimination made securing a degree and a job difficult. She had exactly fifteen minutes to try to change the world for the better.

Inside the AVL's private tent, much to Rosalyn's relief, her presentation went fairly well. Nan appeared impressed with her proposal, albeit noncommittal. Ros was given the contact information of a lobbyist in D.C. and she left with a watery assurance that Nan's people would follow up. It seemed promising, but the mountain still lay before her. Rosalyn banished the fluttery anxieties in her thoughts. She wanted to relax and enjoy this infamously bohemian party. By all accounts, tonight was supposed to be something between Burning Man and an Oscar party – glamorous but intimate, a little (or very) shocking, and most definitely entertaining.

Booths were set up in orderly rows around the main tent. The tent was unpleasantly packed with people. Rosalyn avoided it in favor of the marketing displays, where she soaked in enthusiastic pitches about vampire businesses or the latest vampire-friendly products. Several eager reps tried to give her flyers or goodie bags, but she politely declined. Beyond the main drag was another row of stalls full of carnival games and rides. She leaned against a railing to watch a merry-go-round with its woozy music and undulating horses sparkling with mirrors and gaudy glass. Further down the line, she bought a sugary confection and then purchased a billowy silk maxi dress in a shop selling imported trinkets and other exotica. The elderly man who took her money was kind enough to let her use a makeshift dressing room in the back to change. She tucked the pantsuit she had been wearing in a plastic bag and her waist thanked her for being freed.

Toward the edges of the fête, the throngs of people thinned out. Ros appreciated how casual folks seemed there. She joined a group listening to a drum circle. The spectators lounged about on benches and blankets, chatting to each other or dancing to the pulsing, punctuated rhythms of the djembés. Several men made shameless passes at her and she ignored them impatiently until they gave up and wandered off. For the most part, it was hard to tell who was vampire and who was human. Rosalyn liked that. Here, in this austere place transformed by lights and sounds and smells, people could just be together. No labels. No rejoinders.

Ros was suddenly distracted from her thoughts by a boy. In a sea of laughter and smiling faces, this boy – a handsome young man really – sat by himself at a distance from the revelers, eyes vacant, shoulders slumped. He was eerily still and though his mouth was sensually curved like a bow, he was not happy. His whole being seemed clouded with an aura of discontent. He glanced at a tall blond man passing by. The blond was dancing with a bottle of Royalty Blended in each hand. For a second, Ros thought she saw something change in the young man's appearance, but it was gone in an instant.

Without thinking, she pushed herself off the ground and went to him. Hopping onto the boulder where he was perched, the crunch of loose gravel under her hands announced the intruder to him. He did not react to her presence, so she turned to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice thick with concern. He barely moved a fraction in acknowledgement of her. Ros placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. The cuffs of his white dress shirt were neatly rolled up to his elbows. He balked, stunned at her audacity, at this transgression. He looked at the offending hand in horror, but could not find the right words to explain it. "You don't want to be here," she said. It was not a question.

He did not so much as blink in response. She ran her hand up and down his arm several times, spreading her heat and scent over his forearm. The young man stared mutely at her hand, bewildered that a human would dare touch him so freely. He should be furious. He tried to remember why that was the case. "You did not care for it when those drunk men invaded your space," he finally said. It came out a little more coldly than he intended.

"You saw that?"

"I see everything." I have seen everything, he seemed to say.

"Hmm. Could have fooled me. He's the only thing you've noticed all night." She jutted her chin at the blond, who was surrounded by a throng of guests vying for his attention. Somehow the disheveled bow-tie unfurled around his collar only made him more attractive.

"Looks can be deceiving," the younger looking man replied cryptically.

Ros did not really know much about vampires, but she knew enough not to assume. "He is yours?" she guessed. The slight press of his lips and a passing flicker of pride in his face was all she needed for confirmation. In spite of his studied mask of indifference, he could not suppress what Eric was to him.

"A son," she wondered aloud, appreciating the magnificent specimen in the crowd. He was gorgeous, nevermind the pink stain of spilled blood that striped his shirt.

The vampire next to her narrowed his eyes. "You are observant." He did not say 'for a human,' but he might as well have. The words stung in her ears, unspoken.

"I am going for a walk. Join me, if you like." She slid off the rock and dusted off the bottom of her new dress.

The invitation was jarring to the boy. Wrong. He suddenly connected his piercing gaze with hers. "I am the most dangerous thing in North America." It was meant to be a threat. It was probably true. And he said it with a soft-spoken voice that was more than a little tragic.

Ros put her hands on her hips. "Oh? Well. I'll be safe from the scorpions and other critters then." She gave him a pert smile and started off alone into the desert. There was already a considerable distance between the din of the party and herself when she began to think he would not join her. He chose that exact moment to materialize at her side. "Took you long enough," she said, trying to hide the start he gave her. "Let's go as far as that rocky outcrop, yes?"

He cocked his head. "You're not afraid to go off alone with a strange vampire?"

"Not any strange vampire," she retorted.

He stopped dead in his tracks, wary of a trap. Still, she smelled clean – no trace of silver or wood on her, no scent of vampire other than his own on the palm of her right hand. "Do you know me?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

"No. Do you know me?" she replied haughtily.

There was no hesitation in her response, nor did her heartbeat speed up. She was being honest, the boy reasoned, if not incredibly naive. He did not know her. He could leave now and never know her. Part of him wanted to take her out into the desert and hurt her, perhaps push her down into the sandy ground just to prove a point. But then he was not sure whose point it was. The thought filled him with shame. He turned towards the place she had chosen in the valley and inhaled a slow, measured breath. They were upwind. Nothing in the air indicated an ambush. They would be alone, together.

"Fair enough," he sighed.

Rosalyn snatched up the young man's cold hand and started off. He stared at their joined limbs in disbelief, allowing himself to be led forward. Predator! he shouted at her in his mind. She merely looked back over her shoulder at him with a kind smile. "C'mon!"

They walked in companionable silence, although the steady sloshing in her veins and her deep breaths of the cool, arid night were noisy to him. After a while, she dropped his hand and threaded her arm through his elbow instead. He supposed it must be more comfortable for her. It was not altogether unpleasant for him. "There are coyotes there, maybe a half mile northwest," he pointed out. He knew she could not see through the inky darkness. "Shall I protect you from them?" he asked, the slightest bit of a wry smile snaking across his mouth.

"That depends,"she whispered playfully. "What are they plotting?

"Nothing. They are sleeping."

"What are they dreaming, then?"

At that, his smile grew, ribbon-like.

The underbrush became unexpectedly thick and prickly. Rosalyn gathered her skirt around her tanned thighs and tied it into a knot. "Here," he offered, putting an arm under hers to help her hop over an especially nasty bunch of cactus. He kept track of where she had touched him, where he had touched her. Mentally he composed a cartography of scents mingling and exchanged. She of rosehips and mirth, he of vetiver and time.

"Sorry. I didn't think it would be a challenging walk." She tread more carefully than usual, concerned she might scratch her ankles and accidentally provoke her companion. They reached the rock formation. It was taller than they expected. The smooth planes of the rust and red stone were still hot from the sun. Ros pressed her face against its windswept surface, stretching out her arms. He imitated her in curiosity. The warmth seeped into his skin and he decided he liked how embracing the earth felt.

They meandered the area, exploring. She found an abandoned bird's nest and they peeked on tiptoes at the forsaken speckled eggs. He found a geode broken in half, revealing the violet crystal structure hidden inside. He gave her one half and she slipped the little treasure into her bag.

The moon continued to climb high into the sky, flooding their private canyon with gentle light. The young man was examining the contours of the rock wall when Ros was struck by his alarming beauty. Her heart must have faltered, because his head snapped back in her direction.

"Do you like music?" she asked.

"Some of it. I don't really care for loud things."

"No, I don't suppose you would." She pulled out a shiny rectangular object from her purse. "Would you mind?"

"It's a cellular device?"

"Yeah, but it plays music too." Rosalyn called up a Van Morrison song. Carefully, she put the phone into his shirt pocket. The oxford cloth was immaculately pressed, but had orange dust smudges from where he had leaned against the rock. She brushed at them lightly, tidying him. Where the white fabric pulled against his muscular shoulders, she could see he had tattoos. She wanted to know, but could not imagine asking. "Will you dance with me?" she asked instead.

"I don't know the steps."

"Sure you do. We'll make them up. They're right here." She pointed to his chest.

"You must know that our hearts do not beat. Nor do organs contain human passions."

"I wasn't pointing to your heart, silly."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Traditionally monsters are thought not to possess souls."

"It's also a tradition that most people are total idiots, my friend." He snorted a laugh and pulled her easily into his arms. They swayed lightly to the music, spinning each other before settling into a slow rocking rhythm. Ros rested her head against his shoulder and sighed with a hum. "You're very old, aren't you." It was not quite a question.

He hesitated before nodding, his chin brushing in her thick chestnut hair. The woman's rich and heady aroma flooded his senses and he could not quite will himself to block it out. They danced to several more songs, all of which were older than she by years. He was musing about possible reasons why she carried around music from the early 1970s on her portable telephone when the last song ended and she pulled away.

"Thank you." She curtsied playfully. "Thank you for sharing with me."

"My lady," he replied solemnly, bowing deeply. He questioned what he had actually shared with her. What had he given that merited thanking? He wanted to give her a compliment, he decided. Something honest and true. "Your eyes are very beautiful. Like they snatched a rainbow right out of the sky. I think you have every color in there." He leaned down to peer into them. She blushed and looked away, nervously tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She did not know that he had been rolling that tendril between his fingers as they danced, rubbing her oils into his skin so her natural perfume would stay there for a week, at least. He wished he could better put into words how she appeared to his preternatural vision. 'Prismatic,' he was about to say, but she spoke first.

"Your eyes are like sage brush or the sea. I can't decide which," she said.

"Sage brush?" He had never heard eyes likened to shrubbery before. He considered the idea and decided that he liked it. Sage was sacred. Hardy. Aromatic. It was ancient and found virtually everywhere. It was even useful to humans.

"Yes, like sage I think. But your skin is even more striking." She boldly ran her fingertips down his arm. "It's opaline. Luminescent. Like it is made of the moonlight itself."

He shaded his gaze behind heavy lids and thick lashes. His skin was increasingly translucent, more truthfully, and every vampire who recognized it for what it was regarded him uneasily. "Sorry," she said. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

"No. It's just…I have not fed in a very long while," he admitted impulsively. He could not say why he felt compelled to share such a deeply private thing. As soon as the words passed his lips, he regretted them. Now she would be fearful of him as she should have been all along or – he shuddered – she would proposition herself like a blood whore and it would ruin this strange encounter for him. Either would certainly spoil whatever fleeting appetite he barely felt.

It came as a surprise when she did neither. The woman started hunting about until she found a spindly patch of poppies. "May I?" she asked him, bent over her knees.

"May you what?"

"Pick this?"

"Why ask me?"

She wrinkled her brow in thought. "Well, for one, I think it is illegal. Or maybe that's just in California? But more because it is yours."

"Is it?" he said with a breathy laugh, perplexed and fascinated by her.

"Of course. You are part of all of this." She gestured to the expansive vista, then to the canopy of sky overhead, "This…wonder." She closed her eyes as if she could feel it. He shrugged, unsure.

She snapped the flower at its base and returned to him. A slight breeze twisted her hair around her face. She replaced her phone in his shirt pocket with the yellow blossom, patting it in securely. "There you go. So you remember."

He caught her hand before she could move, trapping it over his silent chest. Over the place where she accused him of having a soul. He stared for a long moment at the delicate curve of the petals and then at the delicate curve of her mouth. He had assumed she would pluck the gift for herself. He could not remember the last time someone gave him something so simple. So necessary. "Together we flow into the mystic," he whispered, recalling the lyrics of her old music. He brushed his lips over her knuckles, leaving the ghost of a kiss there. She broke into a smile that reached all the way to those entrancing hazel eyes.

"See? I told you that you weren't seeing everything." She gave him a teasing pinch on the chin. "You should press it in a big book of poetry when you get home. That way it will always be in bloom."

"Does it have to be a book with poems?"

"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure it does. Otherwise it loses its magic." She winked.

"Witch," he teased.

"Mage," she retorted. He rewarded her with a shy, lopsided smile that erased the millennia from his haunted gaze. "We should probably get back, huh?" She gently extricated herself from his grasp and turned to leave.

He hesitated. "Wait," he said. In a blur, he was standing before her once more. "Did you truly want my company? Such that it is?"

She wondered how someone could be simultaneously so earnest and yet apologetic. "Of course. It was perfect."

"May I ask for something in return? You are not obligated to say yes."

"Okay."

"May I have the honor of drinking from you?"

She took a step back. "I didn't come out here for that. I mean, I'm not that kind of woman. I've never even done that before."

"I know. I can tell. It is why I ask. You are the only reason I would even consider asking."

She fiddled with a tassel of her purse nervously, a bevy of questions swirling in her mind. "You know, there are a lot of crummy people who come to this thing hoping for exactly that sort of experience."

"Why do you think I was so miserable."

"Well, I think it is more than that, but I see your point. I only came to ask for the AVL's support. They are interested in my activist work."

"Oh?" He considered mentioning that the AVL was a sham - an organizational front in no way connected to their real politics. He would decide later, once this had played out.

"Yeah. I'm trying to help out young vamps."

He laughed. "And the elderly as well, it would seem. So? What do you think about giving an old man a much needed pick me up?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Errrr…Well…"

He shook his head, chuckling at himself. He never quite pulled off such hammy flirtatiousness as well as his child. He tried a different tactic. "You know, in the old days we didn't stand around arguing with our meals, asking them what they wanted." He took a step toward her, straightening his posture and allowing his ancient omnipotence to roll off him in waves. It was a power play, executed with supreme dexterity.

She swallowed thickly. "And how, pray tell, would you have done this back in the old days?"

"I could tell you. Are we doing 'this' now?"

"I don't know. Answer me first."

He gave her a heated look and his pupils flooded open, hungry. It was by no means a simple task to allow her to truly see him but restrain his influence. He did not want her glamoured. He wanted her. Raw and uncomposed.

He stepped even closer. "In the old days, I would have pushed you against that canyon wall and fed from you, deeply, trapped between the chill of my immovable flesh and the heat of the sun still set in this valley's stony bones. I wouldn't have asked and you wouldn't have thought to say no." He traced a finger down the throbbing pulse in her neck. A trail of gooseflesh rose in its wake. "And if you were receptive to it – and you would, I think, have been open to the idea – I would have taken you, roughly, until there was no more pleasure to be wrung from your gorgeous, tight little body."

"I would have been caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak," she managed to say between shaky breaths.

"Mmm." Her teasing loosened something in him he had not realized was coiled so tightly. He was suddenly conscious of how absolutely ravenous he felt. She bit her lip nervously, unaware of how much this excited him. Her movement invited him closer. A nagging thought told him he was getting dangerously carried away, but he snapped it away.

Yes, his whole body screamed. Give into it; chase this feeling down. Feast upon it! The idea throbbed in his throat. He could not tear his eyes off her and his desire ached in tune with her pulse. He quickly allowed it to win. Oh yes, he wanted her, he decided. And he would have her, thrumming. Into him, onto him, over him, out of him.

She raised an upturned wrist – an offering with consent. He shook his head slowly. "Not there." His nostrils flared widely to better draw her aroma deep into his chest. Inhale, exhale.

They stood so close they could feel each other's breath. Hers warm, his cool.

'Where?' she mouthed silently, eyes wide.

"Oh, look!" he said in surprise, pointing to something behind her. She went to spin around and he struck. He was so fast she barely registered the movement. She cried out in shock. She felt nothing but him. Cool lips and tongue and blunt teeth kissed and sucked and scraped at her throat. It was the pleasure of a lover's mouth.

"Oh!" she gasped.

He wound his fingers in the ends of her hair and tugged lightly, arching her back and forcing her chest against him. She groaned unwittingly, melting into his embrace. He was everywhere, caressing her hair and her curves and her face. All too soon he withdrew, leaving her breathless. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, letting two fingers fall over the tiny wound, compressing it.

Her vision was hazy with lust and her lips were parted, all too tempting. He stole a searing kiss, discovering her hot mouth with long, desperate passes of his tongue. She returned the kiss just as feverishly and when she bit his lip and moaned, he actually went weak in the knees.

"You taste divine," he confessed.

"That can't have been enough," she panted into his mouth.

He leaned back to see her more clearly. He licked his lips with an impish smile. "Oh, I'm not finished." The words zinged through her, electrifying. She let her head fall back against the hand that braced it and she closed her eyes. He struck the wound again, this time with more force. As he did, he pinched a nipple through the gauze of her dress. The sensation distracted her brain, drawing her attention away from the inevitable sting of his bite and confusing one touch for the other.

She laughed in realization. "Mmm, you are good, mister!" She slid her hands into his hair, loving the roll of his head as he ravished her.

He let out a rumbling chuckle into her neck, feeling more like himself than he had in ages. "Yes, I am," he boasted, keeping a tongue pressed against the punctures. He toyed with the beautiful marks he had made in her skin, letting her blood flow down her neck so he could lick it in long stripes. Each time, she reacted. The kisses set her body alight in a bonfire of erotic tension.

Altogether too indulgently, he deepened the bite a smidgen more and sucked hard, drawing in a mouthful of blood. He held the wound closed while he leaned back and slowly let the fluid glide down his throat in a thin trickle, savoring the pleasure of it for as long as possible. He was reluctantly sealing the wound with his saliva when she laughed. "When did we end up on the ground?" He looked around, baffled. He was flat on his back in the dirt and she was astride him.

"Haven't a clue."

"I thought you said I would be the one being pinned down?" she teased.

"Impertinent wench."

"Wild satyr!" she shot back.

He lifted her to her feet and dusted her off, giving her backside a swat for good measure. She twisted out of his light hold and skipped off to retrieve a shoe that had fallen off, forgotten. They made their way back to the gala hand in hand and were nearly there when he halted and spun her to him. He inspected the bite mark he had left on her, running his fingers over the twin dimples. It was already starting to bruise. "Does it hurt?"

"It's fine. It's kind of tingly numb."

"It will be dark purple by tomorrow," he lamented. "It's how I feed." He had never been one to ram his massive fangs in people and slurp his meal down in one go. He liked to play, using only a fraction of his fangs' razor sharp length. There was more finesse to it and certainly more pleasure to be gained by prolonging the experience.

"Well," she shrugged. It seemed pointless to worry about it now. "Everyone has a style, no? Yours definitely works."

His face darkened. He did not like her words. He did not want to think about other vampires' disgusting habits and her. "Never let anyone else drink from you," he told her. She scoffed. He took her by the arms. "I am serious. Promise me. I want it to only be me."

"Hey! Jealousy doesn't suit you. Come on."

He swallowed, unsure how to explain the anxiety he felt. "Promise me. And while we're at it, don't you ever go wandering off alone with a vampire again. Never." He gave her a little shake to punctuate his point.

"Seriously?" she said, astonished.

"Promise!" he ordered.

"Fine. I promise."

She did not understand him. He had to make her understand. He panicked. "I want to heal it," he blurted out. "Let me heal it." He sliced his tongue and was kissing her throat before she could respond. Before he could register his own actions. Before she comprehended the claim.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, both stunned by the other's behavior. He did not let go of her hand. At the edge of the party, he kissed her shoulders and her sweet mouth one last time. "Thank you," he whispered. His cheeks were flushed pink and it made him look deceptively young.

"Anytime." She nuzzled him with the tip of her nose and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Be careful what you wish for, as they say."

She smirked and straightened his flower, relieved that it had not been too crushed in their fun. "Don't forget. A big heavy poetry book."

He nodded. "So it is always in bloom."

She left him with a wink and a toss of her hair. Moving through the crowds, she passed by the tall blond. He was no longer double-fisting expensive drinks. He now had two women, one tucked under each arm. She did not see the blond's head snap in her direction as she walked by, or how he dumped the women to the ground as he whipped to his feet. They both cried in protest and one angrily splashed her drink on him with a curse.

Near the main tent, Rosalyn picked her way carefully through the throngs of people, avoiding the shadows where the party had grown a bit louche. For some reason, several of the vampires she walked past were weirdly twitchy and quick to step out of her way. Her fingers automatically went to the vanished spot on her neck and she pulled a curtain of her hair around to cover it, just in case. She could still feel his mouth on her and it brought an irrepressible smile to her face. She might be grinning like a loon for weeks, she reckoned. She was almost to the gate when a massive figure materialized before her, blocking the exit.

"Excuse me," she said. She looked up to see the hulking blond. His brow was deeply furrowed and he looked her up and down gravely, searching. He went to say something but was at a complete loss for words. He reached for her, but retracted his hands, leaving them hanging awkwardly mid-air. "I said excuse me."

"Whatever you're paid I'll double it. No. I'll triple it," he said.

"Paid?"

"How much does your agency pay? I'll give you whatever you want if you come to Dallas with us."

"Agency?" she repeated, not understanding.

"Donors Anonymous? Elite Bite?" he guessed. She shook her head, confused. Realization hit him full force. It was not just his maker's scent all over her. The blond smelled a trace amount of his maker's blood. And her blood. Mingling. In a flash, he flipped the hair away from her neck. He blinked once, then twice, in stunned recognition. "How…"

"You're not making much sense, buddy. Maybe you've had a little too much supermodel tonight."

He ignored her and pressed his large hands together in a plea. "Please. Whatever you said, whatever you did to get him to drink. Please tell me."

"We just talked. Not about that. About other stuff."

"And then he fed. Just like that?"

"Sort of. You live in Dallas? Christ, that's probably part of the problem."

"Wait, he told you he hasn't been eating?" he asked in utter disbelief. He shook his head in astonishment and threw his arms around her, trembling.

"Ow!" she gasped. "Let me go! You're squeezing too -" She thumped his back with a fist.

"You are literally my favorite breather in the entire world. Gods, woman. Thank you."

"You're welcome, I guess?"

"I am in your debt. On my honor, I swear it." She had no idea that his word was his bond. He started to explain when something distracted him in the crowd. "Shit. Here, quick, before he catches me. Give me your number."

"Why?"

"Godric is terrible about phones. He refuses to have one."

"Who is Godric?"

He dipped down to inspect her pupils, expecting to see remnants of a glamour lingering there. He found none. Only clear, unusually pretty hazel eyes. "Oh you have got to be…this is perfect. Just perfect! Are you telling me that you managed to convince him to feed after nearly a year of starving himself and you didn't even bother to ask his name?"

She looked sheepish. "It didn't come up."

He was ready to rip his hair out over his maker's antics. Of course Godric had chosen some equally maddening woman. Like two peas in a freaking pod. "Let me guess: he marked you as his and didn't even worry about getting your number."

"Marked me? No, he healed -"

"Give me your number, woman!" he barked impatiently, throwing a glamour into it. The information tumbled out of her and he typed the numbers into his phone with lightening fast thumbs. "Name?" he glanced up, still holding her in his thrall.

"Ros. Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray."

"Fantastico." He released her from the compulsion. "I'll have Godric call you soon."

"Okay. That would be nice." She hitched her purse on her shoulder, ready to get out of the desert and into the clean sheets in her hotel room. The hulking blond was already strolling back into the crowd when she remembered something. "Wait!" she called out. "What's your name?"

He spun wistfully on his heels and came to a stop with a little hop. "I am Eric Northman, Son of Godric and Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five, at your service." He bowed, arms held wide. Then, in a flash, he was gone, vanished into the sea of party-goers. The goofy smile returned to her face again with full force, so insistent it hurt her cheeks. Yes, that smile would definitely be there for a while.

Chapter Text

Godric stared at the swirling ripples his toes spun out across the pool’s surface. He sat at the edge of the diving board, uncaring that the cuffs of his pants were soaked. The opulent tile room was lit only by the underwater pool lamps and his movements sent chaotic ribbons of light dancing on the ceiling overhead.

“You are hovering, Eric.”

It was not untrue, Eric knew, but he was not sure what else to do. He had come to Dallas nearly every chance he could escape work. This was the third time this month. Each visit he had invariably found his maker lost in thought, contemplating the wood grain patterns on a table or the shadows cast by a flickering candle. It was not that Godric was neglecting his duties as Sheriff; he simply engaged nothing and no one in his free time. Occasionally, Eric caught him with one hand resting over his mouth, gently inhaling a now long since faded scent. At least then he could hazard a guess at where the Celt’s inscrutable mind had wandered.

Eric avoided the topic altogether. He could not even begin that discussion now if he wanted. He tried to ask Godric the night after the gala. His maker had responded by raising a single, terrifying finger in warning. The threatening gesture was accompanied by a shock of command so ferocious that Eric swore it was still ricocheting through their preternatural bond. It left him chilled to the very bone. Henceforth, he had no choice but to stick with safer conversational terrains.

“I need your input on someone who’s moved into my area.” It was not a lie, but it was also clearly an excuse. Godric sighed and got up sluggishly from his perch. He took the file in Eric’s hand and walked past without looking at him.

In the mansion’s massive oak paneled office, Godric flipped through the various papers half-heartedly. He paused over a section of the residency application before continuing. It was the same bit of information that also gave Eric reason to doubt the subject’s honesty.

The blond waited patiently, studying the room’s décor to pass the time. Though his maker and his small retinue had occupied the estate since assuming control of Area Nine, the place had remained virtually untouched. The previous sheriff had held some bold and downright questionable Texan aesthetics. After four years, however, it was beginning to irk Eric that his maker had not refashioned the house to his liking. Or more to the point, that he had not ditched it altogether. The community’s need for reassurances of continuity had long since passed. The area was one of the most stable in North America and Godric was, not surprisingly, revered and staunchly defended by his subjects. Now the outdated and ugly schema just seemed offensive and at odds with the quietly extraordinary vampire living here. Perhaps Eric would arrange to have it conveniently burned to the ground the next time the residents were out of town. It would not be the first time he had taken fire to one of their domiciles in order to solve a problem.

“I’m surprised Isabelle hasn’t redone this room.” Eric winced at the grotesque stuffed elk head looming over the oversized fireplace. Its beady glass eyes did nothing to lend it a simulacrum of life. “It’s absolutely dreadful.”

“What makes you think Stan isn’t the in-house talent?” Godric asked drily. The Viking erupted in laughter, relieved to see at least a hint of his maker’s humor. “Isabelle’s been busy,” he continued, unconcerned. He typed a bit of information into his laptop to crosscheck it and hit ‘enter’. “Besides, I do not view my subordinates as free interior decorators.” He gave his child a sidelong glance.

“What?” Eric asked innocently. “Pamela cannot be stopped, you know this. I’d happily offer you her services if I thought she could be trusted not to transform this place into a shabby chic nightmare.”

“It might look nice.”

“For some reason you’ve never struck me as a chintz and gold kind of man. It didn’t really work for you in the 18^th century either.”

The loving jibe elicited a rare, raspy chuckle from the sheriff. “I’m told metrosexual is the new dandy. Or is that already out too?”

“Inconclusive. I believe they want to be called 'hipsters' now.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, eyes skipping over the text on his screen.

“It involves a lot of second-hand clothing, unfortunately.” The thought of donning fabrics covered with hundreds of strange scents involuntarily sent shivers down their spines. “We could pop into Duncan Quinn to have something made to suit us. It’s been years since we’ve had a bespoke date with a tailor,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

“New York is…” ‘Inconceivable,’ Godric seemed ready to say. “…a no.” Like many of their kind, they had gone a bit wild during the excesses of the ’80s.

“They have a shop in L.A. now,” Eric tried, as though this was actually an alternative. Godric narrowed his eyes. “Oh come on. It’s chockablock with beautiful girls and boys. They all reek of desperation and hunger. Remember you used to –”

The ancient vampire slammed his fist over the file. He swiveled back to his child with a sharp, precise twist. Eric blinked, quickly tabulating all the details of Godric’s sudden violent reaction. The ancient was not displeased, exactly. Just agitated by their inconsequential banter. Disinterested in doing things they used to enjoy. The bitter pinch of frustration in Eric’s throat ratcheted up his bloodlust several degrees. It made his fingers twitch. He toggled the steel ring on his middle finger in concentration. He had worn the gift from his maker nearly his entire undead life and it calmed him. Each twist brought his mind into increasingly sharper focus.

“This Compton is definitely a spy. That much is obvious,” Godric said. He spoke in a frighteningly gentle voice. His mood swings were bewildering to the uninitiated.

“Yes,” Eric said slowly, thinking. “It’s almost as if the Queen wants me to know I’m being watched.”

“I agree.”

“But why? I thought we were clear on our arrangement.” The last problem Eric wanted was a high-profile title and all the bullshit that accompanied having to defend it. Having two ancient vampires – maker and progeny, no less – living anywhere in such close proximity made everyone nervous. Alas, it could not be helped.

Godric settled back in the overstuffed leather office chair. It gave a creaky moan in protest. He mindlessly pinched the inside of his collar and ran the tips of his fingers down the placard of his pale linen shirt, unaware of his own beauty and how inviting the action seemed.

Eric rolled his ring again.

“He could just be dimwitted,” Godric said, unconvinced. “The way he describes wanting to return to his homestead? No self-respecting vampire speaks in such archaic English.”

 Accommoda et prosperabitur. Adapt and thrive. It was the basic tenet of Godric’s vampire species manifesto. “You should have heard his ridiculous accent during our interview," Eric said. "The bastard happily chattered away about how he’d spent the better part of the last 25 years in the UK. Never once let slip with a British colloquialism. He’s purposefully fashioning himself as some Southern gent holdover.”

Godric lifted up the required headshot attached to the application and raised an amused eyebrow. Compton had Xeroxed a tin type of himself. Eric shook his head in consternation. The whole thing smacked of inexperience. “I’m giving the States another couple decades. If they can’t get it together by 2040, I say we chalk this up to a failed experiment and move back to the Old World.”

“It could be misdirection, child.”

Eric groaned. Of course he had considered this. “Any fool can smell the stink on Rhett Butler here. How do you propose I handle him?”

The brunette nodded. “Keep him close. Who do you have at your disposal to tail him?”

They discussed trivial details for the next few hours, never veering back to more personal matters.

~OOO~

Eric returned to Shreveport feeling no less apprehensive about his maker. To make matters worse, he arrived at his nightclub the next evening and found a parcel on his office desk. It was a large box, taped to a fare-thee-well at every corner and seam. It bore an unmistakable scent - the sweaty reek of money. He swore under his breath.

The tall Viking vampire was entirely unfamiliar with failure. Eric Northman did not simply get results: he was accustomed to getting his way exactly as he chose, when he desired it, as he saw fit. These missteps and minor catastrophes were beginning to feel like a house of cards stacked around him, threatening to fall at a misplaced breath. Allowing the fragile architecture of his world to come undone was not an option. This situation was entirely un-fucking-tenable.

Out on the Fangtasia dancefloor, Pamela flinched as she heard the inevitable crash in Eric’s office. She had been anxiously awaiting it since Eric slipped in through the staff entry. In the pulsing din of club’s music, only the vampires present heard the roar of furious curses that followed.

She lazily made her way to the back hallway, trying not to raise alarm among the supernatural patrons. She found Eric sitting amongst a flurry of green paper. Bills of cash were still fluttering down around him like snow.

He was officially at a loss. “What does this human want?”

Thus far Eric had sent Rosalyn Murray a bevy of gifts as tribute: jewelry, several different automobiles, entire lines of designer clothing. All of it was sent back to the retailers without a single word. It was disheartening enough to receive apologetic email after email from upset curriers and shopping assistants who thought they were to blame and were terrified of losing an A-list – and V-list – client.

The substantial addition to Rosalyn’s savings account had actually been one of his first contributions, but apparently it had only just been noticed. Even in the thick of his anger, Eric could not help but appreciate the woman’s audacity. Unable to trace the carefully obscured account numbers from which he had wired the money, Ros had the nerve to withdraw it and send a little over a half a million dollars through the U.S. postal service. Unregistered, nevermind uninsured.

“What can I do?” Pamela said without any hint of her usual snark.

“Pick up this mess and put it into a blind trust for her.”

“I’m already on it. Maybe it’s time to contact her directly?”

“And say what?”

“She had to look up the club to send this. Use that?” she suggested.

He pinched his brow and pulled himself together. Sometimes Eric could not believe he waited as long as he did to turn a child. But then, no one could fill Pamela’s shoes quite like her. She was a brilliant businesswoman and as crafty as a fox. “That’s my girl,” he murmured and pressed an appreciative kiss on her forehead. In a flash, he was gone from the club.

~OOO~

At high noon, the sun was baking its heat into the Shreveport asphalt and only the cicadas bothered to stir and whine in complaint. It was hotter than Hell in northern Louisiana this time of year and every A/C unit on the block was churning overtime.

The deafening screech of an alarm clock pierced through the thick haze of Eric’s daytime slumber. He slammed it off blindly with a hand and forced himself to sit up. It was disorienting and slightly nauseating to wake at such an unnatural hour. After chugging a glass of reheated blood, he felt clearheaded enough to dial Rosalyn’s number. Few causes would have him up and running around during the day, but his maker’s well-being was certainly at the top of that very short list.

Her phone rang and went to voicemail. He dialed again. There was no response. He punched redial with determination. Still no answer. A thin stream of blood began to find its way out of his left ear. He tried yet again, this time thumbing the touch screen with unnecessary force. “Answer,” he commanded, as though he could bend the technology to his will.

The line continued to ring. Eric was about to leave a tart message when a tinny voice answered on the far end of the line. “This had better be an emergency.”

“Well hello to you too, Ms. Murray.”

There was a pause on her end. Rosalyn quickly pieced together the identity of her unknown caller. “It’s Dr. Murray and I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“That’s no way to greet a friend,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware we were on friendly terms. I need to go.”

Eric smiled to himself. “And yet you’ve been Google stalking me. No need to be coy about it. I just received your package.” He crossed his legs, smoothing out the silk of his pajama pants. “So, I take it you found our webpage. What do you think of my little empire in the south?”

“It looks trashy, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh, certainly. Nothing less would please the humans. But it’s very successful. Would you like to see it in person? I can arrange a flight.”

“Absolutely not,” she said flatly.

“Your words wound me, Ros. I must tell you, I am equally hurt that you have rejected my attempts to care for you.”

She sucked in a breath of air. He pulled the cellphone away from his ear, readying himself for the inevitable. Perhaps he had let her stew over this too long. “Inundating a perfect stranger with useless stuff is not caring for someone,” she hissed. “It’s not even in the ballpark of ‘care’. It’s no surprise that a playboy like you doesn’t get it. You can’t just buy people or whatever you’re trying to do!”

“Playboy? Hmm. I haven’t been in Playgirl for decades, if that’s what you mean,” he said, purposefully misconstruing her words. Flirtatiousness was a habitual fallback for him, regardless of appropriateness. “I’ll admit the mustache was a bit outré, even for me, but then – ”

“Eric,” she warned, cutting his inane musings short.

He switched tactics with dizzying efficiency. “Do you realize how rare it is for me to want to help out a breather? Your kind break so easily, so quickly. You should be flattered to have me in your debt.”

“Charming. Really charming,” she huffed. “I don’t understand this obligation you seem to feel toward me, but I can tell you it is truly, deeply misguided.”

“Then tell me how to look after you, milady,” he said as sweetly as possible, pouring a heavy glamour into his voice.

“It’s not your job to look after me!”

Eric rolled his eyes. He was not yet able to influence people by voice alone as his maker could, but it was worth a try. Maybe he would gain the ability in another hundred years. For now, it amounted to yet another failure.

Rosalyn was about to continue chewing him out when she was interrupted by what he assumed was a colleague. A hand rustled over the receiver to muffle the conversation. She was unaware that he could hear every inconsequential word. “Sorry. What was I saying?” she said when she returned to the phone.

“You were presuming to tell me about my duties and my desires, about which you know precious little of either, I’m afraid.”

“Right. You are not my keeper. Please stop sending me things I haven’t asked for.”

“Then ask me for something you do want.”

“What I want is for you to stop…”

“Giving you things? Fine. Message received.”

“Good.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” she said, determined to have the last word. An uncomfortable silence crossed the line, punctuated only by the sound of him sniffing back a trickle of blood. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Care to explain why you’re up in the middle of the day?”

“To call you, of course. Unless you prefer that I wake you at 3am? I needn’t remind you that it’s not especially easy for me to tailor my schedule to suit you.”

It successfully threw her off course. He could hear the swish of a strand of hair being nervously tucked behind her ear. “Why?”

“For starters? To find out why you are hell bent on embarrassing me when I’ve taken a solemn vow to serve you.”

“Embarrassing you?” She snorted in disbelief. A door thudded in the background and her little human sounds suddenly reverberated in a cascade of echoes beyond the phone. Tile, he wagered. She had shut herself in a water closet for privacy. “You’re the one foisting your unwanted and uninvited attentions on me. If you’re embarrassed by your own stupid behavior, then too stinking bad. You had a sports car with a giant bow on its roof brought to me at my school, for Christ’s sake. The faculty think I’m being wooed by a drug dealer!”

Eric was quiet for a long moment. “Clearly that was not my intention.”

“Well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Eric let out a rumbling chuckle. He liked the rhythms of her lively riposte. “So it would seem.”

“Oh, that’s funny to you?”

“I like this,” he said, stretching out on his large mattress. His bleeds were growing worse by the minute and now trailed down his neck and pooled in the hollow at the base of his throat. But even these could not dampen his optimism. He had her talking. It was something. A thin something, but it was a start. “I apologize for interrupting your work. I’ll let you get back to it. Would you be so good as to call me sometime soon? At your convenience, of course, though I am regrettably indisposed before 6pm central time. That’s two hours ahead of Portland.”

“Look, Eric, I know you mean well, but this is just…weird.”

“He thinks of you constantly.” It was Eric’s only weapon, but he deployed it perfectly. Ros took a staccatoed breath. “If I text you an address where you can reach him, will you write?” Static filled the connection.

“I don’t really know what to say, but…sure. I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Eric breathed in relief, wiping his nose with a tissue.

“Just no more gifts, okay?”

“It is tribute.”

“Whatever. No more, please.”

“I’ll consider your request.”

She laughed at the blatant refusal and it set a grin on his face. He recognized a thick strain of stubbornness in her spirit, not unlike his own. “Talk soon, Madame Doctor.”

“Go to sleep, big bad vampire. It’s past your bedtime.”

Chapter Text

iChronos Wireless~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Bat. Level [UUU-]

MESSAGES~~~~~~~~~Rosalyn E. Murray~~~~~~~~~CONTACT

Monday 12:13pm CST

This is the fastest way to reach him via post:

Godfrey & Son, Ltd.
P.O. Box 743
Dallas, TX 75220

Got it?

[12:13pm]

…Waiting…

Tap tap tap…

Ros, I need you to confirm.

[12:13pm]

Do you think I run around all hours of
the day texting this highly guarded address
to just anyone? REPLY MORTAL.

[12:13pm]

ROSALYN!

[12:14pm]

Jesus jumpin jackrabbit, Blondie. You type like 900wrds per second.

[12:14pm]

Delete the text when we’re done.
My people will wipe the cell tower records.
Secure the physical paper in safe, pref. locked, locale.

[12:14pm]

It’s a LETTER, not a commission for a hit. Chill out.
Writing it down now. Gimme 1 minute pls.

^-mere mortal here.

[12:15pm]

Ha. You’re way more fun via txt. Has anyone every told you that?

[12:15pm]

Done yet?

[12:16pm]

Did you *actually* just count out exactly 1 minute?

[12:21pm]

I’m a Virgo. We’re precise.

^-“mere” immortal Viking legend here (+ a few hundred other honorifics & titles)

You may already be familiar w/ a few of these after stalking my
Wikipedia page, creeper… ;D

[12:21pm]

Right. A Virgo.

[12:22pm]

I am! (I think.)

[12:22pm]

Sure.

[12:22pm]

Maybe.

[12:22pm]

Uh huh.

[12:23pm]

Well it would explain a lot.

[12:23pm]

I’ll keep that in mind.

[12:23pm]

That you didn’t question the rest shows your intelligence;
my prestige and renown are objectively, scientifically true.

[12:24pm]

Oh yes. Proven because they are listed on a free webpage open
to public, anonymous editing by tweens and trolls…

[12:24pm]

That is exceedingly unfair to trolls. They are a kind, easygoing people.

[12:24pm]

TICK TOCK, Dr.

Honestly, what ARE you doing right now that’s taking so long?

[12:25pm]

Txting with you, duh! Also dodging students…

[12:25pm]

If I told you that I am slowly bleeding to death in my own bed,
would you possibly move any faster?

[12:25pm]

Touché.

[12:25pm]

Please confirm that you will delete this text/
secure paper as directed above.

[12:26pm]

K.

[12:28pm]

That is NOT how we confirm *critical*instructions. 
Let me be absolutely clear: you ARE being tested. Failure to comply
in our security protocols will result in fine/punishment to the
fullest extent permissible by law.

[12:28pm]

ROGER THAT, Sheriff. Delete msg, store paper securely. Thy will be done
as in heaven and so on earth, etc. etc. etc. Happy?

[12:29pm]

THANK. YOU.

And yes – you should. :)

[12:30pm]

?

[12:31pm]

“Roger” that. He needs it.

[12:31pm]

Ugh. Pervert.

[12:31pm]

Most assuredly XD

[12:31pm]

As if I needed convincing. BTW you have an exceptional talent for
making a woman feel cheap. I mean it. **OUTSTANDING** Just putting
it out there, since you know, we’re “friends” and all.

[12:32pm]

Wasn’t aware it was among my strong suits. Shall we add it to my
official register of titles?

[12:32pm]

High lord of Jackassery?

Thane of Misogyny?

Prince of Patriarchal Darkness?

[12:33pm]

:_(

Except…No, wait. I actually kind of like the last one.

:)

[12:33pm]

Srsly with the emoticons!? What are you, a 12 yr old girl?

[12:33pm]

Let me check.

[12:34pm]

Lol. Taking a while, I see…Thought you were ‘dying’ to get off the line w me.

[12:37pm]

Helloooo? Fall asleep on me buddy? Or did the ego take a hit? (Methinks the
latter is more plausible…)

[12:38pm]

Oh Mr. Norrrrrrthman…

[12:41pm]

Sorry. Litetight shutters xtra slow today. Company sucks.

Dump their stocks asap, btw, we’re going to back Nitegaard’s
new product in the fall. They’ve partnered with Persol.
Genius work, obvsly…G & I funded the R&D.

[12:42pm]

Eric…SIGH.

The stock market and its assoc. systems of capital perpetuate the mystification
of real human values which alienates us from our humanity. I choose to invest my
life and my craftwork in ethical and sustainable practices, not the predatory
behavior of capitalists.

[12:42pm]

Thx for the refresher course in Marx. Noble ideas from a good man. I just hope it doesn’t disappoint you to learn that I am *literally* why good ‘ole Karl likened capitalism to vampirism. And before you judge – I was giving him free room and board in London so he could write.

[12:42pm]

FACEPALM. If that is even true, you are officially a life ruiner. But, uh…why are you leaving your cubby or whatever?

[12:42pm]

Limited lighting in the bedrm. Still can’t see if I’m a 12yo girl. 1sec.

[12:42pm]

HA. GROW UP.

[12:42pm]

Growing as we speak, Madame Doctor.

[12:42pm]

OMFG. Don’t you even DARE.

[12:43pm]

Dare what? I like dares… XD

[12:43pm]

! $%&*! I swear to whatever Norse god you fear most that I’ll block your number
and ditch my phone if you send me an explicit photo. End of discussion. NOT acceptable.

Capiche?

[12:43pm]

Rogering that.

[12:43pm]

GO TO SLEEP NORTHMAN.

[12:44pm]

:P Your wish is my command, milady.

Before I sign out, you should b aware that this hour long convo just cost me
a lot of blood. You owe me half a six-pack of Royalty Blended.

O neg, please.

[12:45pm]

I’ll consider your request, Sheriff.

[12:45pm]

Well played. But I thought I was Prince?

[12:45pm]

Your new title remains to be seen.

[12:45pm]

I can work with that. Good day, Rosalyn fair. Talk soon.

[12:46pm]

Sleep tight, big baddie. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

[12:46pm]

I’m the only thing that bites around here. Night, Doc.

}:F

[12:46pm]

Chapter Text

Pamela roughly dropped a box on Eric's desk. "Do I even want to know?" she asked. Her tone oozed sarcasm.

"Aww, you opened it?" he said, seeing the return address on the flap.

"Protocol, Eric. You'd cut up my credit cards if I let a bomb get through the mail room."

"Too true. Let's see what we have here." He rubbed his hands together and rummaged through the Styrofoam packing peanuts. Pink puffs showered across the floor.

"Mother of God!" Pam said when he pulled out a handful of bubble wrap and a glass bottle. It was plastered in holographic children's stickers that sparkled in the harsh overhead light. "I'd rather we got the bomb. What is that?"

Eric's eyes shined with amusement. He dug out two more bottles, each sporting similar homemade labels. "I believe, dearest Pamela, that it is blood fit for a 12-year-old girl."

She pursed her lips. "Your idea of foreplay is getting creepier by the decade."

He hummed in thought. "Would you believe me if I said I'm not even trying to bed this one?"

"No, I wouldn't. Whatever sick game this is between you, your maker, and the bloodbag, leave me the hell out of it. It's getting weird."

"Too weird for you, Pam?" he said, distracted by his gift. The petite blond stomped around picking up the packing materials, knowing she would be expected to incinerate the evidence immediately.

Eric dismissed her with a flick of his hand. He wiped down each bottle carefully with rubbing alcohol to rid them of any traces of human scent and set them on the edge of his desk where they might be noticed. It was an utterly kooky thing to do, but Rosalyn's unexpected gag gift could not have been better timed. He was expecting Godric this evening. There would not be a more natural chance to inquire about his maker's mail if he had dreamed it up himself.

It was not long before Eric heard the distinctly squeaky thwack of someone coming down the staff-only hall in flip flops. It was accompanied by the tittering click of Pam's overpriced heels. He surfaced from the paperwork he had been plowing through to see her usher in the family patriarch. "Grandsire has arrived, Maker."

"So he has," Eric said, looking him up and down. Godric sauntered in with his hands jammed deep in the pockets of a pair of slouchy grey sweatpants. He sported a backwards baseball cap and a hoodie. As Pam closed the door, she gestured at her grandsire's outfit and threw her hands up in total frustration.

Godric took his hat off and set it on his progeny's desk, then ran a hand through his lustrous brown locks. "Please tell me you rushed a fraternity," Eric said, tossing a stack of tax files aside.

"No," he replied, not seeing the humor in the joke. He scrubbed meanly at his face with the cuffs of his sweater, rubbing off the powdery blush he had used to make his pale cheeks appear more human. His garments reeked of hot grease and cheap beer.

"So?" Eric said.

"She's Fae, Eric. Not much, but I've no doubt it is why Compton is here." Eric swore. He had suspected as much when the strange woman and the vampire spy came into his club three days ago. With little experience in the elusive creatures, his maker had agreed to drop in and do a quick bit of undercover work for him at her place of employment. "I am warning you right now, you stay clear of that woman. Fairies are your worst nightmare."

"Mmm. But tasty, no?" Eric had never actually eaten one, given their rarity, but they were rumored to be deliriously intoxicating.

"They are as vicious as they are temperamental and fickle." Godric's eyes drifted momentarily to the edge of the desk, then back to his progeny. "I am not joking. Do not make me command you."

"Aww, I love it when you boss me around. I get all nostalgic."

He ignored Eric's snark. "I find it hard to believe there just 'happens' to be a lost Fae child wandering around in - what is that backwater called?"

"Bon Temps."

Godric wrinkled his nose. "In Bon Temps. Someone has left her there to hide her, for reasons we have yet to understand."

"She's still an asset in my area. What if Compton means to remove her? How can you expect me not to intervene? The queen could be trying to entrap me – make me look incompetent."

"You let Compton fool with her until we know more. Mark my words, son: it will be only a matter of time before he destroys himself over her. Accursed creatures, the Fae." Godric was clearly disturbed.

"'Observe, reflect, and play the long game'?" Eric asked. It was the motto his maker had always used to warn him against hasty decisions. Godric bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "What did you think of the shifter's bar?"

"Merlotte's? It is truly vile. You can hear the humans' organs clogging as they stuff their faces with garbage."

Eric's mouth twisted into an amused smirk. "You want a change of clothes?"

"Please."

Eric dug out a shirt with the Fangtasia logo and a clean pair of his own running shorts from a cupboard. When he turned to hand them over, he caught his maker glancing back at the desk. "Oh, you noticed my gift?"

"What are these?" Godric leaned forward and picked up a bottle. "'Friendship is Magic?'" he said, reading the label. "Why are there cartoon horses on this blood?" My Little Ponies pranced and shook their glittery manes, sending rainbow colors skipping about.

"What? You don't ever get any fan mail since the Great Revelation?" Eric asked.

"No. Well, not like this." Eric made a noncommittal sound. It was his age old signal for his maker to continue. Getting him to talk could be like pulling teeth. "Just a few postcards lately." Godric turned the bottle in fascination.

"Postcards?" Eric pressed. "From where?"

"Random places. Tacoma. Newark. Arlington."

Airports, Eric registered immediately. "And what do they say? Are they undying declarations of fealty to you? Propositions for long nights full of passionate, reckless sex?"

Godric suppressed a weak smile. "No. Just quotes."

"Romantic quotes? Loooooove quotes?"

"Oh would you back off?" he snapped, clinking the bottle down. "They are literary quotations, if you must know."

"Tell me one," Eric said, crossing his arms.

Godric hesitated, then sheepishly pulled out his wallet and withdrew a battered piece of cardstock. It had been folded and refolded many times. Eric carefully opened the postcard to reveal a famous oil painting of Yosemite Valley. It was a lush landscape filled with light and water and life. He flipped it over. The message was written in block letters, but he was fairly certain he recognized the hand.

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters." - Norman Maclean

Eric furrowed his brow. "It's sad."

"I like it."

"It sounds fucking sad!"

"No, child. It is beautiful. Does it not describe us perfectly?"

Eric shook his head and handed back the postcard. He was bewildered by the Celt who turned him so long ago. "Whatever. I like my…" he picked up another bottle "…'Hello Kitty Juice' better."

Godric took it and sniffed the cap in suspicion. It appeared to be factory sealed. "You don't know who sent this?" He rolled the bottle in his hand, testing its weight and viscosity.

Moments ago Eric was about to throttle Ros for sending his maker melancholy cards when she had promised to help, but he suddenly saw she had given him another perfect opportunity for a little sleight of hand. "I suppose it is a secret admirer. The box didn't have a return address." Eric snatched up the third drink. "I'll have this one. What do you think? It's probably safe." He spun it around. "'The Power of Mjölnir!' Sounds about my speed." A blond hulking superhero on the sticker thrust a hammer into the sky. There were also, inexplicably, little hearts and balloons pasted on it.

Eric casually popped the container into the microwave on his bookshelf. "Don't drink that. It could be poisoned," Godric warned.

"With what? Ooh, maybe it's tainted with fairy!" He waggled his eyebrows.

"I don't like it, Eric," he said in a growl. The microwave dinged and Godric grabbed the bottle away from his progeny before he could taste it. He snapped the cap off and took a fast drag. "Mmkkkch!" he gagged, quickly throwing a wrist over his mouth to keep from spraying it everywhere. "It tastes like burnt dog!"

"Fuck, that's probably B Pos. Hold on, maybe one of these is O." Eric quickly zapped the 'Pony' blood, this time leaving off a few seconds on the timer since his maker found it overheated. "Check this one."

Godric took a very tiny sip, lips curling back in anticipation of something foul. He swallowed hesitantly, then ran a tongue over his teeth. A shadow of something illegible passed over his features. It was not quite a cringe.

"What's wrong? Is it contaminated?" Eric went for the bottle, but Godric jerked it away possessively, taking another tentative drink. The Viking managed to keep his face schooled with a look of grave concern. All he wanted to do was thrust his fist in the air in victory.

"It tastes…funny." He pursed his lips, searching for the right description. "Remember when we made that run on the Papal whorehouse?"

"Mmm, of course. In the 16th century?"

"It's kind of like that. Like used up Medici courtesans and sullied altar boys drowned with an imitation Chianti. It's disgusting." He drank again, thinking.

"Hm. No, our courtesans drank themselves sick with that pricey Brunello stuff. Or was it Vin Santo?"

"Vin Santo," Godric said wistfully. "But they cut it with water. Don't you recall? We had to bring it to them in cases. They hardly had 10 florins between the lot of them after we robbed the church." He passed the bottle and Eric feigned taking a swig.

"Oh right. But that Floriana – or no, Francesca was her name – her voice was divine. I can still see her sitting on that windowsill overlooking the canal. She was like a songbird, so full of music."

"I rather remember you liked her more for her erotic artistry."

"Either way, her throat was great." Godric rolled his eyes. "Which was the one with the wicked wit and the even keener pen? She kept writing all those scathing pamphlets? You had to glamour her out of jail twice."

"Gods, yes. Arabella! I had forgotten her. Scandalous political views!"

Eric passed the bottle back to his maker who, lost in recollection, took it and drank. He pressed for more details and the two reminisced for the better part of an hour, sipping (or fake sipping as it were) and laughing in turns. It had been three months since the AVL's gala. Three months. Eric tried to sweep the number from his mind. It was too distressing.

If Godric knew he had been misled into eating, he made no comment. He wiped the back of his mouth with a hand and left the bottle when they were done, shaking his head. "That has plastic in it. It's killing the humans, you know." He left without further ado, sandals flapping noisily down the tiled floors of the club.

Eric briefly wondered whether being around the Fae hybrid had whet Godric's appetite, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The Stackhouse woman's blood had held no unique allure for him when they had met. It was her slithering snake of a choice in dates along with the admission about the telepathy that tipped him off about anything unusual. No, he decided, looking at the empty bottle of Royalty Blended left sitting on his desk. The inexplicable variable here was Rosalyn Murray. Who would ever think to send such a fantastically odd thing to a vampire? He was equal parts baffled and intrigued.

Too pleased to resist, Eric collapsed onto his leather couch with his phone.

~OOO~

In the dead of night, the city beyond the cold glass of Rosalyn's hotel room was silent and twinkling. She had been staring out the window for hours, unable to sleep. Every time she had to return to D.C. in the past few months, her insomnia had grown worse. The city was overrun with fake smiles and helmet hair and young people who had been conned into thinking that all dreams should fit neatly inside ballot boxes. She had been awash in double-tongued ideas like 're-districting' and 'bottom lines' and 'poll numbers' and it made her head throb. She could not believe how difficult it was to simply right one single law that was so clearly prejudiced and motivated by human fear and hate. It was eating at her. She was tired and despite all the assurances of her supporters, she was pretty sure she was alone in this battle.

Somewhere over the hum of the room's A/C unit, deep in the recesses of her purse, she heard her phone buzz. The sound roused her from her troubled thoughts. There was only one person who texted her so late. She went to hunt the device down, leaving a misty outline of a handprint on the windowpane. It lingered a moment, then disappeared.

Horizon Wireless~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Bat. Level [U_]

MESSAGES~~~~~~~~~BigBadBlondie~~~~~~~~~CONTACT

Thursday 3:49am EST

You brilliant, utterly bizarre hippy.

I adore you and want to crawl inside your brain and play.

[3:49am]

What did I do now?

[3:49am]

Sending pic. Totally clean, scouts honor.

[3:50am]

Rosalyn squinted at the thumbnail picture before downloading it. It looked like something on a desk. Declaring it safe, she opened it. It was a shot of one of the silly blood synthetics she had mailed Eric two weeks ago. He must have just received them. The image was followed up with another text.

Entertained company 2nite. The old man drank it, not me. Was entranced by sparkly ponies…

[3:50am]

Lol. Great news. Very happy to hear.

[3:50am]

Also, Thor was a B+. NASTY. (and blasphemous). Thought I made myself clear.

By my count, u still owe me 2 drinks.

[3:51am]

Hmm. Limited stock available. Smurf Blood only. Leaves your teeth blue.

[3:51am]

Genius. You should be in marketing.

[3:51am]

If only.

[3:51am]

What's up?

[3:51am]

Ugh. Politics.

[3:52am]

News getting you down or problem at work?

[3:52am]

Meh. Having trouble with the AVL's lobbyist. He's kind of a dick. You're in politics, can I pick your brain about him?

[3:52am]

I AM CALLING.

[3:52am]

"Where are you?" Eric was furious and his tone brooked no argument.

"I'm in Washington. What's wrong?"

"What in the name of the nine fucking realms are you doing with the AVL's lobbyist on Capitol Hill?"

"I'm trying to get this petition rolling for education reform. It's really been slow going."

"I thought you were doing consulting work – getting your night class program started at more colleges! Is this not why you have been traveling?"

"Wait, what? I've been doing that too, but…How did you know I've been on the road?"

"It is my job to know!" he bellowed in panic. "Explain yourself!"

"The hell I will! Explain yourself, mister! Have you…" Her voice dropped into a hiss. "Oh my god, have you been spying on me?!"

"Goddammit woman," He quickly recalled the post stamp from the card Godric had showed him. "Arlington, Virginia. You were in DC two months ago?"

"Yes, but - "

"And Newark. Please for the love of the gods tell me you weren't in New York."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was. I don't see what the - "

"At the AVL headquarters?"

"Of course, I had to meet with Nan Flannigan in order to - " Eric swore a stream of obscenities. Rosalyn heard loud banging and slamming in the background. "Just what is going on, Eric? You're freaking out!"

"What is 'going on' is that I have exactly two hours, twenty-eight minutes, and nineteen seconds to get to D.C. before sunrise."

"What?" The line went dead before Rosalyn could get an answer.

Chapter Text

The television screen pulsed with images in the darkness of the hotel room. An old movie was playing. Rosalyn had muted it. She was too distressed to try to follow the story and the chattering of the Hollywood starlettes had aggravated the massive headache currently splitting through her skull.

Her phone buzzed with a text message precisely ninety minutes after her jarring phone call from Eric. It read simply: What hotel? Room #?

Sofitel. Lafayette Sq., Rm 243, she typed back.

In exactly three minutes, there was a soft scratch on the door. She checked the peephole. There was a black clad chest outside. Golden hair just barely swept across the pale arching mounds of the person’s extraordinarily broad shoulders. Any other details were obscured by the visitor’s massive height. The chest dipped down and the peephole filled with an icy blue eye. Ros squeaked in surprise.

“Blondie?” she said in disbelief when she opened the door. Eric stood unmoving in the hallway. “Do you need to be invited in? Because I’m not exactly thrilled to see you here at the crack of dawn.” He typed something rapidly into his phone and flipped it around for her to read.

Turn off A/C and tv.

She scrunched up her face and was about to retort, but he silenced her with a sharp wave of his finger. This night was getting exponentially strange. Sighing, she did as he asked. In the door frame, Eric closed his eyes in concentration and tilted his head back. Coming to a quick conclusion, he stepped through the doorway and tapped his ear at her. “Good to see you, pet. Master Godric sends his regards. He is most displeased to hear you’re having difficulty with the AVL.”

“Oh, yeah, well…”

Eric looked at her in warning. “We can’t accept that now, can we?”

“No, I guess not.”

“No, pet, we cannot. You serve him, at his pleasure. Isn’t that right?” His eyes went wide as he mouthed ‘yes’.

“Yeah. You know it,” she said, shrugging in frustrated incomprehension. Eric blinked slowly, nodding.

“This room is a shoddy piece of shit,” he said, fingering the polyester coverlet on the bed with disgust. “Did the AVL comp you this? Daddy-o is going to be one unhappy camper when he finds out. C’mon, we’re upgrading.”

“Erp - ” Eric clapped a hand over her mouth before she could blast him with an unscripted complaint. Ros crossed her arms as she watched Eric zip through the room collecting her things. In mere seconds, he had her bag repacked.

Eric stalked down the hall toward the elevator, Ros in tow. “Eric! Where are we going?” She was barefoot and clad only her lime green nightgown. She scuttled awkwardly with her heavy suitcase.

The elevator car dinged and Eric scowled when the doors parted to reveal a trio of scantily dressed young women inside. They looked drugged and were obviously there to work the hotel’s clientele. “Out!” he growled, sending them skittering. He had Rosalyn by the arm and he slammed the lobby floor button roughly.

“Man, what is your problem? How did you get here so fast?” she said.

“I flew.” Eric kept a steady eye on the floor numbers whizzing by.

“I didn’t even know there were flights between Shreveport and here. What did you take, a fighter jet?”

Eric glanced at her, his expression sour. “Do me a favor and shut up.” Rosalyn blinked in confusion. He had thrown a hasty glamour at her, without any finesse. The eyes monitoring the camera in the corner of the elevator car would have caught anything more purposeful. Ros wanted to speak, but her brain felt garbled about what she meant to say. Her mouth opened and closed several times. She had been silenced as callously and impatiently as her old movies stars on tv. Her headache grew worse.

At the front desk, Rosalyn could only watch as Eric intimidated a pin-neat concierge into giving him a light-tight suite. He insisted that the room be charged to the AVL’s account and it took several frantic calls to an equally flustered manager before the unreasonable demand was met with profuse apologies and two key cards. As Rosalyn waited, mutely clutching the handle of her bag, she could not help but notice the eyes that surreptitiously slid in her direction. From the bar. At the courtesy phone. In coat check. It was same way other vampires had looked at her in New York. It was deeply unsettling. Their heads never moved.

When Eric escorted her into a sumptuous room on the eighth floor, the entire experience had felt disembodied, surreal. She rolled the suitcase in the middle of the floor and stood there, forlorn. Eric first programmed a complex biometric lock that sealed the door and then scoured the room’s surfaces, looking for more listening devices. Finally, he lightly touched her shoulder. “You can speak now. The room is clean.”

The situation suddenly came into jarring focus. Adrenaline flooded Rosalyn’s system. “Eric!” she gasped. Her mind had been released only to find herself trapped.

“Shhh. It’s okay. It was necessary. Are you alright?” he said.

She slapped him. Hard. Normally, Ros loathed violence. This was pure animal instinct. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you understand?” The blow had zero effect on him, but it left her hand stinging. He took it between his two cool palms to soothe it.

“Listen to me. I am here to protect you. You are safe now.” He guided the trembling woman to sit at the edge of the bed and squatted at her feet, trying to minimize how intimidating he appeared. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“Okay? You roll in here with no explanation, acting like some crazed James Bond villain, then you use your terrifying mind control powers on me and drag me into this freaking inescapable dungeon of a room? Just what part of that sounds ‘okay’ to you? Cause it sounds to me like I need protection from you.”

Eric ran a hand through his hair. “I was in a rush. Please, let me explain.” He pulled a chair up and straddled it backwards.

“Oh please. Be my guest. What choice have I got,” she said, pointing to the impenetrable door.

“Ros, this is a misunderstanding.”

“Really? What part of your high-handed bullshit am I not getting?”

“Calm down, woman. I am trying to tell you that I made an error. Do I look pleased about it? I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment. I had no idea that you were messing around with the AVL folks. Why didn’t you mention it?”

“Mention it? Do you tell me how you spend your nights? We’ve texted each other a couple times, you twit! I barely know you!”

“Fair enough. Look, the AVL - they are a complete front. Part of the PR strategy for the Reveal.” Rosalyn could not believe her ears. “They’re a sham. In no way connected to the actual operation of vampire politics in the U.S.”

“That’s outrageous. They’re supposed to be incorporating Vampire Americans into our legal system!”

“No, what is outrageous is that you have been consorting with the AVL’s lobbyist. Derek Ronwe is a dick, as you say, because he’s a full-blooded demon and a damned dangerous one at that. Please tell me you haven’t signed anything he’s given you or made any agreements with him.”

“No, no, nothing like that. He tried to get me to have dinner him a couple times, but I refused.”

“Thank the gods.”

“Wait. You’re not being serious.”

“Deadly,” he said, the tips of his fangs visible.

“An actual demon,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Okay I’m…” She shook her head, trying to dispel the shock. “That doesn’t even begin to cover why you’re here.”

Eric pursed his lips, trying to figure out where to begin. There was so much she did not know and plenty she was far safer not knowing. “Tell me first about what you are trying to accomplish in the human legislature, then maybe I can explain better.”

“Nothing, it would seem, since it turns out the AVL isn’t actually meant to do anything.” She rubbed her temples, trying to will away the pinching pain in her head. “I just want young and disadvantaged vampires to have the same opportunities as everybody else – to qualify for scholarships and go to school.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean why? You don’t think vampires have rights too?”

“Of course, but I mean, this is something I’ve never understood about you. I looked through every record I could find. You have had virtually no experience with our kind, which – no offense – it’s plainly obvious from how you act. Why help?”

Ros furrowed her brow. “Because it is the right thing to do.”

“No one is that much of a saint. What’s in it for you? Are you going to patent your program?”

“Of course not!” she said in disgust. “Everybody wins when curious minds are allowed to blossom.” Eric raised his eyebrows skeptically. He had lived too long to buy it. “Look, two years ago a young woman wanted to take my class. I pushed the course time past sunset to accommodate her, only to find out the school wouldn’t let her register. You know what the dean told me? ‘We don’t give credits to fangs.'”

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “What was her name?” he said, his voice frighteningly quiet.

“The dean? Eric, I don’t want you taking things into your own hands.”

“No, the vampire.”

“Lucy.”

“Did she ever get to enroll?”

“I don’t know. I never saw her again. I quit. Nobody tells me how to run my classroom.”

Eric dropped his gaze to the ground. A blond tendril of his hair fell forward. For the first time, Rosalyn saw something in his features that was not total cocky bastard. He seemed subdued – and determined. “We’ll make sure Lucy gets to take that class, Rosalyn. I wish you had told me this sooner.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“First thing is first. You stay the hell away from Ronwe. Clear your schedule and don’t return anyone’s phone calls. I’ll arrange to get you back to Portland tomorrow evening. The most important thing is that we keep the AVL guessing about our intentions, since they’ll have assumed that we sent you to spy on them.”

“What? Why on earth would they think that?”

He groaned. “I see my maker did not have the courtesy to explain himself. That is…typical. Let me break it down for you. Godric healed you that night at the gala. He marked you with his blood, sealing it between the layers of your skin. It’s a claim, of sorts. Or the beginning of one, at least. You’ve been parading around smelling like extraordinarily ancient vampire. It’s less noticeable now, but I bet if you were stomping around New York and DC in the late summer heat every creature within 10 miles picked up on you.”

Rosalyn’s fingertips grazed her neck and she furrowed her brow. All those creepy, sliding eyes of other vampires – they were undressing her, sniffing out her most intimate secrets. She felt violated somehow. It was not the feeling she wanted curling in her throat when she thought of that magical night. Of Godric’s sensual touch. His heated stare. Those soft, full lips. “I feel sick,” she said, closing her eyes. A fat tear threatened to escape. “How could he…”

“Don’t. He meant absolutely no offense. On the contrary…” Eric struggled for the right words, as if it were impossible to capture the full meaning of his maker’s blessing. “It is a supreme mark of honor.”

“He was so strange after he…you know. About the bite.”

Eric nodded, unable to discuss that night in the desert. “I am sorry if I frightened you tonight.”

“Sorry I smacked you. You deserved it, though.”

“I had to act quickly. You being marked – it attaches you to our family. Your hotel room was stuffed with surveillance equipment. The AVL is undoubtedly watching you like a hawk.”

“So you think that gives you the right to spy on me? To barge in and order me around? Use mind control? I am a person, damn you, not a puppet!”

“You are far more than a person. You are unique; you alone are the only mortal to bear Godric’s mark. What did I say the night we met?”

Rosalyn still had her palm placed protectively over her neck. She traced the jacquard patterns in the puffy grey bed comforter with her other hand, unwilling to meet his intense stare. “I don’t know. You said you liked me for a breather or something.”

“Tsk. My exact words were ‘you are literally my favorite breather in the entire world.’ Do I strike you as one prone to compliments?” She shrugged sheepishly. “I meant what I said, Rosalyn.” He went to the fancy wet bar built into the side wall and started rifling through the large gift baskets set on the counter. “Here. Will this help?” He handed her a foil wrapped bar.

“You can’t buy your way out of this with chocolate, Eric Northman.”

He smiled innocently. “I can try.”

She snagged it from his hands. “Keep talking, mister.”

Eric tried his best to elaborate. He was rarely candid, especially with a human. He paced the room, which seemed to keep his thoughts organized. With each lap he made across the floor, he mapped out yet another way the AVL might have attempted to exploit her. It was dizzying. And humbling. “Our family – we don’t openly support or oppose any of the many factions in our world. We certainly haven’t taken a clear stance on the AVL or even the consortium of big-time players that backs them.”

“Who do you side with then?”

Eric broke into a sly grin. “Ourselves, of course. How do you think we have survived for so long? At least now we’ve given the AVL confirmation that you play ball for our team. They will think twice about trying to use you for their own purposes.”

“I really walked into a supernatural shitstorm, didn’t I?”

Eric sighed in relief. Rosalyn had finally accepted that this was not some evil machination of his own. “Afraid so. But luckily, I’m good at cleaning up messes.”

“I guess I should be grateful you got here when you did.”

Eric kicked off his heavy leather boots, leaving them strewn on the floor and they lapsed into silence for a long moment. They were both relieved to have arrived at a better understanding of each other.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Shoot.”

“Why do you live in Shreveport? I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not exactly a buzzing hub of culture and refinement.”

“Would you believe me if I said I like the muggy weather and the alligators?”

“Nope.” Rosalyn sucked the last errant smear of chocolate off her thumb and crumpled the wrapper. She did not notice the way Eric’s nostrils flared slightly at her gesture.

“Hnnn, clever woman. Think of it this way. You used to fish with your father as a little girl, right?”

“How can you even…?”

“Facebook,” he said.

“I’m going to need more chocolate.” She pegged him in the chest with the balled-up foil.

Eric laughed and grabbed the ‘human’ guest basket. He dumped it on the bed and flopped down next to her to examine the contents. “Where do the biggest, oldest fish live in the river?” He dragged a long finger through the jumble of candies spread out between them and tapped next to a red and white peppermint. “Behind the rocks and in the bends, where the water is the calmest. All the young ones struggle in the current, flapping around furiously where the predators can see them. Meanwhile, we lay quietly waiting.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“For the most interesting snacks to come floating our way, of course!” He tapped her nose and gave a carefree laugh.

“Jerk!” she said. Eric laughed even harder. Without warning, he rolled over and pulled his black tank top over his head with a single hand, exposing an impossibly gorgeous expanse of pale skin. His chest was a sculpture to rival anything wrought in marble.

“Uh,” she stammered, suddenly very focused on peeling off the cellophane wrapper off a caramel. “I guess I’ll take the couch then.”

“Don’t be silly, Ros,” he said, his voice husky. He hopped on all fours, looking ready to pounce. “You’re going to sleep right here, on top of me.” He patted the mattress under him. The delighted twinkle in his eyes turned her beet red. She was about to tell him he could sleep on the business end of a stake when he kicked under the bedskirt and a hard-sided travel coffin rolled out. “See?”

“Ugh! You cad!” she said.

“You know it.” He winked and stole a pillow off the bed. Once inside the trundle, he squirmed around to make himself comfortable. There was very little room for his massive frame. “I took the liberty of ordering your meals for the day. They’ll leave them in the carousel.” He pointed to a little door in the wall. The array of unfamiliar technology in the room made Rosalyn feel as though she had stepped into an alternate universe. In some ways, she truly had.

“I’m assuming you’ve not seen one of these up-close before?” He slapped the edges of his titanium sleeping case. “It will tuck back under the bed when I shut the cover. Please don’t mess with it during the day. It has a really nasty security system to deter tampering and you don’t want to see how grumpy I get when I’m awoken unexpectedly.”

“Got it. Am I really going to be locked in here all day?”

“And here I thought you were an optimist,” he said. “Think of it as keeping the bad guys locked out.”

“You’re the only baddie I see around here.”

Eric laughed and dug his phone out to send some last-minute instructions to Pam. Rosalyn crawled underneath the sheets and could not help but let out a hum of appreciation. The bedding was deliciously soft. Eric had not been wrong. This room was way nicer. Rosalyn turned out the lamp.

“Eric?” she asked through a wide yawn, finally feeling sleepy. He was still tapping away on his phone. It cast a soft glow from the floor by the bed.

“Hmm?”

“I’m starting to figure you out.” Under all the arrogance and the flippancy and the sexual innuendo, Eric was profoundly good. And he was offering her his friendship.

“Should I be worried?”

“Nah, your secret is safe with me.”

“Phew.”

“You’re still an overbearing brute, though.”

He snorted. “I know.”

A few moments later, he set his cell down. “Ros?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw your Yosemite postcard.” Rosalyn’s heart skipped a beat and she swallowed hard. “He keeps it in his wallet.” Another long silence passed. “Why does he like it? The quote, I mean.” His voice was barely audible.

Rosalyn rolled over, burrowing deeper into the covers as if she could somehow hide herself from the vampire’s intrusive questions. “It’s about our unity in nature and time,” she said.

“It’s more than that,” he countered. Contrary to all appearances, Eric was not insensitive to such things. He liked literature. He learned to read and write studying Aeschylus and Ovid. What he did not like was the looming dread that his maker was slowly slipping away from him. And this woman somehow spoke a language only she and Godric seemed to share. He desperately needed to understand.

“It means…I am haunted by that night in the desert,” she said in a whisper.

He let the thought settle over him. The compressor in the room’s mini-fridge kicked on, filling the silence with a calming buzz. “Ros?”

“What, blondie.”

“Tell me another of your quotes.”

She sighed. “Just one, okay?”

“Alright.”

She took an unsteady breath in the pitch black room. “‘If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers.'”

Eric smiled to himself. He knew the author. “Saint-Exupéry. What was the picture?”

“One of those time-lapse shots of the night sky in the Pacific Northwest.”

His smile grew even broader.

“I see him in everything now,” she said quietly.

Normally, the Viking would respond to such sentiment with a crass joke. But in the last minutes before dawn, he found there was nothing at all funny about it. Instead, he was reminded of the first time he ever set eyes on his maker. Godric was a savage, shining boy – a face peering down into his funeral bier illuminating the dark. He had guided him through a thousand years of night.

Eric could not fathom a world without Godric’s light.

Chapter Text

Being locked in a sealed room with Eric Northman, it turned out, was not such a terrible thing. Unethical? To be sure. Respecting the normal boundaries of a barely begun friendship? Dubious, at best. But when Rosalyn woke very late the next day, there was not much time to grow angry or resentful. She had only begun attacking the massive dinner service left in the dumbwaiter cubby when Eric’s trundle coffin rolled out. It unlatched and a ruffle-headed vampire sat up and stretched his long arms. “Morning sweetpea,” he said.

“You’re up early.”

Eric glanced over her attire. Rosalyn had neither showered nor changed out of her nightgown. “You’re not.”

Rosalyn shrugged and finished a bite of the most tender, flavorful lamb she had ever tasted. “You know, you’re really an idiot. You must have ordered everything the kitchen had. There’s enough food to feed a small army here.”

“Well aren’t you sassy today.” He smoothed his blond hair in the mirror. He was apparently in no rush to cover his bare chest.

“Honestly. See this?” She angled the plate at him. The mint sauce sluiced down to the rim, threatening to spill. “This was a little baby sheep. And that? A steer, probably three or four years old. That was a duck once and that…well, I’m not entirely sure what that was, but it’s definitely dead now too.”

“Does this culinary lesson have a point, milady?”

“It’s wasteful, Eric! These animals each gave their lives to sate human hunger and they’re just going to wind up in the trash.”

“So?”

“So!?”

“Ros, you needed human food. I’m over a thousand years old and very much undead. To say I’m out of touch with what might serve as acceptable comestibles for you is an understatement. It was the simplest solution.”

“It’s not harmonious! It’s taking more than we’re giving back!”

“Then give it to some vagrants.”

She furrowed her brow. “Homeless people?”

“Yeah,” he said, fussing with the microwave and a bottle of Royalty Blended. “Just ask the driver to stop somewhere on your way to the airport later.”

“That’s…actually…a really good idea.”

“I’m full of them.” He smirked.

One minute he was shaking his drink across the room and then in a flash, he was right beside her, her wrist to his nose. She went stiff as a board with a squeak. He inhaled her scent deeply, not hiding the fact that his fangs were fully extended.

“Eric, do not!” she said in a flat tone, afraid that any more of a reaction would trigger the predator in him.

A rolling, low laugh rumbled out of him and he planted a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. “Just trying to drum up an appetite. This bottled stuff is pretty foul.”

“It costs a fortune.”

“So did your baby sheep. Aren’t you glad we’re charging it to the AVL?”

“Just, don’t do that, okay? You startled me.”

“Believe me, I know. A little selfish though, I realize. Would you rather I gag this down in misery?” He made a puppy dog face and damn him if he did not look adorable. “It’s like a human trying to live only on Gatorade and energy gel.”

“Says the man who just finished with his ‘I know nothing of your puny mortal food’ speech.”

“I saw someone make the comparison in a magazine. Obviously, I have no basis for the reference myself. Most of the crap you creatures eat looks like food dye and corn syrup goo to me.”

Ros snorted. “Most of it is, honestly. I guess…here. They left this on the tray for you.” She passed the donor menu to him.

“Rosalyn Murray, you naughty kitten. Am I to believe you want to watch me have a live meal?”

She choked on her glass of water. “Just being polite. Nevermind.”

“Scandalous.” He tutted, raised an eyebrow, and took another drink.

“What’s the last thing you ate as a human? Do you remember?”

“Huh. What an odd thing to ask. I haven’t thought of it…ever.” He closed his eyes to trace back the millennium. It took him a minute to find the memory. “It was war and I was travelling, so the last proper meal I had was with my people in the feasting hall. I believe there was elk and mead and honeyed oatcakes, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And what was the last human food to touch the legendary Northman’s lips?”

“Dried fish. No…” he corrected. “Berries. I ate berries. Godric didn’t want me to throw up the fish.”

“I can’t really imagine you eating. You’re just so…vampire.”

“Why thank you. That’s easily the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She picked at a piece of chocolate cake, but found it a little on the dry side. “What’s it like?” She was perhaps too curious for her own good.

“Mmm. For us, you mean?”

“Yes.” There were so many rumors, but a lot of it seemed like nonsense.

“Well, it’s like a dance, I suppose. We mirror each other in every step.” Rosalyn grinned almost painfully, remembering Godric rocking her in his arms. Eric set the bottle on the table and stalked toward her. “You see me and your pupils blow wide, to better understand what I am. Mine do the same, to better track your every move.” He leaned down so she could see his eyes. The icy irises were thin halos clasping pools of bottomless black. “Our vision is nearly perfect. I can see the dust shimmer on your skin. The exact number of lines creasing your lips.”

“How many?”

“Six hundred and thirty-nine,” he said automatically.

“Amazing.”

“I can hear the instant contraction of your heart muscle in response as you realize you’re being hunted. Not just the beat, mind you, but the actual muscle itself. All of your muscles. I know where you’ll run before you do.” He traced the green lace at the top of her nightgown, creating the effect he wanted to describe next. “Endorphins suddenly flood your entire body. They are sharp smelling and maddening and make my fangs spring loose. Every gush and gurgle in the veins drives us toward our prey.” He pulled her thick brunette braid back, exposing his maker’s mark. “Your pores suddenly bloom with heat and sweat, telling me a hundred different things about who you are and where you’ve been. It makes my throat burn with hunger.”

“And…the taste?” she dared to press. She knew she was playing with fire, but she was fascinated.

“Honestly, with you I couldn’t say exactly.” He ran a thumb over the two perfect crimson dots on her neck, invisible to all but his kind. Impulsively, he leaned in and inhaled the column of her throat. She jumped to have him so close and placed a hand on his chest, as if she could hold him back. His cool breath was accompanied by the lightest tickling graze of a fang.

“You’re afraid of me being so close and a little excited too.”

“Nuh uh…”

“Tsssht. Don’t lie. The blood sings all your secrets to me. Right here, you can’t see it, but there are two ruby drops of ancient vampire blood. It is incredibly distracting. It screams of power. When you are frightened, it is even louder in its threat. Did you not see some of the younger vampires flailing out of your way when you left the gala? It’s terrifying to them. But to me…” he took another heady draft. “…to me it’s truly the last thing I ate as a human, if you must know. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to drink since.”

“Alright, back off, then. You’re freaking me out.”

Eric made no move to give her space. He stroked the spot on her neck in fascination. The artery underneath caused the blood sealed there to shimmer and leap. “I couldn’t touch it if I wanted to,” he said, transfixed. “We are incapable of descending our fangs against our makers, especially to reach their blood.”

“Even after you’re released?”

Eric’s entire demeanor shut down into something cold and masked. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I was just guessing. They make a big deal about it on tv.”

“That’s a big word in a mortal’s mouth.” He went to fiddle with the lock on the food carousel, as if it was suddenly fascinating. What he said next, he said with his back turned. “You cannot tell anyone. Almost no one knows.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“We remain bonded by mutual choice.”

“It’s fine, Eric. I’m sorry I said anything.”

He rejoined her at the table, not willing to meet her stare, she unwilling to meet his. They sat in silence. “I tried to ask Godric and he commanded me to stay silent, so I have to wait for you to tell me about it,” he said cryptically.

“About what?”

He gritted his teeth. “About it.”

“That night?” she said.

He rolled his eyes. They sounded like a bad Abbot and Costello routine. “Yes, fuck, that night,” he growled. “You do understand that I am physically incapable of breaking a command, yes? I cannot ask a question about it.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Here I was grateful this whole time that you weren’t grilling me for answers I probably don’t have.”

“You just pried out one of my most closely guarded secrets. Recounting this fucking…thing…” he ground out, clearly struggling, “shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Oh, watch your mouth. Now you’re just being rude.”

“Talk, wench.”

“That night, he seemed so lost and disconnected, yet totally impenetrable. You, mister, were drowning in women and totally ignoring him. So I got up and asked him what was wrong.”

“Uh huh.” Eric pitched forward in his chair to listen.

“He took one look at me and basically told me I was no better than a drunkard up in his face. I don’t think he appreciated my prodding.”

As severe as Eric’s expression was, he could not help but lean his head back and chuckle through closed eyes. “Þú lítir vætr eigi heill.“

“What’s that?”

“The first thing that savage ever said to me.”

“What does it mean?”

“Basically that I looked like shit.”

It was Ros’ turn to laugh. “He has a funny way of making friends, no?”

“Yes, but he keeps them. He does everything ferociously.”

“He didn’t seem like that with me. He was so gentle and sweet. Well, I guess a little intense. Er…maybe a lot intense.”

“That sounds par for the course.”

“He didn’t want to cause me pain, though. I think he liked that I’d never been bitten and wasn’t into that sort of thing. He got upset about wound afterwards. It didn’t hurt, but he said it would have an ugly bruise. Then he healed it.”

“Explain.”

“I don’t know. He suddenly freaked out that someone else might bite me and he made me promise never to let anyone feed off me but him.”

“Yeah…”

“There’s not more, really.” She lapsed into thought.

“You don’t know why he’s refusing to eat, do you.” It was not a question.

Eric clenched his jaw. “No. Our family physician could find nothing wrong with him.”

“I didn’t realize vampires had doctors. Did you try a psychologist?”

“Please. Can you see a vampire blubbering on a couch about his troubles and how it all stems from how his maker never bit him enough as a yearling? We don’t work that way. Anyways, we were both made when the idea of confession meant nothing more than admitting to something under torture. We don’t put much stock in self-purification through verbal diarrhea.”

“I don’t hold any illusions that Godric has probably done some horrific things in his long life. Are you sure he’s not suffering through some moral torment?”

“He’s never liked organized religion – to put it mildly. Moral codes change more often and faster than you’d suspect.”

“So much has changed for you. It must be hard.”

He scoffed. “Change is the only constant in our lives, Ros.”

She sucked at her teeth in chagrin. They were nowhere closer to having an answer. “We’re going to figure it out, Eric. I promise I’ll do what I can to help you.” She reached across the table to give his hand a squeeze. He allowed her this small display.

“We need a plan. And you? You need better soap. Dr. Bronner’s isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

Ros yanked her hand away, horrified. “God you’re rude!”

“You have to stop using that hippy dippy shit. You need something with detergent.”

“Detergents ruin the environment!”

“Yeah, but they are strong enough to remove the vampire off of you. So far I’ve touched your left arm, your neck, your wrists, the cloth around your waist, your hair, and both sides of your right hand. Do you really want to be reeking of me when we finally get you and Godric back together?”

“Oh…well…jeez! Why did you just say so?”

“I told you. I like when you get riled up.” He gave her an impish wink and finished off the O negative, then chucked the bottle into the recycling bin situated on the far side of the room. It was a perfectly clean toss.

“Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. I think you’re familiar with my – how shall we say – charming persistence?”

“God yes. You’re a stubborn ass.”

“Yeah well, brace yourself because Godric is literally the immovable object and the unstoppable force wrapped into one. We need to find a way to get him to do what he already wants to do without him realizing he’s doing it. And it would be really nice for me if he only minimally suspects the extent of my meddling. I’m too pretty to die by dismemberment.”

Chapter Text

Godric sat crouched on the ledge of the Bank of America Plaza building. The wind was still hot, even at these heights, and it whipped angrily around him. He watched the clamoring city below, its little toy cars and little ant people scuttling in sensible lines and 90 degree turns, obeying the rules of the concrete jungle in jagged stop-go motions. He winced. This was supposedly his town. His "domain." Looking out from his perch, he could not muster even a flicker of sentiment for it.

It was not Dallas in particular that he found offensive. It was the total, mind-numbing practicality of it. This was simply a space whose boundaries proved convenient. Eric had been the pioneer, taking a little chunk of territory just out of the sightline of New Orleans. Clever, scheming child. One day the supernatural mecca of the Americas would inevitably be swallowed up by rising seas. They would all come running to his door. Godric's own decision to move to the States had been delayed and avoided and delayed a little more until neither he nor his progeny could bear it any longer. The powers that be offered him all of Texas, which he refused outright. Only a sadist would agree to take on that much paperwork and the dangers of a high-profile position. Austin was already claimed and the area to the north of his child was also unacceptable. It was too close to another ancient like himself. So here he was, the unwilling lord over an unwanted land.

Godric had never been overly attached to the cosmopolitan, though he could not say exactly why. Perhaps it was because he was an untamed wanderer at heart. The whispering thwack of his bare feet racing along damp forest soil and fallen leaves had been his only companion for a millennium. Once he had Eric at his side, however, all that changed. Bit by bit, he indulged his child's curiosity and allowed himself to be dragged to those lively centers of yesteryear. Carthage and Kiev Rus. Prague and Paris. Londinium and Lisboa, and of course, every so often, his unhappiest of homes, Rome. They had hunted and fed and fought, picking off peasants and princes with indifference, amusing themselves with petty intrigues and diversions before moving on. Along the way, Godric mastered more tongues than anyone could possibly have use for and saw more of the world than anyone need see.

For centuries he had been perfectly content with this routine. He had his projects, of course. He was always been a bit of a tinkerer – a 'mad scientist', as his child liked to say. His involvement in the Great Reveal was only the latest experiment. It was fascinating to give the world a nudge every so often and watch how it reverberated.

Only recently had his routine started to niggle at him and feel unsatisfactory. Three months ago, to be precise. Only now did it seem like…not enough. The humans fought the same wars, over and over again with only minor fugues to differentiate each iteration. The supernatural creatures were no better, squabbling and destroying each other for inane ends. Upheavals and downfalls – it all averaged out into a flat line of births and deaths, comings and goings. The same revolutions gave rise to the same old abuses. 'But the inventions!' some might protest. Even the latest trinkets and ideas had become incurably impatient. Everything was a click away. Nothing had finesse. It was an untenable pace, he was certain, this ravenous scramble for the next and the new. No one could race toward the infinite forever. One needed to savor things before moving along. It was a philosophy that had served him well for over two millennia. Yet somehow this restlessness had found its way inside.

Godric leapt headlong over the tower's edge. He let gravity grab at his body, unrelenting, pulling him in for a deadly embrace. It gave him a tiny thrill, the idea of Earth's possessiveness. She wanted her objects smashed against her uncaring bosom. At well over 900 feet, it might have even put a dent in him. But not today. He tucked his knees and rolled several turns before spreading his arms and landing, neatly, knees slightly bent. His sudden appearance terrified an elderly woman. She was walking a ridiculous dog with furry bat ears. The dog yapped at him furiously in surprise. Godric hissed at it and it jumped into the dame's arms. She hurled an insult at him that made others turn and he shrugged and crossed the street, leaving them staring.

On the ground, Godric stalked through throngs of people. He preferred to do security patrols himself at regular intervals, though he had plenty of underlings who were more than capable. It struck him as sloppy to not know the terrain he commanded. But that was not why he was hitting the pavement tonight. He knew his irritability was making everyone in his nest miserable. Isabelle did her best to defuse the tension in her gentle, unobtrusive way. Only Eric was daring enough to pester him with constant questions. But Godric did not yet have any answers to give.

He paused outside a vampire owned bar before going into a drugstore on a whim. The rushing whoosh of the automated doors greeted him with a blast of refrigerated air. Inside, the harsh lighting flared almost painfully in his vision and the buzz of the filaments whined in his ears. He wandered down an aisle, fingering boxes and bottles. Some time ago he had trained as a medical doctor, but the sheer array of supplements and devices and medicaments for human bodies had quadrupled since then. He was examining the latest colloidal silver products available (always good to stay up to date on this front) when an assistant manager sidled up to him.

"Can I help you find anything?"

"No," he said.

"I'm certain you'll find this section more pleasurable." She walked down to the prophylactics. She waggled a container of personal lubricant at him. "Have you tried this?" A quick glance at the packaging revealed that the product was supposed to create a sensation of heat for those bothered by the coolness of their vampire lovers' skin.

"No." Godric snorted. Apparently the product was for those with a naïve understanding of the basic principles of friction and heat diffusion.

"Do you want to try it?" She gestured to the bathroom in the corner of the store.

His nose flared at her obvious arousal. He could tell that this was not the first time she had done this. "The only thing you're going to get inside that bathroom is killed." He turned on his heel and made for the exit, thoroughly galled, but not before two teenagers in the checkout line pointed at him and giggled.

Once he had finished working through the downtown area, Godric moved on to a residential neighborhood where V dealing had been on the rise. The apartment complexes were stacked like dilapidated boxes, piling human lives on top of one another in a jumble. At least the breathers left a few pathetic trees here. They cleaved to the cramped plots of soil allotted to them in regular breaks of the sidewalk. In sympathy, he touched the brown, curling leaves of an especially spindly one.

He decided to pass through a nearby park and made a left turn. It took him out of the alley and back onto a main road. It was then that a faint but persistent thump drew his attention. The sash of a window was pulled up by a tiny human clad in white jammies printed with red fire trucks.

"Are you a tooth fairy?" the little human said in a loud whisper. There was no one else on the street save for a few animals scavenging garbage. Godric looked down at his clothes and wondered if perhaps they had caused the confusion. He was wearing a rather exotic looking tunic made of very fine linen. Isabelle often sewed him things like this; she liked knowing that each stitch was placed with purpose and care. He hoped it did not make him look like a cursed sprite. It must be the streetlamps, he decided. They always made him look especially ethereal to mortals. "I'm no fairy," Godric said with a laugh.

"Oh," the lad said, crestfallen.

"Are you expecting one?"

"Yeah, see." He pointed to a gummy gap in his smile. Godric stepped cautiously towards the window. "I've been waiting all night, but she hasn't come. I think there's a monster under my bed."

"That's highly unusual." Monsters did not hide under beds. He would know.

"Can you check? Mommy won't wake up."

"Why don't you look yourself?"

The boy shook his head vigorously in fear. "Pleassse," he begged, the offending gap giving him a slight lisp.

Godric cocked an ear and focused on the heavy snoring from the room beyond. The heart rate sounded slightly depressed. Doped with pharmaceuticals, he suspected, leaving the poor little bean to fend for himself. Tonight was not looking promising for a show of humanity's finest.

He sighed and climbed in without a proper invitation, dropping easily to the carpeted floor. The recent discovery that a few of the constraints binding his kind were starting to peel away for him was disturbing, to say the least. Everyone needed limits.

Godric made a show of checking first under the bed and then inside the closet. "All clear. I think your Fae tooth thief won't come until you fall sleep," he said.

The boy nodded and watched as Godric picked up a Lego man and inspected it, then set it down. He glamoured the boy to think that the tooth fairy did indeed make an appearance, warning the child to never allow strangers into his home again. As he took his leave, he slipped a small bill under the pillow in accordance with the funny human custom.

In the park, Godric flung the handsome little incisor into the bushes. The only tooth he cared to have in his possession – one of Eric's original fangs – was safely tucked in a vault in Switzerland.

Godric crossed the soccer field. The vegetation there had been sprayed with a fine mist of toxic chemicals to kill the weeds and force the grass to suck up whatever nutrition the ground could yield. It was acrid and stung his nose. Thankfully, no one was out trying to peddle blood, so he laid down on a merry-go-round in the playground. It spun creakily and made the stars circle overhead. A car pulled up and he heard the telltale scratching crackle of a mobile radio unit. The officer approached. Godric did not bother to get up.

"Son? You ain't s'posed to be here. Park closes at 9pm."

"I'll be on my way," he said impassively.

"Boy, you best get up an' git. Now." Godric raised his head and rolled to a sit. "Jesus and Mary!" the cop cried and reached for his gun. He drew it shakily. "Now you listen here you fanger, I got this loaded with wood bullets. Git the hell outta here."

"Seriously?" Godric stood and the officer cocked the weapon. "You'd shoot a person for sitting quietly in a public space?"

"Fff..fffuckin' go on! Disperse!"

In a flash so fast the man was nearly knocked down, Godric had the gun in his hand, the magazine on the ground, and the slide pulled back, popping the remaining bullet in the chamber through the air. He caught it in an outstretched hand and took a single, menacing step forward.

So terrifying was the diminutive, pale angel of death that the policeman's bladder let loose. Godric looked down at the stinking hot stream of urine leaking onto the man's shiny shoes. "This bullet? It is made of an oak that was three times your age. You would use it to gun down something many, many times older than that. Why? Simply because you are afraid of it? Because I am different?" He pulverized the pellet to dust between two fingers, giving a clear visual of exactly what he might do to the soft-tissued human before him.

"Ah, ah, um…" The man blubbered, holding his hands in front of him in a feeble plea for pardon.

"Humans cut down ancient trees as old as me just to make toilet paper to wipe the filth from their bodies. Is that the value of life to you? Is that the value of my life?" Godric was seething and not entirely sure whom he was asking. "Get out of my sight. If you ever draw a weapon on a vampire again and I hear of it -" He glanced at his badge. "I will make sure that it is for the last time, Officer R. Smith, Number 9063."

He took to the sky, dismayed that the patrol had only worsened his fractious mood. When he stormed through the front door of his residence, the few vampires in the nest scrambled to get out of his way. Godric stripped, leaving a trail of his clothing down the hallway, and dove into the far end of the pool, letting himself sink to the bottom. He screamed in a furious column of bubbles.

Surrounded in this watery cocoon, the pleasant, low hum of the pump drowned out the better part of the constant buzz and drone of the house's electronics. It was here that he had to confront what he already knew. He was frighteningly on edge and barely in control and it had nothing to do with urban life or noisy technology or even the zombie humans. It was him.

And it was her.

He began swimming laps, his body a slick muscled torpedo of streaking limbs and azure ink. Godric swam for hours, well past dawn. It was yet another useless perk of his age – the sunrise no longer predictably lulled him into a peaceful sleep. Sometimes it did, other times he was left up to his own devices. It would have been convenient if his insomnia had been granted alongside immunity to the sun's rays, but alas, he had tested it, with spectacularly failed results. So a Gollum he would have to remain, lurking in the dark even at the height of day. What a bummer.

He had fervently hoped that his experimentation with various fasts would help dampen his powers and help with the insomnia, but it had not really done much in the end. He barely needed blood these days and he could not explain his actions to Eric. His child would never understand why he would purposefully want to weaken himself. Eric certainly did not need to be given another reason to very wrongly treat him like a living god. More importantly, Godric did not wish to burden him further with more of his dangerous secrets. Eric already tended a boneyard of these on his behalf.

Around noon, it suddenly dawned on him that he was obsessively pacing the pool like a manic animal. It was getting him nowhere. He stilled, then slipped out of the water in a single motion and swaddled himself in an oversized towel.

In his study, his hands knew where the book waited without looking. It fell open to the page without searching. A brittle orange flower, preserved at the height of its bloom, lay there flat and undying. It was not the largest text he owned, nor was it even rare, but the tome of E.E. Cummings' collected works was filled with elegant and unexpected words that reminded him of the woman he met in the desert.

Godric very gently pushed the poppy aside and reread the poem he chose to keep it company.

plant Magic dust

expect hope doubt

(wonder mistrust)

despair

and right

where soulless our

(with all their minds)

eyes blindly stare

life herSelf stands

He sat on the floor spread eagle in his dark blue terrycloth, book between his legs, and let his mind revisit that night. The fearless, passionate woman he had encountered had insisted he was somehow cosmically connected to all creation. To the delicate blossom under his fingertips. To the rock and the valley and the soaring, infinite skies. To her. She had said it so easily and with such conviction and…wonder. He had almost forgotten that particular feeling existed.

He thought of the way his desert beauty stared unflinching into his eyes and how her gaze reflected the most improbable of things – awe. Of him! He remembered her touch, their music, each moan. How her erotic kiss made him weak in the knees and stole the breath that he did not need from his chest. He thought of the rumble of her laugh against his teeth in her throat and the pulsing pleasure she gave – and he took.

It was this thought that always proved fatal to his reveries. It was where the symmetry ended – indeed, where it died on his very lips. He was vampire. He took and did not give. He dealt only in death. She radiated life. The woman had accused him of sharing something with her, but he still could not fathom what he had to offer. The question gnawed at him. He wanted answers but he increasingly suspected he would not find them in himself.

He needed her.

Since their paths crossed, the memory of her had slowly drained the color from everything else. It had made his life feel unbearably dull in comparison. He had never seen someone so enamored of the world. The simple rarity of seeing something unanticipated was only part of his fascination. It was also how her joy had been so pure and unrestrained. He wanted it and yet he feared for how easily he would destroy it. He wanted to see the world anew through her eyes. He wanted to what? Connect? Yes, he reasoned. That must be it. But a vampire could not cling to the impermanent. Time would ravage him. Nostalgia was an anchor cast of anguish for his kind. He could easily drown in the swift undertow of the past. A sense of foreboding settled over him.

Godric slipped the book back in its place on the shelf. He walked the room, not feeling the slightest bit tired. He was pacing again, poor caged beast that he was. The postcards in his desk remained firmly under lock and key and he studiously avoided them. They were untraceable notes all written in the same hand. They taunted him with wondrous, seductive visions. Their very existence felt like a dare. He was being provoked, but who would be so bold?

His mind supplied the haunting answer. He wanted this provocation to be from Her. Something sour curdled in his throat. It had an off flavor and tasted suspiciously like fear. What if they were not from her?

Doubt and desire circled in his head in a vicious parade. In the past, he had played with others' lives like a child spinning tops. He wound them up and set them loose, happy to see how things would careen out of control and topple. But he had never been connected to whatever catastrophic results he had generated. He never toyed with his own life. He did not know this game. It was new and thrilling, but the rules were unknown and the objective still unclear. His head told him to savor this sense of novelty, but he found he did not like it. Not at all.

Several hours later, Godric's body finally decided to start the bleeds, but by then it was dusk. He was on the floor again, flat on his back. "What the hell is wrong with me!" he said aloud, slamming his head against the parquet. He felt completely and utterly ridiculous. He had let himself become unnerved by a silly human woman.

He made a split-second decision. 'Fuck patience,' as his Eric would say. He called out for Isabelle. His second in command instantly materialized in the doorway. "I need to speak with Amleth."

"Right away, Sheriff."

Minutes later she handed him the phone. "Lord Godric," a familiar voice responded.

"You sound like you're talking through a tin can. I trust you are well?"

"I am. What can I do for you?"

"You can still trace Eric's accounts, yes?"

Amleth was the only creature alive that Godric trusted with such delicate family business. Though he had been turned by another, Amleth looked to him as a second maker of sorts and had always treated Eric with the amused tolerance of an older brother.

"Of course," Amleth said. The raven-haired vampire was sitting at his desk in the London financial district.

"I need you to find someone. A mortal woman about 30 years old. She would have popped up on his radar three months ago. He won't have her on any regular payroll; look for large transfers or any pattern of unexplained expenditures. It's probably buried pretty well."

"Who's he trying to woo now?"

"Believe it or not, no one."

"Get out. Well, color me intrigued."

"Call me if you find anything."

"I'm already on it."

In the living room of the Dallas mansion, Isabelle could not help but overhear the conversation. She looked over at the settee where their grisly cowboy assassin sat reading an old copy of America's Civil War Magazine.

"Thank God!" she said silently, shaking her fists in victory. Stan glanced up from his article and shrugged in disinterest.

Not twenty minutes later, Isabelle's awful little cellular device started screeching and buzzing. Godric answered with a grunt.

"Got her. You were right. It wasn't exactly easy."

Godric sighed in relief. In some matters, his child was blessedly predictable. After catching Eric speaking with the woman at the festival, he knew what Eric's next three moves would be before the Viking himself did. But still. Some little part of him had been terrified he had miscalculated. "Go on," he said.

"He liquidated some of his holdings in that shipping concern you all started in the '60s then moved it all around in about a hundred different directions. But you'll love this…"

"Yes?"

"Eric has been throwing cash at her consistently for months."

"I assumed."

"She's sent it all back."

Godric erupted in laughter and quickly covered his mouth, realizing everyone in the house would have heard. Still, it was too delightful. He could only imagine how bedeviled his child must be. "Did she now?" he said, steadying his composure.

"Yep. What do you want on her? I've got everything that was immediately available – family, background check, credit history -"

"No!" he barked. "Sorry. I mean…I just wanted to confirm that you could track her down."

Amleth was silent for a long moment, trying to gauge Godric's peculiar behavior. "Shall I keep tabs on her then?"

"No. No, that won't be necessary."

"Okay. Everything alright? I can be on the next flight out of here if you need me."

"No, all is well, child. Keep this between us."

"Suit yourself. Call if you require anything else." Amleth went to hang up.

"Wait!" Godric said.

"Yes?"

"What…what is her name? Just her first name."

Amleth was stunned again by his elder. "Her name is Rosalyn. Her friends call her Ros."

"Rosalyn," he breathed. A fine shiver of goosebumps settled over his skin.

Chapter Text

Rosalyn was absolutely floored by the sheer scale of Eric’s plan.  She wanted to help vampires go to school, so what did Eric suggest? He offered to create a university.

Not immediately, he explained. But this would be part of their end game. “Is everything you do just completely, madly, totally over the top?” she asked, jaw agape.

“Look, poppet. This is something you want, yes? Let’s make it happen. It’s a damn fine idea and everybody wins. You get what you want, I get to give you what you want, and it creates the perfect excuse to wheedle Godric into the same room as you. The only downside is that we can’t take credit for it.”

“But it’s…it’s so…”

“Fantastic of me?”

“Ugh, no! I was going to say overwhelming! I don’t even know how to go about something like this! How are we even going to come up with the seed money for it?”

“I don’t quite think you understand the sort of resources we have at our disposal.  Here’s what I’m thinking…”

~~~O~~~

 It took a full two months of frenzied work to organize the fundraiser. Convincing Louisiana’s Queen Sophie-Anne to play hostess had been the easy part. She was all too happy to take full credit and do none of the heavy lifting. Coming out in full support of vampire education could only help her public image. More time consuming for Eric and Pamela was the flurry of activity to design invitations, draw up guest lists, hunt down speakers, and launch a national advertising campaign – all while staying fully under the radar.

Nonprofit licenses were secured, a board of trustees appointed, and accounts were formed to hold the inevitable influx of money. Key donors were tapped and more than a few old rivalries were put aside for the benefit of a higher cause. Ros consulted by phone as necessary, giving her input about the critical issues and putting just the right spin on the informational materials. Eric had to admit, she had a special way about her. Creatures of every ilk would be welcome to the new university and in true liberal arts fashion, the hope was that the campus would be a breeding ground of critical discussion, inquiry, and inter-species understanding.

With the amount of buzz stirring around America’s path-breaking – and youngest – university, everyone who was anyone wanted to be involved. The charity ball would be a beautiful, classy affair in New Orleans. All they needed now was a way to ensure that a certain ancient Sheriff of Dallas attended.

~~~O~~~

Throughout their plotting, Eric had been extremely careful to continue harassing his maker with routine visits. Deviating from his behavior now would send up a red flag. When he made the short flight to Godric’s nest one evening, he found his maker chewing out a couple of underlings in his office in an especially hateful tone. Godric had grown increasingly taciturn, as was evidenced by the young vampire who was sent flying out the doorway.  The other underling was unceremoniously tossed out by the scruff of her neck.

Eric politely inquired about the trouble they had caused before casually flipping an invitation across Godric’s desk.  It slid to a stop just in front of his maker’s left hand. “It would do you good to get out of dodge for a day or two.”

Godric glanced at it and continued writing up the report on the underlings. “What’s this?”

“Some charity gig in NOLA. Sophie-Anne’s roped me into putting in an appearance and DJing the opening act.”

Godric did not hide his scowl. He set down his pen. “She uses you like a dancing bear. This is not what I taught you to be.”

“It was a good trade. She is giving me extra paid leave time.”

The Celt’s frown deepened. “You’re not going away, are you?” His voice cracked, betraying his concern.

“No. I just wanted to keep my options open. I like being able to remind the Queen she owes me something.”

“Ah.” Godric sunk back into his chair.

“Admit it. You could use a vacation. You’re going to end up killing someone by accident if you don’t unwind.”

“Perhaps.”

Eric put his back to his maker and strolled to a side table, feigning interest in a stack of catalogs. In his mind, he envisioned his bond as a thick cord and he squeezed it with a mental fist as hard as he could. It was the only way to choke off the flicker of sensations that flowed in their unusually close bond. He could let nothing through if he hoped to succeed.  Godric felt him do this, but the trick was to make him believe it was to hide fear rather than a lie. “Be my ‘plus one’? It will make the whole thing so much more bearable. Between Sophie-Anne and that jerkoff from Nevada, I may well die of boredom.”

“It will be well attended?”

Godric took the bait.  He assumed Eric was being flippant because he was actually concerned. “Everyone will be there. New York. Mississippi. Aforementioned jerkoff from Nevada. I’m surprised your King hasn’t mentioned it.”

“You know Peter doesn’t bother me with such trifles,” Godric said. He bit his lip, the wheels in his lightning-fast head spinning through the information. Eric did not want to go to the event alone. Old vampires would be there. Queen Sophie-Anne obviously valued his presence enough to bargain generously. Eric would be distracted with noise and lights, possibly his back exposed to their enemies while operating this musical equipment. It sounded like the perfect opportunity for an ambush. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, neither do I but I can’t really see how to get out of it.”

His maker muttered something in ancient Gaelic under his breath. “I will go. When is it?”

Eric clamped down on the bond with all of his might. He allowed only the slightest bit of relief to leak out. “Two weeks.”

“Fine.”

“Wear the tux with the black tie. I hate you in bowties. You look like a dweeb.”

Godric quirked an eyebrow at his progeny’s cheekiness. “Duly noted. Is there anything else? I’ve got an 11pm meet and greet with a new resident and a courtesy call to the local packmaster to make.”

“Can I help?”

“Don’t you have your own territory to run?” he said, not hiding his exasperation.

Eric shrugged. “Area Five practically runs itself these days. Pam is doing a bang-up job as my second.”

“No doubt.” Godric ran a hand through his hair. The thought of his grandprogeny softened the hard line set in his jaw. “She is a credit to our bloodline. Tell her I am pleased to hear she excels in her work.”

“Thank you, Maker, for everything.”

It was a miracle Eric managed to escape the office without letting his excitement slip out. He flew home in crazed kamikaze circles, channeling his energy into physical exertion. The trip between Dallas and Shreveport was relatively quick – no more than a jaunt, really – but he entertained himself by counting the six large lakes between the two cities. One, two, three, four. He had a habit of dropping his altitude low to skim a hand through each. The spray he sendt across the water’s surface disturbed the alligators. They thrashed in great splashes to avoid a predator they intuitively knew was far more lethal. Nearing his city, he slowed as he passed Big Lake to snag a fisherman’s buoy. He slung the mucky trap over his shoulder. On the outskirts of Shreveport, he touched down on a private dock in an overgrown cove of Cross Lake. He sunk the trap back into the murky water and secured it to a cleat on the wooden pier where the inhabitant of the modest house was sure to find it. Eric often left things like this for the old man that lived here. Rupert had been his dayman for the better part of thirty years before he asked to retire. Eric had tried to convince him to settle in one of the grander homes on the opposite shore, or even move back to his own estate in New York where they had met, but old Rupert said he just wanted a quiet place to fish. So be it. Rupert would at least have a big crawdaddy dinner.

Eric rocketed off soundlessly into the sky and within minutes he was at his own residence.  He quickly dismissed the idea of putting in time at Fangtasia. Instead, he texted Ros with two simple words:

'Game on.'

Chapter Text

Rosalyn struggled to zip herself into the floor length gown. When she finally wrestled it on, she was momentarily stunned by the vision she saw in the mirror. Silver beaded sequins and gentle swooping lines had somehow transformed her into a luminescent, ethereal creature. She was loathe to admit it, but Pam’s judgment had been spot-on.

They had argued viciously over the phone about her attire for the ball. When Pam unilaterally declared that Rosalyn would be wearing the couture dress she had ordered or nothing at all, there was little point in arguing with the bossy vampiress. She did not want to test just how literally Pam meant the threat. Rosalyn was pretty certain that was a fight she would lose.

The dress had arrived at the ritzy New Orleans hotel early that morning packed in layers of tissue paper with sprigs of lavender. She supposed the herbs were meant to help cover the scents of the many hands that had been involved in creating the one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Rosalyn shuddered to think of the exorbitant cost. At least she pulled it off. She had been concerned that such a fancy piece of clothing would wear her rather than the other way around.

She was ready well before it was time to go, which left her plenty of time to grow anxious. Rosalyn jumped when she heard her phone ping with a text message. She dreaded that something would go wrong. It was just Eric confirming that everything was set. Ros paced her room, trying to calm herself. She was finally going to see Godric. But would he be pleased to see her?

~OOO~

The first guests began to arrive. Eric was double checking his playlist at the DJ table when he saw Godric stroll in across Sophie-Anne’s enormous garden courtyard. “Oh what the hell!” he said, throwing down his earphones. Early on, he had decided that he would cover his giddiness about tonight by pretending to be an absolute beast. It would certainly be nothing new for him.

“Good to see you too, child.”

“God dammit, Godric. Where is your tie? It’s a black-tie event!”

“They let me in, no?” Godric’s custom Tom Ford suit was immaculately pressed. The lines showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. But his dress shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and his hair tousled from flying.

“You did this just to spite me, didn’t you? You always do this!”

Godric stood impassively, hands jammed deep into his pockets. “Are you quite finished?”

“No, I’m livid. I ask you to do one simple thing for me and you refuse. I swear on Odin’s beard that every single time…”

“Leave the old gods out of this. Here.” Godric reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a little black silk roll. “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled.” Eric gave him an icy look. “Relax. I haven’t seen you this nervous since the Third Witch War. I have your back.”

Eric quickly knotted the tie. He slipped it around Godric’s neck a little rougher than necessary. His maker merely chuckled and adjusted the knot so he was not being choked.

“Sophie-Anne got wind that you might attend and she wants you to make a speech,” Eric said.

“Absolutely not. I hate giving speeches.”

“No, you suck at giving speeches, that’s different. But still, I want you to get up there and say a few words. Make them dig deep into their wallets. Politically, it is a good move for us and you’ll be able to best scan the crowd while you’re on stage.”

“Eric…”

“Please. Just do it. No more arguing. I’ll even write out a few words so you don’t have to think about it.”

Godric grunted his displeasure. “Fine. Where’s Pamela?”

“She’s stuck backstage, but I’ve got security all over her. She’ll be okay.”

Godric scanned the growing crowds. The night was still young and so were the partygoers. There was not a single creature in the palace that he could not kill within seconds. The ancients would arrive later. These were the vampires he would watch most closely, the ones that posed the greatest threat. In the meantime, it seemed like a pleasant sort of event. Servers in white livery milled about with shiny chrome trays offering blood cocktails. The air was filled with the scent of fresh cut flowers. “You’ve fed tonight?” Godric inquired.

“Of course.”

“Do you want me to top you up?” he said absentmindedly. He was counting the number of werewolves stationed near the exits.

“What? No! Fuck. Are you crazy? You are pale enough as it is.” Godric froze. He had accidentally brought up the uncomfortable subject. “They’re not serving synthetic,” Eric said hastily. “Can I order you something?”

“I’m going to walk the perimeter and then say hello to Pamela. Let me know when you want me on stage.

“Whatever.” Eric spun around and returned to fussing with the cables at his DJ booth.

~OOO~

“Ladies and gentlemen, creatures of the night and human companions, we are so pleased to welcome you to this evening’s charity ball!” Sophie-Anne trilled her introduction at the audience.

Godric stood in the wing offstage with Pamela, nervously flicking the cue card Eric had written out for him over and over with the edge of his thumb. “You look so handsome tonight, Grandsire,” Pam whispered. The compliment caught him off guard.

“Do I?”

“Smashing. It reminds me of Paris in the roaring ‘20s. Remember?” She smoothed the flop of hair he had grown out into a shapely coif. “There. Debonair as ever.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he said. He went to say something, but another round of clapping drew his attention back to the dreaded stage. A series of famous vampires and other respected elders paraded across it, each offering compassionate words about the importance of giving newly turned progeny the best possible start in their undead lives. “What is the School of Night Fund actually for?” he asked the blonde at his side.

Pam was taken by surprise. “To help baby vamps…you know…learn our ways, be the best vampires they can be and so on,” she said, keeping it as vague as possible.

“Oh,” he said, furrowing his brow. Something imprecise nagged at him in the back of his mind.

When it was his turn, Godric strode over to the podium in his typical unassuming way. His appearance sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd. There were a number of elders in attendance. All ‘felt’ old, but Godric’s dark aura of ancient power was unique – the stuff of legends. He fumbled with the microphone, trying to bring it down to his level. It let out a horrid screech of feedback noise over the speakers. Everyone stood rapt, fascinated to see what The Boy Death would say.

Which was exactly why Godric detested these sort of scenarios.

“Good evening. I am Godric of…” He blinked several times. The powerful lights blinded him to the audience beyond. He could not see a single face. To Hell with the stage being a strategic surveillance point. He felt marooned. “…of Texas,” he stumbled, nearly saying the wrong kingdom. “…where I am Sheriff of Area Nine.” He glanced down at the card. The spotlight glaring down at him had seared into his sensitive retinas creating a phantom image that refused to disappear. The amorphous fuzzy blob blotted out Eric’s neat handwriting. He could not read a thing. He frantically blinked again to clear his vision, to no avail. He tucked the card away and folded his hands behind his back. In the DJ booth, Eric saw his maker abandon the script. Shit. He was going to try to riff.

“I had something prepared to say tonight, but I think it is best if I speak instead from the plain truth of my experience and not some eloquent but no doubt canned speech. Forgive me if my words seem unrefined. I am an old vampire, as I’m sure you can tell, and I come from a time when life was short and deeds meant more than anything one might say.” He took the microphone out of its cradle and walked along the proscenium towards the audience. Everyone in the front visibly retracted, stepping a pace or two back.

Double shit. Eric was about to panic. He could pull the plug on the AV system if Godric went too off the rails weird. He had his hand on the master plug, ready.

“I see you younglings before me, so new, so tender.” Godric sat down, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the stage. His soft voice and near submissive position were a complete act, but it drew the crowd back in. “Perhaps you are wondering what truth I have discovered after two millennia. I will disappoint you. There are no secrets to surviving as long as I have.”

Suddenly the moist bayou breeze shifted. A faint scent in the air distracted him and he momentarily forgot what he was saying. But no, it couldn’t be.

Godric frowned, falling into uncomfortable silence. “Giving one’s sacred blood does not make you a maker. It is what you do in the days and months and years and centuries afterwards. To guide, to teach, to lead by example, to allow one’s child the freedom to succeed – and the space to fail – none of these things come naturally. The same goes for being a worthy progeny. It takes work to become great. It requires commitment and focus and time. If there is no single secret to eternity, it is because we must eternally adapt and evolve and learn.”

One could have heard a pin drop in the audience. They were hanging on his every word.

“In many ways, I was born the night I turned my child.” A little smile threaded across his face, recalling the exact moment Eric came to life as a vampire. There were gasps and tears in the audience. “I have grown and changed every night since, as has he. I had nothing and no one to help me teach my progeny, but times have changed and so must we. Together we can help young vampires…and the elderly.”

The words came out of his mouth without planning them. They were the same that he and his desert blossom had spoken to each other nearly half a year ago. The breeze picked up again and he realized he was not imagining things. She was here. Rosalyn was here, somewhere in the crowd. And this cause…this was hers.

The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked together.

This was a setup. Eric, that bastard. He lied to him. Godric looked out into the darkness where he knew his child was and glared viciously. “As you might imagine, as a maker, I needed all the help I could get raising my little hellion of a Viking.” There were a few knowing chuckles in the audience. Mostly there was silence as folks imagined how terrifying it would have been to have Death as their master. “But, I think you may know, I too had a little bit of a reputation to work through.” People howled in laughter. “Which is why this fundraiser is so important. Makers and progeny need support. They need access to quality education. Tonight, let’s make sure they get it.” Godric paused. A devious ribbon of a smile slithered across his face. “I am pleased to announce that for every pledge made tonight, my son, Sheriff of Louisiana’s own Area Five, will match it – dollar for dollar – with his own contribution. Thank you.”

Godric jumped to his feet as nimbly as a cat and plunked the mic back in its stand. He walked off the stage to the sound of roaring applause. He breezed by Pamela, ignoring her completely. Her jaw hung wide.

The famous French DJ who was meant to spin with Eric was shaking the vampire by the arm, trying to get him to start the music. Eric was stock still in shock. Finally, the human shoved past him and started working the record tables, flooding the courtyard with pulsing dance beats.

It took nearly thirty minutes for Godric to make his way through the sea of faces congratulating him on his thoughtful speech and the extraordinary generosity of his family. The guests bowed and curtsied in deep respect. But every single person stayed out of arm’s reach of the infamous elder. Only a few dared to look him directly in the eyes.

When Godric finally neared the DJ booth, Eric abandoned his station to hiss into his maker’s ear. He pulled Godric into the small tent that hid the tangle of wires and AV equipment. The tent would shield them from view. “You’ve bankrupted us!”

“What?” Godric drew back in mock surprise. “No, I’ve done no such thing. I’ve bankrupted you.” Eric tried for words but failed. He had known that there would be blowback when Godric figured out that he had been manipulated, but this? This was staggering. “I doubt they’ll raise much more than a half a billion tonight. That will hardly make a dent in things.”

“I’ll have to sell off some of our most prized treasures! The Da Vinci, maybe, or Caesar’s gold.”

“And none so priceless as you!” Godric barked, making his child cower. He yanked off the loathsome tie constricting his throat and, whipping it around Eric’s neck, pulls his child within inches of his face. He fell into old Norse, lest anyone nearby understand their conversation. “You made me believe you were in danger! I’ve been worried sick for weeks now, thinking your life was at risk. I was prepared to take the state. To kill every last monarch here if need be! Do you even realize how many assassins are here, awaiting my orders? I was ready to start a war for a little boy who cried wolf!” He released the makeshift garrote and hurled the tie at Eric.

“Am I not allowed the same? I’d do far worse if it meant saving you from whatever abyss you’ve let yourself fall into! Things haven’t been right with you for decades. You won’t tell me what is wrong. You won’t let me in. And when someone finally manages to get through your inscrutable head, you command me to silence.”

“I knew you would interfere. I was relying on you to interfere. I just…I didn’t think you’d go so far. Do not ever do this again.”

“Blood of my blood,” Eric gasped, “I will do anything it takes to protect you. Even if it is from yourself. Especially if that is what I’m up against.”

Godric let his head fall back. He had pushed his child to desperation. Something stirred inside him. “Do I really seem so far gone to everyone?” The defeated look on Eric’s face was all the answer he needed. “I…oh…” It was a shocking realization.

Godric stepped back out into the balmy night air and let his gaze drift around the party. He should have realized all the tasteful catering and décor was Pam’s doing. Pleasant fountains trickled and floating candles bobbed on their surface, giving off soft, twinkling light. Tables were draped in delicate swags of cabbage roses and ranunculus. Even the gold embossed invitation should have tipped him off. It was all too lovely. All of this was for him.

And for her. For Rosalyn.

“Tell me something. Was it her?” He hesitated, fearing disappointment. “Did she send the postcards?”

“Yes, maker,” Eric said. He placed a hand on Godric’s shoulder.

A faint glitter of mischief alighted in Godric’s sea green eyes. It quickly darkened with suspicion. “Did you compel her?”

“No. It was all her, obviously. She speaks to you in a way I do not understand, but it makes you happy. You deserve to be happy, Godric. I merely gave her your address.”

“And she is here of her own accord?”

“Barring my ‘arrangements’?” he said. “Yes, of course.” Eric gambled on what he said next. “Go to her.”

Godric’s mouth twitched. He considered the crushing temptation to steal the woman away and indulge his most private fantasies. All too quickly a shudder of horror coursed through him. Eric saw the gooseflesh rise on the back of Godric’s neck. “I will hurt her. I can only give her pain.”

Eric turned Godric to face him, gently, in case he reacted poorly to being further manhandled. “Maker, I say this with a millennium of love and respect between us. You are wrong. You are wrong and you have stopped listening to your own advice. You are refusing to move on.” Godric’s eyes flickered up at his lanky child. “I thought for a while that you were simply taking your sweet time because you wanted to savor the hunt. She’s the only thing that has interested you in a century. But you’re not hunting her. You’re letting something fleeting and precious slip through your fingers and it’s the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“That’s preposterous. I’ve done disgusting, horrible -”

“No. This will be the worst. Because if you reject her, you are rejecting yourself. You think you cloak yourself so cleverly in the bond, but I know you. I feel that darkness I knew once in you. I sense that monster again. And you’ve embraced him, Godric. Only this time, you’ve unleashed that destructiveness on yourself. You are giving up on living completely. You are choosing Death over all of us.”

Eric had run full-speed into a wall. There was nothing left but brutal honesty and the hope that things were not as bleak as they might seem. This was not at all how he imagined this night proceeding.

“Child,” Godric said. “Eiríkr…” He shaded his eyes with long, curling lashes. For a brief moment, Eric thought his maker was going to contradict him. “You are perfect. My masterpiece.” Godric sucked in a ragged breath, his voice thick with pride – and pain. “I fulfilled my promise. I taught you everything I know.”

Godric confirmed his worst fears. Eric felt the delicate filaments of his world begin to shatter. He grasped his maker’s arms with white knuckles, trembling, terrified to let go. His eyes welled with crimson tears. He tried to master the searing tangle of emotions that rocketed through their bond, but he could not. His maker’s words overwhelmed him – for the compliment so grand it defied belief and for the devastating implication hidden in between. “You would not…”

“For two millennia, I have taken from this world. I have taken untold amounts of life. I took you, Eric. There is no more purpose for me. I have nothing to give her.”

The declaration felt like a twist of a knife in Eric’s belly. His desperation turned to anger. “You’re so fucking starved you aren’t thinking clearly! You don’t even know what she wants from you! Why don’t you ask her? You are many things, but I’ve never known you to be such a stupendous coward!” Godric growled in protest. “March your ancient ass over there like the man you are and ask that human what you can give her. And good fucking luck, too, because I can’t figure her out. She’s just like you, Godric. This was the best I could manage.” Eric gestured to splendid charity ball around them. “If it costs me every dime I’ve ever saved it is worth it.”

Godric’s jaw was set hard and his nostrils flared in anger. “Decide,” Eric said. “Tonight. Right now. Choose to live or I will leave.” Tears streaked down his face. Never before had it come to such dire ultimatums. “Snäll Goðrík.”

The diminutive Celt shifted uncomfortably. Eric had fallen to his knees in supplication. Godric’s hand unwittingly ran through his progeny’s soft, gold-spun hair. “Just…ask?” he said. Eric nodded against Godric’s abdomen.

Godric pulled him to his feet and pushed a handkerchief to his chest. When Eric spins around, he saw Godric walking calmly through the crowd. With determination. With renewed purpose.

Chapter Text

Godric threaded his way through the clusters of mingling guests. The restless bayou breeze shifted across Sophie-Anne’s garden courtyard and he allowed himself a full, deep-chested breath. Instantly, his senses were set ablaze. He was assaulted with useless information about the hundreds of vampires in attendance. He could feel the spectrum of their ages radiating all around him. A spare few warranted more than a glance. Only two were worthy of a nod. Earthy smells rose from the vampires’ shoes and even from their skin; he recognized the turf upon which they had tread, the ground that birthed them. There were not nearly as many humans present, but their scents rose above all other things, swelling up and overwhelming everything else. He could practically taste their salty sweat and the stench of the vampires who had claimed them as meals or pets.

Before the cacophony of smells could thoroughly revolt him, he picked out the faint scent of rosehips. He latched onto it with laser-like focus. His gait instinctively changed. He treaded lightly, toes first, in silent, swift footsteps – the walk of a predator.

He had not imagined stalking up to Rosalyn in a crowded black tie party surrounded by spectators. No. He had fanaticized plenty, but not this. He had thought that, if and when he went to her, he might perhaps happen to “run into” her happenstance one evening in Portland. It was embarrassing, but the temptation to look Rosalyn up online had proven too great. He hated that he couldn’t resist the urge. Damnable internet. It made everything so easy, so instantaneous. He had found her faculty page and spent more hours than he was willing to admit staring at her cheerful photograph. She wore her hair back in a professional chignon which obscenely exposed the gorgeous column of her throat. He had imagined that they might sit down in some waterfront restaurant and talk for long hours, after which they would end up coupling in a commandeered skiff on the Willamette River in the moonlight. Or, he had quite seriously entertained the idea of registering for one of her classes. It pleased him greatly to think of the shocked look she might have on her face as he took a seat while she called attendance. He would even take a backpack -and one of those black and white composition notebooks. Then he would ask to see her in office hours and ravish her on her desk amid term papers and piles of books. Either way, he wanted to crush his fangs into that pulsing creamy neck and sink his member between her slim, beckoning thighs. Repeatedly.

Godric inhaled again. The delicate aroma was richer, closer. The human was perhaps 40 yards away, though he could not see her yet. Rosalyn. Hot, sweet, delicious, beautiful Rosalyn.

Without warning, his fangs suddenly slammed down. A vampiress next to him heard the snick of his teeth and she yipped in terror and flailed backwards, sending her and her table crashing to the ground. Godric was stunned by his own lack of control. He rushed to offer the woman a hand. “Madame, my apologies. Please.” His fangs were still dropped and she scuttled further out of his reach in abject fear. Two of her companions helped her up and they begged Godric’s pardon – regardless that he was to blame. He sucked hard at his gums to force his teeth away and hailed a waiter with drinks, hoping to dispel the scene he had caused. He righted the table and the server quickly passed out fresh blood cocktails. Godric apologized again with a bow and backed away.

He walked a short distance, only to stop in his tracks, unnerved by his own behavior. He was completely unprepared for this encounter - in more ways than one. Godric ran a hand through his hair, mussing the carefully shaped coif Pamela had given him earlier backstage. What in god’s name was he thinking? He had dropped fang like a newborn and was hunting a human he intensely desired with nothing but starvation and lingering fury at his manipulative child as fuel. It was a perfect recipe for a bloodlust-driven disaster. In public, no less!

He was not thinking clearly. He was not even in the realm of good judgment - not by a long shot. Eric was right. He let the revelation sink in. Somewhere along the way Godric had let his ascetic tendencies twist into something horribly wrong. All of his preaching about the importance of stoicism, about the necessity for restraint and absolute mastery over one’s emotions – all of it had utterly backfired. His increasingly vicious attempts at self-denial were not about control. They were obsessive. Compulsive. Only he could not see the forest for the trees.

Until now. How rare that Eric had to step in and guide him, to play the father as he had promised. Then again, his child always did have a knack for seeing through others’ bullshit. The thought made Godric laugh out loud. He ignored the guests that cast leery looks at the odd vampire standing alone, talking to himself. He could care less that they gave him a wide berth.

Whether Eric knew it or not, his child had also given him the missing puzzle piece Godric had been after for months. Just ask her what she wants, Eric had said. Godric had racked his mind for a way to involve a human in his life without degrading her with one of the ugly titles his kind reserved for her species or exposing her to the brutal violence of vampire politics. It seemed impossible and this too had kept him from going to her.

“Just ask her what she wants,” he affirmed out loud. Such an elegant and simple solution. He’d had it completely backwards. He needed to know how she wanted him to be involved in her world – assuming she even wanted him at all. He needed to be honest with her about what and who he was, although secretiveness was second nature to him. The thought quickly formed into a plan and Godric was suddenly filled with a tremendous sense of relief.

He banished his ill-hatched fantasies of river walks and classrooms. These were selfish desires. If Rosalyn was here now it was because perhaps, just perhaps, she wished to see him. He was going to ask. He would allow Rosalyn to lead. He would let a human take control! He would be up front with the realities of vampires and let her set the terms of their relationship. No more self-harm. No more abnegation and denial. Let her shape his boundaries. The idea was foreign and utterly bizarre. He had no idea what that might look like or where such an adventure might take him. And that made it positively thrilling.

Godric was so lost in thought that he did not notice the waiter approach him warily. “Uhhh….wwuu….wuuuould you care for a drink?” a trembling youngling said.

“What?” Godric said.

“AB negative daiquiris, your…um…your highness…your ancient-ness.”

Godric quirked an eyebrow at the rangy kid. “‘Sir’ will do.”

“Ssssssssir.” The tray full of tall glasses with umbrellas and straws clattered dangerously in his shaky hands. Godric took one of the drinks and then reconsidering the gravity of his fang gaffe, grabbed a second one. He swiftly discarded the ridiculous paper umbrellas and straws. The waiter’s eyes went square as the ancient vampire proceeded to chug one glass after the other, not bothering to feign savoring the rare blood.

The cocktails were slightly sweet. No doubt the donor humans had been force fed strawberries or something equally idiotic, as if it really enhanced the flavor. All Godric tasted was high blood sugar and an elevated risk for developing Type-II diabetes. But he needed the blood badly and the heat in his belly combined with his sense of renewed purpose made him feel mischievous. He turned his attention back to the boy, glancing at his nametag. “Who is your maker?”

“Ken O’Malley,” the boy squeaked.

“Of?”

“Of? You mean like where he’s from? Uh, Atlanta.”

“Atlanta, sir,” he corrected. “I do not know him. Tell him Godric says your manners are deplorable and you don’t know the difference between a prince and a pauper. Kings and Queens are Majesties, High Council members are Honors, and Sheriffs are Sheriffs obviously and everyone else is a Madame or Sir. Since you do not live in my Sheriffdom and are not subject to my authority, it is ‘sir’ to you unless otherwise specified. How can you ever expect to become a noble someday if you don’t even know how to address one properly?”

The boy was still so newly turned that a tinge of blush crept across his face and it was obvious he had never considered the possibility of doing anything more than holding a tray for someone else. “I’m so sorry, sir. It’s just…you…you’re so old, man!” He continued to gush compliments and then sobering finally, said, “I’ll tell my maker, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Godric dabbed the corners of his mouth with a cocktail napkin and tucked it into one of the empty glasses. “Very well. Carry on.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

A faint smile crept across Godric’s face. “Oh, I think I shall.”

Chapter Text

Rosalyn concentrated on the series of folds she was making in a white cocktail napkin. She created the final crease, twisting a pointed edge into a beak. It was the fourth paper crane she had made and she set it on the table with the rest of her growing collection. She had anticipated many things about this event, but never did she expect to be so excruciatingly bored. The past few hours had been some of the most tedious of her life. Godric’s speech was certainly unexpected, to say the least. The crowd’s reaction to his presence was eye-opening. Rosalyn could not imagine the isolation and loneliness he must feel from being so feared. But once that excitement was over, there was little to do but wait. Eric had assured her he would see to it that Godric would go to her and that she should stay put. She was not in the habit of sitting around and waiting for things to happen. It felt like time was creeping by. The bodyguard Eric had assigned her was certainly pretty to look at. His pale face was inlaid with emerald eyes and framed by a tumble of long, raven hair. But he was not very talkative. Clad head to toe in black velvet and wool, he had instead kept apace from her table where he was concealed in the shadow of several large topiaries. Only once when Queen Sophie-Anne herself breezed by did he suddenly materialize at her side. He hid the wrist that bore her ID bracelet behind his back, later explaining that the wide black and gold colors which proclaimed that she “belonged” to Eric Northman’s retinue might raise unnecessary questions.

She was working on a fifth crane – this time using a red napkin for variety – when a pinched-face vampire dressed in an unfortunate brown suit sidled up to her. He introduced himself as William Compton. His bubbly human date extended her hand in an enthusiastic greeting.

“Hi!” she said in a thick drawl. “I’m Sookie Stackhouse.”

Rosalyn chanced a glance at her bodyguard. He was nowhere to be seen. “My lovely date here saw that you are a member of Area Five and I thought you two ladies could chat while I take care of some business,” the vampire said.

The curvy woman hopped on the tall seat next to Rosalyn without an invitation. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before! I guess you must live in Shreveport? It’s a pretty big city. I’m from Bon Temps.”

“Indeed,” Compton chimed in, his voice dripping with forced charm. “It is odd that we have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I was not aware that the Sheriff had a new pet.”

She had no idea what to say. “Yeah, well. Like you said, I’m new.”

Her bodyguard materialized out of the shadows like a dark angel. A shock of recognition crossed the strange vampire’s face. “Amleth! Goodness…It…It has been some time. You honor Louisiana with your presence.” His thick Southern accent seemed to falter slightly.

“I cannot say the same for you, Bill.”

Bill swallowed and licked his lips. “Sookie, this here is Amleth of Cumbria. He’s currently the Sheriff of London and a very important member of our community.”

Amleth’s face was a mask. “Tend to your business. Your human will be safe here.”

“But of course. Thank you. The, uh, Queen - she passed this way not long ago?”

“You ask too many questions,” he replied, unimpressed.

Compton gave a wide smile. “You ladies enjoy the festivities. Sookie, dear? Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Sookie started chattering at Rosalyn a mile minute in an attempt at small talk. Amleth stayed at her side. The blonde was all over the place and she smiled too much to be sincere. “Did you make these cranes? Wow, that’s so neat. I wish I knew origami. Do you know that karate place over on Washington Ave., near the Walmart?”

“No.” Of course Ros did not know it. She had never been to Shreveport.

“Oh.” Sookie frowned. “Well, um. There’s this place in Shreveport. They do self-defense stuff for women. I took a couple classes once. It was fun. We got to kick a dummy a lot.”

“What are you?” Amleth suddenly asked, cutting the woman’s rambling short. Something about her behavior was off and her scent was not entirely human. The way she paused and changed her wording was not lost on him.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked what you are.”

“I’m a waitress.”

“At Fangtasia?”

“Oh lord no!” she laughed. “Fangtasia? I’m not even allowed there. Jerkboy Eric banned me after the first time I went. No, I work at a lil’ ‘ole place called Merlotte’s. It’s a nice family restaurant.”

Amleth did not respond to the insult to Eric’s establishment. “Then what do you do for Northman?”

The Stackhouse woman fiddled with her ID bracelet. One side was purple and bore Compton’s name. The other had the Viking’s black and gold insignia. “I don’t do anything for him. Like I said, he’s been extremely rude to me. They made a mistake or something when they made my ID.”

Amleth snorted in disbelief. Eric Northman did not make mistakes. He was about to grill her for more information when Rosalyn audibly gasped.

Through a part in the crowd, Godric was strolling toward her, hair wild, hands deep in his pockets, and a big grin plastered on his face. Without realizing it, she stood, dropping her red crane into the clipped grass. Her palms went cold and the moment seemed to stretch out between them in an eternity.

He was walking toward her and he was there. He was finally there. Memory must have failed her, for the man strutting in her direction was not just impressive and imposing and seductive. He was incandescently rakish, a force that bent the light and dark around him. Rosalyn blindly reached at the table for support.

A few feet from her, Godric stopped and placed a hand on his chest. His mouth opened to say something, but shut instead. No one dared speak a word, not even the jabber mouth blonde. Rosalyn stepped forward and the movement of her dress sent a waterfall of sparkling reflections onto Godric’s suit and opaline skin.

“You are too perfect a vision,” he declared at last. He shook his head in disbelief as he drunk her in, eyes glittering. “I could swear you’re clothed in moonlight. There must be witchcraft woven into every stitch of that gown.”

“Godric,” she breathed, in little more than a whisper.

He took her open hands in his. “Rosalyn, my muse.”

“You’re late,” she chided.

He suppressed a laugh and his nostrils flared. “I know. Not too late, I hope.”

“You look…ridiculously handsome in this.” She ran a hand over his grey lapel.

“I lost my tie.”

“Good riddance.” They smiled at each other like fools, hopelessly caught in each other’s orbit.

Amleth cleared his throat and Godric managed to tear his eyes away from Rosalyn.

“Amla,” he declared quietly. The black-haired slip of a man dropped immediately to one knee and bowed his head in a show of extreme loyalty. When he stood, Godric clasped his forearm, greeting him in the old Roman way. They had not seen each other since the ancient had left the Old World in anticipation of the Reveal. It was a blink of a moment in a 1500-year relationship, but it mattered nevertheless. Through their salutations, Godric nevertheless kept Rosalyn’s hand in his free arm the entire time.

“Hello, old chap,” Amleth said. “Before you even ask, no, I didn’t breathe a word to Eric. He asked me to keep an eye on Ms. Rosalyn tonight.”

“I see.”

“In the spirit of full disclosure, you should know that I needed to shield her from that insufferable bitch Sophie-Anne. I caught her by the arm.”

Godric nodded in appreciation, glad he would not be taken by surprise when he noticed the scent on her.

“Quite the speech you made,” Amleth said. Godric pursed his lips. “On a scale of 1 to that time in Baudobriga, just exactly how much trouble is Eric in?”

“Off the charts,” Godric replied coolly.

Amleth hissed through his teeth. “Sucks to be him.” Rosalyn had no idea just how thoroughly the younger vampire was acquainted with Godric’s wrath. Godric had helped raise him as a youngling and Amleth attributed much of his success to the elder - not in spite of his harsh methods, but because of them.

“Godric, please don’t be mad at Eric,” Rosalyn offered. “I’m just as much to blame.”

Godric caressed a tendril of hair at the nape of her neck and breathed her in. He was having trouble focusing on anything she was saying beyond the shape of his name in her mouth. He wanted her to say it over and over again, to chant it like a siren’s song. Godric, Godric. Sing me to shipwreck, he wished at her. Let me die on the luscious shores of your body.

From the corner of his field of vision, Amleth saw Compton attempting to slither off with his human unnoticed. “Compton, you little shitrat! You would leave without thanking me for babysitting your snack?”

“Pardon, sirs. I did not wish to disturb your conversation.” Bill awkwardly bowed in a half-cower.

“Why is your human claimed as Northman’s retinue?” Amleth demanded.

“I do not know. I believe…well…I believe he means to steal her from me!” he braved, straightening a little at his defiance.

“Why would he do that when he’s banned her from his club?” Rosalyn chimed in. Godric gently squeezed her hand with pride, still staring at her moist, full lips.

“It’s part of Eric’s game,” Bill said. “Only he has lost. She is already spoken for.”

Amleth looked down and whispered something inaudible in a forgotten tongue. It elicited an exasperated grunt from Godric. “You are excused,” the elder said. “Leave our presence. Immediately.” Compton slumped off, tugging Sookie along by her purse strap. They were a few yards away when Godric spoke again. “Oh, and, Procurer?”

Compton spun around. “Yes, sir?” he said with an air of hope. Godric smiled cruelly. A look of horror crossed Compton’s face as he realized his error.

“So you do still work for the Queen.” Godric shook his head sadly at Sookie, “Little one, this vampire is not who he says he is. I do not know what lies he has told you, but I can tell he has fed you an unnatural amount of his blood, no doubt to coerce you into his power.”

“Sookie is mine!” Bill shoved her back defensively.

“So she is, but not for long, I reckon. What are your orders, underling?”

“Oh my lord! I remember you!” Sookie gasped. “You’re that frat boy vampire that came into Merlotte’s!”

“What?” Compton said. He grabbed her arm. “You didn’t tell me you saw a strange vampire. Sookie!”

“Well, I mean he was just a kid. He didn’t cause any trouble.”

“You should have told me! Sookie, do you realize what you’ve done?” Compton shook her in desperation.

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Sookie said.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes at the obnoxious couple.

“Please, Godric,” Compton begged, “I have no argument with you. Let us go in peace. This matter is of no concern to you.”

“You’re in over your head, Bill, as usual,” Amleth said. “Answer him. What are your orders?”

“The Queen is forcing me to deliver Sookie to her. Tonight,” he mumbled.

Sookie cried out at the revelation.

“Poaching a known asset out of Eric’s backyard?” Amleth said. “Seriously? You really are as stupid as you look.”

“I was under the Queen’s orders!” Compton said.

“Orders which violate every protocol governing Sheriff’s rights.” Amleth said in outrage. “I could have her deposed for such a flagrant infringement.”

Bill saw a last ditch tactic. “Yes! Yes, help us! Please! I love her. Please, help us. I never wanted for this to happen!”

Godric let his gaze drift back to the useless vampire. “And yet you brought her here. Your love must be very limited indeed if it is so easily sacrificed for a middling job in a puppet queen’s regime.” Compton’s mouth hung dumbly open. He had no clever excuse. Godric blinked, unaffected by the pair’s histrionics and more than ready to be relieved of this idiocy. “Ms. Stackhouse, I assume from the mark on your wristband that my progeny Eric Northman has planned to protect you in the event of Compton’s inevitable betrayal. It is, however, Sheriff Amleth here who can truly help you, if he is willing. He understands certain things about your gift.”

“You mean my ‘quirk’?” she said.

“Your telepathy, yes,” Godric said, purposefully stressing the word.

Amleth suddenly grasped the situation perfectly. He was stunned that Godric and Eric had been so wrapped up in this business with the Rosalyn woman that neither had bothered to inform him that they were having fairy problems. And not just any fairy problems. Telepathy was a rare trait. These were Sky Fae matters, though only the gods knew what this halfling was doing on the wrong side of the veil dividing their realms. “We should leave. Now. I can’t even believe you’re here in the first place. This is a diplomatic crisis waiting to happen.” Amleth pulled out a set of car keys.

“Go with him, little one. He will see you home safely,” Godric said.

Sookie stood clutching her handbag, unsure of what to do. Bill tried to plead with her. “Sookeh, no! You are my light. Please, you can’t trust them!”

Amleth saw the slightest twitch of Godric’s jaw and knew the elder was growing dangerously agitated. The matter needed to resolve itself – immediately. He quickly intervened before Godric solved the issue the ‘Godric-way’. “Miss, I can see you are conflicted. Let me tell you how this is going to go down. You are either going to declare your undying love for this moron and begin your career as a blood slave tonight, here, in this gilded cage known as Chez Sophie-Anne, or you are going to be an idiot, refuse my help, and try to run from all of us thinking that you can outwit several thousand years of experience and highly superior hunting instincts.”

Sookie protested, but Amleth continued. “At that point, I’m going to catch you and take you back to your home and guard you, just as Godric has proposed. Why would I bother, you ask? Because I happen to be, among other things, the Vampire Ambassador to the Fae. Because the Fae Prince doesn’t like it when vampires abscond with his people, even halfling abandoned ones like you. Because I don’t like it when I have to deal with an unhappy Fae Prince and I really don’t like it when useless fangs like this one dares to fuck around with my friends.” He cast a look of disgust Bill’s way.

“She’s Fae!” Compton said in sudden understanding.

“What is it going to be, sweetcakes?” Amleth asked, pouring on an irresistible smile.

“No! No, no, no! Sookie they want your power. That is it! I will protect you. I love you, baby!”

The petite blonde screwed up her face. “I’m no baby!” Drawing back an arm, she socked the distraught Compton hard.

“Sookeh!” He yelped in shock and stumbled backwards, his nose a splatter of blood. People nearby started laughing.

Amleth rolled his eyes and quickly finished what Sookie began. He knocked Bill Compton out cold with a disgusting crunch.

“Shall we?” he held out a hand. Sookie looked up to the tall, handsome man. He might as well have been a shining knight on a horse. She quickly accepted his help. Amleth gave a polite nod to Rosalyn. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame. I apologize for the disruption.” He turned to the elder. “I will see this settled.”

“Keep her away from Eric and Pamela,” Godric said. “I will not have my bloodline entangled in psychotic fairy hijinks.”

“Fairies?” Sookie giggled. “Really?”

“Really, darling,” Amleth said. “Now off we go. Pip pop. You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Ros peeked over at the passed out vampire sprawled on the lawn. “Well that was certainly exciting. Is it always like this?”

“More or less.” Godric gave a weary sigh. If only he could have a night without such nonsense. Stepping over Compton’s prone body, he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm so they could mill about the party. “Where were we?”

“Hmm. I was about to tell you how glad I am to see you. I’ve often thought of you.”

“I’ve thought of you too, perhaps more than I have a right to.”

Ros flushed. “You left quite an impression.”

His eyes flickered to her neck, to the place where his mark had long since faded into nothing. “I’m sorry. I should have - ”

“No.” She shook her head. “Let’s not begin like that.”

He shyly conceded.

“How have you been?” she said.

“I am better now.” He tightened his hold on her.

“You’ve got color in your cheeks. You’re taking care of your nutrition?” She badly wanted to run a hand over the pink flush on his high cheekbones, but she did not want to take liberties.

“Trying,” he said honestly. “Where are we going?”

They seemed to be ambling towards the dance floor. “I thought you knew.”

“I was following you,” he teased, leaning into her. “Would you like to dance?”

Ros wrinkled her nose at the crowded space pulsing with lights and writhing bodies. Eric was at the DJ booth with a pair of headphones on askew. He was pumping a fist to the rhythm of the techno music. For all intents and purposes, he appeared lost in his job. Even at a distance, she could feel him watching their every move. “Maybe somewhere else?”

Godric considered her suggestion. “I think I know a place.”

They picked their way between the high top tables and laughing guests until he stopped behind a row of toilets .“You want to hang out behind the Port-o-Pottys?” she said with a laugh. They were the fancy kind, complete with A/C and porcelain fixtures, but still.

He indulged her with a smirk. Ros now understood where Eric got the look. “No, I want a bit of cover so that I can take you dancing in the stars.”

Ros blinked and smiled blankly. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Step up on my feet. It’s a little like the waltz.” She slipped off her heels and stepped onto his leather shoes.

“Hold on tight, it’s a fast start.” Rosalyn wound her arms around his neck. Godric locked onto her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body. The intimate contact sent a jolt of excitement through both of them. There was a sudden rush of wind and Rosalyn hung on for dear life, her face buried into his neck. After a moment, the wind lessened into a breeze.

“Open your eyes, Rosalyn,” he told her. They were floating in the sky. They were honest to goodness flying. Her mouth was a perfect ‘O’ of amazement and a question lingered there, unasked. Yes, his eyes said, some vampires can fly.

A carpet of cloud spread out below them like a puffy, swirling meadow. Overhead the somber, silent moon shone, cut into a crescent by Earth’s shadow. Godric spun slowly in a circle, whipping up misty tendrils of vapor around them. The moist air was cool and dew formed on their skin and clung to their hair. “Magic,” she said. It was the only way to describe it.

He drifted aimlessly and Ros got up the courage to reach out and touch the sky. “It’s like touching heaven. It’s just too beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed. He was not looking at the stars, but at the vibrant human he was holding in his arms. “Beautiful.”

Rosalyn pulled back a wet hand and licked it. “What does it taste like?” he asked.

“The rain,” she said and he smiled. She offered her fingertips and he kissed them lightly, tongue darting out to her skin. She wondered if he tasted the same flavor. He wondered if she knew all he wanted to savor was her.

“How far can you go?” she asked.

“Anywhere where the light isn’t.”

“How fast?’

“Faster than the earth moves. Much, much faster.” Such speeds were almost unfathomable. He could fly faster than sound.

“And how high?”

He gazed up to the constellations. “I don’t need air,” he said quietly, hoping she would not press further. He traced his nose along the ridge of her ear.

“But you do need life,” she countered. He met her gaze. “All life needs other life to survive.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

He squeezed her tightly and rolled onto his back and shot along the horizon. Godric felt her bouncing laughter against his chest and she threw her arms out wide to try flying, trusting he would not let her fall. The press of her slight weight against the length of his body was sweet torture and through sheer willpower he managed to keep his erection at bay. They remained that way for some time, although he banked in shallow curves to keep them circling over the city. When the low throbbing sound of an incoming jet forced them to retreat into the secluded forest of fog, Rosalyn wrapped her tired arms around her pilot’s wide chest and she nuzzled her face into his collarbone. He relished the heat of her and how his own skin warmed under her touch. Only when he heard the chatter of her teeth did he realize he had not considered that she would be cold at these heights. In fact, she was shivering violently. Very carefully, Godric took her back down, softly landing where she had left her shoes.

“Thank you for the dance, milady.”

“No, thank you,” she said, thoroughly exhilarated. “That’s the second time we’ve gone moondancing, you know.”

“Indeed it was.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. When they emerged from their hiding spot, they were confronted with the hustle and crush of the event.

“What happens next?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You want to get out of here?” Godric shrugged noncommittally. “Let’s blow this clambake.”

“Certainly. Was the seafood not satisfactory then?” he said.

“Huh?”

“Clambake - it is a traditional New England seafood dish, is it not?”

Rosalyn burst into laughter and pulled him to her. She pressed a big, hot kiss on his cheek.

“I’ve said something silly, haven’t I?”

“You’re perfectly correct, dear.” She rewarded him with another playful peck. “Only sometimes it’s just an expression.”

The sight of a human woman manhandling the boy Death was outrageous and too intriguing not to stare. And gossip. Godric threw his arm over her shoulders and pretended to be deaf to the chorus of whispers. “Where to?” he asked.

“Hmm. I hear there are great zydeco bars, or, how about a riverboat tour?”

“I can show you to a good zydeco bar, but they will not welcome a bloodrinker inside. The French Creoles here have known about manjasang like me far longer than most humans. However, the riverboat would be a nice chance to talk with you more.”

“Well, we could just wander and chat? My hotel isn’t too far from here,” she said casually. The sudden swell in her scent betrayed her calm and it gave Godric hope.

“Certainly,” he agreed. “Where are you lodging?”

“The Roosevelt. It’s…decadent.” Godric frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“They don’t have light tight rooms. I wasn’t intending to stay in the city tonight.” Quite the opposite. He had planned on potentially staging a coup of half of North America in order to protect his lying dog of a child.

“Oh…” she said, crestfallen. “Everything will be booked up, won’t it?”

His mind raced through a series of possibilities. “Pig-headed, arrogant, manipulative boy,” Godric cursed. “Let me guess: Eric booked your suite?”

Rosalyn blushed deeply. She had not planned on confessing her stealthy collaboration with his progeny so soon. “Yeah, Eric made the reservation. Crap, I’m sorry. Why didn’t I think of this? But…you can just crash with him tonight, no?”

She had no way of comprehending the extent of Eric’s plot. His schemes were layers upon layers deep. To the man who had taught him every facet of strategy and game theory in existence, however, they were painfully, obnoxiously obvious. Godric wanted to beat him black and blue, if only because he knew he had no choice but to do exactly what his child wanted him to do. “I don’t suppose you have any interest in visiting Dallas?” he asked.

Rosalyn put on a brave face. “Oh, of course, Godric. I’d love to see you again. Soon, I hope.”

His fangs dropped. And that was Eric’s check mate.

Godric slid from Rosalyn’s shoulder to her waist and he crushed her against his body, panting to take in her scent. “Oh, I don’t intend on letting you go just yet,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. His possessive instincts were screaming at him. They chanted along with her pulse. Hot, wet, throbbing thoughts of subduing her, claiming her, stealing off with her into the shadows. Take, take, take, they called. Godric grabbed a fresh drink out of the nearest vampire’s hand and he gulped it down greedily.

“Woah there, cowboy!” Ros said as the blood disappeared down his throat.

Godric shoved the empty glass back at the frozen vampire with a look that dared him to say a word. The man managed to strangle out a platitude, thanking the thief for having just robbed him.

The draught of blood helped Godric’s state only slightly. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. Rosalyn’s suggestions were innocent, he reminded himself. This was Eric’s web of teasing treachery.

“Are you alright?” Rosalyn said, trying not to draw more attention to them.

He had no idea how to explain his reasoning to her. “Yes,” he said. “I just do not like thinking about parting ways so soon. I apologize.”

She rubbed his back, telling him everything would be okay. Godric was not so sure. The matter was so messy he was at a loss for where to begin. The notion of roving about with the woman in a city positively overrun with vampires and every other kind of supe gave him a coiled, chilly knot of unease in his throat. Moments before, when he smelled the hint of her arousal, he was willing to choke back his abhorrence of filthy vampire hotels if it meant getting to be alone with her. But Eric was deftly using his habits and his own teachings against him. And it positively enraged him. Per Godric’s meticulous instruction, his child knew never to stay in a city during a large summit of their own kind. It was a simple matter of security. There would be no light-proof hotel room here to ‘crash’ in. But this only scratched the surface of Eric’s deceit. The Viking was relying on the assumption that his maker would feel increasingly territorial and hyper-protective of Rosalyn the longer he was in her presence. By eliminating the possibility of sound accommodations, Eric knew the situation would only compound this impulse, which in turn would make the thought of separating from Rosalyn wholly unacceptable. It left Godric with two choices: return with Rosalyn to Shreveport on his child’s turf, in some unfamiliar property, where his presence would complicate Eric’s authority as Sheriff or, conversely, retreat to the territory he knew with absolute certainty could be secured. There was no decision to make; Eric had already made it for him.

“Tell me, why are you here really?” Godric asked.

“It’s a long story,” Ros admitted.

“No doubt. Skip to the part where you agree that I’m somehow involved. What did you hope to get out of it?” His words came out more coarsely than he intended.

“Godric…” She blushed again, this time in shame. “I just wanted to see you again. I’m sorry. This is starting to feel like an awkward blind date.”

He recognized her discomfort and backtracked. “Bear with me. I only meant that…I cannot fathom your expectations. I understand Eric’s motivations and I see his machinations in all of this.” He paused, unused to explaining himself or justifying his actions. “I’m fighting 2300 years of deeply ingrained habit because I want to know what kind of relationship you would like to have.”

Rosalyn tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Isn’t it a little soon for ‘The Talk’? Maybe let’s get to know each other first.”

She did not understand. He needed to walk her though his perspective and it felt glacially slow. He pulled her into an embrace near a loudspeaker where others could not hear him whispering into her ear. “You are human, Rosalyn. Unclaimed, immanently fragile, in a world full of monsters and villains. It’s hard to express the immediacy I feel. This?”

He looped a finger through the ID bracelet on her wrist.

“Its protection is no better than the paper it’s printed on.” It snapped cleanly off in his fingers and the breeze sent it fluttering away. “To me, your life could be taken as easily as that. I would very much like the time and space to get to know you, and my first priority to do that is security. Eric has engineered it so that I either have to part with you come sunrise, putting precious seconds between us come nightfall, or take you home with me. New Orleans is not a town where one can go to ground outside; there are too many witches and vodun priests who would be more than tickled to get ahold of my body while I’m dead for the day. Even if I could get back to you ten – even five – minutes after sundown, that would be more than enough time for something terrible and irreversible to happen. So.”

He caressed her throat, hiding his eyes behind long, curling lashes. “I should have left you unmarred that night. Eric would never have interfered and you could have gone your own way. I’m too old, you see. Everything I do is under constant scrutiny. My every movement has political consequences. The door to our world does not revolve, Rosalyn, and it was wrong of me to bring you into it without your consent. Just as we do not enjoy equal rights in your world, humans do not have equal status in ours. You cannot wish to be treated as my property, and I do not wish to treat you this way. It’s not too late. If you want, I can arrange for your security so that you will be protected the remainder of your life. You wouldn’t have to see them; it wouldn’t affect your lifestyle much.”

“You don’t get it at all,” she huffed. “I was at the AVL gala by my own choice. I already made the decision to be involved in vampire affairs and if Eric hadn’t stepped in with his absurdly high-handed ways, I would have undoubtedly fallen prey to some asshole like that Sookie woman. By the time he got to me I was already well on my way. I was messing with forces I didn’t understand.”

“Precisely. And this is exactly why The Great Revelation is a failure. It has drawn humans to us on our own terms. Nothing has changed. If anything, it is worse. It has shown me how ugly and hateful creatures can be toward each other.”

“That is why I’m here! This is why everyone around you is here, Godric! Enough with the fake mouthpieces like Nan frigging Flannigan or hatemongers in pastor’s clothing like that dipwad Newlin. You’re right, I don’t want to be called somebody’s pet or talked about like steak. And it’s refreshing to hear you don’t want that either. This is why we need a forum where we can learn from each other. That’s my vision, Godric. A school. The School of Night will foster dialogue – real communication – across species so that our ignorance doesn’t lead to mutual distrust. We have to stop acting as if we haven’t co-existed all along.”

Godric was taken aback. “This is your dream? This is what you want to do…what Eric is helping you with?”

“Yes!”

“And you truly believe this is possible?”

“Aren’t we doing it right now? Talking, understanding, negotiating?” She gave him a patronizing look.

He had not truly considered it before. But possibilities seemed different now that he was trying to listen and trying to understand. Godric toed the ground. “Alright. Look, if you don’t have plans for the weekend and you wouldn’t mind being in Dallas, we could go there tonight.”

“We can fly more?” she asked, lighting up.

“Traditional methods, I’m afraid. I have a plane standing by.”

“Oh, really, you too?”

“Tease. Just answer.”

She thought for a moment. “I would like that very much. How about you though? You seem to be working awfully hard to push me away.”

“I want you to stay with me for…well, for as long as you like.”

“Alright then.”

“Shall we?”

He gave a boyish grin but it quickly evaporated into a cold mask. “I need to speak with Eric before we leave.” He looked at her in assessment. “I’ll warn you, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Chapter Text

Godric led Rosalyn to a wrought iron gate guarded by a huge block of a man. “Let us pass. Allow Northman and his progeny by, but no others,” he said to the werewolf. “When we leave, you will tell your team to stand down. Extract them unnoticed. You will be paid in full.” The guard grunted and they slipped into a smaller courtyard protected by a dense wall of greenery and thick fencing.

“What was that about?” Ros said.

Godric was tempted to backtrack on his resolution. He forced himself to give her as much truth as possible. He was limited by what he could say in the Queen’s private garden. “Eric has me here under false pretenses. You had no part in this. I cannot explain more here.” He closed his eyes with a little shiver and called Eric through their bond. Eric appeared in short order.

“You rang?” he said with a smug leer. Godric looked up at him with narrowed eyes, crushing the cockiness right out of Eric’s proud stance. He shrank in his tall frame and hung his head. He did not dare look at Rosalyn.

Godric began laying into him in jerky sentences in an ancient tongue. As he spoke his low voice grew into a harsh bark. He repeatedly jammed a finger into Eric’s face and each time Godric shook it in anger, Eric flinched.

Eric had warned Rosalyn that Godric would react poorly to being manipulated. Now she seriously wondered whether Eric had not been exaggerating when he suggested his maker might dismember him. He acted like that single finger could annihilate him. Maybe it could.

“Godric,” she said softly. Godric turned, shocked to be interrupted while reprimanding his progeny. It had not happened – ever. No one would so flagrantly disregard such an inviolable protocol. He was wild-eyed and lost to his fury when his lizard brain connected that the human did not know any better. Eric shook his head at her, desperately trying to warn her to shut up. “I don’t know exactly what Eric has done, but you should know that last September he saved me from a full-blooded demon. He rescued me and sheltered me and he’s protected me ever since then until this very night.”

“Who,” Godric demanded, his fangs drawn and his voice thick with the Old Norse he had been speaking.

“Derek Ronwe,” Eric muttered.

“The soul thief?” Godric said, astounded. “He was a Great Earl of Hell before he…My god, Rosalyn, do you even…Ronwe!…Ronwe?” he asked again, incredulous, as though somehow he had heard it incorrectly. Eric just closed his eyes. “Ronwe would do anything to earn his freedom back! He was tricked into slavery by a vampire named Roman!”

“Who is…” Rosalyn began.

“A member of the High Council! But what does it matter? He’s a vampire dangerous enough to out-devil a devil, that’s who!” Godric grabbed at his own hair, completely unglued. He turned back to his child, stunned.

Eric sent a silent prayer of thanks to Freyja for bringing Rosalyn into their lives. Not only had she spoken up before his maker very likely beat him to a pulp in semi-public (not exactly a first, but still, less than ideal), it was as though fresh life had been breathed into the ancient. He was yelling and shouting like a feral animal, true, but he was doing so because he actually cared about something again.

“This entire situation is unacceptable. UN-AC-CEPTABLE,” Godric said. “Call Pamela.”

In a blur, the petite blonde vampire joined their VIP garden party. She started to ask Eric what he needed. He jerked his head at his maker. “Fuck,” was all she managed to get out.

“Pamela Swynfort de Beaufort,” Godric said. Pam dropped to her knees without hesitation, let alone concern for what the brick patio would do to her red couture gown. Her terror was plain. “I have learned a great many things tonight that displease me. Have you ever seen me displeased, Pamela?” Pamela swallowed. “I assume by your silence that is a yes, young one? You should be advised, then, that my anger with this bloodline is unprecedented.”

The word hung in the air like a noose.

Eric fell to his knees and Pam actually threw herself down in full supplication, arms spread wide. “Never have I seen such treasonous, dishonorable behavior from you both. Scheming and plotting behind my back. Plots involving your own patriarch! All for what? To deliver Rosalyn to me like some accursed Helen of Troy? To insinuate yourselves into my personal affairs? Do I look like I need young whelps to play matchmaker for me?! I’ve been feasting and fornicating long before your gods were even born, let alone the cavemen you call your ancestors!”

Ros backed away, not sure how offended or scared she should be at this point.

“Do you not respect my rights as head of this bloodline? It is an outrage! This shall not be borne. Have you any idea of the scale of misery your little lies could have cost? Had someone even looked at Eric the wrong way tonight…” He lapsed into Old Norse so that no one else would overhear the terrifying truth. “…I was ready to declare total global war! On everyone! Every last royal head in this court would have rolled. For what?”

He paced the courtyard, unhinged by his anger. “What do you have to say for yourself, Pamela?” There was no movement from her. “Answer me, child!”

“Answer, Pam,” Eric said, knowing he was ordering her to dig her grave deeper. Godric was baiting his grandprogeny to give the sort of excuse he despised.

“It was done in good faith.” She pleaded against the hard ground. Loose sand from between the brick sticks to her ruby lipstick.

“I am uninterested in your best intentions! It is your actions which provoke me!” Godric seethed. “Tell me, Eric, what part of this rotten business was she forced by your maker’s command to see out? Choose your next words wisely.”

Eric gritted his teeth, knowing he could not lie. “None, Maker.”

“None?” Godric said in disbelief. “You were not compelled and you happily complied, Pamela? You did not seek out your grandsire for advice? You did not trust that your grandsire would listen to you without judgment? That I would not do what was best for us all?” She did not make a peep. “Unprecedented,” he said again. “Eric, what did I first teach you after I turned you?”

Eric’s mind raced back over the millennium, trying to dig up those distant memories. “When exactly, Maker?”

“The night I introduced you to others of our kind. The Denmark fiasco. Right before we entered court.”

True fear struck Eric for the second time that night. He did not like where this was going. Not one bit. “You taught me that ‘the only vampire you can trust fully is the one you make,'” He quoted verbatim, the lesson etched on his soul.

“I have been blind, Eric, to forget that you cannot appreciate the position of the pater having only ever had me. You have not taught your child well and I am to blame. Let us correct that immediately. Instruct her.”

“Pamela, Godric is the chieftain of our bloodline. You must always go to him when you are worried or frightened, even if it is me who is doing something wrong. Especially then. You can and must trust him. As your maker, I command it.”

Godric jutted his chin and glared down at the woman splayed on the ground. “It is true what he says, Pamela. You can always come to me, no matter the problem.” His voice had grown dangerously soft. “But perhaps you are both too young and naïve to understand my point. Let me make it perfectly clear. A maker’s command always takes precedence. Eric orders you to seek my council today, but what about tomorrow? In your trickery, you have compromised the perfect trust you and I have enjoyed these few hundred years. It grieves me to say this to you, Eiríkrsdóttir, but I must: I did not make you. The only vampire you can ever fully trust is the one you have made.” He looked at Eric painfully. “Perhaps that is not even true, in the end.”

Eric looked away, visibly struggling to keep it together. Godric stood over Pamela. He made her wait painful minutes before speaking further. “I did, however, approve your turning,” he said finally. “I can unnapprove it, too.” She exhaled in a cry. “Do we understand each other?”

Her blonde head gave a shake and blood tears involuntarily escaped down her cheeks. Godric clenched his jaw, staving off more cruel words. He changed gears dizzyingly fast. “Now that we have that settled, you may wish to earn your way back into my good graces one day. I have been told you have shown yourself capable of running Area Five?”

She nodded hastily and Eric agreed.

“Eric will be absent for several days, perhaps a week. Are you willing and able to stand in as acting Sheriff while he is gone?”

“I am, Grandsire.”

“Do not fail in this task.” His message was clear: Do not fail me. “I have sent Amleth to Bon Temps. You are not to go there or interfere with his work under any condition. Should you run into disciplinary problems with the area vampires or need his assistance, do not hesitate. Seek it at once. William Compton is hereby banned from your Area. If he appears, get Amleth to handle him. He tells me he has run him out of London more times than he cares to remember.”

“Yes, Grandsire.”

“If for some reason Sophie-Anne comes sniffing around for Sookie Stackhouse, you call me first, then Amleth.” Pam nodded, understanding that the Queen showing up could pose major problems. “Can I trust that you and Amleth will behave yourselves?”

“Yes, Grandsire. No shenanigans.”

“You no longer have a cent to your name, so I imagine it shouldn’t be too difficult. Run your bar, do the Area paperwork, go to ground. Understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“You are excused. Leave for Shreveport now.” Pamela pushed off the ground, not bothering to right her crumpled dress. She hobbled through the garden gate. One of her five-inch heels had snapped in her hastiness to submit to her elder. “And Pamela?”

“Yes, Grandsire?”

“This is a test.” She blinked in comprehension and limped away.

“You,” Godric snapped at Eric. “I have yet to even think of how I’m going to deal with you. For now, get Rosalyn’s effects from her hotel and go ahead of us to Dallas. Clear my nest of all but my Second and lock it down. I want you to get Stan as far from there as possible. If he resists, kill him. If there are questions, say that I grew tired of having a bored assassin in my home. He’s no better than a lap dog that bites.”

“Yes, Maker.”

“There is one final piece of business. You will apologize to Rosalyn.”

“Of course, Maker. What specifically am I apologizing for?”

“Look at her.”

Rosalyn was wide-eyed and clutching Godric’s suit jacket around her. She smelled strongly of fear. Eric chewed his cheek. It was the first time he had been able to check-in with her and he genuinely wanted to hear all the details of their reunion. Godric felt his wave of excitement. He growled and put a possessive arm up between she and Eric. The Viking bit back a smile.

“Forgive me, Ros. You didn’t know what you were getting into.”

“No. Start over,” Godric said.

Eric took a deep breath. He much preferred to ask for forgiveness; it required nothing on his part. Godric was having none of it tonight. Eric loathed actual apologies, especially when he had absolutely no regrets whatsoever. This whole ordeal had gone pretty fucking smoothly, if you asked him. Except the part where Pam was now on Godric’s shit list. That was a frightening oversight on his part, but it was fixable in time.

“Do it again!”

“I apologize, Dr. Murray, for betraying your trust by implicating you in a plan that I knew would enrage my maker and push him to the limits of his reason. I did it because I thought he had already lost his damn mind and it turns out I was right. I did it to save his life.”

“Wrong. Again!” Godric bared his fangs and stepped forward. Eric instinctively threw his arms up and got real repentant, real fast.

“I apologize to you, Dr. Murray! I am sorry I have involved you in this sordid business. I’m sorry you have to see this. You are my friend and I’ve made a vow of fealty to serve you! I’m so sorry! Jag ber dig att förlåta mig! [I beg you to forgive me!]”

The admission was another shock to Godric’s system. His child had made a pledge to this woman? He called her a friend? Eric joked about a lot of things, but not his word. It reminded Godric that Rosalyn had been threatened by the demon Ronwe. Deep down, he knew Eric had done all of this because he knew no other way. If Eric was in the wrong, it was only because Godric had taught him too well.

“Enough,” Ros announced. “Whatever you’ve done, Blondie, I forgive you. It brought me to Godric and I’m glad. I’m sorry everyone is so upset and it’s caused such strife in your family, but as far as I can tell everything has worked out for the best, yes?” She placed a steady hand on Godric’s arm and gazed into his stormy sage eyes. Godric’s teeth popped back into his gums. Eric found it a remarkable thing to observe – a simple human woman pacifying one of the most terrifying supernatural creatures on Earth.

“Rosalyn, I must ask that you apologize to Eric and to me as well,” Godric said. “You’ve been a willing co-conspirator and, as I think you’ve gathered by now, I do not allow deception in my own family. It gravely undermines our safety and our order.”

“I am sorry, Godric. I’m sorry for going along with Eric’s plans, whatever they may have been and I’m sorry, Eric, that I’ve helped you get yourself into such trouble.” Something occured to her. “How much money have they raised tonight?”

Eric shrugged. “Looks like it will top out at around $330 million. Recession has hit people hard, I guess.”

Ros swore in amazement and horror. Godric had volunteered his progeny to match the contributions, presumably as a punishment. “Can you even…?”

“We’ll be ok. We don’t have crap left for liquid funds now,” he gave Godric a pointed look, “but I’ll move some things around and we’ll bounce back.”

That kind of wealth was dizzying. “Alright. I’ve had enough of this drama-fest. We’re all upset and we’ve all apologized. Can we please get out of here now?”

Godric eyeballed Rosalyn. “You cannot possibly still wish to go to Dallas after all that you’ve just seen. I will not begrudge you if you want to take up my offer – I’ll see to it that no other vampires seek you out now that we have been associated.”

Rosalyn looked to Eric. “Did you really do something that deserved what I just witnessed?”

Eric gave a guilty shrug. “Yeah, I’ve been a very bad boy. Didn’t I say it was going to be next to impossible to get him here?”

“Godric, if I go with you, are you going to explain all of this?” The ancient chewed a lip and nodded slowly. “Alright, let’s go.”

“You are certain?” he said, genuinely surprised that he had not scared her off.

“And turn down my chance to see the hallowed halls of Dallas Area Nine? No way. Let’s bounce this popsicle palace,” she said with a sly grin.

“Of course,” Godric replied, nose flaring in amusement. “Did you know they weren’t even serving frozen bloodsicles tonight? Most disappointing,” he jested.

Eric looked at the two like they are completely insane. And perfect for each other.

“Go on, Eric. Be quick,” Godric ordered.

Eric paused at the hedge and turned back to say something to his maker in Norse. “She’s worth it,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

~OOO~

As soon as the door sealed on the private jet, Rosalyn demanded an explanation for what was so dire that Godric needed to read his family the riot act. She was oblivious to the plane’s luxurious grained wood paneling and designer interior. Godric ignored her momentarily and began fussing about the cabin, first giving the pilot instructions and then asking that she buckle her safety belt. There was no stewardess, so he offered to serve her something himself. She skipped more booze in favor of a bottle of water. He set a blue cashmere blanket down in the empty seat next to her in case the ambient temperature was uncomfortable. The blanket was monogramed with a large looping white ‘G’. When he started messing with the air conditioner vents and the thermostat, however, she grew exasperated. “I’m fine, Godric. Just start talking.”

He sighed and settled into the wide seat across from her. It took him a minute to find the right place to begin. “I am not in the habit of attending public events. It was a fluke that I went to the AVL gala last summer.”

“Okay.”

“My presence, as you saw, is often more of a disruption to others than anything else. That, and I basically do what I want. There are only a score of other vampires in existence that are older than me; only seven have both the age and the political power to truly force me do anything. I may be just a Sheriff, but believe me when I say almost all of the nobility in the New World serve at my pleasure. If I wanted a territory, I could take it. But I don’t. The King of Texas makes no requests of me and he considers himself lucky to have me as part of his kingdom.”

“Let me guess why: nobody messes with Texas?”

“Exactly right.”

Godric reclined in his seat, making the leather squeak. “Seven vampires with real power over me, Rosalyn. Yet there’s only one vampire in the world for whom I’d move heaven and earth. Only one that can truly defy me and live.”

“Christ, Godric. What did Eric do?”

“Eiríkr Goðríkson,” he said, using his child’s true vampire name, “went to great lengths to make me believe that his life was in grave danger – that there would be an assassination attempt at the ball.”

“Alright, that is really low. No wonder you’re so pissed. You must have been so scared!”

“It certainly got my attention.”

Godric stared out the oval window as the jet turbines began to whine. “I was ready to kill them all.” Rosalyn swallowed hard. “Enemies, acquaintances, faces I’ve never known. I could have ended every last one of them at that ball. A massacre. After I swore ages ago to seek peace. To no longer be the boy they called Death. One wrong look or move from an elder around Eric tonight and I would have given the order. Do you understand the geopolitical ramifications? I was going to annex half of the continent and crown myself sovereign, all to save my lying boy from a nonexistent threat. Your project would have been utterly ruined, nevermind caused disaster for the Great Revelation. It would have wreaked havoc, probably started global war among our kind. I’ve been in those wars before. I have started those wars before! There were times when I built whole empires just to topple them for my amusement. I’ve been a monster most of my undead life.”

Silence lapsed as he let his mind wander back over those bloody years. His memories ran red with the blood he had spilt. “I would do anything to protect my child. As it turns out, he really will do anything to protect me. Even from myself.”

Ros reached across the small collapsible table between them and took his hand. He pressed the back of her palm again his nose and breathed in her scent. “You’re not a monster, Godric.”

“Gods above,” he exclaimed. “How can you even say that after what I’ve just said?”

“Silly vampire,” she chastised gently. “Any parent would do as you would. Maybe not quite on that scale, but -”

“No. Do not make that mistake. Eric is not my son in the human sense and I am not his father. Don’t use that analogy. The roles are utterly incommensurable. A maker and progeny are all things to each other in time. Not everything all the time but all things, in the end.”

“Okay. Well, there you go. I’d probably do anything for someone who was my everything too.” She pushed the table down into its storage slot. Unbuckling her belt, she crawled into the seat next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Your reaction, your anger – that’s not unreasonable. Nothing I’ve seen in the short hours I’ve spent with you or in the time I’ve gotten to know Eric tells me you are anything but decent and caring.”

Godric tensed beneath her. “Perhaps you went home with the wrong vampire if you feel you know me so well just from spending time with Eric.”

She lifted her head. “Oh, cut the defensive crap. It’s true, I like Eric. He’s a contradiction; his outward appearances are almost the exact opposite of who he really is inside. He’s like a beautiful quandary. I doubt most people take the time to look past the pretty packaging and the arrogant attitude.”

Godric balked in surprise. Eric Northman did not allow others to see past his carefully schooled masks. Almost no one saw through him. It bespoke volumes that she had figured out his child so well. “This is supposed to reassure me? He calls you a friend. I have never heard him honor a human this way.”

“Exactly. I really like your ‘progeny,'” she said carefully, “but Eric does not respect humans. He may be kind to me now, but it is who I am to you and what I can do for you – and by extension him – that interests him. He had to dig pretty deep just to get over his self-importance to listen to me.”

“I will speak with him, for that is my fault. I made him that way. I hated humans for a very long time in my younger days,” he said quietly.

“Hated – as in past tense. You yourself said that actions are what matter. It’s so plain to me that you are different, Godric. You listen to me. We talk. You care about my dignity as a being first, not about what kind of being I am.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, then you already know why I’m sitting here next to you and not in one of Eric’s stupid sports cars.”

A faint smile traced over Godric’s mouth. “To be fair, this plane is one of his selections too.”

“Ah. The monogrammed stuff should have been a dead giveaway. So over the top.”

Godric eyed the blanket. “I hadn’t even noticed. I think those actually came with it. The G is for Gulfstream?” He shrugged and they laughed. “Eric handles the family property. He’s a Viking; he likes his treasure and he likes his comforts. Pam is the entrepreneur. It’s not surprising – she was born during the Industrial Revolution. She’s really the one who has made our substantial wealth truly obscene. They are quite the pair.”

“And you? I’m not sure I understood all that business about being the patriarch.”

“I am the power. I am – I used to be – the compass. And the needle only has only ever pointed in one direction: survival. But Eric doesn’t need me for that anymore. Now surviving just to survive…” Godric let his head fall back and he closed his eyes. “I don’t think quite like a vampire anymore. I’m not even sure I know what that means now – to be vampire. We’ve been so set in our ways and so caught up in our high and mighty routines and rituals. So much of what we call instinct is just bad habit that we accept as normal. It’s hard to disentangle it all. And yet I barely remember being human. I don’t understand humans either.” The confession felt alien. Ros lifted up the armrest and snuggled in closer to him. Her breath came in even, warm puffs across his neck and it was immensely reassuring. Words he found impossible to share with Eric flowed out of him like a sigh.

“I’ve tried to remember, Rosalyn, what you told me that night in the desert. How I am connected to everything? How I belong?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I still don’t understand. I’ve tried looking but I don’t really see, not the way you do.”

She smiled tenderly. “Let me show you. We’ll have an adventure this weekend. We’ll talk together and laugh together. We can go exploring. Let’s get lost together!”

Godric gave her a heated look. “The only thing I want to explore is right here in my arms.” He brushed his nose against her cheek and her lips parted. “Every peak.” Godric kissed her jaw. “Every valley.” His hand slipped into the curve of her waist and he kissed her lips. “All of you. I could lose myself in you.” He held her gently, desperate to be careful with the vital, pulsing creature in his arms. She grabbed his shirt roughly and demanded his mouth. They kissed hungrily, starving for each other’s taste, each other’s feel. Between them there were tongues and blunt bites; moans of ‘yes’ and gasps for ‘more.’ Godric’s eyes rolled back as he tried to keep himself from coming apart at the seams, so long had he waited and how much he had longed for this. The air in the cabin swelled with the scent of arousal and need, and it hit Godric’s throat and groin with an ache he had not known for years. Rosalyn wound her fingers up into his hair and pulled him to her, devouring him. He suddenly jerked away, wincing.

“You…can we wash our hands?”

Rosalyn furrowed her brow and laughed at the odd request. “Uh, sure. You’re a fastidious one, eh? I wasn’t planning on sticking my fingers anywhere too exciting just yet.”

Godric chuckled and shook his head. “You may actually be the first person to ever accuse me of being overly obsessed by cleanliness. You can’t imagine what a pig I was before Eric straightened me out. But no, it’s just that I forgot that we’ve both got Amleth’s scent on us. It is jarring, that’s all. I’d rather not have the thought of him pop in my head while I’m enjoying the feel of you sucking on my fangs, if you know what I mean.”

Rosalyn laughed and found the bathroom. While Godric was still lathering away at the sink, she sniffed her damp hands. “This soap smells amazing.”

“Isabelle makes it for me,” he muttered absentmindedly. He wetted a towel and wiped down the part of his jacket sleeve where Amleth had grabbed it, lifting and turning Rosalyn’s arm around to make sure he had cleaned off every last trace of the distinct musky smell.

“Alright,” he assessed. “I think we pass. Sorry about that. My senses are hyper-sensitive in my old age. Most of the time I can block it out, but not always.” He was still talking about his ability to hear and smell and see well beyond anything a human could understand when Rosalyn interrupted.

“Who is Isabelle?”

“She’s my Second,” he said, not sure what Isabelle had to do with anything.

“That’s what?” Rosalyn’s heartbeat suddenly tripped into a faster rhythm. “Are you…oh my god are you married?” She could not even believe she had not thought to ask. In fact, she had no idea what sort of arrangements vampires had.

“What? No. She’s my Second in Command. It’s a political position, like a lieutenant.”

“But she makes you soap.”

“Yes. She makes a lot of my clothes, too. Why?”

“So, she’s what to you? A girlfriend? A lover?”

“What? No, Rosalyn, nothing like that.” Only then did he suddenly understand her confusion. “Isabelle is a colleague and someone I trust to take care of a lot of the business I dislike handling. Part of her duties are secretarial in nature – she does things to make my life more comfortable. We are not lovers and never have been, nor am I married to her or anyone else. Vampire marriage is almost exclusively for political alliances. I would never ally myself to another bloodline in that way – that is absolute madness. I think…” he began. “I think what you are trying to ask me is whether I share a blood bond with anyone I am not related to.”

“And?”

“No, I do not. I’ve had only a few such bonds over the many centuries of my life. None were even remotely recently, and they were all with other vampires.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small and she slumped into her chair. “Well, I’m certainly relieved that you aren’t a 2300 year old virgin. That would have been a shock. I was rather hoping you had picked up some interesting moves over the years.”

Godric snorted. “I may have a few tricks up my sleeve. But you’ll have to be the judge.” He spoke with a mysterious little smile, and Rosalyn is certain he was being coy. He pulled her into his lap and nipped at her earlobe, then nuzzled the spot where he had fed from her months ago. “You still don’t entirely understand what I’m telling you about the blood.”

“What don’t I understand, handsome one?” She ran a thumb over the velvet flare of his beautiful mouth.

“That I’ve only ever had blood bonds with vampires. It is meaningful because it is meaningless in the end. Well,” he countered, “strictly speaking, I technically did have a blood bond with a human for one night.”

“Okay. Explain. They definitely don’t talk about this stuff on TV.”

“No, they don’t. It matters, my dear, because unrelated vampires can only form temporary blood bonds with each other. They fade over time, quite quickly in fact. It allows for a thin psychic connection. We can feel each other, sense where the other is, even communicate to a certain extent.”

“Neat.”

“Yes, it can be, if done for the right reasons. But then it’s over and we go our separate ways. So the answer to your question is no – I’m not attached to anyone in that way. But blood shared between a vampire and human has very different implications and these are complex. Take Compton and the Stackhouse woman, for example. She had consumed massive amounts of his blood – many pints. It wasn’t a mutual exchange; he didn’t drink from her when he gave it. That is a unidirectional bond. He could and no doubt was pushing ideas and impulses at her. She probably had no idea those feelings were not her own.”

“That is seriously demented.”

“Yes, it is. She also had unhealed bites on her.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“They were on her thighs, we could smell them under her dress. It meant he was controlling her without claiming her. She seemed to think they were in a committed relationship. To us it read like she was a snack he wasn’t quite done with, and an especially disobedient one that he was willing to control with his blood.”

“Like cheap take-out food that keeps trying to escape from the fridge?”

“Something like that, yes. I found it extremely offensive.”

“Eeesh. I did too and I didn’t even pick up on all that.”

Godric gazed into her eyes, losing himself for a long moment. “For vampires, sharing blood, being one in the blood, taking another’s blood…it’s the substance that defines everything about our statuses and our relationships. I put my blood kiss on you to protect you, my beauty. I will always seal your bites, if it is what you wish. You must understand that others will read it as a claim and a threat.” He huffed a laugh and narrowed his eyes. “Coming from me it is more of a promise, really. If another even touches you without my permission, I will make them suffer dearly. It marks you as my feeding ground. But I won’t even drink from you if you don’t want me to. I cannot blame you if you find the practice grotesque.”

Rosalyn remembered the night he had fed from her quite differently. “Grotesque? That experience was erotic. Beautiful. I don’t begrudge you your needs. It doesn’t do anything to me, right? The blood marks?”

“No. But…” He looked down, sheepish. “The first month, I probably still could have tracked you down if I’d really tried pulling on the power of my own blood in your skin; I doubt Eric knows that. It’s not at all a common skill. I just want you to understand, Rosalyn, that the bonds of blood are sacred to me. Forcing blood on a human for any reason is unconscionable. I would never do that.”

“You said you’ve shared it once.”

“Yes. To save Eric’s life. Our blood has powerful healing properties. I spared him from a death blow in battle. It kept him alive through the day until I could return to him. For one day and one night I had a mutual bond with a human."

"What was it like?" she asked.

He smiled shyly. "I could locate him immediately. Could feel his agonizing pain. I knew he felt doubt and hope and acceptance. Doubt that I might not return, hope that I would, and above all, his acceptance of my offer to be turned or else to embrace his true death.”

“What else did it do?”

“He sensed when I was near. It’s hard to say how he experienced it. He was in really rough shape and it was only the one exchange. After that, we began his transformation and that bond became layered into the bond between a maker and progeny, which is entirely different. So long as the person remains human, the more exchanges, the more the connection opens and, unlike with bonds between unrelated vampires, a bond with a human can be made permanent.”

“It can? How? Do you mind me asking?”

“Of course. Never hesitate to ask, although I may not always have the answers or be able to give them to you. A mutual blood bond prevents most of the manipulation that can occur with a one-way feeding. The vampire still has more control over how intensely they feel the other end of the bond and the human’s feelings – whatever they might be – are enhanced in a way that they cannot temper until the bond fades. It does not change how they feel though. If there are enough blood exchanges, the bond seals in both partners. It’s similar to a temporary vampire-to-vampire connection, only it lasts until one or both partners dies.”

“Woah. That’s…intense.”

“I apologize if I’m overwhelming you with so much information, it’s just something we need to get out on the table sooner rather than later.”

“Why? I don’t get how humans have such fleeting lives and take months, even years to figure out their relationships, yet you’ve got forever and want to suss it out on our second date. It’s unnerving.” She twisted the buttons on the cuff of Godric’s grey suit jacket.

“Because it determines my legal rights over you. I can’t keep my nest shut down for long. I’m a political figure. Regardless of what we decide privately we are to each other, I’ll have to give some public statement about you in the near future. I want you to understand the stakes of what those terms mean and I want you to have a say in it. There’s no pressure. If you feel you’re not ready or not willing to accept any aspect of it, I’ll send you home with the protection I’ve promised until you tell me otherwise.”

"I see. Your job really complicates your personal life."

He hummed in agreement. “Our laws regarding humans all frame you as property of a vampire. The severity of an infraction of any of these laws is based on potential harm to the vampire – not, I’m sad to say, the human. That harm is calculated based on the degree of claim placed upon you. As you are now, unmarked and unclaimed, you’re fair game. If you had even a single of my blood healed bites on you, another could make a request of me to enjoy your company, but they would be either very stupid or very brave to do so. It is well known that I do not share what I consider mine. If someone did go after you as such, as distasteful as it is, it would be seen as a feeding territory infringement. It’s not subject to capital punishment. There’s the possibility of claiming you as a formal asset to my Area. That gives a better measure of protection, but then you don’t live in Dallas. I’d have to try making a treaty with the Portland Sheriff, whom I don’t know especially well. This gets us back to needing to have some team in place for your safekeeping and there we have options, although I’ll be honest, I’ll only ever be fully satisfied if it’s me, Eric, or Amleth keeping an eye on you. I must say Eric called it correctly on that one; you can’t quite appreciate what a special thing it was to be guarded by that magpie. He is family to us and he is an extremely powerful political player; older than Eric by centuries. Alas, none of us can go running around relocating so easily and I realize that such talk is getting way ahead of ourselves. It is blood bonded human partners, however, that are protected under our legal statutes in unparalleled ways. The only tie more inviolable is that of a maker’s dominion over his progeny and bloodline. But that is a big step, even a token bond.”

Ros shook her head in disbelief. It was too much to take in. “Is this your version of ‘I’m looking for commitment?'”

“It’s more that I’m saying it’s all up for negotiation. I’m willing to try out what you want. You need to know about the effects of our blood because - and you know now how very serious I am when I make this offer - I can say with some certainty that,” Godric hesitated and a shadow of worry crossed his features. “if some tragedy were to befall you – an accident or some chance occurrence – I know that I would give you my blood immediately to save you. I feel great responsibility towards you, more so now that I’m bringing you into my home. And if I could not, if for some reason I was unable to be with you, I would expect Eric to do the same. But you should tell me right now if that is not something you would want. I would try, if at all possible, to make it a mutual exchange so you wouldn’t feel under my influence once the danger had passed. That is not something I desire.”

“Jesus. Is a weekend in Dallas so risky? You want me to tell you my last will and testament? Should I sign a liability release or something?” He gave her a sharp look. He was not joking. “Yes, fine. I’d better not get broken, but if I do, you had better damn well fix me.” She poked him to make her point.

“I shall not fail you, Rosalyn.”

“Oh, lighten up.” She pinched his chest and he quirked an eyebrow. She had the distinct feeling that he liked it.

“I know that I am not a good communicator. It’s been a great source of frustration to others and I’m really making an effort here. I do not want us to talk past each other as we figure out who we want to be to each other. I may have…tried to do a little research on what passes for human relationships these days. I have questions too, you know.”

Rosalyn suppressed a smile. “Oh dear. Let’s have it.”

“What is an FWB?” he asked, looking earnest.

Rosalyn struggled not to laugh at the question. “Friends with benefits. It’s like just someone you have sex with, without the emotional attachments or expectations about monogamy or any further development of the relationship.”

“I see. And then there are various levels of dating with more or fewer strictures on monogamy as well?”

“Yep. Casual dating, exclusive dating.”

“But your marriage arrangements now have transformed wildly in recent years. Open and closed marriages, yes? Or unmarried long-term partnerships. And there is this idea of swinging? Humans are finally accepting of various gender pairings and couplings.”

“Well, some people are. Not enough, if you ask me.”

“Do you not value monogamy then? It seems to be the defining variable for humans.”

“I value it and I practice it, but I think often when we say monogamy, we’re really talking about several things. Often, it’s a concern about trust. Just because the person you’re sleeping with doesn’t sleep with others does not mean they’re automatically trustworthy.”

“Say more,” he prompted.

“Maybe a woman wants to have an affair with the hot guy in the supermarket and plans on leaving her lover before she actually cheats. That’s monogamy. People divorce when they think your body gets too fat or too worn down from having kids. That’s monogamy too. Maybe it’s a husband who trades out his wives on a regular basis when he gets bored. Monogamy as well. Very few people have a single sex partner for their entire lives these days. That just doesn’t happen anymore.

“Trust is far more crucial, I think. Maybe someone’s boyfriend is jerking off to something on the internet while the girlfriend is asleep and she’s fantasizing about somebody else while she dreams. But maybe they also love each other dearly and have no intention of ever letting the other go. There’s extraordinary trust there that is real and essential. I’m not convinced we’re supposed to give up our sexuality to all but a single person when we make a commitment to them, but I’ve never been with someone for so long that I felt like I needed to pursue some other sexual fulfillment. For others, I think it depends on the kind of relationship one has and no single mold is right for everyone. What about you all? Something tells me Eric thinks monogamy is literally not having sex with two or more people at the exact same time.”

Godric suppressed a smile. “Interesting. Vampires cannot be expected to be eternally monogamous, if by that we mean only one sex partner. It’s impossible given our lifespans and the lengths of our associations. There are those who stay partnered and bonded to a mate, even pledged – which is a very special form of our marriage – and they remain undyingly committed to each other, much like in your last example. But even then they often invite other lovers into their bed, together or separately, to spice things up. They almost certainly will have sex with the humans they feed upon. The two drives are very connected for us and we can’t subsist on vampire blood. Is it cheating if a human orgasms from an especially fine piece of chocolate?”

“Godric! I’m not sure that actually happens. Sex and food are not usually connected for us. The vast majority of us don’t get turned on by eating, despite all the myths about chocolate and oysters and other aphrodisiacs. Booze and drugs work, but that’s because they lower inhibitions.”

He laughed. “Perhaps the Dove chocolate company should be punished for false advertising. But you see my point, I hope. If a vampire is simply meeting their basic needs, these two drives that are intertwined for us, such actions are not seen as disloyal or even unfaithful. Disloyalty would be failing to honor the nature of the agreement between them. Like you said: trust is more important and I wholly concur. As for Eric’s habits, I will not comment. They are his to explain to you if you wish to know more on the subject. But, I can say that if you wanted exclusivity from me, both in intimacy and feeding, it is something I am more than willing and capable of providing for you.”

“Cool. I’d say let’s try that for now?”

“Certainly. Since I know you are going to harp on me about my nutrition, may I ask whether you would be bothered by bagged donor blood or Royalty Blended?”

“Of course, bagged is fine. I probably wouldn’t mind a donor if it was just feeding, although they seem kind of sketch. Isn’t Royalty synthetic though?”

“It is only part synthetic. And I cannot abide donors, so that’s out completely. I prefer to drink from you, if that is acceptable. I need very little blood at my age, so such an arrangement is easily sustainable. Were I young, it would be virtually impossible for me to make such promises of what we are calling ‘monogamy’.” Godric paused and looks at her curiously. “You must have a very clean diet, your blood is exceptionally pure. It’s beyond delicious.”

“Thanks. I eat organic.” Ros smiled and gave him a kiss. “So, I was kinda wondering about something else. I sort of get the impression that you’re bisexual.”

“Ah, yes, well. Gender identity does not matter much to vampires. We’re intensely sensual beings and we’re far more concerned with experiencing pleasure in all its forms. The only thing that complicates it much is age, which means unequal strength and abilities. It is the power dynamic that worries us. That’s why trust is a very big issue for me. I wasn’t always so old and invulnerable.”

“So no preferences?”

“Mmm…the young ones often stick with what they’ve known as humans until they want to try something new. You are really asking me about my preferences, yes?”

She nodded. “You’ve never tried a relationship with a human before. Am I just some experiment to you?”

“Ah, my muse. I’ve never tried a relationship with a human because I had no desire to nor did I think it was possible until I met you.” He traced his hands over the curves of her body, then stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. “You remind me of the first time I saw a bronze sculpture of Aphrodite. I didn’t know then that humans could shape metal in such a fashion. I was such a savage then. It was in Rome, when Rome had barely been founded. The royal families imported Greek statues to beautify their courts. You are perhaps familiar with the marble copies that were made much later? The copies of Polykleitus, Praxiteles, Myron and such?” Rosalyn knew them. She had been to the Louvre and British Museum. “You are like that statue, Rosalyn, like the first time I saw a goddess and didn’t know such a thing could exist. Only, you came to life right before my eyes. Beauty and intelligence, in equal measure. The ideal of womanhood in perfect symmetry. Those are my preferences. You are my preference. You’re simply stunning. You carry yourself with such grace. And I suspect you are deeply loyal, which is very much a – how do you say? – a turn on for me.”

She blushed and was rendered speechless by the compliment, so she kissed him hard instead. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders and strong arms and he arched under her touch, growling.

“Mmm, make that sound again,” she demanded.

“Which?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“That purring gravelly sound.”

“Hmm, you’ll have to make me,” he said, his voice growing husky.

She ran her hands over his shirt, feeling his solid muscles underneath and licked his mouth, biting his lower lip. It elicited the same rumble and she moaned in victory. Her hands wandered over his hips, down his thighs, and over the hardness of his crotch. Nimble fingers found the band of his pants and she went to unbutton them.

Godric placed his hands over hers, stopping her. “I need more time.”

Rosalyn retreated, concerned she had crossed some unspoken line. “Okay. Alright, I’m sorry.”

She tried to slide off his lap but he held onto her, keeping her there. “You misunderstand me. Did you not feel the plane start to lose altitude a minute ago?”

“I was busy.”

“Mmm. We’re starting the initial descent. So, like I said, I’m going to need more time. Twenty-six minutes until landing isn’t enough time to even begin all the things I want to do with you.”

“Oh,” she said, rubbing her nose against his in relief. She whispered into his ear, “Do I get any spoilers?”

“You’d like a preview?”

“Mmmhmmm.” He was immediately intrigued. She liked dirty talk. As it happened, he did too.

“You first. Tell me what you wanted to do just then.”

“Oooh, you are a naughty one! You want to know?”

“Oh yes,” he said, his fangs peeking out.

She gave him a sultry look. “I wanted to taste your cock.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Is that shocking?”

“It’s exciting,” he said, pushing her hands back down over the length in his pants, making her feel just how rock hard he’d grown. His pupils dilated and he licked his lips. “You want to taste me, lover?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“You wish to know if I will let you?”

“Uh huh.” She stroked him and it was almost too much. “I’m going to watch as you fuck my cock slowly with your mouth. I always will give you what you want, lover. You need only ask.”

Rosalyn swallowed reflexively at the sight of his sumptuous lips uttering such filthy words. “Do you come?”

“Ejaculate? Of course. Would you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” he asked in a whisper. His eyes were focused on her lips.

“Down my throat.”

Godric’s head dropped back and he nearly lost it. “Then I hope you’re thirsty.” He wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to reel himself in before getting too carried away.

Ros shivered in lust against him. “You sure we don’t have time? I’m feeling up to a challenge.”

“Only eighteen minutes now. I’m sure you could destroy me within seconds, Rosalyn, but no. I may be immortal, but it means I like to savor my firsts. They happen far too few and in between. Let’s not rush.”

“Fair enough. I just hope to hell you don’t live far from the airport.”

Godric threw his head back and howled in laughter. “The house is exactly 12.7 miles from the airport. But I’m sure we can rely on Eric to have left us some stupidly fast vehicle in the parking lot. The second we hit the tarmac, I promise I’ll drive like the wind.” He gave her a saucy look. “Who am I to keep a goddess waiting?”

Chapter Text

In Dallas, what began as a fine drizzle quickly turned into a fat pattering rain shower. The second the wheels thumped and squealed along the landing strip and the engines roared against the tide of the jet's inertia, Godric made good on his promise. He sprang into action. He had Rosalyn out the door and was charging across the tarmac, barking orders at the air traffic controllers and service technicians who scampered in their direction. At the customer service desk inside the private hangar, he picked up an envelope left for him and an apologetic clerk offered the couple a ride to their vehicle. Godric looked out the window at the golf cart like it was a dinky green toy, gave the guy a funny look, and walked out without another word. When they got to the uncovered car park, however, he realized he had no idea which car was theirs. The parking lot was surprisingly large. "You can go wait back inside, you're getting soaked."

From underneath the jacket she held over her head, Ros asked, "What model are we looking for?"

"An Audi," he said, staring at the key fob.

They trotted down the wide aisles as Godric beeped the keyless entry. Rosalyn laughed like a maniac and finally just put his coat back on and let the rain pelt her face. "How many Audis can there possibly be?" she asked. A lot, it turned out. Godric grumbled at the weak technological device. He started zipping as fast as possible through the parking lot. Finally, he saw the telltale flash of the lights in the far corner of the lot. They collapsed inside the car, both wet as fishes. "Welp, Eric definitely left you a stupid sports car."

Godric pursed his lips. "He certainly did." He revved the massive engine and found the thermostat. "I'm surprised it has heat. Most of these vehicles are extraordinarily useless when it comes to practical comforts."

Rosalyn could not keep track of how many traffic laws Godric proceeded to flagrantly disobey. Lights were blazed through. Corners were taken so sharply she felt the vehicle groan in protest. Speeds were used that must have tested the very limits of the ten-cylinder engine's ability to combust gasoline. They tore through a residential neighborhood and, after pausing to pass through a severe looking gate, pulled up to an estate. Godric was instantly by her door to help her out. Eric stood on the house's oversized portico, waiting for them with arms behind his back.

"How did you like the R8?" Eric asked. Godric tossed the keys at him. "Really? No? Was it the rear differentials? I know they're a little slippy at the top of the gearbox, but I thought you'd like the cushier ride. I'm not a fan of the aluminum composite, though."

Godric grunted. "Me either. I cracked the chassis cutting across Walnut Hill."

"What!?"

"Check it yourself. It failed where the aluminum profile meets the magnesium, right rear wheel. Rosalyn felt it go too. That means it isn't suitable for her safe transport. Get another one and have them use something else. The materials can't support the torque. I don't even know why these people bother if they're not going to do it right."

Eric jogged to the vehicle and reached under the wheel well. He lifted the vehicle off its suspension, checking it like a lame horse and stroking the bumper. "What did he do to you, baby? You poor thing!"

Rosalyn stared at the two wondering how many gallons of oil they had burned into the atmosphere to make it to the house in less than two minutes. The front door opened and a slim, dark haired woman dressed in a high collared skirt suit stepped out. "Sheriff, welcome home. The nest is cleared as you ordered and is fully secure."

"Thank you, Isabelle. I would like to introduce you to Dr. Rosalyn Murray. She is an advocate for equal education rights. Rosalyn, this is my Second in Command, Isabelle Beaumont."

"Hello," the woman said and turned to go inside.

"Hello, madame," Godric corrected quietly. Isabelle froze and cut her eyes at her boss in confusion. She quickly recovered and greeted the human using the respect usually reserved only for fellow vampires of equal or greater standing.

"My apologies. Welcome to Area Nine, Madame. Please do come in." She gave a slight bow.

Inside, Rosalyn was met with an ostentatious entryway. It had soaring ceilings and was flanked by a broad double staircase that imposed itself on the room. A wrought iron chandelier shaped like a wagon wheel swung overhead. Each of its lights was covered in a faux vintage hurricane lamp. A thick Navajo rug stretched across the parquet floor. A set of uncomfortable-looking benches with brass stud detailing lined the walls.

"You live here?" she said, unable to stop herself. She had expected something understated. The décor was completely incongruous with the man at her side. Everything was overdone and gaudy, with a vague "American West" theme. The McMansion screamed nouveau riche. Godric certainly had the riche part covered, though he did not seemed disinterested in that fact, but there was nothing "new" about him.

"It's fucking hideous, isn't it?" Eric said behind her. Rosalyn's mouth hung open as her gaze wandered up the showy stairs to the wagon wheel light fixture. "If you get the matches, Ros, I'll help you burn it down," he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"Don't you dare encourage him. He's done it before," Godric warned. "This belongs to the Area vampires whose annual tribute supports the operation of the residence. You torch it, Eric, and you can explain your actions to the king. I won't defend you." Eric gnashed his teeth but said nothing more.

Isabelle led them down a corridor to a series of interconnected living and sitting rooms. She paused at various alcoves and hallways to give a brief history of the home and point out a few horse statues and cowboy paintings that were supposedly important. The furniture in the living areas was a hodgepodge of overstuffed brown leather sofas and cow hides strewn on tile flooring.

"Is that a warthog?" Rosalyn gestured to one of the taxidermy heads mounted on the wall.

"Javelina," Godric murmured, only paying cursory attention to her reaction to the house. He was rapidly surveying the space, making sure Eric had picked up thoroughly and nothing untoward had been left lying around. These were the common rooms for the nest. It was amazing how often one found stray underwear, empty blood bags, and other sorts of messes left by his retinue. He had maids, but they did not always catch everything immediately.

"I guess I should be grateful those are animal trophies and not human heads, no?" she joked weakly. Eric shook his head in dismay.

"May I use your restroom?" Rosalyn wanted to towel off her hair and pee. She also needed a moment to reconcile how gravely out of sync this place was with her understanding of Godric.

"Isabelle, I am sorry to displace you on such short notice," Godric said quietly.

"It is no problem, Sheriff."

"Give me three days. You will say nothing about the woman to anyone."

"Understood. I have it under absolute control," Isabelle replied.

"Is there anything pressing that's come in tonight?"

"There's a maker's request."

"Does the turning need to be done with any urgency?"

"No, it seems normal. The paperwork is on your desk."

"Fine. I'll schedule a hearing when I'm free.'

They were discussing other minor details when they heard Rosalyn make a 'glech' sound down the hallway. Godric was at the bathroom door instantly. "Are you unwell?"

"No…no…I'm fine. Just give me a second."

Isabelle collected her things as Rosalyn emerged from the bathroom. She nodded to the Sheriff and his human and left carrying two suitcases.

"What's wrong?" Godric asked when Isabelle was gone.

"Nothing, I told you."

"You made a sound like something disturbed you. Are the facilities unsanitary? Should I call the cleaning services?"

Rosalyn shook her head. "No, sorry, I didn't mean for that to be out loud. It's just the bathroom…it's kind of…clinical. It's just different, that's all."

Godric went down the hall and flipped on the light, determined to understand the problem. Apothecary jars filled with cotton dressing pads, antiseptic, and other medical supplies lined the counter. One jar contained flavored condoms; another offered single-use packs of lubricant. A large orange bio-hazard container was affixed to the wall. Godric had never even been in this room before. "This is the donor bathroom, I apologize. Don't use this one again." He squatted down and pulled out a pack of toilet paper from underneath the sink and chucked it at Eric. "Are there other toiletries that you are in need of? I've got tissues, shampoos, and soaps in the master bath."

"Um, I think I forgot to pack toothpaste, but otherwise, I'm fine."

"Do we have human toothpaste?" Godric ducked down and rummaged around in the cupboard. He pulled out a little tube and held it up.

"That's cortisone cream. For itchy skin," Rosalyn said.

He took a moment to glance at the label. Grunting, he threw the tube back into the cupboard. "Eric, start making a list. Tell him exactly what you need."

"Oh, it's ok. I can just get some tomorrow," she said.

"He's going shopping tonight. It has only just dawned on me that I am less than prepared to meet your needs properly. You're going to need food as well."

"Brand name? Color of the box? Any details will help," Eric said.

"Sure. Crest Pro-white. The box is blue, I believe."

Godric led them to a kitchen galley. "This fridge is not for you." He opened it a fraction and stuck his head inside, remembering one of Stan's more disgusting habits. There was thankfully nothing too "serial killer" inside. Godric pointed to a mini-fridge under the counter. "That is for human food."

Rosalyn opened it and found an expired six-pack of Ensure, a half-finished Diet Coke, and an open box of ancient beef fried rice that had grown a layer of mold on the surface. "Er…okay. You're right. This isn't going to cut it." She tried a few cupboards to take stock of any other food there might be. They were full of glassware. A large palm shut the door and Eric pointed down to the single cabinet with a sticker labeled "HUMAN." Ros looked inside. There were two towers of red plastic cups. "Seriously? Solo cups?" There was not a dish or plate in sight.

"You cannot use the vampire glassware, Ros," Godric warned. "Absolutely never." There was a slight panicky waver in his voice. "Explain it, Eric."

"Nobody actually lives on synthetic blood," Eric said. "We use donated blood and screened donors. The glassware goes through the dishwasher so it's sanitized, but that's no substitute for effective sterilization and disinfection protocols. How can you know a pathogen hasn't slipped past the donor bank's controls? Mistakes happen. It is not safe. Surely you know the risks of other sick humans to you? Hepatitis? HIV? Vampires cannot transmit disease between humans, but -"

"No," Godric said sharply. "That's not completely true. Tell her truly. I want nothing hidden from her."

Eric nodded. He was starting to understand Godric's approach with Rosalyn. His maker wanted her treated as an equal. It was unorthodox, to say the least, but then, this was Godric. Everything he did was to his own drumbeat. "As long as we retract our fangs between each feed, it's completely safe. A sloppy vamp feasting off of multiple humans could spread something blood-borne but that's been a punishable offense since we started to understand how disease actually worked during the Black Plague."

"Eww! You were spreading it?" Rosalyn said.

"Yeah. It was a scary time for us. A third of Europe's humans died and the blood of the infected was nearly inedible it was so fouled by the disease. We starved." Rosalyn shook her head in disbelief. "It is extremely important to us that we keep humans as clean and healthy as possible, for the obvious reason that we need you for our own survival and because nobody wants to spend a month in a silver coffin for infecting a human."

"It's three months here in Dallas," Godric said.

"Three?" Eric laughed. "He's a tough Sheriff, what can I say, Ros. The point is that you don't need to worry about any of us. It's essential, however, that you not come into contact with anything else that might have held or touched human blood. Normally the kitchen facilities for humans and vampires are entirely separate – it's mandatory health code in the hotels, for example – but Godric doesn't host humans here."

Godric fidgeted, uncomfortable with the situation. "While you're here Rosalyn, you may touch anything in this house and help yourself to anything you like, but please do not open the blood fridge or handle the blood bags, even out of curiosity. It makes me very anxious. There is a medical grade deep freezer in the garage as well that I ask you to please keep out of."

"Do you want me to just dump it all so it's not here?" Eric asked his maker.

"No, that's silly." Rosalyn said. "I won't be tempted to peek at your stash. We're fine."

"Use the disposable cups, okay? Or if your environmental sensibilities are too offended by the plastic, I can purchase something ceramic just for you."

"We can order food to be delivered for you," Godric offered, "Or I can take you out for meals in the evenings, if you like, but tell Eric what you want stocked here in case you get hungry in between."

"Does this work?" Rosalyn tried the gas hob on the stove and it clicked twice and lit. She opened the warming drawer to the oven. No pans. "Alright, I suppose some breakfast and snacky type things are in order. You sure you don't mind going out, Eric?"

"And miss the chance to go grocery shopping for the first time in my life? Please. Give me a list. I will remember it."

"Alright. Tell you what." She smiled, knowing she was about to give Eric an unusual challenge. "In the grocery store, there's usually a housewares aisle. I'm going to need you to show some restraint here. I don't need a whole set of china. Get me one ceramic plate. One fork. One knife. One spoon. And pick out one drinking glass that is colored so it can't be confused with the vampire stuff."

"Color preference?"

"Go wild. Surprise me."

"Got it."

"Also pick out a nonstick 9″ frying pan and a spatula. Do you know what that is?"

Eric pulled out his phone. "Okay Google. Image search spatula." Rosalyn pointed to the right type. "What else?"

"I'm starting to like bossing you around, Eric Northman. It's fun when you actually listen to my instructions."

"Don't push it, Doc."

She chuckled. "I'm going to need the following: a dozen eggs. White or brown, it doesn't matter. A small box of unsalted butter. Salt and pepper – just the little cheap canisters, nothing fancy. In the produce section, get me one red bell pepper, a bunch of kale. Kale is a leafy vegetable, you'll find the leaves are gathered in a group tied with a twisty tie, so just one of those, okay? Some apples would be nice too."

"I remember liking apples," Eric said.

"Well, if I don't touch your grub, you keep out of mine too," she teased. "Just two or three Fujis, if they have that variety. They're mainly red."

"Organic," Godric chimed in. "Everything must be organic. That's what she prefers." He was proud that he knew this detail.

"Well, not everything is going to be available as organic, but just get what you can," she said. "Let's see. A couple white onions, a head of garlic, and three Yukon gold potatoes. Could you also get me a box of Starbucks instant Via coffee packets and a small jug of half and half cream? That will be in the diary aisle. Oh, and some non-fat Greek yogurt, any kind will do."

Eric looked at his maker for help. "Rosalyn?" Godric said. "That all sounds completely reasonable with one small exception. We have an allergy to all plants in the allium family."

"Oh!" She clapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had forgotten something so basic. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Of course."

"Onions, garlic, scapes - the smell of them fresh is slightly irritating. The scent of them being cooked is repellent. For very young vampires it is actually nauseating. It doesn't bother me anymore, and it's a total myth that it affects your blood quality, but Eric might get his wish to burn this place down if you cook garlic in here. The house would no longer be suitable as a Sheriff's nest. Most of my subjects are baby vampires."

Eric snorted at the thought. "They'd be puking crimson sheets at the doorstep, if they even made it that far."

"Right, okay, scratch the onions and garlic. Omelettes are delicious without either anyways."

"Anything else?" Eric checked. "Sure you don't want me to swing by the sex shop? Pick up a few choice items? I can make some recommendations." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Blondie, if you have the audacity to buy me a dildo, you know exactly where you can shove it."

Godric clenched his jaw, knowing Eric was really asking something else entirely. He was not speaking to Rosalyn; Eric was talking to Godric. "She is right, child. The only person who is going to be in silver handcuffs and a gag is you, if you don't stop testing my patience with your meddling. Now get moving."

"Fine," he shrugged and fell into Norse. "Are you sure you're going to be able to restrain yourself? I am worried. She is so fragile."

"I'll call you if you are needed. We'll be careful," Godric said.

Rosalyn dug out a credit card from her purse and held it out. Eric crooked an eyebrow at her. "Absolutely not."

"Eric, just take it."

"That is a hard 'no'. Now you two lovebirds go have fun." He waved them both off. "I plan on seducing a busty soccer mom into showing me how to navigate a supermarket. Be back later." In a blur, Eric was gone, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

Rosalyn took a moment to appreciate the fine work of the rainstorm. She had escaped with wet hair and a sopping hem. Godric, on the other hand, was dripping puddles.

"You're soaked," she said, pulling at the sleeve of Godric's white dress shirt. It clung to him like a second skin, revealing the dark blue ink of his mysterious tattoos. They were more extensive than she had realized. He had full bands around his muscular biceps in addition to the broad collar across his neck. "Good god, you look like an undead Mr. Darcy standing there like that."

Godric was suddenly grateful that Pamela had wheedled him into sitting through that particular televised interpretation of Austen's work. "What a perfect dandy you must have been in the 19th century," she murmured. Rosalyn looked at him ravenously. She ran a hand through the slightly curled mop of hair on his head and touched the ripples defining his stomach. "Like a really, super sexy, unbelievably fit Mr. Darcy. Actually, Darcy who?"

His mouth twitched at the compliment. "Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

Ros tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband. "I think we should get you out of these wet clothes."

"I can't catch a cold," he said mischievously. "And the temperature does not bother me."

"True."

"Perhaps my state of undress offends you."

"Maybe you've got it backwards. You are overdressed for the occasion."

He laughed and gave her a scorching kiss that practically caused her to swoon. "Come." He took her hand and lead her back through the living area to another corridor marked 'private'. Following him, she saw through the shirt plastered to his back that his entire spine was covered in yet another tattoo. She was extra determined to get him out of those clothes.

"This wing is for my personal use only. Make yourself comfortable here. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, however trifling." He ticked off the names the various amenities hiding behind the hallways and doors. "That's the pool room down there. I find swimming helps me to relax."

He paused at his personal study. "I spend most of my time in here." The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves. It was a massive collection of texts. Rosalyn wandered in, amazed. "Do you still have your flower?" she asked, gazing up at the tall shelving.

"Yes." He had hoped she would remember.

"Is it in here?"

"Yes."

He watched as Rosalyn browsed through the shelves, hands behind her back. "I can't figure out how this is organized," she said.

"It's not intuitive." Godric chuckled. "They're arranged by time. I remember the order I acquired each. I can scent each book's particularities as well. But most of these are quite new."

She took a step back, as if to better size up just how many volumes were in front of her. The array of languages was dizzying. "So there's no poetry section?"

"No."

"But you did put it in a poetry collection?"

"'A big book of poems' just as madame instructed," he said, savoring her curiosity.

"Do I get any other hints?"

"Nope," he said, popping the p.

"It's going to take me forever to find it."

Godric wrapped his arms around her from behind and set his chin on her shoulder. "I think that very well may be the point."

She craned her neck to see him. "You don't want me to know what you picked?"

"Oh, I do, Rosalyn. I want very badly for you to know which words I thought could even come close to doing justice to your beautiful gift to me." The way he whispered in his soft, smoky voice sent shivers through her.

"Then why the game?"

He paused and looked at her. "To keep you here, of course."

Rosalyn swallowed as a flush of heat coursed through her body. "Show me your room."

"This is my room, " he replied, delighted by their flirtation. "These are all my rooms."

"Your bedroom. I want to see it."

"Of course," he said neutrally. He turned on his heel, hands in his pockets, with a wry smile on his face. This much fun should be illegal. Impossible.

At the end of the hallway, Godric placed his hand on a biometric panel, releasing the door. It was heavier than the Sofitel Hotel's vampire-safe room. Inside, the furniture was modern with simple lines and surfaces. The walls were painted a light grey and the bedding and curtains were all in darker shades of navy and grey. "This space is different," she said.

"How so?" He leaned against the wall, watching her explore his most guarded space.

"It's you. This is much more what I expected."

"Yes," he said simply.

On a low white lacquered rectangular stand, there was a slim stereo bar and a shelf lined with a lengthy row of albums. "May I?" She went to the record player and found the needle in the middle of an album. She turned it on, curious to see what he had been listening to. It was a soft, downtempo melody with hushed, plaintive vocals and a baseline and percussion that beat hard and slow like a pulse.

Rosalyn jumped when suddenly the candle on the table burst alight. The room was flooded with candlelight from tapers and tealights spread throughout. "How did you…?"

Godric flipped off the electric lamp overhead. "The fire gift. Not one I actually like to use."

"Incredible."

He caressed her chin and kissed her cheek. "You merit exceptions." She twined an arm around his neck and swayed to the gentle music.

"Is she singing in the language you and Eric use?"

"This? No. No one knows our dialect of Old Norse anymore. This is in modern Danish."

"What's she telling us?"

"Ah, well. Let's see. She sings that 'From here where we stand, we can see all around us – to all sides. It moves when we leave; it changes all the time.'"

"Why were you listening to this?"

Godric did not answer for a long moment. They rocked slowly, fingers tangled, cheek-to-cheek. "You know why," he said finally. "That night with you. I've wanted that night over and over again. I have nearly infallible recall and yet going back to that memory, it felt further and further away. With you, I somehow understood exactly where I was. The moment you walked away, I couldn't see it anymore. I was feeling about blindly and without warning discovered that I was a man at sea. It was only then that I conceived of how gravely lost I had become."

Rosalyn gave no response; she simply accepted the confession and squeezed him a little harder. "You took the other half of the geode we found." She noticed it sitting on the bedside table the moment she walked into his room.

"I did. Where's yours?"

She hummed a laugh against him. "You'll have to come to Portland to find out."

"Are you inviting me into your home, Rosalyn?" he asked, his tone dropping. The thought was extremely exciting.

"It depends," she teased.

"What shall I do to gain your invitation?"

"You can start by letting me undress you."

Her words were answered with a clatter. Faster than she could see, Godric had taken off his mother of pearl cufflinks and thrown them carelessly to the floor. "Strip me, lover," he said.

Rosalyn's fingers were on his buttons quickly. She peeled his damp shirt off slowly, unwrapping him, revealing his flesh bit by bit, treasuring the anticipation. She ran her hands over every inch of his ink, the markings telling a story about a powerful, ancient man. She followed her caresses with trails of kisses. His nipples hardened under her fingers and his washboard stomach tightened under her touch. She undid his pants and let them drop to the ground. Her mouth found his. "Now me," she said.

Godric's pupils blew wide and his fangs ached to drop. He started with the downy skin he already knew – Rosalyn's bare shoulders, the dips and hollows of her neck and décolletage, the secret place behind her ear. Curious fingers slipped under the edges of her dress. His hands were cool but his touch felt hot, blazing paths of sensation along her skin where his fingertips explored. When he finally pulled the fabric over her shoulders, the heavy beading of her dress made it fall to the floor in a whispering rattle. He took a step backwards and let his eyes roam hungrily over the soft curves of her shapely body. He was panting in shallow gasps.

"Forgive me," he managed to say. "I do not mean to leer. It's just…you are more exquisite than I dreamed."

It was the most flattering compliment she had ever been given – and from an immortal no less. Rosalyn flushed deeply. "You look like you are going to eat me alive."

"I just might," he countered, a wild glint in his eyes. He could not resist his need to touch her any longer. Palms ran over the peaks of her bare, unrestrained breasts, down her belly, over the crescent swell of her backside. He was breathing praises in her ear, relishing each new territory he discovered, rasping his breathy delight in jagged fits and starts.

Rosalyn slipped out of her underwear and tossed them aside. When his hand wandered between her thighs, he reached down to the thin trail of hair on her pubis and he pinched it playfully with a devilish smirk. "I like this." Rosalyn mustered a hum in response. "I like this very much," he said, running his fingertips over the little landing strip that led to the cleft of her sex.

"Mmm, good. I'm glad you don't mind. Going totally bare makes me feel like a little girl, but I try to keep things trimmed."

Godric's hand froze mid-teasing stroke. He furrowed his brow. "I have not prepared myself for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I am fuzzy. What do men do today in this respect? I do not know the customs."

"Don't be silly, Godric. I don't care at all. Au naturel is fine."

"I am giving my body to you, lover. Tell me how you want it."

She pulled him to her and kissed him deeply. "I want you just as you are." Godric was less than convinced. He slipped off his socks and boxer briefs. "I recall being promised that I would get to taste you as soon as we got here. I'm still waiting." Rosalyn dropped to her knees in front of him.

Godric stared at the ceiling, praying for control. After a moment, she had not touched him and he looked down. Rosalyn was frozen in front of him, her expression unintelligible. He tugged at the tight curls crowning his sex. "I knew it. Trim or shave? Some sort of combination?" She shook her head no, wide-eyed. "What then?" Rosalyn could not find words and she waved her hand. He smelled a shock of adrenaline that cut through her arousal and it was alarming.

"Am I not acceptable to you?" he said, visibly upset. He covered himself in embarrassment. She still had not answered him, so he bent down to retrieve his undergarments.

"You…your…I'm sorry. Don't do that." She grabbed his calf and he pulled her to her feet.

"Talk to me," he implored.

Rosalyn gestured at the appendage hanging between his strong legs. "I've never actually seen a cock that big, Godric. I'm just a little in shock. You're going to rip me in half."

Godric laughed in relief. "This? It's just the transformation. We all end up enhanced when we're turned."

"'Enhanced'? That's an understatement. You're not even fully erect." She held up her wrist next to him in comparison.

"The blood often captures aspects of a person's physicality that are active when made. I was maybe twenty? Twenty-something year-old young men haven't changed much, even after two millennia. I liked to run and swim and jerk off." He shrugged. "I can't do anything about my physical appearance now, other than cut my hair and nails. But if you're worried about me hurting you, I promise that I won't. We'll take it slow. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You're in charge."

"It's just been a really long time for me."

"I can guarantee that it has been longer than that for me."

Rosalyn crossed her arms. It hiked her breasts up in an especially alluring way and she had no idea that her defiance made her appear even more enticing. "A year," she guessed. He shook his head. "Two years?" He laughed and led her to the bed. They laid down and curled up side by side.

He settled into the pillow underneath his head. "The last time I had full-on sexual intercourse was before you were born."

"No way," she said, scandalized.

"It is the truth. It was the '70s. We were on roller skates."

"What!"

"Studio 54."

"You haven't had sex in over – what - thirty-five years?"

"I think there were some lap dances and maybe a blow job or two sprinkled in during the '80s, but my memory is a little…distorted. Eric spent a lot of this century in New York learning about investment banking. Every time I visited we would inevitably end up in some club feeding off of Wall Street types with staggering cocaine habits. It always got out of hand."

"You're saying Eric Northman basically had a coke problem and you were both too high to remember the '80s?"

"We can't get addicted, of course, and the effects are very short-lived, but yes, something like that. Amleth and I had to have an intervention before he ran afoul of the King of New York. I got him to move down to Louisiana once we knew the Reveal was going to happen."

"So you're really overdue on quality sexy time."

"I don't think of it like that."

"How then?"

He considered her question. "I'm ready for an intimacy I've never had before."

Rosalyn kissed him, nuzzled his face, and let her hands roam. "I can give that to you. Let me please you." Her hand wrapped around his thick length and he let out a guttural cry. He politely stilled her movement, lest he come right then and there. Rosalyn ran a thumb over the moist tip of him and sucked on the finger. "Mmm."

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. You taste like a man."

"Of course. But then, I am much more than a man." He wound a leg through hers and pulled her flush with his body. The heat radiating off of her warmed him from the inside out.

"My seed is dead. You know this?"

"Yeah."

"Like my saliva, it has mild healing properties. It will help alleviate any discomfort you feel. But, let's try something? I want to make you come without touching you. Will you show me how you flush with orgasm just at the thought of my touch?"

Rosalyn's breath hitched in her throat. In an excited pounce, he perched over her, kissing a trail down her body to her most sensitive places. He spread her legs and tasted the soft, thin skin of her inner thighs, stopping just short of where she wanted his mouth most.

"Oh gods, you smell delicious," he cursed and blinked, unsteady. He stared up at her as he inhaled her, mouth slightly ajar. His tongue darted out and a single bead of her moisture dropped onto it. Godric reeled back onto his knees and his back arched. His stomach grew taut and, eyes closed, he stretched his own legs wider, his cock straining upward. His hands gripped his thighs and without warning, he ejaculated in hard spurts, sending glistening ropes of his pleasure on the bed.

"You cheated," he declared when he finally looked down at her. "It was your turn, not mine."

"Sorry?" she said, laughing. It did not go unnoticed that his erection was still swinging heavily between his knees. He did not need to recover.

"It's fine. Watch me, lover. I'm going to destroy you with nothing." His eyes stared into hers with determination and he resumed his position between her legs. "Spread yourself a little wider. Yes, there. Like that." He blew on her and Rosalyn writhed at the sensation. He did it again, this time harder, creating a vibration in the air with his supernatural abilities. She gasped and grabbed a handful of his hair. "No cheating. I'll hold your thighs if you can't behave," he threatened.

"Don't stop," she cried. He blew again and within a minute she was clenching and moaning in orgasm. She pulled at him desperately to feel his touch, but she could not make him move. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow. "Again. I want to feel you. Touch me."

"Where?"

"Touch my body. Lick me."

Godric ran two fingers through her slick vulva and immediately had them in his mouth. She reached for his erection but he was too quick.

"You want me to suck on your beautiful pussy, Rosalyn?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, lover."

"Suck me. I'm going to come on your face."

At that, Godric fell on her, kissing and ravishing her with his mouth. His tongue darted into her and he growled, sending vibrations through her pelvis. He lathed her flesh, adoring it, tonguing her swollen clitoris at ungodly speeds, savoring her folds.

"Can I touch you inside?" he asked. His hand hovered at her entrance. Rosalyn was beyond speech and simply bucked against the pressure of his touch. He penetrated her slowly to the last knuckle and he had to look away to maintain control. The rich aroma of her arousal, the sound of her enjoyment – his senses were overwhelmed. The visual field was simply too much. He felt her muscles expand wider, her body opening for him like a blossom, wanting more. "More, Ros?"

She pulled on his hair and gripped his shoulder. That would be 'yes'.

He was gentle with his hand and merciless with his tongue. The pressure built and built and he slowed at exactly the right moments, compounding her pleasure until she was truly desperate. She insisted that he continue. He was rewarded with a rising scream and a set of hard contractions on his three fingers.

Panting, Rosalyn looked down at the vampire between her legs. He was drinking from his own wrist while the other hand still helped her ride out her orgasm. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and released his arm, licking his lips. "Was that alright?"

"Alright?" She raised an eyebrow. "I think I almost blacked out. That was the best orgasm I've ever had. Why didn't you drink from me?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not ready yet." In reality, he was barely keeping his inner beast caged. Drinking his own blood was a desperate measure against the crashing tide of his need for her. Godric collapsed beside her. "You want me to bite you?"

"Pleasure is a two-way street. Go for it when you're ready."

"Do you want me to heal it?"

"I don't mind. I'd be honored to wear your mark." He smiled, knowing he was hearing echoes of something Eric must have said to her. Regardless, it pleased him immensely that she felt this way. "Now, we're 2 for 1. I'm not comfortable with that number," she said.

"Then tell me how many more orgasms you would like."

"Tit for tat. It's your turn."

"Hmm. Is that so? I'll make you a proposition. I only get to have one when you do. I can do this all night. You're going to get bored."

"'Bored' is hardly the right word. But fair enough."

"Come here, like this." He rearranged her so she was laying sideways on the bed, her head hanging off the edge of the mattress. He stood on the floor in front of her, reaching down over her body, and began pleasuring her. It gave her perfect access to him. Rosalyn wrapped both hands around his gorgeous length. She sucked on him and he braced himself against the bed with a groan. He did not dare move any part of his body save for his hand. She moaned against him, taking him deeper, twisting a talented tongue over his shaft.

Rosalyn was not satisfied. She wanted more. Her hand grabbed his rock-hard backside. He would not move. She slapped his ass once, then again, harder, and he relented, falling forward, so that she could destroy him with her mouth. In short order he felt the tension of ecstasy crest and break and it unfurled through him, pumping down her throat. Her body reciprocated, feeding off his excitement and she squeezed over his hand in another intense orgasm.

They did it again. And again the two lovers sang in a chorus of pleasure.

Each time they switched their positions to gratify each other in different ways with their hands and mouths. Finally, Rosalyn pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Godric searched her eyes, making sure he was reading her desires correctly. She tightened her grip on him. "Like this, Rosalyn?"

"Yes. Just go slow."

He hesitated, glancing down between their bodies. "Do you normally come like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"This position is not meant to please a woman. Missionary was invented by men who wanted easy access. Look at your body, darling. It pulls your pleasure center up and out of the way." He pulled her left leg down off his hip and rearranged his knee on the outside of her own. She immediately felt the difference; it pressed her down on him in a rather promising way. He closed in on her, breathing in her neck and running his hands over her curves. And then, trapping her in a deep kiss, Godric slowly pressed himself into her. Rosalyn's nails went straight into his biceps, pressing dents into the blue patterns there.

"You do the moving," he whispered. She rolled her hips up to meet him and his shaft stroked her nub as he penetrated her and she cried out. She repeated the action, with the same effect. Godric rocked slightly, once, twice, and again, and she came undone with only the tip of him in her tight body.

"What the fuck position is that?" she said once she was semi-coherent.

Godric laughed against her forehead. "The star. The French call it 'crushing the praline'." He rolled them over, stretching out on his back like a pleased cat, arms behind his head, his woman straddled on top. "We can try that way again, but I think it's better if you take control this time, Rosalyn. I don't want to hurt you. I think you're more than ready, but if you are sore I can heal you with my blood."

"But a bond…"

"No, just a healing mark – an intimate one, however, and it's really going to tell others I mean business. It's your choice."

She took a measured breath. "You want me to straddle you and ride your big cock, is that it?"

"Oh, yes."

"Say it."

"I want to feel you wrapped around me. I'm going to make you ejaculate all over me. Have you ever felt that?"

"Well, kind of. Maybe?"

"Then that's a 'no'. You will. The gods will hear your screams." He leaned in and scraped his fangs over her throat, tongue stealing a taste of her sweat. "I'm going to make them jealous, goddess."

A stretching burn between her legs quickly melted into oblivion. Rosalyn's hair had tumbled out of its pins and it fell about her as she indulged herself with the body beneath her. Godric was thankful for the modern headboard's row of steel slats. He hung onto them for dear life, doing his absolute best not to flinch or react to the extraordinary sensations coursing through his body. She crashed down on him, taking every last thick inch of his length, pounding away as she touched herself.

Every time she came he gave himself over to her, letting himself release deep into her. They came together multiple times and Rosalyn immediately understood about the magic effects of his semen. It did not just heal. It made her insides feel even hotter, more insatiable. She rubbed the creamy fluid over her clitoris experimentally and that was when things got really interesting. "Stop lying there doing nothing," she said. "Fuck me, Godric! Please!"

Slowly, he unwound his death grip on the headboard and rolled to a sit, letting out a low, purring growl. His eyes were black with predatory desire. He wound an arm about her waist and pumped into her with hard with a single stroke to adjust how she was straddling him. He dropped his fangs fully and bared them, letting her know his intentions. None of them were honorable at present.

He bent her backwards, guiding her by a pull on her hair, supporting her with an iron arm underneath her back, forcing the peaks of her perky breasts into the air. He withdrew himself as slow as possible, wanting her to know him through fleshly memory. In a single, quick motion, he slammed in her. "Yes!" she cried. Godric did it again, just as tantalizingly slow. Rosalyn made an incomprehensible sound. He continued to her work her body and her spine tipped over in a rainbow, exposing her core to him.

"I can feel you, Rosalyn."

"Unh," she responded.

"You're going to explode on me."

"Ehuh," she said, grasping his firm thighs in an attempt to make him fulfill his promise.

"Come with me now, lover," he ordered. He shifted into untraceable speeds, pleasuring her nerves in ways she had not known were possible. He seemed to be everywhere, within her and without her. She felt something building in her that was inexplicable. "Yes," Godric said, as if he could read her mind.

Rosalyn felt herself burst into a panoply of sensations and Godric tumbled down with her into a sacred place of oblivion. A sting hit her neck. The salty, tangy, sweet hit his tongue. And there was only bliss. They were one, together. Pulsing, thrumming, giving, taking.

Whole.

Chapter Text

At first, it was the repetitive ticking hiss of his turntable circling endlessly at the end of its record that broke through the heavy fog of carnal ecstasy. Then, from somewhere remote, Godric registered the piercing beep of his security system arming itself in preparation for sunrise. Time bled on and on and he was swept away in the heady, thunderous undercurrent of intoxication. It drove his lust and hunger harder even as it sated it at the same time.

What finally brought him to the surface is his progeny, calling to him louder and more insistently through their bond. Eric was sending him cries of distress, and it cut through Godric in a series of hair-raising shocks. Godric suddenly regained consciousness and realized he was still feeding deeply from the beauty in his arms. He immediately broke his deadly embrace.

Rosalyn was limp in his arms when he released her. She sunk to the mattress with a deep sigh. His hand went to her wrist to feel her blood pressure; his ears pricked to analyze every gurgle and murmur of her cardiovascular system. “Rosalyn, are you dizzy?”

“Mmmm. Perfectly exhausted,” she slurred in a hum.

“Answer me, are you light-headed? Do you feel faint? Your heartbeat sounds normal but I cannot tell whether you are fine.”

“No.”

“No what? No, you aren’t fine?” His voice raised in panic.

“I’m fine. Maybe a little thirsty.” She opened her eyes a crack and saw he was concerned. She hitched up on an elbow. “Sweety. I’m okay.” She touched his face and smiled. It did not remove the crinkle of worry across his brow.

“You are 5’7″ tall, yes?”

“Mmhmm.”

Godric did the math in a flash. He had taken somewhere around 15-17% of her blood volume. It was a borderline case, but probably alright. He flopped back in relief. He heard Eric ask him a question from the other side of his bedroom door, inaudible to human ears.

“Bring water and sugar,” Godric replied. “What has sugar in the food Eric brought you?” he said to her.

“The fruit – the apples,” she said and strethced happily.

“An apple, Eric,” he ordered.

“Did you think you took too much?” Ros wondered.

“I took well over half a pint. I got a little lost there. It won’t happen again.”

“I thought that was the plan. Get lost together? I know I did.”

“Are you sure you feel okay?”

“Godric, what time is it?” she said testily.

“It’s nearly 7am,” he replied, not sure why it mattered.

“Then there’s your answer. I’ve been up for over 24 hours now. I took two planes. I witnessed my first vampire brawl at a black-tie event. I went dancing in the stars, broke a racecar, and then had wild sex with you all night long. I’m just unbelievably sated and really tired.”

“Is that so?” he said, his mouth curling into the trace of a smile. Her pluckiness reassured him.

“It happens to be the truth. And that’s the short version. There were fairies and werewolves and tricky queens and that mystery of a man you call Amleth.”

“Truth is stranger than fiction.” He laughed. “And most fictions contain a kernel of truth. This I know for a fact.” The impish coil that lived at the edge of his lips grew and she ran a finger along it, wondering where it lead and what it meant.

“I wish I had the code to your grin,” she said.

“Yes? Then you shall have it, lover. But only in due time. I cannot give you all of my secrets so quickly.”

“At least tell me about this one smile. What are you thinking?”

“Hmm. Good question. I am thinking that…I want to do this!” Rosalyn found herself attacked in a flurry of playful, vampire-fast kisses that land in a tickling cascade all over her cheeks and neck and shoulders.

She laughed at his lightheartedness and he wrapped against her, content simply to stare at the woman who still seemed like an impossible mirage.

“Will you heal this for me?”

He lifted his head to inspect the bite on her neck. His large fangs had left two deep punctures in her perfect, creamy skin. In his ecstasy, he had sunk his teeth in to the gums.

“You wish to have my mark,” he said.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.”

“It’s too bad I can’t see what you all see. I must have tried for hours in the mirror.”

Godric went to bite his tongue but her words give him pause. He was struck with an idea. “Can I try something? It might sting for a second. Here.” He took her hand and closed her fingers over his nipple. “Pinch me as hard as it hurts so I know exactly how it feels to you. I’ll stop if it’s painful.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to try healing you in a slightly different way.” He sucked hard on his palate, gathering his spit and coating his fangs completely. Very carefully, he slid his teeth back into the bite, sealing the broken flesh inside, molding the wound around his fangs. Rosalyn tightened her hold on his rosy, tight nipple in anticipation of something hurting more than any actual pain. She only felt him sucking on her flesh with a cool tongue. Godric pulled back, curious about his handiwork. Then he bit his palm. The thick crimson welled up in two sluggish streams. “For you, my muse – my blood.”

Pulling the bite open, he squeezed his fist over it and filled the little cavities. Right as he was sealing it over with his tongue, there was a knock at the door. “Eric wishes to come in,” Godric said, lapping the last remnants of his blood off her neck.

“Hang on!” She shouted as if Eric could not hear her perfectly. She pulled the duvet over them for modesty right as the door lock clicked and Eric came waltzing in. He inhaled deeply.

“Sweet halls of Valhalla!” he said. “It smells fantastic in here.” Godric chastised him with a cluck of his tongue. Eric loped over to the bed with a plate and striped glass. When he squatted down to her level, he froze when he saw why the air was heady with his maker’s blood.

“Now there’s a sight I thought I’d never see,” Rosalyn said. “Northman serving a measly human.” She took a greedy drink from the glass. Eric had no pithy retort. In fact, he ignored her completely. He craned his head to get a clearer view of her neck so much that he nearly let her apple roll off the plate he was holding. Ros snatched it and took a crunchy bite. Eric was wide-eyed. His hand went out to touch her throat, only to be smacked away, lightning fast, by Godric.

“Look, but do not touch.”

“Goðí,” Eric said in total awe. “How…”

“An experiment.”

He inched closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “By all means, Eric, have a seat. Please, make yourself comfortable. Shall I scoot over so you can join us?” Ros said. Eric still did not react to her jibing.

“That’s the most beautiful blood mark ever made,” he said quietly. Rosalyn looked to Godric, but if he is proud of his work, it does not show. Eric blurred off into the bathroom and came back with a small hand mirror. Ros scrutinized the spot on her neck.

“Oh, neat. I can see it. It doesn’t look like shiny, sparkly magic to me, but I definitely see how it resembles two rubies. That’s really nice, Godric. Thank you.”

Eric shook his head in disbelief and pressed a silent question to his maker. Godric blinked slowly: Yes, he may tell her. “Ros, you see only the surface. It’s…to our eyes…Jävla fan, Goðí,” he swore.

“What is it?” She pulled at the skin. Eric reacted, but stopped himself short of grabbing her hands. He instinctively wanted to protect the blood on her from being roughly prodded and jostled. Godric had already started to move to bat him away again.

“What do you see?” Ros said.

Eric forced himself to put some distance between her. He took a seat over near the stereo. The scent of sex and blood in the air was starting to get to him and if he accidently touched Rosalyn, he was liable to pull his hands back crushed by one very territorial maker. He turned the record player off, stopping the annoying clicking sound it had been making.

“Godric has sealed two vials of his blood in your neck in the shape of his enormous fangs. They curve around either side of your carotid artery, protecting it. Anyone who tries to drink there from you would have to spill his blood – it’s an automatic death sentence. It’s the most terrifying, awe-inspiring, gorgeous mark I’ve ever seen on a human being.”

Godric took the mirror from Rosalyn and set it aside. “It is for you, dear one. I sealed the bite from the inside out. It will last longer and it will warn the others that I see any harm to you as a blood offense against me. If you ever need me, I am right here.” He caressed the column of her throat, hoping in time she would understand what he had offered.

“Thank you,” she said and kissed his temple. She took another bite of the apple. “So how’d the shopping go, Blondie?” She realized that his long blond mane was disheveled and he had changed into track pants and a racer tee. He appeared unusually discombobulated.

“Oh, you might say it was unexpected.”

“How so?” she said. She offered the apple to Godric. He sniffed it and smiled.

“Well, I was in the company of a MILF named Janice who was kindly explaining the difference between kale and chard to me when someone decided to flip his maker’s bond wide open after about a century of near radio silence. You remember that clever little move you pulled where you figured out that I am still bonded to my maker?”

“Yeah.”

Godric raised an eyebrow. It was yet another intriguing revelation.

“I didn’t mention just how closely bonded we are. One minute I’ve got big plans for the back of Janice’s minivan. Next thing you know, I’ve taken out an entire produce stand and I’m jizzing in my drawers like a 12-year-old boy. I had to make up some bullshit about being epileptic and run through Whole Foods with a basket over my ruined suit pants. You know how ‘non-fat Greek yogurt, any kind’ was the last item on your list? I have no clue if it’s Greek, Spartan, or Trojan yogurt that you got. I just grabbed something and fled before I was arrested for public indecency.” Ros clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. She had not realized progeny could feel their makers’ emotional and physical states that overtly. “I have to hand it to you two, that’s the best sex I’ve had in a long time and I was getting that second hand. Debilitating and completely humiliating, but good. Nice work, kids. Maker, I can only assume I’m being both rewarded and punished by this unfiltered onslaught from you.”

Godric remained impassive. “You were both right and wrong in your choices.” In truth, he had already forgiven Eric, but he would draw this out a bit longer just to make sure Eric would not try to pull such a dangerous stunt again.

Eric sniffed. “So where are you putting me up for the day?”

“It’s only two hours after dawn. You’re still getting the bleeds this soon?”

“Pshah. Like you didn’t at my age. I am tired. Come on.”

“I should have made you sleep in the back yard.”

Eric retorted sharply and Godric shot right back. They fell into their old language, bickering, until Rosalyn intervened. “What exactly is the problem?”

“All the private bedrooms are locked. Eric is trying to convince me that he deserves comfort.”

“Don’t make me sleep in the ‘guest room’. It smells like were-piss down there,” Eric said.

“Eww.” Rosalyn wrinkled her nose. “Why does your guest room smell like pee?”

“It’s where naughty vampires and other foolish supes get put into time out,” Eric said. “And I don’t want to go to ground there!” he said, raising his voice.

“It’s your dungeon,” she guessed.

“We prefer the term ‘holding cell.’ ‘Dungeon’ is so 15th century,” Godric teased.

“Don’t you have a travel coffin? I don’t mind if Eric is in here. We had to room together in a pinch when I was tangled up with that Ronwe character.”

Godric’s eyes narrowed like lasers on his child. “You did not glamour her.”

The statement was completely loaded. Eric knew his maker did not want this particular human glamoured, yet he was raised never to leave himself exposed to a human in his day death. “I’m screwed however I answer that.” He angrily yanked the pillow out from underneath Godric’s head, assuming he was going to be bedding down in the jail.

“Answer me,” Godric ordered.

“No. I didn’t glamour her.”

“Are you telling me that you slept in a room with nothing but a bit of titanium and a piddling alarm clock between you and an unglamoured human?”

“Look, I had to give her a sloppy glamour when I found out what was going on with the demon. She slapped me for it afterwards, rightly so, and asked me not to do it again. The Sofitel does it right, there’s not a stick of wood in the place. She couldn’t code out. It was fine.”

“Yet anyone can pass a stake and a length of silver through the food slot,” Godric said.

“Does she look like someone plotting to murder anyone? She didn’t even know how to use the fucking food carousel when I got her to safety! I told her not to even think about touching the coffin and she didn’t. She didn’t even lift up the bed skirt.”

Godric looked over Ros, assessing the fact that she had proven herself trustworthy in this case. “We will discuss this later, Eric.”

“Fader, please.” A trickle of blood escaped his nose. Another stream found its way down his ear.

Godric let out a deep sigh and padded over to a door in the corner of his room. He keyed in and pushed it open to reveal a set of stairs descending into the earth. “You may not sleep in my bed.”

“Great. Cement floor it is then.”

Godric blocked the heavy door with his body and looked up at his tall progeny. “There is an extra-large travel coffin in the wardrobe. How could you think I would forget to consider my child? You always have a place in my home and at my side.” Eric bowed his head and placed a grateful hand on his maker’s shoulder, then disappeared down the stairwell.

“You don’t sleep in here,” Rosalyn realized.

“No. I’d never even used this bed before.” He rejoined Ros under the covers.

“Will you sleep here with me?”

Godric searched his bond with Eric to see whether he had settled. The Viking had passed out the second his head hit the pillow. They were alone once more. “We look truly dead during the day. We almost never move.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do. We’re completely vulnerable.”

The problem loomed over them. A vampire’s resting place was his most carefully guarded secret. “Okay. Would you feel safer if I slept down there with you?”

“It is not a place for humans. When the door closes, it is completely sealed. There’s no circulating air. It’s a crypt, Rosalyn. You could suffocate. Perhaps I can have it modified with an oxygen scrubber and climate control.”

She sighed, understanding this issue was complex for him. “Alright.”

“I have insomnia,” he admitted, letting his eyes wander to the ceiling. “Two days out of five the sun doesn’t affect me. Someone must have worn me out if I’m feeling the sun so clearly today.” He joked in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. “I should let myself rest. I haven’t slept since Eric told me he thought his life was in danger.”

“When was that?” She dreaded the answer.

His eyes stayed fixed upwards. “Two weeks ago.”

“Oh Godric!” She put a sympathetic hand on his silent chest.

“Even if I stay up here, I’ll be too hyper-alert to truly let myself sleep if you’re at my side. You’re asking me to do something I’ve literally never done before. I know in my head that you mean me no harm, but it goes against my every instinct.” Godric found himself yawning. “You mustn’t tell Eric about my insomnia. I don’t want him to know.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons as his maker. Will you keep this secret for me? It’s in his best interest that he doesn’t find out just yet.”

“You’re testing me,” she said flatly. “You and Eric both do this constantly.”

“Yes.”

“Godric, I will do my utmost to keep this secret for you. But you need to be realistic. I’m human. We make mistakes. If I accidently let something slip or Eric glamours me into telling him if he suspects I’m hiding something from him, are you just going to shut down on me?”

“We are all fallible, Rosalyn. That is my point. We need to reconcile our different imperfections so that together we are stronger, not more vulnerable. You trust too easily; I am probably too distrustful.”

“‘Probably’? You yourself said tonight that you only fully trust Eric. It has isolated you. I saw that at the ball and it is heartbreaking to me. You have to let me in if you want to know me.”

“Yes,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “This is why we have so much to learn from each other. I want to teach you to be more skeptical about certain things that are dangerous to you and I ask that in return that you help me with how wary I am of what I know is dangerous to me. Right now you want to be with me at my weakest and I will give that to you, but it is going to take a little time. We said we both wanted a relationship built in trust. Let us try something. Call it a show of good faith on both our parts.”

Godric slid out of bed and went to the main bedroom door. He tapped in bypass codes on the security panel with rapid fire keystrokes. Ros peered over his shoulder, stroking the serpent tattoo on his back while she watched. The digital screen bleeped in protest and then blinked, waiting for its next command.

“I’ve given you my mark of protection. Now you can give me the security I need. What I am about to entrust you with is nothing less than my life and that of my progeny. Only two others have access to this door – Isabelle and Eric. No one but me has access to that door,” he pointed across the room to the antechamber. “Two doors protect me in the daytime when I am vulnerable. This whole wing is light-proof and I want you to be able to move about the house during the daytime as you please, but I need you to understand the responsibility.”

“Of course. Just tell me how to use it.”

He pressed her hand onto the cool glass screen. It recorded her digital signature with a ping. Godric kissed her knuckles lightly. “You will protect me, Rosalyn, as I will protect you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, finding his mouth irresistible.

“Let me explain, then. This door cannot be left open for more than thirty seconds or it will put my entire system on lockdown. After thirty seconds, the door will automatically close and trip an alarm, leaving you on whichever side you’ve ended up on. You won’t be able to get a single door or window anywhere in the entire house open, this one included, until I am able to reset it. This door won’t open if the sleeping chamber door is open and vice versa, unless I use a bypass code. These two doors are virtually impenetrable. Someone would have to literally blow up the house to get past them and even then, that is the point of the airtight sleeping chamber. You could drop a missile on this place and it would hardly rattle the walls down there.”

“Alright.”

“Let’s talk about what to do in an emergency. Say there is a fire, intruders, or you get stuck in this room and you need to get out, for example. Hit this red button here. Red is your panic button and it’s on all the security panels throughout the house. Don’t hesitate to use it. I’d rather have a false alarm any day. The alarm will get me moving, even during the daylight. Eric is a slowpoke by comparison, but it will rouse him too. You won’t hear the alarm - it’s a higher frequency than your ears can detect. But if the red button starts blinking, it is working.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s a hypothetical. If someone were to force into the house and you were outside this door, say in the kitchen getting a snack, they might try to use you to get into this room. Imagine they threaten you. Maybe they have a weapon of some sort. What do you do?”

“Uh…I would….um…”

“That’s the wrong answer, darling,” he said gently. “Do not hesitate. You don’t even consider trying to fight for me. You help them. I’m this old because I’m that hard to kill. If someone threatens you, you help them. Maybe put on a little show about what a jerk I’ve been to you so it looks like you’re happy to double cross me. Do you understand?”

“Okay. I let them in. But then what?”

“Very good question. If you haven’t been able to hit a panic button, use the system against itself. Open the door for them and tell them you cannot access the sleeping chamber. Convince them to come inside and show them your palm doesn’t work on the other door. Let the door stay open so that it hits the thirty second mark and locks them in. Try to get back out into the hallway if you can, but even if you get locked in here with someone stupid enough to cross me, I’ll be faster when that alarm sounds. Much faster.”

“I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t a little daunting. Is there something specific I need to be worried about? Is that why you’re telling me all this?”

“Not anything more than the usual. The were-packs in Dallas have been squabbling lately. The faction that guards the exterior perimeter of the estate is loyal to me, but I’d rather you not go wandering around beyond the property during the daytime. The Fellowship of the Sun headquarters are also based nearby, as I think you know, which is one of the reasons they need a good Sheriff here to keep tabs on their activities. The weres and the human zealots are dangerous to us and to anyone associated with a vampire. They have a big advantage so long as the sun is up.”

“Fair enough. I’m probably going to sleep until sundown anyways.”

He smiled. “Good, then I’ll get to see you wake.” Her hands wound around his waist and she found herself yawning. “One last thing. While these doors are bomb proof, the rest of the exits in the house are pretty sturdy, but only in a standard way. All you need to do is throw a chair through a window if you need to escape. The closest one is at the end of this wing, just to the right. Over-fortification doesn’t make you safer; barriers can easily become death traps. I like options.”

“Let me see that I understand this. If there’s any problem at all, I find a way to trip the alarm. If I even suspect there’s something off, I trip the alarm. If the pizza delivery guy looks at me the wrong way, I hit the alarm.”

“The guards won’t let anyone past the gate. Caleb is the head day guard. You saw him when we came in. Only open the front door for him, okay? If any of the other guards are knocking on my door during the daylight, even if they have something you’ve ordered – especially if they have something you’ve called in – there’s a problem. It might be just as simple as my people screwing up; only Caleb is allowed to approach the house. But in any event - ”

“Red button if it’s not Caleb.”

“You got it.”

“I feel like I’ve just been promoted to the Secret Service or something. It’s kind of fun. But I’m going to try really hard not to set off the alarm by being an idiot so you know I’m trustworthy and can use your system correctly. I won’t leave the house, since Dallas is apparently full of wackos who might use a vampire’s girlfriend to get to him.”

Godric smirked. “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Hmm. Maybe that’s a little silly. We’re both way too old for that. There’s no way you’re anyone’s boyfriend. That just sounds off.”

He laughed. “Paramour? Special friend?”

“You’re a gentleman caller and I’m his mistress?” she suggested and found herself swept up in his arms.

“Mmm, my mistress, huh? I like the sound of that. You are already definitely my lover,” he said heatedly and pressed her back into the bed, covering her up. His desire was already stirring again and Rosalyn felt the same heat rising in her too. His hand slipped under the sheets to cup her damp sex. “You are still so full of me,” he said, his voice husky.

“Mmhmm.”

“It will heal you, but if you feel any discomfort when you wake, any at all, please tell me. Wake me up with the alarm if you like. I will take care of you.” He wanted to say more, but he does not want to sound overbearing.

“Discomfort? Just the sound of your voice and the touch of your hand is getting me riled up again. You had better scram if you want some shut eye, mister. I might just try to convince you to go another round and from the sound of it you’re way overdue for your beauty rest.”

He laughed into her neck, inhaling deeply, committing the scent of her blood and his mark and their sex to his eternal memory. Firsts were truly rare for him and it pained him to let the day claim him.

The velvet of his skin under her fingers felt magnetic and she too was loath to let him go. “This evening has been magic, Godric. Thank you.”

“The magic has all been your spell. It is you who deserves thanks.” He kissed her once, then twice for good measure. “Know that I do not part from you so easily.” He paused for a moment, remembering an old quotation. “‘I don’t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine’.” Rosalyn blushed at his romanticism. “I may be up by the time you awake. Think of what you would like to do tomorrow evening. My nights are yours.”

“Alright, handsome. Go tuck yourself into bed and have sweet dreams.”

Godric smiled. “Until tomorrow, Rosalyn.”

Chapter Text

Downstairs in the underground chamber, Godric was astonished to find that Eric had actually put himself to sleep in the travel coffin as he was told. He had even gone so far as to shut the lid. Godric fully expected to find his child defiantly sprawled out in some unworkable position in his king size bed. Eric had always been a notorious bed thief and he was blessed with an uncanny ability to hog every square inch available with his long limbs. Instead, not a single pillow or blanket had been pillaged in the service of his comfort. He must be truly feeling repentant. Godric was thankful that he did not have to heave his child into the coffin himself at this late hour. He crawled under the covers and let the pull of the sun wash over him.

The last thing he heard as he was drifting off was the sound of Rosalyn pacing the floor overhead between the master bedroom door and the antechamber door. At first, he thought she must be curious and that perhaps she was going to test whether her palm could open their door. (It could not.) But then he heard her softly counting to herself. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. She was counting how long it took to move between the doors. Clever woman, to plan how much time she might need to trick an invader and trip the alarm. The thought of how seriously she was taking the responsibility of having access to his security system pleased him immensely. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep with a smile on his face.

When he woke, he could hear the soft thudding of her heartbeat. There was a rustle of a page being turned. Then another. Curious, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed upstairs.

“I missed you rising,” he lamented. She was cross-legged in the bed among a tangle of sheets, hovering over a book. There were several volumes scattered about her. “What are we reading?” he asked, as if he did not already know exactly which books she had pulled from his library.

“Rumi. I had hoped your little bedtime quote was a clue about where I might find your flower.”

“And?”

“No such luck.”

“Darn,” he said.

“But good fun to thumb through.”

“I see you’ve located the editions in Persian too.”

“Yep. I cheated with Google, but I hope you appreciate how hard it was for me to locate his name in a different script. How many languages do you even speak?”

“I’ve stopped using many more than I actively remember, if that gives you any sense.”

“Impressive.”

Godric shrugged. “I’ve never really tried very hard with Japanese, since Eric speaks it impeccably. I really should work on it one of these days.”

Rosalyn reached across the bed and lifted a volume. “I also found this.” She passed the book to him. It was his 18th century folio of the Kama Sutra.

“Hmm. Anything strike your fancy?”

“The images are beautiful. Most of those positions would probably snap me, but I figured you might know a few worth trying.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I take it you’re not sore today.”

“Nope,” she said gleefully.

“Well then. Have you eaten? We can go out if you like. I can show you Dallas.”

“I think I’d rather stay in, if you don’t mind. I’m fairly certain I’ve found Dallas’ main attraction. He’s standing right here.” She laid back, her hair cascading all about her, arms spread wide. Rosalyn pulled down one strap of her negligee, then the other, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Well alright, mistress. I see how it is,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously.

~OOO~

Godric had Rosalyn balanced in his lap and he worked his hips in small, slow circles. He exhaled as she inhaled. She gasped and he breathed, their chests locked into a tantric rhythm. He groaned out loud when she bit him and he said “Harder, please.” She clenched down on him and dug her blunt teeth into his neck and he moaned when she did as he requested. The scrape of her nails across his back and the pinch in his neck made his nipples tense and his body swell. “More,” he managed to say and she bit with force. He cried out loud and pleasure overtook him. She felt him pulsing between her legs and she bit his throat again where his Adam’s apple bobbed. She thrust against him, hungry for the orgasm that lay at the base of his thick cock. The soft, grunting moans he gave urged her on and she pumped her heat over him again and again, throwing her head back in ecstasy, riding his hard body into oblivion.

Amidst their fevered coupling, the antechamber deadbolts slid open and a mussy haired Eric walked out. Rosalyn squealed in surprise and covered her breasts, having completely forgotten that Eric was asleep downstairs. He lumbered by them towards the bathroom, then stopped, and walked back to the bed. “You’re doing that wrong. Sit on your heels, Godric.” Eric reached behind his maker and twisted the ankle he had folded underneath him so that he was perched on the ball of his foot and resting on his heel. Eric leaned over to check the angle where their bodies meet.

“For Christ’s sake, Eric!” She covered her crotch. While Rosalyn was perfectly comfortable with her body and happy in the nude, it did not mean she wanted to give Eric a show.

“Leave the young god out of this,” he said. “Roll your hips forward a little, Ros?” She was frozen stock still. “Seriously. Tilt your hips forward but keep your back straight, as it is. You’ll see.” He tapped the book beside them to punctuate his point and wandered off into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower.

Godric gave her an encouraging look and Rosalyn did as Eric suggested. She audibly gasped at the result. Godric pulled out of her slowly and thrust and they both cried out. Within a few minutes, they were making a full-on racket composed mostly of “yes!” and “oh god!” Eric was chuckling at the two until they exploded in pleasure, at which point Godric unleashed the full force of his maker’s bond at him. There was a loud clanging crash from the bathroom. Eric had collapsed against the glass shower enclosure, dropping yet again from the crippling wave of power that his maker had directed at him.

“Dammit Godric!” he yelled from the tile floor where he was incapacitated. Ros was far too lost to even notice.

When Eric emerged from the bathroom, he found the two lovers cuddled underneath the covers, whispering. He slipped out silently, letting them be. The sound of Godric’s soft laughter ringing through the halls of the home was music to his ears, a melody he had missed for far too long. Being stuck on watchdog duty without a donor to help soothe his aching fangs and body completely sucked, but it was an inconsequential price to pay for Godric’s happiness. Eric was more than willing to endure it as the trifling cost of his meddling.

In the study, Eric first contacted Isabelle to touch base. All seemed quiet in the city. She forwarded a few more hearings that would have to be scheduled when the nest reopened and she went over the basic details so Godric could be adequately updated.

Eric then called Pamela and learned that Amleth had taken a shining to his little faeling charge. The Stackhouse woman was apparently giving him the run around. Sookie refused to admit Amleth into her home, yet she answered the door each night in heels and pearls and push-up bras. Eric conceded that perhaps his maker was correct in warning him off of her. He was glad it was not him being toyed with and rebuffed. Amleth might be entertained by it for a little while, but personally Eric never found such feigned affectations of coyness attractive in women. He liked his women smart, frank, and full of fight. Ergo, Pamela.

Pam also confessed that she and Amleth had already managed to plow through all the Royalty Blended in the house. “No, Pam, you may not order another case. Drink the True Blood that’s down in storage or eat a customer.” Pamela protested. “Either way, you’re not spending another dime until I can fix our liquid asset situation! Did you miss the part where your grandsire told you to keep your head down and do your work? If he even gets wind that you two are messing around he’s going to bury you alive and I’m going to let him. Capiche?”

“Fine,” she grumbled.

Eric hung up and turned to the pile of paperwork on Godric’s desk. He would distract himself with busy work since he had been asked not to leave the estate. Godric needed him here so that he could let his guard completely down.

~OOO~

Godric rested his head on Rosalyn’s chest, letting the thrum of her heartbeat wash through him. She combed her fingers through his hair in rhythmic circles and he purred in tune with her breathing. Their fingers were twined together, as were their legs – a braid of flesh, at once cool and warm. “I am left-handed,” he said out of the blue.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I’m right-handed.”

Godric snuffed a laugh into her collarbone, amused by his own secret. “It is a very rare trait in a vampire. Back in those days, young children were killed for such a thing or else quickly learned to adapt with their right. Almost certainly no maker would have turned someone with what was then seen to be such a defect.”

“The ‘sinister’ hand?” she guessed.

“Yes.”

“How silly.” She lifted the offending hand to her mouth and nuzzled it, placing a string of kisses down the backside of his fingers and palm.

“Perhaps it is silly. I’ve found it very useful.”

“How so?”

Godric looked up at her. “I heard you practicing how to move between the two security doors.”

Ros bit her lip. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“But you didn’t try to unlock the antechamber door. You didn’t even touch the panel.”

“No,” she said. “Why would I?”

“Because it’s a perfectly normal, human thing to do. Yet you trusted me when I told you it wouldn’t work and you took what responsibility I gave you very seriously.”

“Of course.”

“Then it is important that you know I’m left-handed. I’ve hidden this minor preference for my left hand for centuries. Eric knows. Pam knows. Now you know.”

“Alright. Thank you for telling me.” She pressed a kiss into his mouth.

An impish smile spread across his features. There was something positively delicious about telling this woman his secrets. “Oh my Rosalyn, what is it about you? You are so intriguing.” She laughed, not sure what had inspired his whimsy. Godric reflected for a long moment. “You are thoroughly uninterested in status, power, money. Men like Eric and Amleth, for all their impossible beauty and wealth, will never deceive you with their charm or their flash. There’s nothing about my age or position that even remotely attracts you, is there? You didn’t even blink when I spoke of it. Instead you pitied me, seeing it for the burden it is.” She shrugged. He was not wrong. “Why did you speak with me that night in the desert? Why did you choose me?”

“I don’t know. Because I saw you and I knew we weren’t seeing the same thing. I thought it was a beautiful event. All those people from different places and times, human and non-human, everyone dancing and celebrating life. I wanted to celebrate it with you. I didn’t know why you were missing out.”

“And we did celebrate life, didn’t we? In our own way.”

“It was far better than the party.”

“Yes. Far, far better.” Godric sighed contentedly.

“Godric?”

“Hnn…”

“That night – I thought maybe I only would get to have that moment once in a lifetime and I didn’t want to ruin it by forcing something more. I wanted to be content with what it was.”

“And I thought I didn’t deserve it. Not one second of it.”

“Oh but you do!” She rolled on top of him, caging him in with her elbows. “You deserve so much.”

“What about you? You want for nothing, yet you have some of the most powerful creatures on the planet ready to give you the moon upon a stick if you so demanded it. That is a unique quality indeed. No wonder Eric couldn’t figure you out. I show you some of the rarest supernatural abilities on the planet and you dismiss them as parlor tricks. Not even your thirst for knowledge makes you hungry; you’d never even consider ripping the wings from a butterfly to better know its nature. You are happy to let it flutter past you and ponder its mystery. Your awe, your fascination…it is so pure. You give and give with no expectation for anything in return. I just gave you the key to my kingdom and you replied with a kiss.”

She frowned. “I’m not sure I follow, sweetheart.”

Godric chuckled at the moniker. He was fairly certain no one had ever thought his heart was ‘sweet’. He held up his hand. “It’s the key to unlocking the security system – to many of my security systems, in fact. If the alarm is tripped, I scan my left hand.”

“Huh. That’s so…simple.”

“Exactly. Plus, it is fast. The long keycode I entered before was just for show. Complexity doesn’t necessarily mean greater difficulty. In crisis, the first thing that people overlook is the most obvious.”

She smiled and released her light hold on him. “You’re wrong that I don’t have wants and desires.”

“Ah, sure. Perhaps I spoke too hastily. I am becoming acquainted with your desires, lover, rather intimately, I should say.” He reached down and gave her rounded backside a firm squeeze and pulled her even closer against him. “As for your wants, they are grand indeed – nothing short of peace and acceptance world-round. It is a beautiful vision and I will help you to the best of my ability. I hope for it as well.”

“Thank you.” Her hazel gaze pierced him with its palimpsest of color. Godric tensed, sensing she wanted to say something more. “You forgot the most important thing.”

“Yes?”

“I want you.”

He did not know how to respond, so he said nothing at all. Instead, he showed her. He showed her how much it meant to be wanted for who he was rather than what he could do, for more than what someone could get out of him. Godric’s hips found their way between Rosalyn’s legs and he made love to her again, this time even more slowly and passionately than before.

~OOO~

Saturday became Sunday and soon Sunday turned into Monday night. They fell into a pattern, pleasuring each other, hunting through the books in his library, and getting into deep discussions sitting around the kitchen island as Rosalyn took her meals. All the while, Eric remained close at hand.

Ros was listening to Godric recount a tale about his first visit to Egypt while she ate a bowl of tofu pad Thai. He was lost in the details and she was enraptured by his vivid storytelling. Eric happened to glance up from the crossword puzzle he had folded in thirds on one knee and was caught off guard. Gone was the pallid ancient who had grown so weary of the world. Instead, he saw once more the animated, pink-cheeked young man that had turned him so long ago. In two nights Rosalyn had accomplished what Eric could not in two centuries. Godric whipped his head around when he felt a sudden rush of joy and love flood across their bond.

“What?” he asked his child. Eric shook his head and penciled in the answer for 41-down.

The couple’s obvious happiness kept Eric silent about the phone call he had received from Amleth. “Have you actually ever been to Bon Temps, mate?” his raven-haired friend asked him the previous night.

“Only a handful of times. Why?”

“The place is crawling with supes. Werewolves have recently passed through the cemetery near Hummingbird Road and Sookie’s place of employment is run by a shifter.”

“I know Merlotte. He’s standoffish, but not a concern.”

“Well, then would you like to explain to me why there is a small but slightly open fairy porthole in the forest behind Sookie’s house? You know I can barely sense these things, but I’m quite certain it’s there.”

“Fuck,” Eric said.

“And do you think Niall could be bothered to respond to my messages?”

“Of course not.”

“I can’t drag this out much longer, Eric. I’ve got to get back to London.”

“Alright, update me as soon as you know more.”

It was a worrisome development. Eric did not share he and Isabelle’s discussions either. They both agreed that Dallas had grown a little too quiet the last few days. When Rosalyn finally suggested they go out, Eric was apprehensive, to say the least.

“I’m craving ice cream and a little fresh air. Can we go into the city?” she said. Godric was quick to agree. She had made so few demands of him since she had arrived that he jumped at the opportunity.

Downtown they found an old-fashioned candy store that sold ice cream cones heaped with every possible flavor. Eric loomed over the couple protectively, hands folded behind his back, scanning for trouble. Rosalyn ordered mint chocolate and splurged with two large scoops. While she waited in line, Godric walked the aisle of the store and examined the rows of acrylic bins offering every sort of candy imaginable.

Out on the street, they went for a stroll. “I sometimes wish I hadn’t missed out on sugar,” he said.

Rosalyn struggled to keep the cone from melting all over her hand. “It’s probably for the best, no? You and Eric have all your teeth.”

Godric laughed and caught a green drip before it oozed down her wrist. He fed it back to his companion. A flash of light suddenly blinded them. Eric was a blur of action and before Ros could react, he had tackled the offender in a single leap and a smash. Spread out into hundreds of shards were the remains of the man’s camera. Even as Eric released the poor fool, he heard the telltale beep of two more cameras taking exposures from across the street. “Fucking paparazzi. Can we please go now? We’re going to be all over Page Six tomorrow,” he said.

They beat a hasty retreat. Eric drove them at extraordinary speeds. At the guard house outside the mansion, Eric had a long conversation with Caleb to confirm nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He had him switch up a few of the planned guard rotations, just to be sure.

In the living room, Godric stopped Eric with a hand to his chest. “Explain.” His child gave him a sharp look. “I know,” Godric said, letting out a tense breath. “I’ll re-open the nest tomorrow.” Eric glanced at Rosalyn. Godric nodded in understanding. “I’ll speak with her too. Can you notify Isabelle? And then let’s go over the schedule.”

Chapter Text

With the paparazzi fiasco, Godric’s hand had been forced. He had to reopen his nest. Cases were awaiting adjudication. To leave pending cases unaddressed now would look sloppy, at best. Viewed more conservatively, it read as downright negligent. He had to face the inevitable avalanche of questions. Why was a 2000 year old Sheriff out cavorting in a candy shop with a human – licking ice cream off of him in public, no less – while the good citizens of Area Nine were barred from their commons and made to wait? Who was this mortal woman who had seemingly been granted precedence over a maker’s request or an appeal to relocate?

While Godric greeted the suspicions and rumors of his people, Rosalyn was banished to the bedroom with one very testy Viking as her bodyguard. Eric scanned one newspaper after another. There must be no less than two dozen at his feet. All were splashed with sensational headlines and images of his maker and human companion giggling and smooching in each other’s company. His maker did not ‘giggle’ – especially not in full-color, front page articles. With every paper he tossed down, his mood grew worse.

Beauty and the Beast: Can mystery woman tame Dallas’ most notorious vamp?

America’s Most Powerful Vamp Mainstreaming!

Vampire Assault in Dallas Streets: Photographer in ER

“Bullshit,” Eric muttered to himself.

Rosalyn, meanwhile, ignored his grumbling. She took the opportunity to look more closely at the music collection in Godric’s room. It was vast and incoherently ordered, just like his library. Selecting a record at random, she set it on the turntable and listened to the song for a moment. She jumped the needle to a different track, then to a third song, then she switched out the record for another. Much to Eric’s chagrin, she did it again. And again.

And again. “That is extremely annoying, Ros.”

“It’s an experiment. I’m trying to figure out what kind of music Godric likes.”

Ros slipped another record from its sleeve. There was no identifying label on it. It hissed under the needle, playing only a fuzzy silence. It must be faulty, she supposed. She moved to take it off when a tinny voice suddenly came on. The sound quality was warped and the accent oddly old fashioned and posh, but there was no mistaking the speaker: it was Eric, speaking out of time.

“Hello old chap. Happy un-birthday!”

In the background, Pam cut in. “Congrats gramps. You are still old as dirt - ”

“ - Can it! What we wished to say is that we regret that we cannot be with you to celebrate. Along with the phonograph you will find a selection of the finest tunes available. Keep up with the times, am I right? I am also sending some street sounds from New York which I have taken the trouble to record for you, including the new subway. This city is truly wild. I do wish you would reconsider -“

Eric’s large hand cut the album short. “It wasn’t labeled,” Ros said. She had not meant to stumble on something so personal.

Eric’s face was unreadable. “I thought he had lost those. They were wax cylinder recordings, you know. He must have transferred them when records became available.”

“That was - ”

“A century ago? Yes.”

Ros put the disc in its paper jacket with reverence and slid it back into its place on the shelf. Eric flicked a dismissive hand at the cabinet. “They are memories, mostly, from the last hundred years. The sounds are just mnemonics. They evoke a particular time or place.”

“Oh, wow. Like the soundtrack to a tiny portion of his life.” She rocked back onto her heels. “Tell me about New York back then.”

“It stunk of piss and factories, but the choice of blood was good.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing I care to share with you,” he said resolutely.

“Why don’t you pick an album and tell me about it. Please?” The tinge of desperation in her voice was not forced. She was anxious. It was one thing to meet Godric at a party in a nameless sea of faces. Tonight she was meeting his subjects – those whose obedience and respect his authority relied upon.

Eric refused. “These aren’t my stories to tell, little human, even if I did know what they meant to my maker.”

“Come on, Mr. Bad Attitude. If you’re going to be stuck babysitting me, you can at least try to distract us. You know as well as I do all we’re thinking about is how it’s going out there with Godric.”

“We could paint each other’s toenails and talk about our crushes,” he said.

“Oh, shut up. Surely you’ve got one decent memory worth sharing.”

“Nope. I’m drawing a blank.”

“You’re chicken,” she said. He was unimpressed. “You know what? You’re probably right. Let it be noted that Eric Northman’s life was a blur of blood and forgettable women.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed and he set his jaw. “Do not speak of my legacy so.”

She was not deterred by his unsettling stare. “Why should I not? You do.”

“Fine. I will tell you one story. One, Ros.” He folded his long legs up and hunted down the long row. He tugged a couple albums out and quickly rejected them until he hit upon one that suited him. He set the record in the player, but did not start it. “You do not repeat this.”

“Obviously,” she said.

“And you will apologize afterwards.”

“Yeah. We’ll see about that.”

“You will,” he said firmly. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “How is it supposed to go? Once upon a time, long before you were born?” Ros nodded, scooting closer to listen. “It was springtime in Paris. The year was 1849, just after the revolution. I’d wandered to the city alone. I had been alone for some time. An acquaintance invited me to attend the theatre. There was hype about some new type of lighting they were going to introduce – a spotlight that mimicked sunlight. I hate French opera, but out of curiosity, I decided to attend. Do you know Paris?”

“Not really. I’ve only been there once.”

“Well, back then, the national theatre was further north than where it is today. I had apartments near the river and it was an absolute nightmare to travel. Many of the streets were still barricaded from the summer before. Twice I considered telling the coach to turn around.”

“Couldn’t you just fly?”

“I could have, but it matters that I didn’t. So, I made it before the curtain call just in time. The opera turned out to be utter garbage. The music was overwrought nonsense, the scenes were too long, everyone was doused in cloying perfume, and the fancy light turned out to be nothing extraordinary. Just a spotlight, only a little brighter.”

“Wow, Eric. Really uplifting.”

“Was I finished? Stop interrupting.” Eric cleared his throat and placed the needle on the record. The haunting sounds of a Chopin nocturne filled the room. It was not one she recognized.

“Close your eyes,” he suggested. He paused, letting the soft music seep through them in ebbs and soaring flows. “Between acts I ditched the theatre and took to the streets by foot. In the distance someone was trying to play one of Chopin’s pieces. This one. Can you hear it?”

She imagined Eric in a top hat and opera cape. Light pattering raindrops clung to him. Around him the scene bled in watery colors of burnt umber and shadow. Gaslights reflected on the wet pavers in bleary streaks.

“The music was such a relief from the noise of that opera house. I let the sound direct my feet and I wondered if it was actually Chopin practicing. I’d heard him perform once, years before. If it was indeed him, he was in rough shape. The player stumbled on the long chord runs and flubbed several of the trills. Perhaps it was someone simply trying to learn it.”

“Was it him?” Ros said, breaking the daydream.

Eric smiled. “That’s just it. I don’t know. I never made it that far.”

“What happened?” she pressed, fully hooked.

Eric’s smile broadened, touching the corners of his eyes. “I met Pamela.” Ros bit her lip. “In a city where I didn’t belong, in a neighborhood I had no business being in. Walking when I could have flown. It was all chance and a little bit of Chopin that drew me down a particular road one night. But what a road it turned out to be.”

“Thank goodness for Chopin.”

“And terrible French opera.”

Ros gave a sheepish grin. “Don’t ever let go of that. The awe. The magic in your memory. It’s what Godric forgot.”

He ran a hand over Godric’s record collection, lost in thought. “Memories can just as easily be part of the problem, you know. It’s the living where you forget.”

“And it’s the forgetting that settles into both diamonds and rust.” He grunted in agreement. They both contemplated the idea in silence. “I’m sorry I teased you, Blondie.”

“It is forgiven.”

She booped his nose. “Careful now. Your human side is showing.”

He was about to say something more when a shiver trailed down his spine.

“He’s ready for us so soon?” she said.

“You’ll do fine.” He helped pull her to her feet. “We’ll be right there at your side.”

As they unlocked the secure door, she stopped him. “Thank you, Eric.” She gave his hand a squeeze. He dipped his head, knowing exactly how she felt.

“Sure you don’t want me to glamour you for courage?”

“Hell no. Just stick with me, you big dork.”

~OOO~

The din in the large meeting room grew quiet when Eric entered. Trailing behind him was a solidly built human clad in pleated culottes and a linen top. In the delicate curve of her neck, a blood mark unlike any other shimmered and thrummed in tune to her pulse. As she turned, it was plain to see she bore a pair – deep wells of ancient blood embracing the arteries on either side of her throat. Godric had given her the second only hours ago after he woke. Several vampires crossed themselves automatically. Unsure of proper protocol, a few bowed as she passed. Everyone, absolutely everyone, stared. Godric stood and drew Rosalyn to his side.

“Good people, I know you have many questions about this young woman. This is Dr. Rosalyn Murray. She is a loyal friend to our kind and more importantly, a loyal friend to me.”

“Smells like more than that!” someone snickered.

“I expect her to be treated with the same respect you would offer myself or Isabelle. In this area, you are to address her as Dr. Murray or Madame.”

There were shouts. Godric had anticipated the outburst and already had a hand up to silence them.

“Sheriff, no offense, but are you fuckin’ with us?”

Godric’s eyes found the tall cowboy leaning against the wall. “No, Stan. This is my order.”

“But she’s a pet,” he sneered. “You really expect us to act like she’s a member of the nest?”

“She is a person, first and foremost. From this night forward, the term ‘pet’ is banned in Area Nine. Ownership of humans is forbidden. Isabelle is circulating the edict. Read it carefully. Any of you in disagreement with its terms are welcome to leave, or else face the penalties.”

A hand raised in the midst of the group. Isabelle acknowledged the subject. “Yes, Mable?”

“I understand these are your wishes, Sheriff. But how are we to refer to Madame Rosalyn? If you are not claiming her, what…what is she, you know, to you?”

The anticipation was palpable. “For the time being, you may think of her as my intended.” The declaration was met with another outburst of commotion. Rosalyn whipped her head. Her mouth hung open. This was not what they had discussed.

“I think I speak for many of us when I say we aren’t sure what that means,” Mable said.

“My intentions are my own business, underling. Now unless there is anything else, this meeting is adjourned.”

With that, the room burst into conversation. Three attendees got up and left – seemingly for good. Their copies of the paper flyer with the Sheriff’s new rules lay crumpled on the ground.

Godric tooks his seat once more. “What are you doing? Why did you say that?” Ros whispered harshly.

He smiled gently. “We will discuss this later. Let us receive our guests in the meantime.” The receiving line was already taking shape in front of them. A stream of vampires offered congratulations and thanks – some even sounded heartfelt.

At the back of the crowd, someone started clapping. It was a slow clap. A clap meant to taunt. Eric shot to his feet to search out the offender.

“Very, very impressive,” a voice remarked.

“Flannigan,” Eric hissed.

Godric reached over and placed a protective hand on Rosalyn’s knee. When he saw who followed in her wake, a growl ripped from his throat. “You come unannounced to my home with that creature in tow?” The demon Derek Ronwe smiled at the insult. Vampires leaned away from him in disgust as he sauntered by.

Godric and Eric formed a wall of muscle to shield Rosalyn. “You are not on our guest list, Ms. Flannigan, nor Mr. Ronwe,” Isabelle said calmly. “The Sheriff would be happy to accommodate you if you’ll just make an appointment - ”

“Pfffft. I don’t need an appointment,” she scoffed. Her heels clacked impertinently on the tile.

“Everyone needs an appointment. Even you, sweetcakes,” Eric said.

“I’m on tv, Northman.” She looked at him appraisingly. “And you two idiots are all over the news. Roman sent me. Where can we talk in private?”

Eric and Godric glanced at each other. “Escort Ros back to my chambers,” Godric ordered.

“I don’t have all night, boys. You think you’re the only ones on my shit list for the evening? Now means now. Let’s go.”

Godric guided Rosalyn toward Isabelle, shaking his head in dismay.

“Come, Dr. Murray.” Isabelle tried to escort Rosalyn out.

She held her ground. “I’ve just been introduced to these fine people. I’m not going to be stowed away like some poor relation. I dare say Godric believes in his subjects; he knows they are trustworthy. We’re here to meet each other, are we not?” She gave a pointed look at Isabelle and then turned eagerly to the crowd of residents. The vampiress allowed her a little space, though not without trepidation.

A woman with a victory roll hairdo came forward and gave her an awkward handshake, as if she was out of practice. “Name is Mable. I’m real pleased to make your acquaintance. About time something interesting happened in this town.” She laughed nervously.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mable. I’m Ros. How long have you lived in Area Nine?”

“Seventy-four years. Can you believe it?”

“You don’t think anything interesting has happened in nearly eight decades?”

“Nah, well…nothing ’cept for the dying. That was different!” She gave a hearty laugh that was contagious. Other vampires saw Rosalyn and Mable chatting like old neighbors and, following Mable’s good example, introduced themselves. A group gathered around the human.

How did Dr. Murray like Dallas? What did she think about the Great Reveal? Did she know about the new school for vampires? Would she vote for a Vampire-American president?

Their questions were all so ordinary. They were as naturally curious about her as she was about them. Even Isabelle relaxed slightly. Someone put on some music and the tension of the house resolved itself into a pleasant, cocktail hour mood. A drink sounded quite nice to Rosalyn. Many of the other guests already had martini glasses filled with warm blood.

“Excuse me, just for a moment.” Ros escaped to the kitchen while Isabelle was distracted in conversation. She grabbed her special striped glass from the human cupboard and was confronted with a wiry body.

“Hello Rosalyn.”

“Derek,” she said.

“You don’t sound happy to see me.”

“I’m not.”

“You stopped returning my calls. That hurt my feelings.” His fake frown was more of a grimace. Rosalyn eyed the alarm pad on the wall beside Ronwe. It was too far to hit the panic button without diving past him. “Don’t take it personally,” she said. “It wasn’t about you.” She tried to open a bottle of wine, but her hands were shaky.

Ronwe took the bottle from her. “Allow me.” He poured a long drink, twisting the bottle with a flourish at the end. “For someone who seems so intent on meddling in our politics, you aren’t very savvy.”

“I’m catching up,” she said.

“I thought we had a deal.” His breath was hot in her face.

“I didn’t agree to anything and you know it. Nothing.”

“Maybe not, but you sold the school idea out from under us and my master is pissed. You ponied up with the wrong team!” He grabbed her wrist. His grip was boiling hot. Rosalyn screamed and chucked the wine in his face.

In a fraction of a second, Godric was at her side. He had smashed through not one, but two doors. Her glass was still spinning in the air as he arrived. It shattered on the floor before his feet. The smell of charred flesh and the sound of Rosalyn’s terror was all he needed to know. “You dare trespass the peace in my home.” He stalked forward. The glass shards crunched under his shoes. “You dare assault this woman.”

The demon cowered. “It was an accident!” he sputtered through the wine dripping out of his hair.

Rosalyn was patently aware of the staring audience gathered behind them. Godric lifted Rosalyn’s hand by two fingers and displayed the scald on her wrist. “You. Dare.”

“Roman…Roman wants the girl!”

A ferocious growl tore from Godric’s chest. “You are as good as dead,” he declared.

The demon swore and made a break for it. He tried to crash through the bystanders, but he had miscalculated the loyalty of Godric’s retinue. They wrestled him to the ground in seconds. “God dammit, Derek!” Nan cursed when she saw the mess he had made. “This was supposed to be a courtesy call, not a national fucking disaster! Godric - ”

“Silence,” Godric ordered. He could not tear his eyes from the welt in Rosalyn’s skin.

“You’re fucked,” Eric whispered into Nan’s ear. He could not resist gloating.

“I did not think it necessary to state the obvious,” Godric said. “But it appears some of you are unwilling to read between the lines.” He pointed to the marks in Rosalyn’s neck. “An injury against this woman is a blood offense against my House and Line. We will seek justice without mercy.”

Nan rolled her eyes. “Quit with the theatrics, Sheriff. It’s a scratch. A little blood and she’s good as new.”

Godric turned his glare on her. “Run.”

“Oh please…” she scoffed.

“I said run. Run while you still can.”

Suddenly the gravity of the situation dawned on Nan Flannigan. She sucked in a ragged breath and took a shambling step backwards, bumping past Eric. Eric and Godric growled in unison at her and she fled, clickety clacking out of the nest as fast as her legs could carry her. “Start the car! Start the car!” she screamed down the driveway.

Eric sucked at his cheek. “Well. That went well.”

Chapter Text

“You!” Godric snapped at Stan. “Secure Ronwe downstairs. Isabelle! Get Caleb in my office. Everyone else – as you were.”

He scooped Rosalyn in his arms and rushed down the hallway. In the donor bathroom, he set her on the vanity counter and Eric crammed in behind his maker to assist the triage, grabbing handfuls of medical supplies off the wall. When Godric touched an antiseptic pad to her scalded wrist, she bit back an anguished cry.

“You’re going to be okay, Ros,” Eric said.

She blew at the wound through shaky lips. The cool air was soothing. “Don’t,” Godric ordered. He worked quickly, daubing at the seeping edges of the burn.

“You’re blowing bacteria in it,” Eric explained for his maker. She laughed nervously. It was easier than giving in to the pain. Godric chucked the gauze into a bin and ripped another open with his teeth.

“Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it,” she said.

Godric pressed the bandage into the wound and, knowing what was about to come, pulled her by the back of her head into his chest. She let out a long wailing scream into the flat of his belly, unable to keep the agony inside. Eric passed him another pad and he squeezed it is against her wrist again, soaking up the poisoned fluid. The death grip she had on his bicep tightened. He stroked the crown of her hair while she sobbed in heaving, jagged gasps. His reflection in the mirror was expressionless. Deadly.

Peeling back the white gauze, he inspected state of the burn. The oozing had almost stopped.

“Nearly there, Ros,” Eric told her. “It’s already looking a lot better.” She gave a snotty nod against Godric’s shirt. Swiping another fresh bandage off the counter, he hitched her up around his hips with a single arm and carried her to his bedroom.

The cool of the bedsheets and the down of the comforter were a relief beneath Ros. Godric sat silently beside her while Eric hovered, hands on his hips. They waited for the pain to subside slightly and it did, a little. Or perhaps she was growing used to the ice-hot throbbing inside her wrist bones.

Ros snuffled back the flood in her nose and eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left Isabelle.” She pulled at his grey button-down shirt, dismayed at the wet smears she had left on it. It looked too expensive to go in the washer. Godric did not so much as blink at her words. The thin, clenched line of his mouth scared her. “Can you heal it? You promised,” she said.

His eyes flicked up to her neck. “It is a demon scald. It will not heal fully from the outside. Even if I did…” His voice trailed off.

“Godric doesn’t want his blood on the scar of another,” Eric said quietly. “It…it is ugly.”

“It is an abomination,” Godric hissed. He let out a deep breath of air and began to unbutton his shirt. “Get out,” he ordered. Eric smiled - an odd reaction, given the circumstances. He coded out of the room without comment. Godric slid to a stand, pulled off his socks, and unfastened his pants. He crawled back into bed nude and searched for the zipper on Ros’ culottes.

“What are you doing?” she said. He dragged them off her, panties and all. “Now? You’re not serious!” He responded by tugging her shirt off and tossing it to the floor. “Godric, I – “

He silenced her with a kiss. “This,” he held up the offending arm. “This is unacceptable.” He shook his head in disgust and inhaled again, trying to calm down. He pressed a kiss into her hand and held the kissed skin against his face. “This should never have happened.”

“Well, it did so…”

“It did and I will right this injustice.” His fingertips ghosted over the large wells of blood he placed in her neck. “You do not understand the promise I made you. The lengths I would go to. What I will do…” His fingers wandered over her heart. He splayed them there where he could feel the rapid beat of her life in his palm. “I love you, Rosalyn.” The heart in his hand skipped a beat, then galloped. “I love you and I have already given you my blood and my oath. You need only accept it.”

Her mouth hung open. There were too many words for her lips and Godric saw each one of them poised there. He nuzzled and licked them away, drawing out a lusty moan instead.

Ros’ eyes found his and searching, she told him. “I love you too. How can I love you so much? So fast?”

Godric smiled. “I’ve wondered the same thing.” He caught the tear in her eye with a thumb.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in the desert, looking up at the rocks and the sky. I saw you. And I knew. There is no point in pretending otherwise.”

“You see through me like no other. I am disarmed and bare before you.”

“Very bare,” she managed to joke and stroked down his serpentine back to squeeze his bum.

There was so much more to confess. But there would be time for those secrets. For now, they simply kissed in amazement, surprised and relieved to find themselves in love.

“Let me heal you completely,” he said. Rosalyn agreed. “That is my preference, but I will respect your wishes. You still have a choice.”

“A blood bond?” He nodded gravely. “Will you be mine, Godric?” she asked and something dark and forbidden danced in his eyes.

“Yes,” he said forcefully.

Godric bit hard into his own wrist and clenched his fist. Thick rivulets of ancient blood streaked down his forearm. The droplets fell in heavy splashes down his chest and over his hard cock. He guided the spatters in a crimson trail over Ros’ belly, along her breastbone, shepherding them finally into her expectant mouth. Her tongue met the broken skin and when it slid along the punctures, Godric fell into her, pressing his body deep into hers. He toppled headfirst, his canines finding their place in her neck, crushing the blood he stored there straight into her nervous system.

She drank and he sucked and as he sucked he drew his blood through her and back into the hollow of his open, thirsting soul. His wrist healed too quickly and he slashed his tongue to feed her a hasty kiss. Ros found the source and what she tasted of Godric there was the taste of unending time. She writhed and thrusted beneath his attentions, all reason unfixed by the raw bestial power in his veins. The pleasure was nothing short of rapture. He roared and she dug her nails into his flesh and they each begged the other for more.

~OOO~

Rosalyn’s hazel eyes were lost in Godric’s sagebrush blues. They had been staring at each other for well over an hour, speechless. Questions rose and fell in her slow breathing.

“Can you feel me?” she wondered.

“Yes. Here.” He placed a hand over his chest and closed his eyes. He looked impossibly virile and young. His cheeks were flushed and his lips had turned a dusky pink.

“What does it feel like?”

Godric searched for a long minute. “Like you found the brightest star in the sky and hung it inside my heart.”

“Don’t ever let the light out.”

“Never,” he said, caressing her face. Rosalyn was even more radiant, though it seemed impossible somehow. “What is it like for you?”

She laughed. The sensation was so immense. “I couldn’t possibly contain it in words.”

“Try. For me.”

“I suppose that I glimpsed what the immortals know. I heard time, smelled eternity. I felt its vastness expanding outwards from my skin. I saw what it is to be you.”

“All that just from my blood?”

“You didn’t tell me it would taste like ambrosia,” she chastised. “It isn’t really blood, is it.”

He gave a secretive smile. “No.”

Ros remembered the unsealed bite at her neck. She touched a fingertip to it and offered it to her lover. He took the finger and dragged it over the spot where he felt her. He drew out a funny, lopsided ‘R.’ Then he sucked her fingertip with a greedy pop.

“A rune?” she said.

“‘R’ for Rosalyn. I am yours.”

She brushed her hair off her chest. “I want one. I am yours now too.” Godric pricked his own finger on a fang and drew an X over her heart. “‘X’ marks the spot!” she said.

“It’s a G, actually.” An odd thought struck him.

“What?” she said.

“The R-rune stands for a journey or adventure,” he said slowly.

“What does yours mean?”

His brow furrowed and he tried to suppress an embarrassed smile. “The ‘G’ is a gift.”

Ros gave him a knowing look. “Of course it is.”

He rested his head next to hers and stroked the soft skin of her breast. “I have often wondered what I could possibly give you.”

“I wanted all of you. And now you are mine.”

He bit his lip. It felt so good he could burst. “And you are mine.”

“Is this what you meant when you called me your ‘intended’?”

“Actually, I just thought it sounded clever. Better than my ‘significant other’!” She pinched him and they both laughed.

Her hand wandered over the smears of dried blood on him. She had just as many on herself. “We’re filthy. We should shower.”

Godric sat up on a propped elbow and rubbed the flaking bits between his fingers. “We can see this, you know, even after you wash. It wears off much faster than a healed bite, but…we see it. And if we don’t see it, we still smell it.”

“Uh oh. You’ve got that mischievous look in your eye.”

His lips were parted and his pupils had blown wide. The stray thought developed into a plan. “Would you do something for me?”

“Is it more kinky vampire stuff?”

“It is definitely more kinky vampire stuff.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the bathroom.

“Shower?” she said.

“No, my Rosalyn. Not a shower. You are not nearly filthy enough,” he said. The glass stall door shut with a foreboding thud. He stalked towards her until the tile slapped cold against her back. “Are you mine?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Yes.” She gasped at the impossibly strong arms that pinned her in place.

“I am yours?” he said.

“All mine.” She growled into his mouth and the possessive sound went straight to his groin.

“Let us show everyone what I am willing to do for you. Let us make them tremble at the power of our love.” Rosalyn was already trembling at the skillful fingers between her legs.

When he was done, Godric stepped back to admire his craftwork. He could barely stand his state of arousal. Rosalyn was saturated with his scent and flushed with the pleasure he had given her. “You are, without a doubt, the sexiest woman I have ever seen,” he gasped. He had to brace himself against the wall to remain upright, so disoriented was he by his own lust and how her own heat echoed back at him through their bond.

He had painted her, head to toe, in his own magic blood. Rosalyn had been so spun up by his nipping teeth and talented tongue that she had not been aware of what he was doing with his roving hands until he was halfway finished. If she worried at first that it might harm him, she saw now it had had quite the opposite effect. “You alright there?”

“No.” He swallowed. “I’ll never be right again.…I…Can I take your picture? No, I’m sorry, of course not. That’s - ”

“- fine.”

“Really? It is?” His eyes lit up.

“Sure.”

He was gone and back in a flash and was still apologizing, even as he photographed her nude body. Ros posed for him against the tile. She felt beautiful, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. “Oh, my muse – truly – thank you. You have no idea how much you please me.”

He turned the spigott of the large showerhead on and they took turns bathing each other, delighting in the feel of their soapy bellies rubbing together and the tickling drip of suds down their backs.

~OOO~

Only at dusk the next night did Eric dare to knock lightly on the bedroom door.

“What, child?” Godric griped from underneath the covers.

“Your chief of security has been in the dog house for more than twelve hours.”

Godric groaned. “Then he ought to have had adequate time to think.”

“Do you want me to take him out for a walk or what?” Eric said

Ros stirred at his side and squeaked sleepily. Godric kissed the top of her head and she opened her eyes. “Duty calls, my heart.”

“You slept with me,” she realized.

“I couldn’t leave you up here by yourself. Who would keep me warm?” he chuckled.

Begrudgingly, they rolled out of bed to get dressed. Ros hunted down the crumpled clothes she had worn the night before. Her hair was beyond hope, so she twisted it into a pile on her head. Godric was much faster and waited for her to finish. He used the free moment to review the photographs on his digital camera. They were exquisite, including the ones she took of him. The last picture they had taken together was what she had called ‘a selfie’ shot. They were a beautiful couple.

The beauty, however, lacked something. The image was static. Flat. It was already a memory, lost to time. The longer he admired it, the more unsettled he felt. He put the camera back in the nightstand. He needed to be absolutely focused for what awaited him on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Ready?” she said.

Godric closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he was the Sheriff of Area Nine. And the Sheriff was not a happy camper.

~OOO~

Eric was waiting for them at the end of the hallway. When his eyes landed on Rosalyn he gasped and dropped to one knee. Every inch of her exposed skin glowed with the ephemeral sheen of his maker’s ancient blood. The urge to submit before it was beyond his control.

“At ease, Blondie.” She patted him on the shoulder and he dropped his head further in submission.

“Stay with Eric, love.” Godric kissed her knuckles and strutted into his office, slamming the double doors behind him. Replacements for the doors he had smashed through the night before had already been hung. The wood was mismatched and raw, not yet stained to match the frame.

“What’s going to happen to Caleb?” she asked Eric. He shrugged, uninterested in Caleb Cash’s fate. Whatever Godric decided, it would be getting off lightly. The werewolves could not be held responsible for night time security. Few creatures were immune to a vampire’s glamour. They were going to need to reconsider their options very carefully.

“I brought you more food,” Eric said, changing the subject. Rosalyn followed him into the common area. As they rounded the corner in the entryway, they crossed paths with Isabelle.

“Madre de Dios!” she swore in terror when she glanced up at Rosalyn. The files she had been carrying in her arms went flying across the tile. Isabelle apologized profusely and shooed Rosalyn away when she tried to help scoop up the paperwork. Eric steered her toward the kitchen.

“Is it that frightening?” she asked in a blushing whisper.

Eric stared at her, wide-eyed and unblinking. He pulled away the hand she had shaded over half her face. “I do not see it like others will. But then, they do not know what we know about Godric, do they?” He examined her wrist. The silken skin was once again flawless. “Come, little breather, there’s a lot to show you.”

The kitchen counter was full of flower arrangements and packages. The gifts overflowed onto every available surface of the living room and into the den.

“What on earth is this?” she said.

“Tribute.”

“From who?”

“Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Mexico…”

“I don’t know anyone in any of those places!”

“These are from the vampires of those territories, Ros. Kings and queens and sheriffs. News travels fast. You have a lot of fans in our community. Here, this one is from Pam.” He handed her the most tasteful bouquet in the bunch. Of course it had to be from Pam.

“Where on earth did she get English roses this time of year?”

“Her greenhouse. It’s one of her own varieties. These are from her too. Pam was horrified to learn that you were using supermarket dishes.” He gestured to a stack of art deco bone china and antique crystal glassware. “I am supposed to relay that you are free to break them, but preferably by throwing them at me.”

“Awww. Tell her I’ll only break them if you go full ‘Thane of Misogyny,'” Ros promised. “Is Pam keeping Shreveport in line?”

“You know it.” Eric passed her an envelope. “This is one you should see too.”

She opened the thick, creamy paper and discovered a card with a delightfully demented vintage cartoon in black and white. The image depicted a demon creeping up on a woman in Victorian dress. Someone had drawn a red bullseye in marker over the demon’s face. Inside she found the words: Be well. –A.

A business card slid out and she caught it mid-air. Her reflexes were faster than usual. The card bore no information except an international number embossed in red ink. Rosalyn showed the baffling card to Eric and he smiled. “I believe that you have just been offered the sworn fealty of none other than Amleth of Cumbria, Sheriff of London.”

“Wow. All I had to do was get attacked by a demon.”

“He is probably on his way here to take out Ronwe as we speak.”

Rosalyn fingered the business card. “I’m scared, Eric.” She looked at him with pleading eyes and much to his own annoyance, he found himself giving her a hug. He snuck a whiff of his maker’s scent in her hair. “What are we going to do with all this stuff?”

“You cannot send it back,” he cautioned.

“No, no. I realize that. Let’s take note of who sent what and have the flowers donated to the children’s hospital.”

“And the gifts?”

“Are they as over the top ridiculous as I suspect?”

He eyed the sea of boxes containing precious jewels and watches and other exorbitant tokens. “Probably worse.”

“Can you get rid of these things discretely for me?”

“Sure, as long as nothing is one of a kind.”

“Good,” she said with determination. “Put the money towards your portion of the school fund. Name the library after yourself if you want.”

Eric shook his head with a chuckle. “Clever little human. You’ve done more to advance the Great Reveal in the past few months than we’ve accomplished in years. That’s why they are after you, you know.”

If the compliment was supposed to reassure her, it failed. “When we were at the fundraiser, Godric said something about Ronwe’s master being a member of the High Council.”

“Roman is not just any counselor. He is the High Counselor – the chief executive.”

Ros swallowed. “Please tell me he’s not older than Godric.”

Eric wished he could lie to her. “He is.”

Her heart sunk. “What are we going to do?” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“First, we’re going to get some food in you. Then we’ll deal with these presents. One thing at a time, okay?”

Chapter Text

Eric and Rosalyn were splayed out on the living room floor sorting through the tribute she had received following her disastrous demon attack. They were making progress separating what could be sold off when Eric opened a rectangular case. “Oh, what in the name of the Nine fucking Realms,” he swore.

“What is it?” she said. Eric held up an antique necklace with a string of enormous square emeralds encircled with diamonds. “Oh, hell no. Please tell me we can dump that one. I would never wear something like that. Just give it to Pam or something.”

“We can’t. She would wear it and then we would be in a metric shit-ton of trouble. This is from Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq of Louisiana – my boss. And if you ever have the unfortunate occasion to meet that nasty bitch, it would probably be best to be wearing it to show your ‘appreciation’.”

Rosalyn groaned in disgust. “Fine, throw it in the ‘keep’ pile.” She grumbled something about how mining industries were gross pits of human rights violations.

Caleb Cash emerged from Godric’s office just as Eric was reaching for the next gift. The werewolf was red-eyed and looked worse for the wear. He avoided meeting Eric’s amused gaze and slunk out the front door. Eric gestured for Rosalyn to get up and they left the pile of cards and the long tribute inventory list on the rug. In the Sheriff’s office, they sat in the armchairs in front of the desk. Godric paced the room, arms behind his back. “We need a Britlingan bodyguard,” the ancient declared. “Maybe two Britlingans.”

“For how long?” Eric said. The elusive beings were extraordinarily difficult to summon and their services were even more difficult to secure.

“We’ll need them for at least a year. Maybe more.”

“Godric, we don’t have that kind of money now. Or have you forgotten?” The Celt barked something in another language at Eric and slammed his fist on the desk. “That’s not a long-term plan,” Eric replied. “Roman is going to want his demon back. Let’s think of how we can leverage Ronwe first.”

They volleyed ideas back and forth at a dizzying pace. Each option seemed to come with fallout. Rosalyn could only half follow the discussion. Much of what was said was in forgotten tongues. They spoke of old allies and old enemies, of debts and favors owed. It was all ancient history. None of it provided a solution deemed satisfactory. Eric started yelling in Old Norse and Godric lost it and yelled right back at him. Their strategic brainstorming devolved into an outright argument.

The intercom on Godric’s desk beeped. “What?” he barked.

“Sheriff Amleth and a human named Sookie Stackhouse are requesting to enter the estate,” Stan reported from the gatehouse.

Godric pinched the bridge of his nose in total exasperation. “Let them pass.”

Within minutes, there was a knock at the door. Isabelle escorted Amleth and his ward into the office. Sookie waved at Rosalyn. She was wearing a bubblegum pink sundress with her bleached hair swept up off her neck. She looked like tarted-up vampire bait.

“What part of ‘keep that woman away from this family’ did you not understand?” Godric said, seething. Amleth dropped into a chair without invitation. He popped the top off a Royalty Blended that Isabelle had offered him and took a swig. “Answer me!” Godric said. “Does it look like I have time for this?”

“Depends.”

Godric crossed his arms and ground his jaw. “Do not fool with me right now, Amleth. Depends on what?”

“On whether having the only direct heir of the Fae crown Prince Niall Brigant in your office improves your situation at the moment.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Eric retorted. If this was meant to be a joke, no one was laughing.

“I’m not toying with you, mate. She’s the illegitimate granddaughter of Fintan sodding Brigant. She’s been right in your backyard this whole time.”

Godric and Eric were stunned. Sookie looked sheepishly at her manicured toes. “It turns out my Gran took some pretty big secrets to her grave.”

“Eric, remember how your predecessor’s assassin was never caught?” Amleth said.

The Viking gave a wary look. “You have got to be…No. Fairy?”

“You guessed it. Niall had the old Sheriff taken out knowing you wanted Area Five. You thought you won the sheriffdom fair and square? You were installed, Eric. Niall has been banking on our support since he discovered Sookie had ‘The Spark’.”

“So he could force this bloodline’s hand into becoming involved in their accursed fairy treachery? Unbelievable. Amla, you tell that psycho prince he had better not come anywhere near me.” Godric sunk into his chair and ran a hand over his face, galled that the Fae were yet again interfering with their lives. Their kind had a very tenuous truce with the creatures. He gestured to the chair next to Rosalyn. “Have a seat, Fairy Princess.”

Sookie giggled at the moniker. “Why thank you, Mr. Godric. May I say, your house is real stunning! What a showplace!”

Eric cocked an eyebrow at Rosalyn and mimicked lighting a match. She suppressed a laugh that drew Amleth’s attention. He truly looked at her for the first time since his arrival. He choked on his drink seeing the sheen of ancient blood radiating off of every inch of her. Sputtering, he wiped the drips from his chin with the back of his hand. “Godric…how? Dr. Murray, you look simply radiant this evening. I take it you are feeling better?”

“Much better. We got your card. Thank you.” Amleth winked at her. Sookie cut her eyes at Rosalyn and huffily adjusted her dress strap. She scooted closer to Amleth.

“Is Niall willing to negotiate with the High Council on our behalf?” Godric said.

“He’s been cagey, but I think we have a shot,” Amleth said. “Faerie isn’t safe for Sookie and she needs a powerful vampire to protect her from others who would enslave her to gain access to her power. Roman will forget all about Rosalyn once he knows we have a Brigant princess with telepathy as our bargaining chip.”

“Surely you don’t mean to hand her over to him,” Godric protested.

“Heavens no. Sookie has expressed an interest in going back to London with me. I’ve a mind to make her my Eliza Doolittle project. Polish her up and help her get her own consulting business started. If Roman wants her services, he can pay exorbitantly for them like everyone else.”

Godric looked visibly relieved. “You’ll take responsibility for Ms. Stackhouse? See that no harm comes to her?”

“Naturally.”

“Do you agree to this, Ms. Stackhouse?”

“Oh yes! Amleth was telling me all about his mansion in Belsize Park on the way here. I guess that’s north London? He says I can go to college if I want and see all the sights and eventually travel through the whole continent! I’ve never been out of the country. Heck, this is only the second time I’ve ever been out of Louisiana. Let’s face it. I was going nowhere fast serving burgers in a two-stoplight town. This is a big opportunity.”

“Very well,” Godric said.

“What about the AVL and Nan? We’re going to have to patch that up somehow,” Eric said.

Amleth growled. “Somebody needs to shorten her leash. What did she think she was doing messing with this family?”

Godric sighed. “The woman is a fool. She wanted to turn us into a celebrity couple for her own political advancement. She thought Roman would reward her with more power.”

“Seriously? ‘Godalyn’? ‘Rodric’? Give me a break,” Amleth snorted.

“I doubt she will bother trying anything further with us. Godric absolutely terrified her,” Eric said.

“Alright. I’ll get a hold of Niall and finalize the deal.”

“We still have a demon in the basement to deal with,” Eric reminded them.

“I’m going to twist that little shite’s head off,” Amleth declared.

“I don’t think that’s an option, Amla, although I’ve already given him a pretty good working over. Godric, do you think Desmond could send him back to the Underworld? Find some way to break the contract Roman forced on him?”

Godric chewed at his cheek. “Perhaps.”

“Who’s Desmond?” Rosalyn whispered to Eric.

“Desmond Cataliades. He’s a half-demon and one of our best lawyers.”

Godric drummed his fingers on the desk in thought. “Isabelle?”

She materialized at the door in seconds. “Yes, Sheriff?”

“Get Cataliades on the phone.”

“Why won’t you just get a damn phone, Maker? You need one all the time,” Eric said.

“Because one can be tracked through those treacherous devices. You know this. It is not safe.”

Eric rolled his eyes. Isabelle returned with her cell.

“Desmond,” Godric said. “Yes, she is well now.” Godric shifted into the strangest language Rosalyn had ever heard. The demon tongue sounded like Klingon.

~OOO~

Rosalyn’s head bounced. She startled awake as Godric was tucking her into bed. She had curled up on his office couch with a book while he, Amleth, and Eric had batted around further plans. Isabelle entertained Sookie with one of her thorough tours of the property. Rosalyn curled under the covers. Godric programmed Eric’s palm print into his underground bunker and Eric lugged his travel coffin upstairs into the main bedroom and dropped it at the foot of the master bed.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Eric told her and locked himself inside. Godric kissed Rosalyn goodnight.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I need to go talk to our prisoner.” His expression was murderous.

She tried to rest, but her dreams were fitful. The memory of the demon’s touch burned in her sleep and she woke repeatedly. Only the lamp on the dresser was lit and through the dim light she could see that Eric’s coffin was still closed. The house was silent, but it was late in the day. Rosalyn got out of bed and coded open the main door.

“Godric?” she called down the corridor. She tiptoed down the hall and peaked into his study. It was empty. The gym was pitch black. Further down, she heard what sounded like the rhythmic swish of a laundry machine. She followed the noise and found Godric doing laps in the pool. He sensed her presence and rolled onto his back, floating away from her.

“Come to bed, love,” she said from the tile edge. The underwater pool light showered the ceiling with eerie silver ripples.

“I need to think. Please go back to the bedroom. It is safer there.”

“It’s past noon. Won’t you try to sleep?”

“No,” he said and rolled over. He resumed his perfectly timed strokes. She called to him above the water. He ignored her.

~OOO~

The next night, Rosalyn discovered Godric had moved her mini fridge into the bedroom and left her a hotplate and a box of her kitchen utensils.

When she knocked on his closed office door, he calmly told her he and Eric were working and that she needed to keep to the most secure room in the house. Her jaw dropped. He had never been so high-handed with her. Amleth slipped past her with an armload full of paperwork and silently shook his head in warning.

On the third night, both she and Eric were banished to the bedroom. Roman had apparently called looking for his demon and demanded that the Stackhouse woman be turned over to him. Godric hung up on him.

“This is going to turn into a full-scale war,” Ros said glumly.

“It is early days yet,” Eric said. Ros spun circles in an armchair and stared up at the ceiling.

“Where is he sleeping?” Eric asked from the floor. “I know he hasn’t been in that bed since he healed you. Where is he during the day, Ros?”

A cold dread coursed through her. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“What are you hiding?” He rolled up to a sit.

Rosalyn clamped her eyes shut. “Ask him yourself. If you glamour me, he’ll be very angry with us both.”

A wrinkle of concern formed across Eric’s brow. “If there is something you know, you must tell me. Don’t keep secrets from me, especially when they concern my maker.”

“I am telling you to ask your maker that question,” she repeated slowly.

He was about to protest when suddenly the shriek of the alarm pierced his preternatural hearing. In a blur, Eric ripped a sword from a scabbard on the wall. Rosalyn leapt to her feet, unsure of what was happening. “Move! Stand there!” he snapped. Rosalyn practically tripped over herself to get in the blind spot behind the door. It was only then that she saw the LED pad of the alarm flashing red. They waited for tense minutes, Eric poised to attack.

“I thought that thing was fake,” she whispered, nodding at the longsword in his hands. Eric snorted and kept a laser-like focus on the door. Ten minutes went by and finally Eric heard Godric call to him.

“All clear,” he said, relaxing.

Rosalyn exhaled a breath she was not aware of holding. “What was that?”

“I think Derek nearly got away from Godric.”

~OOO~

It was nearly dawn when Eric tapped very lightly on Godric’s office door. The ancient had grown fractious and taciturn the past few nights. Eric hated when Godric spiraled into one of his black moods. Eric entered cautiously. “Maker?” Godric looked up from his desk. “I need to ask you something.”

“What.”

“You have not been sleeping in the master suite. Ros refused to tell me why. It was clear she knew. Please tell me what is going on.”

Godric pinched his brow. “I am extremely worried about the gravity of the situation we find ourselves in and I’ve been working through the day to resolve it.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. He could feel through their bond that this was a half-truth. “But the bleeds. And you haven’t fed.”

“I rarely get them anymore.”

“Hmm.” Eric knew Godric was concealing something. He would figure it out eventually. “Any luck finding a Britlingen?”

“No,” Godric said tersely. “Now leave me be.”

~OOO~

A few days later, Godric finally made the decision he had agonized over day and night. He slipped into the master bedroom and disengaged the lock on Eric’s coffin. He roused Eric as gently as possible, knowing how poorly he reacted to daytime surprises.

“Come,” he ordered. Eric was groggy and lumbered gracelessly, following his maker without question into the spacious library. When they sat, Godric addressed his child in the most formal title their kind had to use. “Blood of my blood, my only progeny, we need to talk.” If Eric had not been awake before, he was now. “I apologize for waking you midday, but what I have to say is not for anyone to hear in this house but us.”

Eric blinked in surprise and nodded. “How can I serve you, Maker?”

“I have a solution.”

“Fantastico. What’s the game plan?”

“I need to ask you something, but if you choose to do it, you must do it for yourself and not for me.”

“Okay.”

Eric was entirely unprepared for what came out of Godric’s mouth. So stunned was he that he nearly fell out of his chair. “I would ask how you feel about blood bonding with Rosalyn. A permanent bond.”

“What? But she is yours! How the hell does that solve anything?”

“Calm yourself. I am not finished. Hear me out…”

~OOO~

Rosalyn woke to find Eric’s coffin empty. It seemed quite early for him to be up and about. She stretched and yawned, then made her way down the hallway. She heard voices in Godric’s library. They went silent when she knocked.

“Enter.”

She opened the heavy door to a smiling Godric. Eric turned in his chair. “Oh! Eric, you’re bleeding!” she said. Rosalyn grabbed a tissue from a dispenser on a side table and went to him. Eric was wearing a strange expression - something between shock and total awe. She dabbed at the dribbles of blood at his ears. His mouth was agape. He turned back to his maker.

“Really?”

“Eric, honestly. How many times have I said ‘yes.'”

“Really? Really, really?”

“Yes, damn you!” Godric said, laughing.

Eric leapt to his feet and Rosalyn suddenly found herself crushed in a Viking-sized bear hug. “Ouch, Eric, that’s too hard! You always squeeze too hard!” She thumped his back. He loosened his grip only to whisk her off her feet and swing her in a circle. He babbled incoherently at her a mile a minute. “Eric, what the hell has gotten into you?” He answered with another stream of Norse, even more excited. He bounced her up and down in wide circles. “English!” she demanded, unable to hold back her laughter at his enthusiasm.

“Put her down child, before you break her,” Godric said mildly. Eric dropped her only to snag up his maker and start spinning like a Tasmanian devil. Godric threw back his head cackled. It was one of the very few times he had ever allowed his child to treat him like a rag doll.

When Eric finally set him down, Eric dropped to his knees before Rosalyn and took her hands in his. “Have I told you how much you mean to me for saving my maker?” He looked up at her with awe. “I adored you the moment I realized you fed my maker and made him happy. You drive me crazy with your stubbornness and your hippy dippy shit, but I love, love, love, love you for what you’ve done for this family. There aren’t words enough.”

Ros laughed nervously, glancing at Godric to check his reaction. He was wearing a self-satisfied smirk with his arms crossed. “Enough, Eric. We need to get ready.”

“Are you going somewhere?” she said.

“Yes, we are. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh. Okay.” She patted the top of the blond’s head awkwardly, trying to get him to release her.

“Move it, Eric,” Godric growled.

Eric hopped up and then, spring-loaded, went boinging out the doorway, his giddiness uncontained. “Are you going to explain that?” Rosalyn said. “Because I am really confused.” The Viking could run hot and cold, but he certainly did not boing.

“In short order, my love. Come, we should change.”

“I’m going too? What are we dressing for?”

“Like I said, it’s a surprise. Now, would you mind wearing your sundress? The one you wore the night we met? You don’t have to, but - ”

“Sure. How’d you know I packed it?” she said.

“I might have peeked.”

“Naughty vampire.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

Godric strode into the master suite and began issuing orders. With that, the house was thrown into sudden, absolute chaos. Without asking and using her super speed, Isabelle stripped Rosalyn out of her nightgown and put her in a beautiful coral color underwear set and her sundress before Rosalyn could even lodge a complaint. Godric was at the large vanity and tried on and discarded at least three different suits before settling on a grey cashmere sweater.

“Get my winter peacoat, Isabelle.” She disappeared into the enormous walk-in closet and there was much shuffling. “Look with your eyes, Isabelle, not with your hands. Stop pawing your scent all over my things,” Godric barked.

“Do you want the boiled wool one or the brushed wool?” Isabelle said.

“The pea coat, I told you…”

“They’re both blue peacoats!”

“Oh, for the love of the gods! Just find it!”

Rosalyn crawled onto the bed in an attempt to steer clear of the insanity. It was all for naught, however, because Eric immediately heaved the contents of a chest out next to her, spilling a heavy splash of jewelry into an impossible, priceless pile. He started combing through it like rubble.

“Ow!” he belted out, retracting a scorched finger. “Fucking balls, Godric! Why must you insist on mixing your silver with everything else? Ros, dear, can you move that bracelet?” She set it aside and he continued pawing through the jewelry.

“What are you after?” she asked.

“A little bronze Thor’s hammer. It’s very special.” She helped pick through the glittering pieces. Despite her purported disinterest in gems, he caught her eyes wandering back several times to a large South Sea pearl ring in the mess. “You’re certain you didn’t leave it in the Amsterdam vault?” Eric pressed his maker.

“No, I told you,” Godric said. He was brushing out his hair, unconcerned that every other creature was in a frenzy to please him.

“Well, where the hell is it then? It’s not here.”

“Damn. Maybe I did leave it in Amsterdam.”

Eric huffed in frustration and pulled the necklace off his own throat. He slipped it over Godric’s head and tucked the two little steel anchors hanging from it underneath his sweater, smoothing out the fabric. A look passed between them and Eric gave his maker’s arm a squeeze.

“Bingo!” Isabelle called out from the closet. She whipped out the coat she had been hunting.

Godric snapped at his son and pulled out the chair in front of the vanity mirror. “C’mon, sweetpea,” Eric said. “I’m going to do your hair.” At this point, Rosalyn did not bother resisting. She plopped down at the dressing table. “Do you want kick ass Valkyrie goddess or boring old French braid?”

“Are those my only options?” she said.

“It’s going to be really windy. Let’s go with badass Viking.” She harrumphed, but when it was said and done, she had to admit it was pretty much the coolest hairstyle she had ever donned. Eric had pulled the top of her hair into a poof and wound the sides into intricate criss-crossing braids that gnarled and looped in a tumble. While he put the finishing touches on it with a few carefully placed strands of pearls, Isabelle gave her a quick manicure and pedicure and plucked a few stray hairs off her eyebrows.

This night was getting exponentially weirder by the second. Godric tucked her tightly into his coat and tied a heavy scarf around her neck.

“Honey, I am going to sweat to death in this,” she said to him. “What is going on?”

“We’re going flying.”

~OOO~

In the front yard of the estate, Godric pressed Rosalyn against his body and wrapped two iron arms around her. “I won’t go higher than 10,000 feet so you can breathe, but it’s going to be a bit of a longer jaunt than last time. Just let me know if you get cold or uncomfortable.”

They flew – and few fast - for what seemed like an hour or more. The cloud cover was thick and she could not tell where they were, but when Godric descended, Rosalyn squealed in delight. “Our valley!”

Godric landed in the same desert canyon in New Mexico where they had first taken their walk. The moon was not as bright as it was when they were last there, but it still provided enough gentle light to see.

“My darling Ros,” Godric said, looking very serious. He sund to one knee, taking up her hands. She sucked in a sharp breath in surprise. “Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray, you have stunned me to my very core. I find I cannot live without you. It is more than just a want. I desire you, of course, with every fiber of my being. But I find that I need you. I need you desperately.”

“Oh Godric…” she said through a quivering lip.

“This business with Ronwe and Roman has had me wracked with fear for your safety. I apologize for being distant these past few days. I have searched desperately for a way to allow you to live freely without being exposed to further danger. For two millennia, I have taken from this world. I have taken untold amounts of life. I took Eric. I was Death itself. Now is the time for giving. I must restore the balance. You have taught me this. The night we met again at the charity ball I promised myself to let you lead. I wish to give myself to you. I wish to give you everything I have, everything I am. I am yours, if you will have me.”

He pulled out the ring she had seen in the pile of jewels she and Eric had dug through. The enormous pearl was clasped in a delicate diamond tracery. He slipped it over her finger. He looked up at her, his face full of raw, boyish hope.

Tears were streaming from her eyes. “Oh, Godric! How did you…this is beautiful. You are so beautiful!” She cupped his face and pressed a teary kiss to his mouth.

“Could you walk this world with me? Will you teach me how to see its beauty again? Could you be my companion?”

“What…what are you asking?” she whispered, sinking to her knees in front of him.

“Would you share your life with me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, barely making sound.

“Would you share eternity with me?” Her heart skipped a beat and she started shaking. “I can only give you the moon and the stars. Would you be my light, love?”

Rosalyn threw her arms around him in response and tackled him flat onto his back. “Of course. We’ll never let the light out!” she cried. “The night will always be abloom with flowers.” They kissed in furious desperation.

“Where do we do it?” she said when she finally has to surface for air.

“Wherever you wish.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not terrifically. Somewhere safe, obviously, and light-tight. The location will affect your scent.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I was made inside a huge old oak tree in a sacred grove, so I smell of sweet autumn leaves and the oil I was using to make my sacrifices to the gods. I was in the middle of a rite of passage. Obviously, it didn’t go quite according to plan.”

She laughed. “Thank goodness for that. And Eric?”

“Mmm. Eric smells incredible. Like the cold ocean and fir trees with the slightest hint of burning hickory. I turned him in a cave near the Baltic Sea,” he said, hiding his pride behind long thick lashes.

Ros was certain he would blush if he could. A shadow of horror suddenly crossed her features. “But …Eric!” she said.

“Eric has given me his blessing. I wouldn’t have proceeded without it. I was surprised by his reaction, to say the least.”

“That was why he was bouncing off the walls?”

“He told me it’s the best gift I could ever give him save for turning him. He is beyond thrilled at the possibility of having a blood sister.”

“Good. That’s reassuring. So, what would I smell like if you turned me here?”

Godric hesitated. “I only meant to pose the question here. It felt appropriate. There is much more I must tell you before you decide.”

“Why not now? Let’s do it here!” she said. Her face fell. “No? Would I smell bad?”

Godric scented the air deeply. “You would…you would smell like the wild wind,” he gasped. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. “And you would smell…like…the sun.” A crimson tear escaped and streamed thickly down his cheek. He smeared it off and she sucked it greedily from his finger before he could protest.

“Oh my love, don’t cry,” she said. “Let’s not wait. Now is our moment!”

Godric steadied himself with a few measured breaths. “Let me say my piece. This is very important.” She urged him to continue. “First, I wish to tell you how absolutely delicious you smell and feel and taste as a mortal. I will go to ground the rest of my days loving the way you are to me right now. I will never forget it. It is because I love you so much that I must keep it only as a memory. I tell you this now so you will never doubt it later.” He toyed with the end of one of her braids.

“If you choose this, you must understand that I will be your maker. Many younglings struggle with this today. Our world as you now well know can be a very dangerous place. I do not pretend otherwise. But turning you is the only way I can protect you truly. No one will dare touch my progeny. I promise that I will always try my best to give you a choice in things, but there may be matters when your safety or the safety of our family comes first. Do not think for a second that I won’t use my command over you or correct you when you err dangerously. This is paramount. These are not modern marriage vows where we can edit out the parts we don’t like. It is non-negotiable. My dominion over you will be absolute until the day I die, as will my dedication to you.”

“You’re right. It’s not an easy thing to embrace.”

“Which is why it comes with a promise. The night Eric rose, I promised him that I would never abuse my maker’s command over him. You can ask him whether he believes me a fair maker before you make your final decision. I believe I have stayed true to my word and I promise you the same. Know that I will never lie to you out of malice, though there may be things I cannot tell you.”

“Can I ask something in return?”

“Of course.”

“Will you listen to me, especially when I think you’re hiding things from yourself?”

Godric gave a sheepish smile. “Yes.”

“And will you hear me out and take what I have to say into consideration? Will you talk to me and not give me the silent treatment when you have your head up your ass? Because I’m not signing up for that.”

“Yes. I will do that for you.”

“You promise?”

“I swear it on the blood. Your counter request brings me to the last couple things I want to say.”

“Is the plan to talk me to death, mister?”

He gave the braid he had been rolling between his fingers a teasing tug. “You will inevitably be tempted to compare yourself to Eric and me, as well as Pamela. You will yearn for our powers far sooner than they will come and you mustn’t be frustrated by this. They will come in time if they come. They may not. You may have your own unique gifts, we shall see. With time you will also learn much about the lives we have led. Obviously, there is a millennium of history between myself and my first child and we will gladly share those memories with you. But I don’t want for you to look at Eric and feel jealousy. Ever. We have our own road to travel, you and me. What is critical for you to understand is that this is your journey and yours alone.”

“I get that part. I can’t begrudge you for the past. But I don’t want to mess up things between you two, either. I’m worried. Eric has been an only child for a long darn time.”

“Indeed. I want you to consider forming a blood bond with Eric before you are turned. It is your choice to accept or not, but I will tell you it is something I wish for very much. Eric has already agreed if you are willing.”

“But…” Her mouth dropped as she tried to wrap her head around the implications.

“It would be a rare thing – to have a bonded turned by another bonded, child and maker no less. The bond would seal in you. You two would be one in the blood and I find the thought pleases me greatly. It would allow you two to sense and feel each other far more than regular siblings.”

“You want him to know me like that? To be inside my head forever and me in his?”

“You saw him. He’s over the moon about having a little sister and you’re still breathing. How overbearing, high-handed, and overprotective do you suppose he’ll be when and if you are actually turned?”

“Oh sweet Jesus…”

“Exactly. It would stop him from taking things too far. He would know when he makes you unhappy, when he’s hurting you, when you need his help. I can find no downside. Eric is a crucial part of me. I am offering you everything I have. There are no exceptions.” She let out a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed. “There is one final thing, love. You must know that as in all things magic, sometimes something can go awry.”

“I could end up dying.”

“Yes,” he said, looking grim.

“You will go on. That’s my bargain. If something screws up, you and Eric must forge ahead. You will remember and cherish and continue. It’s the time for giving, like you said.”

He bit his cheek and agreed. “Even if we succeed, and I have every reason to think we will, it will be painful at the very end. You won’t suffer as Eric did, but I cannot make it painless.”

“You are forgetting that I’m a woman, Godric. We are built for far bloodier purposes than war. I have the power of creation.”

“Indeed, you do. Are you certain you want to give it up?”

“But vampires don’t, really, do they?”

A sly smile reached the corners of his mouth. “No, we don’t.”

“I want you to turn me, Godric. Teach me how to survive the nightlife. Give me the moon and the stars and an eternity with the one I love.”

“You are certain?”

“Now you’re just dawdling!”

He laughed and then closed his eyes in concentration. Tendrils of his ancient power thrust out into the night and bounced of the walls of the desert. A twisting colony of bats shot into the sky in a winged column. “There’s our spot. Shall we walk or do you want to fly? Eric will be here soon.”

“Let’s walk.”

They made their way across the valley, hand in hand. Somewhere in the night, coyotes yipped and brayed. “What are they singing?” Rosalyn asks.

Godric smiled. “They are celebrating.”

At the valley wall, Godric saved them the treacherous scramble up some hundred feet of crumbling cliff. He flew upwards effortlessly. The cavern ran deep into the mountain and would shield them from daylight. Beyond the opening, it was pitch black. Rosalyn lingered at the opening where she could still catch enough moonlight to see. Godric wrapped his arms around her waist and hummed an ancient love song into her neck, rocking her gently. He could not contain his joy.

It was not long before Eric arrived with a bag of supplies, having received his maker’s call to come. Godric looked at him with unveiled appreciation as Eric lit a lantern and moved to arrange a comfortable place on the ground. He spread a thick blanket out. Eric’s discerning eyes wandered over the cave, appreciating the choice in locale.

“You’re a sneak!” Rosalyn accused, holding up the finger adorned with the pearl ring Eric had slipped into his maker’s pocket.

“What?” he said innocently, unable to suppress his laughter.

Godric squeezed Eric’s shoulder. “She has questions.” Before leaping off the ledge of the cave, he turned. “Thank you, child.”

Rosalyn took a seat on the blanket and fiddled with the knotted fringe at its end. “He is worried you will tell me he was a bad maker. I know that isn’t true.”

“He will be very different with you, but only because you are so different from me. And the times are different. I know without a doubt that he will be everything you need and much, much more. He is the greatest man I have ever known.”

“I worry about the command stuff. Will he be harsh if I make mistakes? He flipped out pretty badly at the charity ball.”

“In a thousand years, Godric has never once abused his power over me. He will guide you. When you err, and you will err, he will simply help you to your feet and make you stronger. My trust in him is absolute. My faith in him is even greater.” Eric’s words were full of passion. He pressed a fist against his chest to stress his point. “The only true error you can make – and I cannot stress this enough – is to purposefully defying him by doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous that jeopardizes our lives like I did at the ball. He does not tolerate insubordination when it comes to the safety of his bloodline.”

“What about my humanity?”

Eric took a moment to respond. “What is it that makes anyone human? Certainly not when you wake up or what you eat. We were all human. The transformation simply makes us…more.”

“But my ability to empathize with others? To resist violence? To care for others rather than cause pain?”

“Ros, what you speak of is character. Your empathy and goodness are qualities integral to who you are. That doesn’t change. They will very likely carry over as powerful gifts.”

“I don’t want to kill someone in bloodlust.”

“I understand. But you are not vegetarian now. You kill to live, only you have the luxury of not seeing it. You’re not being turned in the Dark Ages. There is bagged blood and synthetic blood and plenty of other ways to help you learn. We’ll do everything to keep that from happening, but there may come a time when it cannot be helped. I won’t lie. The basic impulses of vampires are inconceivably strong. We are hypersensitive to the energies of other living things.”

“How so?”

“Hmm. As a vampire, you will be seduced by the world with all its pleasures and mysteries and capable of seducing it right back. It can be hard not to resist at times. Again, we will guide you to master those impulses.” Eric ran a hand over her arm and slid to his knees. “Min lillasyster, I swear on my maker’s blood that I will guard you and care for you every night that I walk this world. I will honor you and cherish you always.”

Ros swallowed nervously. “Promise not be a pigheaded ass all of the time?”

“I swear on the blood.”

“Will you be serious when it’s important and not terrorize me with your incessant teasing?”

“I swear…mostly.”

“Eric!”

He could not suppress his smile. “How will you know I still love you if I don’t tease you? I offer you my blood, Rosalyn. Will you bond with me?”

She took a deep breath and held out a wrist. Eric shook his head. “We are going to make a full bond. It’s going to take a fair amount of blood. That’s not a good place.”

“Oh, okay.” She tilted her neck in offering.

Eric rolled his eyes. “You forget that I cannot bite into my maker’s blood.” The two large blood marks covered her arteries, making them completely impossible for him to reach.

“Shoot, right. Where then?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this. It’s going to have to be your femoral artery.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Eric. Just behave yourself down there.”

“I will.”

She lifted up her skirt to expose one thigh. Stroking the spot lightly to get the artery to rise, he gently bit and drank up her delicious nectar. He drank for quite some time and she grew very faint. He sealed the spot and caressed her hair. “Shh, Ros, you’ll be fine in a moment. Bite my neck hard. I’ll tell you when to stop.” He leaned over her and she crunched down on him and accidentally let out a moan when his powerful blood hit her tongue. She swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of the cool, thick liquid while he took more from her wrist.

When it was done, she flopped down on the blanket feeling completely high. The chord tethering them settled into place and Eric laid down next to her. The bond was warm and she could feel Eric stirring in her, elated and content.

“I have not given my blood to a human in several centuries,” he whispered.

“Do you feel okay?”

“Read the bond.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’ll be able to better help me when this is through. You’ve already moved mountains to help me. Thank you. You are a good friend.”

“Anything for you, little sister.” He rolled to a stand and waits at the cave entrance. Godric flew back in and stroked his cheek with a loving look. Eric bowed his head. “I’ll return back to Dallas to deliver the demon to Cataliades.” He turned back to Rosalyn. “See you when you wake.”

Godric knelt down to Rosalyn and cradled her in his arms. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m going to drain you until you fall unconscious, then give you a big draught of my blood, then repeat the process until dawn. You’re going to become very weak by the end of it. Only then I will drink the last of your beautiful human blood. Shall we start?”

“Yes.”

“Rosalyn, look into my eyes. I command you to keep going. Be strong, brave one. Do not let your heart stop until I still it forever. I will be right at your side when you rise.” Rosalyn blinked several times at the glamour and nodded. “Then let us begin.”

Chapter Text

In the beginning, there was nothing, and in this nothing lay only peace and silence. From deep within the void, someone said a word. It echoed in ripples through the fabric of darkness.

Rosalyn…Rosalyn.

The sound was familiar. The call grew more insistent. The air vibrated with agitation.

Rosalyn!

Suddenly, there was a thread of awareness. The word was a name. That name had meaning. It signified something important.

Rosalyn!

It…It was her name!

Rosalyn slammed back down into her body and her eyes shot open. Overhead, a canopy of stone glistened in colors she had never before seen. Every angled plane and sheared edge formed a mosaic full of fascinating details. She inhaled and she could smell the sun in the valley and the whispering of the wind against stone and sand. There were animals and insects. And flowers. So many, many flowers.

"Ros," someone said. She turned in the direction of the voice. Godric stood over her, a crimson tear streaking down his cheek. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him. His beauty stunned her new preternatural vision. He was an alabaster god with an aura of omnipotent power radiating all around him. The pull to go to him was almost painful. She reached for him and he took her hand. Rosalyn gasped at the electric sensations his touch sent through her entire body. Her skin was hyper-sensitive. He whispered something in an ancient tongue and the blood in her knew it was a prayer.

"My love. My Rosalyn." She tried to move but she felt leaden and twitchy. "Rest a moment. Your body is still waking. I'm here." He stroked her fingers and the feeling was divine.

"Godric," she managed to say. He smiled brightly and it illuminated her from within. She looked beyond him and saw the cave was lit with hundreds of tealights and was filled with bundles of poppies. She suddenly realized they were not alone. Her head whipped to the left. Eric and Pam were holding each other, watching intently. Amleth was there too with a hand over his awestruck mouth. They had gathered to witness the auspicious night of Rosalyn's awakening. Rosalyn rocketed upright. There was extraordinary power coursing through her veins.

"Feeling a bit more oriented?" Godric said.

"I feel incredible."

Godric gave a sly smile. She threw her arms around him and nuzzled his neck. He caressed her hair and skin and mouthed kisses on her shoulder. He sat back on his knees. "Welcome to your Turning Ceremony." The cave danced in the candlelight and the air was filled with the green, earthy scent of poppies.

The four vampires joined hands around her. "Welcome to our bloodline, Rosalyn," they said in unison. "We swear on the blood to honor you and protect you as you will do for us."

Godric then spoke as the paterfamilias. "We are one in the blood and being one, we share everything." They all knelt around her.

"Open your mouth for me, darling," Godric said. She did and he held a cup up to her. The smell hit her nose and her fangs dropped. She startled in surprise and Godric beamed in ferocious pride. Ros ran a tongue over one fang and shivered. They were long and deadly sharp. Had she not parted her lips, they no doubt would have been badly sliced. He pressed the cup to her mouth and she drank. Never had she known such thirst nor felt it so deliciously satisfied. The liquid was ecstasy. Godric gestured toward Eric. He too gave her a cup and the others each took their turn feeding her newborn hunger. How beautiful it was to have her new family all gathered to care for her first moments of immortality. It was strange how natural drinking blood felt.

"Shall we continue?" Godric said.

"Absolutely," she said.

"You don't feel too distracted by your new senses?"

"I'm managing. I think being in an enclosed space helps."

"Excellent. Then let me explain. It has become a tradition in this bloodline to give sacred tokens from our turnings to the newest member in order to demonstrate that we are all truly one in the blood. We share everything in this family. My gift to you is different from what everyone else has brought tonight, however. There is nothing left from the time when I was made."

"Except for megaliths and I doubt you'd want one of those, Ros," Eric quipped. Godric shot the Viking a glacial glare.

Godric pulled out a rectangular wood box from a satchel. The sides were bound by a band of runic script while the looping swirls of a love knot graced the top. He paused before continuing, readying himself for what he wished to say next. "Three days ago I asked whether you would be my companion and share eternity with me. You accepted a ring from me, a symbol of commitment in the human world." He opened the lid and pulled out a dagger. "Though I do not have the original, this is a replica of the sacrificial oathing knife I owned as a mortal. I was using it to conduct the last of the rites that would have inducted me as a Druidic shaman king. The knife slipped and I accidentally cut myself in a sacred grove. That cut led me to be made vampire. I forged this dagger myself while you were transforming." He held it with two upturned hands so she could see it.

"Oh Godric, it's stunning." The iron hilt and guard were shaped in smooth, clean lines. "It was extremely rare to possess a knife with a steel blade back then. I did make a few additions to it for you," he adds. The blade was indeed intricately marked. On one side, the steel was etched entirely with stylized poppies surrounded by stars. The other was inscribed with a string of small runes set down the length of the fuller, or center dip, of the blade. "What does it say?"

Godric passed it to her with a deep bow. There were sniffles from the corner of the cave as the other vampires held back tears. Godric bit his lip. "You do not yet know our customs. This rite is one of our most sacred. To pass an oathing knife to another vampire is to pledge yourself in bonded marriage." Tears escaped his eyes. "Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray, my eternal love, I pledge myself to you for all time. I give you my body and all that I possess, so that you may always be protected and loved. I give you the fealty of my bloodline, so that you may always have the care of kin. I swear this oath to you, or may this holy blade deliver the true death unto me. Do you accept this dagger?"

Tears were now streaming down Rosalyn's face too. "Yes," she said almost inaudibly. "Yes, of course." Godric fell into her arms and they kissed and wept, noses pressed together, and kissed some more. After several minutes, Eric cleared his throat, lest they consummate the marriage right then and there.

Godric pulled away with a huge smile. He dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. "Your wedding dagger says 'My muse, my wife, may the stars always be abloom with flowers'."

Now everyone was crying.

Godric tilted Rosalyn's neck and bit, tasting his reborn vampire wife for the first time. His eyes rolled back in absolute euphoria and she cried out at the unimaginable pleasure of giving her blood. He then bit his wrist and offered it to her. She drank and her back arched with a loud moan. Eric had been absolutely correct that night they spent at the Sofitel Hotel. She would never thirst for anything like she would hunger for Godric's blood. It was inconsequential that it did not nourish her body. It nourished her very soul. "My husband. My maker," she gasped. Godric’s eyes shone with awe and disbelief at his fortune.

Eric reached for her hand, turning her attention to him. She sucked in an unnecessary breath. If he had been handsome to her human eyes, his golden hair and ice-chip eyes were now otherworldly. "Min lillasyster," he said. His little sister.

"My brother," she said. Although Rosalyn's bond with Godric encompassed every fiber of her being, within it she could feel a place where Eric was flipping around with wild happiness.

"Yes. Din bror." Your brother. He could not wait to teach her modern Swedish. And Old Norse. And sword fighting. And how to drive their cars at insane speeds. And…Eric realized his excitement had overtaken him. He clamped down on his end of the bond and it morphed into reverence. He pulled a necklace from around his neck.

"Hey, is that the little hammer we were looking for in your treasure chest?"

Eric bowed his head solemnly. "Ros, I have had this Thor's hammer for over a millennium. It was around Godric's neck the night he found me and gave me this life."

Her hands flew to her mouth. "No! I couldn't possibly - "

"You will accept this and know you take a place amongst us. As Godric said, we share in all things. These gifts are ours. They will all end up in a high-security vault, unless you'd like to keep any or all of them for a time."

"So, it was in Amsterdam!"

"Switzerland, it turned out."

"How many…nevermind." He placed it over her head. It rested over her silent heart and she clutched at it. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Eric took a fat tear off her cheek and tastes it. "Mmm, mmm, mmm. Eleven stars, sis."

"Oh my god you're already starting in!" He winked, then he opened his wrist and gave it to her. Their shared bond flooded with joy and gratitude.

"You do taste of the cold sea and frigid air moving through a fir forest," she said when they were done. He smirked, then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Pamela leaned forward, her perfect blonde hair and plush red lips shining. "Well I guess this makes me your niece. That's so fucked up." Everyone laughed, cutting the intensity of the ceremony. More handkerchiefs came out and there were smiles and happy looks exchanged as the group recovered from witnessing the rarest of marriage ceremonies after the rising of a new vampire.

Pam took Rosalyn’s hand and slipped a gold ring onto her right middle finger. "Wow, this is gorgeous,” Rosalyn said. “Is it bloodstone?"

"Yes. This is Eric's signet ring from the 19th century. He was wearing it on his enormous pinky the night we met. I had to have it resized ages ago otherwise it would have made for a lovely bracelet."

"Pamela…" Eric warned.

Rosalyn inspected the ring closely. The intaglio carved in the center of the stone was a Viking longsword flanked on either side with the curlicue initials E and N. She shook her and chuckled. "Thank god for bad opera and a little bit of Chopin." Pam raised her eyebrows at Eric in astonishment. That he had told Rosalyn about Pamela’s turning while Rosalyn was still human spoke volumes about his respect for the reborn vampiress.

"Thank you, Pam. It is a wonderful memento," Rosalyn said. Godric told Pamela to offer Rosalyn a token amount of blood. It gave Rosalyn a fleeting glimpse into Pamela’s psyche – enough to see how genuine her vow of protection was without forming a blood tie. Pam tasted of honeysuckle and French country fields warmed in the summer heat. It was amazing how much Rosalyn’s palate could discern.

At last, it was Amleth's turn. His ethereal beauty was the very definition of 'vampire' in humans' folklore. His long raven locks hung just past his shoulders and his dark eyes bewitched and dazzled. He furrowed his brow as he moved closer to Rosalyn and his full lips pinched into a thin line. He looked down and clenched his eyes, failing to hold back a trickle of crimson. Eric reached over and squeezed Amleth’s shoulder in concern. Amleth almost never lost his suave composure. Rosalyn's senses were too new to realize that he and Eric were blood bonded brothers. They had tried as best they could to remain so throughout the centuries.

"Amleth, what's wrong?" she said.

Amleth bit his lower lip and still more tears streamed down his cheeks. He quickly clasped her hand, pressing something into it. He was shaking. He stared at her for the longest time, his soulful eyes expressing something profound. When he finally released her hand, Rosalyn opened her palm to find a Roman gold piece. Godric, Eric, and Pam simultaneously drew in sharp breaths of shock. Their shock ricocheted through their bonds like the snap of a rubber band. "From my maker's coin purse," Amleth explained, still holding Rosalyn's gaze. "He gave it to me the night I was reborn, but I did not have the heart to spend it."

"Amla! You could have given her something of mine!" Godric protested, his voice cracking.

"No. You may have brought me to death's door – "

Ros whipped around to Godric. "You killed him?"

Godric silenced her with a sharp wave of a hand. "Story for another night."

"Only something from…" Amleth found he could not utter the name. "A token from my maker is the only worthy gift for Ros. This is how we honor our kin in this bloodline. Rosalyn saved you, Godric. For me. For all of us. You are my father and I could not bear to lose you. That you allow me to witness her turning is the greatest of honors. She deserves to know how important she is to this family. She deserves to be venerated." Amleth dropped his head again, then struck his heart with a closed fist – an ancient salute of fealty.

Rosalyn was speechless.

Godric remained very still. Minutes passed. "We lost Amleth's maker some time ago," he said in a whisper. "He was my first true friend in undeath. I helped him raise Amleth and I claimed Amleth as part of my bloodline centuries before our great loss. He is your brother, Rosalyn, in every way that matters." Both Eric and Pam dared not move. "The significance of what Amla has just done, Ros…" Godric was at a loss for words. "Other bloodlines do not have the same egalitarian rules that I insist upon. Quite the opposite. Lineage heads expect to control and dispose of their blood kin's possessions when and how they see fit. Amleth has just taken something deeply precious from his maker's family and though it should be his by my reckoning, he has taken it and given it to you - and therefore us." He looked at Amleth, who was still bent in supplication. "You are a true Goðríkson, child. May the gods bless you always."

Rosalyn tucked a tendril of Amleth's soft hair behind his ear and ducked down to catch his gaze. "How lucky of me to have two brothers." She ran her knuckles over his bloodied cheek. He gave a shattered smile. Her instincts automatically told her that he was older than Eric by centuries. "Lucky indeed, especially when I know that you can beat the crap out of our Viking brother when I need you to." He let out a weak laugh and gave her a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. "Thank you, Amleth," she said. "I'm greatly humbled by your gift, and I cannot wait to know you better."

Let him drink from you, Godric pushed at her through their bond. He wanted his newborn wife tied to the eldest and most politically powerful child in his family. Pam, well. Godric would reconsider that in the future.

Ros scooted closer to Amleth. Looking at her wrist, she tried to figure out how to make her fangs descend. She thought of the cups of blood and out they popped. She bit into herself and, not knowing any better, really jammed her fangs in and she winced. Offering her seeping arm to him, Amleth glanced at Godric, certain that this was not permitted. Godric nodded with a blink. The distraught vampire's jaw dropped. It was another great honor to be the first person after her maker to truly drink from her. Rosalyn held her breath, knowing what delicious bliss was coming. He quickly bit his own wrist so they could partake at the same time. When his silky fluid hit her tongue, she made a number of completely undignified sounds. Amleth carefully pushed her back after the wound closed to keep her from snapping at him.

"Oh my god! What is that flavor?" she asked, licking as much of his blood off her lips and knuckles as possible.

Godric chuckled. "There's a reason he's the vampire ambassador to the Fae, love."

Amleth shrugged. "I was a bastard Fae hybrid before I was turned."

"That is what a fairy tastes like? No wonder everybody is after Sookie!"

Within moments, she could feel another bubble of consciousness floating around inside her. Her bond with Amleth had bloomed. She pushed back his curtain of hair again and crooked her head. "Better now?"

"Much. Thank you."

"No, thank you." She turned to everyone. "Thank all of you. Your presence in my life is the greatest gift I could possibly receive. You've made this such a special night."

~OOO~

As they gathered up the burnt out candles and flowers, Eric looked around the cave and chewed his cheek. Godric was carefully packing up the treasures that were shared in Rosalyn's name. A rage came over Eric. "I'll fucking kill Thea if she tries to come after you, Amleth. Fuck her! She's no matriarch. She's an aberration of nature!"

"I renounced them all long ago." Amleth sighed in resignation. "They don't deserve the word 'vampire'."

Eric's face twisted into a bloodthirsty sneer. "They deserve nothing save the true death."

Godric looked up from the satchel he was arranging. He slowly straightened up and his eyes turned to a murderous black. In his softest of voices, which was his deadliest of voices, he said, "I will decimate them all for what they have done to us."

Rosalyn went wide-eyed at the open talk of killing people. She was both horrified and more than a little turned on to see her ancient husband so fiercely protective. Godric took a deep breath to calm his temper. "Forgive us, Ros. This is no time to speak of such sordid business on the night of your rising. It is a very deep wound."

"No, tell me. You've initiated me into this family, now treat me as such."

Pamela raised an eyebrow at Rosalyn's fiery attitude. She liked her style. She was going to become one hell of a vampiress. Amleth made a weary gesture. "It's fine. Speak of it."

Godric looked at Amleth, then at Eric and Pam, and at last to Rosalyn. "Let us wait until we are back home. I do not wish to sully these holy grounds with this discussion."

"Thea and her fucking Greek theatrics. It's like the worst fucking play you've ever seen!" Eric yelled and kicked a loose stone off the cavern ledge as hard as he could. It was probably well on its way to Colorado.

Godric put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. "Holy grounds, child." Eric clenched his eyes and slumped his large frame.

"You're right, Maker. Holy grounds. It's a shame this is part of a national monument," he said softly.

"Eric, you cannot buy every piece of land where a major event in our lives occurs."

He gave a wolfish grin. "I can try."

"Oh, for the love of the gods. Are you serious? You've already got the ball rolling, haven't you?" Godric beseeched the heavens for aid with his impossible Viking and Pam snickered at how her maker's antics bedeviled the old man.

Three days prior, the moment it was decided that Rosalyn would be turned here, Eric, Pam, and Amleth began hitting the stock markets hard. They also began liquidating useless properties and underperforming business investments left and right. They needed to recoup funds and fast. Bribing the governor of New Mexico and buying a majority vote in Congress so that the hill with its cave could be quietly annexed out of the park would not exactly be a cheap proposition. If they had not been talking about hundreds of well-guarded politicians, Eric would just as well have sent a team to glamour them all, but such an undertaking was not possible. He really wished he could get them to hand over the slopes in the valley below too, but that would never happen. People would notice.

"So," Pam said, hands on her hips. "Who's going to get me down from here?" Eric grabbed her, along with two bags, and leapt off the ledge of the cavern. Godric hitched his arm around Amleth's torso. "Be right back." He shot off into the sky.

With a moment to herself, Rosalyn dragged her hands along the dazzling cave walls to memorize them forever and reflect on the momentous things that had occurred here. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that going to a gala one night would lead to finding the love of her life and, as it turns out, her undead life, too. She could now continue her work in safety, for literally as long as she pleased, and at the side and with the aid of her beloved partner and new family. It felt like there was not enough space within her to contain such elation.

A crunch of gravel announced Godric's return. He had a dangerous, heated glint in his eyes. She bit her lip in anticipation, knowing he did not have to hold back as he once did. He pushed Rosalyn up against the stone wall and began smothering her with feverish kisses. "I want to ravish you right here, right now."

"Between a rock and a hard place, just as you promised," she teased. He laughed and she took advantage of his open mouth, licking and sucking his tongue. She let her fangs graze along it ever so slightly and the sensation on her teeth went straight between her legs. "Unf, oh god!" she cried.

"Mmmhmm. Isn't it amazing?" he said.

"Suck them," she begged. He twisted a devilishly talented tongue around each one and she came right then and there. He licked and nipped down the column of her throat and she squeezed his biceps as she grew more desperate. He jerked back to look at her.

"What?" she said.

He huffed a laugh and appeared almost confused. "You are quite strong for a newborn, love."

"Am I?"

He started laughing. "Yes!"

"Bah, you're just pleased with your handicraft."

"I am pleased with you. You might even be able to get the upper hand in bed if you try."

"Well, get me on that plane and we'll just have to see."

"You think I'm going to wait to have what is mine?"

"Do you think I will?" she countered.

He hiked her skirt up and, hitching her around his hips, sunk deep into her. He closed his eyes and said something in his ancient language. Rosalyn pulled at his hair and tried to get him to move. When he looked at her again, something feral in him had come unchained. He slammed into her and the sound of her ecstasy echoed through the entire canyon.

"More. Harder," she demanded.

He took her as he had wanted to all along – with the desperation he felt for her, with complete abandon. They found their release together over and over again until finally, panting, Godric let her slip back down to the ground. "I am going to do this to you every night until the end of time."

Sighing, she laid her head on his shoulder and they simply hold each other. "I love you, husband."

"And I you, wife."

It was with great annoyance that they had to leave. They were going to miss their plane.

~OOO~

"Congratulations to the happy couple and all, but we could hear you all the way out here at the airfield!" Pam hollered when Godric and Rosalyn finally boarded the plane. The entire wedding party had been more than a little privy to their joyful coupling.

Godric sauntered down the aisle and gave Pam a playful smack on the shoulder. "Deal with it, grandbaby," he said and kept walking. Eric tried to bite down his laughter, knowing exactly how much trouble his maker could be when he got like this. And gods had it been centuries since he had seen Godric in one of his impish trickster moods. Amleth had his face buried in Eric's arm and he was laughing so hard he had started to turn pink. Eric punched him in the leg repeatedly, and the more he hit him to try to get him under control, the harder they both laughed. Pam turned around and looked over the seat at them.

"You two can go fuck yourselves!"

It sent them over the edge. They doubled over, howling, crying blood tears. "You're just…you're just….hahahahaha…jealous that you haven't gotten laid in a month!" Eric managed to bite out before they fell back in peals of laughter.

"The pilot is furious, you know," she said to her grandsire over her shoulder. He and Rosalyn had gone to the back of the Gulfstream where they could snuggle up together with a tiny bit of privacy. Granted, there were only eight seats, but it was better than sitting next to the laughing loons. "We've been sitting on the tarmac for over an hour!" Pam added.

"Oh yeah? The pilot works for me," he called up the aisle. "You tell him to come back here and fight me." Eric completely lost it and fell out of his seat and into the aisle in hysterics.

Amleth toppled over and was laughing at him through the armrest. "If I could piss myself I'd totally have done so by now!"

"Ugh," Pam grunted and pulled out a fashion magazine. Eric was just barely able to claw his way back into his seat before they lifted off.

Chapter Text

When they arrived in Dallas, Rosalyn and Godric beat a hasty retreat to the master suite and put to good use the few remaining hours left in the evening. Just before dawn, Godric programmed the security system to recognize Rosalyn's palm. They descended into the dark antechamber. Her new vision allowed her to see that they were heading down a modern floating staircase. Judging by what she had gleaned from Godric and Eric's conversations, she had expected the space to be small, with just enough room for a bed and a closet. A bunker, in effect. How wrong she was.

Godric flipped on a set of switches and the space illuminated with soft recessed lighting. It was a large studio apartment – and quite a luxurious one at that. The color palette of the décor was similar to the room above, all greys and dark blues. A king size bed and armoire sat in one corner. The bedroom was partitioned off by a large wooden screen. On the other side was a sitting area with bookshelves and surprisingly, a tv. In addition, there was a kitchenette with a cleverly hidden fridge. It was stuffed to the gills with blood - for emergencies, Rosalyn supposed. There was also a beautiful bathroom boasting all the amenities, save for a toilet.

He tucked his wife into bed and slid in next to her. He watched her fall into her day death. How the gods saw fit to bless him with this creature, he would never understand. He stroked her rich hair and porcelain skin. She was a masterpiece. Ros did not remember being glamoured again in her weak state. She did not recall any pain, nor that he had pushed through the entire day and night and another day again to fill her with everything he had. Godric had turned her as he did Eric, except with the strength of an extra millennium. He was still so exhausted from the process that the sun claimed him not long after her.

Rosalyn woke disoriented, forgetting momentarily that she had slept down in the antechamber with Godric. An arm coiled around her and pulled her close. She turned to meet his soft green eyes. They gazed at each other, smiling. "I suppose we have to resurface," Godric said.

"Must we?"

He chuckled and hopped out of bed to fix them breakfast. "We gave you O neg last night. Both Eric and I prefer it, so we assumed it might be a trait in my line. Would you like to try something else?"

"Do we have time to experiment?"

"Of course." He proceeded to warm up eight bags of blood and create a sampler set for her. She liked the O negative and positive best, the A samples were fine, and she rather enjoyed the AB negative. Godric cringed when she went to try the glass of B positive.

"Eeesh," she said, making a face.

"We don't care for it either." He winced in sympathy for her. "I'll go ahead and warn you, don't try it in synthetic form. It's absolutely vile." A thought occurred to him. "Did you send those ridiculous Royalty Blended bottles to Eric?"

She bit her lip and her shoulders started shaking in silent laughter. Godric shook his head. "You know I ended up tasting that wretched B+? Disgusting."

"Sorry," she said, still giggling.

"You're not even remotely sorry. Here, finish the O neg and let's go upstairs. I believe Isabelle put your things in my closet. Pam already started supplementing your wardrobe. She cannot be stopped."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, knowing exactly how pushy the vampiress could be about clothing. Their fights over her ball gown had been epic but ultimately pointless. In the end, Pam's taste had been spot-on.

As they dressed, Rosalyn stopped Godric as he was pulling on his pants. "I know we're going to have a very serious discussion tonight. I don't want to feel completely clueless. Would you please explain that business about you nearly killing Amleth?"

"Ah, yes. His maker brought him to me thinking I might want to turn him. I flew into a rage that he would dare presume to choose a progeny for me and I drained Amla to the point that he should have died. Instead, he was turned."

"Look how that worked out. Now he is your child."

Godric gave a crooked smile. "Life has a sense of irony."

~OOO~

The atmosphere in the dining room was grim. It had initially struck Rosalyn as odd that vampires would bother with a dining room, but now she saw its true purpose. This was a war room. They gathered around the table. Godric sat at the head with Isabelle and Stan flanking him on either side. Eric was next to Isabelle and much to her surprise, Godric insisted that Ros hold down the other head of the table to demonstrate her new status. There were several other vampires in attendance whom Ros vaguely remembered from the disastrous night the nest was re-opened. They seemed to be here in some advisory capacity. Isabelle and Stan kept staring at her, astonished by Godric's decision to turn another child after so long.

Isabelle leaned over to Eric. "She feels like she's 30, maybe rounding 40 years old!"

Eric smirked. "Godric is a true elder, what can I say."

Amleth strolled in, apparently delayed trying to appease Sookie. Everyone in the house had heard her litany of complaints. She was furious about Amleth's absence, which was downright absurd. It was clear to any vampire with a nose that they were not romantically involved. Eric shot to his feet.

"Amla," he said, his tone unusually soft-spoken. "You don't have to be here for this. Why don't you go read or swim in Godric's wing?"

"It's not like this is news to me."

"Still." Amleth gave Eric a pointed look and pulled a seat out next to Pam.

Godric folded his hands on the table. "Now that we are all here, let us convene this meeting. First and foremost, I would like you to welcome my pledged and bonded wife, Madame Rosalyn. We are honored to have her at this table." Heads bobbed in acknowledgment and a few eyes grew wide hearing that they had married in a pledging ceremony.

"We are here tonight to discuss the matter of High Counselor Roman. His actions have directly and repeatedly assaulted my House and Line. Most of you here were witness to the most recent incident in which his minion, Derek Ronwe, entered my home uninvited and attacked Madame Rosalyn in my very own kitchen, leaving her with a severe demon scald.

"Allow me to review several points, as a number of you are not fully informed about the gravity of the situation. None of us are entirely sure of Roman's age, but he must be at least 3000 years old, maybe older. I did not know of his existence until the early 17th century when we crossed paths in Italy. Our encounter was civil and we parted ways on good terms. Eric and Amleth – whom I had long before claimed as my own by then - were elsewhere in Naples that evening. They assure me they saw no other vampires and were not tracked. Given their ages and skillsets at that point, I wholly trust their assertion. I believe Roman was not aware of Amleth's connection to me or of our connection to his original family.

"Why and when Roman became interested in attaining political power, I do not know. He had, to my knowledge, never held any prominent position or even controlled a fiefdom. No one sitting on the Council had ever heard of him. I do not know from whence he hails or who made him, nor do I have much information about his supernatural gifts. He is not known to have progeny, but this is merely a dangerous assumption."

"There ain't nothing worse than a wandering elder poppin' out of the fuckin' woodwork," Stan said.

"Indeed," Godric said. "Fast forward to France in 1824. Paris was chaos and buildings were constantly at risk of being burnt down or invaded by humans. It was no longer safe for vampires in the city. I arrived to assist the High Counselor," the name stuck in his throat, "Lucius Tarquinius Superbus in relocating the Council to London. Tarquin, as you may or may not know, was Amleth's maker."

"Superbus," Rosalyn repeated, the name sounding vaguely familiar. "Tarquin...the Proud? Your maker was the last king of Rome?!" She lurched forward in disbelief.

"Yes," Amleth replied. "But his human life was inconsequential. Mostly." His blasé attitude was completely forced. Rosalyn could feel Amleth wobbling and careening in their bond.

"The details aren't especially important here," Godric continued, "but suffice it to say that Eric was in London and Amleth and I were out of the city when the attack on Tarquin's life occurred." Godric paused and stared at his folded hands on the table, swallowing down a deadly combination of sorrow, rage, and staggering guilt. "He and three other counselors were murdered in cold blood, for what turned out to be a petty power grab by none other than Roman himself. Roman wanted the Council – our Council!" Godric slammed his fist on the table. Everyone stiffened. "The very governing body that Tarquin and I created to assert order over our kind! Tarquin served faithfully and judiciously for most of his undead life. And as if this usurpation was not heinous enough, it grows far, far worse. We soon learned that Roman had engineered this despicable crime with Thea – Tarquin's eldest daughter."

Gasps of horror were heard around the room. Isabelle looked petrified and even Stan turned a shade whiter. Eric was grumbling again through tight lips about 'how the bitch turned everyone's lives into a fucking Greek tragedy play' and Rosalyn actually wanted to vomit, so horrific was the thought. Everything in her new nature demanded that she protect her maker. No wonder vampires could not drop fang into their makers.

"Thea, along with her two youngest siblings, are guilty of a conspiracy which resulted in the death of their maker and my friend of over two millennia. All because Roman promised to make her regent of Athens." Godric paused. To this day it still sounded inconceivable. "I never trusted Thea and she resented me greatly for warning Tarquin that he needed to reign her in. To protect herself from my wrath, she filled Roman in on my association with Tarquin and Amleth's connection to her family. Then to directly provoke me, she killed two of her siblings – the two who refused to cooperate in her scheme and who, not coincidentally, were the only two that I favored besides Amleth. All these deaths of great and promising vampires and for what?"

"Dios mio and with Roman sitting in the High Counselor's chair…" Isabelle filled in the blanks.

"Exactly. Roman refused to pass a judgement of capital punishment for patricide." He looked across the table to Rosalyn. "There is no greater crime in our world than that which they have committed. It is an abomination."

Isabelle was outraged. "Even fratricide or murder of a Council member merits a death sentence! They are due the true death three times over!"

"She can't possibly still be in power," said one of the other vampires.

"She remains regent and she is now matriarch of Tarquin's line as well. One of the siblings she slaughtered was her elder brother, Arun."

"But why wasn't something done about this earlier, Godric?" Rosalyn said.

"Because no one knows. Roman explained away the counselors' deaths as a random act of vengeance – someone unhappy with a case verdict. Then he put a gag order on me and threatened Eric and Amleth's lives should I speak or act. My hands have been tied ever since; he's got the power and resources to make good on his threat. I have waited for an opportunity to take out Thea and her sisters and searched for a way to end Roman, but it appears he decided to make the first move and attack us. Attack you."

"Holy shit," she said. Goosebumps shivered down her neck and arms as she digested just how dangerous her situation had been.

"It is clear that Nan Flannigan and Ronwe had separate orders from Roman. I do not wish to ponder further what horrors Roman was planning had Ronwe succeeded in capturing you."

"So we need some really old fuckers to go in there and stake the bastard," Stan said.

Godric closed his eyes, praying for patience with his idiot assassin. "Stan, not everything is as simple as killing."

"He's right, though, grandsire. Why not get an elder to do the deed?" Pam said.

"And who will sit at the head of the Council's table, Pamela?"

"You could, Sheriff," Isabelle said. "You are a legendary leader and as prudent and fair as they come."

"Eric, instruct our assembly what I taught you in your fifth year."

"'A crown is nothing but a golden target on your head,'" he recited.

"Precisely. As our beloved friend Tarquin learned the hard way – twice. His first crown sent him into exile as a human, the second sent him to the true death." Amleth got up from the table and left. "Neither myself nor anyone in my bloodline will take a position higher than sheriff unless absolutely unavoidable. I forbid it."

Rosalyn could not believe she was seriously thinking about how to murder a high official. Two nights as a vampire and her peaceable ways were already out the window. Her hesitation was countered, however, when she considered that a human guilty the same offenses would face a similar fate. A criminal within the highest authority undermined the entire system. "So even if we could somehow deal with Roman, there's still the issue of who to install," she said.

"Exactly, Ros," Godric replied, masking how pleased he was with his clever wife. "I need to think further on who would be appropriate. In the meantime, we need to consider our options for resolving the Roman issue. Amleth needs to get the Stackhouse girl out of here at once now that Roman is interested in her. The Fae prince will protect them, but luring Roman to my door is the last thing I want to do."

The war party continued to talk strategies. The pain broadcasting from Amleth's bond grew until it became unbearable for Rosalyn. "Excuse me," she said and left the table. Eric was right on her tail. They walked briskly together through the hallways. "Eric, you know I abhor violence. But I don't think I get a choice, do I?"

"Not really."

"Why didn't Godric just flat out tell me 'oh by the way you're a pawn in the middle of a centuries-old blood feud and a 3000 year old vampire wants to abduct you and do god knows what just to piss me off'?"

Eric threw back his head and howled with laughter. "Because if Godric did anything straightforwardly, he wouldn't be Godric. Just trust him. He hasn't survived this long without reason. He reveals things at his own pace. It's unhelpful having people freaking out while he's trying to plan ten steps ahead. He's always told me that 'panic isn't a plan', and he's right."

"Am I in over my head, becoming vampire?"

"No," he said fiercely. "You have untold gifts and you have us."

"I'm realizing I might need to compartmentalize vampire politics from my hopes for inter-species relations. This is a dog-eat-dog world and frankly it's not so different from the university system. Just different tools."

"How so?"

"You need to teach me self-defense, Eric. Martial arts. Weapons. Whatever you know. I need to learn fast," she said.

"Yes!" He punched the air, giddy at the prospect.

"Wait, where are you headed?" Rosalyn realized that they were both going to Godric's private wing.

"To check on Amleth."

Rosalyn stopped dead in her tracks. Scenting him, a lightbulb clicked. Eric and Amleth were bonded - and quite heavily at that. "I see. Well, good. He needs us. He's in a bad way." Eric grinned, proud that his lillasyster was quickly learning how to wield her abilities. Far faster than average. Gods above, Godric's blood had grown inconceivably powerful.

They found Amleth in Godric's library, curled up in a chair. His back was to them and when Rosalyn came around to face him, her heart ached with pity. His face, neck, and the entire front of his shirt were covered in blood tears. Rosalyn and Eric squatted down in front of him. She put a hand on Amleth's knee. "How you doing?" she said softly.

"I'm fine. Leave me."

"Amla?" She tipped his face up with a finger. "This isn't what 'fine' looks like." She glanced at Eric. Quickly touching her shirt and hair, she thought at him what she was after. He got up to retrieve the items. "What can we do?"

"Nothing."

"I doubt that's true. Come on. Let's get you out of that shirt. I've been looking for a good excuse to get you naked," she teased. He huffed a humorless laugh. She helped pull his formerly white t-shirt over his head and she used the back of it to wipe his face and neck off. Eric returned with a clean shirt and hairbrush. Rosalyn took Amleth's hand and led him to the settee. He flopped down. Eric wrangled the fresh shirt on him and Rosalyn began brushing out his hair. "Before she died, my mother used to do this when I was upset. I always found it comforting." Eric settled in front of him, speaking another language in a low, fast whisper. Rosalyn wondered what it was.

Catalan, Eric thought at her. His speech did not falter.

"We should have been there!" Amleth cried and the pain in their bonds was gut-wrenching.

"And we would have all been dead," Eric said. "Instead, you carry on Tarquin's line with honor as do your progeny. We will avenge him. Of this I have no doubt."

Rosalyn set the brush aside. She had the distinct feeling that they had been having iterations of this same discussion over and over for 190 years. She tried a different tactic. Laying her head against his back, she wrapped her arms around him. Amleth immediately put a hand on her arm and turned to her. He buried his face in her shoulder. She did not try to fill the grief with words. She simply held him and rubbed gentle circles on his back. The rumbling anguish in him slowly flattened out. Over his shoulder, Eric raised an impressed eyebrow. After a half hour, Amleth let go and Rosalyn smiled at him, still pushing calm at him through their bond. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "Thank you, Ros," he said almost silently.

~OOO~

Several hours before dusk, Eric's cell started ringing incessantly. The shrill sound cut through his day death. The Viking did not respond well to being woken early. He reached blindly for the phone on the nightstand. Half-dead, he answered. "What."

"It's Desmond. Sorry to wake you. This cannot wait." Eric grunted, eyes closed. "The Underworld won't take Ronwe back. They don't want anything to do with him – he's disgraced himself by being enslaved by a vampire. Azrael let me know about an hour ago."

"Fuck."

"What do you want me to do?" the demon lawyer asked.

"Hold on." Eric switched on the light in the guestroom suite and staggered over to the fridge. He tossed a bag of blood in the microwave and downed a cold one while he waited for the timer to ding. "Okay. Can you…" He was so groggy he had not thought to check whether Godric was awake. "Godric's up, I'll put him on."

Eric really hated being awake this early. Making his way to the master bedroom, he let himself in. He scratched lightly on the antechamber door, bracing himself against the wall. His maker quickly came up. Eric handed him the phone and promptly collapsed face first on the bed, with one leg still hanging off. "Yes?" Godric said into the receiver.

"I take it your child didn't relay my message," Desmond said. He repeated what he had told Eric and Godric muttered some choice words in ancient Gaelic.

"Is it feasible to keep him locked up there until I make a decision?" Godric asked.

"Of course."

"Thank you. I will be in touch."

Godric opened the main door and sent the phone skidding across the carpet like a hockey puck. It bounced against the far wall at the end of the hallway. "Damnable tracking devices," he muttered. He set Eric's other leg on the bed and returned to Rosalyn downstairs. He would never tire of seeing her wake. He savored the moment those hazel eyes suddenly lit up his world. He curled around Rosalyn and waited the three hours until sundown, content to be wrapped in her scent.

The time passed quickly. Rosalyn's eyes popped open. Godric was inches from her face. "Good evening, lover," he said. She could feel his lust burning across the bond. Rosalyn trapped his lips and kissed him deeply, making him purr into her mouth. She threw the covers back and mounted him, pinning his arms over his head. The things she proceeded to do with her hips had him calling out to the old gods. He lifted his head, shocked at how turned on he had become by being made to submit.

"That's right, love," she told him. "You just need to lie back and let me get what I need." She adjusted her firm hold on his wrists and rode him hard and fast. She was so wet for him that her sweet juices dripped down the creases of his pelvis. He could feel how much she liked having her way with him and it excited him even more. He let her come on him several times before sending her more lust in encouragement. Her moans matched his and spiraled higher and higher in pitch until he could not help but meet her thrusts. They exploded in pleasure. She collapsed on him and started placing kisses on the barbed tips of his tattooed collar. Godric could not say why he found it so endearing. She had once spent an entire hour making sure she had kissed each one. Perhaps it was feeling so cherished, especially when each of those barbs represented a battle won or another notable feat. Every kiss from his Rosalyn was a victory.

"Was that alright?" she asked.

"It was…unexpected."

She sat astride him to get a clear view of his face. "Unexpected good or unexpected bad?"

He chuckled. "Very good. I was just surprised to like it. You really are a strong newborn. "

"I think it just excites you to see your progeny strong and wild like you," she teased.

He smirked. "Perhaps." She rolled off to his side and cuddled up to him. "You smell of Amleth."

Her face fell. "Oh god. I'm sorry. I'll go shower." He stopped her easily with two fingers.

"It doesn't bother me now. We only feel irrationally possessive of humans."

"Really? Why?"

"It is a crude metaphor, especially since we are most definitely not weres, but think of it like trying to take a bone from a dog's mouth. He'll growl and bite. Packmates are fine with each other, so long as food isn't involved."

"Uh, yeah, that is pretty crass."

He shrugged. "I only meant to say that I can tell you were comforting Amleth and I'm thankful you were there for him. I didn't have time to ask how he fared. You were asleep by the time I came down."

"He was a mess but he's fine now. Eric needs to learn to switch it up when something isn't working. Instead of talking him to death I just gave the poor guy a hug. It's not rocket science."

A ribbon of a smile threaded across Godric's face. "It is also not an intuitive thing for a vampire to do. Your empathy is no doubt the first of your gifts. It will be a powerful tool as it strengthens. It will earn you many allies." He ran his hand down the length of her arm and began toying with the large pearl on her finger.

"Did you make any headway on how to take out Roman?"

"No, although I have a shortlist of possible replacements."

"You could always put Nan Flannigan in," she said. The bed shook with their laughter.

"Rosalyn, we will have to make an announcement soon about your turning and our pledged marriage. It's best not to let rumors start and have notable vampires feel like they are being purposefully kept in the dark."

She hummed in thought. "How is that typically handled?"

"It isn't at all typical. As an elder in the nobility system with only one previous progeny and with you already being known to the community, this will be quite a sensation, I'm afraid. We will have to hold court. King Peter would happily host us in Austin, but frankly something this big ought to be in the vampire capital of the U.S."

"Please don't say New Orleans."

He scrunched up his face. "It will have to be New Orleans."

"I'm going to have to wear that god damned necklace!" she said between clenched teeth.

"Hmm?"

"Queen Sophie-Anne sent me this monstrosity of a thing. It's five pounds of emeralds and diamonds."

"Oh dear."

"Ugh." She stared at the ceiling, dreading the thought of another crazy ball – this time focused exclusively on them. A shadow crossed her features. She furrowed her brow.

"What is it?" he said. Rosalyn suddenly sat upright. "Is it Amleth? Is he alright?"

She held up a hand so she could think. "That's it."

"Talk. I can't read what you're thinking precisely."

"A ball." She ran her tongue across her teeth. "We'll invite Roman to our announcement party. He won't stop until he's killed someone or everyone in this family, right?"

Godric shaded his eyes behind long lashes. "Yes."

"You yourself said you were ready to slaughter everyone at the charity event to save Eric. You had all sorts of plans in place, right?"

"Yes. What are you thinking?"

"Sabotage."

Godric's eyes flooded black. "It's perfect." He started smothering her with kisses. "You perfect, brilliant, clever wife! And now we have two things Roman is after – Stackhouse and the demon. I got a call earlier today. The Underworld won't have him back."

"Call the war party. We need to get to work."

Chapter Text

The first thing the war party agreed upon was that they should not, under any circumstances, appear to be a war party. They needed to split up and return to their respective territories before whispers began to circulate. Though Amleth was Sheriff of one of the most important cities in the world, his multiple roles within the community often meant he had to travel. He was adept at running London through his smartphone with his two children on the ground to execute orders. His absence would be fairly unremarkable to underlings and visitors, but he needed to get Sookie away from Godric’s home, preferably by putting an entire ocean between them. With Pamela joining the family for Rosalyn’s turning, however, Eric and his Second in Command had effectively abandoned Area Five for the past three days.

“Thalia is pissed about having to manage the bar and run interference with your underlings,” Pam told Eric.

The Viking shrugged. “Thalia is always pissed, Pam. I’m sure she’ll be in a better mood when we tell her that she gets to help plan an assassination. Go pack. The plane will be ready within two hours.” Eric prayed no one had become suspicious and mentioned his absence to Queen Sophie-Anne. They needed to keep in her good graces if she was going to host Godric and Rosalyn’s wedding event with minimal fuss.

Godric prepared two bags of blood for Rosalyn when she woke. Once she had dined, she went to leave the basement chamber. He stopped her. “Sweetheart, I need to put a maker’s command on you.”

“What? Why?”

“The Stackhouse woman will be wandering around the common areas as she and Amleth get ready to depart. You haven’t been around a human yet. I don’t want you to accidentally attack her and regret it.”

“Right, crap. Of course.”

“This is going to feel a bit strange the first time you experience it. I’m going to tell you to not touch her and to stay as far back from her as you possibly can. Does this sound fair?”

“Yes.”

Godric spoke the magic words “As your maker, I command you…” and a tingling shiver electrified her spine.

Upstairs, Rosalyn entered the guest wing hallway to find Eric. She heard yelling in the suite next to Eric’s. Sookie was berating Amleth again for something. The blonde tromped out and gave Rosalyn a nasty look. Rosalyn slammed up against the wall to keep away from her, so impossibly strong was Godric’s compulsion. She stuck her head in Amleth’s doorway. “Amla? What the heck was that about?”

He shook his head and told her to come in and shut the door. She sat down next to him on the bed. “I am beginning to regret volunteering to take Sookie under my wing and we aren’t even in London yet. She is a complete pain in the arse.”

“She shouldn’t be rude to you when you’re trying to help her.” Rosalyn said.

“I’ve half a mind to shove her through a fairy porthole and let her great-grandfather deal with how demanding and judgmental she is. You’d think she’s known her whole life that she was a Fae princess. Until a few months ago, she was nothing but a dirt-poor, orphan hayseed from a dump in the middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe it’s best that you haven’t become romantically involved with her. She already acts like she owns you when it is you who are offering her your protection and financial support.”

“Just so, darling. Just so. The Fae are notoriously fickle and take joy in cruelty. She’s a quarter hybrid. My ancestry was more diluted. I lucked out and got most of the good Fae traits and none of the negative ones. She’s got another thing coming if she tries to pull this nonsense in front of my retinue. I hope Godric didn’t just hear her, although he probably did. He has zero tolerance for this sort of behavior. She and that idiot Compton deserved each other.”

“I’m sorry, Amleth. Maybe seeing how much bigger the world is will straighten her out and give her a bit of humility.”

“Let us hope. Otherwise it’s going to be me straightening her out. I don’t have time for that with all my other responsibilities. For all her claims about being ‘a proper southern lady’, she certainly does not behave with gentility.”

“I suppose you could always just turn her over your knee and give her the good butt whooping she needed about 25 years ago.”

Amleth laughed and Rosalyn wrapped her arm around his shoulder. He pulled her close. “My lovely girl. I will miss you. Would you like more of my blood before I leave?”

“No, it’s okay. Our connection will last a few months, right?”

“Yes. I’ll see you at your wedding announcement party and we can renew it then, just to be sure. It’s very important to Godric that we remain connected.”

She carded a hand through his unbelievably soft hair and smiled. “I’ll let you get finished packing. Do you need a hand?”

“No, darling, but thank you. I’ll say goodbye properly when we head out.”

Rosalyn slipped out. Sookie was waiting for her outside Amleth’s door. She jammed an accusatory finger into Rosalyn’s chest. “What were you two doing in there?” she hissed.

Rosalyn looked down at the finger poked into her breast bone and looked back up at the woman. “Get your hand off me.” She retracted as much as the hallway would allow, but there was not much space. She could feel her hunger rising, yet everything in her bones commanded her to stand down. “I was speaking with my blood-bonded brother, not that it’s any of your business.”

“With the door closed? You liar.”

“Liar? Ms. Stackhouse, surely you aren’t insulting and cornering a newborn vampiress who could annihilate you in a second. I suggest you go collect your things and get ready to leave.”

“You’ve got your own boyfriend. Leave mine alone.”

Ros felt how the ancient power in her veins reacted to such an empty threat. Her blood practically vibrated with laughter. “Good luck with that, Sookie. Amleth has no interest in your antics. He is not your boyfriend. He is your savior - and the only one you’ll ever get. The man you just had the audacity to call my ‘boyfriend’? Godric is over two millennia old and my pledged, bonded, husband and maker. You are here as his guest. Act accordingly.”

Sookie swore at Rosalyn and she got far too close into her face. The command placed on Rosalyn made her panic. She was physically incapable of pushing the woman out of the way so that she could escape. Both Amleth and Eric came charging out of their rooms. Eric was on the phone. “One second,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. “You listen to me, you little manipulative, useless bitch,” he barked at Sookie. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look directly into his terrifying gaze. At his full height, he towered over her, fangs bared. “I will send you back to your jerkoff relatives in a jug if you ever speak to anyone in my family that way again. You are nothing but a liability. I would have happily given you into slavery to Roman to solve our problems. You should be on your knees thanking Godric and Amleth that they are more merciful. Apologize to Rosalyn and Amleth for your rudeness. Immediately.”

Sookie glanced at the other three vampires and hesitated. Godric materialized at the end of the hall and dropped his head with a growl. He stalked towards the human-faeling slowly with his hands behind his back. Sookie shambled backwards until she bumped into Amleth, who took hold of her to keep her from fleeing. She had thought Godric to be a soft-spoken, sweet young man, but now she saw how wrong that was. He was a deadly, ancient predator.

“Who raised you?” Godric demanded.

“My..my grandmother,” Sookie stammered.

“She no longer lives, correct?”

“No, Mr. Godric, she passed away.”

“Start over. Address your superiors correctly. It is ‘Sir Godric’, or ‘My Lord Godric’, or preferably, seeing as you owe me your life, ‘My Liege Lord’. You will speak to me with the respect I deserve.” The flair of his power in the air made her cower.

“My Liege Lord Godric, I apologize.”

“You have not begun to give me the apologies I am owed. Your grandmother would liable roll in her grave were she to see how disrespectful her granddaughter is to those who offer to give her a life she would never otherwise have. Eric is correct. Beg your hosts for forgiveness.” Sookie started crying hysterically. “Save your tears. Beg for our pardon. Only then will I consider letting Amleth waste his time and resources protecting such a ridiculous, insincere flirt of a human girl. You have made preposterous passes at virtually every male in this household save for the gardener.”

Eric snickered. That she had dared lay her hands on Godric without his consent had not gone over well – not at all. She was lucky to be alive for such a transgression. Eric was not offended by her attempted flirtations, but he ignored them entirely. He had no interest in Sookie’s feigned naiveté and taunting tactics.

“We have already saved you once from becoming a blood slave to Queen Sophie-Anne,” Godric continued. “You’ve not the first clue what horrors await you should we send you to Faerie or give you over to a cruel vampire overlord who wants to abuse you for your telepathy and your body. We are the only hope your little life has and you dare insult my wife and my sons under my own roof?” Sookie sobbed more.

“Apologize!” Eric said in a bark.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Sookie cried. “Amleth, this has all been so stressful. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry, Ros - ”

“It is Madame Rosalyn!” Godric snarled in Sookie’s face. “She is Mistress of this nest and Area. She is the progeny of an Ancient Elder vampire of great nobility and she is my bonded, pledged wife. Correct your form of address!”

“Oh my God! I am so sorry! Madame Rosalyn! Sir Godric!”

“Your Liege Lord,” Godric seethed, ready to choke her. Eric touched his shoulder, hoping to keep him from killing her.

“My Liege Lord Godric and Madame! Forgive me!” Sookie fell onto her knees. “I don’t know who I am supposed to be anymore and I don’t understand the world I live in.”

Rosalyn threaded her arm around Godric’s. “Love? She knows no better. She still thinks she is human and she isn’t. I was ignorant about the supernatural world too, not so very long ago. Amleth will help get her up to speed.”

Godric pinched his eyes. “Amleth, I will only reiterate this once. You tell that damned Fae Prince that if he comes anywhere near this family, there is going to be another supe war and he will need an heir if he and I come face to face. I am done with his meddling. We serve no one and we do no one’s bidding other than for those in our bloodline. This?” He gestured at Sookie, crying on the floor. “This is not our problem, and no one has the power to make it so.”

Amleth bowed. “I understand, sire.”

Godric gave one last glance at the human woman. He forced her to her feet to face him. “Little one, when you reach your destination, you will not be so foolish again as to raise your voice or make idle threats at creatures whom are hundreds, even thousands, of years older than you. You will get yourself killed. Quickly. Most of our kind are nowhere near as tolerant and evolved in their thinking as those you see before you.”

~OOO~

At the entryway, Pam, Eric, and Amleth sat down their bags to say farewell to Godric and Rosalyn. Sookie waited awkwardly in the corner next to Isabelle, staring at the floor. Eric pressed his forehead against his maker and gave him a kiss. He hugged Rosalyn and moved to kiss her the same way. “Eric!” She thumped him on the chest.

Godric huffed a laugh. “It’s okay, Ros. He’s trying to give you a blood kiss. It’s a very special way vampires greet and say goodbye. Cut your tongue on a fang.”

“Yeah, uh, maybe another time,” she said. Eric shrugged, dropped a smooch on top of her head, and winked at her as he and Pam headed out the door to their limo.

Amleth paused and gave Rosalyn an enormous hug, rubbing his nose against her cheek. “Call me anytime. You have my number.” He embraced Godric by the arm, shaking in the Roman way, and Godric put a hand on his face.

“Run along, magpie. We’ll see you soon,” Godric said.

Sookie curtsied in front of Godric. “Thank you for your hospitality, my Liege Lord. I apologize again for being a less than ideal guest.”

“Remember my words. Respect and mind Amleth.”

~OOO~

The house was quiet with only Isabelle, Stan, and the occasional few underlings milling in and out. Godric was pre-occupied catching up on business, though he took time to show Rosalyn how the Area’s basic requests and cases were handled. She made herself useful by his side, listened in on all his meetings, and read quietly in the corner of his office. She and Pam spoke regularly on the phone, re-using much of the planning they had done for the charity ball to prepare arrangements for the wedding announcement party.

“Pam, can I ask you to help me with something I think you’ll enjoy?”

“Certainly, sweetcakes. What’s up?” Pam said.

“I’m going to text you a picture of a necklace. I need you to help me find a gown that actually makes this ugly thing look alright on me.”

Rosalyn snapped a shot of the necklace in its case and hit send. The line was silent for a long moment. “Where in god’s name did you get that?” Pam screeched through the speaker. “That’s vintage Bulgari!”

Rosalyn had anticipated her reaction. “No, Pamela, you cannot borrow it or wear it in public. Ask Eric – he has already decreed as much. Yes, I will let you try it on when we’re playing dress up. But I need a dress, Pam. Please help me. You’re so much better at this sort of thing.”

“Ros. Rosalyn. Ros. Seriously. Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes. It’s a giant emerald necklace that Queen Sophie-Anne gave to me and I have to wear it at my own wedding celebration even though I’d rather melt into a puddle and slide down a drain.”

“I am going to Paris. You’ll have a dress by the date of your celebration.” Pam hung up without further ado.

A few minutes later, her phone rang again. It was Eric. “What did you just do to Pam?”

“I may have asked her to pick out my wedding gown and told her she could try on Sophie-Anne’s jewels.”

“Oh, sweet gods. You just made her century. She’s bouncing off the walls.”

Nights went by and Pam called again, already back from Paris. Rosalyn’s custom couture Dior gown would be shipped as soon as it was made.

~OOO~

One evening, Isabelle came into Godric’s office with her phone. She had a very concerned look on her face. “It’s Roman,” she mouthed silently. Godric took the cell.

“What.” He listened for a moment and shot to his feet. “You…” He bit his cheek to keep from saying something ill-advised. “Yes, I will be there.” He smashed the end call button and dialed Eric. “Get here immediately!”

“What’s wrong?” Rosalyn said, looking up from her book. She had not really been paying attention when Isabelle had come in. Godric’s eyes were wild.

“No, Eric! Now!! You should already be in the sky!” Eric questioned him. “Why? Because Roman just summoned me to the Council under the auspices of wanting to formally congratulate me on my marriage and new progeny.”

Rosalyn heard Eric bellow “Oh, fuck!” on the other end of the line. Godric threw down the phone and grabbed at his hair. He rushed to a storage closet and pulled out a large handful of medical supplies. He jammed two IV catheters into each of his arms. “Ros, help me set these up.” She sprang into action and fumbled with the tangled IV lines to get the blood bags attached.

“Godric, talk to me. Holy shit, what is happening? Is Roman going to try to kill you?”

“No. He can’t now. It’s partly why I pledged marriage with you. Pledged, bonded pairs are more untouchable than one’s progeny, especially maker-child pledged pairs. There are only a few such couples in existence. Even he would be executed for hurting one of us. I haven’t had time to explain.”

“Why are you drawing your blood?”

“Here, squeeze my arms. We have got to get as much out as possible.”

Within ten minutes Eric stormed in, equally panicked. “When does he want you there?”

“By tomorrow. I have to leave immediately,” Godric said.

“Gods fucking damn Roman!” Eric said. “That motherfucker!”

“Somebody please explain what is going on!” Rosalyn said. “Are you in danger, love?”

Godric looked up. “No. He’s doing this to hurt you, without technically being the one doing it.”

“What? How?” she said, her voice rising an octave.

Eric growled as he massaged one of Godric’s biceps. “You’re barely a few weeks old. You cannot be separated from your maker this soon.”

“Ros, darling, go heat up two pints for me,” Godric said. “I shouldn’t be weakened while I’m flying so far and fast.”

She ran to the kitchen and was back in a flash. “Can’t I go with you?” she said.

“No. You were purposefully not invited. It is an official summons. I must obey.”

“You could take her to Amleth,” Eric suggested. “Then at least the distance won’t be so bad.”

Godric paused from sucking at his meal. “Absolutely not. There are far too many strange vampires roaming around his estate and Amla keeps human donors and pets. She’ll get hurt or she’ll hurt someone. I haven’t even taught her how to bite correctly yet, never mind how to do a live feed without killing. And I do not like Amleth’s security setup. You know we’ve fought about that for years.”

“Okay.” Eric thought quickly. “I’ll come with her and we’ll stay near the compound.”

“And have us all under Roman’s thumb? In his territory? Are you mad!”

“Alright. Okay. I’ll stay here and I’ll get her through this.”

Godric snatched Eric’s face and forced him to look into his eyes. “Eric, as your maker, I command you to care for Ros exactly as I would. You know how I raised you. I expect nothing less. You will not let her out of your sight. You will give her everything and anything she needs while I am gone.” He turned to his wife. “Rosalyn, as your maker, I command you to allow Eric to look after you. You will tell him anything that you require and you will keep him informed of how your health is faring.”

Eric pulled the bags filled with Godric’s blood off the IV lines and laid them on the desk. “By the Nine, I cannot believe Roman is doing this to us.”

“If I can find a way to kill him, I will,” Godric said.

“Take your sword.”

“They’ll just disarm me at the gate.”

Eric growled in frustration. “You could bait him into fighting you and get an execution order passed.”

“I’ve already considered it. It’s too much of a risk if he manages to off me first. The wedding party is much safer. Public, news crews, with allies to aid, in a palace and Area I know well.”

Godric crushed Rosalyn to his chest and kissed her hard. “I am so sorry, love. I am so, so sorry. Eric will explain more. I have to go now.”

“Please be careful!” she pleaded.

“You can’t wear that, Maker.” Eric pointed at Godric’s t-shirt and yoga pants. Godric swore in Gaelic and ran to his room to change quickly into a suit.

“Goodbye my heart,” Godric said, taking Rosalyn’s hands in his and kissing her knuckles. “It should only be a few days.” He snapped at the blood on the table. “Ration that carefully, son.” With that, Godric flashed out of the house and took to the sky.

Rosalyn was wide-eyed. Eric went to her and hung his head on her shoulder. “This is not going to be fun, lillasyster.”

“Start talking. What is the problem?”

He led her to the settee and sat her down. “You are going to get bonding sickness. I had it twice, once only for about 24 hours and again when I was around 35 and Godric and I were forcibly separated. I didn’t have his blood with me to help assuage it, nor a sibling whose blood and proximity could help.”

“What happens? What is it?”

“By the time he reaches the east coast, you’re going to start feeling panicky and distressed. Once he’s nearing Europe, you’re going to feel ill. The longer he’s gone, the sicker you’ll get. And Roman will no doubt try to delay him as long as possible. A similar thing happens if you disobey your maker’s call and don’t return immediately. You grow violently ill. The only shittier times I’ve had in my long life are when I had to re-grow a leg I lost in a battle and when I got jailed in a silvered coffin for killing a queen’s consort.”

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah. Double crap. Most progeny don’t get bonding illness after they’re 50 or have been released, but even after a millennium, Godric and I have had trouble being separated for very long periods since we’re so tightly tied. It’s not quite the same as true bonding sickness – we just feel stressed or agitated after a century. But it’s why he finally gave up and moved to the US.”

“I thought it was because you were running wild in New York.”

He laughed. “Well, that too.” Rosalyn pursed her lips and sighed. “Think about how life has been since you were turned, Ros. Godric doesn’t let you out of his immediate sightline. You have sex and share blood every night. Your new nature screams to have these two basic things.” Eric thought for a moment. “Do you have a vibrator?”

The question outraged her. “What?”

“A good vibrator. You’re going to need one. You know how ravenous feeding makes us feel. You cannot ignore this need, it will only intensify how ill you’re going to feel if you do. I doubt you want me to help you out like that just yet.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘just yet’!”

“Ros, we are blood kin - and permanently bonded ones at that. It will happen eventually. We are all intimate and share blood with each other in the bloodline at times.”

“Ugh, Eric.”

“Plus, I know you’re attracted to me,” he said conspiratorially. “You can’t deny it, dear bonded one.” Rosalyn socked him in the arm and went back to reading her novel. Near dawn, she started to feel exceptionally gross. “Come on, kiddo,” Eric said. “Let’s get you to bed.” He guided her to the secure bedroom and she collapsed into the sheets. To her shock, Eric plopped down next to her.

“Your travel coffin is in the armoire.”

“You need me right next to you. Put your head on my chest.”

“Eric, I am so not in the mood for your caddishness. Stop trying to seduce me.”

“Little sister, I am doing no such thing. I would never take advantage of someone against their will. I refuse to even use my glamour on humans in that way. Just lay your head down on my chest. The proximity to me will relieve some of the effects.”

Godric was rocketing through the sky and was over the Atlantic Ocean. Rosalyn put her head down and immediately felt relief. Eric wrapped his long arms around her. “I am going to end Roman for putting you through this. This is the last straw.”

“He’s screwed with my life twice now and I don’t even know what he looks like. I have to say, if I was on the fence before about violence to another, I am so down for seeing him fall now.”

~OOO~

When Rosalyn rose the next evening, she was shivering and had a sheen of blood sweat on her forehead. Eric was right at her side with a small measure of Godric’s blood. She drank it quickly and he toweled off her face and neck. Then he handed her a pint of O-neg.

“I feel nauseous. I don’t think I can eat,” she said.

“You must. Then take care of your other need. I’ll be upstairs.”

“I don’t want to get out of bed.”

“That’s fine. Call to me through our bond and I’ll come back down. You want me to bring your book?”

 “No. Maybe you can tell me a story or something? I don’t think I can focus on anything more.”

“Sure. Go feast and fornicate, little vampiress. See you in a bit.”

Rosalyn was rather annoyed that Eric was right. Half an hour later, she felt better. Eric returned and Rosalyn curled up at his side. Godric’s blood inside of him calmed her immensely. Eric was being so nurturing. She had no idea he could be this way. He had not been remotely this helpful when Amleth broke down. It spoke volumes about the gravity of her illness.

“You’re doing pretty well, all things given,” Eric said. “Our kind almost never sweat. It’s very worrisome.” He ran a hand down the length of her hair and stroked her back. “Story time?”

“Sure.”

He started chuckling at the memory. “Though Godric had a lot of experience helping others with their young progeny, he was squirrelly with me. He refused to help me get laid for over a month after he turned me. I already had a very high sex drive as a human and it radically increased after the transformation. It’s honestly been a pain in the ass to deal with sometimes. It’s partly why I started Fangtasia – there are always horny, willing meals.”

“So you’re saying you’re a giant manslut.”

“Total and unrepentant. I was going out of my mind with need as a newborn and I was still way too out of control to try to be with a human. I wasn’t more than a few weeks older than you. I had to kill four or five people a night to slake my thirst. It was because of my size. I required a lot of blood and it was a brutal winter in 750 C.E. Everyone in Sweden was starving and there wasn’t enough to drink for us two rogue vampires out in the countryside. I finally lost my temper one night after being denied again by Godric and I swore at him and told him he was a terrible maker. He cracked me over the head and left me for the entire evening and day, shutting down our bond. That’s when I first experienced bonding sickness.”

“Jesus. Why would he do that?”

Eric stretched and put an arm behind his head. “He was terribly afraid of forcing me to lay with him, and he was unsure whether he was influencing my own desires through our bond. Many makers used to turn children to be their servants or to be temporary lovers until they grew sick of them. Those vampires had no merits, save for two hands or a little beauty. None have survived. They were killed by their makers or killed by others. Godric made me because he didn’t want to see me conquered by death. He knew I had what it takes to survive the ages. He turned you for the same right reasons, Ros. He will do anything to protect the woman he loves and the one who revitalized his will to live.”

“I can’t believe he hit you.”

“Those were very different times. He has rarely punished me physically, but when he has, I’ve deserved it. He was far harder on Amleth, but that was 300 years before I came into the world. Godric was quite untamed back then - certainly not as stoic as he is today. I still thought he might lose it and kick the shit out of me at the charity ball. I was grateful that you intervened, but don’t you ever interrupt a maker chastising a child again. Makers have the right to kill you on the spot for interfering. More likely, you'd be heavily fined. It's a shameful crime, Ros.”

“I’m sorry. I won't make that mistake again. I guess I didn’t realize that you two…you know.”

“All makers and progeny do in the beginning.”

“Do you still?” Rosalyn could not believe she had never thought to ask if her husband still banged his first progeny. Vampires were so fast and loose with physicality. Godric had explained as much to her, but understanding the mentality was going to take a little more time.

“No, we haven’t in many decades.”

Rosalyn looked up at him. He had a distant, wistful expression on his face. “He’s still yours, too. When you need him, just ask me to step aside.”

Eric snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell him you’re offering him out. That would go over like a lead balloon. It is always his decision, not mine. He has total dominion over us. But thank you.”

Rosalyn laughed. “I think I freaked him out a little the other week.”

“What did you do?”

“Like you’ve been trying to explain, I am rather shocked too at how strong my sex drive is after the transformation. I tackled him and held him down and had my way with him. He said he was really surprised that he didn’t mind.”

A wrinkle crossed Eric’s brow. “He let you?”

“Yeah.”

“Ros…you must be so careful about that. Dominating him? He’s…He is very sensitive about that kind of thing. Has he told you anything about his early life?”

“No. He’s told me lots about his travels. Why?”

Eric groaned. Of course Godric had not bothered to say something. “It is not my story to tell and frankly, I strongly advise you not to ask him about it - ever. He gets extremely depressed when he has to revisit those memories. But I’ll say this: Godric needs to feel in control and safe. You’ve noticed what a total zealot he is about security. That applies to his own sexuality too.”

“What happened to him, Eric? Please, tell me.”

Eric hesitated. “I am only going to tell you this because it is very important. It stays between us. No exceptions.”

“Okay.”

“I will explain, but in return you will tell me why he hasn’t been sleeping. A secret for a secret.”

“He asked me not to say anything as a test of my loyalty. I won't break his trust.”

“He asked you when you were still human. We are blood kin now. We can say anything to each other and we are the only ones we can trust. He has not told you something critical about himself that you need to understand and he’s hiding something about his health which is critical for me to understand. Godric is as much our responsibility as we are his, my little bonded one.”

“Fine, alright.”

It was difficult for Eric to speak of it out loud. It took him a moment to gather the words. “Godric…was enslaved for the first several hundred years of his undead life.”

“Oh my god!” Ros gasped.

Eric shook his head in disgust. “He was violently, brutally raped and tortured by his master and whored out by the man to humiliate him. There were always plenty of disgusting people who wanted to use a beautiful youth back then, bunch of fucking pederasts. It is why even though ‘Master’ is the expected form of address to a maker in public, he forbids me to call him that and why you should never do so either.”

He sighed. “Just be very careful about dominating him in any way without giving him fair warning. He almost never allows it, and even then, only on his own terms. You don’t want to accidentally trigger him and have him flip out. Even he has his limits and he could hurt you without meaning to. His strength is inconceivable. A rapid flick of his wrist if he’s caught off guard shatters bone. I definitely learned that the hard way. Repeatedly. Especially when I’ve lost my temper and demeaned him or spoken cruelly to him. He despises it.”

“Well, I would never do that.”

“Like I said, we are very different, you and me. If you can believe it, I was even more of a hothead a thousand years ago. It’s still a good thing to know, so you’re not surprised when he goes savage crazy on somebody. He long ago became a pacifist and he doesn’t want to kill unless absolutely necessary, but things came pretty close before I got you two reunited. He beat the hell out of a couple of rude underlings. The entire nest was on pins and needles, he had grown so unpredictable in his mood swings.”

“I’ve never seen him like that. He’s only ever been gentle and giving to me.”

“Trust me, Ros, you will learn his dark side and quite soon, I imagine, given the present situation. Now confess, sister. Why is he not sleeping?”

Rosalyn looked up into her brother’s eyes. “Eric, I swear, if you tell Godric that I’ve told you this, I will stake you.”

“Poppet, I shan’t say a word. I simply want to know what is going on with our maker. He equivocated when I asked him.”

She sighed. “The sun no longer takes him predictably into day death. I think there might be other things, too. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I suspect some of the other limitations for our kind don’t bind him anymore.”

Eric ran his hands over his face. He had thought as much. Godric hid his powers, even from him. “Thank you. I knew he hadn’t been completely forthcoming.”

They lay quietly, pondering the mysteries of their maker. “You might want to talk with Amleth when you have a chance,” Rosalyn said.

“You’ve spoken with him?”

“We Skype once a week. He’s given me a lot of good advice.”

Eric nodded. “Amla was a great help to me in my early years - and many times since. He has always stood by me when it mattered.”

“He’s not been a happy camper with Sookie in his nest,” she said.

“Is Stackhouse still up to her same b.s.?”

“Big time. She can’t be glamoured to behave and she keeps being disruptive. Amla had to issue an edict that no one hurt her and that he alone would deal with her infractions against others."

"Gods," Eric groaned.

"Sookie just doesn’t want to acknowledge that we sometimes have to play by others’ rules. If she’s going to be sheltered by vampires, she’s going to have to accept conforming to vampire culture.”

“Godric didn’t overhear that discussion, did he?”

“No. I was down here.”

“Good. He has got to keep the peace with Prince Niall. I’m concerned Maker is nearing the end of his patience. The Fae are vicious fighters and are not to be underestimated. They need to stay in their own realm. The last war with them was very protracted. They killed a lot of our kind and nearly got Godric too. We do not want him getting wind that she’s still causing trouble or he’ll likely go solve the problem his way. And Ros?”

“Yes?”

“There are never happy outcomes for the perpetrators when Godric resolves a threat to our family.”

“I figured that out pretty quickly.”

~OOO~

The following day was a repeat of the previous evening, except that Rosalyn felt even worse and her sweats were now all over her body. Eric risked giving her slightly more of Godric’s blood and convinced her to drink two pints of O-neg. She choked them down.

“Ros, darling? Godric said he hasn’t yet taught you how to bite. He probably doesn’t care because it doesn’t hurt him much, but I remember how hard you nailed yourself in your turning cave. If you’re still biting that hard, it could easily snap a human’s neck on accident. We can practice, if you like. My blood will make you feel better as well.”

“Okay,” she said weakly.

He put his wrist in front of her mouth. “Start with the tips of your fangs and shake your jaw to create a vibration. You can also massage next to the spot you’re going to bite to help reduce the sting. You’ll feel the skin break and you can gradually add more of your fangs’ length. We don’t ram our fangs into people unless we want to make it hurt.”

She tried it and Eric’s sweet blood gushed into her mouth. The pleasure ricocheted in their bond. “Very good,” he said, once the wound sealed. “Now try my neck. Same technique. You’re going to bite me as though I were human. Never bite directly into the arteries in the neck or groin– it is a death blow. Bite around them. This won’t feel quite the same since I don’t have a pulse. You use the rhythm of the pulse between your teeth to know when to stop. When it starts to slow, that’s when it’s time to lick the wound to seal it.”

She crawled onto her knees. Eric craned his neck and she brushed aside his hair. She leaned in, nervous. Inspecting the arteries beneath the skin, she put two fingers down. “There?”

“Yep, that should do it. Remember, if this were a human, rub or lick the artery to get it to pop up more so you know precisely where to bite.” Rosalyn settled her mouth over his neck. His heady scent invaded her senses and the solid bulk of his body reassured her. Cradling his head in her hand, she slowly slid her teeth in. Eric grunted and she quickly pulled back.

“Sorry! Too hard?” she said.

“No. Too good. Keep going.” He pushed her head back down and she drank deeply. Eric panted underneath her. It had the same effect on her. The bite closed and she licked up the remaining tendrils, relishing the taste of his skin and the blood on her lips. 

“I spilled a little.”

“That’s ok,” he said very quietly, still breathing hard. “Try it again. Your color is already improving. This time, let me drink from your wrist.” She did and they both moaned, tangling together, so powerful was the charge from the exchange between them. Afterwards, they laid shoulder to shoulder, basking in the serenity rippling through their psychic connection. Eric turned and nuzzled her face, giving her several delicate kisses on her cheek. “I haven’t been this content in years,” he admitted, toying with a tendril of her hair. “I only wish you felt well.”

“Surely it’s like this with you and Pam.”

“It isn’t. She is my baby, but this is not the same.” He frowned. “I turned Pamela not long after Tarquin’s death – surely you’ve gathered as much by now. In 1849, right after the Second French Revolution. Amleth made his children in the same few decades following our family’s loss. Godric abandoned us and disappeared, he was so decimated by Tarquin’s murder. To this day, neither of us have any idea where he went.

“With Pam, it is my blood in her body. I told you that we always crave our maker’s blood most. Between you and I, we’re both getting Godric’s life force from each other simultaneously and it amplifies how intense it feels. Maker has only given Pam his blood once, when she turned 100. It has long since dissipated from her. I’ve never known the feeling of truly having Godric’s essence in another until now. I am undyingly grateful for it.”

“Why has he only fed Pam once?”

“Rosalyn.” He propped himself up to make certain she was paying attention. “Maker has very traditional views about sharing blood. Do not even think about giving yours to someone outside the bloodline without his approval. Poor Pamela…”

“What?”

He clenched his jaw, angry with himself and loathe to admit his mistake. “She won’t get the gift of his blood again for quite some time. I royally screwed up not giving her a command to help us with the charity event to spare her from his wrath.”

“Is that why you were so stunned and went haywire when you’d seen Godric had marked me?”

“Absolutely. It is miraculous that he decided he wanted us to bond as siblings and that I had the chance to taste your blood while you were still human. You were delicious, by the way. You’re even more succulent as a vampiress. But it also means that as fully bonded kin, if he and I keep sharing regularly with you in mutual exchanges, it might open up some of your supernatural gifts far earlier than one would expect. Our own powers may transfer to you.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind getting to fly.”

“It’s amazing. I didn’t acquire it until I was about 500. Pam might, one day. We’ll see. Amleth can’t since he’s adopted, but he’s a super-fast runner and has unique gifts because of his heritage.”

“Like what? Can I ask?”

“Ask me anything, anytime. But we don’t tell other supes these things and certainly not humans. If Godric is hiding his own powers from me, then it should be clear to you that this is a crucial rule he has established for our House and Line. It is better if rumors circulate or others simply don’t know what we can do. It becomes a tactical advantage in conflicts. When Godric showed you he could fly, I knew that he was totally sold on you.”

“It was amazing to touch the clouds.”

“Flight is quite a rare gift. There are very few that have it. But Amla? He’s the only vampire I’ve ever known who spellbinds everyone at the sight of him. It’s not just because he’s easy on the eyes. It’s the Fae in him. No one can stop looking at him when he’s in the same room. It makes him seem even more extraordinarily charming than he already is and it’s annoying as hell when you don’t want to be distracted. You’ll notice that Godric often avoids making eye contact with him if he’s working and trying to concentrate.”

“Huh. Neat. Godric showed me his fire gift the first night we arrived here. ”

“Holy shit, he did?”

“Yeah. He lit all the candles upstairs. Do you have it?”

“He hates that one! We are so susceptible to fire. I think he’s afraid he’ll burn himself up accidentally. I can count the number of times I’ve seen him use it on one hand. He must have really been trying to impress you. No one has that ability but him. It is an ancient gift that has died out from our kind. Gods, I hope I never get it.”

Ros laughed. “Eric, thank you for teaching me so much tonight. I really appreciate it. It’s nice that you can be so open and candid with me now. And thank you for your blood. I don’t feel like I’m going to puke crimson now.”

“You are most welcome. You can always come to me, baby girl. That’s not Maker’s order speaking. I mean it. You come to me, Ros, whenever you need absolutely anything.”

Her brow drew up in a wrinkle of concern. “Why hasn’t he called us, Eric?”

“He’s trapped in an underground conference room listening to whatever drivel Roman is spewing. The Council facility is a completely locked down fortress on its own power grid. He’s closed our ends of the bonds so that we don’t worry about whatever is happening there. He’ll let us know how much longer when he’s ready.”

Ros crawled closer to him. Eric did not like her pallor and her scent was underscored with a slight sickly sweet odor. “Tomorrow I’m going to get a donor for you. Maker will be pissed off if he finds out, but fresh blood is more rejuvenating than bagged. Microwaving the latter destroys some of the nutrition we get from it.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay drinking from a human?”

“I’ve got a plan for that.”

~OOO~

The third night was appreciably worse. Rosalyn was shaking and sweating and chattering and her skin had taken on a greenish hue. Eric measured out the same amount of their maker’s blood and looked at the half empty bag in dismay. “Do you want some of mine too?” he asked.

“Please,” she said.

Eric let her feed on him until he grew woozy. He had to drink three pints to feel semi-normal again. He then called up the Dallas branch of Elite Bite. “The Sheriff needs a donor tonight. Male, someone who has never been used before and is preferably a B-pos or B-neg. He needs to be well-trained in protocol for feeding a newborn. Send me a selection that fit the bill and I’ll let you know who he wants.”

When someone from Sheriff Godric’s nest called the company, the employees did not dilly dally. In under a minute, Eric’s phone pinged with a message containing a number of pictures. He broke into a huge grin when he saw exactly the right fit. This was going to be grand.

Around eight o’clock, Stan rang up to let Eric know the kid was at the gate. “Send him through,” Eric said. Isabelle ushered the donor in and Eric met him in the sitting room. The young man waited politely with his hands behind his back until invited to take a seat. “Good evening, Michael. My name is Eric Northman. I am the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Five. My maker is the Sheriff here in Dallas and one of the oldest vampires in existence. You will be feeding my blood sister whom is very new.”

“I am your most humble servant, sir,” the boy said with a shy smile.

“It goes without saying that it is quite an honor for you to serve our family as your first client. Should you do well, I will write you a glowing letter of recommendation that will ensure you only ever work for the most aristocratic and wealthy customers in the nation or, if you like, in the world.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“I am not going to glamour you afterwards. Let me be plain, newbie: you are being tested."

"Very well, sir."

Eric nodded, pleased to observe the young man understood formal protocols. "If you disclose who your client was to anyone in the next three weeks, I will make certain you never work for vampires again in any capacity. I can make your life a charmed one, Michael, full of palaces and fancy gifts and private jets. Or I can make it a living hell. You will know in three weeks why your silence is of such importance. There will be a big news story on tv and in the papers about our family. Once you see that, feel free to brag that you fed me. This is critical. You fed me, Eric Northman. Then you will receive your letter and go on to great success.”

“Understood, sir. I will speak to no one until I see the news in three weeks and I will say that I fed you, Sir Northman.”

“Alright, son. Follow me.” Eric led him to the main office and told him to wait and touch nothing. “Do not disrobe. This is only a feeding.” He paused. “Are you really twenty-five?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael gave him his birthdate.

Eric shook his head in amusement. “I could have sworn you were younger.” As he walked down the private corridor, Eric could not hide his smile. He went to Rosalyn in the master suite. Her color was still off despite how she had just glutted on him. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, nervously wringing her hands. Eric knelt down in front of her. “You’re going to do just fine. I’m going to hold you the entire time. He’s a B-pos, so you aren’t going to get too crazy. We both know it tastes like hot dog hair. It still will be very enjoyable.” He grinned like a fox. Oh, this was going be grand indeed.

Eric kept one of Rosalyn’s arms in a vice-like grasp as he walked her down the hallway. When they reached the office door, Ros gasped and spun to look at Eric. “Where the…?! What?!”

He bellowed with laughter. “I thought this one might be your type.” The young man bore a striking resemblance to Godric. His hair was much darker and his nose was a bit different, but the similarity was uncanny.

“Good evening, Madame. My name is Michael,” the donor said.

“Go to the desk and sit on your hands,” Eric ordered. “You are not to touch her under any circumstance.” He adjusted his hold on Rosalyn so her arms were pinned behind her back. He placed a hand around her neck and walked her forward across the room. “Just as we practiced. Take it from the neck. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Ros gulped as she neared the human. Her hunger burned like a flame in her throat.

“Left side or right, Madame?” the donor asked.

“Left,” Eric answered for her. That was where she had practiced with him. Michael turned and Rosalyn saw the rich blood thumping in his artery. “Slowly,” Eric reminded her. “You’re his first, too.”

Rosalyn closed in and the young man’s hot scent maddened her thirst. She licked the artery as she had been instructed. He was salty and sweet, nervous and excited, and so, so warm. Eric checked over her shoulder to make sure she was going to hit the correct place. “You’re right on target. Whenever you’re ready,” he said. She sunk her fangs in. The donor sucked in a ragged breath and struggled to keep his hands from reaching out to touch the beautiful woman. As she fed, he made little gasps and grunts of enjoyment that reverberated in her fangs. Rosalyn grew playful and let the wound drip down so she could lick the drips back to their source over and over.

Eric laughed out loud. “Lillasyster! You feed like Maker!” It was hilarious. She had not fed on him at all that way. She must have learned it from Godric before her turning. He pulled her back when she had taken a little over half a pint. Rosalyn came away glaze-eyed and crimson-lipped. “Beautifully done,” he said with pride. He turned back to the young man. “Madame Isabelle will show you to the donor bathroom so that you can clean up. Be sure to wipe your entire neck and cheek with rubbing alcohol to remove her scent. Wait for me in the sitting area.”

“Have fun?” he whispered into Rosalyn’s ear as he escorted her back to the master bedroom.

She landed a bloody peck on Eric’s cheek. “Can I have him again tomorrow?”

He chuckled and agreed. “I’ll arrange it.” He wiped the smear off on his cheek and tasted it. “Hmm. Not actually too bad. He must carry the O recessively. It’s homozygous BB that is simply raunchy.”

Eric returned to the sitting room where Michael waited, clapping. “Bravo, young man. You just made yourself into one very rich human.” Eric pulled out $300 from his wallet for a tip. It was three times the usual amount. “Take a B12 vitamin tonight and drink lots of water. She’d like to have you again tomorrow.”

“Really?” he said, his face lighting up. Eric started bouncing in laughter again. “Gods, you really do look a lot like him. If you dyed your hair lighter you’d be mistaken for brothers.”

“Who, sir?”

“Our maker, Godric the Great, the Lord of this Land.”

“Oh! I’d be pleased to meet him.”

“No. That is a horrible idea, unless you return to feed one of his underlings. Only then might he get a kick out of it. Listen to me carefully, Michael. If you must tell someone, you’ll say that you fed me as we discussed. But if for some reason you do end up back here, Sir Godric will notice immediately that you are familiar with the estate. To him, you say instead that you first came here to feed Madame Isabelle, his Second in Command.” Eric eyed Isabelle and she blinked in agreement. “Under no circumstances do you share that you fed one of his progeny. He does not approve of donors and you do not want to cross a 2300 year old vampire – especially not this one.”

“I see. Maybe better to not say a word at all.”

“Smart boy. Remember, loose lips sink your ship.” The young man nodded vigorously. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the same time, unless otherwise notified.”

Michael stood to leave with Isabelle and Eric turned, thinking of something. “Why did you decide to become a donor?”

“I want to go to med school.” He shrugged. “I got accepted but had to delay my matriculation. Med school is expensive. I hadn’t thought to try out donor work until I was spotted by a recruiter. It seemed like a well-paying, interesting job. I think it’s great your kind decided to come out of the coffin.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. The kid was actually decent. Most donors were in the trade for all the wrong reasons – greed, rough sex, more greed, danger, a hope to get turned.

“Have you heard about the new vampire university, sir?” Michael asked. Eric smirked. Oh, had he ever. “Do you think maybe it will have a medical program? It would be awesome to train supernaturals in science after I graduate so that our species can help each other.”

“That’s a fine thought, lad. I will look into it.” Little could the human know that vampires had worked in biomedicine since it was first conceived of as a field. Medical jobs provided a very easy way to get a hold of blood. Godric had been an excellent trauma surgeon during the First and Second World Wars. The boy’s notion, however, was incredibly lucrative. The wheels in Eric's head began rapidly turning. Creating a way to legally license the vampires working in medicine could generate billions of dollars.

Michael gave a kind smile. “See you tomorrow, Sir Northman. It was a pleasure serving your sister.”

~OOO~

“Oh Frejya help us!” Eric swore when he rose the next night. The sheets were soaked in Rosalyn's blood and her pallor looked like a week-old corpse. She was far, far too young to have to endure this. At thirty-five he had not deteriorated anywhere near as quickly. It had to be because Godric’s blood was now twice as strong. Eric cursed Roman again. He started running the tub with hot water and readied the blood for Rosalyn’s breakfast.

As if his evening was not already going to be rough, Pam called and made it a hundred times worse. “How is Ros doing?” she asked.

“She suffers greatly, Pam. This can’t go on for any more than a few more days. I’m considering asking Russell Edgington for help. He could call the Council with some nonsense about how he needs Godric’s help for a problem in his territory. He’s the only one close enough in age who can strong-arm Roman into releasing Maker.”

“Eric, that is seriously dodgy. You and the King hate each other after all that mess with the border.”

It was true. Eric and King Edgington did not get along. After the economic recession, refugees from the Mississippi kingdom came streaming into Eric’s large swath of Northern Louisiana. They were unable to pay their fealty taxes to Eric while they resettled, which in turn got him into a fight with his Queen. Edgington refused to split the difference of what needed to be paid to Sophie-Anne.

“Godric is already planning on reaching out to Edgington for support at the wedding party. This might make getting him on board easier,” he said.

“He’s a loose cannon and you know it. Besides, we’ve got a major problem.”

“Odin’s beard. What?”

“The Queen overturned Compton’s banishment and the little weasel is back. Sophie-Anne wants to know why you’ve barely been in your Area and Compton is sniffing around for her.”

“That rotten bitch! She knows exactly why! I’ll fix this. Keep a close tail on Compton and send me the reports. I’ll find a reason to deport his ass to the moon.”

“Or just stake him.”

“Do not issue any edicts on him, Pam. You let me handle him.” When they were through, he called the New Orleans palace.

“Andre speaking,” a voice answered.

“It is Northman. Put the Queen on,” he told Sophie-Anne's child and Second in Command.

“She’s occupied at the moment.”

“Andre, you put the fucking Queen on right now or I am going to snap you like a twig when I see you in three weeks!”

“You’re such a savage, Viking. Here she is.”

“Northman! So lovely to finally hear from you,” the Queen trilled in a false note.

“Sophie-Anne, I am presently handling a family crisis. Roman ordered Godric to appear at the Council and Rosalyn is sick as a dog with bonding illness. If you think you’ve got the clout to get the High Counselor off our backs, be my guest. Spoiler alert: you don’t. I’m in Dallas caring for Ros and that’s where I’m going to be until this is over.”

The silence on her end of the line was deafening. “Goodness, that is serious. The issue I have, Eric, is that you have your baby vamp running the second most profitable Area in my state after my own.”

“You already know that I was commanded to be present at Rosalyn’s turning.”

“As was Pam, I’m told. An Area with no acting Sheriff isn’t really much of an Area, is it?”

Fuck. This was exactly what he did not want to hear. “You are already getting enormously paid off to host us. Again. All my family does is improve your reputation and fill your coffers. I’ll throw in another $100k for this year’s annual revenue if that satisfies you. Build another ‘sun’ room or something.”

“$200,000,” she countered.

In the background, Rosalyn was starting to wake. She moaned with her eyes closed. Eric did not have time for this. “Fine. Deal. Now cut the shit and stop complaining about Area Five. Compton couldn't find his own dick if he tried and it’s sewn on. There is nothing to ‘find’ in my Area anyways. I do not know why you keep antagonizing me by sending him into my territory to spy and plot unsuccessfully.”

“Because your territory is my concern, far more than yours.”

Eric bit back a growl. He needed to get to Rosalyn. He pulled out the big guns. “You do know the edict to ban Compton was Godric’s, not mine, right? Are you prepared to have that cage rattled when I tell him? You want to find him on your doorstep, furious? Because I’m pretty certain that is every vampire’s worst nightmare.”

He could hear her swallow nervously. “No, no, Eric. That won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Then back off.” He hung up. Rushing to the bed, he scooped Rosalyn up along with the ruined sheets. “I’m putting you in a warm bath, dear. Your sweats are severe today.” She moaned again. He laid her onto the bathroom floor and stripped her down.

“Eric!” she whined and glared at him.

“Oh, hush. I’ve seen you naked plenty, boinking with Maker like a bunny." She struggled weakly at his hands. "Damn it, Rosalyn. Stop wiggling. We’ve bonded our souls for all eternity. Our bodies are but fleshly vessels for something far more profound. I helped Godric wash you of your death fluids before you rose, for the love of the gods! Just let me take care of you as you’ve been ordered! This is getting desperately bad!”

He slipped her in the warm water and quickly got her a cup of her maker’s healing elixir. She polished it off and grew a little more lucid. “Godric had you bathe me while I was turning?”

“Yes. What part of ‘take care of her exactly as I would’ was unclear? He trusts me completely!” The snap of hurt from her stung him too in their bond. “I’m sorry, baby. I just had to ream out my Queen and get soaked yet again for more money for her greedy coin purse. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

Eric gently massaged shampoo into her scalp while Rosalyn washed herself unsteadily. When he finished, he bit a deep gash into his arm and fed her. Eric let her gorge until the room started spinning. Stumbling into the other living area, he downed cold blood straight from the fridge. There was a splash and the thwack of wet feet on the tile. Rosalyn came out in her bathrobe. “That was too much! Are you okay?”

“Ithss fthiiine,” he said, a cold bag between his lips.

Rosalyn collapsed back into bed. Eric went to her and held her damp body closely. “You will survive this. We will get through this together. Your donor is coming in less than an hour.” She buried her face into his chest and began to cry.

Eric Northman almost never felt pity. But this was awful. Neither he nor Pam ever had to experience anything close to this severe. Only prolonged death by massive silver exposure was worse. Burning in the sun was quick by comparison.

When Michael arrived, they repeated the same procedure. Eric chose to be a selfish jerk and let Rosalyn feed longer than strictly wise. The kid had to lay on the couch to re-cooperate. Isabelle and Eric plied him with Gatorade to get his blood sugar back up and they had a nice conversation with him as they passed the time. Michael did not seem to mind too much about being overfed upon when Eric told him he would have his company deposit double the usual fee into his account as hazard pay. Isabelle was about to drive him home safely when Godric blipped on Eric’s radar. And he was close. Gods damn it. This scenario was exactly what Eric had feared might happen.

He grabbed the donor by the neck to ensure none of Rosalyn’s scent lingered on his skin. “Ros, get downstairs. Now! Rinse your mouth out well so you don’t smell of this boy’s blood and drink all but a quarter of the second bag of Godric’s. Hurry!” Eric said. He and Isabelle shared a look.

“I will cover for you, I swear,” Isabelle said.

“May you always be blessed. I owe you, Isa.”

In less than fifteen minutes Godric strolled in and slammed the door shut. Isabelle was on the couch with her arm draped over the donor. “Oh, thank heavens you’re back!” she said.

Godric jutted his chin at the kid. “Who’s this?”

The young man sat up feebly. “Hello, Sheriff. I am Michael from Elite Bite. I’m very honored to meet you.”

Godric balked. “You’re not feeding from Hugo anymore?” he said to Isabelle.

“Hugo needed a rest. I took too much from him last night,” Isabelle said.

“Looks like you overcooked this one as well.”

“It’s been the stress of your absence. It’s funny. Doesn’t he look a bit like you?” she said.

Godric cocked his head and the boy smiled shyly. “Quite. How odd. I was never your type.” It was why they worked well together.

She shrugged. “I’ve missed you. It was comforting. Go to Rosalyn, Sheriff. She’s been so sick.”

“Have you been tipped, young man?” Godric asked the donor.

“Yes, sir. Madame Isabelle was very generous,” Michael replied.

“Very well. Have a good night.”

Isabelle held up a finger to keep the boy silenced until she heard the master bedroom door close.

“We do look similar!” he said in a loud whisper.

“Wait here a moment.” She pulled out $200 from the purse in her office and handed it to him. “For your silence. Discretion is something our kind values very highly.”

“Thank you very much, Madame.” He added the cash to the rapidly growing bulge in his wallet. “Please feel free to call me if you’d ever like my services.”

She chuckled softly. “I just might, little one. I just might.” She led him to the garage and switched on the lights. The fluorescent fixtures plinked on one after the next, revealing a long row of gleaming cars. “Which one would you like me to drive you in?”

Unsurprisingly, Michael picked Stan’s stupid banana yellow Lamborghini. Isabelle rolled her eyes. Men and their toys. Some things never changed.

Chapter Text

Eric cradled his tremendously sick sister, trying to comfort her agony. He and Rosalyn quickly agreed as they fled into the bedroom that they would overact the scene to hide their tiny lie about the donor still upstairs. But when Eric's arms closed around her, there was no exaggerating what he felt through their bond about the state of her health. Rosalyn was desperately ill and her suffering was obvious. "Oh, Frejya save you! You poor child!" he cried.

She was in horrid pain. This adorable, sweet creature had been given to him by his maker after a thousand years. This was his eternally blood-bonded sister. She was the sole daughter of Lord Goðrik the Great, Ruler Eternal and Eric was her Prince. Rosalyn belonged to Eric in a way no other could claim. And he had grown more than a little smitten with her. He loved her. He clung to Rosalyn and he kissed her deeply. She resisted, twisting away. "Eric! What the hell!"

"Maker is almost here."

"I know. I can feel him, you donkey!" She thunked his chest weakly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Kiss me, baby girl. Right now! Gods, Maker is furious. He's already figured out that the donor wasn't Isabelle's and he is about to thrash anything that comes his way. Hurry!" he said. "Just kiss me! We cannot disobey him!"

Eric was thoroughly panicked. Rosalyn felt the same urgency. The command over her to accept her brother's care was freezing her body into stone. The similar command on Eric had sent him into a total frenzy. Godric's power filled the air with fury. It coated the hallways and corridors with rage incarnate. It was terrifying. Rosalyn was full of dread, but still she hesitated. "I don't know why our blood bond makes me feel this way. I don't -"

"We are of one blood. We are one! Right now, god dammit! Kiss me so he knows I've taken care of you!" he pleaded. "He needs to smell more of my scent on you so he knows I've done what he's ordered me to do."

Rosalyn suddenly gagged and wrenched up. She vomited a sheet of blood down her bathrobe. "Oh, holy fuck! Okay. It's going to be okay. Maker is still on the other side of the estate. Let's get you cleaned up. He cannot see you like this." Eric pulled off her terrycloth robe and wiped down her chest with it. "I'm going to run upstairs to get you something else to wear. I'll be gone two seconds." He rolled up the robe and set it next to her. "If you feel nauseous again, aim into this."

Eric ran to the upstairs master bedroom closet and swiped hangers left and right. He knew somewhere there was a Meiji-period blue silk uchikake wedding kimono that was heavily embroidered with cranes and branches of cherry blossoms in pure gold thread. It was an extraordinary garment. He and Godric had swiped it from the Japanese dowager empress. He saw it and tore it off the hanger, ripping off the plastic sheeting covering it.

He got Rosalyn into the gown. The furisode sleeves and the hem were too short for her – people were smaller back then - and the robe should be worn with several other kimonos layered beneath it and sashed at the waist with an obi belt, but he has no clue they are. Probably up in the attic storage. At least Rosalyn now looked like the Goðrik’s Queen, as she should.

Eric quickly weaved her hair into an asymmetrical braid. He pulled up his shirt and rolled on top of her, rubbing his scent all over her chest. He yanked on the tail of hair he had woven and forced her to his face. "You will kiss me now. Let me put more of my smell on you, for the love of Odin!" Rosalyn yielded and opened her mouth. Her hand accidentally ran up his washboard abs as their mouths touched and good Lord, his body felt insanely good.

"Gods syster!" Eric gasped, drawing back, stunned. "You taste like the sun, the wild wind running through sand and stone, and Maker."

Godric was tearing down the private wing and was nearly there. "You…" She was equally overwhelmed. Rosalyn stared into his icy eyes, taken aback by what their bond did when they were close. "Eiríkr…"

He had no idea how she learned his true name. Eric rocked his beloved sister in his arms and began singing an old skald's tale.

No one, absolutely no one - beyond the few vampires in their family - knew that Eric Northman had a beautiful singing voice. Even then, it was only something that his kin heard once or twice every several decades, if they were lucky. He did not share this talent.

The antechamber door clicked and pushed open. Godric nearly stumbled down the steps when he heard his child singing a Norse lullaby below. The deep, lilting rumble of Eric's voice retold a story of triumph over death. It was the same song Eric had been singing when Godric stole him off his funeral bier and turned him. Between the haunting, baritone sounds, Rosalyn was weeping. Godric's feet moved in a blur down the stairwell. "Oh, my dear gods!" he gasped. He rushed to her and leapt onto the bed. "Ros! My love, my wife!" He tried to take her out of Eric's hold but his first child protectively snatched her back. Godric threw his arms around both of his progeny.

Rosalyn looked up at her husband with bloodshot eyes. "Love. You're here," she said, drooping.

"How…How…" Godric could not finish the question. Eric understood. Almost nothing scared the Viking. Nothing except for love, because shit like this could happen and it left him terrified. It was intolerable. Rosalyn was deathly green and weaker and sicker than a young vampire should be after only four and a half days apart from her maker. Godric tore open his wrist and began feeding her. He and his first child stared at each other as she nursed Godric’s blood.

"I have never seen anything so severe," Eric whispered in his ancient dialect of Old Norse.

"I have. But only after months. Months and months of torture. Children this ill usually go into the sun rather than continue."

Eric pointed his chin at the bathroom. Godric looked over his shoulder and saw the blood-soaked sheets on the tile floor. He had to put a hand down on the mattress to steady himself. The sight nearly caused him to faint. It was not blood sweat on the linens. It was blood, seeped into the organic bamboo bedding he prefered. Rosalyn had bled out during her day sleep. Godric virtually never swore in English, but he was so shocked that he let out a ripping stream of profanity.

"Maker," Eric said, clutching the woman in his arms, kissing her hair. "I love you always. I do not presume to tell you how to raise your progeny. It is not my right."

"But?"

"I do not think you can ever be apart from min syster for at least a century. I barely kept her alive. I drained myself twice to keep her going. Twice. She doesn't understand how much blood she took from me. I've never even given Pamela so much in our exchanges. Four days. If this had been two weeks, you'd be at a funeral. Ros wouldn't have survived. Your blood has become something unparalleled in power. It is the awful cost of such strength." He grimaced. "I will destroy Roman for this, Goðrik. Gods as my witnesses, he is going to die by my hand, and every last girl in Tarquin's House and Line. No one does this to us. No one. I swear upon Odin and Thor and Tyr and the body of Baldr. By the gods, I will to ruin them all and I will desecrate their remains. They are going to die."

Godric cursed again and re-opened his wrist for the quivering woman. It was a terrible place to feed from given the volume Rosalyn required. She fed desperately, sucking hard at the little wound, half unconscious. She began weeping again. "No, no, darling!" Godric said. "Do not cry. You cannot lose more blood." Eric cradled her even more tightly and licked up her tears. She stopped feeding momentarily and offered Eric a mouthful of what she had taken from their maker. Eric stole a tiny lick and groaned. It had been far too long since he had tasted Godric's delicious nectar. He realized he was more upset by this insanity than he thought.

"The donor upstairs was not Isabelle's," Godric said to Eric. He had known instantly something was off. "You brought that young man here for Ros."

Eric licked his lips, thankful to have the pleasing blood of the one who made him sliding down his throat. "Fader, Ros needed nutrition.” Eric proceeded to explain that the donor had been untouched before he had brought him in and that Michael was a truly nice boy. “She fed so well on him. You should be very proud of her.”

Part of Godric wanted to throttle Eric for getting his Second in Command to lie to him. Another part was impressed that his child had been able to convince his most loyal colleague to fib for him on his behalf and, in the midst of this catastrophe, that he had taught Rosalyn to bite properly. Godric hated that he had missed his wife's first live feed. And on a boy that weirdly resembled him. There was something strangely arousing about that. That Eric had unconsciously fallen into speaking a mishmash of English, Old Norse, and Swedish was telling. He only did that when he was absolutely distraught.

As Godric let his wife drink from him for the third time, he looked at his two beautiful progeny. They were masterworks of his own creation. They were his. "You were right to get her a donor," he told Eric. "I would have done the same. Feed her. I cannot give more until I take some fresh blood."

Rosalyn was too weak to drop fang. Eric offered his neck to his maker. Godric shook his head. "Go get a knife. I will not bite out your throat."

There was nothing sharp in the antechamber bedroom. The only weapon Godric kept in the studio was an unassuming one - the wood screen partition next to his bed. A quick snap of the intricately carved sandalwood and an intruding vampire enemy would be ended. Eric carefully handed Rosalyn's collapsed body into Godric's arms and he rushed again to the upstairs master bedroom.

His ancient Viking longsword hung on the wall over an armoire. His maker had watched over it for decades. He had not known it was here until recently. Eric drew it from its sheath and was back at Godric’s side in a flash. He knelt and handed the sword to his maker. Godric whipped the thick steel around several times in swirls, reminding himself of the longsword's weight and feel. "I am so sorry. This will be very deep," he warned. He slit Eric's throat over Rosalyn. Eric pulled at the gash, letting his sister have everything that might come out of him. Rosalyn slurped at him desperately. The cut closed and Eric wished he did not heal so quickly these days. She still needed more of their blood. Ros was horrifyingly green. "Slice me again, Maker. Empty me for her," he said.

Godric refused. He licked the splash of Eric's blood off the hilt of the heavy weapon. He set the famed longsword known as Grendl down on the floor. "My valiant child. Min krigare [My warrior]." Godric wanted to say much more, but words long ago stopped capturing his bond with Eric. "Thank you. A thousand thanks. We will rise up and defeat this."

Eric stroked his maker’s cheek as Godric scented him lovingly with a purr. Godric bent and kissed Rosalyn. The blood and stress in the air was driving them into bloodlust. Rosalyn ground against her husband with need. Godric elbowed Eric aside.

Godric unbuttoned his trousers with one hand and took himself out and slipped himself into his wife under her skirt, giving her long, tantalizingly hard thrusts. She cried out, forgetting and uncaring that Eric was right next to her, so badly did she need Godric. She rubbed herself into a hard, long orgasm.

Eric sucked in a breath. The sight of their gorgeous bodies together was incredibly erotic. He ran a hand down his maker's back and over the narrow curve of the slim, chiseled waist he knew so well. Godric narrowed his eyes and he stilled Rosalyn's movement beneath him. Understanding as to why Eric was touching him sensually suddenly hit him.

"You've hidden it. The bonding sickness has affected you too. You're ill." Eric blinked in acknowledgment. It might have simply been his full bond with his sister and her illness spreading into him, but he had felt unbelievably unwell – worse than in centuries. He had silently vomited multiple times into the bathtub when Rosalyn was asleep. "This why you've been sending me lust through our bond. You've not done that in 70 years."

"Ros asked about our history and relationship. It got me thinking about it and…I don't know when or why you convinced yourself that I don't need you anymore, because I do. I need you and I always will." Eric's jaw tensed, uncomfortable with his vulnerability.

"Wait for me in the bathroom. I'll be with you shortly."

Godric hiked Rosalyn's legs over his shoulders and he took her roughly until, gasping, they both found pleasure in each others' arms once more. He desperately wished he could open up his wrist again for her. "Darling, are you feeling any better?"

"Much better, thank you. I love you."

"I love you more." He hesitated. "Rosalyn?"

"Mm?"

"When we first began dating, we spoke of our commitment to the concept of human monogamy. But you are no longer human. You are a vampiress - one who is about to become one of the most renowned and respected of our kind. I have responsibilities to both of my progeny. Eric needs my assistance. He is unwell too. Is it acceptable to you that I go care for his physical needs to help hasten his healing? I understand if you do not want me to do that. You need only say. But otherwise, if it's not me, it will have to be you or Pamela. Only those in our direct bloodline can heal one another."

"Eric and I talked about this while you were gone. He is always yours. Do what you need to do. What a dumbass for hiding that he was sick."

Godric gave a grim laugh and went into the bathroom, closing the door. Rosalyn heard a series of cries from Eric and within minutes, the sound of hands being washed in the sink. Eric came out and grasped the doorway for support. "Hela and the flames of Sutr! He destroys me! That hasn't happened in a long, god damned time."

Godric strolled out and whacked him upside the back of his head. "You goon. Get back to your sister." Eric wrapped around Rosalyn. Godric hopped on top of them and embraced them. "You two are my everything." He kissed both of them. "We will right this mess."

~OOO~

Godric held his progeny, Eric pale from giving so much blood when he had been secretly ill and his pledged wife turned to a sickly color he had rarely witnessed in a vampire. This episode in their lives was one of the most idiotic, pointless challenges and simultaneously one of the most critical trials their family had ever faced.

It was an easy decision. He slid off the bed and dropped his fists. He did something he had not allowed himself to do in more than a millennium. His etiquette and niceties and absolute self-control dissolved and his raged and power unhinged completely. He unleashed the Boy Death. Eric shrunk back in shock and covered Rosalyn with his arm.

"Call Isabelle," Godric ordered his son. "Right now." Eric knew that tone of voice. It was fatal. He pulled his cell from his pocket and Godric snatched it once it rang.

"Where are you?" Godric demanded.

"I am about to drop my donor off at his home," Isabelle said. "I'm on Mockingbird Lane, almost in Lakewood."

"Isabelle the Third, Child of the House of Antonio, King of España, my Second in Command! You dare. You dare lie to me!" Godric growled a sound so deep no one but a supernatural could hear it. It sent shivers through both of his progeny. Rosalyn burrowed underneath Eric. Godric's underling on the other end of the phone gasped. "You think it wise to try to deceive me? After all these centuries? After everything I've given you? After the countless times I have rescued you? The donor was not yours and I knew it the second I smelled him!"

"My Lord, I apologize! I meant no offense," Isabelle said.

"We will discuss how you've allowed my first child to manipulate you against me when you return."

"My sovereign Lord, I beg your forgiveness!"

"I am extremely disappointed in you, Isabelle. You have failed me."

"Godric, Great One, my dearest friend! I only sought to help your wife. Forgive me!"

"You have never done something this foolish. You will be punished for this, as will Eric. I will be speaking with your maker." Isabelle cried and there was a screech of tires. She had pulled off the road. "Listen to your Lord Commander very carefully. Are you listening?"

"Yes! I hear you."

"There is a change of plans. Take this boy Michael home. Have him pack a bag and bring him back here. He'll need at least several days of clothing. Get some food for him on your way back to the estate. Tell him he will not be accepting any other clients. He now works exclusively for me."

"Yes, Sheriff. I will bring the donor back immediately."

Godric snapped off the phone and handed it back to Eric. He took his phone back, stunned. "Uh…Maker?"

"If this human boy pleases my wife, she will have him. I am going to enjoy every second of watching her feast upon my doppelgänger and, if she so wishes, ride his cock until dawn. 'Fuck this shit', as you would say."

Eric's jaw dropped.

"I have just dealt with four days of the stupidest nonsense I have ever endured. Look at this!" He gestured at Rosalyn. "I have flown over 20,800 miles and given almost all of my blood to heal my wife. You're sick and I've nothing left inside to heal you properly. I am going to gut that son of a bitch Roman and torture and kill every one of his associates and every last traitorous girl in Tarquin's line. And I'll be laughing as I do it." He sucked at his teeth, as if he could already taste their shattered bone and marrow. "You're not going to get a chance at revenge, Eric, unless you think you can get to them before me. I hope they enjoy having their own entrails pulled from their bellies and stuffed, still attached, down their throats. They won't even have their own screams for comfort. They'll be choking and starving on themselves while I tear them to shreds with silver. I'll do it slowly. Very slowly. I am going 3rd century BC on them. Not even you have seen what I will do when pushed this far."

Eric's eyes widened. Godric did not bluff. In a thousand years, he had seen his maker do unspeakable things. The prospect of him somehow exceeding his track record was unthinkable.

"We'll have to restructure the Council completely,” Godric said. “I may move us to Shreveport so we can all be together. I'll abdicate my Sheriffdom."

Eric stuttered. "Um. Maker…my position might not be so stable. You should know that I had a blowout fight with Sophie-Anne last night. She sent Compton back into Area Nine. He's been skulking around for intel on me and he squealed like a little pig to her that neither I nor Pam had been directly running the Area. She demanded $200,000 from me."

"Put her on the phone. Now."

"Gods, I warned her that this would happen."

"Andre speaking," the Queen's Second in Command answered. Godric identified himself. The only response they heard was the rapid patter of Andre's shoes slapping down the marble corridors in panic.

"Sheriff Godric. This is Sophie-Anne," the Queen purred.

"Not Queen for much longer. You are a puppet regent far too young to control our capitol and you are a reckless, wasteful vampiress. Your conduct is reprehensible. My child will not be paying you extra tribute and you can forget about our House paying for the wedding party. You will be footing the bill for us. Consider your reign over." Sophie-Anne went to reply and Godric hung up on her.

"Who's running your Area de facto? Thalia?" Eric nodded. Godric scrolled through the contacts and dialed the ancient vampiress. "Thalia? Get Indira and sharpen your swords. It's game time."

How quickly Godric could think and act when he was motivated was dizzying. Godric looked again at the list of numbers and dialed Russell Edgington.

"Hello?" Edgington's Greek consort answered.

"Talbot, get me the King. It's Sheriff Godric." There was a shuffle and scratch of fabric on the line.

"Godric!" Russell said cheerily in his fake Southern accent. He pronounced it 'Gawwwdric'. Eric winced. He hated when people mispronounced his maker's name.

"Russell, I require your assistance. You are coming to the wedding announcement party, yes?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Sheriff."

"This is a very delicate matter. Are you alone? I must speak with you in confidence."

"Yes, I'm in my office."

"Talbot has left the room?"

"It's just me."

"This is not to be shared with anyone, under any circumstance."

"Ooh, secrets between the ancients of the New World! Do tell."

"I do not jest. If you betray me, I'll kill you."

"Come now, I'm a thousand years older than you. Save your threats."

"No, you're actually not, and we both know I'm the superior fighter."

"Alright, testy, testy. What do you need? You know I'm still not very happy with Eric."

"Forget your quarrel with Eric. That matter is over."

"True enough."

"Russell, I am planning on kidnapping and killing the High Counselor at the party, most of the other counselors, and the girls of Lucius Tarquinius' line. You are nearly Roman's age. We have other elders on our team, but I could use some more backup if you would be so kind as to support us."

"Why ever would you do that?"

"He has crossed me for the last time." Godric explained what happened.

Edgington was stunned to learn that Godric had turned the human woman he had been pictured in the papers with. His shock turned to astonishment when Godric told him they had pledged marriage. No one - save for Godric and Eric's superiors - actually knew who was being married at the New Orleans summit. Queen Sophie-Anne had been told, as had King Peter and High Counselor Roman.

"And here I thought you'd lost your mind and decided to marry Sophie-Anne," Edgington quipped.

"You'd kill Roman too if he'd done this to Talbot," Godric said. Edgington and his mate were the only other pledged maker-child pair in the Americas.

Russell heartily agreed. "What will we do about the Council?"

"We'll reorganize it."

"Will your wife be well enough to attend the festivities?"

"Yes. She is recovering."

"Good. I do look forward to meeting her. My heartiest congratulations, old boy."

"Come armed. I'll see to it that the guards will not stop you."

"I believe I have some very nice silver chains."

"We will speak soon. Thank you, Russell." Godric snapped at Eric to get up. "Heat up some blood."

Eric scrambled for the fridge. "How much?"

"I don't know. Just keep it coming." He rung another number as the microwave was droning. The connection trilled with a UK ringtone. "Amleth? Gather your children and get on a plane right now."

"Godric, what's wrong?" his adopted child said.

"I said right now! I want you here beside me at once!" He quickly retold the story.

"What did that motherfucker Roman have to say for himself while he kept you?" Amleth hissed.

Godric's face darkened. "He had nothing to say, save for wasting my time and horribly sickening both of my progeny."

"Please tell me you staked him."

"I could not get my hands on him. He was always protected and his resting place was guarded. We're taking them all at the party."

"He is dead. We will slay every last one of them." Amleth paused to speak to one of his children. "Costas. Constantine! Get us a plane fueled and ready to go to Dallas." He put the phone back to his ear. "Who do you want to run London if we all leave? Without Costas or Eva on the ground, there is no one to run my Sheriffdom."

"I don't give a fuck who runs London. Leave it. Let those useless vampires squabble and kill each other off if they are so incapable of conducting themselves without a Sheriff to tell them what to do. I'll slaughter the Queen if she protests."

Amleth was momentarily speechless. He had not heard that Godric since he was a wee vampire barely out of the ground. "Yes, sire. We'll be there in about ten hours. What would you like me to do with Sookie? She won't be protected if we're all gone."

"Bring her. I am done with Niall's bullshit. He left Sookie in this family's care. We will take care of her," he said with a vicious gleam in his eye.

Chapter Text

Godric unclenched his balled fists several times in a pointless attempt to calm down. Alien sensations crawled over his skin and suspended, static-like, in the air. So potent was the primordial energy pouring from his body that he felt he could bend the very fabric of space and time. Perhaps he could.

Centuries of fanatical asceticism and restraint had not weakened the dark spark that animated him. On the contrary, denied expression and left to accumulate, his ancient magic had grown into something unspeakably dangerous. Once they called him Death. Now there was no name for what Godric had become.

Before him on the bed lay his two glorious progeny, clutched together and quivering from the onslaught of his unleashed power. Their beauty was unparalleled. He could drown in the crush of love he felt for them. He breathed their mingled scents, Eric of fire and ice, Rosalyn of sun and stone. And blood. Entirely too much of Rosalyn's blood, splattered in watery puddles on the bathroom floor, zigzagging crimson mazes across the tile.

Godric closed his eyes as if to lock his children safely away from the world. But they were not safe, not even in his mind. His memories were a red parade of violence - lifetimes upon lifetimes of horrors. It seemed impossible that the past could haunt him more cruelly, but it did. In Eric and Rosalyn's vulnerabilities he was blinded with thoughts of Tarquin. Tarquin's remains, cold and slick in his fingers. Millennia of brotherhood lost in a moment. Amleth's inconsolable wailing. Eric's indiscriminate rage. The three of them like wraiths on a black, moonless night, releasing Tarquin's ashes over the Capitoline Hill to the ruins below. A century of grief so bottomless that it sucked the color from the world.

The past could not be repeated. He was not certain he could survive another loss.

Distantly, Godric was aware that Rosalyn had been pleading with him while he was in downtime. She was accusing him of breaking his word. Something about a fair trial and justice, the time for giving, and not wanting a bloodbath of a wedding party.

Slowly, the world came back into focus.

Eric turned to his sister, unsettled by Rosalyn's disrespectful tone and worried that Godric might snap at her. "Baby girl, you forget your place. Mind your tongue with Maker," he said. Eric hid his concern with that incomparable haughtiness that was his alone - and Rosalyn was having absolutely none of it.

"My place? Yes, let's recall my place, Eric, since you care so much about hierarchy. I am your blood sister and your eternally bonded one. I am also mistress of this Sheriffdom as well as Lady of Godric's House and Line. You'll listen to me as your equal, you'll listen to me because you are in Area Nine, or you'll listen to me because I am consort of this bloodline - but you are going to god damn well listen or you are excused."

"I'll be what?" Eric said, astonished.

"Excused. As in, ‘you can get the hell out'." Eric's eyes turned square. He tried and failed several times to find something clever to say in response. "Please, both of you, stop and think before acting," Rosalyn continued. "No one has ever healed by causing another pain. No one. The pain you all suffer over Tarquin will never be satisfied by Roman's death. You hurt because you loved. You won't find peace elbow-deep in his guts."

"We aren't looking for peace. We're looking for his death," Eric said through clenched teeth.

"He'll get the true death. I am all for ending his reign of terror. But I will not be party to wanton torture."

"Silence," Godric said. The order was soft-spoken and absolute. Rosalyn flinched, unused to these flicks of command from him. He pushed a wave of calm into their bonds, trying to soothe the roiling frenzy his unruly powers had caused. Rosalyn was far too new to understand how greatly affected she was by her kin. Eric knew better, but he had yet to appreciate Rosalyn's unique influence on him. Eric took Rosalyn's hand with a conciliatory look and she begrudgingly let him tuck it under the protective wing of his arm.

Godric squatted down in front of them. "I am not easily shocked. But tonight? Coming home to discover this…this obscene violence done to you through the usurpation of my powers? Being weaponized against you? It is too much." Godric glanced again at the blood-soaked bedclothes in the bathroom and back at Rosalyn's sickly coloring and Eric's drained aura. He shook his head in disgust.

"I have been a fool," he said. "I must apologize to both of you. For centuries, my ethic of absolute restraint and self-mastery has served me well, but no longer. It has become willful ignorance. I no longer know my limitations and I understand precious little about my strengths. In disengaging from my powers, I have endangered you." Godric looked up at his progeny with the haunted green eyes of an ancient, set incongruously in his sweet, masculine face. He did not try to hide his weariness.

"Maker," Eric whispered. In his mouth, the word sounded like a prayer. "No one could have anticipated Roman's manipulations or their effects. How may we serve you?"

"Talk to us," Ros said.

Godric swallowed, trying to quell his boundless anger. "You do not understand." He stood and clasped them to his chest. "I will do anything – anything – to protect you."

"But carnage and cruelty, Godric. Killing everyone that gets in your way? This is not what we discussed. You don't have to stoop to Roman's level. Please don't do these horrible things," Rosalyn said. "Please, Maker."

Godric could almost smile hearing her use his sacred title. Almost. "Thoroughly bloodlusted and still arguing like a hellcat for compassion. My gods, what a magnificent creature you are, Rosalyn."

Eric looked to Godric for confirmation. "Her empathy was enhanced, wasn't it?"

Godric nodded. "Know that I take your views very seriously, Ros. I promised to foster better co-existence in the world. Yet Roman seeks to tip the balance of order according to his whims. I also promised you eternity. Roman would take that from us too. You want mercy for the merciless. You want peace without the ugliness of achieving it. "

"You'll only be adding to the chaos Roman has created," Ros countered. "Making his execution gruesome achieves nothing."

"Nothing?" Godric was confused by her bizarre logic.

"She is of this era, Godric," Eric supplied. "She is an innocent. War is a tv program. Hunger is a donation bucket outside a supermarket. She is against torture on principle alone."

"Prying any knowledge out of Roman will be advantageous," Godric said. He paced the room and began to lay out his reasoning for Rosalyn. "If Roman has bloodkin, he has kept them hidden. If he has any rationale for targeting my House, he has kept it hidden. Of his supernatural abilities, we know nothing. His allies – next to nothing. There isn't another elder under the stars about whom I know less and I've had two hundred years to search for answers about him. And now I learn that the strength of my blood has given you a great weakness and that I am a mystery even to myself."

Ros growled in frustration. "So fall in line? Get ready to learn how to break someone on the wheel?" Eric tightened his hand on hers in warning.

Godric tilted his head to one side. "No. Get ready to confront your new abilities. I will no longer hide from my magic and I expect no less of you."

"Don't try to dress this up as some learning experience. You just want to indulge your darkest impulses."

Godric blinked in surprise at her defiance. He was losing track of whose anger was whose. "This is my order, Ros. We will all reach into our powers, whatever they may be. You are not naive. You knew our world was violent when you agreed to let me kill you as your safest option."

It took only a split second for him to realize that these were not the right words, but by then it was too late. "Oh my god," she said in horror. "Did you turn me to prove me wrong about you? To groom me into a killer? I didn't agree to become the mistress of Death!"

Rage tore through his veins and his fangs slammed down. "But you are the mistress of Death. You are whatever I need you to be. Must I command you?"

"I'll meet the sun before I let you turn me into a monster!" she cried, her voice thick with dread.

Eric scrambled, shoving Rosalyn behind him. "Punish me, Godric! I failed. She is weak and confused because I failed to keep her strong. She doesn't know what she's saying. Punish me."

Godric crushed his finger bones in his fists and he stepped away from Eric's proffered chest. He clenched his jaw to force restraint into his lips. "Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray, I did not pour my life force into you and eternally bind myself and my firstborn to you as a petty game. Do not ever suggest such a thing to me again, child."

"No, you - " Eric clapped a hand over Rosalyn’s mouth before she could worsen matters.

In the haze of Godric's fury, his lizard brain reminded him that Rosalyn was new and she did not know better. He could not lash out for what he had not taught her. Godric pressed his hands together beneath his chin, praying for patience. It took several minutes before he trusted himself to speak. "Rosalyn, your challenge to me – to give back instead of take – this was always the challenge you chose for yourself. You began it in ignorance. You proceeded in spite of learning about its dangers. Only now - when you can see the world from all sides natural and supernatural - will you begin to understand your vision for the enormity of its dimensions.

"Monsters like Roman only know monstrosity. He has had millennia to evolve and yet has chosen otherwise. He will not be stopped by your pleas and your school. It will take a monster faster, smarter, and far worse than him. So tell me: how am I to create beauty and harmony when what is called for is destruction – when what is called for is me? I am Death, the Destroyer, the Devourer. You say I belong in this world? Prove it. Your vision is mine. I am your weapon to command." He met her gaze, irises a hard grey-green slate. It was a stare that dared her to contradict him. Rosalyn swallowed compulsively and she tugged the sides of her robe tighter. In a sudden swirl of wind, Godric was gone.

~OOO~

Emptied bloodbags fluttered back to the ground in the wake of Godric's furious departure.

"Are you insane?" Eric said. He heated yet another satchel of O-neg and handed it to her. "Drink that, and don't even think of talking again until you've got your head screwed on straight."

She sipped at it and the red frenzy scratching in her veins cooled. "What…what the hell was that?"

Eric ran a hand over his exhausted face. "What part was unclear to you? The part where our ancient-ass maker just reminded you that promises cut both ways? That you don't get to demand things like total world peace and sparkle rainbows and magic fucking unicorn butterflies without understanding what you're asking of him? Without helping him achieve it? Yeah no, baby girl. You're up to speed. There are no double standards in this family."

"Jesus H. Christ."

"Hardly." Eric groaned and flopped backwards. "And they say girls are easier to raise. Pshah."

"You agree with him," Rosalyn accused. "You can't wait to play savage warrior and devil may care about the consequences of using excessive force, for him or anyone else. He's talking about going on a rampage and destabilizing the world!"

"I don't usually question how he chooses to keep us safe. Now isn't an especially good time to start, but nobody asked me."

"Roman isn't worth dying for."

"No, but you are," Eric retorted.

"I'd rather we weren't already discussing who is an acceptable sacrifice."

"Then get a hold of yourself and stop busting Maker's balls! Odin's bloody beard, woman. You think this is the first time we've dealt with a berserker ancient? Our laws are only as strong as the strongest vampire that chooses to follow them. Newsflash: Roman isn't playing by the rules. I'll be damned if one of us dies over your ideals, especially ones so ill-suited to this clusterfuck. Righteousness is quick way to meet an early grave. I should know." He gave her a pointed glare.

"What?"

"It's what got me killed the first time. I chased an ideal of revenge right into my funeral bier."

Rosalyn sat quietly. "Godric wants more than survival. And he's wrong. He's more than just a weapon."

"Well then you'd better come up with a solution for him and fast."

"Surely Godric doesn't expect me to figure out how to fix this mess." Ros scoffed. "I hardly know anything about vampire politics."

"Right."

"He can't sit on his hands and do nothing. That's crazy."

"It is."

"We'll all be killed," she said. Eric raised an amused eyebrow. "What? Why is that funny?"

"Because I'm curious whether I looked as preposterous as you when I first began to understand Godric's methods."

"If by method you mean throwing some riddle at me and letting me stew over it? He can't be serious."

"He's as serious as the grave, lillasyster. Godric will always give you the freedom you demand - and demand it you have. He has given you just enough rope to hang yourself with. I would appreciate it if you used it as a lifeline instead."

"That's absurd."

"No. What is absurd is you pulling rank on the people who love you and are willing to die for you making demands about the treatment of hypothetical prisoners we haven't even figured out how to hypothetically capture."

Ros took an unsteady breath. "When you put it like that, I sound like Sookie."

"No, what you sound like is a bloodlusted newborn with more power and position than sense. You have a right to protest our sire's plans. Gods know you've figured out your place in the pecking order. But with that right comes a fuckload of responsibility for our family."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shut you down before."

Eric huffed in consternation. "Yes, you did. Quite spectacularly, I might add."

"I'm really sorry."

"No, you're not. You didn't want me to intervene. How'd that work out for you?" Rosalyn fiddled with the corner of her kimono, embarrassment curdling in her gut. "You aren't yet able to gauge, let alone control, your own bloodlust, nevermind others'. You were pushing Godric unfairly when he was already very far gone."

"He is my husband, Eric. I'm not going to walk on eggshells when he's pissy or coddle him when I disagree with him. I don't worship him like you. He's not a god. He's a man."

Eric rolled up to a sit. "A man? He is the greatest man to have ever walked this world, to be sure, but a man is the very least of what Godric is. Has he not explained to you what he believes a maker and child should be to each other?"

"He has." Rosalyn thought back to her first plane ride with Godric. Those human memories were fuzzy and distant compared to her flawless preternatural recall. "He told me that a maker and progeny are all things to each other in time. Not everything all the time - "

" – 'but all things to each other in the end'," he finished, the motto etched across his undead heart. "Just so, Ros. Now you are going to listen to me. As you say, whether you choose to do so because I am your brother and your bonded companion, or as the First Reborn of your bloodline, or as your eternal millennial elder is up to you."

"Touché."

"I am not playing with you. Are you listening?"

Something in her gut responded to his stern tone. He was right. This was not her goofy Viking friend speaking. He was an ancient being to whom she was blood bound. "Go on," she said.

Satisfied that he had her attention, Eric continued. "To be given immortality is to be god-touched. But no god chose us. No other supernatural being picked us. Godric did. There isn’t another vampire in existence that gives the gift of immortality and forswears the powers of total domination he is granted as a maker. No vampire but he makes himself a servant to his progeny. None. Not even me. And for that, he is more than a god. Godric lives to make the eternity he promised you possible. His commitment to that end is absolute. He lives for you now. So you be mindful of what role you are inhabiting when you speak to that 'man', do you understand me? For when you speak to Godric as your Maker, you owe him awe."

Eric fell perfectly still, wanting the sheer magnitude of Godric's dedication to overwhelm her. It did. Rosalyn wilted into her hands and began to sob. She tried to curl into Eric's chest, but Eric resisted. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," she sniffled.

"Stop leaking blood. I told already you that Godric cracked my skull open and left me for a day after I was flippant about his commitment as a maker. You think I enjoy sharing my fuckups with you? I've never shared that story. Godric just gave you the benefit of a warning not to insult him that way ever again and a brother with enough experience to highly recommend you listen. Godric will only warn you once."

"Then what? He'll hurt me too? You'll thrash me on his behalf?"

"Depends. Do you think you don't need a maker?"

"I need him more than anything. It was like I had a hole punched through my soul while he was gone," she said, rubbing at the messy tears staining her cheeks. "I need you too."

Rattled by her distress, Eric relented and pulled her into his arms, dropping a kiss on each of her puffy eyelids. "Then you're already smarter than I was at your age. Godric has not earned my undying allegiance by extorting it through commands and violence. Those are the tactics of weak, deplorable makers. I needed a whack from him here and there as a yearling because I purposefully put my own skin at risk. He gave me the tiniest taste of what an enemy might do – not as a punishment, but as a lesson to stop me from running straight toward danger. Learning about the horrifying resilience of your reborn body is not one he's going to let you learn at someone else's hands."

A shiver coursed through Rosalyn's spine. "I just want an explanation. He's doing the opposite of everything he said he wanted."

"You're a lot like him, you know. Strange and beautiful." A smile curled at the corner of Eric's mouth. "Godric tackles problems at odd angles. It is absolutely infuriating when you want a clear answer, but almost nothing in life is straightforward. Trust him. He can't fight our battles and have you balking at his authority. Don't expect him to behave like a conventional thinker because he's not. Following conventions gets you killed. Godric won't teach you rules or give you wordy explanations in advance; he'll give you the space to experience firsthand the consequences of your choices. He shows you how your wants and desires endanger what you care about. More often than not, it involves endangering himself."

The realization hits Ros with force. "My god. That's exactly what you did to him at the fundraiser. You made him think you were going to be killed to teach him a lesson."

Eric did not respond. Instead, he slipped from her hold and busied himself with righting the wreckage in the studio. He picked up the blood bags on the floor and turned on the bathroom, scrubbing the tile and porcelain and mirrors with the relentless precision of a neat freak. As he finished straightening a fresh set of towels on the dowel rod, he finally spoke. "The threat against my life was real enough. Godric just didn't realize it was losing him."

"Does Pam know?" Ros whispered.

"No," he said, his back still turned to her.

Slowly, Eric returned to Rosalyn’s side. Her hand automatically covered his. There was more wreckage to clean up than what had been left lying about on the ground. She would have to speak to Godric about his firstborn - and soon. "I'll apologize to Godric. I hurt him and I'll fix things. I trust you both to know what is necessary. I'll keep out of the way. I'm just a liability."

"Tsk, you are so much more than that. You don't get to step aside in this family. You get to step up. That your empathy is riled in bloodlust over your thirst for violence is…curious. Embrace it, as Godric has ordered. He clearly believes it to be another power at our disposal."

"I know you were just trying to help me. You got me through hell. Forgive me?"

"Of course, baby girl." He played with the tail of her braid thoughtfully. "I know you need to build your own relationship with Maker. I also know that it isn't easy listening to me advise you from a thousand years of being at his side. Talk to Amleth when he arrives. He had a similar advantage over me when it came to Godric and he's been bossing the shit out of me since I was made." Eric snorted a laugh. "It's still hard for me to watch you make the same mistakes I did. We'll draw our lines in the sand for each other as we go, okay?"

"Sure, Blondie. It's not a competition."

"No, it is not." A devious smile broke out across his face. "It really is not…because I'll always win, lillasyster!" He growled and pounced, overpowering her without effort. He entertained her pointless attempts to escape by tickling her and nipping back with blunt teeth and they wrestled until they were breathless from laughter.

Rosalyn wrapped her arms around him and nestled against his neck. He returned the embrace, settling his cheek against the delicate skin of her temple. When Eric eventually extricated himself to track down Godric, Rosalyn was at his heels on the stairway. She stopped him before he could code out.

"C'mon, kiddo. Maker should have regenerated his blood enough to feed you again. Just watch yourself. I know the view of my ass is great, but you can't always hide behind me."

Rosalyn wanted to laugh, but could not. The frisson of all that had transpired between them loomed large in their bond. In the space of a few days, their friendship had radically transformed. Rosalyn was suddenly frightened that the spell would be broken the second they stepped through the doorway, and the Eric that was sensitive and honest and beautifully raw for her would evaporate. "Eric, behind closed doors…" she began.

"Hm?" he said.

She tried to find the words. There were none. Eric saw the difficulty and leaned down to her, blood on his tongue. “This is what you mean,” he said.

This time, she accepted the bloodkiss of her brother in kind and the cord binding them together affirmed what speech could not.

"Behind every door. Beneath every mask. Always, my bonded,” he said. For a brief moment, Eric gave a boyish, embarrassed grin before settling it into his usual impenetrable smirk. He tapped her nose, scanned his palm into the security panel, and ushered her through the door.

~OOO~

Godric's arms sliced through the water with furious precision. The surface of the pool was hardly disturbed. Beneath it, the man was a deadly streak of opal and green and blue amongst the purling aquamarine. The serpent on his back coiled and struck with each rhythmic stroke.

He ignored the shimmering silhouettes of his two progeny waiting at the pool's edge for a dozen more laps. When he was certain that he could be sufficiently civil, he popped up at the far end of the lap lane. "Summon Pamela," he told Eric. "When you are adequately healed, bring me Sophie-Anne's crown."

"With or without her head?" Eric asked. Rosalyn looked up at him dubiously and he winked. "Just the crown, then."

"Take custody of Ronwe on your return and lock him down in a holding cell."

"Yes, Maker. Anything else?"

"I assume you've taken matters into your own hands and had a talk with Ros?"

"Yes, Maker."

"Then she doesn't need a lecture from me. Take Empress Akiko-sama's kimono from my wife before you toss her in here."

Eric was too quick for Rosalyn and had her soaring through the air before she could squeak. Gravity, in contrast to the Viking, worked more slowly, and she had time to tuck and roll into a ball as the wall of water approached. Godric latched onto her instantly, sinking them both to the bottom. She tried to mouth a bubbling apology but he smothered it with a demanding kiss. He did not want to hear it. He already knew. His muscular limbs wrapped around hers, molding her body to his in an unyielding embrace. Me, he told her. His seductive call roused her through the bond, dissolving her into a pulsing hunger for him. He made love to her fiercely until there was nothing but her and his focus on her. When she was boneless and had fallen to pieces, Godric hoisted Rosalyn out of the water and onto the diving board.

He was not done. In fact, he had not even begun to make his point. Rucking her legs around his hips, he mounted her and thrusted, using the board's bounce beneath his knees. Rosalyn's eyes went wide. "Do I have your attention now?" he said.

"Yes," she gasped. He arched an eyebrow and waited. "Yes…Maker?" she tried.

His lips quirked ever so slightly. "That's right, Rosalyn. I am your maker. I have not wanted to sully our honeymoon by teaching you what this means, but it is my duty. I am your maker. You are my duty. You. Are. Mine," he said, punctuating each word with a bounce so deep it traveled up her spine and raised the hair on the back of her neck. He fisted her hair and whispered hotly in her ear. "You fell ill because you are mine. You heal because you are mine. Your pain is mine. Your joy is mine. Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"Yours!"

He found a rhythm with his hips, bending her pleasure around his hard flesh. His tremendous aura of power swelled and enveloped her, willing her total surrender. Godric needed not say a word to make her submit, she realized. He needed only to desire her submission and everything within her wanted to yield and in the yielding there was ecstasy. He possessed her completely, losing himself in her and she in him. He healed her with crashing waves of hot bliss and fed her more of his lifeblood and she understood.

Rosalyn was his blood. And though he might despise the word, in the blood, he was her Master. Yet he asked when he could order. What little dissent that occurred in his bloodline, he allowed. He had allowed her little bloodlusted rebellion, though it hurt him. And while he finished demonstrating his absolute authority, that he gave her this lesson with pleasure was his choice too. He did not lord his power over his progeny. He freed them with it.

Rosalyn came again, crying his name and digging her nails into his biceps. Slowly, he pasted a trail of kisses down her body as he slid off the diving board. He stood over her, no longer the lost, impassive boy in the desert. He was an untamed king of the night. More than a god. A ruler of gods – befitting the meaning of his name. "Have I made myself clear, love?"

"Crystal. I am so very deeply sorry, Maker."

"It is forgiven. I've not shown you the nature of my dominion over you because I've wanted to savor every second of these early days."

"And I haven't asked, my heart, for the same reason."

"I do not want my kin to cower in my shadow. I rely on you to challenge me. I relish it. But don't you dare question my honor as your maker. I won't hesitate to remind you."

"I don't doubt it. Though…” she smiled, “I can't say I'd mind a little review.”

Godric whipped a towel around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Don't test me, lover. You'll find that you won't like the attention such attention-seeking behavior yields."

Heat pooled in Rosalyn's core once again seeing his sensuous lips uttering such promising threats. "Mmm. God you are so sexy like this. Show me again, sire." She ran her hands up his chest and over his tattooed collar.

"Rosalyn…" His body reacted with more than a little interest. "As much as I hope to spend my eternal nights showing you exactly what it does to me when you call me your sire, I need to attend to a few other matters first."

"Like your other naughty cub?" She pulled the towel from his hands and blotted her damp hair. "Does Eric get the same 'punishment'?"

"Impertinent woman," Godric said, nostrils flaring in amusement. “I've something else in mind for him. And you, Madame, are going to help."

Chapter Text

“Amleth!” Rosalyn called out. She could not help but moon over the gorgeous vampire the moment he entered the foyer. He cut a perfectly Byronic figure in a black trench coat, the collar pulled up around his ears. His inky hair was held back with a pair of gold aviator sunglasses and the long waves spilled down over his shoulders.

"Hello, darling!" he said as he caught Rosalyn in his arms and kissed her cheeks.

“You’ve been poking at me since you landed in New York!” she said.

“What's this bosh? I do not ‘poke’ in the blood. I very gently and correctly announced my presence on the continent.” He handed her a smartly wrapped package. “A thousand blessings upon you and yours, madame.”

“We thank you, London,” she said, finding the requisite formalities silly. But Rosalyn understood the importance of pretense. Godric insisted on obscuring the nature of his and Amleth’s connection by maintaining certain appearances between the two sheriffdoms. She herself had not known about Amleth's adoption until she was turned. If others identified the blood of Godric’s two progeny in Amleth, most would dismiss it as the byproduct of a steamy, meaningless night in Dallas. They would be very, very wrong.

Rosalyn passed the ceremonial gift to Eric, knowing full well that the box was empty. Instead of handing token presents back and forth during official visits, Amleth, Godric, and Eric had a centuries-long game of hiding a hideous gold wallet in each others’ nests for the unsuspecting host to find. Once upon a time, Godric had discovered it mislaid in his belongings and thinking it was Amleth’s, returned the offensive object to him with sincerity. Amleth swore he nearly died all over again laughing at the wretched thing and the mere idea that it could be mistaken as his. Ever since, the lot of them took great joy in devising increasingly absurd ways to secret the wallet into one another’s unwilling possession. Rosalyn had no doubt she would be targeted as its next owner. She would have to stay vigilant.

“You’re all dressed up,” Rosalyn noted as a footman brought in Amleth’s luggage. “You look fantastic.” It was not just Amleth's beguiling nature behind Rosalyn's words. There was a giddy happiness percolating in their bond. 

“We came straightaway. Boss’ orders and such.” He smoothed down an emerald silk scarf over his dark maroon velvet jacket and Rosalyn appreciated how the colors made his eyes dance a startling green. A movement on the portico drew her gaze over his shoulder and she sucked in an unnecessary breath. “Oh my dear god,” she said. Her hand flew to her mouth, horrified that she had blurted that out loud. The two vampires walking up behind Amleth made the trio look like they fell out of a fashion magazine.

Eric gave a deep chuckle. “Exquisite creatures, aren’t they? Allow me to introduce you to Amleth’s progeny. This is Constantine Manetas.”

The bronze vampire set down a leather carryall and knelt before Rosalyn, fist over his unbeating heart. His dark brown hair was smoothed back from where it met on his forehead in a widow’s peak. He wore his beard short. Like Amleth, his face was sculpted of shadows that played in the sharp angles of his bones. Unlike Amleth, Constantine’s eyes were jet black, so black and illegible they swallowed the world. They were reptilian. He flashed a pretty smile and Rosalyn was afraid. She reached blindly for Eric and found his hand. She nearly forgot her manners. “Welcome to Area Nine, Mr. Manetas. We are pleased to have you.”

“Please, call me Costas. I am your humble servant, madame.”

Eric presented Amleth's other child, Eva Desjardins, and Rosalyn was grateful for Eric’s steadying presence. Eva frightened her too. 'You’re doing beautifully,' he silently reassured her.

Eva was an alabaster tower, delicate of limb and cordial as stone. Her formless linen shift was as colorless as her skin. Her head was crowned with a shock of platinum white hair. Her thin lips were tinted with a bright pop of ruby lipstick. Like Costas, Eva knelt to Rosalyn in full supplication. The guards and service staff took no notice. Everyone bent the knee to the House of Godric. But this was different. Amleth blinked slowly and silently asked Rosalyn whether she understood. His children were sworn to serve her. Rosalyn nodded. Her distrust did not waver.

The conclave of vampires was welcomed inside and settled in the finest of the public receiving rooms. Amleth automatically took the oversized chair normally reserved for Godric. The reaction of the handful of Dallas vampires milling about the nest was telling. The London Sheriffdom rivaled many monarchies in importance. The locals tittered in low, near inaudible tones and peeked at Amleth and his children from the shadows of the hallway. Amleth gave a small shrug at Isabelle, agreeing to greet the underlings while they waited for their appointments with Godric. Mabel was there, bubbling with excitement. Rosalyn could tell the little firecracker pin-up wanted to wheedle her for dirt on the smoldering Sheriff. She would be sorely disappointed.

Godric had pulled Rosalyn aside after dusk and given her a series of commands to lock their family’s secrets inside her head. He had also sheepishly adjusted his standing orders on Sookie. Preventing Rosalyn from being able to touch the human-faeling outright had been a serious error - one which might have been dangerous if Rosalyn had needed to truly defend herself. It was an oversight Godric attributed to not having ever considered restraining his first progeny from hurting humans. Both he and Rosalyn still had a lot to learn about the challenges of being ethical vampires in the 21^st century.  

While Mabel was chattering away with Amleth, Eva and Pam were catching up. Costas was engaged in conversation as well, but his eyes kept shifting back to Rosalyn, reminding her of how vampires used to look at her when she was claimed as Godric’s human. His interest sent chills of warning down her back. Isabelle slipped among the guests and Eric leaned down so that she could whisper something into his ear. He abruptly excused himself and left Rosalyn to assume the hosting duties. She took his place at Amleth’s right shoulder, supervising the Area residents and making it clear to all that Dallas had requested London’s presence. Amleth was their bauble to show off, and his time and attention were given at their discretion.

The discovery that vampires were so much more hierarchical and given to pomp and circumstance than humans had been rather a great letdown. Rosalyn had hoped that stripped of human conventions, they would associate loosely in covens or communes or conventicles. Godric assured her there were a great many such freewheeling places in the world. Just not Texas. And most definitely not Area Nine at present.

There was power, and then there was power play, Godric had explained. Most people were not able to recognize the difference. Real power was Eric in sweatpants smoothly running a sheriffdom out of a back room in a dingy strip mall club. Power play was this theatre of a gaudy house in Dallas – and everything Godric was about to do. “Observe, reflect, and you will see how we play the long game,” he advised her.

~OOO~

Earlier that evening, Godric had hoisted his solid walnut desk under one arm and banged through numerous double doors to an unused part of the estate. He tugged along a cart with supplies in the other hand. At the far end of the estate’s cavernous ballroom, he reassembled his office. The display was ridiculous, but sometimes underlings needed to have it spelled out for them. He was done playing the well-mannered, unobtrusive Sheriff. Let it never be said that Godric the Great ruled by reputation alone.

After sunset, Isabelle escorted Michael in. The human was forced to walk the long, full length of the court, sneakers squeaking loud and slow on the black and white checkerboard marble. The night was black beyond the huge picture windows. Godric had cut the pleasant landscape lighting in the east gardens. There were no vistas to distract visitors, no art on the walls, not even a potted palm. There was nothing in the grand hall other than Godric, the desk, and an empty chair. “Sit,” he ordered the boy, once the human finally reached him.

Godric started typing. He clacked the keys at a human pace. In the twenty tortuous minutes it took him to make the final edits on the contract, he did not once take his eyes off the fidgeting boy sitting in front of him. The human’s heart rate was elevated, but he bravely tried to meet Godric’s unnerving stare. The compact printer on the corner of the desk began rhythmically clunking out sheets of paper. Godric folded his hands and waited. The document was over two hundred pages long. Godric could have easily sent it to the large capacity photocopier in Isabelle’s office, but what kind of message would that send? He was letting the boy into his home. Giving him access to his wife. He was going to be as much of a bastard as he pleased – and then some.

Godric allowed a sly smile to slide across his mouth. People always thought it was Eric who was the unmanageable one. Almost no one remembered Eric before he was taught to be that way. Even fewer remembered that it was Godric who made him so. Most of those people were dead.

Seeing Godric’s odd smile, the boy swallowed nervously and cleared his throat several times. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and the air ripened with his adrenaline, but he weathered the silent interview nobly. Godric addressed him at last. “I am told that you hope to become a doctor, Michael.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doctors often find themselves holding a life in their hands. Does the power over life and death excite you?”

The boy blinked several times and he furrowed his brow in concentration. “I’d like to help people’s quality of life, sir, not play God.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“Ah…then…no, Sheriff. Having someone’s life in my hands is a daunting responsibility. I am not excited by the prospect, sir.”

“Here. Pick it up.” Godric pushed the stack of paper across the desk. Michael scrabbled at the document’s edges with stubby fingernails. “That, young one, is your life. Or at least one possibility for it. I doubt it feels nearly as weighty as the decision it contains.”

The boy stared at the contract in his lap. Godric opened a thick dossier. “Your new apartment, fully furnished, exclusive amenities, and 24-hour security.” He placed another packet beside it. “Your benefits package. Health insurance, life insurance, and retirement plan.” He tossed a set of keys on the table. They belonged to the banana yellow Lamborghini Michael had liked. “A signing bonus.” Godric added another pamphlet to the growing pile. It featured an ivy-covered brick building. “Full tuition, plus books and supplies, etc., and comparable secure housing and transport while you’re enrolled.”

Michael fingered the brochure. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t accepted at Harvard.”

“You are now.”

“But…what are you offering me?”

“Me? Nothing. Yet.” Godric pulled another file from a drawer and flipped through it. He debated threatening Michael with how much data he was able to gather on his family. Did he know his third cousin in Dayton, Ohio was lactose intolerant? Better yet, did he even know he had a cousin in Ohio? Godric settled on a more direct tactic.

“Michael, my eldest progeny Eric Northman asked you to lie to me. You complied. My second in command Isabelle Beaumont also conspired with you to lie to me. You complied. Again.”

“I…well…Mr. Northman was the one who hired me and gave me the instructions. I didn’t feel like I had a choice, sir.”

“You’re really going to go with ‘I was following orders’? Try again.”

“Was I glamoured? Mr. Northman said he wouldn’t but I know we can’t tell.”

“No, you weren’t glamoured. You were being tested. My child seems to think you are capable of being more than a blood whore. Are you?”

Michael set his chin. “I am not a whore.”

“I will be the judge of that.”

“Sheriff, I am not ashamed of donating my blood to aid Madame Rosalyn. She is so beautiful and was so sweet and - ” Godric crossed his arms. He did not need to be told about the virtues of his wife from this welp. Michael took the hint. “I am not ashamed when I donate platelets to help humans either. I know I am capable of a lot more. Did Mr. Northman tell you I am saving up what I earn for med school?”

Godric ignored him. He was the one who asked questions. “What do you think will happen if you attempt to lie to me a third and final time?”

The ‘final’ was not lost on Michael and the contract trembled in his hands. “Whatever you want to happen, sir. ‘If’ there were a third time. There won’t be.”

“Let us hope, for your sake, that is true.”

Godric pressed the intercom and issued a rapid order to Isabelle in Spanish. A few minutes later, Eric rapped on the doorframe. He had Sookie by the arm. She was flustered and aroused and Godric could tell Eric had been toying with her to elicit that exact response. He narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

Michael swiveled around and glanced briefly at the woman. He turned back to Godric without so much as a tick in his pulse or any dilation of his pupils. It was a point in his favor.

“Approach,” Godric said. He could feel Eric's groan about the new office setup before it rolled out of his child. “Tread carefully,” Godric warned him in Old Norse.

“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate,” Eric replied in Italian, letting his voice echo in the empty hall. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Michael bit back a smile and shaded his amusement under thick dark lashes.

“Is something funny?” Godric asked sharply.

“Dante’s Inferno. Nevermind.”

Godric harrumphed. “Then you’ll also know Dante said ‘In His will is your peace.’” Godric’s will was very much still on the fence about the human.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Sheriff,” Michael said.

“Do,” Godric said. Another point in the boy’s favor. Eric was right. Michael was clever.

Halfway across the court, Eric paused to genuflect and told Sookie to give a bob. She appeared to enjoy the political pageantry. Compton had certainly pegged his ‘Southern gent’ act right. Sookie was clearly the type who took pride in being able to perform formal rituals and codes of conduct. She gave another deep curtsy when she was finally before Godric. Whether she had learned to respect authority was another matter.

Godric greeted her coolly. “Welcome back, Ms. Stackhouse.”

“My Liege Lord Godric. It’s a real pleasure to see you again.” Her tan had faded while she was away in London, as had the stench of Compton’s blood in her.

“Ms. Stackhouse, I wish for you to read this human for me. He is a potential employee. Ascertaining his trustworthiness is of the utmost importance.”

“Stackhouse Consulting, LLC is happy to help you out. Pro bono, of course,” she said, pronouncing the phrase carefully.

“Of course,” Godric murmured, vaguely amused by the thought that she might dare send him a bill. He turned his attention back to Michael. “I will only ask you this once, young one. Think very carefully before you answer. What are you hiding from me?”

Michael’s heart tripped. “What? Nuh…Nothing, sir…” He looked around, searching for answers he did not have. 

“His girlfriend just dumped him,” Sookie said, holding his hand to hear his thoughts more clearly. “He told her that he is a donor. She didn’t know until he came home with marks.”

"When," Godric demanded.

"The night before last," Michael said.

"It's true," Sookie confirmed.

"He claimed it was his first time feeding a vampire," Godric said.

Sookie listened a moment. "Yup. That's true too...Eww." The two vampires waited for clarification. "He liked it. A lot."

Eric gave his maker a look. "Ros fed like you."

Godric raised an eyebrow. "I see." Mentally, he recalculated Eric's punishment. 

“Did he tell the girlfriend about his client?” Eric asked.

“Ah…nope. He said ‘Just some guy.’ He’s thinking of you, Eric. I mean, Mr. Northman, but…” Sookie squinted in concentration. “He’s seeing Madame Rosalyn. He didn’t describe either of you. He told her his client was short and ugly and smelled like Axe body spray.” She giggled and Eric cut his eyes skeptically at the boy.

“Anything else?” Godric pressed.

“Just a whole lotta panic, sir. He can’t afford his rent without his ex. He asked for more shifts at the cafe where he works. He’s real keen to know what you’d like him to do. Eric promised him big things if he didn’t mess up. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mess up.”

“Very well. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Stackhouse. You are excused. Eric, you stay.”

“What are ya’ll gonna do to him? Did he mess up?” Sookie said.

Godric had made a mental note to praise Amleth for his work with Sookie, but he saw that too needed adjusting.

“Leave, Tinkerbell,” Eric said and she gave a quick curtsy and trotted out of the ballroom clutching her purse. Godric drummed his fingers on the desktop.

“Seriously? Axe body spray?” Eric said, staring down his long nose at Michael. “This from Boy B-Plus.”

“Huh?” Michael said.

Godric waved off their chatter. He made his decision. “I agree that you are no whore, Michael. What you will become, however, remains to be seen.”

Should Michael agree to Godric’s proposal, he would be kept on a retainer during a short trial period, wherein he would continue to serve Rosalyn’s nutritional needs and help her re-acclimate to humans. His duties would shift away from blood donation into daytime tasks of increasing delicacy, and ultimately toward work related to the establishment of a medical program in Rosalyn’s school.

“You are the ones behind the new university?” Michael said.

“That is not public knowledge.”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

“No, you won’t. You will be glamoured into silence. But you can be part of this endeavor - if you prove yourself. Shall I continue?”

Michael gaped in disbelief at Godric’s sweeping agenda. Godric wanted to fund his post-graduate education and even if Michael decided against med school or flunked out, the family of vampires would find appropriate employment for him so long as he remained loyal. Ideally, Michael might work as a researcher and administrative board member once the medical program was operational.

“There is a caveat,” Godric said.

“Oh?”

“I do not employ humans.”

“Oh.” Michael’s excitement deflated like a balloon.

Godric flicked his eyes up at his lurking progeny. “My child, however, does take such risks. Seeing as he has already engaged your services -”

“You have got to be...You’re giving me the Boy Scout?” Eric said. He switched into Norse. “Give me Stackhouse. That is a snack I will gladly babysit.”

Godric stood, planting two fists on the hardwood desktop. Eric automatically sunk to one knee. “Should Michael agree to my proposal, you will be his employer and direct supervisor. That includes ensuring his security and well-being. Can you manage that?”

“I take excellent care of my staff,” Eric said, eyes glued to the floor.

“Your barmaid is significantly underweight and has a mind the consistency of Swiss cheese.”

“In all fairness, Maker, Ginger wasn’t much to start with.”

“And what is your excuse for Yvetta?”

“I am perfectly aware that Fangtasia attracts scum. That’s the point. Ask my former dayman how he fairs and he’ll tell you about the fresh crawdads I leave him and the fishing reels he received last Christmas and the houses he won’t accept from me.”

Godric probed their bond and in the bond there was no lie. It was as he suspected. But he wanted more from Eric. Eric needed to learn from Rosalyn's good example. “Treat Michael with the dignity he deserves. Do not fail your House.”

“Yes, Maker.”

“And for the love of the gods, make it known to Amleth and Sookie that he is permanently off the menu - all the menus.” Eric bowed his head and wisely suppressed a smile. Breezily returning to English, Godric continued. “Michael, you will have to be mobile. You will go where we go and live where we house you, with the security detail your position necessitates. These are the concessions of being attached to my retinue. They are non-negotiable. There is one final thing.”

Godric leaned over the desk into the young mortal’s hopeful face and let his fangs slide down. “While Eric is your supervisor, you are my agent. You answer to me. If you detect the slightest whiff of deceit around you, in anyone, you report it to me. If you are concerned about anything you witness seeming suspicious or out of place, you report it to me. Understand? You are incapable of lying to me or mine. If you fail me, I will see to it that the world forgets you ever existed. Your own mother won’t know your name.” Godric twisted off the hard glamour and sunk back into his chair.

“Yes, sir. I cannot lie to you or yours. If I see something, I’ll say something, or my mother won’t know my name.”

“Review the contract and sign it when you are ready. Eric can answer your questions and he’ll explain your new security protocols. Regardless of whether you sign or not, I require you in the west garden in a half hour. Shower and change your clothing. You smell of fear.”

“Yes, sir.” Michael got up to leave.

“And Michael?” Godric added. “If your employer is kneeling, you should be kneeling lower.”

Eric snatched Michael’s wrist and pulled him to the ground. He guided him to bow, then stood and pushed Michael’s head down in another supplication. They backed away from Godric’s audience. Only when they were ten paces afield did Eric steer the human to turn. Neither dared to look back at the simmering Celt.

Godric twirled his pen in his fingers. Two down, two more to go. He called for Isabelle over the intercom. She entered with trepidation, having clearly received Eric’s warning that Godric was very much holding court. She fell to her knees before him.

Godric set a gold crown on his desk and folded his hands. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t give this to you.”

Isabelle’s mouth was momentarily frozen with horror. “Do you wish to send me away?” she managed.

“I do not wish it, but you have forced my hand. You do not weave misdirection and tell fibs for Eric. You do so for me - and me alone. Take it.”

“Others will see this as a reward, Sheriff.”

“But not you.”

“I know it is not. You have taught me well. The crown is a target on my head. Respecfully, Sheriff, I do not want it. I desire a foothold to limit others’ power over me. The only foothold I have ever wanted is at your side.”

“Your maker sends his hearty congratulations.”

“Antonio is a fool,” she said. Isabelle lowered her head and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I will accept whatever task you charge me with, Godric, so long as you acknowledge that I accept it in your service.”

“I know this, Isabelle, and I am grateful. It is only temporary. We need stronger leadership in the capitol. You will be an excellent Queen.” She nodded and more tears streamed down. Godric handed her a handkerchief.  “It will appear as though I am retiring from public life and you are moving on to bigger and better things.”

“But?”

“But you will remember who you serve.”

“Always,” she swore.

“Then it is settled.” Godric passed her the crown.

She did not touch the gold circlet. “You are leaving Dallas.”

“I believe it is time.”

“Gracias a Dios.” She crossed herself, genuinely happy for him. A thought occurred to her. “Please tell me you aren’t leaving Stan in charge.”

“I may be old, mija, but I’m not senile.” Hearing her beloved Sheriff joke and call her ‘honey’ softened the blow. "And I will not wander so very far," he added.

She met his conspiratorial grin with one of her own. "How may I be of service, milord?"   

~OOO~

The west gardens of Godric’s estate contained a meandering path lined with flowerbeds, shapely cedars, and other conifers. A number of artificial ponds and water features dotted the lawns. The gardens were well-kept and nice enough, if entirely pointless. They filled an awkward space on the home’s footprint between the massive windowless garages and the squat wing intended for human lodgers. Privacy hedging screened the solid, high walls of the outdoor court, concealing the fact that it was effectively an exit-less prison yard. The adjoining human quarters lacked the heavily fortified doors and biometric locks of the sumptuous vampire suites, but the only way out was through a secure corridor in the main portion of the estate. The construction was entirely illegal and for good reason. It was not safe for human habitation. No one had occupied these spare rooms or their secret garden in some time - until now. There was a single, throbbing heart in one of the bedrooms.

Rosalyn took a seat under a pergola of jasmine. “Please command me, Godric.” It was the fifth time she had asked in as many minutes.

“No,” he said.

“You are being difficult.”

“I know.” He smiled and it did little to soften the hardness that had settled on his face since his return from the High Council. It was this same raw brutality hovering about him that parted the household’s underlings in the common rooms like the Red Sea. He barely stopped to grunt a welcome at Amleth.

“You’ll at least hold me, right?”

 “No. Your will must be stronger than your body.”

“I can feel your anticipation. You’re excited to see me feed.” It was unnerving and she was worried it would goad her into doing something incredibly stupid.

“Better?” he asked, cordoning off his end of their bond.

“No,” she said grimly. The warm evening breeze rustled the flowering bowers hanging from the pergola. Michael’s hot scent swirled in alluring eddies toward her, tangled with the heavy perfume of jasmine and clipped grass. “Please, Godric.”

“Be brave, my muse.”

She grimaced. "Bravery is what you're going to need if you allow me to harm a hair on that man's head." 

Godric offered no further words of support. Michael strolled across the lawn, sending a wall of rich, succulent heat crashing through the gardens. Rosalyn’s fangs dropped hard and cut her lip. Licking the wound, she clung to the stone bench for moral support. Eric had not exaggerated. Godric did not make things easy. She was afraid for the boy and afraid of her impulses so near him. “Hi, Michael.” she said, feeling shy. “Thanks for agreeing to come back here.”

“Of course. I am deeply honored,” he said.

He was too calm. ‘Be terrified!’ she wanted to scream at him. Or perhaps it was her instincts hoping he would run. She managed to keep an even tone. “You’ve really helped out a lot these past few days. How are you feeling?”

“Just fine, madame.”

“Can you…um…I’d rather you didn’t use all the formal speech they train you to use, okay?”

“Whilst in Madame's private audience, she means,” Godric interjected. He leaned back in his wide stance, hands shoved into the pockets of his grey pants. He watched the two interact with sly grey-green eyes.

“What should I call you?” Michael said.

“Rosalyn or Ros is fine. I’m sorry that we’ve not had the chance to talk.” Talking was the last thing her body wanted to do. Even the open air of the gardens felt erotically close and still not close enough. She wanted to crush his young, hard body to her mouth and gorge on him. His pulse was a thunderous roar in her ears.

But Rosalyn knew nothing about him. The decent part of her had a jumble of questions for him. Was he alright with this arrangement? Was there anything he needed? What sorts of things did he like to do? Perhaps they could get to know each other first.

“Shall we take a walk?” she suggested.

“You and your walks with strange boys,” Godric teased. “Look where that got you.”

“Oh hush. I’m annoyed at you.”

“I noticed. You can take it out on me later.” He winked and her fangs ached at the suggestion. “I might kindly suggest cutting to the chase, as they say. You are hungry. He is food.”

“He’s much more than that,” she said.

Godric snorted. “So everyone keeps telling me.” 

“You are here as our guest, Michael,” she explained.

“He is here as Eric’s employee,” Godric corrected.

“Whatever. I want him to be comfortable. Keeping pets is banned in this area, Michael.”

“I’ve heard about Sheriff Godric’s decree.” Michael nodded at their chaperone. “It is a very progressive position.”

Godric wandered behind the boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. Michael looked at Godric in surprise and his heart walloped a beat and began to race. Rosalyn let out an involuntary growl at the contact and she slapped a hand over her mouth. A corner of Godric’s mouth ticked up. He slid an arm around the boy, winding Rosalyn up further.

‘He’s mine!’ she thought, jamming the claim at Godric in the bond. If he felt it, he did not show it. Rosalyn’s desire boiled up unbidden from some deliciously dark place in her. A cool creeping sensation crawled over her skin. She realized it was her cold blood prickling - in what would otherwise have been a flush of sensual heat. She swallowed thickly, fixating on the dusting of fine hair peeking out from Michael’s v-neck t-shirt. He was still slightly damp from a shower and his skin smelled of soap and clean laundry. Her thoughts grew more lurid and explicit by the second.

 “You’ll excuse me for making you both an object lesson, but let’s examine what we have here,” Godric said. “Young one,” he said to Michael, “the situation you find yourself isn’t ‘progressive’. It is beyond dangerous. It is lethal. There is no such thing as safety with our kind. Full stop.”

Rosalyn protested. “That’s not the inter-species understanding we’re working towards!” She looked decidedly unconvincing with her large fangs.

“And work towards that we must,” Godric said, “but not from a starting point of willful ignorance. Not when you’re shaking from possessiveness over this boy and your judgment is crippled by gnawing hungers you can’t even name. Close your eyes and stop breathing, love. You need to dull your senses.” Godric turned Michael’s chin towards him with a tip of a finger. “You will never be closer to death than you are right now, Michael. I am a fate worse than death, if I choose to be.” The boy’s fearful sweat bloomed with the dread Godric was seeking.

“Stop scaring him.” Rosalyn gripped the concrete bench.

“I don’t do this for my enjoyment.”

“God, please. Just stop,” she said behind clamped-shut eyes.

“Why? What does his fear do to you, Ros?”

“It aggravates my prey drive!”

“Aye, it does. You are both trying to overthink something incredibly simple. You sound like very smart idiots. Stop wishing away danger and fear with logic and embrace it for the properly instructive voice that it is. Understand your instincts. Ros, do you trust yourself alone with this young human?”

“No,” she said, defeated.

“No,” Godric said. “And that is perfectly right. Michael, this newborn vampiress knows neither her strength, nor her abilities, and she understands precious little of her impulses. She doesn’t even know that were I not her maker, she would have just attacked me for embracing you a moment ago.”

“Oh. Yesssir,” he stammered.

“Distrust anyone with greater power than you, regardless of their species. That goes for you too, Ros.”

“Got it. Distrust everyone and everything,” she said miserably. 

“Really, Rosalyn? Insolence?”

"Sorry, Maker. I'm listening."

"Ros, I could feel the fear dripping from you the moment you laid eyes on Amleth’s children. I could also feel that you didn't understand why.”

“I…I don’t know why. I want to like them.”

“You haven’t been around a single unfamiliar elder until tonight. The majority of my subjects are babies. You could hold your own with most of them and you don’t even know how to fight. Such is the gift of ancient blood. Yours intuitively recognizes the superior powers of Amleth’s progeny.”

“They pledged fealty to me.”

“But?” Godric prompted.

“They do not answer to me.”

“Precisely. They are always, always, always Amleth’s creatures,” Godric said, very pleased she remembered this crucial lesson. She had still been human when she had witnessed him ream out Eric and Pam for forgetting the ultimate power of a maker’s command.

“Can you let Michael go now?”

“In a minute. You are on high alert having strange vampires in your territory, and having Michael walking around unclaimed is adding to that stress. I want you to take a close look at him, Rosalyn.” Godric gazed at the boy who so uncannily resembled him. He stroked his cheek. Michael fell instantly into the glamour and his lips parted. He folded deeper into Godric’s deadly arms.

The air blossomed with arousal, human and vampire alike. The thirst kindling in Rosalyn’s throat burst into a fire. She had to suck at the anticoagulant dripping down her fangs lest she drool. “This is what happens when you let your troublemaker brother procure for you, Ros. Eric hasn’t done you any favors by picking someone who is desirable to you in every way but one. He was amusing himself and made matters more challenging for you.”

“Is there something wrong with me?” Michael said. “I can change.”

“Alas, you cannot,” Godric said. “Your blood type isn’t ideal. But that’s perfectly fine. At the end of the night, hunger is hunger and food is food, isn’t it, Ros? It’s a luxury to be picky and it’s utter rubbish to subject our nutrition to culinary fads.”

“It’s unethical,” she supplied, and fuck this blather because she wanted to eat. She licked her lips. “I want him.”

“You can have me, beautiful.” Michael said, his voice thick with desire. He ran a hand down his fitted t-shirt. “Every inch.”

Godric raised an amused eyebrow. “If you’re going to hit on my wife, dear boy, at least do me the favor of giving her what she came for first.” The fog of Godric’s glamour lifted and Michael turned beet red. “Hold him like you would a glass, Ros. He is that fragile.” Godric let Michael slip from his grasp. “Catch his gaze and think of what you want. Tell him calmly.”

“You look good enough to eat,” Rosalyn told him. “Come to me.” She was not sure she had glamoured him. Michael went to her anyways. Her fingertips chased over his chest and arms and she brushed her mouth over his throat. She captured the skin between her lips and licked and sucked the flesh. Michael let out a deep moan. That was when she chose to strike.

Michael’s blood was wildfire, liquid ecstasy shooting through her veins. She drank and drank and there was nothing but the fount of hot pleasure. It flooded into her, rich and salty and strong. His artery thudded in her teeth and she continued to suck, the rhythm goading her on in spite of its slowing.

Some tiny part of Rosalyn’s mind tried to grasp at the thought Eric had given her to help stop feeding. “Think of Godric leaving you again,” he had suggested. She struggled to reach the thought. It was slippery and just beyond her touch, bobbing up and down in a river of crimson.

“Stop,” Godric commanded. Rosalyn reared back from Michael. Godric pulled the panting boy to his chest and quickly licked up the gush of blood on his throat. Michael writhed under Godric's efficient tongue and Godric nipped the boy’s earlobe with an impish smile.

Rosalyn was panting too, lips red and eyes ablaze. Her mind was overrun with decadent, depraved desires. None of her hungers were sated. She wanted to hike her skirt and ride the boy atop Godric. Drink from his thighs while he spilled his seed. Let them both ravish her until she could not tell them apart. Nothing but cocks and mouths and hands and blood.

“Sit down, Ros,” Godric said. He guided her to the bench and sat with her. “Stop breathing. Close your eyes.” She did, and it helped soothe her temporary insanity. He gentled her, speaking softly, bringing her down slowly from a delirious high.

“You have done well, young one,” she heard Godric say to Michael. “Remember to take your vitamins and ice your neck. That was not a gentle feeding.”

“I will, Sheriff. Thank you.”

Rosalyn peeked up from Godric’s protective shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“He’ll be fine, my love.” He reassured her, smoothing her long mane of hair. “Michael, have you made a decision?”

“Mr. Northman has the contract. I already signed.”

“Very well. Welcome aboard. My assistant Stan will take you to your new apartment. If he bullies you about the Lamborghini, remind him that the car is actually mine. Then remind him that you are mine. Then report him to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have a day task later today, as well as a night assignment tomorrow night. Shall we say 3pm to start? That will give you twelve hours of rest.”

“I only need six or so.”

“Yet eight hours of sleep is the recommendation for a boy of your age.”

“Respectfully, sir, I am 25 and a man.”

Godric stared at him. Michael lowered his gaze. “We are sending a chef to give you cooking lessons. We do not approve of your diet.”

Rosalyn's hands had wandered under Godric's shirt. She gave him a pinch and a stern look. “What Godric means is that I smelled your ramen noodles in the kitchen and, well, I’m sorry but I deep-sixed the rest of your groceries – not for my sake, but yours. If you’re helping my nutrition, I’d like to help yours too. You don’t have to eat like a broke college kid anymore. You’ll thank me when you hit 30 and your metabolism crashes.”

“Oh, sure. I do try to take care of myself. I work out. Running, lifting, yoga for flexibility.” He straightened his posture and carded a hand through his hair – a move which put his bicep on display.

Godric did not try to hide his amusement. “So you do work out, dear boy. You wouldn’t survive it if I let my wife have her way with you right now. Perhaps best to drop the innuendo. Unless, of course, that was meant for me?” Godric quirked an eyebrow and Michael blanched. “She would snap your cock like a twig. Remember that tomorrow night when you and she are sparring.”

“Sparring?”

“Sheriff Amleth will be leading you both through a basic martial arts course. That is your evening assignment. Neither of you have self-defense skills.”  

“I see. Should I bring anything?

“Just a good attitude, some gym clothes, and a very strong dose of respect for Amleth.”

“Yes, sir. Duly noted.”

“Alright then, stud muffin. You are dismissed.”

Michael blushed and bowed. “Goodnight, sir. Goodnight Madame Rosalyn.”

“Night,” Rosalyn said. Michael’s footsteps crunched in the grass.

As soon as he was gone, Godric turned to Rosalyn with a feral glint in his eyes. “I need you naked and on all fours. Now.”

Chapter Text

Eric was chewing on a toothpick, deep in thought, when Isabelle came into the living room. She crossed her arms and glared at him. He gestured for her to wait and remained focused on the chess board between him and Amleth. He settled on moving his bishop and Amleth grunted in response. It was a smart move. Satisfied, Eric looked up at Isabelle. “He gave me a human. I have to treat him with ‘dignity’. What did you get?”

“To be your Queen.” Eric ditched the toothpick with a curse and kicked his legs off the couch. “Exactly,” she said.

“Gods,” Amleth said, moving a game piece to capture Eric’s bishop. “It’s going to be that kind of century, isn’t it.”

Isabelle was not amused. “Do you have any idea how much trouble this will cause, Eric?”

Eric considered it. “It could be worse, Isa. We’ll run the hell out of Louisiana.”

“Sophie-Anne has been floating marriage proposals by a half dozen monarchies. She’s run afoul of the IRS.”

“She ran afoul of Godric. That’s all that matters, no?”

“You two sure pissed him off,” Amleth observed. “Whatever did you do?”

Eric sucked at his teeth. “I got Ros a donor while Godric was gone. It was her first live feed.”

Amleth shrugged in confusion. “Unfortunate but necessary, no?”

“We tried to cover it up. “

“Ah.”

“He looks like Godric,” Eric added.

“I see.”

“Ros made the kid come in his pants.”

“Oh dear.” Amleth covered his smile with long fingers. “Godric was gone for a week?”

Eric gave his brother a look. “Four and a half days.”

“Aiming for a new record, are we?” Amleth’s shoulders started bouncing in laughter until he could not hold it back any longer. Eric had truly outdone himself. Between inciting treasonous behavior in Godric’s Second in Command and attempting to conceal Rosalyn’s very “special” baby steps as a vampiress, Eric had managed to make the irascible ancient both furious and wildly jealous. Amleth cackled with his infectious laugh.

“Save it, pretty boy,” Eric grumbled. “You’re next. Sookie pulled her shit in front of Godric.”

“Well damn.” Amleth was not surprised in the slightest. “But you say Godric gave you a human? You don’t mean the – “

His answer walked through the main corridor, bandaged and dazed, led by Stan. “Well, hel-lo,” Amleth purred. He was up in a flash, trashing the chess game in his haste.

“I was going to have you in three moves!” Eric protested, half-heartedly chucking one of the fallen game pieces after him. It clattered to a stop at Michael’s sneaker and the human bent over to pick it up.

Amleth scanned the donor up and down. “My, my, my. What do we have here? Amleth of Cumbria, Sheriff of London. Charmed, I’m sure. And you are?”

“Godric’s,” the boy responded flatly.

“Oh yes – and Eric’s too, I hear.”

“He is my ward and my employee, Amla.” Eric zipped to stand between the two. He snatched the pawn back from Michael. “And there is an edict on him. Back off. Or have you forgotten the last time Godric had your fangs?”

“An unfortunate misunderstanding and he had yours too, as I recall,” Amleth said, still distracted.

“Just the one fang,” Eric muttered.

Stan shifted uneasily in his cowboy boots. “Sheriffs, beggin’ y’alls pardon, but I got orders to get this’un home.”

“Shame.” Amleth licked his lips. “There is still plenty to go around.” He grazed the boy’s cheek with his knuckles and Michael leaned away from the touch. His resistance was instantly foiled. Amleth caught his attention. Michael swallowed and his pupils dilated. No one was immune to the strange siren song in Amleth’s blood. Everyone wanted to be him or to be with him, often both – regardless of whether Amleth behaved badly, which he often did, simply because the entrancing devil could.

“You are so like Godric. I wonder…” Amleth peeked down the boy’s t-shirt and grinned.

Michael pulled his collar back from Amleth’s intrusive fingertip. “I have to go. I’m supposed to get eight hours of sleep. But, um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Will you then?” Amleth looked as pleased as the cat who ate the canary.

“Yeah. Godric wants me to learn martial arts from you. I took some karate when I was younger and I wrestled JV in high school, just so you know.” Eric rolled his eyes.

“Really,” Amleth said. “It will be my distinct pleasure to instruct you in any number of full contact sports, if you’ll oblige me.”

“Sure. Looking forward to it, sir.”

“You’ve been dismissed, Michael,” Eric said. “Goodnight.”

“Michael is it? How positively…Catholic.” Amleth sounded scandalized.

Eric took Amleth firmly by the arm. “I need to speak with you.” The vampires suddenly froze. Michael adjusted the duffel bag of clothing he was carrying over his shoulder, unsure of what they heard. Their eyes were fixed on the hallway leading to the secure guest suites. Moments later, Sookie came out and greeted the motionless gathering with a crazy smile. “Hey ya’ll. Oh hi!” She recognized the other human. She extended a hand to Michael. “We didn’t get a proper introduction. I’m Sookie Stackhouse.”

“Michael Corden.”

“I was just gonna order some takeaway.” Sookie giggled. “Take-out, I mean. They call it ‘takeaway’ in England. Isn’t that funny? Same language but how they came up with so many different ways of sayin’ the same thing as us, I’ll never know. Anyway, you want some? I can make it for two.”

“No,” Eric and Amleth said in unison.

“Sorry,” Michael said. He was unsure of the reason for the vampires’ harsh reaction. “Maybe some other time, Sookie. I’m heading home.”

“No worries. See ya, Michael. Oh, and just in case no one’s suggested it?” She pointed to the bandage on his neck. “Try some of that anti-bacterial spray with lidocaine if the bite gets itchy. Works wonders.”

“Sure, thanks,” Michael said. “Have a nice evening.”

Isabelle had watched the exchange unfold from the archway of the living room. She clucked her tongue and shook her head in dismay. Eric looked at his soon-to-be Queen, then at Amleth and the donor, and finally Sookie. He realized what a god damn nightmare Godric had given him. Between his incorrigible brother and Godric’s eager to please dark-haired doppelgänger and the fairy princess fangbait, this was a disaster already in motion.

Eric shooed Stan and the blood bag toward the foyer and dragged Amleth away by the arm. Amleth winked over his shoulder at the boy. “À bientôt, Michael,” he called out. Michael smiled back and waved. Eric cursed under his breath.

In Amleth’s guest suite, Eric laid into his raven-haired brother, painting an unflattering picture of the astronomic mess they were presently in and reminding him of how Godric’s current disposition was without precedent. “Rosalyn doesn’t have the first clue what a complete psychopath Godric can be, Amla. She’s trying to ‘handle’ him.”

“Why bless her heart,” Amleth said, channeling one of Sookie’s Southernisms.

“I can’t figure out how to communicate the scale of Godric’s strength or the depths of his twisted genius. Ros thinks he turned us over his knee and spanked us when we were naughty.”

Amleth sighed wistfully. “No, that’s only for very, very good fledglings.”

“Focus, you freak.” Eric leaned against the desk. “Ros does somehow manage to talk Godric down from his crazy tree. It’s the damnedest thing you’ve ever seen. But everyone is getting caught in his crosshairs in the meantime.”

“You are worried for her.”

“Of course. She’s my bloodkin.”

“She’s your bonded,” Amleth countered, all too familiar with Eric’s deflections. “Does she know how serious a permanent tie is? Do you, for that matter?” Eric glared at him and Amleth glared right back. “Listen to yourself, denying how much you care.”

“We have an understanding,” Eric said coolly.

Amleth raised his eyebrows, wholly unconvinced. “Here I thought you dragged me into the time-out corner over Michael.”

“Michael is a key side effect of this crapfest.”

Amleth examined his gleaming nails. “Why shatter Rosalyn’s illusions? Perhaps you are just dying to tell her how tough and brave you are for having survived all of Godric’s big bad Byzantine days.”

“I had to put myself between them in the middle of their first spat, Amleth. Imagine had it actually come to blows. Are you going to give her a demonstration of what it’s like to have your spine crushed by an ancient?” They both shivered at the memory. “I didn’t think so.”

“He wouldn’t,” Amleth said.

“I pray to the Norns that is the case. But as I’m a betting man, I know never to wager on what Godric will or will not do – which is why I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“Perhaps you are afraid, Eric. Perhaps I should be too.”

“Of what?”

“Of what happens now that Godric has moved on.”

Eric scoffed. “You’ll see for yourself how things are with Godric soon enough. He’s not different, Amla. He’s more. More everything. It’s glorious to behold.”

Amleth nodded in understanding. “Glorious and terrifying.”

“Precisely.”

“Mind yourself, Eric. Gods know I paid for getting involved in your shenanigans. He’ll shellac you for getting tangled up in hers.”

“Case and point. I knew the risk when I brought in Michael. Back off him. That’s an order. You mess with him, you’re messing with me.”

“Ditto for Sookie, little brother. Don’t think I missed how you were winding her up.”

Eric ran a hand through his hair. “Trade you.”

“Why trade when we can share?” Amleth said. “Double the trouble, double the fun – or something like that.” He sprawled out over the couch in the spacious sitting area of the suite. “You need to chill out, mate.” Eric mashed down a pithy retort. They would see how ‘chill’ Amleth kept when it came time to face down Roman and his hell-bitch sister. “Seriously, Eric. You’re off your game tonight. I don’t like it. You are letting this get to you and your color isn’t right. Want a hit?” He offered a pale wrist. Eric was about to refuse when he felt a misplaced heat rise in his belly. Eric’s glassy expression was not lost on Amleth. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

“No.” Eric blinked. Tasty as it might be, Amleth’s blood would not help him. The odd feeling built and he adjusted himself in his pants. Amleth propped up on his elbows and looked at him queerly. “Eric, what the devil is going on with you?” Eric was about to deny anything was amiss when his eyes rolled into his head and he dropped to the carpet with a bellowing moan. It was followed by a series of hard, full body spasms that left him grunting and gasping for air.

Minutes later, he finally rolled over on to his back, hair askew. Amleth was perched over the arm of the couch, peering down at him with absolute joy.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Eric said.

“But -“

“Not. A. Word.” Amleth peeled over in riotous laughter, gripping his knees to his chest as he wheezed. Eric shivered in a maker’s call and he slowly collected himself off the ground. Amleth pointed at the wet stain on Eric’s jeans and laughed even harder. Tears streamed from his eyes. Eric gave him the finger as he left.

Halfway across the estate, he could still hear Amleth. Eric paused at the master bedroom door. He had a fair idea of what to expect on the other side, but he was not sure why he was being called into it. Rosalyn broadcasted herself loudly and unfiltered in her bonds; she had not yet learned how to mute them. Eric was not interested in blocking their connection. He relished Rosalyn’s happiness. Her pleasure surging in his mind felt delicious. Judging by his internal clock, her appetites had been more than satisfactorily entertained for the last several hours. But it was not Rosalyn’s pleasure that had just stirred him and brought him to his knees. That was all Godric’s doing.

The heavy door shuddered as its large deadbolts disengaged and Eric’s eyes went wide at the scene inside. “Okay…” he said to no one in particular. He had not, in fact, seen this one coming. There were discarded blood bags strewn everywhere, as well as shredded sheets and pillows. A substantial amount of human blood had been splashed around. In the midst of the chaos, there were two very giddy vampires twirling and dancing to some slick music on the record player.

“Come, come!” Godric beckoned him while spinning Rosalyn in a circle. “I need both my progeny beside me.” A hand smear of blood striped Godric’s chest. He was clad only in a silk robe. There was blood matted in his hair.

Rosalyn, equally debauched, careened at Eric and took his hand. He quickly twisted away before she could latch onto him. She laughed and turned and twirled back towards him and he stepped aside again. “Eric!” she complained. He spun her around and brought her into a swing step where he could control her movement and keep her at an arm’s length. Godric continued dancing by himself. Eric looked at his maker, bewildered. What the hell did the old man expect him to do? Rosalyn was gleefully swept up in the heady thrall of unchecked bloodlust and marked six ways to Sunday as Godric’s. Godric had bred and fed and seeded his dam and her body screamed of his threatening claim. Even as her bonded brother, Eric was uncomfortable touching her without permission.

Eric pirouetted Rosalyn back to Godric, who caught the beauty by her waist and gave her a searing kiss. Godric gestured for Eric to take a seat. The record suddenly jumped and the music changed to a different song, this one slow and sultry. The record had not skipped – the needle was moved. Eric’s teeth dropped from his gums in shock and he swore. A tiny smile gathered at the corner of Godric’s mouth. Yes, his smile said. Telekinesis.

“Holy shit, Godric. When -” Godric shook his head. Not now. Rocking Rosalyn from behind, they slow danced closer until they were swaying between Eric’s knees. Rosalyn stumbled drunkenly and caught herself on Eric’s thighs. She laughed at the damp stain on his crotch. “You’ve been having fun!”

“Not nearly as much as you,” Eric said.

“Go clean up,” Godric told him. Godric tightened his grip on Rosalyn. “It is time to wind down, love.” Eric left the two lovebirds while he rinsed off and changed. Godric and Rosalyn were still slow dancing when he returned in a fresh racer tee and sweatpants. Godric deposited Rosalyn onto Eric’s knee and she nestled her head against his shoulder. Eric’s arms automatically folded around her, as though she had always been there. Not even Pam sought his affection quite like that. Rosalyn sighed and something relaxed in Eric too.

Godric pulled the footstool closer to Eric’s armchair. He reached over and carded his fingers through Eric’s golden mane, twining the soft strands. He ran a thumb over the shell of Eric’s ear. Elfin ears, Godric always called them. The thought made Eric smile.

In those quiet minutes, lost entirely in Godric’s intense focus and the calm settling into their bonds, Eric did not notice that the lights had dimmed, nor that the candles illuminated. It was only when his maker stood and pulled a different record from his shelf that he realized Godric was playing with his powers. The needle hit the vinyl record and the downtempo singer Godric had liked so much of late was replaced with something older. A frisson of recognition chilled the down Eric’s spine. The sultry notes of a piano and smooth saxophone lilted over the speakers. The slow tap of the drums rolled out heartache. Godric sat back down just as the lamenting wail of the legendary soul singer began. Eric could not school his features. He knew his face was raw with the memory.

Tearing down the backroads of upstate New York in his brand new ’68 Corvette, this song belting on the radio. Talking on the warm hood of the gorgeous car with his maker. Watching the same stars that had watched over them for a thousand years. Asking Godric yet again to join him in America. Yet again receiving the same answer. “Ain’t No Way,” was a song that dug up things better left buried.

Godric placed a smooth hand on his arm. “I should have said yes.”

Eric averted his eyes. “You did, eventually.”

“I should have said yes long before that.” Godric had deferred his move to the U.S. for nearly a century. And he had not been the man Eric had known once he finally came. Only since Rosalyn’s entrance in their lives had he found himself again. Eric had not been enough. Eric shrugged helplessly.

“I lost us a lifetime together,” Godric said quietly. “Perhaps two lifetimes.” Rosalyn was toying with the steel anchors Eric wore around his neck. Eric closed his hand around hers to still her. He did not want those symbols fiddled with, not when Godric was discussing something so serious. A tightness spread in Eric’s throat and he could not make himself speak. Godric did for him, his eyes searching and wet. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Eric squeezed the bundle of Rosalyn in his lap. Her pleasant weight was a reminder of the impossible gift Godric had given him. Godric made her for them both. A sister, a confidante. Eric finally had someone with whom he could share all of the mysteries and wonders of his maker without compromising Godric – and without compromising himself.

Godric furrowed his brow. “You do not accept my apology.”

Eric’s lips suddenly went dry. He licked them. Within his chest, in the place where Rosalyn resided, he could feel her urging him on: tell him, she said. Eric took a breath and risked it. “Maker, you were forgiven the night you first spoke to me and offered me an eternity at your side.”

Godric blinked back tears. “As were you, from the moment you accepted.” Godric pulled Eric’s face to his and nuzzled him. He let a deep, rumble of a growling purr against Eric’s throat. Eric swallowed, eyes closed. There was not a word in any language for that sound. It was his greatest weakness, his greatest drug.

“All the same,” Godric said, kissing him. “I was wrong.”

Rosalyn stretched up, cupped Eric’s cheek and gave him a tender kiss as well. “I should shower too.” She glided to the bathroom and Eric watched her, transfixed. She had the distinct air of a woman satisfied with her work.

“Ros will be busy training with Amleth tomorrow night,” Godric said.

“Will she.” Eric said neutrally. “I had hoped to start her on self-defense skills myself.”

“I know. Amla’s fighting style is better suited for her. You will introduce her to weaponry.” Eric did not reply. “I ordered extra steel when I made Rosalyn’s oathing knife. I assumed you would want to make her first weapons.”

“I’m thinking katanas.” Eric gave a furtive look at his longsword on the wall. He had not known it was here until Rosalyn walked into their lives and gave him a reason to enter his maker’s Dallas bedroom. “I was surprised that wasn’t one of the replicas.”

“The replicas are in the armory if you’d like to practice with them.” A beat of silence passed between them. “Do you think me very sentimental?”

“You did teach me that a vampire masters his emotions.”

“I did. And you taught me not to destroy the emotions that matter,” Godric said. Eric gave a shattered smile and ran a hand over his mouth, embarrassed and proud and willing back his own tears.

“I like seeing Grendl every night before I face the world,” Godric admitted.

“It’s okay if you want to put it in secure storage.”

“Never.” Godric gave Eric a sharp shake on his bicep and repeated his refusal. “Aldri, Eiríkr.” Godric would never let Grendl out of his sight. It was tantamount to giving the sword back. That would never happen. He would never renounce Eric’s oath.

Almost no one knew Eric had not been released. It had been an ugly matter between them. Godric could not, in good faith and with a clear conscience, promise never to release his child. What if Eric one day demanded it? They fought viciously over it. Eric wanted Godric’s word that he would never renounce their tie and yet the Celt refused to make false promises. Eric found their impasse intolerable. The cunning Viking engineered a workaround. He swore his fealty to his maker for all time or pledged to die by his own sword. The arrangement brilliantly bound them in mutual consent. Either Eric had to take Grendl back and prove himself an unfaithful liar in order to secure his release, or Godric had to foist Eric’s freedom upon him, knowing the stubborn man would die by his own hand just to prove his point. The sword would stay where it belonged – at Godric’s side.

Eric gave Godric a patronizing look. The sword had been there the entire time as a reminder of what Godric meant to Eric. “I know,” his maker said. “I should have known better. I will not forget again, my warrior.”

“As if Ros and I would let you try to check out again. It is two against one now, min lilla gubbe.” His little old man. Godric shook his head. It was an endearment for adorable babies.

“Are you satisfied? Are we good?” Godric said.

Eric’s icy eyes flickered over the arches of his high cheekbones. He licked his lips again in consideration. “Rosalyn is one hell of an apology, as apologies go. We’re good.” Godric clapped Eric’s shoulder and moved to the bed. He pulled the ruined comforter off and tossed it aside. “Would you care to explain why I was made privy to your little debauch this evening?” Eric swiveled in his chair and spread his knees, displaying the lingering and prominent effect of the passion that had incapacitated him through the bond.

Godric paused from stripping the bedsheets. “You are not fully healed. I was helping.”

“I was in the middle of a conversation.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

Eric chuckled. “Fair point. I’m a Virgo. I like to multi-task.”

Godric ignored him. “My children are running around my Sheriffdom looking deader than dead. I won’t stand for it. Come to think of it…” Godric flapped the fresh sheet out across the mattress with sudden determination and called Rosalyn. She popped her head out from the bathroom looking like a wet meerkat.

“Sit,” Godric ordered, snapping at Eric to join Rosalyn on the big bed. He took his time picking up the remains of their feast from the floor. “As I was saying, Eric, I want Rosalyn to have time to get to know Amleth better. They need to exchange blood again. I thought we might have a boys night out tomorrow. You’ve wanted to get suits made. I do have a wedding coming up. What do you say, best man?”

"I'd be honored," Eric said, genuinely surprised. He had not known they would include such honorific positions in the wedding party.

“Ros can start learning the Old Gaelic with Amla too.”

“Amleth’s is purer than mine, for sure,” Eric agreed. “I was lazy,” he explained to Rosalyn. “And liked the tongue of the Angles much better.”

“English certainly came to have its advantages,” she said.

Godric snorted. “He doesn’t have a lazy bone in his body, Ros. He’s just a terrible snob who won’t do anything if he can’t be the best at it. Amleth started with an advantage. He was born near Hadrian’s Wall where both Pictish and early Gaelic were trade languages. Whatever it is that I was born speaking – some kind of Celtic proto-Gaelic – it eventually split into Amleth’s languages. Eric’s Old Gaelic is perfectly serviceable, he just stubbornly insists on filling it with Norse.”

“Norse insults are far superior. I can think of several I’d like to share right about now,” Eric said.

“You’ll get her up to speed with all the Scandinavian languages,” Godric assured him.

A sly smile slid over Eric’s lips. “You think I wasted our sick days? Show him, Ros.” Rosalyn burst forth with a string of very creative oaths describing, in detail, how she would smite her enemies, raze their villages, desecrate the bones of their ancestors, and bring down the wrath of the gods in her wake.

“How very practical of you, Eric,” Godric sat down between them on the big bed and Rosalyn whispered in her husband’s ear. He smiled and kissed her. “That is much more like it, love. Though equally unhelpful for sending coded messages in battle.” Eric grinned, having heard every last filthy word.

Godric hummed in thought. “Ros, Eric says you were able to feed like me when he restrained you.”

“Oh.” Rosalyn bit her lip, sheepish. She buried closer into him. “Yeah. It’s….nice.”

“That is not just an enjoyable trick, darling. You’ve inherited that ability, much like your cuddliness.”

“My what?”

Eric laughed and ran a hand over his face. “Gods save us. Godric the Great, fearsome Dark Lord of Death, creates snuggle monsters.”

“He what?” Ros said.

It was Godric’s turn to look sheepish. “We always wondered. Eric is very tactile for a vampire, as am I. So are you, it turns out.”

“Is that bad?”

Eric shook his head vigorously and laid back, hands beneath his head. His maker automatically reclined and rested his head in the crook of Eric’s arm as he had for centuries. Godric pulled Rosalyn into his own chest. The three of them fit like perfect concentric shells.

“It’s not bad, but you need to hide it,” Eric said. “Our kind only seek touch to feed and fuck.”

“How do you figure?” Ros flipped over. “You always see vampires draped all over each other.”

Eric understood her confusion. “You’re talking about nesting vampires, Ros. The morons who end up in front of Godric or me because they are misbehaving. Unrelated vampires sharing close ground for the day amplify each others’ predatory drives. They get out of hand if there’s no clear leader.”

“It’s why I only allow Isabelle and Stan to stay here,” Godric said, “and why I keep their quarters on the far side of the estate, so we do not affect each other.”

“But look at us,” Ros protested. “How is this different?”

“We’re kin. It’s comforting.” Godric drew circles down her arm with a fingertip. “The blood knows its source.”

“You,” Rosalyn said and Godric smiled softly at her. He radiated contentment at being bracketed on either side by his powerful progeny.

Eric propped his head up on a hand. “Ros, if I wasn’t sure before, I was certain when I felt you want to shake hands with Costas and Eva tonight. They scare the shit out of you – as they absolutely should – and yet you still had that urge. You wanted to hug Mabel tonight too.”

“I just wanted to be friendly.”

“No poppet. The human urge to make physical contact died when you did. This is a tactile gift, or the early symptom of one, at least.”

“It could take centuries to develop,” Godric warned.

Eric nodded. “I was already flying when it really began for me.”

“What is it? What does it do?” Rosalyn was excited to discover her new strengths.

Godric chewed his lip. “It is a kind of psychic tactility. I can read beings’ emotional states. I can suggest them too if I focus. Eric’s still early in it. He can only read objects.”

Eric reached over and touched Godric’s tattooed collar to demonstrate. “Obviously I know by instinct this vampire is ancient, just like you, Ros, even if none of us can pinpoint his age precisely. Even without being his child, my senses tell me he is more than two millennia old. Twenty-three hundred? Twenty-eight hundred? It isn’t clear. When I touch his ink, I can date it. I know when the woad leaves used to make the pigment were pulled from the soil. I know the ground they were grown in.”

“Jesus,” Rosalyn said in awe.

“Really, really not Jesus,” Eric replied and they laughed.

“How annoying. You must both go around feeling like antiques appraisers all night. Pull out a chair to sit – ‘mid-century Danish modern in leather and steel.’ Try to write a letter – ’18th century federal secretary, walnut, Maryland.'”

Godric shook his head in wonder at the woman. “Your empathy, precious one, is truly unparalleled. You see this for the burden it is.”

“I might just bring gloves back into fashion. At least I won’t have to think about it for what, a half millennium or more?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Godric said. “My ability to sense both people and things came almost immediately. Only more recently have I found that I could influence others through touch.”

“‘Recent’ meaning like circa the 1500s,” Eric clarified.

“You say ‘others,’ Godric. Do you mean it works on other vampires?”

“All creatures,” Godric said in a small voice.

Rosalyn looked at Godric, then at Eric. Eric prayed she did not blast a sudden epiphany all over their bonds and give him away for having spilled information about Godric’s past. Rosalyn let out a wave of great sadness, but nothing more. She understood. The abuse Godric had suffered in his early centuries of undeath would have been terrible enough as it was. This power would have amplified the horrors beyond measure. Eric had an errant thought about Sookie and her own ability. Her suffering must not be altogether dissimilar. But Sookie was a distraction, he reminded himself. He batted the her from his mind immediately.

Rosalyn took a deep breath and brightened. “And you think I inherited this other thing? How I bit Michael? I thought I glamoured him.”

“Trust me, poppet,” Eric said. “You were squarely focused on that boy’s throbbing arteries. You didn’t speak.”

“It’s a kind of mesmerization through touch,” Godric explained. “You nearly did it tonight while you were feeding too, had I not stopped you. But an orgasm isn’t worth needing a transfusion, which is where Michael was quickly headed. You wanted your meal to feel pleasure and you were trying to will him to come through your bite. It tastes so much better.” Godric huffed a laugh. “I can’t tell you how hard it was not to influence you when we first met.”

Rosalyn’s mouth hung open in amused shock. “That’s why you were so pissed off when I touched you!”

“Yes. And you kept touching me, you temptress. Over and over! Making me feel your curiosity and your wonder and well…everything else.”

Rosalyn grinned at him and they were both melted in each other’s gaze. She collected herself and turned back to Eric. “You scoundrel. That’s why you were so obsessed with where you’d touched me in D.C.”

“Not the same! I was keeping track of my slip-ups. You know we are all hyper-aware of our scent trails. What is decidedly not normal is that I like to be handsy, even with those I don’t intend on eating. We have to be mindful of displaying it, lillasyster. We don’t want to broadcast that there is something different about us to every passing supe.”

“Are you sure you weren’t compelling me?”

“No. I can’t compel through touch – yet. I can’t read people yet either – just things. And I can’t glamour through voice alone while you’ve got me listing my flaws, though you can bet your bippy I tried. That’s what messed you up at the hotel. I was trying to throw more of the glamour into my voice than my gaze.”

“Great work, butthead.”

“But I sure as hell can mesmerize my prey with a lusty bite and enjoy a mouthful of hot endorphins while I feed,” Eric retorted. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you, sugar cakes.”

“Eric!” Rosalyn buried her face in a pillow and shook with laughter. “I thought that’s just how feeding was!” Godric started laughing too. He jostled her happily in his arms. “Just the House of Godric, my love. Everyone else must rely on traditional methods, I’m afraid.”

“I, for one, certainly prefer the traditional methods,” Eric said.

Rosalyn resurfaced, breathless. Her cheeks were tinged pink. She could still blush she was so newly turned. “Would you like to get your troublemaker brother back?” Godric asked.

“Yes,” she said and reached past Godric to remonstrate Eric with a feather-light slap. He made a sad face and she moved to slap him again with force.

“Careful, Ros, you nearly broke your hand on me the last time you tried that,” he teased.

“Well this time I have fangs, you jerk.”

“Oooh!” Eric said, waggling his fingers in feigned fear.

Godric snorted at the two. “Bite him, Ros.”

Rosalyn lunged at Eric and they tussled for a brief second before Eric ‘gave’ up. “Oh no. Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” he said.

Godric smiled mischievously. “Bite him like Michael. See if you can influence a vampire.”

Rosalyn jerked upright. “What? You mean…? No, Godric.”

“No?” Godric pronounced the word slowly, turning it in his mouth like a foreign sound. “It is nearly sunrise. I’ve cleared all of my tasks for the night but one: you.”

Rosalyn sat back on her heels. “Me?”

“You let Eric trick you. You are his bonded and his bloodkin. You should have known he wasn’t well, even though you were sick yourself.”

“How could I – “

“Tsssst. Do not argue. I am not done speaking.” Rosalyn pursed her lips, but did not protest. She was rapidly becoming acquainted to the sound of Godric in ‘maker mode’. “You cannot read anything through touch yet, this is true. But you do have your blood ties and you must learn to read them carefully. I’m not convinced you know whether you are sending impulses through your bonds or your body. I’m not sure I know either.”

“Thor’s hammer. You think she…Has she been influencing me?” Eric said in sudden comprehension.

“It is more obvious with Amleth,” Godric replied.

The puzzle pieces clicked together immediately for Eric. “How she held him when he was upset. Amla calmed immediately.”

“I think she’s done it to me too.” Godric did not elaborate. Eric was fairly certain he knew at least one unlikely incident that would qualify, thanks to his candid talks with Rosalyn.

“Did I make Eric sick?” Rosalyn’s voice cracked. She set a hand on Eric’s and a crimson mist films her eyes. “Oh no!”

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Eric said. He froze, then snatched his hand away like it had been burned. His response had been automatic. Had she done that or was that simply how he reacted towards her?

“I don’t think she can send specific ideas, Eric. I think she’s pushing her empathy into others. Sometimes. Not always. It is more than enough. She makes you want to empathize with whatever she is feeling for you.”

“So that’s a yes,” Rosalyn said, visibly upset. “Like a bad feedback loop.”

Godric stroked her damp hair, tucking a tendril behind her ear. “Eric and I are already susceptible to it, being bonded and tactile ourselves. Your tie to Amleth also predisposes him. The question is whether you can do it to someone else.”

“Should we call Isabelle?” Eric said. Godric thought they should wait.

Eric considered this revelation. Maybe he had been approaching his tactile powers all wrong. He narrowed his eyes at Godric, then focused on how much he wanted him to be happy. How their reconciliation made him feel. Eric set his fingers on Godric’s bare knee, just below the hem of his robe. Godric smiled. “You’re getting warmer.”

“That’s not just from the bond?”

“I think we never paid very close attention.”

“Great.” Eric sucked at his teeth in annoyance, completely unenthused. The damn power conveyed through empathy. All this time he had been trying to forcibly will impulses at people for his own selfish reasons. “You think I’ve had it all along.”

Godric’s smile broadened. “I suspect so.”

“That’s why the gift came to you when it did. You stopped being a mega-asshole during the Renaissance.”

“I wanted to learn from humans then, not bend them to my will. I had not thought about how it differed from a glamour until recently. I’ve never been able to manipulate others maliciously with touch, so I disregarded the power as useless.”

“I think it’s a wonderful gift!” Rosalyn nudged Eric’s foot. “Sharing is caring, Blondie.”

Eric looked at her lazily. “Do not let Amleth hear you say that.”

The house’s security system let out its loud beep, arming itself for the coming dawn. Godric slapped his thighs. “Alright then, Rosalyn. Your brother is still not fully healed. This displeases me greatly. What is to be done about that?”

“Oh…um…” she said. Eric silently begged her not to antagonize their maker or offer up suggestions. This could go any one of several ways.

“Eric, what would I do if I was a ‘mega-asshole’, as you so charmingly put it?” Godric asked.

Eric groaned. Great. He was the one who had done the antagonizing. “You are no such thing. You never were. I was insolent and spoke out of turn.”

Godric had a determined gleam in his eye. “Humor me.”

“Seriously?” Godric did not reply. “Fine. I’ll bite. Ros, if Godric was not the exceptional, enlightened maker that he is, he would shame and embarrass you by forcing you to heal me completely – body and blood – in spite of the fact that neither of us are interested in or comfortable with that kind of intimacy at this juncture. He might do it precisely because of that fact in order to ruin what should otherwise be the highly enjoyable occasion of having you for the first time. He is pissed at me for picking Michael as your donor instead of some nasty hag who would have disgusted you. I might add that his objections are absurd, since you’re both getting a hell of a lot of ‘inspiration’ from the little beefcake. So I’ll say ‘you’re welcome’ instead.”

Godric was not impressed. “Proceed – and stay on topic.”

“Godric would, I suppose, remind you that I drained myself not once, not twice, but ultimately three times to sustain you – even as you inadvertently sickened me, his beloved firstborn. He would probably call you ‘young one’ a few dozen times so that you don’t forget your total ignorance in this new world and remind you that I am twice your size and nearly 40 times your age, and that there are whole nations of vampires whose sum total of blood is less powerful than that which I fed you. He would similarly point out that the ancient power flowing through our veins is his and very much not ours to do with as we please, and that he could easily command us to serve him as he sees fit. If, of course, he was a ‘mega-asshole’.”

“Why do I get the sense that you spent your entire youth getting bitched out?” Rosalyn asked.

“Because he did,” Godric said.

She slid a hand beneath Godric’s robe. “But since you’re a wonderful maker, maybe just some quality time on the diving board, husband of mine?”

Godric tried to suppress a smile that grew into a silent laugh. “Nice try.” Rosalyn blinked hard, fighting the rising sun. Godric salvaged one of the unharmed pillows and took it with him to the antechamber door. “I expect you two to take care of each other when I cannot. Rosalyn, you have not offered Eric your blood.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize I should.”

Godric gave her a funny look. “You are his bonded. Heal him how you like, but heal him. It is your duty. I can only drain myself so much each night. When you’re done, come to bed. Eric, you go to ground downstairs too. I want my progeny near me.”

“But Pamela…” Eric started to object.

Godric looked over his shoulder. “Pamela didn’t heal you fully.” He let the ‘as I ordered’ hang threateningly in the air, unspoken.

“Where do you think I was headed next? She’s tiny. I’m huge. I didn’t want her tapped out.”

Godric, thankfully, accepted this answer. The antechamber door shut and Eric counted the 13 pattering steps as Godric descended the stairwell. He turned back to Rosalyn. She was growing more owlish and bleary-eyed by the minute. “Bite your wrist for me, poppet.”

“I figured you’d try to go for my femoral artery again.”

“I doubt that’s on the menu.” In truth, Eric doubted he could sink fang so near where she had been claimed. It was not going to be especially pleasant to drink from her at all at the moment.

Rosalyn brushed her hair aside and craned her neck. “C’mon then. Drink up.” Eric did not hesitate. He swooped her in his arms and leaned in to bite Rosalyn’s throat for the very first time – and nothing happened. Eric swore. “You’ve got to be…” He pulled them both back upright, his heroic vampire dip thwarted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Unbelievable.” Eric shook his head. Godric was messing with them. This was what Eric got for teaching Rosalyn to feed from a sexy human without Godric – limps fangs and a dry cleaning bill for his designer jeans. Eric took her hands. “Tell me you want to heal me.”

“I do.”

“Mean it, Ros. You’re marked and you don’t mean it.”

“You mean you can’t?”

“I mean I…just…hang on.” Not once in his undead life had his fangs ever gone soft. He popped his neck, rotated his shoulders, and took a deep breath to concentrate. He loosened his grip on her hands and refocused his thoughts. His mindset was wrong. He stopped pushing at Ros to give him what he needed and instead reversed it. Eric Northman, Prince of the ancient and most noble House of Godric, asked for help. The hunger rushed through his fingertips and his fangs instantly dropped.

“Did I – ?” she said.

“Yes, and so did I. We were cancelling each other out.”

“We must be stronger together,” she said and Eric knew he was hearing the echoes of something Godric had taught her. Something Eric, too, had been taught – and was being taught yet again.

“Point taken!” he yelled at the basement door. They could hear Godric laughing below. “Bastard,” he grumbled. “Now my lovely, where were we?”

Chapter Text

Amleth grunted as he blocked the kick to his head. "Dude, did she just snap something?" Michael said. The human had been banished to the corner of the gym after triggering Rosalyn's prey drive one too many times. Amleth had allowed the boy to continue watching the lesson from the safety of the sidelines. His sweat and adrenaline filled the air and helped keep Rosalyn agitated. But if he called Amleth 'dude' one more time, the London Sheriff was going to put him back in their session as fang bait. Michael had taken their invitation to dispense with the whole 'yes sir, please sir' formalities a bridge too far. Besides, he need not try so hard to gain Amleth's attention. For better or for worse, he already had it.

"Again," Amleth told Rosalyn. She jogged backwards and began the routine once more. She attacked in a flurry of fists and feet. Amleth circled, ducked, and dodged her strikes. As they came into close contact, he began deflecting the blows, laughing madly as he went.

Rosalyn was a quick study. She mirrored his positions in her offensive stances. Their hand-to-hand combat intensified. Her strikes brushed past him. "More," Amleth said. "Bring it. Come on, Ros! I know you've got more!"

"Get him, Ros!" Michael hooted from the corner. Rosalyn landed a cracking hit to Amleth's shoulder and he made a strangled noise through clenched teeth.

"Nice work, kiddo," said a voice from the gym exit. Eric leaned against the door frame, cutting a devastating figure in a smart grey suit. He had dressed up for his appointment with the tailor. Eric strode over to Amleth, clapped a large hand on his collar, and jerked Amleth's arm downward with force. It popped.

"Dude! She dislocated your shoulder!" Michael said.

Eric and Amleth exchanged a look. "Michael, you are going to want to dial down the bro-han with Sheriff Amleth about ten notches. Stat," Eric said. He lowered his voice. "How many breaks?"

"Four," Amleth mouthed silently.

The number raised Eric's eyebrows. "Impressive, Ros." He inspected Rosalyn thoroughly for evidence that she had been treated too roughly. She batted his fussing hands away. Satisfied that she was unharmed, Eric slipped into Norse to explain that he had not had the chance to break Amleth's bones when he was a newborn. Godric had forcibly separated them after Eric had been extremely naughty, so the world would never truly know whether Rosalyn had bested his record strength as a yearling.

"I'm sorry, Eric," Rosalyn said. "All I got out of that was 'four' and 'arm like the hammering blow of Mjölnir'. Can't you just tell me in English first? I'll learn faster."

Eric snorted. "Not a chance. You do know Amla is letting you land hits, right?" He ditched his jacket and tie on the side of the mat along with his socks and shoes. Untucking his shirt and rolling his sleeves, he took a position in front of Amleth. "Now watch how it looks in real vampire time."

Eric and Amleth began to spar. What had been balletic and measured with Rosalyn became brutal and lightning fast between the two men. They moved in short, rapid-fire bursts of blurring motion. Eric used his weight to his advantage, heaving vicious blows at Amleth, but Amleth's lithe frame made him extremely quick and flexible. The extra three hundred years he had on Eric did not hurt either. They were well-matched opponents.

Godric slid an arm over Rosalyn's shoulders as he joined her to spectate. She curled into his embrace. "You're back early. Was your boys' night out alright?"

"It was very nice. We were both eager to see how things were going with you." He planted a kiss on her mouth.

Rosalyn whispered into the shell of his ear. "Can I eat now?" He had not let her feed before her lesson. She was ravenous.

Godric tipped his head in consideration. "Reaffirm your bond with Amleth. If he finds your technique acceptable, then you may have Michael."

Rosalyn felt like a frustrated teenager. Being a newborn vampire was not dissimilar. "How will I know if I pass?"

"Don't worry. Amleth will let you know if you're off the mark."

"Great," she said without enthusiasm. "Another test."

Godric looked at her queerly. "You've been breaking his bones all night, my love. He's taught you to be dangerous, now you must also learn to be gentle."

"What?" she said, horrified.

Godric patted her knee. "Let Amla feed from your neck. It's a nice way to show your submission after pummeling him."

Rosalyn gaped. "But he didn't hurt me at all! Maybe a bruise or two, but they healed instantly."

Godric smiled. "And that is why Amleth is the one training you in combat." Rosalyn looked back to the mat where Eric had Amleth pinned. Amleth conceded. Eric punched him hard in the face anyway.

"Jesus," she breathed.

Godric whistled at the two men. "Enough." He turned back to his wife. "Go on. Have fun with Amleth. I'm going to work with Michael for a bit."

~OOO~

Amleth's guest suite was large, and yet the vampire's larger than life personality was barely contained by the space. Rumpled clothes were strewn everywhere. Amleth breezily circled through the room tossing discarded shirts and pants into a hamper. Two overflowing steamer trunks occupied the center of the suite. They were old. Rosalyn traced her fingers over the ornate hammered ironwork and wood struts of one trunk. Amleth paused what he was doing. "Marking your territory?" he teased.

"Oh! Sorry." She had forgotten that casually leaving her scent on others' things was a cardinal no-no. "Just admiring. I didn't think anyone traveled like this anymore."

"They don't. More's the pity for them." Amleth hunted for a pen in a pile of books and papers on the writing desk. He scribbled something down in a leather-bound diary. He wandered into the bathroom. She heard the clattering of toiletries. The shower turned on and she heard him get in. He had left the door ajar.

Rosalyn knew she should not let herself stare at Amleth while he pottered around – that part of her fascination with watching him glide among his mysterious belongings was his spellbind. She could not help it. She was anxious and curious about the man in equal measure. Sharing blood was an unavoidably intimate thing. Even though they were thinly bonded and they talked online, she did not really know him. She felt like she had followed a devilishly handsome stranger home for sex – and with her husband's own vague admonition to 'go have fun'.

Amleth was chatting blandly about his fondness for traveling on ocean liners and steam ships when he fell silent mid-sentence. He must have caught her staring in his direction or felt her thinking at him. "Apologies – I don't know where my head is at. Did you want to join me?" he said.

Rosalyn froze where she sat on the edge of the bed. "Uh, no…I'm good."

He resumed his lathering and rinsing. Amleth apparently took the 'wash, rinse, and repeat' directions on shampoo bottles to heart. No wonder his hair was so lustrous. There was a squeak of feet on tile and the thunk of the spigot being turned off. Amleth came out in a towel. Rosalyn knew his beauty was striking, and yet she was somehow always unprepared for it. He was slim-muscled and smooth as oiled olive wood save for a sprinkling of dark hair that chased down his chest. The trail traveled below the twist of terrycloth at his defined hips, leaving altogether too much and too little to the imagination. Rosalyn averted her eyes. He smirked at her shyness. "I had the scents of my meal, my children, Eric, and Michael on me. I may not be as uptight about blood sharing as Godric, but when you have me, darling, you will know it is me you are having. I expect the same. Now go wash."

Rosalyn could not escape to the bathroom fast enough. She closed the door and leaned against it. Had her heart still beat, it would have been hammering in her chest. Amleth had laid out a bathrobe and fresh soaps for her. She prodded her bonds with Godric and Eric for help. They were silent. Godric had said something about the importance of building her own relationships with others. She supposed this was his idea of non-interference. He had fantastically odd ideas about when it was appropriate to control absolutely everything and when it was okay to disappear into the shadows.

She scrubbed herself quickly in the shower, only half noticing the gaudy gold fixtures that featured so prominently in the house. When she re-emerged, she found Amleth still bare-chested and wearing a loose pair of black fisherman's pants. He was writing away in his journal. His wet hair curled darkly over his shoulders. The fact that Amleth was something like 1500 years old and not actually related to her was palpable now that they were alone together. Rosalyn remembered Godric chastising her in the desert the first time they had met. 'Don't you ever go wandering off alone with a vampire again. Never,' he had said. So much for never.

Amleth looked up. "You're only just realizing, aren't you."

"You are sheriff of London for a reason," she said.

He gave a secretive smile. "Quite a few reasons." He went to the bed and patted the spot beside him. "You've had more of your maker's blood in the past twenty-four hours than most children get in a century. It's obliterated most of our tie. You can't even sense my good intentions." He went to brush the hair from her forehead. She flinched. "We lose ourselves in the excitement of a fight. Even you, my little pacifist. You weren't noticing then what you sense now."

"You could kill me in an instant."

"Less than an instant, darling." Amleth ran a thumb over her cheek. He continued these microaggressions into her space as if to prove his point. "But I dislike even breathing the words aloud, Ros. I am your blood-sworn brother. You know you can trust me."

"Can I?"

He narrowed his eyes. Her skepticism offended him. "If Godric ordered me to drive a stake into my own heart tomorrow, I would do it without question. If my death could serve him better than my life, it would be my honor. I owe him everything."

"That is…really melodramatic."

"Is it? Eric slit his own throat for you. Did you think he was being melodramatic when he saved your life?"

Rosalyn exhaled. She had not quite thought about Eric's sacrifice like that. She had not realized he told Amleth so much, either. "Eric didn't hesitate."

"No, and neither would I. I only wish that idiot had taken my calls when you were sick. I would have been at your side helping instead of wringing my hands not knowing why I was being purposefully kept in the dark. Again."

"I am sorry I hurt you tonight," she said in a small voice. "I had no idea. You encouraged me to fight harder."

"And tomorrow I'll have you fighting harder still. You're a nasty piece of work for a newborn, madam. A bit more training and you'll be able to handle weres and youngling vampires, no problem."

"Really?"

"Yes. I thank the gods you are with us, but by Jove, Godric makes terrifying children. Which brings us to the matter at hand. You could do serious damage to one of your subjects on accident. Four of those hits were enough to break vampire bone."

She flushed with embarrassment – and the vampire in her surged with excitement at her power. "Sorry."

"Every single swing you took at me would have crushed a human body into a meat smear. We can't have that, can we?"

"God no."

"I can't have you hurting Michael, Ros. He has a bright future." She nodded hurriedly in agreement. Amleth leaned in to whisper to her confidentially. He was too close. Too ancient. Too beguiling. "Especially since I plan on stealing him from you."

Rosalyn felt cold blood flush in her cheeks. "Amla, he is not a pet."

"No, he isn't…Yet." He winked.

"He is mine."

"We can share, no?" The mocking, seductive twist of Amleth's mouth and the flash of his eyes beneath his dark brows was all it took. Something feral snapped in Rosalyn. She snarled and lunged. Amleth caught her by the throat before she even sensed him move. "Retract. Your. Fangs." He tightened his grip minutely. Her teeth snapped back into her gums. "That, young lady, was unacceptably rude. I was just teasing you."

"Let me go, Amleth," she said, trembling.

"I haven't dismissed you." He pulled her closer to his face – toward his gleaming canines.

"I want to go!"

He gazed at her lazily. She swallowed. Her neck might as well have been encased in iron. "If you let your instincts reign like that in front of anyone else, you're going to have a devil of a time as Godric's consort. Eric is right. Godric has indulged himself and drawn out every second of your infancy. You ought to know better by now." Rosalyn set her jaw. He released her with a frown. "Get out."

She scrambled off the bed. "Godric said I had to renew our blood bond."

He raised an eyebrow. "So he did."

"But…"

"But I am under no such obligation, am I? So get out."

The security lock on Amleth's door clicked loudly behind her as she left. Rosalyn cursed under her breath. That could not have gone worse if she had tried. Amleth's rejection curdled in her stomach. Failure rung in her ears. And though she had not known what, precisely, she had expected out of the encounter, something like the disappointment of a bad date stung at the base of her throat.

Rosalyn waited outside the ball room where Godric was holding court. He was hearing a case between three underlings. They were disputing a property title. The legal jargon and petty arguments of the case washed over her in waves as her distress mounted. She was starving, she was upset, and she had majorly messed up. Finally the visitors left, nodding to her as they passed. She peeled around the door frame and made the long gangplank walk to Godric's desk.

Godric looked up from his work. He said nothing and waited for Rosalyn to explain herself. "I, uh…yeah. That didn't go so well," she said.

"There's O-neg in the garage freezer," Godric told her neutrally. "We'll give Michael a rest tonight."

Despite him not having said a single, disapproving word, her new nature was dismayed. Her maker had asked her to do something - and she had failed. "I snapped at Amleth," she confessed. "He teased me about taking Michael away."

"And now you understand hunger. It fed your fight, but it starved your mind of common sense." Godric folded his hands, ever a vision of serenity.

"I think I offended Amleth. He was promising me his loyalty and I was the one who ended up being untrustworthy."

"Then you'll find a way to appease him."

"He's not getting Michael."

Godric nodded thoughtfully. "You'll figure out what to do. Better to make these mistakes with your brothers than with real foes. They are here as your mentors."

"I feel like you set me up to fail, Godric. I don't appreciate your whole sink-or-swim teaching approach. You do realize I hold degrees in educational theory, right?"

"I am aware."

"Then what do you have to say for yourself?"

He crooked an astonished eyebrow. "Nothing. Are you quite finished?"

Her face darkened. "No, I am not finished." She planted her hands on her hips. "Where is the man who promised to communicate with me? You've had Eric literally throw me in the deep end of the pool rather than give me clear guidance. All Eric has done is lecture my fucking ear off since I rose undead but at least he's told me what is happening around me. I'll take his mansplaining any day over your silence. You're pushing me into a relationship with Amleth that I don't even understand and now you have the gall to say that sending me into his clutches half-starved was part of my schooling. That's not a teaching method - it's manipulative, medieval bullshit!"

Godric leaned back in his chair and leveled his gaze at her. He spoke slowly, each word hung with a threat. "You do not speak to me that way in here. Apologize."

"You know what? I am so not feeling the whole 'Maker Daddy', 'court-is-in-session' thing tonight." She spun on her heel.

Godric was instantly an inch from her face, blocking the exit. "Apologize. Immediately. That is your hunger speaking and every single one of my subjects here tonight just heard you swear at their Sheriff under his roof."

"Sorry," she spat.

"For?" he demanded.

The words slid off Rosalyn's tongue with acid. "For being disrespectful, Sheriff." Godric allowed her to push past him. She had the distinct feeling he would never have permitted it in his younger days.

Storming down the hallway to the garage did little to dissipate her frustration. An hour later, Pamela found Rosalyn still hiding out there in one of the fleet's convertibles. Rosalyn had her feet dangling out over a window and a half dozen empty blood bags on her chest. "Trouble with the boys?" Pam asked.

Rosalyn sat up. She had not thought to seek out her - whatever Pam was to her - for help. "This house is overrun with testosterone. How have you managed to stay sane with them?"

"You've got two options."

"Okay?"

"Just kidding," Pam snorted. "You've only got one option, so not much of a choice at all." Rosalyn flopped back down in the backseat of the car with a groan. Pam sidled over and leaned against the door. "Beat them at their own game, cupcake."

"Great," she said.

"Stop guessing when they throw you into an unfamiliar situation. Just suck it up and ask what they want. They're men. They love to hear the sound of their own voices." Pamela cackled. Rosalyn was not amused. "Ros, I know you're a 'can't everyone just get along' type, but you need to be the 'make everyone behave' type. You've got leverage now. Start throwing them into some situations of your own design."

"They are all master strategists and politicians, Pam. I'm not going to win that game."

Pam scoffed. "Godric is completely mad for you. Eric is disturbingly sentimental around you. The Area vampires adore you and half of the supes in America are waiting on tenterhooks to hear what you're going to say at the New Orleans summit. I'd say you're doing just fine."

"So fine that Amleth just tossed me out of his suite like he'd ordered the wrong donor."

"Amleth is a prima donna who lives for Godric's approval. If it were me, I'd play on his vanity to straighten him out."

"Thanks, Pam. I appreciate the advice." Rosalyn sounded less than convinced.

Pamela clacked her long nails against the red sports car. "Being in this family is not for the faint of heart. You've got what it takes. Use the resources at your disposal. Eric can help you with Godric and Godric can help you with Amleth and I, well, I can help you with those hooves you call toenails."

"Pam!"

"Seriously. You are overdue for a pedicure."

"Why do I suspect you aren't offering to help me out of sisterly love?"

Pamela gave a showstopping grin. "Now who's the straight-A student."

"Godric hasn't forgiven you for the fundraiser."

"Forgiveness isn't exactly in the old man's vocabulary. Put in a good word for me, will you? And let me know when you're free for a mani-pedi. We'll talk shop then." With that, Pamela pulled a box from the storage shelf and left Rosalyn to stew over the family's convoluted politics.

Pamela was not wrong. Eric had given her valuable insight into Godric and Godric was certainly the final word when it came to both Amleth and the Viking. "But who's going to help the boys with me?" Rosalyn asked the empty garage. A whisper of a smile traced across her mouth as the wheels in her head began to turn.

~OOO~

Over the next several nights, Rosalyn filled her many roles in the household without missing a beat. She made sure to eat plenty each night before starting work, since apparently as a vampire she got outrageously, dangerously hangry. She assisted Godric and Isabelle with the Sheriff's duties. She hosted their retinue and got to know more of the Area's subjects. She ingratiated herself with the were-staff by asking them lots of questions about the estate's security and praised them where it felt appropriate. Rosalyn even let Pam do her nails – twice – while they arranged and rearranged the wedding seating chart.

What Rosalyn did not do was cozy up to Amleth. She apologized for her lack of control and then proceeded to more or less ignore him. They had their combat sessions in the gym each evening at the appointed hour. She trained tirelessly to hone her skills and harness her strength. She asked him to push her harder, which he did, and she thanked him after each lesson. But otherwise, she paid him no mind. By the fourth night, he sidled up to her like an ignored cat. "Sookie was going to put on some Buffy tonight for everyone to watch. Would you like to join us?" he said.

"I've seen it. Thanks though." Rosalyn turned to leave. Amleth caught her by the arm. She set her hand on top of his. "What's up?" she said, focusing on how disappointed she had been by their private encounter.

"Let's take a turn through the east garden."

"I don't really care for those gardens. They're under surveillance." Rosalyn continued to think hard on her regret, pushing her feelings through her hand. She had no idea if her empathy would work. Perhaps like Eric, she was acting selfishly and it would misfire.

Amleth's expression shifted subtly. His green eyes glittered darkly. "Then let's have a post-workout drink in my suite."

"I've got other things to do, Amla. Sorry. Have a good evening." Rosalyn breezed through the common rooms past Eric. He glanced up from a booklet of Sudoku puzzles he had balanced on one knee. When Eric looked back down, a tiny smile curled at one edge of his mouth.

Amleth tried again several nights later. He called to Rosalyn from the salon, where he was posing for his child Eva. Eva was a gifted artist and she spent most nights in front of an easel. Rosalyn found her sketching Amleth, who was wearing nothing more than his gold rimmed aviators and a well-placed knee. "Eva is going to paint us," he said cheerily. "Shall we have our first sitting tonight?"

Rosalyn picked up several discarded drafts of Eva's work and thumbed through them. "Pam booked a wedding photographer. She'll get shots of us then."

Amleth pushed his sunglasses onto the crown of his head and looked over his shoulder at her. His ability to shift shadow and light across the edges and hollows of his features was some sort of unholy supermodel power. He wielded his beauty like a weapon. "This would be a formal commission done in oil for my Sheriffdom, love. Not a wallet-sized photo to show off at parties. I'm going to lend it to the London Portrait Gallery. The Old World needs to know where you stand."

And who she stood with, Rosalyn supposed, but she held her tongue. She shifted on her feet. "That sounds like a major undertaking."

"It is. It is quite an honor to be invited to have your portrait displayed at the Gallery. You'll be among the other notables of our kind. Eric wasn't asked until the 18th century."

Rosalyn toed the carpet. "All the more reason to wait, then. I'm nobody."

Amleth sat upright in annoyance. "Regardless of whoever you think you aren't, I am a Board Trustee. I'm not asking."

"Of course, I'd be honored. I'll talk to Godric about it."

There was nothing clever Amleth could say. Rosalyn felt a ruffle of his frustration flutter in the remains of their bond as she turned on her heel and walked out.

Later, when no one was looking, Eric caught Rosalyn by the shirtsleeve and pulled her into a narrow utility closet in the hallway. He kicked the door shut with a heel. "You're playing with fire," he said huskily. He pushed her up against the wall and scented her deeply. Her power game with Amleth had apparently excited him – a lot.

"Is that a warning?" she asked.

"Fuck no. I love it. Make him beg." Eric dragged his fangs over her throat. "May I?"

"Are you offering too?"

"Of course," he said, and flipped the hair off his neck. The offer was more than tempting. The mad ecstasy of Godric's blood in their veins coupled with the intensity of being fully bonded to each other sent them into a delirium when they shared. But Rosalyn was not about to let herself be distracted. She pushed the pad of her thumb against Eric's canine and let him suck it. He closed his eyes and moaned.

She patted his cheek in reproach. "It isn't a competition between you and Amleth to see who can get my blood."

He licked his lips. "Didn't say it was."

She leaned upwards on tiptoes. "Then stop making it into one." Eric trapped her thumb between his teeth and he grinned in delight. He let her go, but not before leaving his own bloodkiss on her finger. She studied it for a moment, then sucked it away with a pop.

At least Rosalyn knew she had Eric's support. She was entirely prepared for this to blow up in her face.

By the end of the week, Amleth sought Rosalyn out in her part of the estate. He rapped his knuckles on the doorway of the library. "May I have an audience?" he said playfully. Rosalyn set down her book. She was reading up on modern religious fanaticism. He took a seat without invitation. "I know that - " he began.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Amleth," she said, interrupting him.

"Yes, that was - "

"-I am not done talking." Amleth blinked in surprise. He looked exactly like one of her colleagues when they assumed they could come into her office and take control of a conversation. Pamela had been right to remind her of her clout. This was her office now. And in a very real way, Amleth was her colleague too.

"Let me be plain," Rosalyn said. "I tend to follow my heart and jump into things without asking questions. So let's begin at the beginning. I don't know anything about you."

"I'm an open book." He smiled beatifically in a way that drew her attention to his charming eyes.

"Open books don't try to bedazzle their readers. I don't appreciate you making sparkle eyes at me every time you want something."

Amleth laughed out loud. "You, darling, sound exactly like Eric when he was young. He took great joy in punching me in what he fondly referred to as my quote 'stupid beautiful fairy face'."

"He still does, from the look of things. I hear you bossed him around quite a bit."

"He desperately needed it."

"Good thing I am not him. Don't confuse us, Am. I've got a teleconference in ten minutes and I need to finish preparing."

He glanced at her choice of reading material. "Is the Fellowship of the Sun up to something?"

"They are always up to something."

"I'm happy to sit in on the meeting," he said. "I often find that - "

"Were you asked to sit in?" Her question caught him short. "We will summon you if you're needed. Let's pick up this conversation another time." It took all of her willpower not to excuse herself as she left the room. She hated being rude, but then, a man in her shoes would not think twice. Rosalyn scooped the book up and breezed out of the library. Her office, her workplace, her territory, she reminded herself.

Godric eyed her when she took her seat beside him. He said nothing. Rosalyn knew better. He saw and heard almost everything. After the meeting concluded, Amleth appeared at the far end of the court. He bowed. "Is this a good time?" he said.

It was not even remotely a good time. Their teleconference with the King of Texas had been tense and Godric was pissed about everyone's incompetence. Someone with ties to the Fellowship of the Sun had tried to acquire explosives. The King's guard had failed to catch the man. Godric flicked a finger at Amleth to approach.

"Rosalyn is making excellent progress in her physical education," Amleth said.

"And?" Godric said.

"I'd like her to start working with other opponents."

"You want her to spar with your children."

"I wouldn't trust her with anyone else. But I'd still like a more controlled setting. I want to know what everyone in the ring is going to do before they do it. As you know, we've not renewed our bond."

"And why is that?" Godric said.

"Ask her. I've tried."

Godric turned to his wife. "What's the problem?"

"I'm not comfortable with it," Rosalyn said. "It's too fast. I don't know Amleth. All I have is other peoples' word that I should trust him and that we should have this connection. That's not good enough for me."

"Your maker told you to!" Amleth said in outrage.

Godric let his gaze wander back to Amleth. "My wife has not deemed the conditions sufficient to merit the gift of her sacred blood."

A pained wrinkle crossed Amleth's face. He nodded and left the hall without a sound. When he was gone, Godric sighed. "Was that the outcome you desired?"

"I think so. Why do I get the feeling you're about to ream me out?"

"Tsk." He pulled her into his arms. "I am so grateful for you." When he pulled away, she was surprised to see a mist of tears in his eyes.

"What did I do wrong?" she whispered.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "I need to do rounds tonight in the city. Will you come?"

~OOO~

The noise and lights of Dallas sent Rosalyn's head spinning. Godric kept a steel arm around her. There were people everywhere - eating on the sidewalk, tapping madly at their phones, bustling through busy carousel doors to appointments and destinations unknown. When she finally grew too overstimulated, Godric flew her to the top of the city's tallest building. They stood together on the Bank of America tower and peered over the perilous edge. Hot wind whipped Rosalyn's hair around her face.

"I used to come here a lot before we met," Godric said.

Rosalyn watched the traffic – a city shrunk to toy miniatures beneath their feet. There must be hundreds of thousands of humans down below. At these heights, every single life seemed insignificant. Unreal. "I don't like it," she said. Rosalyn could sense the eastern horizon more acutely. Sunrise was hours away and yet her instincts reminded her she was more vulnerable at this elevation. The sun's rays would touch this rooftop long before they crept over the horizon to meet the ground. "Don't come here anymore. This is not a good place for you." Godric looked at her, flustered. He had not meant to reveal so much by taking her here. Or perhaps he had needed to reveal everything. Rosalyn glanced eastward and she knew. This was a place for disconnecting with the world. This was a place for dying. "Get us out of here. Now, please." Godric did not hesitate.

They landed outside a pharmacy. "I want to check something," he said. Inside, the smells of packaged medicines and sick bodies were especially unpleasant. "Wait here." His voice held a command. She was stuck by a bin of chocolates. She had not realized how much plastic and other chemical garbage was in processed food. It was revolting.

Godric paced down the aisles searching for something. He caught the attention of a woman in a red vest. She lit up upon seeing him. Rosalyn heard Godric tell her to meet him in the back.

"Problem?" Rosalyn said when he returned to her.

"Nope. Opportunity." He guided her to the far corner of the store.

The woman deflated when she saw Rosalyn. Her nametag read 'Grace'. She was the assistant manager. "I didn't know you brought a friend," she said.

Godric glanced at Rosalyn. "Her? My maker is just here to keep an eye on me. I'm young, you know? Let's go into the back room."

Grace hesitated. "It's against store policy. Corporate could fire me."

Godric did something Rosalyn had never seen him consciously do. He ran a hand behind his head and down the neckline of his unbuttoned Henley. "I thought you wanted me," he whispered.

The woman quickly punched the code into the door lock and ushered them into the stock room. Rosalyn was fairly certain she had not been glamoured yet. Grace was simply desperate to get into her husband's lying pants.

"Stay," Godric said to the woman in a raspy bark. That, however, was a glamour. He breezed past her to a set of staff lockers. He opened one, rifled through a purse inside, and pulled out a handful of vials.

"V!" Rosalyn gasped.

Godric pocketed the vials and sucked at his teeth. "I knew you were looking for trouble, Grace, but this is criminal. Who is your vampire supplier? Don't make me force it from you."

The information tumbled out of her. Godric recognized the name and the smell on the vials confirmed it. The offending vampire was not, thankfully, a resident of Area Nine. It was one less trial for Godric to hold. Unfortunately for Isabelle, the culprit was from the Louisiana Kingdom she was about to inherit. Godric grunted in exasperation. Sophie-Anne had run Louisiana into the ground. "Ros, scent this woman and tell me what you find."

Rosalyn inhaled. "She has wounds on her thighs."

"But she's not claimed. Which means, my love, that she's fair game. Eat."

"What?" Rosalyn stammered.

"She's dealing and she's been trading sex for illegal drugs in her workplace. She is guilty. My verdict is final. The human police will be here shortly. Drink up."

Rosalyn's body moved before she had made the decision. A hot spray of A-Negative hit the roof of her mouth and she forgot why she had been reluctant to feed off of someone without their explicit consent. Godric pulled her away far too quickly and his mouth crashed hot and needy on hers. "Gods, I can't tell you what watching you feed does to me." Her body responded to that too, and again Godric drew away from her. "Soon," he promised, lips crimson.

They left Grace, former Assistant Manager and newly convicted V-dealer, to be booked and processed by the police. Godric kept the evidence for Isabelle.

Though Godric had flown Rosalyn to some of the key hot-spots in the dense heart of the city, they did the majority of their patrol behind the wheel. Godric took a scenic route, passing through winding neighborhoods with heavy oaks. He slowed for a stop light and took a deep breath. Rosalyn sensed he was readying himself for a tricky conversation. The ancient sometimes struggled with words like a hermit who had forgotten the society of others. She had more than a sneaking suspicion he wanted to discuss her standoff with Amleth. All she wanted to do was get home and have her way with Godric until the sun rose.

Godric tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Not long ago, in anger, I said the wrong thing to you about your death."

"Did you?"

"When we argued. I didn't say what I meant to say."

"Oh. Well. What did you mean to say?"

"You must understand – and hear me out before you argue."

"Shoot."

He huffed a mirthless laugh. "You aren't going to hear this like a vampire. You're still very human."

"Jesus, Godric. Just hit me with whatever you're working yourself up to, please, so we can talk about it?"

"Very well. Killing you was the most erotic moment of my life."

The light turned green and bathed them in an eerie pastel glow. Rosalyn sat in stunned silence. Godric's unnerving stare did not waver. "Draining you with abandon, giving in to that most primal urge to feast on the one I desired most, draining myself over and over and over to fill you and bring you into the night until I myself was nearly gone, binding my soul to yours…" Godric swallowed, his face pained with pleasure. "It was exquisite. You are exquisite." A car honked at them from behind.

"Creation is something very sacred," she said. "I won't pretend to understand."

"I shared that same sublime death and rebirth with Eric too." She nodded. It was still hard to conceive of the lifetimes upon lifetimes he and Eric had shared. Godric made a choked sound and cleared his throat. "I only gave Amleth death. I denied us the rest."

A string of cars began honking furiously behind them. Heaven help the drivers if Godric decided to get out and dispute the matter. Blessedly, Godric let his foot off the clutch and the vehicle lurched down the lane. He drove several blocks before speaking again. "I don't regret refusing to turn a child not of my own choosing. But I regret not seeing how I would choose Amleth over and over again. I brought him to the precipice of death. I have spent every night since giving him the life I failed to offer him. I am half his maker and I will never stop trying to make up for the other half I cannot be."

"He is all you have left of Tarquin," she said softly.

"Amleth is my child, Rosalyn. Try to love him a little, if only for me."

"I care very much for him. He makes it easy! Amla is captivating and clever and he's been so helpful. But Godi, to me he's ancient and scary and I have zero idea what the boundaries are with him. I know I'm still thinking like a human when I assume I must be his kinda sorta step-mother. I don't know what it means to be the consort of his adopted bloodline. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

Godric rolled his eyes away from the road to look at her. If she had meant to soften him by accidentally using Eric's old nickname for him, it worked. "Do whatever you like with him, lover. He is mine, as are you. I will not tell you how to love him."

"That is super vague."

"No, it is liberating."

"Amleth is way too pretty and flirtatious to not have clear boundaries. So is Eric, for that matter."

"They tempt you."

Rosalyn was not quite ready to admit it. "Doesn't that make you jealous?"

Godric gave a sly smile. "You forget that I am the one who claimed them - and you. Each of you has tempted me in your own way. No one can change what you are to me, Rosalyn, certainly not with physical passion. We are vampire. We hunger for sensory experiences. Human reproductive drives are nothing compared to a vampire's vast appetites." Ros grumbled something noncommittal and fairly obscene. "If it makes you feel better, it is because you worry that I might be jealous of their attentions that I know I don't need to be jealous. If you stopped caring about my opinion, I would certainly remind you of who I am to you and what I have to offer."

"Yeah right. Heads would roll if someone laid a lusty finger on me."

"Apart from your bloodkin? Absolutely. Don't you even dare look at another supe for the foreseeable future."

"I wasn't planning to. I assume you'll be following your own rule?"

"Of course."

Rosalyn furrowed her brow. "Eric..."

Godric stiffened. "Eric what?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. "

"Did he push too far with you? I'll have his bollocks if he -"

"No! Nothing like that. Nevermind."

Godric whipped the sports car to the shoulder and stomped on the brakes. "Eric what? Finish that thought. Immediately. I will order you, Ros. No secrets." His tone was deadly. Nothing came between Godric and his progeny. In that moment, Rosalyn had a new appreciation for just how ballsy Eric had been to intercede in her and Godric's spat.

"He hasn't done anything. I don't want to tattle on him for nothing."

"You've been drinking from him. You've a better idea than I of what's in his head just now. What is going on? I will not ask you again."

"It's just…He's really into Sookie. I don't think he realizes how much he thinks about her." Rosalyn fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "That's not good, is it?"

The muscles in Godric's jaw strained. "No, it is not good."

"It's not just your prejudice against the Fae, I hope."

"I'm not prejudiced against Fae folk, I'm prejudiced about our unreliable ability not to eat them. We are the predators. It's our responsibility to treat them respectfully."

"And you don't think Eric will?"

"If he doesn't realize what he's doing, then who can say? It's a problem. Getting tangled up with other supes mixes sex and power. This is what I've been trying to tell you, Ros. I don't care about sex. I care about unequal power. It's what someone can do and who they are that matters, not what they are. Sookie's abilities and her family ties make her potentially dangerous to us. It doesn't help that Niall and I have accrued a great number of blood grudges against each other over the years. Eric knows all this."

"But?"

"But, indeed. I've noticed his interest too. No good can come from it."

"I don't want to see Eric get hurt."

Godric hummed in agreement. "Sookie doesn't exactly inspire faith."

"Maybe an inter-species relationship would help heal the past. Move us all forward?""

"That is a nice sentiment, dear, but in this case it is deeply misguided."

"Eric deserves to have a mate."

"Eric already has mates."

"Who?" Rosalyn said, more than a little shocked.

Godric looked at her like she was insane. "Me? You?"

What!?"

Something very foul in Old Gaelic passed his lips. Godric put the car into first and squealed back onto the pavement. "How in the name of all that is holy and undead can you not know this?" Rosalyn gaped. Words failed her entirely. "You are fully blood bonded with him, Ros! You chose it and you continue to choose it. Only if you renounce him or he you will your legal rights over each other end. You're as good as married to him."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me!"

"I told you there was much to learn. You didn't want to wait!"

"I didn't realize I needed to pass the freaking bar exam to understand vampires. I thought mates were cosmically destined or something!"

Godric swore again. He took a long, measured breath, then spoke softly. "We still choose, my love. We decide how we grow our love and how we want to commit to each other. Every new day is a chance and a choice to risk our hearts. If we are wise, what we do with our fate is a decision, day by day."

"That's...wow." Rosalyn looked at her husband and felt a rush of adoration surge in her chest. "Thank you," she said simply, and hoped it could capture the enormity of her love for him.

"I won't lie. Being bonded to Eric is an added layer of protection for you both. No one has tried to force him into a vampire marriage lately, but it's always a possibility."

Rosalyn let her head fall against the headrest. "You said vampire marriage outside of your bloodline was madness. Why?"

"It's slavery. A monarch uses someone's alliances, talents, and body for political power."

Bone-deep, Rosalyn already knew the answer. "You've been married."

"Yes. I don't recommend it." His voice was stony.

"Has Eric?"

"He's come close. A Queen goaded him into killing her consort to free up the job."

"He did hard time in a coffin instead."

Godric seemed surprised. "He shares a lot with you."

"Well, the buttface is my lawful mate, I suppose."

Godric huffed a laugh. "You aren't angry then?"

"I should be, but…No. I get it. We can't choose whether to bow and scrape to a monarch or submit to a more powerful elder, but we get to pick who we allow in our House. These are families we choose. It's with kin that we are most free. I can choose my connection to them, and in turn my obligations to them."

"Precisely." He let out a nervous laugh. "You should probably let Eric know he can freely feed and fornicate again."

"You don't seriously mean to suggest that he hasn't been getting any."

"Not since you two bonded. I thought you were keeping him on a short leash on purpose."

Rosalyn guffawed. "Poor Eric. No wonder he's been on his best behavior!"

Godric laughed. "Yes, you've been - how do you say? - 'cock-blocking' him for months."

"Will Dallas be safe if I turn him loose?" Rosalyn said, bouncing in laughter.

"Eric is many things, but he is always honorable. Even when he's not exactly being a gentleman."

"He knew I didn't know any better, didn't he. He just sucked it up and suffered because he didn't want to upset me."

Godric gave a knowing smile. "Like I said. Eric always behaves honorably."

The rest of the drive home, Rosalyn grappled with the bombshell revelation that Eric was very much hers - and she his. It should have felt strange. Instead it felt…right. Her vampiric instincts were hyper-protective. She found herself more worried about Sookie than anything else. If she was already on Godric's radar as a potential issue, then it should very much be front and center on hers. As they pulled into the driveway, a thought occurred to her.

"Is inter-species supe marriage outlawed?"

Godric snorted in offense. "No. We're not that backward, Ros."

"It's just…what if Niall installed Eric where his great-granddaughter and heir lived because he's got something bigger in mind? What if he's trying to manufacture a political alliance?"

Horror overtook Godric's features. It was painfully clear he had not considered this. "Between two of the most powerful supernatural families…across the Great Veil…" he said, connecting the dots. For the third time that night, Godric swore profusely.

His reaction did nothing to reassure Rosalyn. She found, much to her surprise, that her thoughts turned viciously bloody. "I'll throttle that little bitch within an inch of her life if she messes with my Eric," she said in a fanged hiss. "I will dog-walk that woman - and her Prince."

Godric narrowed his eyes and leaned over the console. "Imagine that feeling, multiply it by eternity, then feed it with the darkest powers of the millennia, and you still aren't close to conceiving of what I will do to protect those I call mine."

Their eyes met in absolute solidarity.

~OOO~

Inside the estate, Rosalyn and Godric walked in silence. Their casual pace was carefully measured. Open talk of Fae treachery would pointlessly rile up the nest. Safely in their bedroom, Godric was stunningly quick to shift gears and unwind. He began putting away the clean laundry Isabelle had left outside their door – as though they had not just been shivering in bloodlust only minutes earlier. Rosalyn found she could not tune out the hectic energy of the night so quickly. The Fellowship was trying to arm themselves. She had fed on another human - the second donor of her undead life. And she had learned that when Godric had said he was giving her 'all that he had,' he had meant it. He had given her Eric – in every way. He was trying to give her Amleth too.

"I'll sort things out with Amla tomorrow," she said.

"A bond with him will protect you. It cannot be made permanent. It does not give him a claim over you. But if you scream, Rosalyn, he will come running. Faster than Eric, and with the weight of an empire behind him."

"I understand."

Godric set a stack of sheets in the armoire. He did not turn around. "And Ros?"

"Yes?"

"Don't make me do things to remind Amleth that I denied him my blood when it mattered most. Making me tell him you didn't deem him worthy tonight? That wasn't fair."

"Oh, God! Godric, I am so, so sorry!"

He shrugged lightly and faced her. "Apologize to Amla, not me. I am proud of you for standing your ground. You surround yourself with those who have earned the right to be there."

"But I was a jerk about it!"

"You're making Amleth work to deserve you, just as you did with Eric. I admire it immensely and I am in awe of your integrity. It is why we make a perfect pair."

"Still. I should have known better. Adoption is such a sensitive thing. I didn't mean to use you like that."

"It's not me I worry about." He spoke kindly, but the warning was clear.

"I won't hurt your babies, Godric."

"Don't hurt my babies, Rosalyn. Ever. Help me protect them. That is what it means to be the consort of this family." His smile morphed into a grin. "And that is all your 'Maker Daddy' has to say on the subject."

Rosalyn let out a relieved laugh. "You're an amazing maker. Truly. How can someone so ferocious be so gentle at the same time?"

"Yes, well this amazing maker will never let you forget that you called me that. In my bloody court, of all places! Impertinent woman."

"This from the 'young boy' who pretended I was his maker tonight!"

Godric spun the armoire doors shut and leaned against them. He bit his lip and ran a hand down his chest, over his groin. "You like?"

"Godric!" Rosalyn smacked playfully at him and he rumbled in laughter.

"What?" he said innocently. "I am done being maker tonight. Absolutely done. You are the older woman in this equation. Cougar!" That earned him a whack and his laughter grew.

"And what, now you want to be seduced, young man?"

A dangerous light danced in his eyes at the suggestion. "Did I ever tell you that I harbored very serious designs to enroll in your activism class?"

"What!?"

"Oh yes, lover. I had it all planned out. I was going to need a lot of supervision."

"You irredeemable imp!"

Godric caught her by the arms and walked Rosalyn backwards across the room. "Show me, mistress," he whispered hotly in her ear. "I've been truant. I've been unfocused. And Gods above, I have been tempted." The sound of the word moaned in his mouth and made her weak in the knees. Rosalyn grabbed his wrist and whipped him around. He gasped as though he were taken off guard. Rosalyn guided him to the bed's edge and shoved him down. She roughly claimed his mouth, savoring the taste of his tongue and the shape of his kiss. Their clothes did not last. When she had him pinned beneath her and nude, she sat up.

"Is this okay?" she panted. He nodded, his eyes dilated and glossy. She searched him hungrily.

"What are you going to do to me?" he said, his accent more pronounced.

Rosalyn licked her lips. She stroked his strong masculine thighs. She touched the skin over his femoral arteries, then rudely spread his legs. "I want to feed here."

He winced in ardent need. "Your maker can't allow it, even if he wanted."

"But does he want it?"

"Oh gods, he wants it. I'll show you how," he said, his breath falling in shallow rasps.

She nipped at the tender flesh of his thigh with blunt teeth. If only she could drink from him. "With Michael?"

"Eventually."

"With someone else then first."

"Yes."

"You like watching." He moaned beneath her as she did something especially wicked with her fingers. "You more than like it." He arched his back. Rosalyn sucked a path of kisses to the sensitive underside of his knee. Her hands were still busy elsewhere. "I've never seen you feed."

His head popped up. "No."

Their game had emboldened her. She rested against the column of his leg and tossed her hair back, defiant. "'No, it's true that I haven't seen you' or 'no, you're about to deny me something'?" She twisted her wrist before he could answer and his breath caught short. "Because my maker doesn't believe in 'no.'"

"Doesn't he?" Godric said, writhing in excitement.

"He taught me there is no 'yes' or 'no', only consequences. Now, young man, you had better be ready for your consequences. Are you ready?"

"Yes, mistress. Oh gods, yes."

"Accept them or you'll be in trouble."

Godric tried to agree. It came out in the sexiest of moans. Rosalyn bit his downy thigh as hard as she could. Godric grabbed at the sheets and roared as he came apart in her hands. He rode out his orgasm in shuddering waves before collapsing completely. Ros slid beside him with a satisfied smirk.

Godric lolled his head to one side. "You destroy me completely. Do you know that? I am yours."

Ros kissed him sweetly. "Good."

"And yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Yes to everything you're already cooking up, you clever minx. Just don't think you can sex me up and get your way. Our bedding is not a strategy."

"I wouldn't dream of it. It's a privilege." She kissed him once, then twice for good measure. "Now roll over, rude boy. You haven't even begun to learn your lesson."

A/N: Thoughts? Leave a comment! I love to hear from you and I try to respond to everyone. xx, M

The radio was on while Godric and Ros were cruising the streets of Dallas. Here is the playlist:

Neko Case, "Things That Scare Me"
Nick Cave, "We No Who U R"
Marie Fisker, "Jack of Heart"
Agnes Obel, "Fuel to Fire"
The Middle East, "Hunger Song"

Chapter Text

Godric was drying the last of their breakfast glasses when Rosalyn found the gift. She had not seen him set the long, narrow box on the dinette table. "What on earth is this?" she said, touching the satin bow on the package.

"It is a wedding present. One of many more to come."

"Sweetheart, I haven't gotten you anything yet."

"Hardly true. You gave me your life." Godric looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Open it, love." He chuckled and went to the bed, losing his robe along the way.

Tissue paper crinkled as she dug into the contents of the box. Confusion crept over her features. Rosalyn stared down at the thing in her hands. "Please tell me you've bought me riding lessons."

"Nope."

She flexed Godric's gift several times, testing its resistance. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Godric ran a tongue over his teeth and gave a wicked grin. He slid backwards on the mattress and tucked his arms behind his head, waiting. Rosalyn furrowed her brow. "You're not serious."

He shrugged, his expression wreathed in mischief. "Give it a whack, as they say."

Faint rose bloomed in Rosalyn's preternatural cheeks - the last of her human blush. "I am not going to use this on you."

"Why not?"

"For starters? I'll hurt you."

"You can't physically hurt me. Ever. Our magic won't allow it."

"Fine. I don't want to play-hurt you."

"Mistress, it isn't for me to tell you what you do or don't want. That is your decision."

"Okay?"

"Maybe it is more something you need."

"Godric," she said in exasperation. "How do you figure I 'need' a riding crop?"

Godric bit his bottom lip and ran a hand over his chest. "Might it be a consequence of my actions?"

"Nothing you've done deserves -"

"I can think of many things I haven't done well lately. I've made mistakes. I've misjudged."

Unconsciously, she ran her fingers over the braided leather shaft. She leveled her gaze at him. "What's your point?"

Her defiance thrilled him. "Mmm, what point would you like to make, mistress? You're the one with a whip."

Godric's provocation felt risky. It was as if the air in the room had suddenly changed. This encounter had no script, no obvious rules. "I think you want me to use this," she said. "I'm not going to give you everything you want - especially not if it makes me uncomfortable."

Wild excitement danced in his eyes. "I've had to be a maker to you a lot lately, and a Sheriff. But I promised to let you lead. To learn from you."

Rosalyn thwacked the crop against her palm in annoyance. "You're still being a maker when you put me into a new situation and gleefully sit there watching me squirm. Look at you. You look ridiculous so pleased with yourself while your big hard cock waggles around."

"Maybe you ought to do something about it."

"Godric," she warned.

"I've been unreasonably difficult, haven't I? An unmanageable brute. I wouldn't restrain you for your first feedings. That could have gone really poorly, no? I'm overbearing. I hardly let you out of my sight. You don't get a moment's peace with me, do you?" He waited a beat. "I correct your speech in front of others. Often. You hate court politics."

Rosalyn's nostrils flared. "So do you."

Godric narrowed his eyes. "I let Eric boss you around and manhandle you, Ros. Worse? I expect him to do most of the talking for me."

"Dammit, Godric." She eyed him and gritted her teeth.

He grinned, clearly delighted by the effect his taunting had on her. "I lost my temper and nearly lost control in front of you. Do you have any concept of how dangerous that was?" She refused to answer. "Instead of talking about it or apologizing to you, what did I do? Did I say I was sorry? No. No, I did not. I fucked you into submission – and you loved me for it."

Rosalyn growled and smacked the flash of the crop in her hand again. "You want your ass tanned? Come get it." She grabbed him by the ankle, jerked him down the mattress and gave him four solid whacks over his bare cheeks. The pink stripes disappeared the second she laid them down. "Happy?" She released her hold on him and he rolled over.

Godric positively boiled with desire. He could barely form words his fangs were so fully dropped. "Thank you. Do you feel better?"

Rosalyn pursed her lips. She gestured for him to roll back over. She kissed what she imagined were the phantom marks left on the firm swells of his behind, then chased the serpent tattoo up the column of his spine with another volley of kisses. She laid atop him, covering him with her body. "Please explain why you're doing this."

"Be more precise with your questions." Like a vampire, he meant.

"Back to being a maker, I see," she grumbled. "Why do you want me to punish you? I don't want to whip you."

He nestled his head against her. "You chose to whip me. You decided I wanted punishment. That was your interpretation of my desires." She began to disagree and he interrupted. "You could have lashed me elsewhere. Drawn it out. Made it a proper beating. Or teased me. Tickled me. Ignored me. So many things you might have done with your lovely little whip." Rosalyn swallowed and inhaled the scent of his hair. Godric wiggled out from underneath her so they were facing each other. "Do you know there is not a soul alive that would believe you just did that? A year ago, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Five minutes ago, I wouldn't have believed it."

"No one touches me freely. Except you. One night you reached out and touched me without permission and…I allowed it. It was the smartest thing I've ever done."

Rosalyn picked up the crop and toyed the tip over his skin. Trails of gooseflesh rose in its wake. "You like how that feels?" He hummed in agreement. "It seems a little early to up the ante in our bedroom. Are you bored already?" The concern in her voice was real.

Godric snorted. "Never. May I hold it a moment?" Rosalyn gave him the simple stick of black leather. It was in no way overtly kinky. It could have come from any equestrian shop or catalogue. He held it up and twirled it in his fingers. "I will never touch this without your permission. I will never use it without your explicit direction. This, Rosalyn, is yours and yours alone."

"Great," she said, unenthused.

He placed it back in her hand. He closed his fingers over hers. "When you hold this, or even if you say you feel like holding it, it tells me you want to communicate seriously, in a way that only you and I can as husband and wife."

"I seriously doubt -"

"With this in your hand, I just showed you that I know how the things I am obligated to do as your maker upset you. You just confirmed that they do. Four, feather-light taps. Quite lenient given that I gave you five very large reasons to be angry with me."

"So you what? Want to fuel our married life with angry sex? I am really not into S&M."

"It's only about anger if that's how you're feeling and that's how you choose to express it. This is a symbol of your control, Ros. Keep it in a dusty drawer for all I care. But don't forget you have it. You have all of me."

Rosalyn bit her lip in consideration. "Including your submission."

He smiled softly. "Yes."

"It's just make believe."

Godric squeezed her hand holding the crop. "There is nothing pretend about my willing submission. It is absolutely real. There will be no repercussions when you ask for it."

"You don't have to do that for me."

"No. I don't."

A knot of anxiety curled in her gut. "But you want to?"

"You seemed surprised."

"It's just -"

"Don't listen to everything Eric tells you. He doesn't know how to be my pledged wife."

How Godric knew that Eric had told her about his abusive past was a mystery. Perhaps Godric was floating a suspicion and her hesitation proved him right. "Only I know how to be your wife," she said cautiously.

"Precisely, my love."

"You never allowed him this, did you?"

Godric laughed. "How do you say it? 'Hell no'." Rosalyn chuckled. Eric was upstairs in the shower. Godric had insisted he keep close during his day rest. They could feel him bristle with awareness of their thoughts. Did they want him to come down? Godric gave him a psychic shove. No. They wanted space.

Godric jutted his chin at the dresser. "Second drawer." Rosalyn padded over and rolled it open. A searing, metallic scent scalded her nose and she sucked in a hiss of shock. "It's okay, Ros. That's silver."

Rosalyn responded with a mangled curse, covering her mouth and nose. "Why the hell do you have silver handcuffs down here?"

Godric remained impassive. "You're going to have to get used to silver, love. Those are covered in leather. They won't burn you. Have you ever received an electric shock?"

"Yah. Couple times."

"It's like that. Your arm will feel tingly and dead, like it fell asleep. They'll feel very, very heavy in your hand. Bring them here."

"No."

He raised his eyebrows. "Try again."

"No, Godric."

"This is your only chance. Going once? Twice?...Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you." In a blur, Godric had snatched the cuffs up and bounced back on the bed.

"You did not," she said. Godric grinned. He clanked his cuffed wrists against the steel headboard where they hung strung up through a slat. "You're a freak, you know that?"

"What are you going to do about it? You've got me bound and at your mercy. You can do anything you want to me." He stretched suggestively.

Rosalyn knelt on the mattress. "You can get out of them." Godric craned his neck to inspect his wrists. "Yes. I'd prefer not wrecking our bed. Or the cuffs. They are nice. Rated 200 years, for even the most rascally of younglings."

"Oh for…Godric! What has gotten into you?"

He started laughing. "You! I blame you completely. All that inconceivably hot sex last night has gone to my head."

"Where is the key, you pervert?"

He raised his chin in defiance. "The dog ate it."

"Which one?"

Godric howled in laughter, rattling the cuffs more. "That's not very nice, Madame Representative of the Inter-species Peace movement. Our staff might take offense!"

"Why you…!" Rosalyn tackled him and began tickling him mercilessly. She nipped him hard - repeatedly. He writhed in pleasure and as his skin smoothed against hers, their play became heated. Godric sought her mouth, his tongue wet with his own blood. Her body found his and when their forms connected, she sat astride him, glorious in her conquest.

"How's the view from up there?" he said. She tossed her hair and worked her hips in response. "Tell me truly. Are you happy?" She leaned down and kissed him deeply, caging his face between her arms. "In this marriage, we are equal, Ros. No powers, no politics. There is no one here but us."

"It is sacred," she said.

"This is ours, and ours alone. Our collaboration. Our expression with one another."

"It's not about the crop, or the stupid handcuffs," she said, whispering against his lips.

"No. It's a little hard to wrap up freedom and equality."

Rosalyn lost herself for several minutes as she made love to him, enjoying his firm figure keening and needy beneath her. "Want to tell me where you put the keys?"

"I think you'd better finish what you started."

She laughed. "What you started, mister."

"Hmm, yes. I've gotten myself into a tight spot." Rosalyn squeezed down on him. "Very..tight…"

"Shhhh," she said and he moaned "Yes, ma'am."

~OOO~

"C'mon, Blondie. Let's go." Eric was so focused on his chess game, he did not hear Rosalyn speak at first. Amleth had him in check. "He's got you cornered."

"I've more than got him cornered," Amleth said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Eric? A Sicilian defense on C5?"

Rosalyn had no idea what that meant, but she was pretty certain it was curtains for Eric. "Ready?"

Eric looked up. "What's up, baby girl?"

She spun a set of car keys on her finger. They were for the new Audi Eric had ordered. He had been beside himself when it was delivered. "We're going hunting," she announced. Amleth dropped Eric's white knight. It spun in wild circles on the tile floor. He and Eric sat frozen. "Well? Look alive. There's a lot on the docket tonight. I can't be out very long." Eric stood up on autopilot, slowly brushing the wrinkles from his track pants. He and Amleth exchanged something rapid-fire and grave in a glance. "I have permission, Eric," she said. "I'm not insane. I'm not trying to get us in trouble."

Like a ghost, Constantine appeared in the shadow of the game room doorway. He often did this whenever Rosalyn came near his maker. He watched her like a hawk, circling in silent threat.

Amleth's brow furrowed into a deep crease. He and Eric looked at each other again. "Shall I come? I think backup is very much in order."

"Not this time." Rosalyn reached for Amleth's hand. He took it. "I was hoping we might make other plans tonight."

"You're welcome to help me with paperwork. I'm swamped." Contrary to Godric's suggestion that London could go hang itself, Amleth was not about to relinquish his Sheriffdom. The logistics of managing his territory remotely had grown exponentially harder without his children on site.

"London can wait one night, can't it? Take the evening off."

"I hardly think that -"

"You have my permission," Rosalyn said, eyes twinkling.

Amleth quirked an eyebrow. "I do, do I? Well then."

"See you when I get back?"

"Certainly." He caught her hand before she could slip from his grasp. "Rosalyn? Be careful. Please. Listen to Eric. Do exactly what he says. It is imperative."

She nodded.

Eric explained their concern. "I blew it the first time Godric let me go off without him."

"As in, cataclysmically, epically, disastrously blew it," Amleth said. "And I was supposed to be watching him."

"Remember when I said Godric split us up?" Eric said.

"We were on Death row for five years," Amleth said. They both shivered at the memory.

"I won't screw up," she promised.

Amleth shook his head. "No, darling. You cannot screw up. There's a difference." He shifted his gaze back to Eric. "Either of you."

She gave Amleth a little salute and winked. "Understood, Sheriff. See you before sun-up?"

Amleth gave a weary sigh and uttered an inaudible prayer. Constantine glowered at her as they passed.

"Can I drive?" Rosalyn said, jangling the keys.

"Not a chance," Eric said with a snort and snatched the key set.

Amleth called after them. "For the love of the gods, behave yourselves. And mind the fucking paparazzi, you two!"

~OOO~

Rosalyn scrunched up her face. The giant red neon light buzzed above them against the sky. "Why a mall, Eric? There had better not be some sleazy place here like your club."

"No. You'll see," he said. He was brimming with excitement. They entered through the doors and were greeted by a frigid blast of air conditioning. The mall air was laced with thousands upon thousands of scents. Eric quickly clasped an arm over her shoulders. He guided her through the department store, past the perfume ladies and shoe salesmen. "It's a lot on the senses, I know. Don't breathe unless you want information or need to talk." He wound through home goods, taking his time and looking at nothing in particular, then into the menswear section. Gradually, the onslaught lessened. Rosalyn took a cautious breath and exhaled. She glanced up at Eric. "Okay?" he said. She nodded.

They left the department store to stroll the main mall. "Malls are an excellent place to find a meal. Everyone comes looking for something – or someone. People are...receptive."

"You must have loved the Paris Arcades," she said. The Parisians had built palaces of glass, gilt, and ironwork for shopping.

Eric chuckled. "No, Amleth and Pam were big fans though. They terrorize Paris on a regular basis."

"Two shopaholics with nothing but time?" she guessed.

"And money," Eric said. "I'm glad Pam likes making it because gods above she knows how to spend it."

They chatted amiably and wandered for some time, stopping at window displays that beckoned them. Eric was curious about the appliances in a kitchen store. He pointed to a stand mixer, wanting to know more.

"No, Blondie, that attachment grinds up meat," Rosalyn explained.

"And it turns it into noodles?"

"No. It's just ground up."

He squinted at the picture on the display. "But it comes out as ground meat noodles."

"No, dingus, noodles are made of flour and eggs. You can put ground meat in a sauce to serve on top of noodles."

"But why would you want to," Eric said sarcastically. He made a sound of disgust. They continued walking, hand in hand. At some point, Rosalyn realized she had not done anything so 'normal' since she had eaten ice cream with Godric. She swung Eric's arm playfully, enjoying this reprieve from the Sheriff's nest and all that it entailed.

Passing by a coffee stand, Rosalyn heard a woman point her out to a friend. She stiffened automatically, thinking she had done something to betray her new nature. "Girl, who does she think she is?" the woman said. Eric immediately tightened his hand on Rosalyn's and she grabbed his arm.

The woman's friend, who apparently thought she was whispering, replied. "He could do so much better. Look at her! So pathetic. She's clinging on to him for dear life."

"Mmhmm," the first woman agreed. "As if she could keep him. You just know he's probably banging half the office."

"Out of your league, honey," the friend said loudly, not caring if she was overheard.

"Don't," Eric warned, his arm rigid in case Rosalyn tried to pull away. "They aren't worth it."

Rosalyn stopped dead in her tracks. "No, but I am, dammit." She reached up on tiptoes and found Eric's mouth. He kissed her half-stunned before matching her kiss with real heat. He cradled her head in his palm and pulled her to his chest. When she pulled away, his eyes were round with fire and surprise. "And we both know you're not screwing around on me," she said. He blinked slowly as she stared up at him and he understood. Blinking again, he came to his senses and remembered they were standing in the middle of a mall thoroughfare. "Teeth, baby girl," he whispered quickly. Rosalyn bit her lips. Her fangs had sprung loose.

Eric cast an arctic stare at the gossipy women. The women flustered and hurriedly gathered the litter on their table to leave. "That, for the record, was glorious," he said into the shell of Rosalyn's ear. He caught her earlobe between his teeth and hummed a deep, breathy laugh.

They carried on, but the women's nasty words made Rosalyn hyper-aware of everyone watching them. They were petty and meaningless words, and still, they stung. "Women are so horrible to each other sometimes. They drag each other down and hold each other back." Eric hummed in agreement. "Don't look innocent, Blondie. You attract the worst kind."

"Pshah. I attract all the kinds. It's simply a matter of statistics that some of them are -"

"Cruel?"

"I was going to say less than admirable."

"I'm not even going to ask where you set your bar."

It was his turn to stop and pull her sharply against his chest. "You know exactly where and how I set my bar, my bonded." His voice was low and thick with passion. "No one commands my blood. I chose you."

Rosalyn suppressed a sheepish grin. "Alright, alright, Don Erico. You're making me blush."

He flipped his hair and continued walking. "You're going to see soon enough that everyone has a place and role to play - if you let them." He led Rosalyn around the corner and stopped in front of a busy lingerie store.

"Eww, Eric. No."

"Oh yes."

"It stinks like weird vaporized alcohol spray and patriarchy."

Eric started bouncing with laughter. "Yes, and it's a great hunting ground." He looked down at her and he sobered. "Trust me." There was so much that passed between them in that single glance.

A heated frisson of electricity rushed over the surface of her skin. "Always," she said.

Within minutes, Eric shoved a couple teddies at her. "Eric, seriously, no."

"Just 'shop.' Keep your eyes on me and for the love of Odin, do not take an interest in anything other than the panties. Nobody recognizes what we are. Keep it that way."

He cruised around a rack and very quickly had a woman volunteer to model some bras for him. He politely declined, but not before quirking his eyebrow at Rosalyn across the store as if to say 'See? I'm a good boy.'

"'Scuse me, miss," a man in a golf polo said to Rosalyn. His pink shirt was tucked with determination over his round midsection into a pair of khaki shorts. "I'm lookin' for something..." He licked his lips. "...real special."

"I don't work here," Rosalyn said. She hoped he was not going to force the issue. She did not have much air in her lungs.

"That's allllright, little lady. You look like you've got great taste."

"You have no idea," she blurted out. With those four tiny words, she caught more than a whiff of his scent. She grabbed the edge of the display table and clamped the back of her throat shut.

"Good evening, sir," Eric said, materializing at Rosalyn's side. "If you make a few selections and step into a dressing room, my assistant will be more than happy to show them to you. Won't you?" He nudged Rosalyn.

"We could start with these?" She held up the hideous get-ups Eric had given her. The golf shirt licked his chops again, this time at the sight of the laser-cut nylon and feathers.

"Right this way," Eric said, pouring on the charm.

~OOO~

Eric pulled Rosalyn back against his chest and she whined, "Oh, god!" She was enraptured by the feed.

Eric wadded one of the teddies up and wiped the man's throat. "Get out. You never saw us. You didn't find what you were looking for." No sooner had the golf shirt bumbled out of the dressing room did Rosalyn turn and practically attack Eric. He caught her in his arms as she latched on to his mouth.

"Ros," he said through her hot, demanding kiss. "Ros. Unf, fuck, that's AB neg. Ros -" He sucked on her tongue and she pulled hard on his hair before he steadied himself and pulled away. He had to wrestle to get her hands free without pulling out his own mane. "Ros. Baby." Her hands were everywhere, under his shirt, down the backside of his track pants. "Rosalyn," he finally said in a sharp growl. She startled. He licked the smear on her chin slowly and tasted her again, holding her gaze. "You're bloodlusted. It's not me you want." He pulled her close and kissed her temple. "Shh. Just let it flow over you. Ride it out." She exhaled and let her head fall back. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Eric said, whispering into her hair. "Do you know that? I adore you. You were brilliant."

"That woman – the one who wanted you. She's still here. Go have her."

"We shouldn't linger."

"You need it," Rosalyn said. "I expect you to take care of yourself."

He suppressed a smile. "Thank you. Next time, you naughty kitten."

On the drive home, neither said a word. They caught each other's eyes now and then, and smiled. Rosalyn insisted on choosing the music, so the right songs would always be in their memories. Eric held her hand loosely over the console, except when he needed to shift gears. It may have been the slowest he had driven anywhere, ever.

~OOO~

"Coming," Pamela said, answering the light tap on her door. She greeted the visitor wearing a sequined pantsuit and skyscraper heels.

Rosalyn held up two hangers. "Which do I wear?"

Pamela balked at the options. "Are you going to a recycling center or to a kill shelter?"

"Pam!"

"Then the answer is no. Come in." Pam rummaged in her desk drawer and sorted through a stack of envelopes, culling out three. "Can I just say that whatever you did to my maker tonight…"

"I didn't - " Rosalyn began to protest.

Pam cut her short. "Thank you. Very. Much," she said, clicking down black credit cards one by one. "Be sure to sign them before you use them." She beamed a white smile.

Rosalyn laughed. "You know I won't use them."

"Buy something for your Old Man. Or Amleth. You've got all the boys floating on happy clouds. Mission accomplished?"

Rosalyn reached into the tote over her shoulder. She set down a red leather case marked 'Bulgari'. She pushed it across the desk. "Getthefuckout," Pam gasped.

"Why don't you have my wedding dress altered for yourself, as maid of honor, and we can pick out something else for me? This time, we can find it together."

Pamela sniffed and fixed a curl framing her face. She coolly ignored the fact that she had just been made a bridesmaid. Rosalyn had been annoyingly mum about inviting guests. "I can't wear the necklace. I'm under orders. You told me so yourself."

"If Sophie-Anne wants to complain, she can file it under 'your grandsire's last nerve'. Try it on."

"I suppose I could just try it. I won't wear it out."

"Pamela Swynfort de Beaufort, Eiríkrsdottír." Pam straightened at the use of her title. Her face went wide with astonishment as Rosalyn spoke. "You are the unreleased progeny of my bonded blood brother, Eiríkr Goðríkson, himself firstborn and unreleased, the child of my sire and pledged husband, Goðrík the Great, Lord of his House and Line."

Pamela nodded gravely. It was serious business to be called out this formally.

"You are twice over my kin, Pam, bound by the strongest ties we have to honor each other. You are twice over mine. This is my gift to you. "

"Well, shit." Pamela brushed a knuckle at the edge of her eye and sniffed again. She took the box and held it against her chest. "Thank you. Mission so accomplished," she said, wiping at unshed tears.

Rosalyn laughed and gestured for the jewel case. "Let's see it on. I am so not snapping this box at your hand like some cheesy rom-com moment, though." Pamela pouted, then pulled her hair off her neck and giddily pranced over to a full-length mirror. Rosalyn draped the emeralds and diamonds over her petite collar and fastened the clasp. They inspected the results.

"I hate that I like you this much," Pamela said.

"That's okay, Pam. You'll get over it."

Pamela grinned wickedly. "Now tell me what we're dressing for and I'll get you set up.

Chapter Text

Pamela's intuition about clothing and presentation was undoubtedly one of her dark powers. Its utility was not to be dismissed, Rosalyn would learn. It would not, however, be an easy lesson for her.

Pamela kept insisting that dress honored others. It was not about vanity, she swore. It showed respect for one's own position - for the sacrifices people made in its name. From Pam's perfectly lipsticked mouth, the idea that appearances were not all superficial was pretty hard to swallow. It took more than a little convincing for Rosalyn to acquiesce to Pamela's views. She would not truly understand Pam's point until much later.

Somehow, Pam had discovered Rosalyn's fondness for a certain Meiji-era kimono she had recently worn. Perhaps Eric had liked her in it and mentioned it to Pam. There was something magical about that blue kimono, Rosalyn thought. It preserved the artistry of many hands long gone. Each patient stitch and gold wire told a story, and not just with the symbolism of its elegant, swooping cranes and unbowed pines. The fabric itself held a history. The royal overcoat Eric had dressed her in when she was sick was far too small. Rosalyn had torn its red silk lining with her broad shoulders and stained it even darker red with her blood. It would forever reek of her illness – and her salvation. The lapels were spattered with Eric's blood too. Each time she saw it hanging in the closet, she saw a trial met and overcome through Eric's sheer determination. Having it cleaned and restored was unthinkable. Pamela, through some witchcraft, had anticipated this.

Pamela led Rosalyn into the unoccupied guest suite abutting her own. Rosalyn was taken aback by the shopping Pamela had done on her behalf. Pam had filled the entire spare bedroom. Over a freakishly short period, she had managed to source racks of antique silks and modern, airy Japanese clothing for her. The contemporary styles were elegant and functional, with simple lines and minimal patterns. It was clothing fit for a woman who valued pockets over lace. Eva had apparently contributed some unworn things from her own closet too, as well as helped scour galleries and auction houses for the older items. Rosalyn and Eva were, Pam declared, perfect 'fashion buddies.'

Rosalyn was left reeling at the collection of vintage textiles Pamela and Eva had amassed for her. Pam admitted to having gone 'a little overboard'. That was certainly one way of putting it. She pulled out box after box, each containing stunning kimonos, obi belts, and jackets. There were shining jacquard cottons, rinzus tinted with colored paint, and gleaming shu silks of the finest caliber. Some of the pieces were decades old. Others had weathered more than a century. Each one was an artwork - hand-woven, hand-dyed, and hand-sewn.

Rosalyn was happy to accept the new clothes. She struggled with the antiques. Pamela insisted that Rosalyn find something among these particular boxes - that they were 'right' for her meeting with Amleth.

"I can't wear these, Pam. I'm not Japanese."

Pam shrugged. "No, you're vampire." She did not see the problem.

"These aren't my traditions."

"And these weren't my Bulgari gems until we gave them a new life. These babies were rotting in a safety deposit box. Look at them now." Pamela could not stop touching her new necklace.

"It isn't right to appropriate others' culture."

"'Culture isn't an accessory' and all that jazz, right?" Pam said.

"Exactly - "

"You don't feel guilty about using cars or clocks, do you?"

"Well, no, but -"

"Human ideas spread. Fashion technology is no different. No one owns culture. Culture is living practice."

"But taking peoples' ideas out of context and using them inappropriately -"

"Under no circumstance will you wear these inappropriately. You are not putting on one of these just to look fabulous. But oh - do try that red one for me. You will slay in that. Do you even know how hard it was to find things in your giant modern size? You're harder to dress in vintage than Eric." She held up a violet kimono with flowers and set it aside. "No, Ros. If and when you wear these, it will be to honor the garment and to honor those who see you in it."

"So you're honoring the slaves who died digging up your Bulgari rocks?"

Pamela cocked her head and set her hands on her hips. "Can you tell me about the pearl diver who found that enormous pearl in your ring? The jeweler who set it? I know you've got the touchy power thing like Eric."

"It doesn't work yet," Rosalyn said in a small voice.

Pamela gave a little huff in triumph. "Cupcake, for the undead, making an appropriate fashion statement takes on a whole new meaning."

"We shouldn't enjoy things that we know are the product of slavery or theft or -"

"So you want to take responsibility for every injustice done by someone else? You think you can make terrible things in the past better by being a whiney snot to anyone who will listen in the present? With no regard for who you are speaking to?" Pamela took a step forward. "Your self-righteous principles alone don't make you look good in others' eyes. Falling on your sword as if you were actually the one who has suffered, Ros? It makes you look like an attention whore gunning to be martyred."

Rosalyn was outraged. "It's about being aware of others' plight, Pam! Not participating in it! Not blindly gobbling up all the pretty sparkly bullshit being shoveled in our faces by greedy capitalist pigs!"

Pam's fangs dropped. "Don't you fucking lecture me about smashing the system, you ridiculous, wet-eared newborn. You're barely out of the ground! I've been crushing empire and killing fascist, patriarchal pigs since before your great great grand pappy took his first shit."

Rosalyn swore. "I forgot…"

"That I was alive for the second French Revolution? Yeah. So suck it."

"Not like it worked," Rosalyn muttered.

Pam narrowed her eyes. "No. The Revolution failed. Funny. I've had lots of time to think about why – and to come up with better strategies. What do you think we're doing right now?" Rosalyn tried to answer, but Pamela was not having any of it. "Mother of God, Rosalyn. You're exhausting. Do you know that? There's freaking injustice everywhere, in everything, and it's been around since the world started turning. It doesn't excuse it, but if you're so bloody hellbent on seeing it in everything, then let it be a reminder for you to pull on your best big-girl pants and keep working."

Rosalyn had not meant to start another showdown with Pamela over what she was going to wear. She sucked at her cheek and stared awkwardly at the rug.

"Pick your battles, girl. Being a b-face to me because you can't chill the fuck out about your principles enough to have level-headed conversation about them is…a problem. I don't like it when I have problems."

"I'm not trying to make one for you," she said.

"Then get off your high horse and listen to me. I swear on Eric's perfect ass I will bite your throat out and happily do coffin time if I catch you treating one of these like pajamas. These are, without exception, made for nobility of the highest rank. We will discuss how each can be worn. You piss off the Edo Emperor and the Shogunate and its all of our asses." Pamela tossed the box with the fire red dress at her.

"Japan is imperial?"

Pam snorted. "You didn't think everyone ran as a constitutional monarchy did you? We're just as diverse as humans. Stop worrying so much about being disrespectful to human history and start learning about how to avoid mangling ours."

"I…I'm trying…to do both."

"I know." Pamela sniffed and flipped her curls back. "Your speech was nice, by the way. For a second I thought I was in trouble." Pam gestured at the sea of boxes. "Love them, honor them, honor those who see you in them. Got it?"

"Got it," Rosalyn said, not remotely convinced. Whose idea of honor, she wanted to know, and respected according to whose rules?

Pamela was not finished. "As much as it might look like it, this life isn't all Disney princes and tiaras. It's a knives-out, blood opera kind of gig too. You're Lady of this House. Fill the shoes and make sure they look fang-freaking-tastic. You may not like or want the job privately, but in public, you don't get to disrespect and insult those who rely upon you to set an example and keep order. Appearances are at least half of our politics."

Rosalyn thumbed the edge of the dress box nervously. It was an annoying human tick and she could not help it.

"Did you not stop and think about the fact that you were romancing one of the most infamous vampires in existence? Godric is legend. Eric is a celebrity in his own right."

"I don't care about fame."

"Neither do they, buttercup, but you don't get to not care about it either. It's how they get things done in our world. It's how you'll be able to accomplish all your goody two-shoes things too. And here, try these." Pamela handed her a pair of red platforms.

"Being high-profile is what got me targeted in the first place."

Pamela quirked an eyebrow. "Exactly. You stuck your neck out without knowing what you were doing. Comprende?"

She understood that much. "Not a Disney movie." Rosalyn's nostrils flared in sudden amusement. "I dunno, Pam. You're kinda my fairy godmother. Look at all this stuff."

"Fuck fairies – and eat them." Pam reconsidered. "Maybe not in that order. But if you're trying to thank me, then you're welcome."

"The kimonos are beautiful. Truly. A lost art form."

"Lost? Hardly. There are still artisans who remain. How do you think Amleth learned?"

"What?" Rosalyn perked up.

"Amleth was a weaver. Is a weaver. Whatever. He's obsessed with rare textiles, especially from East Asia. He and Eric spent a lot of time in Japan helping develop Tru Blood. You didn't know that?"

Of course Rosalyn had not known, though suddenly, Eric's fluency in Japanese made a lot more sense. "I didn't know, but…I'm catching up," she said.

"About time," Pam said and shuffled through the boxes.

Rosalyn still did not agree with Pamela. She had no intention of reveling in things whose human history spoke of inequality and misery. She was not about to run out and drape herself in blood diamonds and sweatshop factory clothing if she could help it. Pam was right, however, that objects could be recycled and repurposed. Vampires lived many lives and so could belongings. It still felt like a bit of a cop-out on her principles, but Rosalyn embraced the idea that re-using something in the present, like a necklace or a dress, could be a correction to its past. Eric had already warned her: idealism could get you killed. If her apparel was meaningful and pleasing to Amleth, then she could live with compromising her ideals for the better good of their relationship.

In the piles of boxes, Rosalyn picked out a black kimono with a white hand-painted panel around the waist. She paired it with a black silk overcoat sparely trimmed in gold embroidery. The black and gold in the dresses called to mind the color scheme Amleth and Eric had adopted for their House. Until Pam's tutelage, Rosalyn had not appreciated why the boys dressed as they did. It was not just because they looked smashing as smoldering gothic heroes. (They did, and they knew they did). It was, Pam told her, so that even when Eric was running his backwater Sheriffdom wearing racer-tees and flip flops, no one who saw that flash of gold against black would forget his status. He did not need a flashy Sheriff's estate. He was Prince and heir to one of the most ancient and exclusive Houses of their kind. Rosalyn had a new respect for the Adidas track pants she had 'explored' earlier in the heady heat of bloodlust.

The dress coat she chose was far less ornate than some of the other uchikake Pamela had shown her. "You don't want to show up looking like the bride of Satan," she had said, approving her understated selection. More to the point, Rosalyn did not want to emphasize the bridal aspect of the uchikake kimono at all. The garment was subdued and yet still extremely formal, signaling her newfound nobility and her intent towards Amleth. The gold embroidered water scene at the bottom edge of the dress was beautiful – and perfect. It mirrored the encounter Rosalyn had in mind.

~OOO~

Amleth's suite door stood ajar. A warm, dancing light poured out into the hallway. A true elder, he preferred to work by candle or firelight. He had lit both tonight. Rosalyn peeked in.

He sat crouched over his desk, a circle of books patterned around his notepad. His pen moved quickly, in light, melodic scratches. He had changed into sparring clothes. A white tunic hugged his torso, while a pair of black hakama pants fell in a pleated cascade over his legs to the floor.

"Amleth?" Rosalyn said softly.

He set his pen down slowly, drinking her in. He took a long moment before speaking. When he finally did, it was in the dulcet, marveled tones of a church-goer. "I had thought, when you summoned me, that you wanted to practice this evening." He scraped his chair away and bowed deeply. He held out an upturned hand. Rosalyn thought he would kiss her knuckles. He put his lips to her ring instead – the kiss of a supplicant. His eyes flickered up over her ring and met her gaze. There was no deception in their smoky green, nor hint of spellbind. "I see, most noble lady, you have other plans," he said.

"Up for a turn in the garden?" she said.

His lips quivered. "It would be my pleasure." He whisked a black jacket from the back of the chair and tied it around his waist. He looked every inch her martial arts master. She inclined her head in the slightest of curtsies rather than a bow. They would not be on the sparring mat tonight. He offered Rosalyn his arm.

~OOO~

The east garden of Godric's estate was far more developed than the colorless western block by the empty human quarters. Here the landscape architect had laid out enormous, tiered walkways and filled them with layers of sub-tropical plants and exotic night-blooming flowers. The garden was dominated by a glassy swimming pool for guests, complete with a grotto hidden behind a waterfall. Fountains and neo-classical statuary sprouted, nymph-like, from shrubs and marble ponds. Like the rest of the estate, it was all grossly overdone and incongruous with the fact that this was Texas.

Amleth meandered through the gardens with Rosalyn on his arm. More than a few times, she caught him casting a sideways glance at her rustling dress. He moved differently than Godric and Eric. He did not strut. He glided, not taking steps to hide the fact that he was a deadly predator. His body felt strange under her hand, like a foreign comet disrupting her orbit. With Amleth beside her, there was no question as to why vampires were wary of touch. Everything about his touch or attempted touch screamed of power – who had the right to touch whom, who could overpower whom. It was freaking tedious and constant, Rosalyn decided. But crucial. It structured every aspect of their lives. Amleth was a monolith of opal and shadow at her side. His mind was a silent tomb. Their bond had disintegrated completely.

Were he not Amleth, no force short of a maker's command could have compelled her to stroll so close to an ancient. She motioned to a stone bench. Amleth waited for her to sit before he joined her. She kept his hand between hers in her lap – a little act of domination he allowed. "These months have flown by. I've hardly had a second to catch my breath. It's been one incredible thing after another."

"Oh, to be young again," Amleth mused. "…and need breath."

"We haven't had a moment's peace, you and I."

"There rarely is in a life worth living."

"Or in a life worth sharing," she said. Amleth smiled. "We're overdue for a moment to ourselves." Rosalyn reached up and stroked the line of his shoulder, down over the sleeve of his jacket. She toyed with the cuff. "Even before you were my dojo master, or my brother, I thought of you like this."

"How's that?" he said, fascinated.

"Exacting. Watchful. A raven king."

Amleth scoffed, embarrassed. "A king? No. Huginn and Muninn perhaps."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow. She knew something of Eric's old tales. Huginn and Muninn were Thought and Memory - Odin's winged spies. "You do serve a god. Or at least the closest thing to one I know." Silence filled the air as thoughts of Godric welled up between them.

Amleth said something in another tongue. She shrugged, not understanding. "You are Godric's 'sweet potato'," he translated.

"A sweet potato!"

He quirked his mouth in amusement. "In Sanskrit, the word for 'sweet potato' is also the word for the wife of a god." She tried and failed miserably to pronounce it and they burst into laughter.

"My brother taught me Sanskrit," he said soberly, once their laughter had subsided. His nostalgia quickly brought him someplace sad.

"Arun," she said, almost inaudibly.

Amleth looked away. He did not like to utter the names of the dead. "I'll teach you too."

"Amleth?" She took his hand again. "I was too new to understand what you gave to me on my Awakening. I'm still too new to have even the slightest concept of all that you have been and can be. Learning all that history will take time."

"It will become our history." Amleth traced a thumb over her wrist. He pulled it to his mouth and kissed it gently where he had fed from her. "You're the Lady of my House, Ros. You have my undying allegiance."

"You are my elder, Amla, in every way. I admire you and I look up to you. I haven't always shown it. I certainly wasn't acting like the lady of anything when I treated you poorly. My ignorance is no excuse. I apologize, from the bottom of my heart."

"There is nothing to forgive."

"Yes, there is. I swept in like a hurricane and turned everything upside down. Forgive me for acting ungrateful toward you and minimizing your importance. I had no idea that raising a newborn vampire was such a major community effort. Everyone is scrambling to teach me what I need to know – you especially."

"We desperately needed a good shake-up." He fell silent for a long moment. "You and Godric are identically different, you know? You jump in where he fears to tread. You are a dreamer. He's lived so long he forgot how. You bring balance to each other. The night is young again with you in it – for all of us."

Rosalyn nodded, blinking back tears. She spread the collar of her dress. A gold chain hung around her neck. Nestled there in the mounds of her breasts was Tarquin's coin. Amleth gasped. "... I didn't realize…the gold on your dress…I couldn't smell…" He blinked several times. Collecting himself, he examined the pendant. "Godric set it for you?"

"How did you know?"

"I can always recognize his work. He's a gifted smith. He learned from Eric."

"I hope you don't mind. He promised the setting wouldn't damage the coin."

"It's lovely…especially in that very generous décolletage," he said confidentially and winked.

Rosalyn chuckled. "You put an unbelievable amount of trust in me when you gave this to me, Amleth. Wearing it reminds me of how serious my responsibilities are to you and to a legacy I'm only just starting to understand."

Amleth bit his lips into a thin line and blinked in acknowledgement. "I'll tell you all about it." About all of them, he seemed to say. The names in the air did not feel as sad suddenly. "I accept your apology. Would you accept a bond with me?"

"There is always a place for you at my side and in my home, Amleth of Cumbria," she said, lifting her chin. He smiled hearing her pronounce her first decree. "If you're willing to put up with me, of course," she added.

Amleth leaned forward, cautiously, and placed a chaste kiss at the corner of Rosalyn's mouth. "Thank you, darling."

A door creaked open in the side yard. Amleth straightened Rosalyn's collar, safely tucking away her necklace. His hand hovered over her heart. He smoothed the fabric over the hidden coin, then gestured at the shadow filling the passageway.

Constantine appeared at his maker's side. He cast a dubious look at Rosalyn with his pure black eyes, then handed a packet to Amleth. "That's everything?" Amleth said.

"Yes, Maker."

"Good." Amleth tucked the packet in the folds of his tunic. "And Costas?" The younger vampire halted mid-step and leaned down to his maker for orders. Amleth's open palm moved imperceptibly fast. The sound of a 'paff' echoed off the garden walls and a greenish-plum hand print bloomed across his child's cheek. "That is your one and only warning. Stop frightening Rosalyn."

Constantine bowed further. "My deepest apologies, madame."

Amleth dismissed him with a wave. "He's a jealous brat. Gorgeous and loyal, but a brat all the same."

Rosalyn suppressed a smile. She knew better than to question a maker's reprimand. She was also more than a little on board with this particular smack. "He's yours, that's what matters."

Amleth sighed in agreement. He looked around and slapped his thighs, having made a decision. "You were right about this garden. I can hardly hear myself think with all the surveillance cameras and guards."

"Amleth, I hate this house."

"I know, poppet. You and me both."

At the top of the high wall enclosing the estate, two weres paced the perimeter. One of them kept tapping his finger on the trigger of his weapon. "That is extremely annoying," Amleth said.

"Is that Hendrix he's drumming?" Rosalyn hummed along. "Watchtower, right?"

"Gods." Amleth rolled his eyes. "Let's get out of here."

"Where to?"

"I've someplace I'd like to show you."

"You mean leave the estate?" The idea of going anywhere without her maker made her hair stand on end. "Let's check with Godric first, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." Amleth glanced up at the moon and then at the brighter lamps along the pathway, calculating the light. He pulled out a cellphone. "May I?" He draped the edge of Rosalyn's overcoat over the folds of his pants and fussed with the two fabrics until they formed a V.

"What are you doing?" she said as he took a picture. Amleth grinned, tapped at his phone, then showed her the result. "Did you just post that online?" she said, scandalized.

"I'm a lifestyle influencer," he replied, looking mischievous. Rosalyn snatched the phone and scrolled through his account. The images were all similarly styled – sumptuous objects and places that were photographed abstractly and very obviously after sundown.

"'Shadow_of_Knight'?" she said skeptically upon seeing his social media handle. "You'd better not have these geotagged. Godric will skin you alive."

Amleth harrumphed. "No doubt. It's all a bit of anonymous fun. No worries."

"Is Eric on here?"

He shook his head. "No, but there are a thousand fan accounts. Don't tell him. His head would explode."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Amleth stood and gestured for her to proceed. It was not lost on Rosalyn that he lingered behind. Amleth soaked in the details of her overcoat as it spread out along the path. A river of time flowed across the hem and sprawling golden cherry trees drank at the water's edge. Cherries bloomed heavy and full with renewed life, while two cranes sailed endlessly overhead. The message for Amleth was clear: May our bond be blessed and eternal.

Rosalyn heard Amleth's phone snap and cycle, registering another photo. She looked over her shoulder at him. He stole another shot.

"Those are for me," he said coyly. She smiled, then made her way up to the house.

Chapter Text

"Motion denied," Godric said. "Next." Eric sat on the corner of Godric's desk with his arms crossed. He was still wearing his track pants. He snickered at the pair of vampires in front of him. They appeared crushed. Godric raised his eyebrows. "I will not repeat myself. Leave my presence."

Eric reached over, crumpled the form laying on the desk, and sent the ball sailing through the air into a wastebasket. "As in, get the fuck out of this Area before dawn or meet the true death. Ciao."

"For your sakes," Godric said, "do not let me hear that you sought refuge in Louisiana. The Queen will not support your residency request either, and Sheriff Northman will see to it my verdict is carried out."

"Try Florida," Eric sneered. "I hear they tolerate vile fangless zombie filth."

The duo left the court, not daring to glance up at Rosalyn and Amleth where they waited. Godric materialized at her side. Eric appeared a half second later. "Problem?" she said.

Eric sucked at his teeth. "We don't do second chances."

"Not with rapists," Godric said under his breath.

"Ah," she said. Godric and Eric were both staring at her. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her apparel. "Um. Am and I wanted to speak with you, Godric. Privately."

Godric eyed his wife, then his raven-haired child. Satisfied that all seemed put to rights between them, he nodded. "Very well. Follow me." He set off down the hallway.

Eric poked at Rosalyn through their bond. She turned around and he gestured at her head to toe. He pantomimed a heart attack, clutching his chest. 'Gorgeous!' he mouthed. He made a pained expression and pretended to drop to the floor.

~OOO~

Godric led Amleth and Rosalyn through the estate to his private wing. He sauntered in his comfortable way, the undisputed master of his realm. Following from behind, Rosalyn appreciated how the fit of his pants displayed his firm backside. Reflecting on it, Godric looked particularly delectable tonight. He wore his usual palette of muted greys and blues, but only now did she appreciate that he had dressed especially well after their lovemaking. Small details leapt out at her. His sweater was a very fine cashmere, cut in a deep V to show off his tattoo. He rarely put his markings on display. His immaculately tailored slacks were hemmed to fall slightly short. Paired with sockless loafers, there was something vaguely obscene about his shapely, bare ankles. He had been letting his hair grow too. With his wavy mess of locks brushed off his forehead and that swaggering gait, the overall impression was of a feral playboy from the Hamptons.

Godric took them through the pool room and crossed the tiled deck to a set of double doors. A wrinkle of confusion pinched over Amleth's brow as they entered into the foyer of the sauna. "I…wanted to ask your permission to take Rosalyn out for a short drive," he said to Godric.

"A drive," Godric said, nonplussed.

"We won't be longer than an hour."

"You may," he said, then added, "once we are done here." Godric pulled his sweater over his head slowly. He folded the sweater and set it in a cubby. "No repeats of the last time I let you take my newborn out."

Amleth's eyes were glued to Godric's exposed back. He swallowed. "I swear it."

"Seriously, what did you and Eric do?" Rosalyn said.

Godric turned and answered for him. "Eric did not follow his maker's orders. He abused the privilege of not being commanded to obey every little thing he was told to do. He tricked Amleth into doing what he wanted and, in the process, endangered us all."

"He was an idiot, then," Rosalyn said. "Tell me what you expect."

"Do not hunt. Do not reveal yourselves. Do not leave my Area."

Amleth inclined his head. "I swear by the old gods, Godric. She will do no such thing."

Rosalyn bumped Amleth playfully. "I have left the estate before, you know. I'll behave."

"Darling, you underestimate the havoc Godric's progeny can wreak. I, on the other hand, do not. You will obey me."

Godric drew off his belt in a long, purposeful motion. He folded the belt over on itself with a snap. The motion immediately reminded Rosalyn of their delicious fun at sundown. She bit her smile between her lips. Godric narrowed his eyes. "It is not a game. This is not a test. Are you paying attention?" He snapped his fingers at her like he did with his underlings. Like he did with Eric.

She blinked several times. "Yes, Maker."

"You fail me and you will not get back up until I am satisfied you understand. Listen to Amleth."

Rosalyn's eyes went square. He had never threatened her before. "Yes, Maker. I'll listen to Amleth."

"Might I offer your dear child some perspective?" Amleth said.

"By all means." Godric said, suddenly looking his age.

"Do not think that because Godric has reformed himself in other ways that he is changed in his ideas about our family order and discipline. It took Eric over five years to get right with Godric. Eric was arrogant and, as you say, an idiot. You, madame, are neither. You'll have no excuse. You blow it, and Eric's dog days will be nothing by comparison. Godric will come down on you like Armageddon and I will help. Don't waste your youth atoning because you were too proud to take orders from me."

"Forget it," Rosalyn said. "We'll just stay here."

"No," Godric said quickly and eyed Amleth for clarifying a little too well. "Enjoy your outing. We simply want you to be safe. Okay?"

"I'll be good."

Godric's lips quirked in amusement. "If I had a dollar every time someone in this family said that…" Amleth started laughing uncontrollably.

Godric slid out of his pants and wrapped his hips in a short white towel. Rosalyn hung her coat carefully on a wood hanger and turned to Amleth for help with her obi belt. Amleth hesitated to touch her. Godric gestured for him to proceed. He unfolded the fabric around Rosalyn's waist with reverence, and when she was free, she let the silk robe fall off her shoulders into his hands. He sucked in a little gasp at the pleasing curve of her nude backside. She tucked herself in a longer pool towel, leaving her necklace gleaming on her chest.

Amleth stood looking torn as to whether he should excuse himself or ask to join. He clearly was curious to join. Godric chucked a towel at him. When Amleth set his phone on top of his folded clothes, Godric pursed his lips.

"He doesn't want them in his part of the estate," Rosalyn explained.

"Apologies," Amleth said, tapping at it and turning it off.

Godric grabbed a bucket of water and a basket of bottles and stepped into the sauna. He worked slowly, fanning the coals in the sauna's brazier until they were glowing and fragrant. Rosalyn beckoned Amleth to sit beside her on one of the cedar benches. They watched Godric measure and mix oils from his basket into the bucket, his movements purposeful. He stirred the water methodically, raising and tipping the dipper's contents back into the swirling mixture then repeating the motions. When he ladled the water over the brazier, the coals burst into a billowy perfumed cloud. He fanned them again and added more water until the room was deliciously humid.

"Not quite the baths of old," Godric said.

"Smells almost like them," Amleth said, his emerald eyes bright. He leaned to Rosalyn's ear. "Godric's been making these same essential oils forever. He's something of a wizard, if you ask me."

Rosalyn inhaled lungfuls of the warm air. "Lovely."

They sat together, steaming, for twenty minutes. The sounds of the ladle and hissing coals were the only conversation they needed. When the bucket was empty and the three vampires had been purified by the moist heat and the aromas, Godric spoke. "I owe you an apology," he said.

Amleth furrowed his brow and looked at Rosalyn. "He's talking to you, Am," she said, watching her maker.

Amleth looked back to Godric, his confusion plain. "What's this?"

He stared at Amleth with turbulent, sea-grey eyes. "My apologies to you pile up, don't they? One after the next. Piles of words like a monument to my foolishness." Amleth's lips parted in astonishment, but nothing came out. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I hope for it." A pained, heartsick look crossed Godric's features. He averted his gaze to the cedar planked floor. "You always support me."

"Always," Amleth said in a passionate rush. He fell to his knees before Godric and placed his hands over Godric's feet. "Whatever is wrong, Godric, forget it. We've no quarrel."

"Your faith in me is unshakeable. I never have to convince you. You are simply there - "

"-Here," Amleth said speaking over Godric. "Always here. Always."

Godric reached down and pulled the hair tie from the knot on top of Amleth's head. His raven hair fell around his face in shining inked waves. Godric laid his palm on the crown of Amleth's head and stroked his face. "My beautiful, incandescent Amleth. My heart's whisper. My firstborn."

Gooseflesh prickled over Rosalyn's skin. If she had ever wondered how Christ's disciples gazed at their messiah, she need not look further. Tears of desperate joy streamed down Amleth's face.

"I apologize, beloved child. I forgot to seek your guidance. I forgot to seek your blessing before I turned Rosalyn. I took your support for granted when I brought her to my side."

"That's absurd, Father. You had to act quickly before we were dealt another great loss. Had we lost Ros, gods forbid it, or you…that monster -"

"Excuses, Amla."

"Reasons," he countered.

"Irrelevant. I do not accept them," Godric said, his voice cracking.

"You allowed me to witness Rosalyn's Awakening," Amleth said. "To witness your pledging! You allowed me to taste Ros first. Me, before all others! I still cannot believe the honor-"

"'Allowed'?" Godric said sharply and Amleth and Rosalyn jumped. He stood, fists balled at his side. "You speak of 'allowed'?! I'll hear no more of it! It is your birthright!" he thundered. Godric savagely bit the flesh of his hand and squeezed his fist hard over Amleth's head. Blood streamed over his hair and down his face. Amleth stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Get off your knees. No child of my House bends the knee when we are alone."

Amleth rose, his anointed head dripping down his back, dotting the floor with blood. The flare of Godric's power in the confines of the tiny room was nearly unbearable. Rosalyn did not know how long it had been since Amleth had taken Godric's blood. The fact that he stood up and faced the unstoppable ancient – unbonded to him and seven centuries his junior - was beyond the pale of comprehension. She could not fathom doing it herself. As it was, she was frozen with her shoulders scrunched protectively over her neck. Amleth did not flinch. He met Godric's challenging stare with his own steely gaze.

"How may I serve you, Great Lord?" he said through fearsome dropped fangs, undeterred by the Boy Death. His voice burned with determination.

A proud, malicious smile slithered over Godric's lips and he looked past Amleth to Rosalyn. "And that, Ros, is why Amleth of Cumbria is the most dangerous vampire I know." Chills rose on her skin once more. Godric ran a tongue over his teeth. He dragged a finger through the rivulet of blood on Amleth's cheek. "He is not the oldest." He sucked the drip off his finger. "Not the most powerful." He wiped at Amleth's chest and licked the smear. "Doesn't sit upon a throne."

Godric tipped his head thoughtfully to one side and took Amleth's cheeks in his hands. "But he lives with the most conviction. He burns like a black rainbow whose colors we cannot see. He moves as dark matter does, composing all the creatures in the night. They don't even know who he is or what he does, but he is everywhere."

Defiant tears streaked down Amleth's face. "Like Death."

Godric gave another frightening smile. "You are mine," he said and pressed his bloodied fingers to Amleth's lips. Godric closed his eyes as the bond took shape. He dropped his head back, exposing his throat. Amleth stifled a shocked cry against the back of his wrist. "Accept my penance, child. You have waited for it too long."

"I wouldn't dare," Amleth said. "Not there."

Godric lowered his chin. "I abandoned you, Amleth, when you needed me most. I've been failing you for nearly two hundred years, to say nothing of all that came before. Drink, beloved child, as only you among my children can. Tell me why you will."

Another stream of tears escaped Amleth's pinched eyelids. "Because," he choked out, "it is my birthright." Godric folded him into his arms. Amleth closed his mouth over Godric's throat, breathed an oath in Old Gaelic, and bit.

~OOO~

It could not have taken very long. Godric healed so quickly. Yet Rosalyn had no idea of how much time had passed. Amleth drank and released her maker and Godric pressed him to feed again. They bickered and Amleth relented. Then it was Godric sweeping Amleth into his arms. Godric who was looking at her and saying mischievous things about wanting to see him feed. It was his deadly kiss and his predator's embrace ravishing the hollow of Amleth's neck.

She had known when she asked Godric to bond with Amleth that it was a long shot. She had expected he would flat-out refuse. Being privy to their blood tie was beautiful.

But 'beautiful' was too small a word for the miracle that transpired. Their exchange in the sauna had the distinct overtones of a religious epiphany. Rosalyn watched as a great reckoning was made in a relationship whose years spanned millennia. It left her breathless.

Even with her preternatural mind, she had not grasped how damaged things were between Godric and Amleth. When she proposed to Godric that he might rekindle his tie, he treated it with the same neutral consideration as when she had suggested he patch matters with the Viking. With Eric, Godric had apologized and it was done. A wink and a slap on the shoulder, and they were all smiles.

Rosalyn should have listened more carefully. Vampires spoke precisely, Godric above all. He and Amleth's connection was forged in a wound. It was defined by it. Unwittingly, she had rubbed their faces in Amleth's adoption, then casually proposed Godric fix things as though it was as simple as watering a neglected plant. But blood was not water. It was everything to their kind. And Godric's blood – and his refusal to share it – was at the heart of their shared pain. Tonight was a reckoning that had been centuries in the making.

Rosalyn was half in downtime as she dressed. Half lost in her own head as she and Amleth left the estate. In a daze, she looked down at her special clothes and understood at last what Pamela had nearly pulled her hair out trying to explain. Everyone had to live with the vivid memories of their encounters for a very long time, for better or worse. A slip-up or an offense given could never be forgotten. One didn't dress with the past in mind. One dressed to create a pleasing memory which would have an infinite future.

Godric had given Amleth more than his blood. He had given him an artfully composed memory of it. He had turned the night into a stunning piece of theatre, from his clothes and speech, to their ceremonial purification, to Amleth's baptism in the blood. Creatures of sense and recall, they would cherish and relive this experience again and again. And there were hours yet until the night was over.

Amleth was saying something to her while he stroked her knee. He was rubbing his scent into the black silk of her dress with a thumb. "What?" Rosalyn said, regaining awareness of her surroundings. They were in a sports car with Amleth at the wheel.

Amleth glanced at her and smirked. "Welcome back, darling. I wasn't sure if you were going to snap out of it before the surprise." He ground the gears of Eric's Audi and flew over a speedbump. The car bottomed-out and the engine gagged, then roared.

Rosalyn grunted and braced herself against the dashboard. "Eric's going to kill you if you screw up this car!"

He grinned, fox-like. "Oh, did I not mention? I'm an absolute shit driver. No one bloody drives in London. They never have."

The car made another awful sound as he rammed it back into third. "Should I take over?" she said.

"Wrecking Eric's things is an important part of being his sibling. You'll see."

"That's terrible advice!" Rosalyn laughed.

"How else would he come up with excuses to buy new stuff? Besides. I'm the better banker. Without me, he wouldn't have the first clue how to access all of his accounts."

"You're going to -" Rosalyn waved at another speedbump. Amleth took it hard. "Stop the car. Amleth? Stop and switch with me. Seriously. You're high."

"I might be a little under the influence. Godric's blood is…"

"Yeah, I know. Pull over and get out."

"Oh, come on. One more?" He slammed over the next speedbump and laughed like a maniac.

"Pull over now!" They traded on the side of the road and Rosalyn jerkily pulled away. She hadn't driven stick in ages, and certainly never a testy performance vehicle. "You okay?" she said.

"Beyond okay," Amleth sighed happily and leaned against the window. He might have been slightly high on ancient vampire, but he was watchful, just as Eric had been on their outing at the mall. His eyes flicked shiftily from the road to the side mirror. "If I'm being honest, I didn't get the fascination with you. I was grateful for you, of course. But…" He reached over and ghosted his fingertips over her arm. "I see your magic now."

"Tonight was all Godric's doing."

Amleth snorted. "Yeah, about that. No." Rosalyn shrugged helplessly. "Eric has been worried that you were drawing Godric's attention to everyone. He is right that you have been. He couldn't be more wrong in thinking that it's a problem."

"Why would Eric not want me to encourage Godric to pay attention to his family? He lives for Godric's attention. So do you, if we're being honest."

Amleth chuckled. "Not his displeasure."

"Crap. Right. Godric goes totally overboard, doesn't he? I can't even believe he threatened me."

"Darling, that was Godric being extremely polite about a gravely serious matter. Besides, you have it backwards. Godric is an unparalleled guide and teacher. If you're intimidated by the scale of his lessons, it's only because there is so much to learn."

"You and Eric get the same doe-eyed look on your faces and go all vague zen-philosopher when you talk about his teaching."

"Because, little one, he has, without exception, been right."

"He wasn't right when he fucked off to god knows where and ditched you."

Amleth let out a surprised laugh. "You may have a case. Do you know what Godric thought was so important that he dragged me off to the suburbs...that night? Glamouring a human. For our 'security'! We would have been at the Council were it not for him."

"He makes mistakes, Amleth. I realize that's not the popular opinion around here, but it's true. He just apologized for one of his biggest screw-ups. Accept it." Amleth looked down at his folded hands. "And please don't call me 'little one'," she said.

"Yes, madame. Forgive me."

"Always, dingbat."

"That's Sheriff Dingbat Tarquinii of Cumbria to you," Amleth said and they laughed themselves sick.

Amleth continued to scan the road. "Get in the right lane and let that silver Toyota pass," he said suddenly. Headlights crawled in sideways angles over the Audi's glossy dash as the car sped by. He declared it nothing and gave her directions to make a left at the next light.

When she had taken the turn, he spoke again. "You brought love and laughter back into this family."

"You've all been shell-shocked since…that loss."

"Losses," he corrected. "Almost everything was taken from me that night. In less than a second, a drop, really, in an ocean of time. Gone. There is no coming to terms with how little can destroy so much."

"Believe it or not, I know how you feel."

He smiled bitterly. "Loss is the great risk of living."

Rosalyn fell silent for a long moment. "My mom's cancer took its time. I had months to brace myself, and still..."

"And still," he said. He took her hand. He did not say more. Perhaps like Eric, he had done his homework on her. Perhaps it was vampire politeness. Either way, she appreciated his reserve."Thank you, Ros, for making this night possible, and for making it so special. I'll never forget that tonight, of all nights, you dressed for me. You look absolutely ravishing. You have no idea, do you?"

"Pam got the clothes."

He made a sound of derision. "I see your confident hand in every item you chose. I turned my children and moved to Edo about the time this dress was made. Not long after..."

"That night," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you did not know?"

"No. Like I said, Pam picked-"

"Pam would have gone over the top. She would have styled your hair in period fashion, which would have been horribly gauche."

"Oh my god, right?" Rosalyn said, lighting up.

"Your love of this particular outfit is what shines. I was surprised you would know anything about formal Japanese dress."

"Just from museums. I started going a lot after..."

He nodded thoughtfully. "When you began to appreciate what survives the ravages of time. You were drawn to the costumes and wondered what it would be like to try on a different life." He squeezed her hand. "It's little wonder that you chose the oldest among us to dust off and shine up."

"Godric chose me too."

"Let your Awakening gift be a reminder. I chose you, too." Amleth smiled. Rosalyn was unsure of what to say, so she said nothing. Amleth checked the mirrors and had her take another left. "Soon, our world will be introduced to you. They won't understand when they see you. They will see a pretty girl in a pretty dress at a pretty party. They'll clap and raise their glasses and be secretly jealous."

"What will you see?" She was not certain she wanted to know.

Amleth's smile grew. "A sweet potato."

"Amla!"

He laughed. "You'll look completely innocuous standing next to an ancient. A garden vegetable among those who fancy themselves kings and queens. But I'll know better. I know the sweet potato's secret."

"I pair well with butter?"

Amleth snorted in laughter. "Oh, dearest, darling. I'd never dream of mistaking you for a snack, however much I might hunger for you." He cast a scorching look at her that made her skin flush.

"What then?"

"I'll see the wife of a god - the woman that commands Death. You, Rosalyn, are an incomparably powerful creature. Your worth is beyond measure. Don't ever let me lose your favor. Remind me again and again, if you must."

"A glutton for punishment, are you?" she said and he bit his lip.

"You're playing with fire."

"Eric already warned me."

Amleth covered his smirk with two fingers. "Then you'll accept the smallest token of my appreciation. Turn here."

He directed her to turn into an upscale gated neighborhood. She realized that they had not, in fact, gone far. The neighborhood was situated directly north of Godric's estate. They had essentially driven in a huge circle. Amleth gave her a key card. She tapped in and the guard waved them through. Beyond the gate, she followed a series of winding lanes until they pulled into the driveway of a sleek modern ranch house.

Rosalyn got out, nearly forgetting to pull the parking brake on the Audi. The angled driveway would have sent it rolling into the neighbor's ditch. If she managed to not completely trash Eric's car by the end of the night, it would be a miracle. They were already going to catch hell for what Amleth did to the undercarriage.

Amleth handed her the envelope from his jacket. "The title and keys are inside."

"What?" Rosalyn gasped and looked at the house. "No!"

"A wedding gift. I know you won't be in Dallas much longer, but you don't have to spend your days in that horrid estate. Come, let me show you inside."

~OOO~

Godric heard the human working up his courage to enter the staff hallway.

"Godric?" Michael called out timidly.

Godric closed his laptop with a fingertip. He did not know why he was entertaining even the pretense of working. The rush of Amleth's blood and the pleasure of the bond singing between them was the only thing he had on his mind. Amleth's emotions swayed wildly from giddy to brooding and back. It would take time to relearn Amla's mercurial moods and accustom himself to having him rattling around in his head. "Magpie," Godric said fondly. He chided himself. He had forgotten to call Amla 'his magpie' tonight as he had in times bygone.

"Um. Godric?" the boy called again.

Godric supposed he might free a little of his attention to entertain the human. "In here," he said. Michael tiptoed down the forbidden hallway, his breath raspy and his heartbeat louder. He found Godric in the library. "You weren't needed tonight. Didn't you get Isabelle's message?"

Michael fidgeted uncomfortably. "Yeah."

Perhaps it was the heady draught of Old World, Fae-tainted vampire blood making him feel exceptionally ornery. Maybe it was having his wife spank his bare behind and ride him into oblivion. Either way, Godric was rather charmed by the boy. "But you came anyway?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

He leaned back and spread his knees slightly. "Did you come because you wanted me?" he said in a low voice.

"Yeah." A blush creeped up Michael's neck.

Godric licked his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. "Come here then." Michael came to the desk, hands shoved stiffly in the pockets of his jeans. Godric motioned him closer and bid him to sit on the edge of the desk in front of his chair. It was completely inappropriate – the kind of thing he had fantasized Rosalyn might have done to him.

Godric pivoted his desk chair, caging Michael between his knees. "What were you hoping to get from me?"

Michael's blush rose, burnishing his cheeks in red. "Nnnnothing. Sir."

Godric placed a hand on Michael's knee. "Please. Godric will suffice. We don't need titles here." He waited a beat, quirking an eyebrow. "You are in my private rooms, after all."

"I'm so sorry. I know the sign says no trespassing -"

"Why is that, do you think?"

"I…I…"

"Humans might get nipped." He squeezed Michael's knee and the boy squeaked. Godric let out a low, breathy laugh. "Did you think I might feed from you?"

"No, err, I..."

"Did you want me to, Michael? It's okay. You can tell me."

"I…You can, if you like. Of course."

"Oh, I'm certain I can. I'm quite certain I would like, too. That would be very naughty of me though." Godric knew he ought to stop teasing the boy. He knew he was getting carried away. Michael's heart rate was out of control. He trembled like a panicked bunny. Godric decided he rather enjoyed his little jackrabbit.

"You're a clever little hare, aren't you? Coming here offering forbidden fruit."

"Sorry?"

"The hare – he's a trickster in many tales. Would you like to make things a little tricky with me?"

"No!" Michael said. His pores bloomed with panic.

Godric immediately dropped his hand and sat up. That was not an anxious reaction. It was fear. He furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not being tricky! I'm honest or my mother forgets my name!"

Godric jerked his chair backwards. That was his glamour speaking. "Tell me. Immediately."

Michael sagged on the edge of the desk in relief. "I…I don't know if it's anything."

"Speak."

"Yesterday, in the media room. Isabelle's donor."

"Hugo," Godric said tersely.

"He was showing off for Sookie. Talking macho, you know. Hitting on her. She's kinda hot, I guess, but like, a little pushy?"

"Irrelevant. What about the human?"

"Maybe it's nothing but it's been bugging me all day, Sir. I need to tell you just in case."

"What did Hugo say, Michael?"

"I mean, it's probably stupid and I'm just psyching myself up."

Godric was about to crawl out of his own skin. "Tell me now, damn you!"

"He said he could take Sookie to see humans celebrate your wedding. He said there would be fireworks like she'd never seen." Alarm screamed in Godric's ears and the edges of his vision went white. "I mean, everyone around here knows what's going on. But Eric said there would be a big announcement. You haven't made one yet, have you? Nobody else knows…"

Godric had half a reply formed in his mouth when a deep thud vibrated the house. The chandeliers in the library rattled, sending some of their delicate crystals shattering on the floor.

Michael ducked, an arm over his head. "Earthquake!" he said in shock. The lights flickered. Godric did not try to correct him. He was mid-air when the second explosion struck.

Chapter Text

The modern house was unlit. Plastic sheeting covered the furniture, filling the rooms with ghostly, indistinct forms. Amleth spun, arms wide. "Here we are! Don't tell me what you think just yet. You need to see it properly with the recessed lighting. I'll throw on the breaker. One moment, darling."

Rosalyn stood in the shadowy living room, the property title in one hand. Curtain glass windows lined the front façade. Moonlight filtered through the draperies onto the carpet. The place smelled strange, something more than stale. Amleth disappeared into the back of the house. She heard the breaker crack as he turned on the electricity. The wires in the house began their soft, low hum. Rosalyn clicked on a lamp.

Amleth returned and flipped on the overhead lights. He slapped the side of the fireplace, a little breathless with excitement. "What do you think?"

She wrinkled her nose and apologized. "It smells like chemicals and armpits."

"New paint. New carpet. New upholstery. It will wear off, no worries." Amleth pulled up the furniture covers in a giddy dance. Among all the stylish, modern furniture there were touches and textures of natural fibers. It broke up what might otherwise be a very sterile design.

"It's beautiful," she said, plopping down on a couch. "Very serene. Godric will like it."

"This is for you, not him. Now don't just sit there. Let me show you everything!" He pulled her up and began giving her all the details of the house's construction: which tables and desks were authentic and which were reproductions, who made what, and so on. Apparently, the place was once featured in a famous architectural design magazine.

"This is too much," she said.

Amleth rolled his eyes. "You've barely seen it. There is so much more to your surprise."

"Thank you, Am, truly. You've put a lot of thought into this."

"You have no idea. Let's see the master suite, yes?"

Rosalyn noted the door was not secure. Amleth rushed an apology. "It's not quite move-in ready. I haven't had all the mods done yet." She explored the spacious bathroom. It was blessedly free of gold spigots. "Show me which room will be yours," she said.

Amleth raised an eyebrow. "Am I invited to sleep over?"

"Depends."

"On?"

She smiled deviously. "If Godric will let us stay here."

"Now you are just playing hard to get. Don't worry about Godric. I'll deal with him."

"Amla, I'm pretty sure no one just 'deals' with Godric – especially not lately."

"On second thought, you're right. That's your forté. I leave it entirely to you." He led her through the hall. "You're the lady of the house. You pick which rooms you'd like to hide me away in."

"Rooms plural, huh?" she said, laughing. "How about we decide on one and christen it properly?"

Amleth pulled her to him playfully by the hips and pursed his lips. "What did you have in mind, madame? Only proper things? Or can we christen it with improper things as well?" He stroked the sides of her silk dress as he spoke.

She cupped his face with two hands and laughed. "I can't decide if you're actually trying to get me naked or if you really just want to steal the clothes off my back."

He hummed a low laugh, eyes raking over her body, calculating. "One must do the first to achieve the second, no?"

"Always the middle way with you." She bopped him on the nose with a finger. "You're not taking the kimonos."

She could tell her teasing pleased him immensely. He pulled her into the first of the three bedrooms. It had not yet been furnished. They tried the other two and found they were equally empty. Amleth hummed in thought. "I say we build a fire in the living room and forge our bond there."

"Is there wood?" she said.

"Out back."

Amleth asked Rosalyn to sit and relax while he brought an armload of logs in and arranged them in the hearth. A blaze was roaring in no time. He stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned, he leaned against the brick of the fireplace and pulled the tie on his jacket. He watched her reaction as he untucked his tunic and spread the fabric from his bare chest.

Rosalyn was stretched out on the couch, arms folded on the armrest, head resting on her arms. "You do know I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Not tonight," he said, his gaze dancing in the firelight. "Come here, Rosalyn. You're much too far away."

A phone rang. Amleth's head jerked toward the sound. It rang again. He looked back up at Rosalyn.

"Are you going to answer it?" she said.

His face went blank. "It's not mine."

~OOO~

Godric's body hit the boy with force. He lay atop Michael for several seconds as his mind tried to make sense of a sudden onslaught of information. All of his blood bonds were screaming.

"Ow," Michael said in a mewl.

Godric blinked. "You okay?"

The human winced and pushed at Godric's shoulder. Godric was on his feet instantly and pulled Michael to stand. He heaved open one of the library's bookshelves, revealing a small hidden room. Grabbing Michael by the scruff of his t-shirt, he pushed him inside. "Stay here. Don't leave until me or one of the staff you know tells you it's safe."

"Godric!" he said in terror. "What's happening?"

"We're under attack." Godric slammed the panic room shut and ran full speed down the hallway. Eric met him at the junction between the staff corridor and the living room. He was already armed with a sword and a gun. His eyes were wild. "Rosalyn."

"Amleth too," Godric said.

They reached the common room and Godric began giving orders. "Everyone remain calm and listen carefully. There's been a bombing near the estate, just north of here. Rosalyn and Amleth are hurt. Isabelle, Hugo is a suspected Fellowship mole."

"What!?" she said, her usual demeanor momentarily jarred askew.

"Have Caleb find him and bring him in. I need you here. Secure the compound. No one enters or leaves unless given orders by me. Alert the Area that we are on lockdown protocol. Get Dr. Ludwig on standby. Eva, help Isabelle organize a forensics team. Stan, Pamela, be ready to mobilize a tactical unit in five. Costas, you come with us."

Sookie ran to join them. "What's going on? What was that?"

Godric narrowed his eyes at her. "Lock yourself in your room and do not leave until you are given permission."

"Why? What -" she said in a shriek.

"Now!" Godric and Eric said in unison. Eva took Sookie by the arm and marched her back to her room. Costas grabbed a rifle from Stan and threw an arm over Eric's shoulder to hitch a ride. Within seconds, Godric and Eric had taken to the sky and were rocketing toward the source of the excruciating pain in their bonds.

~OOO~

'It's not mine,' Amleth had said.

In an instant, the world had resolved itself into ash and fire. Rosalyn was blind. All she could see was a wall of white. All she could taste was dust and heat. It scalded her nose and eyes. Her skin felt like it was melting. Her body was dead weight. She could not move. In her mind, she was screaming, screaming herself hoarse for help. Panic rose as she realized she was not loud enough. Her voice was pathetic. She could not hear herself at all. The only sound was a high-pitched ringing. Another phone? A siren? Her ears were bleeding. Everything was bleeding.

The explosion had knocked her senseless. Struggling for air, she called out for Amleth. Bleary-eyed and coughing violently, she tried to see through the haze of white. "Amleth," she cried out. She could see his body in the rubble. She pulled herself onto her forearms and tried to crawl to him. Something held her back. The couch she had been reclined on had flipped and she was caught beneath its remains. A shard of wood, two inches thick, was impaled in her leg. She reached down and freed herself from it and scrabbled at the floor for traction.

"Amleth!" she yelled at the bloodied heap. It did not move. She screamed in frustration. He had been standing next to the fireplace when it happened. Half the room felt miles away. When she finally reached him, she vomited.

"Oh my god, Amla," she gagged. She bit her wrist open and tried to feed what she thought was his mouth. She wiped through the blood and plaster and raw muscle, trying to find any sign of life. She begged him to respond. She was feeding him again when she remembered her blood would do nothing to heal him. He needed his true bloodkin and he needed a human. She focused on the fact that he was still flesh and bone. Vampires denatured when they died. She desperately hoped this counted as whole.

~OOO~

Emergency crew sirens were already whining in the distance when Godric and Eric landed in front of the husk of the modern house. Every car alarm on the block had been set off. Eric's flashing Audi was an unnecessary confirmation that they were in the right place. Godric motioned for caution.

"Hurry," Eric said. "We've got five minutes, ten tops, before the human authorities get here."

"What the fuck?" Costas snarled at the house.

Godric narrowed his eyes at Costas's reaction. "You know this place," he said. It was not a question.

"Amleth bought it. I gave him the keys tonight," Costas said. He furrowed his brow. "He's not conscious, Sheriff."

"Perimeter first." Godric sent the Greek vampire around back and led the way to the blown-out front. Eric was two footfalls behind him. He primed his rifle. Godric rapidly assessed the direction the curtain glass had shattered onto the front lawn. "Primary explosion came from the center of the house." The bomb had been small. It had caused damage enough. He inched toward the entryway. "Front door was a secondary."

Eric warned Costas across the yard. "Don't go in. Could be rigged." He swore under his breath. "Some fucking ISIS shit right here."

Godric paused. His mind raced. Eric was right. The job was professional. Secondary bombs were placed to maximize carnage – to kill survivors as they tried to escape or kill aid workers entering to help. "Call it in to Stan. Hugo didn't do this alone. Suspects are military, familiar with guerrilla explosives. Likely did deep recon - Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria." He raised his voice to call inside. "Ros, we're coming. Stay where you are." Godric leaned inside the doorframe and inspected the ceiling at the source of the second blast.

Eric quickly relayed the house address and situation report over the phone. "Stan, boots on the ground, stat. Hugo is priority one. Have Isa pull up our military records while you're hunting him down. Have her start with Navy Seals. Look for long Middle East active duty, no medals or honors. Someone too top secret and deeply embedded for public recognition. Likely a recent or abrupt discharge. Hugo made some new friends."

Godric declared the front safe to enter. Eric caught him by the shoulder. He jerked his head toward the growing spectators standing on their lawns. Godric nodded and pushed through the wreckage into the house. Eric winced with a hiss. The place reeked of silver and detonated C-4 compound. Wood shards were everywhere, sticking at crazed angles from the drywall.

Godric could not get to Rosalyn fast enough. She was collapsed protectively over Amleth's body, oblivious to the silver shrapnel that had torn her to shreds. He worked more efficiently than he ever had in the war trenches of Europe. He fed her his blood and sucked the bits of silver from her skin and spat them out, unflinching as they scalded his tongue and lips. He ignored Costas and Eric's shouts as they tried to revive Amleth. Rosalyn grew responsive with Godric's blood and feebly tried to help him pull the wood and metal fragments from her body. She was getting in the way of his teeth. He went to bat her hand away. He caught it mid-air instead and swore. It took him an excruciating minute before he found the three fingers she was missing. He could not blot out her cries of anguish as he did the violence necessary to re-attach them. On her fourth blood transfusion, Rosalyn croaked a question. "Amleth?" Godric glanced over at Eric and Costas. He shook his head. Godric scooped his wife into his arms and took to the sky once more.

~OOO~

At the estate, Isabelle directed the emergency with total composure. She was made of fiercer stuff than any general. When she saw the look on Godric's face as he stormed in, she slammed flat against the wall with her hands up.

"Sitrep," Godric demanded.

"Hugo is still AWOL. Stan's team is deployed. The King is on the phone." She held out the device.

"Later."

"But he -"

"Later. Recall Pamela."

"Yes, Sheriff."

Godric grabbed a throw blanket from the back of a couch and folded Rosalyn inside it. "Pam is going to take care of you. Drink as much donor blood as you can and either swim or jog in between to speed along its conversion."

"Conversion?" she said, her voicebox still scorched from the vaporized silver.

"Into vampire blood. Drink, exercise, drink more. Got it?"

She grunted. She looked like she had baked in the sun. Her skin was livid pink. "I'm so sorry."

His jaw was set. "Not as sorry as the Fellowship will be when I'm through with them." He waited impatiently for Pamela return. That she could not yet fly was extraordinarily unhelpful. He asked Rosalyn basic questions about the bombing. She had no immediately useful information.

When Pamela finally did arrive, she came running full-speed. "Grandsire, how may I serve?"

Godric lifted the bundle of Rosalyn off his lap and set her down on the couch. He got an inch from Pamela's face, razor-sharp canines bared. "Guard her with your life or yours is over. Keep her fed and moving until I return." Pamela whispered a 'yes, Grandsire' at the floor.

On his way out, Godric remembered that he had left Michael in a panic room. "Isabelle, Michael's in the library. Lock him down in a vampire suite. If he's harmed, it's your head. He's likely the only proof that you were ignorant of Hugo's actions."

"Consider it done."

"What's the ETA on Dr. Ludwig?"

"She's still in Prague."

Godric snapped at her phone. Isabelle dialed the irascible healer and passed the device over.

"I'll get there when I get there, fanger!" Ludwig answered.

"Patsy," Godric said, pouring glamour into his voice. It did not work especially well on other supernatural creatures. He needed to put the right spin on the situation, too. "Get here immediately. Our Fae ambassador's life is in the balance and our peace with the humans is in jeopardy."

He hung up and Dr. Ludwig teleported the foyer with a 'pop!'. "Where's the patient," she said gruffly.

"Half mile north." Godric went to fly her there. His arms grabbed empty air. She had already popped away. He closed his eyes and called to Eric.

They found each other in the sky. Eric was covered in plaster dust that had caked with blood. His expression was murderous. Amleth's condition was unchanged. "Newlin," Godric said. Eric needed no further encouragement. They rocketed westward, towards the home of the Fellowship of the Sun's leader.

Within minutes, they were standing on the portico of Steve Newlin's stately mansion. Eric rang the doorbell. Godric gritted his jaw and kicked in the double doors, sending them flying through the foyer. He marched inside, fists balled. Eric was stuck outside, unable to cross the threshold. "How the hell did you get an invitation here?"

"I didn't," Godric said. He stormed up the grand staircase, following the scent and sounds of the humans inside. The doors of the master bedroom received an equally brutal treatment. He ripped them off the hinges and threw them aside. Two shapes moved under the covers of a large canopy bed. The room smelled of sex. "Get up!" he ordered. A blond woman screamed and emerged, her lipstick smeared. He recognized Steve's wife, Sarah Newlin. "Invite my child Eric inside," he said. She wiped her mouth. She had been sucking cock. "Now!"

"Come in," Sarah said, blinking stupidly.

"Eric," Godric supplied.

"Come in, Eric," she said. The glamour confused her. She could not remember why she had let vampires in her home. Sarah started to panic. "Who are you? Why are you here?" A muffled voice under the sheets cussed and a second head emerged. The sandy blond-haired young man was not Steve. He struggled to escape the bed linens. If Godric were not so completely far gone in the red zone, he might have found the humans' slow reactions comical. At present, it was tedious. The blond lunged for the bedside table drawer. He fell several inches short. Godric walked to the drawer and had the gun the man was inevitably stumbling for before he could blink.

"You listen here, little fanger -" the man said, pointing an impotent finger at him. Godric pointed the gun at him in response.

"Jason fucking Stackhouse," Eric said, zipping to the second floor.

Godric's head spun. "Sookie's brother?" He lifted the weapon from where he had it trained on the man's balls.

Eric shook his head in disgust. "Where's Steve?"

"He's at the Church," Sarah said. "Get out of my house! I take it back! I undo your invi-"

"No, you don't," Godric said, letting his influence wrap over her once more. "Eric stays. Take us to Newlin."

"You too, Stackhouse," Eric said. "Preferably with little Stackhouse there covered up."

Godric snapped at Eric. "Fix her." Eric set to righting Sarah's bedhead and touching up her makeup.

"You're too late," Sarah said. Eric shuttled her back into her dress and heels.

"Tell us what you've planned," Godric said.

"We're going to roast one of your filthy kind in the sun. Praise His light!"

Jason volunteered information unglamoured. "Our Soldiers of the Sun are catching one of you tonight. I'm their leader."

"Top of his cohort," Sarah said.

Godric sucked at his teeth in annoyance. "Yet you are not with your brothers. Why?"

"I'm escortin' Ms. Newlin to the church," Jason said.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Jason, you heap of meat, you're certainly an escort. I hope she pays you well." He turned to Godric. "You think the Fellowship gives their hookers vision and dental? Fangtasia's PPO does."

Godric ignored him. "Where are they getting the vampire?"

"Steve knows," Sarah said cheerfully.

"Then let's ask Steve-O," Eric said.

Godric caught the glint of violence in Eric's eyes. Toying with his prey was one thing - Godric had unfortunately taught him that. Further violence tonight would be the Reveal's undoing. "We will spill no blood. I command it." Eric dipped his head at his maker. He shoved Jason into an inside out t-shirt.

They heavily glamoured the duo and proceeded to fly to the Fellowship compound, touching down at a cautious distance in the parking lot. Men armed with stakes guarded the front doors. The Church was on lockdown too.

Godric reaffirmed his directions with Sarah. She was to get inside, tell Steve that Jason had caught a vampire, and that Steve needed to come outside to help bring him in. Sarah got past the guards without a hiccup. She was expected. They crouched behind a row of parked cars, waiting for their ringer to do their dirty work.

"What's taking so long, boss?" Jason asked Godric.

"Shush," Godric told him.

Eric was busy hotwiring the GT next to them. "You're like a bad penny, Stackhouse. Does your sister know you're here?"

"Nah, Sook run off with a fanger months ago. Some new fella, all swarthy and foreign. Fuckin' fangers."

"Well this 'fuckin' fanger' owns your ass. Or did you think I didn't know you were doing V in my Area?"

Godric snarled at Jason. "What's this?"

Jason recoiled, crossing his fingers at Godric. "Get back! The power of Christ compels you!"

"Keep your voice down, you idiot," Eric said. He shook his head in dismay. "Seriously? 'The Exorcist'? You have got to be the dumbest son of a bitch on this planet."

Godric smacked Jason's crossed fingers away, irate. "Whose blood have you stolen, you warped faeling thief?"

"Edward Fournier's," Eric said. "He didn't make it thirty years into his undeath. Pathetic." Godric pressed his palms into the asphalt as his control started to slip. Eric saw it. "Maker," he warned. "That business is done. We're here for your wife and Amleth."

"You killed this vampire?" Godric said to the boy, his voice dropping. He saw Jason's muscles twitch as he thought of fleeing. Godric clapped a foot down on the cuff of Jason's jeans, trapping him before he could scramble away.

Jason swallowed. "It wasn't me! Ya gotta believe me!"

Godric flicked his eyes to his son and back to the pinned human. He got in Jason's face. "What I believe is that Eric is the only thing standing between you and me."

Eric dropped the two wires he was sparking beneath the steering column. He set a hand on Godric's bicep. "Stackhouse's girlfriend was the drainer. She killed Fournier to hide the crime. She's dead too. I've handled it. Jason is more valuable to us as Sookie's brother."

Godric raised his chin to look down his nose at Stackhouse. "You had better start telling us why you're in bed with our enemies. Don't lie. I'll know."

Jason proceeded to spout a mess of convoluted ideas about how vampires were taking everyone's jobs and fooling with men's wives and sisters and were generally a virus that should be wiped from the Earth. Godric entertained his pitifully mundane blather until he felt his bloodlust ratchet in back of his throat. "I haven't eaten fairy in a very long time," he said. "Not even a spark-less one such as yourself."

"Who you callin' a fairy, Chuckie?"

"You." Godric ran a tongue over his fangs. Jason swallowed. "You're an adulterous blood thief who's guilty of possession, kidnapping, wrongful imprisonment, and conspiracy to murder. Let us hope, for your sake, that is enough to keep me repulsed." Godric turned to Eric. The car was running and ready for Sarah and her husband to emerge from the side exit as planned. "Don't let him speak to me again. I'll do something inadvisable."

Eric snickered. "It's good to be in war with you again, Maker."

Godric gave him a dirty look. "There is nothing good about this."

~OOO~

Godric should have stopped and fed. He should have at least asked Eric for his blood. He was drained from feeding Rosalyn and yet far too full of rage to do anything but press on. He sent Eric home with the Newlins and Stackhouse in cuffs, and went straight to the ER to join Dr. Ludwig.

Ludwig, to her credit, was discrete. She did not comment on the fact that Godric charged through eleven hours of surgery during the daytime without the bleeds. They had worked together before. Between his vampiric speed and her dwarven magicks, they made a formidable team.

Eva joined them at the hospital for the first critical hours, scrubbing in to assist. She had not trained as a nurse, but she could give Amleth direct transfusions, hold clamps, and pass gauze. It helped that infection was not a concern. She passed along updates to Godric as they filtered in over her earpiece until the nearing sunrise sent her to find shelter for the day. What news she shared was not heartening. The preliminary report from the forensics team at the crime site confirmed everything Godric was seeing on the operating table.

Amleth's condition was critical. He had taken the brunt of the blast on his right side. Forensics determined that the first bomb had been hidden in the kitchen island where the house's open concept floorplan allowed it to cause maximal damage. It had been packed with a variety of projectiles, including silver bullets. The bullets were hollow points. Illegal and vicious, the casings exploded on impact, radiating fragments inside their victims. Rosalyn had caught her fair share of shrapnel. Amleth was absolutely riddled with it. That amount of silver stopped the body's ability to force foreign particles out of the flesh and heal, leaving the victim paralyzed and vulnerable. That Rosalyn had managed to crawl toward Amleth after being injured was exceptional. Godric allowed himself only a brief second to send love to the selfless, brave woman. He had to focus on Amleth's ruined body and the forceps and retractors in his hands.

Forensics needed more time to investigate, but they suspected the second bomb had been triggered immediately after the first by accident. The thin ceiling supporting the explosives above the entryway had not been reinforced. The ceiling had collapsed. It was a blessing in disguise that Rosalyn was hurt in the initial explosion. If she had tried to escape in the handful of seconds after the primary blast, she would have most certainly been killed.

As if the silver hollow points planted in the bombs were not egregious enough, the bomb-maker had filled some of the bullets with colloidal silver. The idea was devious, but like the bomb sitting on a flimsy bit of plasterboard, poorly executed. The bullets were weighted incorrectly as a result. Top-heavy, they spun out along unstable trajectories and mostly bounced off the brick and drywall. Two had deflected off Amleth's shallow bone – at his scapula and cranium - causing superficial chemical burns where the silver liquid burst over his skin.

By the time Godric and Dr. Ludwig had debrided Amleth's wounds and realized he was still not healing, the damage was done. Amleth's CT scan had shown where he was riddled with shrapnel. But CT was notoriously distorted by the presence of metal. They thought they had excavated the last of it. When they scanned Amleth again, they saw what had been missed. The wound on the back of Amleth's head had masked another, far more substantial injury. One of the colloidal bullets was lodged inside his brain. It had unloaded a toxic dose of silver particulate into his body. There was nothing anyone could do – human, vampire, or dwarf – to stop the silver poisoning. All they could do was remove the silver fragments and wait.

Godric's medical skills were limited to what had been cutting edge in the 1940s. He sat helplessly in the operating theater observation deck and watched as three human neurosurgeons used a robot to carve into his son's skull and prod at his brain. The doctors were revoltingly giddy at the opportunity to cut into a vampire. Medical experimentation on their kind was outlawed. The humans had neither knowledge about vampires' magical nature nor basic instruments to guide their surgical decisions. The usual accoutrements – electrocardiograms and heart monitors and the like – were useless on bodies with no electrical signals or cardiovascular movements. The doctors were flying blind, unsure of how their treatment was affecting the patient. They proceeded as if it was a cadaver - an extremely valuable cadaver whose absurdly youthful-looking father sat and watched their every move.

A darkness settled over Godric as he waited. His Second in Command had missed her human lover's involvement in this disaster. It was a grotesque and unconscionable misstep - the stuff of blundering newborns. There was not a stitch of mercy in Godric's body for such outrageous errors. How many fangs had he pulled over the years? How many underlings had he staked? He had beaten Eric within an inch of his newborn life for risking their security. He had done far worse to Amleth over similar incidents. And when Tarquin had compromised the safety of their nest?

Godric slid his head into his hands and stared at the ugly rubberized floor of the observation deck. When Tarquin had carelessly revealed their resting ground to humans, Godric had almost killed him for risking the safety of the boys. All those centuries ago, Godric had been so badly rattled by the incident that he had claimed Amleth as his own, not trusting Tarquin to care for him any longer. He had taken Eric and Amleth far away for many years. He had raised them right. They knew better. Which is why the present situation beggared belief.

Godric himself had missed Hugo's defection to the Fellowship. It was he who had not acted quickly enough on the King's information about the Fellowship. He was Sheriff. He was one of a handful of true ancients in North America. These were his underlings, his children, in his Area, on his watch. This was his fault.

The doctors stepped back from the steel operating table and looked expectantly at Godric. They had succeeded in removing the bullet fragments, but were not sure how to close up. Godric scrubbed back in and showed them how to set the bone and skin in the correct positions with dissolving sutures. They should not use staples or stronger suturing wire, he explained. It would hinder the body's ability to heal. They accepted it as they had accepted that he was a good vampire. As they accepted he could walk around during the daytime. He did not know why he bothered to teach them. He thought of Rosalyn, and knew she would have some hopeful insight about the beauty of the doctors' docility. But she was not here. She had nearly died and Amleth lay carved up like meat on a butcher block. There was nothing beautiful he could find in this. The same healing knowledge he had shared could be weaponized to hurt vampires. He had seen hideous things done to that effect.

Godric glamoured the human surgeons to remember only that they had helped him heal a vampire, and that they could rely on him to help them again. He had the doctors strip off their bloodied scrubs and gloves and put them in a plastic sac. Everything with traces of Amleth's blood would be destroyed in the incinerator. The lead neurosurgeon who had performed so admirably lingered behind to thank Godric for the opportunity to have assisted. She was not sure what she had done to help. Godric found himself on autopilot, telling her about the possibility of an all-inclusive medical school. Vampires wanted to learn how to use their robots and modern lab techniques. She was interested.

"How long have you practiced?" she said.

"I've...always practiced. It wasn't called medicine when I was young."

"What did you call it?"

Were it any other time, he might have felt a weak smile well up. No one had asked him that in half a century. It was the Gods' Order - Goðrík. He had never felt more unworthy of the name than right now, as his beloved magpie lay unhealed. "The Old Ways," he said instead.

She smiled brightly. "Like Magic?"

"Something like that." Like Rosalyn's music, he wanted to say. Godric desperately needed his wife. She would know what to do with this catastrophe.

The neurosurgeon went to pat his shoulder and he shied from her touch. "Sorry!"

"We prefer if you ask."

"Of course. Apologies. I only meant to say that I'm sorry about your boy, Dr. Godfrey. I've got rounds elsewhere, but I'll try to be back later to check in. I'd like to hear more about this university too. Sunset, right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Dr. - "

"Isla Jones."

"Thank you for your work here today. I could not have done it without you."

"You sure you don't want me to have a nurse find a better recovery room?"

"No, Dr. Jones. Small and windowless rather suits us."

She gave a reassuring smile and left Godric to wait. Either Amleth would wake at sundown and he would start healing automatically, or he would not. Godric could not let himself imagine the rest of that thought.

The only longer hours Godric could remember enduring were those that crept by before Rosalyn and Eric's Awakenings. The Earth made its lumbering procession and the clock on the wall ran slower and slower. Dr. Jones rejoined him. A quarter of an hour later, Dr. Ludwig came back too, startling the human when she materialized out of thin air.

Godric felt the sun's rays drop behind the curtain of night. The bandaged man on the stretcher did not move. Godric mentally nudged the tiny spark of their bond which told him Amleth lived, but nothing happened. He tried again and again. The spark was there and it would not rouse. The neurosurgeon poked the bottom of the patient's foot with her pen. "No plantar reflex. I'm sorry. Not even a positive Babinski sign." Godric's fists curled and Dr. Ludwig wisely got Dr. Jones out of the room.

In an either/or scenario, Godric had been prepared for the 'either'. He had no idea what to do with the 'or'. Amleth could not Awaken. He was dead.

Chapter Text

The ambulance crawled to a stop in front of the estate gates. Godric scanned the area for media vans or protesters. Caleb came out of the guardhouse with a flashlight and signaled. All was quiet. The location of the nest had not been compromised. Godric did not feel relief. Hate was a Hydra-headed monster. No matter how quickly his clean-up team had moved or how many Fellowship members were glamoured this time, there would be more. There were always more.

Godric was on autopilot, balancing at the edge of a black hole that dared him to leap. He had not taken his hand off Amleth's lifeless body since they had left the hospital. Dr. Ludwig accompanied him in the back of the ambulance. She was not one to offer meaningless platitudes. It was the only reason he allowed her to join him. She did not trouble him with false comfort and pointless banter.

At the house, Dr. Ludwig helped Godric transfer the stretcher inside. It clanked and squeaked into the echoing foyer. They might as well have returned with a casket. His retinue crowded the entryway. Costas barged forward. "He's still unconscious! Why is he still unconscious?"

"Maker?" Eric said. He was holding Rosalyn's hand. His wife was barefoot in leggings wearing one of his starched dress shirts. His progeny looked lost together. Everyone was waiting for him to explain.

"Amleth is incapacitated." Godric's voice sounded hollow in the garish hall. "Costas, you are acting Sheriff of London. Eva, assume Second -"

"No," Costas said, furious. "No, no, no. Forget the Sheriffdom. What the fuck do you mean he's 'incapacitated'?" Eva began sobbing into her hands. Eric had frozen.

Godric leveled a deadly gaze at Costas. "Swear at me again, underling, and I will eat your filthy tongue."

Dr. Ludwig stepped in. She had zero tolerance for vampire theatrics. "Stand down, Manetas. Godric's been through hell trying to save your maker. Amleth is silver poisoned and brain dead. We've done all that we could do."

Costas wavered on his feet momentarily, as if he was going to protest. As if he might strike out. Godric shifted his weight, ready to flatten him. It was unnecessary. Costas crumpled to his knees in a wail. Eva tried to throw herself over Amleth's prone body. Godric caught her arms mid-air and flung her towards Stan. He caught her gracelessly and she crushed the cowboy hat he had pressed respectfully against his chest. Godric only half registered that Rosalyn had clasped his elbow and was pouring apologies at him. He and Ludwig were trying to push the stretcher through the hall. Everyone was shouting questions at him. Everyone, except Eric.

His child stared at him. Eric's face betrayed nothing of the disgust and rage roiling beneath the surface. His steady torrent of emotions turned to crushing disappointment, then fell silent as Eric looked away. Eric had choked off what he could of their bond. It leaked and splattered all over the place - he could never hide himself from his maker truly - but the shape and feel of his thoughts was gone. Godric heard nothing but Eric's final thought, ringing in his mind: 'You failed.'

Godric was not in a position to argue. He dropped his eyes and threatened his retinue with violence if they did not allow him to pass.

In Amleth's suite, the staff shuttled furniture around to make room for the new bed. Godric waited with a hand on Amleth's bandaged forearm. Dr. Ludwig had taken command of these details and saw that Amleth was comfortably set up. She retrofitted an insulin pump to forcibly inject him with fresh human blood at set intervals and gave Amleth's children instructions about how to move his body and how often to fill the machine with their own blood. Ludwig's services never came with such palliative frills.

"Why are you doing this? Did you owe Amleth a favor?" Godric said, feeling paranoid and suspicious of everyone.

"It's you that owes the world, Death. Now get back to work. You've got a hell of a mess to sort out." With that, she popped away to another client. Godric did not have time to puzzle over what she meant. She was right. There was too much to do. If he stopped, that chasm of darkness might swallow him whole.

He left as Eva was lighting candles around Amleth's suite. He knew he should say something, but what could possibly be said under these circumstances? Whether Amleth's murder was last night on the operating table or fifteen hundred years ago in Tarquin's courtyard, he was the man's killer. He had no place lingering at his wake. It served Godric right to be bonded to Amleth in his final days. He deserved every agony for failing his boy once again.

Godric went to change out of his bloodied scrubs. He found his bunker of a day chamber in disarray. Evidence of his children's distress lay everywhere. Eric had left his ruined clothes on the bathroom floor where they had fallen off him, ostensibly before a shower. Rosalyn's blood tears smeared her pillowcase. Eric had not wanted to leave her side - not even to shower upstairs where the shower stall actually accommodated his huge frame. Godric gathered Eric's clothing and put it in the waste bin along with his own. His senses shocked yet again at the scent of Amleth's blood in the air.

Nude, he sat on the edge of the bed before turning and burying his face in its nest of sheets and down. He inhaled his children's scents. He wanted to burrow into them and hide away. Or scream and never stop screaming until he woke from this nightmare. He could practically taste his son's frustration in the linens. Eric had stayed here and tried vainly to comfort Rosalyn. Rosalyn would have inevitably wanted words. Whatever he had said had not worked and Eric, coming off his favorite of poisons - battle and revenge - had resorted to his baser instincts. Not everyone was so easily distracted by Eric's body as Eric himself was. Then again, there were no words for this abomination. Rosalyn should have taken Eric up on his offer. Instead, strife loomed large in the studio.

A wadded-up washcloth on the bedside table caught his eye. Godric reached over and inspected it. Eric had stayed awake through the day. A growl slipped past his lips. It bore more than the marks of the bleeds. In the silence of dawn, Eric's tears had slipped against his will when he thought no one would know.

Godric changed into a black sweater and black pants, and readied himself for all-out war.

~OOO~

Godric paced the war room with his hands clasped behind his back as his people shared their updates. Eric had interrogated the Newlins and Prince Niall's fool of a great-grandson with Costas's help. Stan and his team had captured Hugo and successfully ferreted out Hugo's military accomplice. It was solid work for such a small time-frame. Godric expected nothing less. The humans were parked in jail cells alongside Godric's other long-suffering demon guest, Derek Ronwe.

Godric had a basement full of villains. What he did not have was answers. They had run into a serious problem. Hugo was not their leak. Hugo had not known who was going to be harmed in the incident, nor had he any idea that the house was connected to Isabelle's nest. He wanted retribution for Isabelle's refusal to turn him and had completely misunderstood why he had not been welcome at the estate lately. He had turned to the Fellowship for comfort and the Fellowship welcomed him with open arms, connecting him with the bomb-maker. The bomber's radicalization was equally sad and ordinary. Vampires were convenient scapegoats for his own unhappy life.

Neither Hugo or the bomb-maker had known how Amleth's residential house had been identified as a target. They were not particularly concerned that the bombs were made to kill – and not to maim and capture as Newlin wanted. The Soldiers of the Sun were not in place when the devices were detonated to collect a victim and the conspirator who triggered the bombs remained at large. The entire plot smacked of inexperience – and something more. It felt off.

It was Steve Newlin who knew why the house had been selected – and Steve had proven remarkably unhelpful. He insisted he had been tipped off by an anonymous caller. He could not recall the exact day of the phone call or anything that might help them narrow down where to look in the Fellowship's phone records. They received thousands of calls every month. Amleth was usually the one who handled big data problems. They would have to outsource the analysis, but to whom? Neither Eric nor Godric could detect a trace of glamour in Steve's responses, but Godric was not taking chances.

Godric called the king and ordered the entire state to be put on martial law. Sheriffs were to take roll. Any vampire found out of place or caught trying to leave Texas was to be detained without exception. King Peter offered to review the Fellowship's phone records himself. He was highly skilled at IT and had been the one who had helped keep Godric up to date on all matters technical. Still, Godric preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. Eric put the speakerphone on mute. "If someone was stupid enough to call on a traceable line, Maker, they are dumb enough for someone else to handle."

"It was Peter's people who let the Fellowship slip past them in the first place."

"True, but his dogs aren't going to crunch the numbers for us, he is. He has no earthly reason to mess with you."

"Unless someone has gotten to him."

Eric exhaled in frustration. Rosalyn tried to help. "You have to delegate some things, hon."

Stan guffawed. "'Have to'? Beggin' yer pardon, Ros, but you're new, sweetheart. 'Have to' and Sheriff Godric don't belong in the same sentence."

Godric gave his assassin an uncomfortably long stare. "I don't like it, but I agree with my progeny. Isabelle, set up an encrypted line and send the raw data."

They unmuted the call. Peter wanted to know what he was supposed to do about public relations. Nan Flannigan was already making wild accusations on live tv. She was calling for Godric's resignation.

"How convenient," Godric said joylessly. He had already planned on quitting - as much as anyone his age could actually quit. He leaned over the conference call speaker. "What would you like us to do?" he said.

"I say we use Eric to confuse the cornbread, 'these colors don't run', asshole humans. If I go on tv, they won't see past my skin color."

"Or your pocket protector," Eric said dryly.

"Exactly," Peter said. "Isabelle's a beautiful woman, and they won't believe Godric's our elder, no matter what anyone says. They won't know how to vilify a big tall Viking man with good hair and a perfect American accent. Plus, Eric's a bigger bitch than Nan any day."

Eric snorted. "Kisses to you too, Pete."

Godric frowned. "We will not give the media any more fodder to implicate our family in this disaster. It is the Fellowship who have committed this act. You may make a statement condemning their violence against our kind. Stress the need for adequate policing of extremist hate groups." Pamela raised a hand. "My grand-progeny wishes to comment."

The king allowed her to speak. "Keep the pocket protector and wear glasses, your majesty. It says 'safe public intellectual and sexy nerd pundit'."

"Duly noted." Peter addressed Godric again. "What about Nan? Her fingering you as a leader risked exposing our government."

"I object to her existence." Godric went to hang up.

"I do too," Rosalyn blurted out. "However…we might have other considerations."

"Who is addressing me?" Peter said, his tone clipped.

"This is Dr. Rosalyn Murray, your majesty." Godric watched his wife and realized what she was doing.

"Yes, forgive me, madame. We've not been introduced."

"An error soon to be rectified," Godric said. "Madame is correct. Have California arrest Flannigan for violation of statute 2.19. She is wanted for questioning in Texas." Godric cut the call.

Eric cut his eyes at his sister. "You just saved that bitch's life."

Rosalyn looked at Eric coldly. "Now she owes me everything." Eric raised an impressed eyebrow. Rosalyn stood and everyone at the war table quickly stood in deference. She was rapidly learning how to play this game. Godric took Rosalyn's hand and snapped at Eric and Pamela to follow them.

~OOO~

Godric shut the doors of the library and rested his forehead against the wood. If he stopped to think, he would hear the seductive call of Death. Whispers that urged him to raze the Fellowship to the ground. Destroy the AVL media machine. Dismantle the Great Reveal for the fool's errand it was. Commit unspeakable atrocities. He could do it and no one could stop him. The smell of fear and taste of organs danced just beyond his senses. 'If I have to end Amleth's life,' it chanted. 'If I have to, when I do…'

Rosalyn put a hand on his back. "Godric, what can we do?" she said. His family was waiting for his leadership. He swallowed and took her in his arms. He took a deep breath. Her hair smelled singed.

He sat down on the floor. The other three vampires joined him. He wanted to return to Rosalyn's account. Her preternatural memory might hold some clue as to how Amleth's property had been compromised. Costas knew nothing helpful. He had only retrieved the keys and title from a P.O. Box the previous night. He had not been involved in the purchase. Godric could not make sense of it.

"Unless someone claims otherwise, we operate as if Roman is ultimately behind this. We have many enemies and the Fellowship has fanned the flames of hate in every direction, but Roman remains Enemy Number One. What I want to know is how -" his voice cracked, " – how in the name of everything undead did someone manage to track my Amleth? He lays these traps for others. He does not fall victim to them." Godric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me again, Rosalyn."

"I've told you everything," she said. There were dark hollows under her eyes. She kept flexing the healing fingers that had blown off her left hand. Godric had not found her ring. It was low on the list of things he needed his forensics team to uncover in the rubble.

He sighed. "Start from the beginning. Walk us through what happened. There must be something."

She shook her head helplessly. "Amleth and I pulled up to the house. There wasn't anyone around. We went in. He turned on the electricity and he told me about the design."

"Mid-century Danish death trap?" Eric said contemptuously. Godric growled in agreement. It was madness to have a house so full of wood furniture. One shard to the heart was all it would have taken. Godric could not be moved to feel grateful. The chasm beckoned.

Rosalyn shrugged. "He said it wasn't ready yet."

"It hadn't been modified with even the bare minimum security," Godric said.

"A leak with the contractors?" Pam suggested.

Godric nodded in consideration. "Were there work permits posted on the door? A contractors' board staked in the yard perhaps?"

"No," Rosalyn said.

"How did you access the neighborhood again?"

"A tap card. There's a guard house."

"A fucking tap card?" Eric said. "Was the guard a were?"

Godric had already preempted Eric's thinking. "Human. Our pack scoured the area. It's clear. The other packs know not to get so close to our territory. Did the guard recognize Amleth?"

Rosalyn bit her lip. "I couldn't say. The gate went up and he waved at us. He had a ball game playing on the radio."

"Did you hear the score by any chance?"

"Uh." She closed her eyes to retrace the memory. "Rangers were winning 5-4 at the top of the ninth."

Godric nodded. "Good. So just around 10:45."

"God, how long was yesterday?" she said.

"You said the house smelled like chemicals. Think about the smells carefully." Rosalyn's senses were so new she was proving as nearly unreliable a witness as a human.

"Amleth said it was new paint, carpeting, and upholstery."

"But the house wasn't done yet. In fact, nothing had been done to it. He didn't indicate whether he had been there before?"

"No. He didn't know that the spare bedrooms weren't furnished, if that helps. Maybe he'd only seen pictures online?"

Eric doubted Amleth had been there. "The fresh repairs were likely done by the previous owners to put it on the market."

Pamela spoke up. "Amleth said there was new upholstery? He would have noticed the fabric. What seller re-upholsters furniture to be included in a house sale? That is an expensive and completely stupid waste of money."

Everyone agreed it was odd. Godric did not like it. He wished he had some un-detonated C-4 for Rosalyn to scent. "I don't keep C-4 on the estate premises on the off chance I need to blow something up. Mainly because something might blow up. It reeked of it when we got there but it's hard to say if that's what you smelled."

Eric gnashed his teeth. "How in all Nine fucking Realms did Amleth not detect it? Or at least the silver?"

Rosalyn objected. "I know what silver smells like. It wasn't silver."

"Not silver?" Eric said. "No, only a quarter ton of it blew you up and blew out my brother's fucking brains, Ros."

"Eric," Godric warned. "It wasn't nearly so much silver as that and you know it. They've found some way to mask the scents. We'll wait for the mass spectroscopy reports from forensics. They'll figure out what chemical was used."

"Since when do we wait around for lab rats?" Eric retorted.

Godric's lips pressed into a furious line. "I can't get into Amleth's head. Our blood bond is useless until we can get his brain activity going again."

"If we can," Pam said. Everyone gave her glacial stares. She scoffed. "What? If I pulled a stunt like this, you wouldn't be trying to save me. You'd stake me outright for taking Ros somewhere without permission."

"He did have - " Godric froze. A shadow of cold horror crossed his features. His right eyelid fluttered.

Eric froze too, recognizing Godric's tiniest of tells. "Don't tell me he didn't have permission."

Godric swallowed. His lips had gone dry. "I gave him permission to take Rosalyn for a drive – not a destination."

"You have got to be kidding me," Eric said. "After everything that happened when I was a yearling? Gods above and keep me, Rosalyn," Eric was breathless. "Tell me you did not convince him to take you there without permission."

"No! Jesus, no. I didn't."

"Oh, you're gonna need the old gods to get you out of this one," Eric said, fuming. "What did you do?!"

Rosalyn clutched her hands protectively over her chest. "I didn't do anything!"

Godric licked his lips. His limbs were still frozen. "When did you know you were going somewhere with him, Ros?"

"When we were in the garden, before we got into the sauna. Amleth said there was someplace he wanted to show me."

"He told you he'd bought you a house?" Godric said.

"No."

"You didn't know where you were going and you didn't think to ask? After I made it clear to you how absolutely critical our safety protocols are?" Godric stopped. He leaned back on his hands, dumbfounded. His mind raced. Amleth had sworn. He had sworn to keep her safe and Godric gave him his blood. "He spoke imprecisely to me and you didn't correct him?"

"No?" She grew visibly upset, realizing she had done something very wrong. "I'm sorry."

"When did you know where you were headed?"

"I was overstimulated and I fell into downtime trying to process everything that happened when you two bonded." She looked at Eric, then back to Godric. "In the car, Am said it was a surprise for me, but I was distracted because he was driving like a madman. I was worried about him trashing the car. God, Eric, I'm sorry about the car too. I tried to be careful after we switched but -"

Eric held up a hand. "Wait. He was driving. You switched and you drove?"

"You're seriously making this about the stupid car, Eric? Really?"

Godric gestured for Eric to be silent. Making Rosalyn defensive was not helping. "Why did you start driving?"

"Amleth was all strung out on your blood and driving like a maniac, slamming over speedbumps and being reckless. He said he was a terrible driver and that he wasn't worried about messing up Eric's stupid toy. He was pretty gleeful about it, to be honest. Didn't you see the car got trashed?"

Eric was grossly offended. "What do you take me for? It wasn't a priority in the middle of my family being blown up!"

Godric did not like this at all. "Amleth claimed to be a bad driver?"

"He said he never drives in London."

Eric and Pam looked at each other. "Well he can't fly and he sure as shit doesn't take the Tube, Ros. How the hell do you think he gets around?" Eric said.

"Silence," Godric said. "She does not think like us yet."

"She doesn't think period," Pamela muttered. Eric snapped at her in warning.

Rosalyn had started breathing out of fear. "I thought maybe he had a driver or something. I don't know!"

"When did you switch into the driver's seat and where?" Godric said.

"Probably two or three minutes into the drive."

"Two or three? Which is it?"

She inhaled and focused. "Two minutes, thirty-nine seconds. On the right shoulder of the road. He had me drive in a really big counter-clockwise circle. We chatted."

"What about?"

"My dress. He really liked it."

"And?"

"A little about why he liked it, I guess."

Godric felt the last of his patience begin to fracture. Eric's controlled silence over their bond had slipped. His rage was tipping Godric towards his own. "Rosalyn, gods preserve me, you are vampire. You do not guess. Report exactly what you discussed. Use your powers!"

Rosalyn blinked several times at his outburst and tears began streaming down her face. "Loss. We spoke of loss. Mine and his. We…we were bonding."

Godric shook his head. "I don't care what you think you were doing. Something isn't adding up. Tell me again about the phone ringing."

Rosalyn sniffled. "Amleth was next to the fireplace."

Eric put a piece of paper down and made a rough sketch of the living room. The double-sided fireplace acted as a dividing wall, splitting the space into a den and sitting room. The kitchen sat off the den, making it the deadliest place to have been. "Where," Eric said.

Rosalyn sniffed and smeared her tears with the back of a hand. She took the pencil and marked out the spot at the front left edge of the sitting room side of the fireplace. Amleth had caught the blast from behind on the back right side of his body. She added several squares for chairs and tables, and then drew a rectangle for the couch where she had been next to the curtain glass wall facing the street. Caddy corner to the primary bomb, with the wall of brick between her and the explosion, it had been a relatively good spot, all things considered. The curtain glass had immediately failed behind her and sucked the couch backwards, shielding her. Rosalyn started weeping again.

"Tears are not answers. Stop crying," Godric said with a command. She shivered and her tears ceased flowing. He spun the diagram around. Had Amleth moved a foot to his left and pressed against the fireplace, he would have been entirely shielded from the blast. "Why was he here?"

"He'd just washed his hands."

"Where?"

"In the bathroom." She expanded the drawing to include the hallway. "Here."

"The kitchen was closer."

Rosalyn shrugged. "I don't remember there being soap in the kitchen."

Godric shook his head again. "You didn't see it there or you don't know if there was any?"

"I didn't look."

Eric growled. "Stop fucking embroidering your memories with speculation and interpretation! Just report the facts, woman! The information is right there in your head!"

"You watch your mouth with me!" Rosalyn said.

"Eric is right," Godric said. She was not going to like it if he had to start draining her to read her mind. It was a brutal way to be interrogated and he was exceptionally good at the technique. "What do you remember about the kitchen? What did Amla say about it?"

"He didn't say anything. I just glanced at it. It had a microwave and a fridge – the usual appliances. There isn't really much point to a kitchen for me anymore."

"Except to hide a bomb," Eric grumbled.

Godric looked at the drawing and set it back down. "Amleth comes back from the bathroom and a phone rang. A digital ring, correct?"

"Yes."

"Standard Android ring," Eric clarified. "Techs are still combing for fragments."

"Was Amleth already standing there or he paused there at the sound?"

"He had stopped there before it rang. He was, well, he was teasing me."

"Teasing you how?"

Shame crept into her features. "About forging our bond. He…asked me to come to him."

Godric already knew he had been trying to rile her up. That much was not interesting or news. His progeny were incorrigible and incredibly predictable. "You hear the digital ring. How many times did it pulse?"

"Three times."

"What did Amleth do?"

Rosalyn struggled to say. "He looked surprised? Stunned? I couldn't read his expression. He had been so animated - really hyper - bouncing all over the house. Like I said. He was high."

Godric chewed his cheek in thought. Had he not been flirting with a meal, he would have paid closer attention to the wild fluctuations coming from Amleth's bond. "Or he was nervous."

Eric balked. "Godric, you can't possibly be suggesting that -"

"You will be silent," he said in a deadly hiss. Everyone cowered. "Three rings. Then what?"

She sucked in a shaky breath. "It rang again. Three rings. I asked if he was going to answer it. He said it wasn't his. The explosion happened right when it began to ring again. His silhouette against the flash is the last thing I remember before I came around."

"He did not move?"

Her lip quivered, but his maker's command held her tears at bay. "There wasn't time."

"When it first rang, where did Amleth look?"

Rosalyn bit her lip. "Down and to his right."

"Not over his shoulder? Not towards the bomb?"

Rosalyn shook her head. "Down at the carpet."

In his mind, Godric rewound the memory of them getting undressed and dressed the sauna. "Did he touch his pockets? Motion with his hands?"

"No."

"Did he have his phone on him? Take a moment and think carefully."

"Yes. In his hakama pants, remember?"

"I do remember, but you tell me. When was the last time you saw him with the phone?"

"In the car. He touched it through his pants."

"It rang in the car?"

"No. He just touched it. Out of reflex maybe?"

Godric's face darkened. "Fifteen hundred year old vampires do not have impulsive human ticks, Ros. He was checking that he had it. It was important that he had it. Did you see him turn it back on after the sauna?"

"No."

"But he could he have."

"Um. Maybe?"

Godric bit his tongue, read to boil over. "He was alone in the garage and in the bathroom."

"And to get wood."

"He brought more wood into the house?" Pamela said, horrified.

"He made a fire."

The fire was the least of Godric's concerns. "What pocket did he have his phone in?" He already knew what she was going to say. The coldness in his limbs spread in anticipation.

"Right side. I'm certain of it. He had it in his right pocket before in the garden too. That's where he put his phone after he took pictures of me and that's where he put it back when he got dressed in the sauna."

Godric balked. "He did what? He took pictures of you?"

"Yes, in the garden, as we were leaving. He took a picture of our outfits together for his Instagram and then a few more for himself."

"He posted pictures of you online?" he said in disbelief. The cold horror that had taken up residence in Godric's spine lurched forward into his throat. The pit beneath him stretched its maw and laughed.

"No, no! An abstract image. Nothing to identify me."

Godric felt dizzy. He held out his palm for Eric's phone. "Show me."

"I don't use it, Maker." Eric's eyes grew wide. "You always say it's not secure. Peter advised us..."

"Oh shit," Rosalyn said. Her brow knitted together. "Jesus. Amleth told me not to say anything about it!" She looked at Eric, mouth agape. He passed her his phone. She pulled up Amleth's account on a web browser.

Godric stared at the image for the longest time. "Eric, secure Amleth's body and arrest his children," he said quietly.

Chapter Text

"You can't be serious!" Eric said in outrage.

Godric had fallen silent. He looked up from where he sat on the floor. "Are you defying me? Arrest them all."

"You'd have me arrest a corpse?" Eric said. "You've lost your mind."

Rosalyn was astonished. "What exactly are you accusing Amleth of?"

Godric turned his gaze in her direction. He looked through her to some distant, haunted place. "Amleth hid the existence of this house from me. He hid the purpose of his outing from me. Either his pictures of you were a signal for someone else to detonate the bomb or his phone was used as the detonator itself." His voice dropped to a hollow whisper. "Amleth has been compromised, to what extent, I do not know. Do you need me to spell it out further?"

"Yes, I do, actually," Rosalyn said. "You're jumping to conclusions."

"I am a Sheriff. It is my job to draw conclusions, however unsavory."

"The house was meant as a surprise, Godric. You can't blame Amleth for wanting to surprise me."

Godric stared blankly. "At what point did you stop enjoying your surprise, young one? Was it when a bomb went off in your face? Or was it when you woke in shreds and found your brother dying beside you?"

Rosalyn's mouth hung open without a response. Eric tried to backtrack. "Slow down, Maker. Let's think through this."

"I have thought through this. The Fellowship is too disorganized and unskilled to pull off a hit of this nature. We found the humans sitting around waiting for a vampire to be delivered to them like a gift from the gods. It reeks of vampire involvement."

Eric could not deny that elements of the plot did not add up. "Let's table the matter of who has done this for a minute and consider the mechanics. I'm willing to entertain the idea that Amleth's phone was compromised. But how? He wouldn't risk his safety just for a little fun on the internet."

Godric grimaced. "Amleth constantly risks his safety. He runs his household like a brothel with every dreg from the four corners of the Earth making free with his nest."

"And yet it wasn't the London nest that was targeted, so set your grudge about his security setup aside. Explain to me how he was tracked through his phone. Amleth is the best of us at IT. He knows what he's doing."

"That is precisely my point."

Rosalyn gestured at Eric's phone. It still flashed with Amleth's photograph. Two circling cranes from her dress were nestled atop Amleth's woven pants. "I checked that the picture wasn't geo-tagged. None of the posts are. Amleth and I had a laugh about it, knowing you'd skin him alive if he wasn't being careful."

Godric was on his feet in a flash. "You had a laugh, you say? Are you still laughing? Am I laughing?" Eric shook his head in warning at Rosalyn.

She was not deterred. "Amleth's account was hacked or his phone was traced some other way. He took me to that house to bond with me – a bond which you wanted me to make. You knew that's what we were up to."

"Posting a picture identifying your clothing could have been a signal, you naïve child. Why was he taking photographs of you? He may have sent them to someone else. You didn't see. You hadn't the first clue what was happening around you."

Rosalyn cringed. "You aren't seriously suggesting that he's done this purposefully."

"I'm not suggesting it. I am saying it."

"Where is your head at that you could even consider such a thing?" she said. "He is your son!"

Eric tapped at his phone and flipped it around for Godric. The photo gallery was full of selfies with Rosalyn. "Amla took pictures of her because he loves her, Maker. Just like I do." Eric glanced at Rosalyn and she saw he was serious.

Godric snatched Eric's phone. His accent grew broad along with his rage. "How many times have I warned you that these devices are not safe? How many times? You do not listen to your pater!" Godric hurled the phone across the library. It smashed in a shower of plastic, destroying the oak paneling of the wall.

"Fuck!" Eric said.

Godric got in his face. "Oh no. Were those not backed up? Or do you use a cloud service that could be breached?"

"Exactly, Grandsire," Pamela said, braving his wrath. "It could be that. Or it could be a DNS leak on Amleth's proxy server. A bad update on the OS, even. Cookies sending tracking data – there are a number of possibilities."

"Do not speak to me of hacks and leaks!" Godric seethed. Pamela shrunk back. "Who among you can determine these things? None of you. Having our family's technical expert taken out by technical means screams of a strategic hit where we are now made weak. Were it me, this is exactly what I would do. Amleth learned to do such things from me. He was not tracked. He was the tracker!"

"Amleth didn't do this to himself!" Rosalyn said.

Godric grabbed the diagram off the marble side table and shook the paper at her. "He was in the safest place in the house, Rosalyn. He intentionally positioned himself there."

"He was hurt the worst!"

"He could have moved but he did not. He shouldered a bit of the blast to absolve himself but he misjudged. It shouldn't have killed him, but he'll be truly dead within the week. The humans added more dangerous materials without his knowledge."

Eric kicked a chair in frustration and it blew apart. "Are you insane? Amleth said it wasn't his phone ringing!"

"Why else would he look down at it?"

"He didn't. Ros said he looked at the floor. You are bending the evidence to fit your conclusion. You have zero proof that someone tracked him this way. Zero proof his phone signal was used to detonate the bomb. A burner phone was attached to the explosives for all we know."

Godric grabbed Rosalyn roughly by the scruff and pushed her toward Eric and Pamela. "This is the only evidence I need to know that there are more questions than answers about Amleth's treacherous behavior."

Rosalyn scrunched her shoulders protectively around her neck and held her hands up. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Her fangs dropped so suddenly that she cut her lip. Godric shoved Rosalyn away before he hurt her. Rosalyn scrambled to Eric, who pushed both her and Pamela behind his broad frame. He crouched into a defensive stance.

Godric's fists were balled at his side. "Amleth lied to me. He swore to my face and he was lying. I praised him as my spymaster and I blessed him with my blood, foul beast of a boy!" It was not clear whom Godric was addressing.

Eric tried reasoning with him. "I don't believe for a second that Amleth lied. He may have only meant to drive by the house. 'Show her someplace', that's what he said, right, Ros?"

"Yes," she said from where she was clutching at Eric's back.

"Did you not listen, child? He had the keys with him before he left. Costas is lying too. He knows more."

"We will interrogate him," Eric said. "But Amleth may have simply wanted to present the envelope to Ros. Maybe it was just confirmation that the house was his. Something could have changed as they were driving and he thought it wise to get out of the car."

"He was very attentive to the other cars," Rosalyn offered.

"See, Maker?" Eric said. "You simply don't know. You are always the one warning me against rash actions."

"What I know is that my infant Rosalyn does not get 'high' off my blood and lose her motor skills. That you do not lose your mind and behave erratically when you drink from me."

"Amleth is excitable. You know this. He was deliriously happy last night. That is what my bond with him told me. You gave him every reason to be," Eric said. "It's been a long time coming."

"Yes, it certainly has. He has had years to plan his revenge. He has betrayed me when it would hurt the most."

"Lies, Godric!" Eric said, taking a step forward. "He hasn't a single black thought in his heart for you. I would know."

Godric dropped his head and let out a low, rattling growl. "Yes, you should have known. Why did you not know about the property he purchased?"

Eric was caught short. "I-"

"Exactly." Godric struggled with himself. His mouth trembled. "I gave Amleth the gift of my sacred blood and reminded him of his place in my heart and he has brought destruction into my House." A tortured sound escaped his lips.

Eric fell into a mixture of ancient Norse and Gaelic so rapid and desperate only Godric and the gods could understand his pleas. The pain etched across Godric's features evaporated and the mask of Death settled in its place. He spoke very softly. "You have no authority in my Area, Eric. Do not interfere with my investigation further." He moved, ghostlike, to the security panel at the doorway and rapidly reprogrammed it. He cast a wary look at his family, then turned sharply on his heel.

Within a matter of minutes, Godric swept through the household and brought their digital connectivity to a grinding halt. Isabelle followed him carrying a sacrificial basket into which everyone made offerings. The basket filled with the nest's cellular devices, tablets, and laptops. Even the phones sitting on hard lines were pulled from their sockets. The splashy new hi-def smart television in the media room had no straightforward way to permanently disable its in-built wi-fi. Simply taking the cord was not enough. Godric cracked the huge LED screen over his knee. The wi-fi routers tucked in blind corners of the estate's many rooms were ripped out. Still the Sheriff was not satisfied. Godric marched outside to the corner of the front yard, reached down into the green utility panel hidden in the grass, and gutted the fiber optics cables there with a jerk of his fist. The Area Nine Sheriffdom went full dark.

~OOO~

"Get moving," Godric said to his wife once the disabled technology had been stowed away.

Rosalyn stared at him. "Why in the world do you want me to conduct Costas and Eva's arrest?"

His eye twitched in displeasure. "Eric has made the unfortunate decision to decline my request. As a fellow sheriff, he has that right. You, madame, do not."

"Amleth's children will hurt me if they resist. They have every reason to resist! This is madness. Please, do it yourself."

"Your Sheriff and Maker gave you an order. You're questioning me?" He sucked at his teeth unhappily. "That ends tonight."

Rosalyn furrowed her brow. "It's a death sentence if they harm me," she said in realization. Their pledged marriage gave Godric extraordinary leverage over others.

He shrugged. "Let us hope they do not harm you then."

"You're using our marriage as a weapon. I'm not comfortable with that."

"I did not ask whether you were made comfortable by it. I gave you an order. Do it. Now."

"You don't let other people talk to you this way. Why should I?" Godric was not disposed to argue. He simply commanded her, strangling the frustration in her throat. "This isn't over," she managed to say. He raised an eyebrow and ushered an arm in the direction of the hallway. Rosalyn's feet moved against her will.

Outside Amleth's suite, Rosalyn palmed the security panel. It flashed an error screen. Godric said nothing. He reached past her and coded in. He had reassigned the security privileges on the estate. Not even Godric's progeny could move about with total freedom. Amleth's room now served as a de facto prison cell. Godric nudged Rosalyn inside.

Eva and Costas were bent over their maker's bedside, holding vigil. They were sickly shadows of themselves, drained by grief and their attempts to heal their maker. Amleth's condition remained unchanged. Costas looked past her to Godric in the doorway. "Please, Sheriff. Strike at Thea before it is too late. We need her blood. Amleth won't last until the wedding. His spark is barely clinging to his body."

"I will not jeopardize the best shot we have at capturing her. That is not the plan," Godric said impassively.

"It wasn't the plan for Amleth to be hurt. He wouldn't have been hurt if you hadn't gathered us all here like chicks under your wing."

Godric blinked slowly, calculating. "It seems you no longer value the protection of my House," he observed. The venom rose in his voice. "You will find the world uninhabitable without it."

Rosalyn put a hand on Costas's shoulder before he could shoot off a retort that would seal his fate. He jerked violently away from the offending touch. "Costas," she chided and held out her hand. "This isn't how Amleth wants us to be with each other." Reluctantly, he took it. He was two hundred years her senior and it was two hundred years too many. Godric's command forced her to tread where common sense would have sent her running. Constantine disliked her and she was about to give him a solid reason never to trust her again. She focused on the pleasant shape of his mouth, lest the bottomless black of his eyes unsettle her further. Surely true black eyes were one of the rarest traits on the planet.

Rosalyn poured her desire to help Amleth and his family into her fingers. "We'll move heaven and earth to heal your maker. Right now, we need your help interrogating suspects."

Suspects - as in he and his pale twin. Costas nodded and Eva said something. More half-truths spun from Rosalyn's lips. She despised them. Too much of the vampire world hung by these sticky filaments. She had watched Eric weave silken lies. Amleth was the undisputed king of them. Everything the man said contained some playful mischief. If only he had uttered one single concrete thing the previous night. Then Rosalyn might have had something with which to combat Godric's suspicions. She leaned over the hospital bed and stroked a tendril of Amleth's singed hair. It was the only part of him not bandaged. She murmured a promise to find their attackers.

"Enough," Godric said, cutting her visitation short. "I don't have all night."

Costas and Eva followed them down to the jail obligingly. Rosalyn did not look back to see their faces inside the interrogation room window. She did not want to witness the moment when they realized they had willingly participated in their own arrest. She had not been allowed into the basement before and she saw at least one reason why. The thick insulation on the walls swallowed up the basement's sounds. No one would hear their screams from above. She could not bear to imagine what Godric was going to do.

~OOO~

Rosalyn's knuckles hesitated over Michael's door. She swallowed and knocked. There was a rustling as he checked the peephole and disarmed the door. He lit up upon seeing her. "Oh my god, you're okay!" He threw his arms around her. Rosalyn stiffened. His neck pressed against her cheek. Her tongue darted out involuntarily. Michael moved before she could taste his skin. "Your hand," he said, taking her by the elbow. "Jesus, you were caught in it. What happened?" He ran his hot fingers over hers and her eyes rolled back as she swallowed again.

"I need you to observe protocol, please." He apologized and stepped backwards into the room, putting several yards between himself and her. She folded herself into a barrel chair in the corner, perching in it like a crow. "Everyone is very upset and it's probably not smart of me to come here." He sat opposite her on the bed, leaning back on his arms like a tanned buffet in a rust red shirt. It had definitely not been smart to come. "You look good," she said impulsively.

"Oh. Thanks." He puffed at the compliment.

"I wanted you to know I'm okay. I wasn't badly hurt." Just blown up and regenerated, she wanted to say.

"No one is telling me anything. Just that there was a bombing. "

"Sheriff Amleth was injured, Michael. Very seriously." The press of tears behind her eyes would not release. Godric's command to stop crying had held.

"Does he need me? I can -"

"No. I guess I needed to tell someone who would understand." She needed a human reaction. She needed someone to grieve about it like she was grieving. No one talked about the shock of Amleth's battered body. No one talked about the gore. Eric refused to speak about Amleth at all. Everyone rushed forward with the business end of horror.

"If there's anything I can do, Ros…"

She put on a brave smile. "That's sweet. You were so close to stopping it. I wanted to thank you personally. No one will forget that you tried."

He appeared skeptical. "They won't forget I didn't stop it when I could have."

"That is not your job. It's Godric's." And hers, though she hardly knew which way was up. She had walked right into a death trap. The memory of the bomb flashed a wall of white in her vision, momentarily blinding her.

Michael licked his bottom lip and nodded thoughtfully. "Still. I'm really sorry I didn't tell Godric sooner."

She looked around the bare room. "Hugo was trying to get Sookie to spend time with him. Has she?"

"No, I don't think she has. She prefers vampires. Says you all are 'quiet'."

"Have you hung out with her alone?"

He shook his head. "No way. Eric was clear that dating anyone in the retinue violated our agreement. Amleth too."

That was news to her. "Amleth pulled you aside? What did he say?"

"That Godric could ban pets all he wanted but he couldn't change your territorial nature."

The possibility that she had behaved like a creepy stalker vampire revolted her. "Have I come off as clingy?"

"He said you threatened him."

Rosalyn bit her lips. She hadn't threatened Amleth - exactly. He had provoked her - sort of. Damn Amleth for his ambiguity. "Don't repeat that," she said. "That might get taken the wrong way just now. There are a lot of accusations flying around about who is behind the bombing."

"Oh. Oh, right. Sorry. Besides, he told me that he would clean me up with a mop if I hurt you." Rosalyn laughed and felt a wave of sorrow crash over her amusement. She could practically hear the purr of Amleth's cultured accent and see the suggestive twinkle in his eyes. Only he could make a death threat sound enticing.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked.

She let out a shaky breath. "Not really." Michael shifted on the bed and she caught Godric's scent on him. Specifically, the sweet smell of her maker's excitement faded on day-old clothes. "What else were you doing with Godric last night?"

Pink blossomed in Michael's cheeks. "Ah, yeah. Um, I think he mistook why I came to see him."

"He messed with you?" she said in surprise. "How?"

The color in his cheeks spread. "He, uh. I mean…He thought I wanted to feed him."

"Did you?"

"No," he said, far too defensively. "The bomb went off. It shook us pretty hard here."

Again she saw the flash. Rosalyn steadied herself. "But before the explosion, maybe you decided you wouldn't mind it so much if Godric did feed on you?"

"I mean, what choice did I have?"

It was a tantalizing question. When Godric had fed on Amleth, his domination was savage and absolute. It was not at all how he drank from her. The thought of how he might twist Michael into submission with his unyielding arms made her fangs quiver. The milky white of Godric's preternatural biceps would coil in blue stripes around Michael's slick almond shoulders. Godric's growl would draw Michael's cry. His teeth would find the river beneath the flesh and the boy would squeak and squirm in pleasure as he did with her. He would have no choice but to glory in being overcome.

"No choice at all," she murmured and smiled at Michael. "You'd like it." He turned a rare shade of plum. "No?" she teased.

She wanted to know what he was hiding behind his silly threatened masculinity. The desire to have the whole truth welled up from her chest. "How do you feel about Godric tasting you?" she asked. Her influence glided through the timbre of her voice and flowed from her gaze. She realized this was her glamour. Michael was instantly under her spell.

"He's so powerful, Ros. Having his attention? Capturing his interest? I've never felt so important before. It's the same with you."

"It thrills you."

"Oh, yes," he said, a little breathless.

Rosalyn broke her gaze. She had let herself get dangerously carried away. "That's called being stalked, Michael, and it's not a compliment. It's deadly. The only thing you should want from a vampire is their desire to protect you from themselves."

"Hey, that doesn't sound like you."

He wasn't wrong. Those were Godric's words coming out of her mouth, and in this moment, Godric was absolutely correct. Michael paced toward her. "Don't," she warned.

He stood over her. "What's going on? You didn't just come here to tell me you were alright." His arousal filled the air. He set a hand on her shoulder and leaned down.

"Michael."

"You need to feed. That bottled stuff doesn't cut it, does it? Your body is healing. Look at your poor little paw." He tried to kiss her damaged hand just as Eric had the night before. Eric had taken his ministrations too far and Michael appeared intent on doing the same. He sunk to his knees and offered her his neck. Hunger rose in a throb between her legs and her fangs, and her hand automatically went to cradle his head. Michael urged her closer.

"Stand up slowly and step back. You are making yourself into prey," she said.

"I swear I didn't do anything with Godric. Please don't be angry with me. I'm yours. Drink."

She put a hand on his firm abdomen. It was not clear whether she was pushing him away or holding herself back. She panted and the smell of his hard sex and Godric's faint excitement cloyed at her throat.

"It's okay," he said and nuzzled her. He reached to cup her breast. She made a swift decision and stood, knocking him over.

"I want you to stay here until things calm down. Okay? I'm sorry we keep bumping you around lodgings, but we're very concerned about your safety. I'll have Isabelle bring you fresh clothes."

"Of course. Rosalyn -" He scrambled off the floor.

She went to the door, refusing to meet his desirous gaze. "And if you ever try to provoke me into biting you again, I'll fire you. Understood?"

Michael went sheet white and nodded. "Yes, Madame."

The door would not unlock. "Open this god damn thing," she said in panic, then added, "Please."

Eric was outside Michael's room, leaning against the wall, inspecting his nails. "Not the comfort you were after?"

Rosalyn gave him an icy look. He pushed off the wall and touched the security panel on Michael's door. It rejected him too. He raised an eyebrow and let it sink in. He could not have reached her if she had lost control. Eric took her by the arm and marched her down the hall to the guest suite he had used before Godric had moved him into the master bedroom. He still had access to this room. Inside, she plopped onto the edge of the bed and sighed. "Alright. Let's have the lecture," she said.

He bent down and caged her between two strong arms. "You already know why what you just did was incredibly stupid. You need to feed and fuck something. I'm very glad you didn't."

"I can't have human friends, can I?"

"Not yet and not really ever again. Either way, Michael is not your friend." Eric tipped her chin up. "You have me." He pulled his shirt up and pressed her hand against the flat of his stomach. He forced her to feel his washboard muscles.

"What are you doing?" she said. "Stop it."

"You have a very predictable tell, Ros. You like to touch your prey's stomach while you feed. You always go for the abs when you're about to strike." He pounced over her, pushing her into the mattress.

"I'm not used to having men around me who have abs."

"You thought it so loudly I came running. That could have been a disaster."

"Well, it wasn't."

She was wearing one of Godric's dress shirts and he nosed the crook of her neck where the collar spread over her clavicles. She heard the click of his fangs. "I'm proud of you, lillasyster. What made you stop?"

"I can still smell Amleth's blood burning in my nose." She shoved at him. Her fingers had absentmindedly kept wandering over the planes of Eric's torso. He was clearly enjoying it. His own hands and lips had wandered too. "Funny how you always turn things into your gain," she said miserably.

He sat back on his knees. "This isn't about me."

"It's always about you, Eric. You're all 'you need to feed and fuck, Rosalyn, you have me, touch my rock-hard body'," she said, imitating his deep voice.

"You want to eat your little twink across the hall, be my guest. I'll be the one with a dead employee, which leaves you not only with a boy-band sized mess to clean up but one very pissed off brother. I'm under orders to protect him, no thanks to you."

"Right. Do you ever not think of yourself first?"

"You cannot run to humans when you are in distress. It's that simple. Master your emotions or your instincts will make your decisions for you. If you find you cannot, you turn to Godric or me."

"And what, you'll play the whore? How convenient for you."

His face darkened. "In case you haven't been paying attention, Maker's paranoia is running riot. We need to get him focused on the real attackers. I thought we might put our heads together and figure out a plan."

"That's what you wanted to put together just now in your bedroom? Could have fooled me."

Eric's nostrils flared in anger. He stood back up and studied her, struggling with something. She could feel a ripple of questions rolling off him. They pattered, indecipherable, against her consciousness. "Fine," he said evenly. "Learn as I did."

"Eric, wait," she said when he moved for the door. She spoke too late. The door had already slammed behind him.

~OOO~

Rosalyn found Eric in Godric's private library. He had pulled out a horde of binders from the far side of the shelves where the oldest documents were stored. Disintegrating folios and faded letters cluttered the reading table. "Leave me," he said preemptively.

She sucked at her cheek. "I'm sorry. I spoke unfairly. My head is all over the place and the upset in our bonds is -"

"Intolerable," he finished for her.

She stood awkwardly. "I don't know what you were trying to pull just now. That's the second time in twenty-four hours that you've gotten sexy with me." Last night, Eric had been explaining how silver particulate was caught in her wounds, causing temporary scarring, when the gentle kisses on her knuckles traveled feverishly to her mouth. His sudden lust confused her, as did how casually he dismissed it.

"Spare me your hand-wringing. If you need to have an existential crisis over your baby vampire libido and two second attention span, go do it elsewhere. You needed distracting. I distracted you. Problem solved."

"It's not that simple and you know it."

"I did my duty as your bonded. How did the old songs go? 'I am your shelter, I am your shield', yada yada yada." He scavenged through a pile of scrolls.

"Right. We're only now getting around to acknowledging it. I should have realized sooner how serious a full blood bond is. You called me your 'companion' when I was sick. It's not something vampires say lightly, is it?"

Eric made no reply. He dug around in the parchment, grumbling at its apparent disorganization. Antiquated bills were mixed with deeds and correspondence. Rosalyn took a seat in front of the reading table and folded her hands in her lap. "Godric was on one knee when he asked me to be his companion, Eric. I don't know why you chose to fully bond with me. I don't know what it means to you. I don't know what you expect from me."

"Gods preserve me," he swore with a groan. "Do you have any idea how tiresome you moderns are? Always wanting to talk about your fucking feelings."

She narrowed her eyes at his deflection. "Oh, come on. Vampires love to talk. We do all kinds of things with words. We made our bond in part with words. We can renounce it with words too, right? Is that just legalese talk about claims and rights, or is there actual magic involved that gets broken like a maker's release?"

Eric dropped the box of scrolls he was holding in alarm. A shadow fell across his slanted cheekbones. "You speak of release and renunciation," he said darkly. "Those are eternal words, Rosalyn. They are too big for your newborn mouth."

She studied him and waited. She had his full attention. He licked his lower lip. "Renunciation would break our psychic connection. Forever."

"It can't be unsaid," she confirmed.

"And our tie cannot be remade. Blood siblings can only sense each other when in proximity. They cannot communicate unless they make a temporary bond. You know those bonds are fleeting and weak. I do not want to speak of these things."

"So our bond does mean something to you – enough that you don't even want to contemplate its loss."

Eric glowered at her. "Have you not had enough loss to tide you over?"

"You said you loved me tonight, Blondie."

"What of it?"

"Did you mean it?"

"I said it, no?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Is it really so hard for you to say yes?"

"Yes," he said.

She laughed at him. Eric did not like it one bit. "You're digging for compliments," he said. "I expect such pathetic behavior in other people. Not you, Ros."

She eyed him. "Tell me why someone as unattainable and aloof as you would trouble himself to bond with me."

"You were turned by the most unattainable vampire in all creation. Ask Godric how much trouble you are worth if you're feeling insecure."

"You're not Godric. It's not the same kind of unattainable. He doesn't have a clue how ridiculously gorgeous he is."

Eric scoffed. "The entire ancient Mediterranean world coveted Godric's beauty. He's the textbook definition of a classic male youth. Trust me, he knows."

"I'm sure it caused him no small amount of grief. Godric doesn't enjoy his good looks. You do."

"Of course I enjoy his good looks. He is my maker."

She snorted. "You ass. I'm talking about you. I swear, there is nothing worse than a man who knows he's pretty. Pretty men like you are almost always pigs the second they open their beautiful mouths. They mistake their vanity for personality."

Eric put aside a sheaf of parchment and gave her a bored look. "If this is you trying to apologize for mouthing off to me, you're doing a singularly bad job.

"Knock it off. You only pretend to be a pig and that's why I'm pissed at you. You've been weird and disingenuous with me since the bombing. This isn't you. You are gorgeous and smart and good – when you're not conning everyone into thinking otherwise. You're a freaking unicorn, Eric."

"Ah. Whore, ass, pig, unicorn. Is this a round of animal, vegetable, mineral? I think you're losing, newborn. I am vampire." He dropped his fangs to prove his point.

"Why are you shutting down on me?" she growled in exasperation. "You're not being sincere!"

"You don't need my sincerity. You need my sword, my wealth, and my allies."

"I need your love! I am trying to tell you, Eric, that I love you too. I hate the thought that I could have died without telling you. This is a nightmare. Why won't you just talk to me about it like -"

"Like what, Ros? Like a normal human being?" he supplied. "Because I'm not. And I'm not ruled by sentiment. Now, if you're done making a scene, I've got work to do."

Rosalyn searched his disinterested expression. Whatever turmoil was beneath his mask, he was not sharing it. She realized, finally, that he was afraid. Terribly, crushingly, afraid. He leaned back in his chair, ever the arrogant prince, and kicked his booted feet up on the table. Sighing, she picked up a piece of vellum from the pile before them. "Can I help?"

"Do you read Latin? Attic Greek? No? Then there's your answer." He snatched the sheet back.

"What are you looking for?" she said, staving off the impulse to hurl another epithet at him.

"Anything in Godric's old correspondence to remind him why it is impossible that Amleth orchestrated this disaster."

"I don't believe that Amleth did this."

"I don't need belief. The truth of Amleth's loyalty is written in my bones. I'd sooner suspect myself of involvement."

"Should we suspect you?" she said flippantly. She regretted it instantly. The glacial stare it garnered from Eric froze her veins. "Don't answer that. I'm an idiot." Rosalyn looked away in shame. Eric's loyalty was unimpeachable. He was blood-sworn to his siblings and under a command to care for Rosalyn as Godric would. It was physically impossible for him to cause her harm. A rock dropped in the pit of her stomach. She had not considered the implications of Godric's order. How much of Eric's attention was truly his own? If his tender caresses and lusty outbursts seemed insincere, perhaps it was because they were.

Eric hummed a mocking laugh, reading her thoughts easily. "You had forgotten I must obey, hadn't you?"

"Don't pretend it's all Godric's command. You don't mean that."

"You don't know what I mean, but that's your problem, not mine," he said. "I have zero desire to deal with your newborn bullshit. You've already wasted a quarter hour of my time."

Rosalyn wanted to crumble in on herself. "Don't ever touch me out of obligation."

"That will be rather hard to avoid."

"I'm under command too. I have to seek your care and accept it."

"Daddy does like us to play nice." He kicked his legs off the table. His pupils had contracted into alien pinpoints.

She lifted her chin and met his hard stare. "Then I guess we should assume my reactions are as disingenuous as yours. The difference between us, though, is that I choose not to be cruel and selfish. Love doesn't make a coward of me."

His wolfish grin faded. "Don't you have another dress fitting or something to attend? Kindly fuck off – dearest bonded."

The cold in his voice drew tears to her eyes and they burned as the tears refused to fall.

Chapter Text

The prisoners knew when Stan Davis was coming. The staccatoed tap of his bootheels echoed ominously on the basement concrete as he escorted Rosalyn through the jail. Rosalyn found that she did not care for his smug, tapping strut. "Knock on the window when you're done," he told her, and he opened the interrogation room door.

Costas sat chained to a small steel table, his wrists and feet bound in silver manacles. He watched her take a seat opposite him, beyond the short reach of his restraints. She winced at the sting of silver in the air. "Try wearing them," he snickered. He looked her over. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The Greek vampire had dark smudges ringed beneath his eyes, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Rosalyn suspected he had been cleaned up for her. "I came to see if you needed anything."

"Try again," he said.

"I've been reading up on our laws. You're entitled to visitors. I wanted to visit. No one but the King has been told you're here." King Peter had come earlier that week to analyze the nest's seized electronics. He had found no evidence to implicate Amleth or his children in the bombing. Costas and Eva vehemently denied any wrongdoing. Godric had not budged. He refused to release them.

"You aren't fooling anyone with the good cop routine," Costas said. "Let's skip to the part where you tell me why Godric sent you."

"Godric commanded me to arrest you against my will. I'm sorry about that. But I'm not involved in the investigation. I'm here as your advocate."

He laughed at her. "You read a book and now you want to play lawyer. Cute. You do know we don't 'do' the whole lawyer thing, right?"

"You know I'm an activist committed to social justice – whatever the society. I don't see much justice in the present situation. I'm offering my help."

"Bleeding hearts don't last very long in our world. We eat them."

"You can waste time with empty threats, Costas, or you can play on my sympathies. Your choice. It's not like King Peter popped down to see you." Costas said nothing. She leaned closer. "Oh, come on. I have the ear of the Sheriff. I heard you're a real operator. It must be true if you can handle London by yourself."

"I can't imagine it's running smoothly without me," he said, amused.

"I have no idea. I simply came to check on your well-being."

He held up his shackled wrists. "I have been arrested for the attempted murder of my maker by the head of a bloodline no one knows I am sworn to – a heinous, impossible accusation leveled by a Blood Master who operates with near impunity given his power. I'd say I'm doing great."

Costas had a point. There was virtually no one who could stay Godric's dread hand. "What is Godric doing to you?"

A smile slithered across his features. "Nothing that effects the quality of my blood." A chill settled over Rosalyn's skin. "You do know he's only trying to resuscitate Amleth now so that he can kill him himself, right?"

"I believe in Amleth." She wanted to say more, but they were under surveillance.

"You have no idea what you're marrying, do you?" he said in disdain. "There's still time to back out, you know. It's not truly official until you go through the rites with the priestess."

"We're done here." Rosalyn was up and at the door in a flash. She rapped her knuckles on the reinforced glass.

"Wait." The chain rattled against the table. "See that Amleth is being moved enough."

"I'll check."

Costas swallowed. "Eva?"

Rosalyn shook her head. "He wouldn't let me see her."

Costas nodded and a chunk of his dark brown hair fell forward. "I can sense she's tired. Tell Godric I want to be drained again. Longer this time."

She glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. "He's heard." Stan opened the door and Rosalyn ducked out.

Godric was waiting for her. He wore a fitted cashmere crew-neck whose pristine white seemed unlikely given what he was holding. Two bags of Eva's blood were looped through his fingers. "You'll want to see Amleth next, I suppose," he said.

"Thank you," Rosalyn said, glad she did not have to argue further with him. Getting him to allow her this much had not been easy.

"Constantine upset you," he said as they made their way upstairs. She hummed a noncommittal response. "He is right. You don't know what you're marrying."

"Neither do you. No one ever knows what they are getting into when they marry." Or blood bond, she silently added. "That's not news."

"Telling Constantine the king paid us a visit was news. He'll wonder why you are cut off from updates on the London Sheriffdom as well." Rosalyn swore under her breath. She had tried so hard to let nothing slip. "You see now why I cannot let you interfere with my investigation. He ran circles around you without blinking." Rosalyn tuned him out as he elaborated how her error had jeopardized his process. How every inconsequential detail fed to a detainee had to be tracked. She was more than a little tired of hearing that her compassion was an inconvenience.

~OOO~

Amleth was swaddled in fresh bandages and laid out like a mummy. The bandages had been artfully layered, patterning him in geometric designs. Someone had brushed out his glossy hair.

The candles Eva had placed around the room had been kept burning. The votives cast dancing shadows over his body, creating the illusion of movement where there was none. Rosalyn's heart sunk when she saw him. "He is not getting better," she said.

"No." Godric said. Everyone had hoped that Sookie's blood would do something miraculous to revive him. It had not. "I'll move him into a cell next to his children tonight. Perhaps nesting beside them will rouse his spark."

Two machines cycled nutrition into Amleth's body at intervals. Godric hooked up a bag of Eva's blood inside one pump and he turned it on. The machine depressed the liquid through a tube that disappeared beneath the wrappings on Amleth's chest. "Where does that lead?" Rosalyn asked.

"His heart vein," Godric said quietly. "There is no place more effective to transfuse on us."

She gently set her hand over the place where the blood filled Amleth's heart. "Told you monsters have souls," she said. Godric did not smile. He did not react at all. "Please tell me Costas was wrong. You won't kill Amleth. Not even if he's guilty."

"Do not ask me these questions."

"Godric," she said, frightened.

"I cannot give you answers I do not yet have."

The machine completed its cycle. Godric began manipulating Amleth's long limbs. He slowly massaged and stretched Amleth's prone body to diffuse the magic blood through him. His touch was careful, reverent, familiar. Rosalyn could not bear to watch it, not when she knew that same intimacy might turn deadly. She turned away and occupied herself plucking wilted petals from an arrangement on Amleth's desk. His journal was still there. She opened it toward the end and flipped back several pages. Her eyes raced over the lines.

History repeats itself. Somebody says this.

History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop,

over the sock drawer with its socks, its secret letters.

History is a little man in a brown suit

trying to define a room he is outside of.

I know history. There are many names in history

but none of them are ours.

"You've read this?" She looked up at Godric with alarm. "What does it mean?"

"It means he's been reading bloody Richard Siken again and brooding about the past," he said, his anger coming in a sudden rush.

"This is from the night I screwed up renewing our bond."

"I know."

It certainly read like Amleth had been more than a little upset about their failed bonding – and that the family's secrets pained him. History did not know of Amleth and Godric's tie – a tie that defined so much of Amleth's life. Had not Costas just intimated something similar? He and Eva were in the same position. They shouldered all the responsibilities toward Godric as their lineage head without enjoying the prestige of openly bearing his name.

Rosalyn flipped the page. Amleth had jotted a few more lines. They were interspersed with miscellaneous notes and stray thoughts. She sensed he had omitted parts of the poem. The flat of her hand struck the desk for support when she hit the last line:

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

"This poem," she said, breathless. "Amleth reads this poem and thinks about you. He idolizes you."

"That's one way of reading into it," Godric said, his voice flat.

"You think Amleth was trying to process how he planned to move on? How he was done mourning your bad history? Oh my god, did I tip him over the edge being a jerk?"

Godric left Amleth's side. He slapped the journal shut and shoved it into the desk drawer. "I think it's somebody else's poem. I think his reading choices don't condemn or exonerate him."

Godric returned to the blood pump to change out the emptied bag. Amleth's diary had embarrassed him. "When was the last time you two were bonded?" she asked. Godric did not immediately answer. "I do have a right to know."

"Many centuries ago," he said. "Eric was young and there was war. I needed to be able to communicate with him."

"Did you always make Amleth feel like your bond was merely pragmatic and came after some consideration for Eric?"

"Probably."

"Yes or no?" she said, irritated.

"The past is not so cut and dry, Rosalyn. Yes - it was mostly out of necessity. And no - you are wrong to think that practical deeds were viewed as selfish then. Sacrifice was noble. Amleth's brotherhood with Eric came first."

"Amleth certainly knew you weren't bonding with him out of practicality the night of the bombing. That was love. If you're supposing that it's your bad history motivating him to hurt us, dousing him in your blood beforehand would have given him second thoughts." Godric fell silent and Rosalyn was left resenting his weak excuses. She could only imagine how Amleth might feel after a millennium of Godric's deflections and rejections. Maybe Godric's apologies had come too late. Uncertainty stirred in Rosalyn's breast.

The pump completed its cycle. Godric turned to the second machine and removed a series of small vials from it. The leggy traces left inside the vials perfumed the room with the scent of Sookie's blood. He pocketed them and refilled the machine with fresh ones.

Sookie had not been forthcoming with her donation. Rosalyn had endured the tedium of multiple board games in order to obtain those vials. Over many rounds of Connect Four, she listened as Sookie shared her fears about losing the vampire who had given her a passport, a business license, and a new lease on life. She had reasons for being hesitant to donate blood to Amleth, as 'crazy' as she knew her resistance might make her seem. Sookie worried a lot about how she was perceived. Rosalyn listened to that too, rather than dictating and judging, and soon Sookie was happily sitting opposite Godric with a syringe in her arm.

Isabelle and Stan were baffled. It was not a superpower, Rosalyn had to explain to them. It was common sense. Sookie needed to feel like her opinions were important to others. It might feel slow, but it did not mean that she was less deserving of being heard. And it had shed light on certain troubling aspects of Sookie's preferences.

In another life, Rosalyn might have tried harder to understand the difficult woman. Rosalyn pitied Sookie. Being told you are special and failing to be could not be easy. She called her telepathic gift a curse and in many ways, it was. The scent of Sookie's blood in the air, however, reminded Rosalyn that the fairy princess was an apple of discord rolling through their midst.

Rosalyn eyed Godric's pants pocket. "Can I taste it?"

"No."

"Have you?"

Godric reset the panel over the pump and snapped the lock of the cover with a decisive click. He turned. "No," he said, visibly annoyed.

"Have you asked Sookie's grandfather for help?"

"Prince Niall is her great-grandfather," Godric corrected. "We can't. Amleth is the only one able to contact him."

"Right. And you've either killed or made enemies of everyone who might help," Rosalyn said bitterly. There was no contingency plan for the loss of someone in the family. Godric's fanatical distrust of others was backfiring on him, as were his millennia of war-mongering. "Amleth said there's some sort of fairy porthole near her home. Can't we have Sookie go get him?"

Godric let out a laugh. "Her Fae spark is weak and undeveloped. Even if she could find the door to the Veil and open it, we would be sending her to Faerie. She'll be kidnapped and ransomed to the Prince before she finds him. We won't get her back."

"You mean we won't get her back in time for the wedding. Don't act like you're worried about what would happen to her there." Rosalyn was more than pissed about Godric's revised "plans" for Sookie. Using Sookie to lure Roman to the party was one thing. Keeping her around was another.

"Have you eaten enough tonight?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you're being churlish."

She snorted. "You might as well ask whether I'm on my period." His eyes dropped to her womb in confusion. "It's a manner of speaking, Godric. Jesus Christ. Just because you don't like what I'm saying doesn't give you the right -"

"The right?" He quirked an astonished eyebrow. "You're being downright insubordinate. Do not test my patience or I will teach you exactly what is within my right," he threatened. "One second you're criticizing me for having too many enemies, the next, you're telling me to further offend the ruler of an entire species whose help we need by endangering his heir. Which is it?"

Rosalyn wished she had never floated the suggestion that Niall might want to manufacture a marriage between Sookie and Eric. Godric's reaction was to do what he did best: convert his own fears into his enemies' nightmares. "You don't think parading Sookie in front of a bunch of power-thirsty monarchs at our wedding and calling her your asset endangers her?"

"Eric is the one claiming her, not me," he said.

"No crap," she said. "She will still be your responsibility - and she lives in a state where you're consolidating our family's power by installing Isabelle. How does that keep Sookie safe? How does that make us safer, come to mention it?"

Godric glanced furtively at the shut door. "As your maker, I command you not to share information about Isabelle's loyalties or our plans for Louisiana." Rosalyn shivered, then glared. Godric continued. "Niall installed Eric into Area Five without our knowledge to ensure we would look after her. It was a territory Eric wanted, but he was baited, all the same. By treating Niall's actions as if they were an olive branch rather than an insult, we control his heir and we turn his power play on us into an indebtedness to us."

"Not very useful if you can't even freaking call him."

"Watch your tone with me, Rosalyn," he warned. "If you are angry that Sookie has been exposed to our world, it was Queen Sophie-Anne who exposed her the moment she sent an incompetent underling to steal her from under Eric."

Rosalyn's jaw tightened. "How long before Sookie is literally beneath Eric?"

"Claiming her is just a formality. You know that. Without Amleth, she is in imminent danger. I would claim her myself if I wasn't occupied with you. She will be happier in her hometown in any event."

"Eric is going to take a cut of her business."

"It is only fair. The strain on his resources from hosting her vampire clients will be significant."

"That's not the only thing he'll try to take. He will use her, Godric. She hasn't asked for this."

Godric stopped adjusting the pump dials and gave her his full attention. "Who are you trying to protect? The faeling or your bonded?"

"Both of them. Eric and that woman are a guaranteed disaster together. You were dead-set on keeping her away from us. Now you've drawn her into the heart of our House."

Rosalyn's words gave him pause. Godric studied her for a long moment. "Changing tactics in light of new developments isn't a sign of weakness or uncertainty. It's good leadership." He narrowed his eyes at her. "We do need your approval, Ros. Don't put me into an awkward position. I do not want to command you."

Rosalyn astonished him with what she said next. While Godric had been busy terrifying prisoners in the jail and sneaking off the estate to place calls on Dallas' few remaining payphones, Rosalyn had kept busy in the library. The Vampire Codex had proven a fascinating, if arcane, text. "Commanding me would put you in rather thorny legal terrain, wouldn't it? As Eric's bonded, my right to refuse his claim on Sookie is still trumped by your dominion as our maker. But as consort of the bloodline, I can make things ugly for you."

Godric exhaled. He should never have assumed his second progeny would be easier than his first. His licked his lips, impressed. "If it was known that you had challenged my decision, it would make Sookie's status as an asset uncertain. You would render her vulnerable. Is that your aim?"

"I'm not convinced that Eric claiming Sookie isn't doing exactly what Niall wants."

"I have considered this, my love. There is a longer strategy in play."

"Enlighten me," she said, crossing her arms.

"Niall gave up on this realm when industrialization made it uninhabitable for his kind – steelworks filled the atmosphere with iron. He will almost certainly not have troubled himself with the latest environmental reports." A tiny smile curled at the corner of his mouth. Rosalyn knew that smile. That was pride perched there on his lips. "Global climate change will sink New Orleans and shift the American supernatural capital into Eric's backyard. It's going to happen soon. Sooner than everyone realizes. Eric will be ready."

Rosalyn's jaw dropped. "That's why he lives in that dump. It's a takeover."

Godric tutted her. "It's not a takeover if people come running for help. No one is listening to the warnings. If you want our family to be trusted publicly in a time of crisis and be in a position to ensure peace, you cannot make us weak in the present. Disagreement under our roof would very much signal weakness to others."

"So you'll silence my dissent with a command, all to help enlarge your baby boy's empire."

"I will not silence you. That compromises your authority as consort and undermines our order from within. I think integrating your mission into Eric's plans could achieve wondrous things. Sookie could help further those goals. But the choice is yours."

"Well. Who am I to question good leadership?" Rosalyn straightened the vines of tubing running from Amleth's chest and gave Godric a pointed look. "It brought us here."

~OOO~

Godric stretched his arms over the back of the couch in his underground studio. He waited in his robe and boxer briefs while Eric showered and Rosalyn changed into sleepwear. Eric trotted down the stairs, damp-haired. He paused momentarily when he saw the look on his maker's face. Rosalyn was fussing in the armoire.

"Which one of you would like to tell me why you two are barely speaking?" Godric said. Eric and Rosalyn looked at each other. Rosalyn shrugged casually. She started to reply. "Stop there," Godric said, before the denial could tumble out of her mouth. "Do not lie to me. Start over."

His progeny glanced at each other again. "Don't antagonize him," Eric warned her.

Rosalyn took a seat on the couch. "It's not anything we need help with, Godric." She gave a reassuring smile.

Eric smirked. "She's right. You're hardly one to provide couples' counseling." His own joke amused him. He plopped down on Godric's other side, ready for his night cap. In the lead-up to the wedding, Godric was feeding them both nightly to ensure they were as strong as possible.

Godric curled his fingers behind Eric's ear. Eric leaned into the familiar touch. "I see," Godric said softly. "You and your bonded are not communicating effectively." The smile died on Eric's lips. "So careless, Eric. You still give yourself away in what you choose to mock."

Eric blinked and swallowed as though Godric's disappointment had poisoned the air. "I have not done my best, Godric," he began.

Rosalyn was not about to let Eric fall on his sword. "It's my fault," she offered. "I've been oversharing. Too sentimental. I'm not a very good vampire yet."

Eric was not going to let Rosalyn dig herself into trouble either. "That is not strictly true. She stopped herself from feeding on Michael without assistance. I've never heard of a two-month-old capable of that. I certainly wasn't, though I had no reason to try."

"A deflection, Eric. That does not answer my question," Godric said.

"Eric gave me his AB-negative stash hidden in the garage," Rosalyn said. "It helped keep me satiated and out of trouble while you've been busy with the prisoners and the political fallout."

Godric huffed. "According to you, all is well in paradise. Do not play me for the fool."

Rosalyn put a hand on Godric's knee. "Eric and I just need more time to grow accustomed to each other. We've been thrown together really quickly."

"And that's a dissimulation, love. Not quite an outright lie, but not a truth either. You're getting rather good at that." Godric traced a finger down Rosalyn's arm, then folded his hands in his lap. "Alas, you both refuse to answer me, neither of you want me to interfere, and you're both defending each other, all while being at odds with one another." Godric pressed his lips into a line. "Do you know: neither of you hesitated a minute when I asked whether you might want to bond. Not a minute."

Eric spoke up. "I recall many minutes of being fairly fucking blown away by your audacity."

"I meant once you understood why I was suggesting it," Godric amended. "And you will watch your tongue. Your bad habits set a poor example."

"Yes, Maker," Eric muttered.

"Eric, you have thrown yourself in front of this woman to protect her again and again. You've growled at me. Dropped fang at me. Me. Rosalyn, you stood up in Eric's defense while you were mortal – against me - an ancient maker in a white-hot fury."

"Sounds like you're the common denominator, Godric," Rosalyn said.

A deep furrow formed on Godric's brow. "Are you arguing over me then? This is what I wished to avoid." They both rushed to disagree. It was not him. "Make me understand, children. I cannot have us going into battle in this state." Neither spoke. Their silence irritated him greatly.

"Someone is going to start talking or you'll both go to ground regretting this night." Rosalyn and Eric avoided his disbelieving stare. They said nothing. "Gods above. I am too old for this." He started pacing the common area. "You've stopped sharing blood."

Eric shrugged. "You're feeding us. Why would we take it diluted when we're getting it from the source?"

Godric gestured at the travel coffin on the floor. "You started taking your day rest on the floor. I know a man in the dog house when I see one."

"I didn't tell him to stop nesting with us," Rosalyn said quickly. "I like it. I wake up feeling stronger."

Godric nodded in comprehension. "So Eric is doing this in protest. What did you do, Ros?"

Rosalyn blanched. "I didn't do -"

"Do not lie to me, little vampiress!" he said and she cowered. "A thousand years and two hundred more I have known that man. You anger me now with this business."

"Maker," Eric said calmly. "I know you think that Ros will be the weakest link here and that you'll make her cry and get what you want, but she's a tough little nut. I'd rather you didn't crack her."

Godric sputtered a foul oath in a lost language. He looked between the two of them and began laughing hysterically. When his fit finally subsided, he sat on the coffee table, facing them, still wheezing and grabbing his sides. He gestured for Rosalyn to scooch closer to Eric. "I am reminded of a story."

Eric dropped his head back and closed his eyes. "Gods, let's have it then," he groaned. Rosalyn did not know she ought to prepare herself.

"There was once a boy who was locked in a cage with no food and a dog," Godric began, an unsettling smile on his lips. "Locals came to place bets on who would eat who first."

Rosalyn looked uneasily at Eric and he shook his head. Just listen, he said silently.

Godric continued. "The boy in the cage understood his predicament. People advised him to eat the dog. He had language, you see, but no sharp teeth. The dog, however, he needed only his stomach to know what he must do. He had sharp teeth, but could only bark. The dog barked at everyone who came near the cage to taunt them and their circumstances.

"When no one was listening, the boy told the dog a secret: 'You have a heart,' he said, and he convinced the dog to cuddle with him. As the boy slept, the dog kept watch. Though the dog could not tell the boy a secret, he shared one anyway. He had a coat, and it kept them both warm. In the morning, the boy told the dog to be quiet, and though the dog did not understand the boy's advice, he still listened. He did not bark and people came closer to the cage to tease and to talk. Days passed and neither the boy nor the dog had attacked each other, and the crowd grew bored with the spectacle. The master, confused as to why his survival game had failed and unable to collect more bets, freed the boy and the dog."

Rosalyn blinked in understanding. "The boy was getting food from the spectators who came close and feeding himself and the dog. An unlikely friendship allowed them to survive." She was proud to have figured out the odd riddle.

"What happened to the master," Eric asked, looking at Ros. She really, really needed to learn about Godric's stories.

Godric smiled. "The boy fed him to the dog."

Rosalyn blanched. Eric slowly rolled forward off the couch. He squeezed Rosalyn's shoulder, went to the travel coffin, and chucked the pillow he had been using back on the bed. "What Godric means, lillasyster, is that he's going to lock us up together until we sort ourselves out."

"Wait, what?" she said.

"This would be a prime example of how Godric solves things 'the Godric way'," Eric said.

"With one exception," Godric said. He held out a hand to Rosalyn and he pulled her to her feet. "No one will be eating the master."

"I see." She twined her arms around his neck. "It's fine. I get it. You're unhappy with us. We don't deserve your blood tonight." Eric cleared his throat unnecessarily. "That is the moral of the story, right?" she said.

"No," Godric replied, his eyes round and bright. "There is no master here, for one very simple reason: I was the boy."

~OOO~

Rosalyn was speechless. Godric was not bluffing. He stood at the top of the stairwell. "You have less than an hour before dawn. Use it well." He waited.

Eric nudged her. "I'm the uncommunicative dog in this scenario, poppet. He wants you to ask him for advice."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," she said. "Godric, I am not playing your survival game."

Godric smiled. "Oh yes, you are, young one. You will play it every night of your existence."

"Stop calling me young one. Stop calling me child and little vampiress while you're at it. I hate it."

"Stop swearing like your sailor brother and I'll take it under advisement."

Rosalyn clenched her teeth. "What are we supposed to do while we're locked in here? Kill each other?"

"I'd suggest you try communicating first. But if you cannot, then yes. Pretend to kill Eric as if he were human, then resuscitate him fully. Drain him at the femoral artery. I know you were looking forward to having me teach you myself. Since you've been unhappy with my leadership, I'll forgo supervising this lesson."

"What?" she said in disbelief.

"Tick tock," he replied and the door clicked behind him. The security panel did not flash as usual.

"He did not," she said.

"Oh, yes he most certainly did," Eric said, sounding far too amused by the situation. Godric had actually locked them inside the studio.

Rosalyn sunk back to the couch and pressed her fingers against her eyes. "Vindictive, psychotic bastard..."

"You don't know the half of it. What did you do to challenge his authority? He specifically said 'his leadership'."

She growled in frustration and dropped her head further into her hands. "I can't believe he would be so petty!"

Eric squatted in front of her. "Ros, look at me. He's not being petty. There's a lesson to be learned here. Let's get through this quickly. You have to tell me what you did."

"Why?" she said.

"It's part of the cipher."

"The what?"

"It's how we get the room unlocked and get back into Maker's good graces. Do not test him. He will literally keep this going until we satisfy him. Whatever you said or did, he suspects it is at the root of why we've argued." Rosalyn did not reply. Eric sat down next to her. "Fine. Let's start with why you defended me to him instead."

"What does it matter? You defended me too."

"I know why I did. I can only assume you jumped in front of that proverbial crazy train out of ignorance."

"I'm an adult, Eric. Whatever our problems, they are ours. Godric doesn't get to third wheel us whenever he wants."

Eric laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's exactly what Godric gets to do. He made us, baby girl."

"We made us, too."

Eric hummed suggestively. "Feeling possessive, are we?"

She ignored him. "Why did you stick up for me?"

"Possessiveness, of course. Godric was setting you up to incriminate yourself. No one sabotages my bonded if I can help it, not even my maker."

Rosalyn was not sure what to make of that. "He was serious about that story being true, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

Rosalyn's fangs dropped. "Tell me."

Eric shook his head. "I am not at liberty to say."

"He's commanded you."

"Yes."

Rosalyn sucked at her fangs. "Thinking about him cold and vulnerable makes me…feel very much like a vampire."

"There is always a grain of truth in the creeptastic Parables of Godric. But it's a parable, all the same. Forget about what is and isn't true. It's a puzzle he's constructed to mirror our 'predicament,' as he so sweetly put it. We have to solve it." Eric chuckled to himself. "I'm almost charmed to be caught in one of Godric's games again. Then again, it was never my idea of fun."

"You know, most women who are days out from their wedding would be hanging out of the back of a stupid rental limo with their drunk girlfriends or waiting for a gaggle of male strippers to arrive. Having my husband lock me up with a Viking and a Rubix's cube of a riddle is not what I expected."

A wrinkle of concern crossed Eric's brow. "Pamela said you did not want a bachelorette party - that you did not value these new nuptial traditions."

Rosalyn balked. "Since when are you my wedding coordinator?"

"It is my job to know these things. If Pamela has disappointed you, I'll -"

Rosalyn shook her head. "It's nothing like that. My friends are all from work. I've been too buried in my passion projects and my ideals to invest in close friendships." She shrugged. "Nobody gives a damn that I left Portland."

He hummed. "They'll care when they hear why."

"Exactly. It won't be because they missed me, Mr. 'America's Sexiest Vampire'. It will be because they'll want to mingle with my new family. Who needs friends like that?" she said.

Eric was not inclined to disagree. "I knew you had Google stalked me."

"So how does this work? Do I take a big sip from you and we're in the free and clear, or what?"

He shook his head and chuckled again at Godric's cunning. The man was devious. "I can walk you through what we're supposed to do easily enough." He stood with a grin. "You're going to get your bachelorette party after all." With a single jerk, he pulled his black tank top off.

"Eric," she warned. There was a blur of movement and a pair of sweatpants hit her face. She threw them aside. "I swear to god, I may actually kill you."

"Oh, come on," he drawled, shaking his hips. The package in his silk boxers waggled obscenely. "Your lady friends would be green with envy. All this is yours." He turned slowly beneath the recessed lighting, hands held open inviting inspection.

Rosalyn crossed her arms and sunk into the couch cushions. "Maybe your ego is big enough to break us out of this room."

He slid beside her in a flash and slung an arm over her shoulders. "Want to know what else is super-sized?" he whispered in her ear. Rosalyn whipped around to strike him. He caught her wrist easily. "And we've arrived at the problem between us." She glared at him. "You want me, Ros. Let's get it out of the way, so we can move on."

"There is nothing attractive about your behavior towards me. That you don't get it, that you think my brain and my panties are going to spontaneously combust in the glorious presence of your -"

Eric crushed his mouth to hers in a heated kiss and wrenched backwards just as quickly. "Ow!" he yelped. Blood dripped from his lip.

"How dare you assault me!" Rosalyn was on her feet, fangs bloodied.

"Never! Ros…" He lapped at his lip, his face screwed up in confusion.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"I apologize. I made a mistake." He was genuinely rattled. He searched the floor, as if he might find the answer there. "There is something I am missing. I'm locked down here too. Godric has a lesson for both of us."

"I should freaking hope so! Shame on him for raising such a barbarian. Shame on you! That was inexcusable."

"Forgive me, Ros. I've dishonored myself." He bowed his head. "I was trying to point out that there is sexual tension between us. I think it is partly what Godric wants us to resolve."

"So you thought, what, you'd act on it non-consensually? Check the year on your calendar, asshole!"

He swallowed. "I was only trying to show you that I am open to your interest. To give you permission to - "

"That's not how it works! I give my own permission!" She growled in outrage. She perched on the armrest at the far end of the couch and waited.

"Do you think you are the first of Godric's lovers to look at me? We have shared many, many women. And vice versa. He invariably took whomever he wanted from me." Seeing she was neither impressed nor pleased, he added, "But none of them were you. And we have evolved."

"Have you? Just because I acknowledged our bond doesn't mean you're entitled to booty calls with me."

Eric paused in thought. "Your attraction to me angers you. You lash out at me. You believe it is a betrayal, even though I am Godric's and I am yours and you are ours. We are one in the blood."

"You are phenomenally off track, Eric. You love the attention. You expect everyone's instant adoration, and you lord over people's weakness for your looks as a way to control them. It's arrogant and unappealing, and it pisses you off that I'm not so easily controlled."

His face darkened. "You want your attraction to me to be special. To mean something more than every forgettable creature that has crossed my path. But it isn't special. Sex is just animal lust. It does not set you apart -"

Rosalyn cut him off before he could explain himself. "What a surprise, Eric. You're a cold, dead bastard and your attentions are meaningless. And you wonder why I don't want to be treated like one of your fangbangers."

"You dare call my treatment of you meaningless?" A growl tore from his chest and he shot to his feet. He stalked toward her. "What more could you possibly want from me, woman? I have given you my wealth. I have given you my blood oath. I have given you nothing short of my soul and my life in giving you my maker. There is nothing left of me to take and yet still you want more. You contemptuous creature! My brother's life sits on a knife's edge because of you!"

Eric towered over her and she shrunk in horror. "You blame me for Amleth?" she gasped.

"Do you not see what you have done to us? Our bonds are what motivate us. Our motivations are how we are exploited. You, Rosalyn, are one gaping fucking motivation," he said, growling in her face. "We have been under near constant attack since you came barreling into our lives."

"Barreling?" she said. "You dragged me into this!"

"To save Godric's life!" He prowled the room like a caged beast. "Stop advertising our weaknesses. Stop exposing our vulnerabilities. Stop picking and prying at centuries of our kinship for your own dreamy satisfaction."

"I am not trying to undermine you," she cried.

"But you are!" he said. "Everything is supposed to drip with fucking meaning in your ridiculous head and yet you ignore the significance of what we do for you. You want me to go around like a raw nerve, made weak as I was when you nearly fucking denatured in my arms. You and your precious sentiment. You are going to get us all killed!"

Rosalyn burst into tears. "Love isn't weakness!" she said and curled into a ball.

Eric filled the air with a foul smattering of Norse and he angrily set upon the kitchenette to fix himself a drink. His anger shook through his bond with Rosalyn. She wiped at her tears and steadied herself. "The secrecy in this family is toxic," she said. "Godric taught you to be this way and he knows he was wrong. One of the last things Amleth told me was how you didn't understand that. Everyone in this House shares everything with each other except their emotions. Love isn't leverage, Eric."

Eric swirled the dregs of the drink in his glass, his artic eyes hidden behind gold lashes. "It is fear," he said, almost inaudibly. He looked up at his sister, his bonded, the mistress of his bloodline. His features were stone. "It is the specter of loss and I hate it more than anything."

"The loving? Or the fear of losing?" she asked.

"Is there a difference?" he said.

She blinked in comprehension and softened. Eric Northman did not admit fear. His hardness was a measure of how deeply he cared. His actions were the wellspring of his intent, truer than any of the thousands of fading human words he knew for love. "Come here, you donkey," she said. He did not move.

Rosalyn went to him and crawled into his lap. He begrudgingly allowed her to pull him into a hug. Slowly, he relaxed beneath her touch. Their skin thrilled in recognition as it always did. The pull of their shared magic was irresistible, drawn together even more tightly by the pull of their bond. She pressed her forehead against his. "You don't have to say it for me. I'm sorry."

He buried his face in her neck, eyes closed. His lips moved silently against her throat. "I do love you," he mouthed. "I don't like saying it."

She tightened her arms around him. "You're going through hell right now. But you're not alone. I'm here."

"First Maker nearly left. Then you tried to die on me twice. And Amleth. I cannot process it, Ros. It cannot exist in my world. If Amla is lost…"

"He is not lost," she said. "We aren't going to let that happen. Don't lose hope." Rosalyn stroked the back of his head and he exhaled. "Please don't think I take for granted what you've shared with me. I appreciate you, Eric, immensely. I need more time to honor all that you've given me."

"You'll need an eternity," he whispered.

She laughed quietly. "You've got it."

"Ros?" he said, very serious. He pulled away to see her clearly. "You swore an eternity to me when you became my bonded companion."

"I did."

"In a century, three days before your Awakening Night, I want you to ask me about our bond again. Ask me what it means, what to expect. Ask me if I really care."

A ball of anxiety formed in her stomach. "Why?"

"In a hundred years, you will have your first taste of eternity. We will celebrate our Bonding Night and laugh about the adventures we have shared. Then I will tell you to ask me again what it is to be bonded to me in another century. And so it will go on. Only then will you start to appreciate what forever means when I say it."

Rosalyn bit her lips and nodded.

"You are the blood of my blood. My lillasyster. My confidante. My co-conspirator. My someday lover. We will be all things to each other in time. But there is one thing you will always be all of the time. You are mine, Rosalyn." She felt the blood tingle cold in her face, shocked by the gravity in his deep voice. He ran a thumb over her cheek. "Do not ever let me hear you speak of breaking our oath again."

He stared at her forcefully. The power in his aura flared around them. Release. Renunciation. They were not words spoken in his presence. "I understand," she said. She hugged him again, whispering apologies in his ear and running her hands through his hair.

He started chuckling. "This is the part of the puzzle where the boy cuddled with the dog."

She looked at Eric in surprise, perched as she was in his embrace. "Your secret. When we argued, I more or less told you that 'you had a heart'."

He smirked. "And I just kept barking."

Rosalyn sat back. A chill ran down her spine. "Godric knows."

"He knows." The amusement faded from Eric's eyes. "He knows what is troubling us. He knows how we should fix it. He is ten steps ahead of us. He always knows."

A protracted silence drew out between them. "How does he do it?" she finally asked.

"If I had learned everything he had to teach me, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He exhaled through his teeth. "It's unsettling shit like this that makes it difficult when he's actually wrong once or twice in a millennium."

She dropped her voice into the barest whisper. "He's something more than vampire, isn't he." The chill creeped over her again and she saw the hairs raise on Eric's arms. Their eyes met and slowly, very slowly, Eric gave a slight shrug. Neither dared say more.

Well," she said. "We had better not disappoint him."

Eric looped his arms easily around her waist. "A human can't survive losing over forty percent of their blood volume without massive intervention. This is what I am supposed to teach you." He quickly gave her the formula for estimating blood volume and explained how to adjust it for various body types. "You asked whether you needed to take a 'sip' of me for Godric to free us. As I was trying to point out to you before you very rudely assumed I was talking about my cock, I am a very big boy - almost 99kg of pure Scandinavian muscle. Simulating hypovolemic shock in me – the point of no return - is more than a 'sip'."

"Okay? I've had that much from you before."

"Not when you weren't sick and bleeding out." Eric gave her a long, appraising look. "Drinking that much from each other? Near the femoral artery? It will be intense. It will be intimate. You think we are in each other's heads now? Just wait."

Rosalyn let out a very choice word.

Eric laughed. "I almost had it right. I was just being lazy and skipping to the answer. The boy and the dog in our parable communicate differently. One's verbal, the other is physical."

She filled in the blanks. "I blab about love, you bark about sex, neither of us realizing we're arguing about the intimacy of our bond." She swore again. "The solution is both verbal and physical too."

"Just like our bond, poppet."

"We're bound with words and deeds." She bit back an embarrassed smile.

Eric licked his lower lip. "At this point in the game, if you shy at the obvious physical half of the solution and want to talk about it endlessly, we will just continue arguing and find ourselves at an impasse - yet again."

Rosalyn nodded in understanding. "And if you hadn't just fessed up to actually giving a damn, we would keep butting heads. Godric wasn't giving us an option. We have to do both."

"Godric always get what he wants, in the end. It's an elegant puzzle, is it not?"

"It's completely obnoxious." Rosalyn slid off his lap. She fell quiet for a long moment. "Us reconfirming our bond - it's not just what Godric wants, is it. You want it too."

"Yes," he said simply.

"Will he pitch a fit if we don't follow his directions to the letter?"

"Probably."

"Well, here's to living dangerously." Rosalyn had done the math. There was almost six and a half liters of blood in the Viking. There was no way she could manage to half drain him without barfing. She was not going to risk Eric's wrath by spilling him all over the area rug. She pulled him off the couch and he followed her to the bed, his curiosity peaked.

Eric spread his long frame on the mattress, head propped on a bent arm. Rosalyn sat by his feet, legs tucked beneath her. He was an intimidating prospect. She slid beside him and ran a hand over his chest, the dusting of gold hair sprinkled there soft. His nipples tightened under her touch. She stretched out and crooked a leg in invitation.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "You naughty kitten," he said. He reached down and stroked the downy arch of her thigh. "Am I to believe you want me to revisit my spot?"

"Consider it a show of my faith and appreciation. Explain what you're doing and I'll take back what you've had afterwards," she said.

Eric did not need encouragement. He perched over her instantly, eyes roving over her nightgown in consideration. He leaned down and scented her deeply. He let his fangs drop and he dragged them over her skin, from her collarbone down her chest. "Behave yourself," she said unsteadily, gooseflesh rising from his prickling touch.

He put his mouth to her ear. "I am behaving – like your bonded," he said. He held her gaze and held her wrists and dropped back down to her chest. Teeth sunk into her collar. Her back arched at the sudden pleasure of his bite. He withdrew his fangs slowly, letting the punctures heal without drinking a drop. "You are mine," he said in a low voice. He rucked her nightgown roughly over her hip. "There will be a night, my bonded, when there won't be an inch of your body that doesn't know the thrill of my claim on you." The deep timbre of his voice went straight between her legs and Rosalyn clenched in anticipation. Eric hummed a laugh, knowing precisely what effect he had on her.

"But not tonight. Not for many nights to come. Until then, you'll remember this, and you won't doubt what I am to you and what you are to me." He bit her again, slowly, undrinking, making her watch his teeth penetrate her. "Harder," she said breathlessly, so quiet Eric was almost unsure he had heard correctly. He obliged, sinking his large fangs into her several more times, claiming her in growling, decadent nips that left her gasping.

He traveled further south between her thighs and ghosted a kiss over her femoral artery. "I haven't done this in a very long time."

"It wasn't but two months ago that - "

"A vampire," he clarified. He settled in, his broad shoulders spreading her wide.

"Sookie," she blurted out. Eric's head popped up. "You wanted to know what I did to challenge Godric's authority. I told him I don't approve of your claiming Sookie. I know I can make trouble as consort."

"Now why would you object to my having the little fairy princess? Are you jealous?"

"Ugh, Eric. Sit up. I really can't talk seriously while you're inches from my crotch."

"So conservative for a hippy." He nibbled her inner thigh and she squeaked. "I'm busy here. We can chat later."

Her head fell back into the pillow. "She'll hurt you, Eric. She'll get under your skin and make a mess of things. If you and I have this much trouble communicating, she will be a nightmare for you."

"Okay," he chirped.

"Okay?" she said, confused.

He shrugged. "Advise me how to proceed and I'll heed your preferences. But later, baby girl. You're interrupting."

Rosalyn was amazed. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He smiled beatifically. "I'm incredibly easy to work with when you meet me halfway," he said. Then he licked a stripe clear up to the crease of her groin.

Rosalyn grabbed a hank of his hair. "Eric!"

"Mmm, that's more like it." He gazed up at her. "I cannot help that this is an erogenous zone. It is no doubt why you're aching to feed here." He traced the line of the artery beneath the skin and pressed a thumb into it. "Are you paying attention to me or are you thinking about how Godric is going to rail you after watching you finally bite his little doppelganger hunk between the legs?"

She made a garbled groan of a sound. In a flash, Eric rolled her over and settled a lightning-quick smack on her ass. He was back where he had been in a blink. "Pay attention. It is much easier to accidentally kill someone here. You're liable to get carried away. Do not bite into this artery."

Her face flushed cold in shock and she started laughing. "How do you know that's what Godric wants to do?"

"You seem surprised that I know about your maker," he said. "He is wicked."

"He is delicious," she countered.

"He's a pervert."

"He's creative," she murmured. Eric's teeth were poised to strike.

"He's undoubtedly burning with jealousy and lust knowing I'm about to do this…"

Chapter Text

Rosalyn's moans filled the studio. She kept a hand buried in Eric's hair as he fed from her thigh in short, hard pulls. Every punctuated suck drew hot shocks of pleasure from her fangs down to her groin. He sucked. He waited briefly to let the aftershock ricochet through her. Then he sucked again, relentless, never once breaking eye contact with her. He wanted her to watch him. She had not quite bargained how much her vampiric senses were thrilled to watch him back.

"Humans wriggle," he said, pausing to explain. He held her abdomen with the flat of his hand. "Especially if you're making this pleasurable for them. Always immobilize your meal." He delved back to business with a growl and she could not help the sounds she let out then. The heel of his palm pressed above her pubis, creating a suggestive pressure inches from where she burned to be touched. It did not matter that he was trying to keep things above board. She squirmed, breasts tingling and needing friction between her legs. His free hand curled beneath her knee, holding her steady. She could not help but imagine what other things that hand might do if she allowed it. She closed her eyes and let the waves of sensation spiral through her.

He paused again. "What is the count?"

"Six," she murmured. Six, quarter-pint sips. Just over 700mL, she calculated. Almost a quarter of her blood volume. Eric was distracting her with stupid math problems while her traitorous body was teetering one aggressive slurp away from bliss. Her thoughts must have been loud because he chuckled and spanked her haunch. "Open your eyes, kitten. I'm not done with you yet."

The next time he asked for the count, she had lost track. Her fists were twisted in the sheets. He continued until the light in the room tilted at bleary angles in her vision and her bonds felt cold and very far away. Eric appeared at her side and nuzzled her cheek. "Let the experience flow over you. There's nothing to be frightened of. Simply understand what the blood loss feels like. If you were a human, you'd be dead."

If she were human, she would have found being drained terrifying. As it was, she wanted to eat Eric alive. The only thing stopping her was how odd her senses felt. "The room is off-kilter. I can't smell anything," she said.

"I'm right here." He found her hand among the tangled sheets and clasped it. "For the record, I let you do far worse to me when you were sick."

"I know. I'm sorry." He shushed her and pulled her to his bare chest, spooning her. "I'd like my blood back," she said, feeling disembodied and safe in his arms.

"You'll get it. Let our magicks mingle for a moment." His voice was unusually rich. It was the sound of half of her power inside him. Eric had warned her that such a major exchange was tantamount to a little making. It would strengthen them both. He was soaring, and soon she would be too.

He took his time savoring their closeness. A strong arm tucked around her chest and he held her close with a hand at the base of her throat. His breath tickled her shoulder. The predator in him still wanted to bite. The man in him pressed insistently into her backside. And something utterly charming made Eric repeatedly run the soft tops of his feet against the arches of her soles.

"You feel incredible inside me," he purred, nibbling her earlobe. "Don't ever forget that we trust each other like this. We've held each other's life force inside our bodies."

"I guess sex seems pretty impersonal after this."

Eric hummed in agreement. "This is only the beginning, my bonded." He kissed her apprehensively, searching her face for another rejection. When none followed, he bit into his wrist. Drinking from himself, he leaned down to share.

"Eric," she chastised. He smiled crookedly, his mouth full. Rolling her eyes, she let him feed her. The immortal elixir instantly re-energized her and her hunger short-circuited the last of her resistance. She growled and put heat into the kiss, digging her nails into his pecs. Rosalyn pushed him roughly onto his back. "Give me more," she demanded.

He grinned in delight. "Come get it."

She grabbed him by the wrists and hopped over him. She tried to latch onto his throat. He freed a hand easily and stopped her. "Nope. I am your elder."

She sat back, nails raking pink lines down his sides. "You let me before."

"Consider those newborn freebies. It's high time you play by the rules."

"When have 'the rules' ever concerned Eric Northman?"

His nostrils flared in amusement. "When they work in my favor," he said and winked. "You can't deny I've been extremely well-behaved. Be a good girl and return the gesture."

"I couldn't feel less like a 'good girl' if I tried." Eric's denial woke a possessiveness in her she had not previously known. The need to remind him who she was to him boiled in her veins, instinctive and urgent.

Eric jumped when fangs hit his abdomen. Rosalyn's hazel eyes flicked up at him, shining. "You are mine," she said, before biting him again. He gasped and grabbed the back of her head. He had wanted this all along. It was this same urge that had been driving him mad for weeks.

"That's my girl," he said, sucking in a breath. She dug her teeth in harder and he grunted. She claimed him again and again, in clean bites as he had done to her. She worked her way up his chest. Only when she reached his neck did she pause. He was panting beneath her. "You may," he relented, exposing the column of his throat. "Since you asked nicely. Go ahead."

She let the tips of her teeth dance over his jugular. Her tongue sneaked out and tasted his skin. "You're going to regret your 'rules' in the long nights to come. You'll think of how good it felt when my power filled you. You'll remember how you taught me to bite you so well, and you'll yearn for the delicious sting of my claim in your throat."

Eric winced in need, his canines dropped in full. "Gods, baby. Please…" he said. Rosalyn was fairly certain Eric had never once said 'please' to her in all the time she had known him. Still, she was resolved to let him wait. She slid down his prone body, avoiding the angry strain in his boxers, and spread his long legs wide. He audibly swallowed.

He reached down blindly and hiked the hem of silk covering his right thigh. He crooked his leg to give her a better view. She stroked the exposed place with her thumb. Twin scars raised like braille on his otherwise perfect skin. She laughed in surprise and looked up. She would recognize the shape of the fangs that had made the silvery signature anywhere. "You have a calling card."

Eric nodded, proud and shy. He drew a jagged line from his knee to the inside of his groin, tracing out an invisible knife wound. "The wound that should have killed me. Godric left his maker's mark here so that I would never forget who saved me."

It was the only scar on his body. Vampires were all enhanced when they were turned, but none so much as Godric's progeny. All of their blemishes and imperfections had been erased. Rosalyn wondered if, in time, she would forget the fleshly history of childhood falls and careless scrapes that had once patterned her skin. She glanced down her breast. "I don't have one."

Eric's lips quirked. "He made you immaculate. It was you who saved him."

She traced a circle over his knee with a finger. "You were a warrior. You must have been covered in battle scars."

He chuckled. "Among other things. I was a mess. I had tattoos that Goði removed too."

"What? Why?" she asked, feeling violated on his behalf.

"Like I said, the first thing he ever said to me was that I looked like shit. He didn't like them. They weren't well done and they didn't honor me. More importantly, they would have easily identified me, as his do. Such obvious marks are a liability in the long run. You can't lie about who you are when you need to."

Rosalyn bit back an embarrassed smile. "That's why you were so passionate about Godric's mark on me. 'A supreme mark of honor' you called it. We are the only two people on earth who bear it. Well...were."

"You carry that mark on your soul, my beautiful girl. It will always be there. Whole nations and languages and gods will be born and die and still you will be Godric's. The only downside to Maker's method is that we really, really do not blend in with mortals - or other vampires, for that matter."

"Godric made you blend in only to make you stand out." She shook her head in amusement. "He's rather vain about his creations, isn't he?"

Eric stroked the hair away from her face. "He has every reason to be."

Rosalyn dropped to her elbows for a closer look. Eric's mark was the most private thing he had ever shared with her. It was beautiful. She leaned in to press her lips over the spot, grateful that Godric had once done the same to save the Viking. Just as she was about to settle a kiss there, a firm hand jerked her back. "No, Rosalyn," he said sharply. "Absolutely never, ever there. That is not yours."

"I wasn't going to bite!"

"I didn't know whether you knew better." Eric exhaled his panic. "I should have explained. I don't even let Pamela touch me there."

She nodded. "I'm sorry. You wanted to show me. So I know. I meant no disrespect."

He caught her by the arm as she tried to move away. "It's okay. Show me that I can trust you. Finish."

She kissed the place reverently, no more than a brush of her lips. "Thank you for sharing," she whispered into his skin.

He shifted his weight and offered the artery on the other thigh. "Now. That spot is all yours." She nestled in, ready for things to get very real, very quick. She could not control her empathic touch. In all likelihood, she was going to wreck Eric. He appeared quite enthusiastic about the prospect. "No thinking about Michael or Godric," he warned her. "Don't you dare let your mind wander. Eyes on me, kitten."

Chapter Text

Godric stood in front of the jail cell and contemplated the fate of the prisoner inside. Steve Newlin was an unremarkable dweeb. The so-called pastor was a man whose prominence was due almost entirely to his father's untimely death. Like so many trembling, ineffectual sons, Newlin lived in a bright shadow whose light he mistook as his own. His hate was middling and uncreative, and spiraled from crippling daddy issues.

"Come on, Godric. Murder me," Newlin taunted. "You know you want to, you blood-sucking leech. It's in your nature."

"Ah, yes. My 'God-given nature'," Godric replied. "If you do not like the creatures your god has seen fit to create, take it up with Him, not me. Of course, I am older than your god. I'm rather certain He had no hand in my making."

"Because you're the spawn of Satan," Newlin sneered.

"Please. Lucifer VI is even younger. Isn't that right, Ronwe?" Godric said, speaking to the prisoner down the hallway.

"Go fuck yourself!" Ronwe shouted back through the padded walls.

Godric shrugged. "Demons are a misunderstood people, Steve. Rude. But misunderstood. They certainly have nothing to do with your sins. You got here all on your own."

Newlin tried to goad Godric into killing him again – right before he broke down and began begging for mercy. Godric remained impassive, hands jammed deep in his pockets. He rocked slightly on his heels, thinking. There was a moment when he would have liked nothing more than to summarily execute Newlin. That moment had passed. A hasty death – at the hands of an infamous and ancient vampire no less - would give Steve Newlin's life undeserved meaning.

Amleth's body lay not ten yards away inside his children's cell. With every bleating beep and hiss of Amleth's blood pump, Godric's desire for a more sinister punishment grew. Godric preferred slow death. Death that came at an un-appointed hour, right when everything seemed safe and quiet. He made his decision. For the time being, he would condemn Newlin to his true calling - staggering mediocrity. Let a federal jail supply his meals and swab his filthy toilet. Godric could wait. He had all the time in the world.

He took Newlin to an interrogation room and went to work glamouring him. Extremism could not be stamped out, but it could be made tepid. And tepid extremism was a contradiction in terms. Newlin would bore his followers to tears. They would scatter. If all went smoothly, Newlin and his accomplices would be convicted by the human authorities on weapons charges and conspiracy to murder and they would sit, incarcerated, forgotten by everyone but Godric.

Godric spent nearly an hour guiding Newlin through his paces – leaving the shape of his hatred but removing the sting. Anything more radical would be obvious. Newlin would no longer inspire murder with his rhetoric. He would not remember his time incarcerated at the estate. He would be a watered-down version of himself, neither a turncoat traitor to his followers nor their martyr. Godric left him with a single fuzzy memory of their encounter.

"Vampires are not your enemies," Godric told him. "There is something far worse that lurks in the shadows and in the cracks of time. You met this creature once."

"I did?" Newlin said, his voice thick with stupor.

"You forsook the peace and love your god offers and sought out this creature's darkness. Now you belong to him. When next you cross paths, you will wish for something as simple as death. Death is an ending, Steve. The nightmare that's coming for you has no end."

A trickling pattered on the linoleum floor beneath the chair where Newlin sat.

~OOO~

Godric worked on Sarah Newlin, Hugo, and the bomb maker in a similar fashion, plucking out their desire for vengeance but allowing their guilt to fester. By the end of his efforts, he was bleeding from his nose. Isabelle brought him a handkerchief and a drink with awed fear in her eyes. She had never seen a vampire produce such a powerful glamour. Godric took the handkerchief. He crooked an unimpressed eyebrow at the drink. Isabelle was pushing her luck.

The human prisoners were loaded into the back of an unmarked van and carted off to the local police. All save one. Godric let Eric deal with Jason Stackhouse. The fool had no part in the bombing. He had simply followed his prick into serious trouble.

Given a moment to himself, Godric had nothing to distract him from the wild, throbbing tangle of hungers inundating his bonds. His progeny were running riot through him. He watched through the observation window as Eric taunted and threatened Jason. The fear and testosterone and threat of violence in the air made matters a hundred times worse.

Eric took his time toying with the man like a cat would a mouse. When he finally turned Jason loose to find his sister upstairs, Eric stuck his head in the room attached to the interrogation cell. Godric was sitting in the dark.

Eric had not showered. The scent of Rosalyn's innocent caresses and not so innocent bites wreathed his body and filled the little room. Godric appreciated his child's candor. Nothing was hidden between them. Eric had spilled on himself untouched and smelled of frustrated desire. "Satisfied?" Eric said, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

"Are you?" Godric shot back, knowing full well he was not.

The Viking's nostrils flared in amusement. "I'll survive."

"Perhaps you're losing your touch," Godric said drily.

"You're just jealous," Eric retorted.

"That's one word for it." Godric said. If he did not distract himself soon, he was going to collapse in a fit of frenzied desperation and start abusing himself like the pathetic, horny boy he was. Eric's state was not much better, but Godric was getting slammed by his bonds from two sides.

Eric tried not to laugh. "You do this to yourself, you know." He followed his maker down the hallway into the CCTV control room. Godric shut the door. No one could hear them there.

"What lesson have you learned?" Godric asked quietly. The glow of the control board cast an eerie pallor over his features.

Eric bowed his head. After a long moment, he answered. "Rosalyn is my equal. You've made sure of it." His voice held a note of awe.

"Yes," Godric said.

"I didn't expect..." He cleared his throat. "I thought loving her would be simple, like with you."

"Isn't it?"

"Spare me," Eric scoffed. "You love like god loves – totally and without mercy. All I had to do was surrender to your inevitability. It's simple with you."

"But not her?" he pressed.

"Her love is an offering. It is freely given but just as easily lost. My instrumental bullshit isn't going to cut it."

Godric's low laughter filled the dark room. "No, it isn't. It's time to evolve."

"Ros accused me of being 'emotionally unavailable' and she is right."

"I taught you to be that way. I apologize. It is no way to live."

Eric dropped his head further. "I am the one who owes you an apology. I dishonor us both when I dishonor Ros. I refused to reciprocate with her as an equal and I treated her like a conquest instead of my bonded."

"And yet here you are, the one who was conquered." Godric smirked at his child, proud that Rosalyn had stopped fighting her innate possessiveness and claimed Eric properly. Proud, too, that Eric had been brave enough to submit to her. Even so, her scent and mark all over his eldest child made Godric wildly possessive. "Come here."

Eric stepped closer. "Have I taken you for granted? Have I not shown you that I care?" His voice was clouded with concern.

Godric's eyes combed over Eric's body in consideration. A smile played on his mouth. He reached up and pressed a thumb into the dimple of his chin. "I am, as you say, inevitable. You are mine, Northman. Until the end of time."

Eric stared at him with colorless eyes. "Prove it."

Eric's arrogance never failed to bring a flush of pride into his maker's cheeks. Before Eric could goad him further, Godric had twisted his fingers in Eric's hair and buried his fangs in his neck. When Godric was done, he stepped back, crimson-lipped and feral-eyed. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," Eric said with a ferocious grin.

Godric ran a tongue over his bottom lip. "Does Rosalyn understand why getting you two reconciled was necessary?"

"Not really. She thinks you were being pissy about being challenged. She doesn't know you well enough to know that you don't throw your maker's weight around out of selfishness. She doesn't even realize what a huge sacrifice you made in not participating last night."

Godric frowned. "What do you think?"

Eric gave Godric a patronizing look. "I think you're going to hear all about it."

"Will I ever get laid again?" he said.

Eric erupted in laughter and pulled Godric into a bear hug. Godric extricated himself from the Viking's crushing hold and he pushed him toward the door. "Go on. Go hunt." Eric did not need to be told twice. "And bathe, you degenerate," he called after him. Eric's chuckling echoed down the hallway.

~OOO~

Godric had his underlings gathered around his desk. Architectural renderings of Sophie-Anne's estate were unfurled over the burled walnut surface. They were reviewing the battle plan. Pamela was mid-sentence, discussing exit doors and evacuation routes, when Godric's head snapped up. Rosalyn had materialized at the far end of the great hall. "Everyone out. Immediately," he ordered sharply.

The staff moved quickly, cutting their eyes at Rosalyn and exchanging knowing looks. She was holding a whip. They assumed she had come to receive a punishment. At the doorway, she growled at their snickering. The smiles ceased, and she was given the nods and dips she was due.

Godric watched Rosalyn prowl the length of the court toward him, eyes fierce and skin radiant from the infusion of Eric's ancient strength. It took all his control to restrain his fangs and cock. She was a glorious terror.

She held the whip at arm's length and opened her palm. The whip hit the desk with a thwack. "Where should we take this, Sheriff?" she said. He searched her face, trying to decide how poorly she would react if he begged her to destroy him right there on the Louisiana Kingdom's blueprints. Did she even know how many times he could come before his body ran out of seed?

"May I?" he asked instead, before touching the weapon. He tucked the whip in his back pocket, adjusted himself in his pants, and took her by the hand. Sookie and her barbell-brained brother greeted them as they charged by the game room.

"Oh, hey!" Michael said, leaping off the couch.

"Not a good time," Godric told him.

"Maybe later?" he called expectantly after them. Neither vampire answered.

In the garage, Godric gestured to the pegboard with the fleet's car keys. Ros grabbed a set. She evidently wanted something fast.

"Is there any place I should avoid for security's sake?" she asked when she pulled beyond the estate gates.

He shook his head. "Dallas is ours."

"Good." She peeled out of the suffocating confines of north Dallas's posh neighborhoods and opened the vehicle up on the interstate. They drove in silence. The city was a blur of brake lights and neon towers. Tungsten streetlamps splashed across the dashboard in yellowed heartbeats. Rosalyn sped along fearlessly. Her preternatural senses understood what would happen in the choreography of cars and overpass lanes before it occurred. Godric's eyes flicked between mirrors, ever watchful. He did not demand to know where he was being taken.

When she pulled up to the nature preserve south of the city, she turned to him. "Get us in." He disabled the entry gate easily and she parked in front of the Audubon building as if it were regular park hours. She got out and peered up at the modern visitor's center. It perched like a wooden wave over the rewilded marsh. Nearby, the river that split the city gurgled and rushed among the reeds. Night things rustled. The marsh was alive and listening.

Godric watched her, rapt with fascination. The building was a green design, constructed to mitigate its impact on the environment. The preserve had been a toxic dump when he had arrived. He had helped finance this project and the land had bloomed once more under his stewardship. It was one of the first things he had done as Sheriff. He wondered if she knew. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's an improvement," she said.

She held out a hand. He took it and she led him to the nature trail. Their footsteps were silent on the wooden boards. Even so, the insects and night birds still fell quiet when they passed. "They know we're predators," she observed.

"They stop singing for humans too. They don't know it was humans that destroyed their land."

"They can't tell one parasite from another."

Godric's throat tightened. He expected such slurs from Steve Newlin. Not from her. "I had hoped we had more to offer than that." She did not answer. The look of grim determination set across her features did not bode well for him.

They meandered the boardwalk. Rosalyn stopped at a viewpoint and leaned against the railing. The city sounds were at a muted distance here. A breeze lifted her hair from her neck. Rich, earthy smells surrounded them. Her beauty was almost painful in its perfection. His summer child. She carried all the elemental heat and boundless efflorescence of her turning, as Eric bore the driving ice and unfailing evergreen. At the moment, their scents were deeply entangled. The best of trackers would struggle to discern who was who. She had no idea this was but one of the many reasons he had wanted her to accept Eric's blood.

"Our interdependence is so much more complicated than I thought," she finally said.

Godric smiled, wondering if she had gleaned his thoughts. "Whose?"

"Our family. Vampires. Humans. All of the living beings." The water beneath the walkway splashed with a 'ploop' sound. "The frogs and the fish," she added.

"I did warn you that harmony would be a monumental task."

She leaned over the railing on her forearms. He joined her to look out at the watery landscape. "Everyone has different needs," she continued. "Different desires. It's chaos that seems to be the rule."

"We can only be responsible for ourselves in the clamor and the madness."

"But we effect so much more, don't we? Nothing exists for itself, Godric. The river beneath us doesn't thirst for its own water."

Godric reached out to her, kissed her cheek, and inhaled her hair. "What are you trying to tell me, my love?"

"You're like the river – so many creatures are suspended in your power. We can't survive without you. You steer the family through the ages. I can only trust the depth of knowledge and experience you draw on when you make your decisions."

"But?" he said, waiting for her condemnation.

"You're a force of nature. You don't realize how much you are capable of destroying when you're upset."

Godric turned back to look at the expansiveness of the marsh. He sighed. "You are very angry with me."

"Yes. Last night you pushed when you could have asked."

"I did ask, Rosalyn. Several times."

"Putting me in time-out with Eric was a manipulation worthy of Roman. You didn't have to lift a finger to achieve the outcome you wanted."

The accusation stung. It hewed uncomfortably close to the truth, while still missing it entirely. "I only wanted a swift resolution. I don't want to make your choices for you. Do you understand how easily my desires can accidentally become yours when I want something?"

"Yeah, Eric mentioned you drove him crazy with that early on – and that you freaked out and gave him bonding sickness when he called you on it."

"I was a young maker, frightened of abusing my command. Now I'm an old maker with the same old fears. I am listening."

"Your heavy-handedness has only taught me one thing. I've learned that you act swiftly and decisively as a maker, as a Sheriff, and as the patriarch. You're completely unafraid of whatever consequences your actions might incur. Always better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?" He started to answer. "Shut up," she told him. "You said you would honor my request for submission when I made it."

"I have," he said. "I am."

She got in his face. "The equality you promised me doesn't exist if you force me to take extreme measures just to get a word in edgewise. You control the hand that holds the whip. You make up the rules of engagement. You over-determine everything. I don't want the mirage of equality. I want the real god damn thing. Our marriage is completely secondary to our relationship as maker and progeny."

"My love, I tried to warn you about this -"

"Do you not see the irony of your own behavior? How dare you presume to teach me about communicating with a partner when you understand precious little about it yourself."

"I -" he began.

"How dare you push me towards an intimacy with Eric when you're shutting down on me in the same stupid way as him!"

Godric chewed his lip to hide a smile. "Don't pretend that you don't revel in the intimacies of your bond with Eric now that you understand it. It is a sacred gift – one you both needed to fully accept. We must be absolutely unified tomorrow night."

Rosalyn crossed her arms. "Eric is a piece of work."

"I know," he said with all the pride and weariness of twelve centuries as his maker. He caged Rosalyn between his arms until the railing pressed against her back. He closed in on her throat, inhaling deeply. "As are you. There is nothing quite like how Eric leaves a woman all spun up and ready. To have you this way - "

"Godric!"

"Do you have any idea how delicious you smell?" He mouthed hungry kisses along her jawline. "And you're all mine. I can't for the life of me understand why you resist him."

"Because you're the shape of my heart," she whispered and he went weak in the knees. His fingers found their way beneath the hem of her shirt. Rosalyn pushed at his chest. "Godric, cut it out."

"Oh, no, my love. I don't think I shall. I'm burning for you," he breathed into the shell of her ear.

"Stop." She pulled his hands from beneath her blouse. "I brought you here to talk."

Godric leveled his hungry gaze at her. "I will literally do or say anything right now to get you to take care of me. You're not going to get honesty from me while you're holding my body hostage."

"You're as bad as Eric wanting to skip to the resolution without working through the lesson. Listen to me." She wrestled again with his roving hands. They had slipped down the curves of her buttocks. "Listen! What was necessary with Eric is beyond excessive to me. You can't be the maker you were to him with me."

"You left your whip in the car," he said, grinding his hips into her.

"Do you actually think I'd drag you out to a swamp to beat you?"

He gave her a heated look. "Do what you must, lover. There is nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done."

She shook her head in frustration. "Just what every young bride wants to hear." She shoved at him.

"Rosalyn," he growled, stepping back. "You're screaming lust at me through our bond and your temper is goading my bloodlust beyond what I can control. I have limits."

"And I have mine! I'm telling you your behavior is a deal breaker!"

Godric spun on his heel and paced down the boardwalk. He was gone for several minutes before returning to where she waited. He was only slightly calmed. "I am not afraid to learn from you," he told her, his neutral tone forced. "Everything you do for me is miraculous and a first. Teach me. I won't resist you as you resist me. You are angry with how I've tried to guide you."

"You are as fascinated by my anger as you are with my love. This is a game to you," she said.

He took her by the arms. She was dangerously close to making the same accusation she had as before, when he was equally on edge. "I do not, for one moment, view you or our relationship as an experiment. There is everything to lose in failing you." He furrowed his brow. "Tell me."

She ground her jaw. "No, you tell me. Are you happy with what you accomplished by locking me up?"

"You obviously want me to say no."

"I hate games. I hate your tests. All these manipulative tactics are domineering, patriarchal bullshit and you've shown me, Godric, you've told me, that you want to rise above it. The crises we're facing are not valid excuses for falling back on nasty old habits. Survival at any cost isn't living."

Godric huffed a laugh. "Which is precisely what I have taught Eric in your lesson. I said as much to him not an hour ago."

"Right. Don't think it was lost on me that you locked me up with him in part to have me straighten him out on your behalf. You fix your own mistakes with him, Godric. I didn't join this family to help you all become better versions of yourselves. That's a waste of my talent and energy."

Godric narrowed his eyes. "That is certainly not what I mean when I call you my muse. You might inspire me, Ros, but it is my responsibility to guide us and everyone's duty to do their own heavy lifting."

"Good. Because I'm not your fucking cleaning lady. It's not my job to fix the broken men in this House."

Godric stared at her. "You grow bold, little vampiress, to hurl such coarse language at me. And you presume far, far too much."

"I only presume what you promised."

"Equality in our marriage? Yes. But not in my House. Not as your Maker. That's not how it works – for you or anyone else."

Rosalyn guffawed. "So why even pretend to call me your 'consort'? It's a meaningless title."

Her words wounded him. "Meaningless? I allow your criticism. Encourage it, even. I listen to your perspective and I take it very seriously. You help me think critically and evaluate our challenges with fresh eyes. But I cannot fix the problems in my House overnight. They have been centuries in the making, as all vampire problems are. You've shown nothing but contempt for my choices as pater when I need your support more than ever. Help me, Ros. Please don't tear me down."

Rosalyn bristled, her nostrils flaring in disgust. "You've hidden Amleth like a bastard love child. I can't begin to describe how much that upsets me. What other secrets are you keeping? Do you have other progeny?"

"I most certainly do not!" he said in outrage. The suggestion that he had unacknowledged offspring running around was grossly offensive. "You know precious little of how and why I have protected Amleth as I have. I've had about enough of this from you. You think I don't know that it is only a matter of time before you chastise me about Pamela?"

"As a matter of fact -"

Godric leaned inches from her face, fangs dropped. "Do not, for one moment, mistake my complicity for docility." Rosalyn's jaw dropped. He prowled in a circle around her. "You do not appreciate my patience and benevolence as a maker. How unusual it is for our kind. How exceptional my rule as pater is among the ancients. You would have me confront all our problems head-on, like a blunt hammer. If it is direct confrontation you want, I may indeed oblige you, young one. But do not expect me to entertain your complaints when you do not like the results."

Rosalyn whipped around, instinctively protecting her exposed back. "This doesn't work for me, Godric."

"Which part?" he snapped.

"Any of it," she said in a bare whisper.

Godric's fears dropped into his stomach like a stone. "The door does not revolve. You made your choice."

"As did you. This marriage is all in or nothing at all. You're hiding behind your maker's authority. It takes two seconds to explain why I need to do something instead of commanding it. Two seconds to treat me like a wife instead of a child."

"And it takes but a half second of questioning our hierarchy in front of the wrong people to reduce us to ash!" Godric's voice boomed over the marsh. A flock of slumbering birds burst from the trees and took to the sky. "Gods as my witnesses, do you not recognize the precariousness of our circumstances? I don't care that you question my leadership - I expect it of you. But I do care as your maker that you don't understand the dangers of going about it recklessly! I have barely used my command with you. I've used it to keep you from eating people alive and to stop you from sharing dangerous information that could get us executed."

"What about forcing me to arrest Costas and Eva?"

"I commanded you to arrest Amleth's brood knowing full well you would do it gently and try to make amends with them afterwards."

"To what end?" she said.

"To give you plausible deniability! So you could blame me and salvage a healthy alliance with them in the off chance this disaster isn't actually their doing. I will always take the fall for my children. You think I am angry with Pamela for helping trick me into the fundraiser? I am angry that my idiot son did not know how to best protect her. She is young. She is my baby grandchild. And you are but an infant in our years." Rosalyn's lips trembled as she realized his strategy. Godric searched her face. "There aren't enough hours in the night to teach you everything you need to know in these circumstances. Delegating crucial milestones to your brothers – letting them teach you to feed, to fight – I will never recover those lost opportunities, Ros. But I am willing to sacrifice anything in the service of your well-being. I am – how do you say it? – smeared poorly."

"What?" Rosalyn said in a laugh.

"Buttered wrong?" he tried.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes. "You're spread thin."

"Yes. Beyond spread thin. I never would have turned you so quickly if I thought it would precipitate a war. Between the Council's threat, the fragility of the Reveal, the Fae prince's trickery, the damnable human zealots…"

"And Amleth. Don't lie. You're beside yourself with grief. You don't even trust the people closest to you."

Godric squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I am doing my best even as I know it is not good enough. You are right to think I am falling back on the old ways. Do you blame me? I must rely upon what I know works. I do not know how to advance our agenda for peace and equality and strategize in a multi-creature war all at once."

"You ordered me to tell you how."

"And do you have an answer for me yet?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't. I don't know how. I don't think it's possible."

He exhaled and took her by the shoulders. "This is your first true lesson from your maker. Remember this night, always. You must be willing to admit when you don't have the answer. Never be afraid of your own ignorance. The first step to defeating it is recognizing it." He gave a weak laugh. "It took Eric five years to learn this one." Rosalyn started laughing. "You aren't giving me much credit, Ros. I understand a great deal about communication. I know too that I'm not very good at it. I told you this when we met."

She bit her lip in a suppressed smile. "You said you wouldn't have 'turned me so quickly'." She looked at him questioningly.

"Yes," he said, a smile threading across his face.

"When did you know?" she asked, astonished.

He looked up at her through dark, curled lashes. "You were mine the moment you reached out and touched me. You had no idea I had been watching you that night." Rosalyn took his hand and caressed it with a thumb. She was speechless. He stroked her face with his knuckles. "Fighting a maker's call is a fool's errand. I was in denial. I didn't think it possible that I wanted another progeny."

"Maybe you've got it backwards, Maker."

"Do I?" he said, amused.

"You were mine the second I chose you as my sire."

At that, his smile grew. She reached up and kissed him deeply. He led her down the boardwalk to a pavilion set over the water. He pulled Rosalyn to sit next to him on a bench. "Choose me again," he asked. He pressed her hand to his heart. "You leap so fearlessly into the unknown. That quality will take you through the millennia, just like Eric. It is the mark of a great immortal. Tell me you will marry me tomorrow. We will swear it in the blood before a thousand witnesses and be one, always."

She furrowed her brow and took a long moment before responding. "You told me you wanted to experience an intimacy with me that you had never allowed yourself."

He smiled fondly at her. "Yes, my love."

"How many times have you been married?"

The blood drained cold from Godric's face. "That has nothing to do with us."

"How many times," she ground out.

"Four. But -"

"It wasn't the same as this?" she guessed.

Panic rose in his chest. He licked his lips. "We do not need to dig up the past to move forward together."

"That's where I disagree." Rosalyn rose and stood over him. "That is exactly what needs to happen. Look me in the eye and tell me that everything that has gone wrong since you marked me in the desert isn't about all the crap you've tried to bury in time and leave unaddressed."

"Ros -" he said, trying to explain.

"You marked me and didn't even tell me your name, Godric. You turned me without telling me that it was your dirty past putting my life in danger. I'd ask what is going to catch up with us next, but you don't share yourself with anyone. You don't even let your loved ones bear your name." Godric did not have a clever response. "That's what I thought. Your previous marriages. Out with it."

He averted his gaze. He considered refusing. Shame burned bitter in the back of his throat. "The villain who turned me tried to loan me out on what would ultimately be very short marriage contracts in exchange for wealth and power. They never got their money's worth."

"Who were they?" she demanded.

"Gods, Rosalyn," he gasped. "Please do not make me breathe their names." He dropped his head into his hands. "They are all dead. Two were murdered before the ink on the contracts was dry. One I had assassinated to save myself. The other died by my hands outright for the things I was subjected to. In time, I destroyed their entire bloodlines in retribution." He flicked his gaze up at her and dared her to push him further. "No one lives that benefited from my slavery. No one. Do not give life to their memory."

He could feel Rosalyn's suspicions – wondering how it was he became the bloodline's patriarch. Her questions were not unfounded. He was relieved when she did not demand to know more. "What about your vampire lovers?" she said. "Is someone going to try to stake me for taking your sexy self off the market?"

"You don't have to worry about that," he scoffed.

"Really," she said, unconvinced.

He chewed at his lip. "I am not an attractive prospect for others."

Rosalyn stared at him for a long moment. "You've made certain of that, haven't you? You keep everyone at arm's length. You taught Eric to do the same. You tried to scare me off, too."

He looked up from his knees where he sat. "And now you regret not taking my advice to leave and never look back. It is too late. You are mine. This will go far better if you do not struggle against me. As your maker, I will not let you go until you are fully fledged." He dropped his head again, struggling against tears. A child's rejection was every maker's worst nightmare.

She uncrossed her arms and knelt. "I accepted your offer to be turned because I want to have a hundred thousand adventures at your side - as your partner, as your wife. If you weren't vampire, I still would have chosen you. It will always be you, Godric."

He cradled her face in his hands, mouth trembling. "You do not want to leave me, then?"

"No, silly."

He exhaled in relief. "I am sorry I cannot give you a romantic wedding like one of your human fairy tales. You deserve so much more than the political theatre we must put on."

"So do you," she said sadly. "You've had nothing but horrid political marriages. I'm not going to be complicit and inflict another one on you."

He dropped his hands and sat back. "What are you saying?"

She met his gaze. "I won't marry you like this."

Horror overtook him. "Rosalyn. No. Please." His voice cracked.

She stood, keeping his hands in hers. "'The House of Godric requests the pleasure of your company in celebrating a wedding'. The invitations don't specify what the guests should expect. I choose you, Godric. I always will. Marry me in a sacred grove. Marry me with our family around us. Marry me in sight of the old gods. But, please. Don't marry me in battle, where blood will be shed. I won't give you something ugly. Not when you finally deserve peace and beauty. Not when our love sets joy loose in the world."

A tear slipped down Godric's cheek. He spoke in a whisper. "There is a place. An ancient place. We will take our blood vows there."

"And tomorrow?" she pressed.

Determination spread across his features. "You will be my shield maiden. My warrior wife. And we will right the wrongs of the past - together." Rosalyn licked the tear staining Godric's cheek. He pulled her tightly into his arms and purred. "Come make love to me under the open sky."

They retraced the winding boardwalk back to the parking lot and he led her to higher ground. In a grassy field, surrounded by the rewilded wilderness, they lay together as man and wife. Naked and worshipful, they celebrated their love, and the crickets resumed their song.

Chapter Text

Rosalyn had never put much stock in puffy chiffon dresses, sparkling diamonds, and hazy monochrome studio photography. Those cookie-cutter fantasies did not fit with the reality of her life. Nor did she believe such things would ultimately fulfill her. A wedding was only one fleeting day in her life. She wanted a long, happy marriage. Godric had certainly offered her time enough for that. Whatever she had supposed her wedding day might be like, it was certainly not this.

For starters, it was night and she was dead. Supernatural laws far more immutable than any license issued by the Dallas County Clerk's office already bound her to her husband. And there was the little matter of the abductions set to take place among her wedding guests.

Still, Rosalyn was surprised when she woke and found a vacant pillow beside her. She turned and found Eric's spot empty too. She was never left to wake by herself. It was jarring as a newborn. Her vampire senses instinctively shot outwards, assessing whether there was danger. Godric had left the estate. Feeling out through her bonds, she calculated the considerable distance between them. He felt her anxious probing and he sent her a warm reassuring sensation. Not too far, he promised. Certain that her body was tolerating the separation, she rolled out of bed.

An envelope lay on the dinette table, weighted down on one corner. She smiled at the paperweight Godric had chosen – his half of an amethyst geode. She opened the envelope slowly, savoring the sight of her name in Godric's script. Inside was a piece of cream cardstock folded in half. Godric had sketched a charming Gothic portrait of them on the front in black pen. She laughed. The cartoon couple embraced under a crescent moon. Two bats – she suspected they were Eric and Pam – held a banner with the date below the couple's feet. She opened the card, careful not to touch the ink.

To my beloved bride Rosalyn,

I am yours - always, forever. Let every moment that is and shall be, be ours. From the moment I saw you, I knew I would need an eternity to love you. Thank you for giving me that chance. Tonight is but one adventure in a hundred thousand. May there be one hundred million more.

Immortally yours, with love and devotion,
Your husband,

Goðrík

The night had barely begun and already she was reaching for a handkerchief. She sent Godric her happiness and his bond fizzed in pleasure. Soon, he told her. Then he fell silent as his focus shifted back toward his business afield. Rosalyn slipped the card into its envelope and set it on top of the wardrobe for safekeeping. She would have the portrait framed at the first opportunity.

She ate a hearty breakfast, steeling herself against the certain chaos that awaited her this evening. When she finally surfaced on the first floor, the estate was bursting with activity. Isabelle was issuing orders to several guards carrying heavy-duty equipment trunks. She paused and turned to Rosalyn. "Good evening, Madame. The Sheriff has gone ahead to New Orleans but will be back within the hour. Eric has requested that you meet him in the gym." Isabelle hesitated, then reached into her pocket. "Forgive me."

"What is it?" Rosalyn asked, stepping aside to allow a porter to pass.

"There is nothing funny about the situation with Amleth. It is imperative I bring this to your attention." Isabelle grimaced and pulled out a garish gold wallet. It was the gag gift the family tricked each other into taking by sneaking it into each other's possessions.

"No way, Isabelle!" Rosalyn said, backing away. "I know the rules for that stupid thing. You can't be directly given it."

Isabelle shook her head. "You need to see it. Eva told me where to find it tonight. She remembered that Amleth had intended to slip it to you at the wedding. There is a note for you inside."

"Did you read it?"

"Not yet. Shall I look at it for you?"

Rosalyn snagged the gaudy wallet. She pulled out a paper that had been folded many times to fit inside. Her eyes raced over the lines. Amleth's handwriting was beautiful. His words were even more touching.

"Should we enter it into evidence?" Isabelle asked, her voice apprehensive.

Rosalyn pressed her lips in a hard line. She sniffed and blinked. "No." She handed the wallet and the letter full of adoring sentiments back to Isabelle. "It's more proof that Amleth is innocent. He obviously intended to be around for the wedding. Only he would put my freaking wedding card in a gag gift."

'Idiot!' she wanted to say to him. She wanted to scream at the sky for her mischievous brother, or sob into his hair. Anything to restore him. Anything for answers as to why this had happened. Her sense of powerlessness turned to anger. Eric poked her through their bond in concern. Bloodlust was no way to start the night.

Isabelle studied the newborn's turbulent expression. "I'll show the letter to the Sheriff when he returns."

"There's still no change in Amleth's status?" Rosalyn asked.

Isabelle's gaze dropped to the floor. "I asked Godric to move him into a separate cell."

Rosalyn furrowed her brow. "I know keeping him with his progeny hasn't helped heal him, but surely -"

"Out of consideration for Costas and Eva, Madame. So they are not forced to sit…in the mess…when…" Isabelle's voice trailed off.

Rosalyn's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, holy god. You think he'll pass that soon?"

"It is hard to say for certain. Tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps. Soon. He has…started to smell."

Rosalyn's anger hardened into resolve. "We will get Thea's blood to him in time. I swear it."

A wan smile passed over Isabelle's features. "You sound very much like your brother. Go on, Madame. Eric is waiting for you. I have our departure preparations under control."

~OOO~

The bleachers in the gym were folded flat against the wall. Most of the arena's high-watt lights had been left off. Eric waited at the edge of the sparring mat, hands folded behind his back. He was clad head to toe in black. "You look formidable tonight," Rosalyn said as she came in.

His brow was furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

He looked over her suspiciously. "The underlings have been gossiping. Did Godric-" He stopped himself. He wanted to know what happened after she had appeared in court with a whip. He was worried. "You know I can't interfere when it's maker's business. Was he very hard on you?"

Rosalyn smiled blandly. Eric had no idea. He whistled, genuinely impressed. "Alrighty, then. Well. I'm glad he made up for whatever shit he doled out. It was quite the treat to wake up next to you smelling so delicious and well-loved." He gave her a smoldering look.

"Eric," she said in exasperation. "What have you got there?" She gestured to the blanketed shape behind him.

Eric stepped aside, revealing a blocky rectangle covered in a tablecloth. "Apologies for the wrapping job. Not my strong suit."

"For me?" Rosalyn drew a measured breath. "It doesn't smell like sex toys or bricks of cash. I'm at a loss. What is it, Blondie?"

Eric smirked. "You think so little of your bonded." He gestured at the item on display for dramatic effect, then pulled the fabric away with a magician's flourish. The tablecloth swirled at his feet and he took a bow. A rack with two swords stood at his side.

"Samurai swords?" She came nearer to inspect them.

"Katanas," he clarified. "Like me, you were born in war. It is only fitting that you have the right tools for your journey."

Rosalyn lifted one of the thin swords and drew it from its scabbard. The metal sung out, as if ready. The sword's song and the dangerous glint in Eric's eyes sent chills up her spine. "I'm not sure what to say. Thank you. These are beautiful - and deadly."

"Just like their mistress," he said. "You're not anywhere near ready to wield these yet. I'll teach you how to use them. But I wanted you to have them tonight."

She tested the weight and balance of the sword in her hand. Eric cursed and leapt aside the moment she swung the blade. "They're Britlingen sharp, Ros!"

She bit back a laugh. "Sorry? I wasn't aiming for you."

"Don't move another inch! Hela's tongue, woman. That's an order." Warily, he captured her wrist.

She inspected the intricate leather wrapping on the hilt in her hand. "You made them," she said. She was not sure how she knew. Eric raised his eyebrows. She was coming into her powers very quickly indeed. "Seriously, when the heck do you all find time to do this kind of stuff?"

"You sleep a lot," he said, still rattled at how she had whipped the blade through the air so near him. He pointed to the rippling rainbow pattern in the steel, keeping his index finger at a cautious distance. "These were forged with all my strength, using a special technique I learned from a Britlingen guardian."

"The super dangerous assassin creatures?" she asked.

"Yes. There are very few blades of this kind in our realm. Regular steel is no match for them. They will cut through any creature's bone like butter – vampire, demon, were, you name it."

"Yikes."

"They are probably the finest I have made yet," he said without a trace of arrogance. He huffed. "Godric will probably want me to remake his toys once he sees these."

Rosalyn smiled. "Thank you, truly."

Eric gestured for her to hand over the sword. She pulled it protectively toward her. "Give it here," he said. "Just for a moment."

"You're not tricking me into pledging marriage with you."

"Poppet!" he laughed. "They aren't oathing blades! You need to blood your weapons so they know who they serve. It's a very old and very important tradition. Let me show you." Still wary of a trap, Rosalyn begrudgingly handed him the katana. He flipped its razor-sharp edge upwards. "Touch the blade. Do not press down," he warned her.

Rosalyn set a fingertip on the marbled steel and it instantly bit through her preternatural skin. "Ow! Jesus!" she said, nursing the tiny wound between her teeth.

Eric gave her a stern look, glad she now appreciated why winging the weapon around was no joke. A ruby dot perched on the blade's edge. Eric whispered rapidly into the metal, forswearing it from ever drawing its master's blood again. He made Rosalyn repeat the oath. They initiated the sword's twin together in the same manner.

Eric stored the blades in a locker in the armory adjacent to the gym. "We'll talk about what situations the katanas are best used in," he told her. "Suffice it to say, they're shorter and lighter than most weapons. They're versatile. Perfect for the fighting style you've been learning." Eric fell quiet as Amleth's absence loomed large.

Rosalyn set a hand on his bicep. "I can't wait for you to teach me everything you know."

"I hope you are not offended by my wedding gift. I know you won't lift a weapon unless bloodshed is unavoidable. You are wise beyond your years and temperate in ways that I'll never be."

"I try," she said. Then added, "It is kind of a strange gift for a pacifist."

"You're also fearless, min kärlek. I wanted to give you these swords because…you don't need anyone to fight your battles for you. I will defend you always, of course. But with them, you won't need me. You will hold your own." He shrugged awkwardly and dipped his head, looking uncomfortable in his giant frame. Whether his discomfort was with having called her 'his love' or with his sentiments in general was unclear.

"Did Godric ask you to make these?" she asked curiously.

"No. It was my idea. Why?"

Rosalyn cupped his face. "Eric, sweetheart. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. "You've learned so much more than you think from Godric. You've given me independence – and that's priceless."

He shrugged in embarrassment and pulled her into one of his crushing hugs. "Congratulations on your marriage," he whispered into her hair. "I cannot imagine how we lived for so long without you."

She was momentarily stunned. "That's the loveliest thing you've ever said to me."

He turned back to the locker, evidently mortified by their sappiness. He pulled a leather box from a shelf and passed it to her. He grew somber. "These are for tonight. They aren't special, but they don't need to be. They only need to work." Two flat, silver-tipped daggers lay inside the box. They were thin and seamless, and had no decoration save for a rune etched at the plunge grip of each blade. The rune looked like the letter 'Y', except with three branches at its fork instead of two. "The yew-rune," he explained. "For protection."

"Are they spellcast?" she asked.

"Wherever did you hear a thing like that?" He gave her a funny look. "That kind of magic is gone from this world."

"Oh," she said, sheepish. Apparently not everything in Godric's old books could be taken at face value.

His still wore a baffled expression. "I blessed them. It's the best I could do. You should blood these as well. Come on."

She indulged him with the short prayer ceremony, figuring that anyone who had survived as long as he had must be doing something right. When they were done, he gestured for her to hike her skirt. Kneeling down, he strapped the daggers onto her upper thighs. He grimaced as he adjusted the fittings. "These only come out for one purpose. If you draw one, it's because you're in kill range and it is kill or be killed. Don't pull them as a threat. Don't use them to fight. They belong in an attacker's heart. Understood?" He rose and searched her face for confirmation.

"They're the last line of defense. Stick the sharp end in the enemy's heart and don't stop shoving until they explode."

Eric's nostrils flared and his mouth crashed on hers. "Whatever you do, don't you dare fucking die on me," he said, hands full of her hair.

"Same goes for you," she replied, equally fierce.

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Good. Let's get ready to party, lillasyster."

~OOO~

Godric captured Rosalyn in his arms the second he returned from New Orleans. His shadow team was in place. He inhaled her scent and nuzzled her neck. "Pamela says it is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

Rosalyn chuckled. "I think that's only once I'm dressed? I don't know. It's just a stupid superstition. It doesn't matter."

"Good. I cannot help myself." He kissed her passionately, hands roaming until they came to a stop on her thighs. Their eyes met in understanding and he nodded. He had her follow him to the great hall. Everyone who was serving a tactical role in the wedding was gathered there. Two large corkboards had been rolled in and were full of tacked-up floor plans and charts. For the most part, Rosalyn had been kept from these meetings. Godric could not risk having her nervously glancing in the direction of their undercover agents and giving away the game. Makers could not command emotions – and Godric needed her shock and surprise at the party to be real. Plausible deniability would be essential for her if things went sideways.

He snapped at his underlings to move aside. Pamela laid out a series of photographs on Godric's desk. "These are our allies. Memorize each face," she told Rosalyn. Pam gave basic details for each vampire – their name, age, territory, and any known special powers. She cleverly arranged the pictures in family groups. Rosalyn worked quickly, her mind soaking up the details in mere seconds. Godric had her pay extra attention to the lineage heads. These were the elders she should run to in an emergency. Only two were ancients older than Godric. They went through some hundred images before turning to known enemies.

Rosalyn stared at the pile. "Uh…There are a lot more people flagged as enemies."

Godric nodded gravely. "We could only trust a few clans to know about our plans. Roman has many allies."

Rosalyn picked up Roman's picture. He appeared middle-aged, with silver hair and sharp amber eyes. The skin was drawn over his high cheekbones, emphasizing his full mouth. She resented his terrible beauty. "He looks like a handsome skull."

Godric's expression darkened. "There won't be a bone left to him when I'm through."

A wrinkle creased her brow as she studied the piles laid out on the table. "The enemy clans are all larger." It struck her as odd. Their chosen allies were small, tight-knit families like their own.

"Larger families squabble more," he explained. "They are more likely to cause offense."

Rosalyn reckoned what Godric really meant was that the larger families were more offensive to him specifically. She held her tongue. Now was not the time to openly question him. They were significantly outnumbered - and something more. She could not put her finger on what bothered her. She set Roman's picture aside and continued memorizing the faces of her enemies.

~OOO~

The flight to New Orleans was tense. A weather system had stalled over the southern U.S., turning the cool fall nights wet. Although the rain had been brief, the skies remained turbulent. Godric paced the aisle with a macabre air shrouded about him. He repeatedly visited the cockpit to bark terse orders at the pilot. The Gulfstream dipped as it readjusted altitude, then rose again minutes later after Godric changed course once more. At one point, he snatched up a headset and reamed out the air traffic controller on the other end of the radio. Then he plopped down in front of the secondary yoke and piloted the aircraft himself until he was satisfied.

The sheer quantity of silvered weapons stowed in the cargo hold below was enough to set everyone's teeth on edge. It gave the newborn on board motion sickness. Rosalyn's innards felt weighted downward toward the silver while they hurtled forward, pitching and heaving with Godric's orders. She sat with Eric, her face buried in his shoulder. Save for the thumb that rhythmically stroked her head, Eric remained lock-jawed and unmoving. He stared straight ahead. Isabelle and Stan sat across the aisle, whispering occasionally in near silence. Pam chaperoned Sookie. Even the faeling princess knew to keep quiet. She kept her nose buried in a romance novel until the turbulence forced her to abandon it.

At the private airport on the outskirts of the city, Stan met a group of underlings who had flown separately. They set off in a convoy of black SUVs. Godric drove the remainder of his inner circle himself, with Rosalyn tucked protectively between Pam and Eric in the backseat.

When they arrived at the New Orleans palace, Queen Sophie-Anne was waiting to greet them along with Andre, her child and Second in Command. Godric walked straight past them into the foyer without a word. The petite blonde queen was left gaping on the front stoop. She stared in disbelief as Godric snapped at the head butler and chief of security. Her staff immediately fell in line with his rapid-fire commands.

Eric sidled up to her. He raised his eyebrows. "I did warn you that you would not like it if he showed up on your doorstep."

Sophie-Anne swallowed. "Does he want us out of the state or out of the country? We have nowhere to go."

Eric nodded sympathetically. "Godric needs access to your security system. Be a dove and unlock it for him? For your safety - and the kingdom's." He brushed his fingertip along the side of Sophie-Anne's hand. It was the briefest of touches. Her demeanor changed instantly.

"Of course, Sheriff," she said. She hurried after Godric, her heels clicking on the floor. Eric cut his eyes down at Rosalyn and she hid her smile. His empathic compulsion had worked.

Andre furrowed a brow in confusion. Eric took a step forward and leaned into the shorter Portuguese vampire's face. "Are you going to be a problem, twiglette?" he growled. Andre hesitated for a second as he weighed his options, then vigorously shook his head. "Good," Eric said. "Run along and help your maker."

Eric spoke under his breath to the tactical team listening in his earpiece. The sophisticated technology was so quiet, not even Rosalyn could hear them confirm the Queen and her Second's location.

While Godric and Isabelle set about taking control of the estate, Eric and Pamela led Rosalyn and Sookie to the guest wing. The palace sat over an entire city block. The building was a triumph of Beaux-Arts architecture. It had once been a jewel among jewels in the French Quarter - until the young upstart Sophie-Anne was installed by the consortium of leaders behind the Reveal. Eric explained that the old rascal who had run New Orleans for centuries had been so infuriated by the decision, he took most of the estate's contents with him back to France.

Sophie-Anne had squandered the lion's share of Louisiana's taxes on her renovations. Most of the additions were downright tragic. A casino now took up half the first floor. Slot machines blinked and flashed furiously as the group made their way to the elevators. Eric rolled his eyes in contempt. "Shut those down," he told a guard.

"But the record high scores - " the guard started to protest.

Eric spun on his heel. "Shut them down or I'll shut you down. Which will it be?"

The man blanched. "Right away, Sheriff."

"That's the first and only god damn answer you ever give me when I speak to you," Eric told him. "Understood? Inform your team. I won't repeat myself." The man hastily agreed and scuttled off to deactivate the noisy games. Eric jammed a knuckle at the call button for the elevator car.

On the top floor, Eric spoke silently into his earpiece and craned his neck up at the faux "skylight" dome. Pamela held everyone in the elevator car until he had slipped down each of the corridors and declared them clear. The guest quarters were empty. Eric and Pamela relaxed slightly.

"My word!" Sookie gasped when they entered the hall. She pointed at a reproduction sculpture by Donatello.

"That statue's little winkie remind you of Compton, Tinkerbell?" Eric asked.

"Oh, Eric! You're terrible!" She swatted flirtatiously at Eric's shoulder. "I was just thinkin' this place is much grander than Amleth's."

Eric did not try to explain that Amleth's estate was a perfectly preserved and rather restrained example of late English Georgian design, while this place was a hot mess that had more in common with Vegas than Versailles. "It's extra alright," he said instead.

"I've never been inside the palace either," Rosalyn said to Sookie. Visitors to the estate's public events entered directly into the gardens by way of a street-side gate. She jabbed an elbow at Eric and gave him a look. 'Behave yourself,' she mouthed with a smile.

'Never,' he silently replied. He gave a salacious grin. "Sookie, I'm sure Pamela would be happy to tell you all about the palace. She knows the place better than I do. Isn't that right, Pammy? How many times did you sleep with Sophie-Anne? Twice? Or was it three times?"

"Merciful Jesus," his child said. "Can you please not remind me?"

"I mean, once is a mistake. We've all been there," he quipped. "But twice? Twice isn't a mistake, Pam."

Rosalyn was not remotely surprised by Eric's shenanigans, but Sookie's eyes grew round. "You slept with your boss?" she said. Pamela growled, aggravated with all of them.

Eric chuckled. "Oh, come on, Miss Stackhouse. Isn't that the little pot talking shit to the big pot?"

"I don't think that's the idiom, Eric," Rosalyn said under her breath.

Eric was not done teasing Sookie. "Don't act like you weren't thinking about shacking up with your shifter boss. Anybody can do it doggy style, princess. If you're that desperate -"

"You leave Sam Merlotte alone! He's a good man," Sookie said. "I won't stand for your nasty talk, mister."

Eric made a noise of displeasure and roughly checked an emergency stairwell door to confirm that it was locked. Pamela rolled her eyes at her maker. "Come on, cupcake," she said to Sookie. She steered the human to the front of the group and began elaborating on the design elements of the palace. She was more than happy to play tour guide and style maven. Sookie looked relieved to escape Eric and made for an eager audience.

They followed Pamela toward the accommodations they would use as staging grounds before the ceremony. Marble floors gleamed in every direction of the west wing. "High-maintenance and short-lived," Pamela said of the flooring material. She dropped her voice. "Just like the soon-to-be former Queen."

Sookie giggled. "I reckon by the time you'd finish moppin' at one end, you'd have to start all over at the other." Pamela frowned at the mention of manual labor.

Heavy gold damask curtains framed floor-to-ceiling French windows. Sookie trotted beside the swift vampiress, soaking up her pronouncements. "Tacky, synthetic fabric," Pamela commented as the group breezed by. "You should have seen the luscious velvets that used to be here. These drapes are criminal."

Pamela stopped dead in her tracks. The long, window-lined hallway was also less than ideal in a vampire domicile. She went to a window and scraped a nail on the pane, then jerked at a drape. It did not budge. The curtains were fake. "Motherfucker. Eric! She had the UV mirroring removed!"

Sookie's eyes bulged. "Bad for energy efficiency?" she guessed.

"No. Massive security risk!" Pam replied, turning to her maker. "It's like she wants to make sure her guests can't get out alive." Eric went to confirm the situation. The windows faced the street. By day, the hallway would be exposed to sunlight. At night, those inside were now clearly visible to anyone outside. It was an ideal setup for an ambush. A shooter could pick them off like fish in a barrel.

"This fucking place," Eric spat. He quickly put his body between the window and the women.

"Let me guess," Rosalyn said. "You'd torch it if you could?"

"No. I like the palace. I'm less a fan of forcing Area Five to bankroll Sophie-Anne's monstrous tastes."

Pamela put a hand on her hip, indignant. "You need to get the former King back here to fix this shit, Eric. It makes us all look bad."

"Priorities, Pam." He hurried them through the passageway, whispering rushed instructions into his earpiece. Stan was to immediately send team-members to black-out the windows. Once they were clear of the unsafe stretch of hall, Pamela tossed her suitcase down and began rooting around in it. She emerged with two clicking cans of spray paint. "Cancel that order, Stan. We've got it covered," Eric said.

Pamela turned to Sookie. "Never travel without lipstick, duct tape, and a couple cans of Krylon." She tossed one can to her. "Help a girl redecorate, will you?

Chapter Text

Godric stared into the mirror. Framed in its gilt curves, a thousand versions of himself gazed back. The lives he had lived wore many faces. The stranger. The savage. The killer. The boy. He was always ready to slip on those masks. He fidgeted awkwardly in his black suit. He tried to remember who he was supposed to become. Husband. There was no hiding behind that.

Eric loomed in the background, perfecting the peek of cuff at the wrists of his dress jacket. He inspected the black wool landscape of his legs for lint. Satisfied, he adjusted a gold brooch on the contrasting black lapel of his white coat. The brooch featured an ouroboros snake encircling a longsword – the sigil of Godric’s House. He polished it with a thumb to ensure it shined.

Godric spoke abruptly to his reflection. “If I’m going to die, it had better be for her.”

Eric looked up. The smile evaporated from his face. “What?” he said in alarm.

Godric swallowed. “I’ve been ready for war my entire life. We’ve been in war more than out of it.” Godric’s expression wavered. “This is the first night in all my years that I’ve truly wanted peace. I’ve never wanted something so badly for this family.”

“And so you will have it,” Eric said with conviction.

“I am woefully unprepared to give this to us.”

Eric set his broad palms on his maker’s shoulders. He leaned down to meet Godric’s gaze. “We will not fail. You are not alone in this. We will be victorious.”

“There is so much at stake.” Godric winced. “We’ve never had so much to lose.”

“I swear to you on the god of -“

“Don’t,” Godric said sharply. “Don’t tempt the gods. Please.” He gave Eric a worried look and shrugged out from beneath his touch. “Are the tactical teams in place?”

“Affirmative.”

“Our allies are accounted for?”

“All but Egypt. Seb is running slightly late.”

Godric nodded. “Waiting for Sookie, no doubt.” Eric hummed in agreement. “We won’t begin the ceremony until everyone is in place.” He demanded a dozen more specifics, pacing the floor as he nitpicked every detail.

“Maker,” Eric finally interrupted. “You never get nervous before battle. You’re worried about the wedding itself.” Godric chewed his lip and looked up at his child through dark lashes. Eric chanced a smirk at him. “You’ll be fine.”

“Rosalyn is already bound to me. I’m being ridiculous,” he admitted.

“There hasn’t been a pledging like this in my lifetime. It’s colossal. I’d be concerned if you weren’t having second thoughts about trying to pull off a major coup in the middle of something this important.”

The muscles in Godric’s cheeks tensed. “What if Ros backs out at the last minute?”

Eric let out an exasperated laugh. “Goðí, Ros might be a hippy, but she’s no flake. She’s got the determination of a Valkyrie. She won’t back out.”

“She might.”

Eric took Godric by the arms. “Of all the decisions you have ever made – and you chose to turn me – that woman is the smartest thing you have ever done.” Eric stared at him forcefully. “You’ve given the world something incredible in sharing immortality with her.”

“I don’t deserve her,” Godric said quietly.

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t. I know I don’t.”

Eric snorted in irritation. “Then you don’t know what is good for you, and you ought to thank the gods you have me. How many have I slain over the centuries to keep you to myself? Surely thousands. Tens of thousands?” Godric said nothing. It was not an exaggeration. More than one army had come between them. Eric stared down at him defiantly. “You asked for my blessing and I gave it. I accept no one else. Rosalyn is worthy of you. You deserve her – and more importantly – she deserves you. That woman wants you as her husband, Godric, so you’d better not let her down. You’ll have me to answer to if you make her unhappy.”

Godric hid an embarrassed smile. “You’re not an enemy I’d like to make.”

“Give yourself to her, Maker. Don’t ‘withhold’, as she calls it. That’s what got me in trouble with her.”

“I will try to love her well.” Godric set a hand on his child’s cheek. “I hope I’ve…” Crimson welled in his eyes. He struggled for words.

Eric sucked in a breath and furrowed his brow. “Gods, don’t start. I’ll make a fool of myself.”

Godric exhaled, blinking back tears. “I…” he tried. Eric’s face danced as he battled his own emotions. “You are everything to me,” Godric finally managed with a gasp.

Eric’s resolve crumpled. “Allfather,” he said in a choked whisper.

Eric was quick with the handkerchiefs. Both men leaned forward, trying desperately not to spoil their clothes. “I’m a masochist for wearing white,” Eric said, snuffling. “What the hell was I thinking?” They both started laughing, still daubing at their tears.

When they managed to collect themselves, Eric gestured for his maker to sit with him at the vanity. He reached down into a leather bag stowed in the footwell and pulled out a small square box. “Really?” Godric said, genuinely surprised. He had not anticipated a gift from Eric.

“You blessed me with immortality and when I least expected it, you gave me someone to share it with. It is the greatest honor of my life to give my bonded sister to you in marriage. I wish you every happiness.”

“Your blessing is the only gift I need.” Godric took the box and blinked hard, preemptively wiping at an eyelid. Inside the box was a pin like Eric’s, only it was three times as large and not a decorative brooch but a functioning circle pin meant to fasten a cloak. The Old-World style harkened back to why they had designed their House sigil as they had.

“It is a work of art,” Godric said softly. Eric’s metalworking skills far surpassed his own. The piece was studded with black diamonds for each member of their clan. Re-used from their own collection, he surmised, to placate Rosalyn’s ethical concerns. The large gemstones and heavy gold winked under the vanity lights. “You don’t think it’s too flashy for me?”

Eric reached over and traced the round edge of the serpent. “It’s a fitting reminder of your legacy. In your blood, we are bound. Don’t forget.”

A smile escaped at the corner of Godric’s mouth. “So it’s a threat.”

Eric shook his head. “It is tribute.” He looked away and struggled. “You could have chosen to move on without me. You didn’t. I am eternally grateful.”

Godric scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are the reason this House exists.” Godric poked at him with the sword of the pin and Eric batted him away, not finding any humor in the teasing attack. “I will treasure it,” Godric told him. Thinking further, he added, “I gave up long ago trying to discern where I end and you begin. Thank you, blood of my blood.” Eric tightened a fist over his handkerchief, but managed to swallow back another wave of tears. Godric squeezed his knee and Eric nodded in acceptance.

Eric pulled out a second box from his tote, this one large and flat with a simple bow. “From Rosalyn. You’re to wear this with your tux.”

The Celt touched his bowtie self-consciously. “Do I look like a dweeb?”

Eric adjusted the necktie and smoothed a stray hair on his maker’s playboy coif. His cheeks and lips were flushed pink. He had fed extra well. Eric sighed. “You have never looked more handsome in all the years I’ve known you. You’re lucky we’re at your wedding. They’d eat you alive otherwise.”

Sheepish, Godric turned back to the package in his hands. He untied the ribbon slowly, at a loss for what it might be. The package smelled vaguely familiar – something arid and just beyond the reach of his memory.

He gasped when he opened the lid. He looked up in shock. “How?!” He ran his hand over the fabric in the box. He had never touched material like this, much less owned it. There was only one source for cloth this exquisite – and he had never known the Queen of Egypt to share.

“Egypt is in place now, Maker. Forgive me, I may have fibbed slightly. Sorry. Seb was running late because his people were getting this to us.”

“Not another lie out of you, do you understand me?” Godric warned, entirely distracted by his gift. It was not the thick, slubby linen offered in today’s shops around springtime. It was cloth fit only for a pharaoh – a living god. A linen so intricately patterned and delicately spun it was completely sheer. Concern clouded his brow. He set the box down. “Tell me Ros hasn’t indebted us to Queen Neith for this.”

“No, Maker. It was the damnedest thing. Seb called and offered it to her. He had it dyed for you so there wouldn’t be any confusion with Neith’s whites.”

“This wasn’t dyed with indigo,” Godric said to himself, flabbergasted. The deep blue tint had come from precious lapis lazuli stones pulverized into a powder. The process had left flakes of gold embedded in the material. Godric put the cloth to his nose. “Gods above. It smells as Thebes did, two thousand years ago.”

Eric hesitated. “I wasn’t sure we should accept it.”

“Are you going to tell the Vizier no?” Eric cast him a dubious look. Godric chewed his cheek in consideration. “If a child of the First Blood wants to offer his friendship to my wife, so be it. I don’t think we have a say in the matter.”

“He wants something.”

“Of course he wants something.” Godric flexed his jaw. “I promised him a piece of Thea in exchange for his help.”

“That’s all?”

“To be fair, it was more than I was willing to spare.”

Eric got laughing hysterically, and the more he tried to stop, the harder he laughed. “You ancients and your Code of Hammurabi madness! No wonder he’s playing nice.” Godric hoped that was all there was to Seb’s generosity. He passed Eric a fresh handkerchief.

“One final thing,” Eric said once he was composed. He held out a tin. “Per Madame’s orders. I hope I got the mixture right.” Godric popped the lid and the scent of pounded woad leaves and soda ash hit his nose. It was another smell from his youth. He smiled wickedly.

His wife had sent him war paint.

~OOO~

Sookie’s squeal of excitement cut through the dressing room. “Princess,” Pam winced. “Dial it down an octave. The dogs might come running.” Rosalyn had opened her garment bag. The three women stood in matching robes staring at its contents.

“Sorry,” Sookie gushed and took a sip of her cosmopolitan cocktail. “I know ya’lls hearing is sensitive. It’s just – oh my goodness gracious, Ros! You’re going to look like a goddess!”

Rosalyn let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. She hated all the fuss. Pamela had taken her maid of honor duties very seriously – hence the matching robes and the girlie drinks. She had been all too thrilled with the prospect of finding Ros a new wedding dress – even with such short notice. After all, it meant that she got to wear ten pounds of emeralds in public with a dress custom-made to show them off.

The two women had peered through dozens of fashion lookbooks in search of inspiration, but nothing spoke to Rosalyn. “They all look like someone else’s idea of what is special,” she had declared. “They’re dresses for women who want to look expensive. That’s not me.” Pamela had agreed, but on wholly different grounds. Everything looked too human. She did not want what Rosalyn wore to be dated in the blink of an eye.

Rosalyn came up with a workaround. She asked Pamela to design the dress herself. The vampiress had been beside herself with excitement. In remarkable time, Pam had filled her work desk with fabric samples, sketches, and history books. They agreed on a style and Rosalyn happily delegated the rest of the details to her friend.

“Fuck,” Pam said, after Rosalyn’s silence grew too long. “You hate it.”

“I…” Rosalyn went to touch the gown, then recoiled her hand.

“Please, Ros,” Pamela begged. “Godric will stake me if I’ve fucked this up.”

“I thought we agreed I wasn’t going to wear jewelry.”

“You’re not. Just a dress.”

Rosalyn shifted uncomfortably. “It’s…real?”

“What do you mean is it real? Of course it’s – ” Pam caught herself, recognizing the problem. “The materials are recycled, Rosalyn. It is a gift from your maker.”

“He’s seen it?”

“Of course not. But he was very insistent. He wanted his wedding gift to you to be something timeless and fit for an immortal.”

Rosalyn frowned, then startled Pamela when she threw her arms around her. “It’s stunning! I can’t thank you enough.”

Pamela sighed in relief. She turned to Sookie. “Alright, sugar cube. Let’s get you dressed first and sent downstairs. Your chaperone is waiting.”

“Is Seb really…you know…” Sookie dropped her voice, “twice as old as Godric?”

“Yes. A word of advice about the old crocodile – he is not down for History Channel chitchat. Don’t piss him off.”

Sookie gave an enthusiastic nod. “Gotcha. Anything else?”

Pam huffed, annoyed that she had warmed to the perky breather. “Just be smart. Keep your ears open and your mouth shut.” They were sending her into an incredibly dangerous situation and it was Eric’s ass on the line if she got hurt. Sookie wanted her freedom. Rosalyn had devised a way to appease everyone by having Sookie contract Eric’s security services as an independent business owner operating in his Area. It was more dignified than parading her around as the Sheriff’s claimed asset, but the tactic wasn’t without risks. They had inked the agreement in a rushed affair right after they had arrived, with their half-demon lawyer Cataliades as witness. The only real contracts vampires tended to respect were written in blood, he had reminded them. Parking Sookie next to an ancient ally during the ceremony was the best they could manage while Eric was busy.

When Sookie disappeared into the changing room, Rosalyn turned to Pam. “The boys are awful quiet.” Godric and Eric had muted their bonds. It was not like them to hide in the blood.

“They’ll re-open their connection once we get started.” Pam’s confidence was reassuring.

“What do you think they’re up to?”

She quirked an eyebrow at the younger vampiress. “They’re warriors, Ros. They’re probably ramping each other up with inspirational speeches and big boy tough talk.”

“For some reason I can’t see that.”

Pamela snorted. “Whatever they’re doing, darling, let’s agree that they’re not doing it as fabulously as us. Cheers to the missus.” She held her blood cocktail up in a toast.

~OOO~

A hush fell over the guests as the lithe, Spanish woman swept across the stage. The energy in the crowd was palpable. They had expected Queen Sophie-Anne.

Isabelle raised her arms to the audience in welcome. “Good evening, one and all,” she said. “Your majesties, your honors, mesdames and messieurs, ladies and gentleman.” She curtsied at the King of Spain – an obligatory acknowledgement of her maker. King Antonio took it as an opportunity to rise and bow to the other guests. “A thousand blessings to you on this auspicious night,” she continued. “The House of Godric is pleased to join you this evening in celebrating the sacrament of marriage.”

In the wing of the stage, Godric was restless, hands jammed into his pant pockets. “Where is Rosalyn? Why has Pamela not brought her down yet?”

Eric steadied his maker gently by the shoulders from behind. He leaned down to his ear. “She will come. Everything is going as planned.”

“I want to get this over with.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Are you mad?” he spat. “I don’t want to smell the stench of these sycophants.”

“Maker -“

Godric jerked on his heel to face Eric. “Don’t you ‘maker’ me,” he said in a harsh whisper. A deadly finger was jammed in Eric’s face.

Eric grabbed Godric’s wrist and got close. “If I can feel you panicking this strongly, think of what you’re sending Rosalyn right now,” he said through gritted teeth. “With all due respect, Maker, calm the fuck down.” Godric’s eyelid twitched as he considered clobbering Eric, then he nodded ever so slightly. “Thank you,” Eric said, more than a little relieved. “Now, get out there and see to this business.”

Isabelle was onstage reciting Godric’s titles in introduction. She was careful to leave out the less flattering ones – the sort they used to sing in the sagas to remind wicked children to behave. Godric moved toward the stage and Eric stopped him. Eric pressed his mouth to Godric’s temple, careful not to smear the streaks of blue paint slashed across his face. “Whatever happens, remember: I am with you always.”

They exchanged a look, Godric blinked slowly, and he stepped out into the limelight. He was met with a moment of stunned silence, and then a roar. He wore a chieftain’s sash in an unearthly blue fabric pinned at his left shoulder. It unfurled down the back of his tux and swayed as he walked in shining azure folds. The ornate cloak pin on his shoulder glittered wildly under the lights. Through the thundering noise, he could discern voices. He heard the Queen of Ireland whistle and an old Pictish ally cheered “All hail the Ancient One!”

Godric kept his eyes lowered, avoiding the bright lights hung over the canopy of the stage. He had learned his lesson about this particular theatre setup the hard way. Pamela had covered the powerful beams with colored gel plates to lessen their blinding effect, but he remained wary.

When he reached Isabelle and faced the audience, a stone dropped in his stomach. He did not need to see the crowd to know what he felt. The courtyard was thrumming dangerously with the electric power of too many ancient auras. Among them, only a handful were on his side.

His eyesight adjusted, and he chanced a glance upwards. Amid the sea of faces, he caught Roman’s gaze. Roman’s pouting lips curved into the slightest of smiles, and amusement played in the elder’s amber eyes. Dread bloomed in his belly. He should have asked for more help. He should have trusted more friends. They were hideously outnumbered. Isabelle was talking to the audience. Godric did not hear a word. Only when he heard a collective gasp did he snap out of his rapid recalculations. The King of California, Sean Tan, strode onto the stage with a parchment box.

The audience stared on in amazement as the fashionable young king bowed deeply to Godric. He wore a sharply cut suit in bright, Malaya-inspired pastels, along with a more conservatively styled black velvet cap on his head. He set the ceremonial box containing the marriage contract upon a stone altar and took his place next to Godric.

What had been a low rush of whispers turned to steady hum of excitement. Rumors had been flying around about who, precisely, Godric intended to marry. One did not announce such things before a wedding – the wedding was the announcement. Political marriages already tended to have a high casualty rate without giving folks a head start. Godric’s allies and direct superiors knew, of course, and they held that information in the strictest of confidence. Small fortunes had been wagered across the vampire community on Godric’s likely choice of a spouse. Judging by the sound of it, a lot of money was going to be lost.

“As many of you are aware,” Godric said to the audience, “King Tan has led California through some of America’s greatest challenges. Who can forget his heroic actions during the 1906 earthquake?” Godric paused to allow an enthusiastic round of applause. The vapid political speech Eric had written for him was working like a charm. The King waved in acknowledgement, nodded, and waved more.

Youth and ambition were dangerous traits in a vampire – and Sean Tan possessed both in equal measure. Ordinarily, Godric kept such creatures at a measured distance. Their avarice inevitably brought about their undoing. Tan was an interesting exception to that rule. His political aspirations were tempered by a very healthy respect for the wisdom of his elders – Godric’s wisdom, in particular. And that made Sean incredibly useful. It did not hurt that California was the second most influential state in their government after Louisiana. Godric hoped Rosalyn would not be too upset with him for what he was about to do.

He wandered toward the proscenium – a move that allowed him to take stock of everyone’s positions. “Sean has played a crucial role in many of California’s successes. How many of us have benefited from the economic growth in his state?” More clapping followed, and some idiot hooted “Hollywood!” at the top of his lungs – a moniker for the king not actually used in polite company. Tan’s short-lived cinematic career had been a rare misstep. Godric scanned the far courtyard wall. He suspected the offender was a certain waiter he had met here earlier in the year. The progeny of Ken O’Malley of Atlanta, he recalled. Godric made a mental note to have a strong word with him – if he managed to survive this.

Godric continued once the applause waned. “From San Francisco to San Diego, King Tan has brought stability and opportunity for our kind. He has helped us build stronger ties with our allies in Asia and has served as a trusted public figure during the Reveal. Please join me in welcoming King Tan tonight as he forges a new alliance – one of the most important a vampire can make.” Godric gave Sean a knowing look, and Sean beamed a perfect, matinee-idol smile at the crowd.

~OOO~

Pamela bent the end of a bobby pin between her teeth while running. She chased after Rosalyn through the corridor behind the stage. “Hurry up!” Rosalyn hissed at her. “Godric is freaking out!” She burst through a set of double doors and came to a halt. A stage manager with a clipboard and a headset shushed her. In the wings of the theatre, everyone was dressed in black and moving silently. Pamela lunged at Rosalyn and stuck the final bobby pin in place. She used a slick of saliva to fix a few hairs, then settled a dark blue veil over Rosalyn’s head. Rosalyn fluffed it around her dress, panting. “I think I’m hyperventilating.”

“You can’t hyperventilate, you twit. You’re dead,” Pam said, smoothing the veil around her.

“I can’t breathe. It’s the shapewear you forced me to put on.”

“It’s the elders you’re feeling.”

“What?” Rosalyn said in panic.

“Shush!” the stage manager mouthed at them. The microphones were liable to pick up their conversation if they were not careful.

Pam put her mouth near Rosalyn’s ear. “That tingly, electric feeling? The one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin? It’s because there are hundreds of elders out there. Basically every single one of them can kill you.”

“Jesus, Pam!”

“What? It’s not like you didn’t know. Just ignore it. You’ll be fine.”

“Was it this bad for everyone at the fundraiser?”

“Nowhere close. The guests were mostly youngling delegates or humans. This is the real frickin’ deal tonight, girlfriend.”

Rosalyn tried to peek through the thick tab curtains blocking her view of the stage. Pamela stopped her. “You’ll see it all soon enough.” She maneuvered Rosalyn out of the way. A team of burly were-guards gathered by the emergency exit, blocking it. Rosalyn looked at Pam in alarm. “They’re waiting for Isabelle,” she reassured her.

Beyond the wing of the theatre, the courtyard erupted in applause. The clapping built in intensity and held. There was a standing ovation.

“Ready?” Pamela asked.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

Before Pamela could answer, Isabelle emerged between the curtains. A man in a boldly patterned tux followed her. As soon as Isabelle was clear of the audience’s sightline, she sprang into action, issuing orders to the guards.

The stage manager revealed herself to be an undercover security detail. She began feeding Isabelle with a stream of updates on the audience. “Nevada has been neutralized. Oklahoma too. We’re keeping close tabs on New York. He is not a happy camper.”

“And the High Counselor?” Isabelle asked.

“Roman didn’t bat an eye.” Isabelle swore and hiked her skirt. She pulled out a gun and handed it to the man in the tux.

“Congratulations,” Pamela offered.

“Thanks,” Isabelle and Sean said in unison.

“King Tan,” Rosalyn said, recognizing the handsome man from his picture. He had been marked as an important ally. Rosalyn curtsied.

“Madame,” he nodded. “We’ll meet properly later. Good luck.” He took Isabelle’s arm and they rushed out the emergency exit surrounded by the security team.

Rosalyn understood they were operating on a need-to-know basis, but this was absurd. She turned to Pamela. “What the hell is going on?”

“Isabelle just married the King of California. Isn’t that great?” Pamela patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. She was the one who proposed.”

“Oh,” Rosalyn managed.

Pamela smirked and glanced at the security agent posing as a stage manager. The agent had her back turned and was busy talking on her headset. “Everyone came here thinking Godric was going to marry someone like Tan with more political power to cover his ass. He just pulled a switcheroo on these jerkoffs while they were trapped in their seats.”

“People thought Godric was going to marry that guy? I mean, he seems like a catch, but -“

“Cupcake, a demon attacked Godric’s human toy in his own home and the Fellowship blew up a house in his backyard. He looks weak and old.”

“Jesus. Right. And they think I’m still alive.”

“We told you, remember? Sean is a very loyal ally.” Pamela arched an eyebrow meaningfully.

They had told her. If things went sideways, Rosalyn was to run to King Tan for help if she could not first get to Eric’s colleagues, Thalia and Indira. “Tan and Godric go way back?” she asked.

Pamela smiled deviously. “All the way back.”

Rosalyn made a quick assessment. Vampires were endlessly tallying old scores and unsettled debts. If the king had known Godric since he was a newborn, he likely owed Godric a great deal. Tan must be Godric’s man. And with Isabelle now married to him…

Rosalyn was new to plotting and subterfuge, but she did her best to fill in the blanks. She had a sneaking suspicion it was exactly what Godric wanted to her to do – as her maker. He had sheltered her from tonight’s plans and cut her off from the news only to protect her. He did not want her naïve. She was about to officially become consort of his bloodline. She needed to starting thinking like one – and fast.

She tried to imagine what had just happened on stage and how it must have appeared to the audience. If Godric’s reputation had suffered as badly as Pam was suggesting, people likely thought they had just witnessed a popular, dashing king sweep in to lift a respected Second-in-Command out from her scandal-beleaguered Area. Godric must have seemed like the sheepish host, helping his colleague out of his embattled Area by footing the bill.

But Isabelle was not going anywhere. She had effectively taken over Louisiana the moment their retinue had crossed the threshold – and no one in the audience even yet knew. America’s biggest political players had cheered on as the two most powerful states in the country married right before their eyes.

“New York is unhappy?” Rosalyn asked cautiously, keeping an eye on the undercover agent. “Was the king not informed?” As far as she understood, New York was the only state with enough clout to make a problem.

Pamela shrugged. “Jude is no concern. He can’t afford to lose the edge we offer his subjects in the London and Tokyo markets. Eric has always done right by him.”

Rosalyn shook her head in disbelief. She wasn’t prepared for the audacity of Godric’s plans. The royalty in the crowd had applauded as an unstoppable alliance took shape that would all but obliterate their own national influence. A power bloc between California and Louisiana, with New York’s support, would crush any opposition. And the three monarchs in question answered to Godric.

Godric had just taken over the United States.

~OOO~

Godric gestured for the guests to quiet down. “I know you are eager to congratulate the happy couple in person. We would ask that you keep your seats a moment longer. There is one more union we wish to share with you – a union I think some of you will not have witnessed before.”

Conducting multiple marriages at once was common enough, although such affairs were usually held at official summits. Godric certainly appeared to be dressed as a groom. Those with outstanding bets retained hope they might still win big. Chatter echoed off the courtyard walls as the guests speculated about the nature of the next marriage. Eric’s name passed more than a few lips, but the prospect seemed ridiculous. Maker-child marriages were all but pointless. By vampire law, Godric already had the right to dispose of all of Eric’s assets. He would gain nothing which he did not already have.

The guests’ heads pivoted as they tried to take stock of who was missing. London was not present. Reports out of the UK suggested he had been deposed, though the Queen had remained tight-lipped. Illinois and Mexico were not in their seats; either might be a plausible candidate. Some wondered whether it was to be an extended contract nuptial. An extra century penned on the agreement meant little when one was as old as Godric. But who? Attention shifted as the guests began to suspect Sophie-Anne. Her debts made her vulnerable to such a lengthy match. But no one could quite believe that Godric was desperate enough to take on the young queen.

“Well come on, old boy, don’t keep us in suspense!” Russell Edgington called out. Godric’s mouth quirked at the King of Mississippi. Russell was antsy to get on with the real fun. Godric looked off-stage. It was now or never. He gave the sign.

~OOO~

Visions of kings and coronations were still reeling in Rosalyn’s head when Pamela urged her out onto the stage. Rosalyn forgot about the political intrigue the moment she stepped through the curtains. She did not hear the chorus of singers and their sweet, tinkling instruments. She did not see the swags of flowers and jars of floating lightning bugs. She did not smell the warm incense burning. Time stopped.

The wedding was only meant to be a performance. The real pledging had already occurred. And yet, there was nothing staged about her reaction when she saw Godric. Beneath her veil, she pressed a hand against her mouth. She was his and he was hers. He stood at the altar, waiting. A Celtic warrior, time’s shadow, the first and last true Gael.

Eric beckoned her forward, a hand outstretched. He was as impossibly beautiful as their maker. Mine, she thought at them, and Eric’s grin split into a beaming smile. Godric was frozen, his expression illegible. Pamela whispered behind her to keep walking. Rosalyn let out a breath. She was surrounded by more family than she ever thought she would have.

She found her spot at the altar, where a priestess presided. The woman had been turned at an advanced age. She was bent, with thickly braided white hair, and a twisted pupil in one eye. Her voice was clear and quick. Only a fool would think her transition had left her infirm. “Who brings this vampiress to the altar?” she asked.

Eric stepped forward. “Bless this bride, priestess, for she is mine, bound to me forever in the sacred bonds of blood.” Murmurs of shock rippled through the crowd as Eric revealed that he was fully blood bonded to the bride – and that he was giving her to his maker. No one could fathom how someone had secretly worked their claws into the unyielding Viking. More than a few guests burst into tears.

The bride on stage was swathed head to toe in sparkling azure linen. In the candlelight, the shrouded figure looked like the night sky, studded with so many twinkling stars. Eric bowed to the priestess. “I present you with my bonded sister, Madame Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray – of House Godric.”

A collective gasp came from the audience, then shouts and cries of astonishment. The gossip in the tabloids was one thing, idle talk in the courts another. But to have the most outrageous of rumors confirmed?

The audience devolved into chaos. Godric had turned his human – the one he refused to call ‘pet.’ The marriage was not at all to improve Godric’s political fortunes. It was to elevate a newborn to a status unheard of among their kind. He was anointing her consort of his bloodline.

“Silence!” the priestess demanded. The commotion settled. Chairs that had been tipped in outrage were righted. The tension in the air remained.

Pamela knelt at Rosalyn’s feet and lifted her veil. Godric had not moved. He stared at his beloved, a hand over his heart. A film of crimson misted in his eyes. Pamela worked efficiently. She pinned the veil at Rosalyn’s left shoulder so that it cascaded magnificently over her back in a sweep of sky that matched her maker’s sash. Eric stared at her in open admiration. “Valkyrie,” he mouthed. Pamela had outdone herself. Rosalyn wore a dress made entirely of pearls, beaded in such a manner that it appeared to be armor.

“Who represents this vampire at the altar?” the priestess asked.

“I do,” Eric said, turning to his maker. “Bless this groom, priestess, for I am his, bound to him through the sacred bonds of creation. I present you with Godric the Great, Lord of his House and Line.”

“Sir Northman,” the priestess continued. “Do both parties enter into this marriage free and of their own accord? Uncompelled and with full recognition of its most sacred order?”

“They do,” Eric said.

“Then let us proceed.”

Vampire protocol tended to err on the side of rapidity, lest things become complicated by the presence of so many old acquaintances. And it was always complicated.

The priestess invited the couple towards the altar. Godric licked his lower lip, awe etched in his features. “My muse,” he whispered and Rosalyn clenched her eyes against a tide of tears. There were sighs and sniffles from the guests. The priestess poured a wide ring of salt around the altar, encircling the entire family. When she was finished, she set an ornately carved box on the altar. Godric went to it and withdrew something that flashed beneath the lights. It was not a piece of parchment.

“My god!” someone shouted in the audience. “A pledging! They are pledging!” Guests shot to their feet. Godric took up an oathing knife and held it aloft. He spoke in his ancient tongue, his voice carrying far into the Louisiana night, then he dropped to one knee. Lowering his head, he offered Rosalyn the blade.

There was absolute silence. No one had ever seen Death kneel.

“Do you understand this vampire’s offer?” the priestess asked Rosalyn.

Rosalyn could feel a thousand old eyes shift onto her. They wanted to know why she was chosen. Why she was so important. They wanted to know the sweet potato’s secret, she thought, with a sudden pang. She nearly stumbled over her line. “I understand, Mother Priestess, and I accept this oath. I pledge myself to you, Godric, for all time, or may this holy blade deliver the true death unto me.” Rosalyn took the knife, kissed it, then dropped to her knees.

Godric looked at her in alarm. “What…” he began, then stopped himself before he said something regrettable in front of all of vampiredom’s nobility.

Rosalyn gripped the knife by its blade. She had learned a thing or two from Eric. “So you know what forever means when I say it, blood of my blood.” She stared at him defiantly, eyes fierce with love. Godric’s expression turned to astonishment. Tentatively, he grasped the other half of the blade. The official photographers’ cameras had been steadily clicking throughout the ceremony. They now sounded off in another blitz. Eric pulled a strip of the blue linen from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to the priestess. She began binding the couple’s hands around the knife, uttering a mysterious incantation as she worked. The priestess held her gnarled hands over their heads and sanctified their pledged union.

“Blessed be they who enter into the holiest of oaths. Cursed be those who would break it.” The priestess looked out onto the audience with her twisted eye and let her pronouncement sink in. The fool who dared harm a pledged maker-progeny couple would be hunted to the end of time.

~OOO~

Russell Edgington clapped his invitation against his knee. He leaned to the elder beside him. “The trouble is, Counselor, it always feels a bit like a dare when Godric tries to tell us not to do something, doesn’t it?”

Roman cut his eyes at the russet-haired vampire. He did not take the bait. “Russell,” he said. “Talbot.” He nodded politely at the King of Mississippi and his husband, then stood. “It is a night for elegant consorts, I see.” He winked at Talbot and made his way toward the aisle. The younger vampires were scrambling to form greeting lines at a low dais where the newlyweds would sit. Talbot turned to Russell, flustered. “I told you this purple shirt worked with my coloring.”

Russell shut his eyes in forbearance. “Do shut up, my love.”

On the far end of the courtyard, Stan pretended to scratch his beard while he spoke into his earpiece. “Affirmative, Team One is a go. Team Two is a go.” Unseen among the guests, Godric’s security teams were ready to snatch their targets unawares. The exits and private rooms were prime locations.

Some rows over, Sookie sat stiffly beside Seb. Panic was evident in her eyes. Seb spoke in a rich baritone. “You do not like crowds,” he observed.

“No, sir.”

“These vampires will not bother you while you’re with me.”

“Wish that were true about the humans.”

Seb studied her curiously. His aristocratic features and dry manner unsettled her. “There are hardly any humans in attendance.” He offered her a pocket silk for the sweat on her forehead. “We will wait here while the children give their blessings. I do not care for queues myself.”

Sookie turned to her chaperone. Her eyes darted around and she spoke in a low whisper. “Lord Seb, forgive me. I hate to be a nuisance. Would you escort me to the ladies’ room? It’s just over there, by the stage door.”

“Are you ill?”

“I have…human needs,” she explained. “The blood cocktail table is on the way if you wanna make a pit stop.”

“For my vampire needs?” he asked. Sookie’s face fell. The ancient let out a rolling chuckle. “Of course, little quail. Let’s find you a toilet.”

~OOO~

“You cunning creature!” Godric said huskily. He pushed Rosalyn against the wall of the green room offstage. “A handbinding?”

“I said I wouldn’t give you a crappy political marriage. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to make it special.” They had agreed they would not do the blood rites in public. Rosalyn had somehow made their ceremony intimate, even as the world looked on.

Godric’s tongue found hers. He could hardly bear to hold himself back. He rucked her skirt up around her hips. “My daggers! They’re silver-tipped!” she tried to warn him.

He smothered her protests with a kiss. “They’re sheathed.”

“So are you.” She ground against the bulge pressing at her underwear. He nipped her neck and drank with a growl. Rosalyn gasped in pleasure. Godric lathed her throat with his tongue, leaving no trace of his feeding. He leaned back and leveled a feral gaze at her.

“We don’t have time,” she told him.

“My party, my rules,” he purred and tugged at her skirt.

“Careful. Pam will kill me if we ruin this dress.”

He straightened. “This is her doing?”

“She designed it. Do you like it?”

He gave a crooked smile. Pamela must have known that losing Rosalyn’s engagement ring in the bombing irked him more than he was willing to admit. “I hope she sent the seamstresses every last pearl in our vault.”

“I think she might have.”

“You look divine.” Godric softed his hands over the strands of pearls capping Rosalyn’s shoulders. The cap sleeves looked like a warrior’s pauldrons, the bodice like a breastplate. He wore a strange expression.

“What?” Rosalyn laughed.

“What goddess am I sworn to? Who do I serve?”

“Oh, stop.”

He didn’t. In fact, he seemed quite serious. “You make everything better, Ros. Your magic is a mystery to me, one I accept wholeheartedly. Take me as your sacrifice. Perhaps one day you’ll reveal yourself, goddess of mine.”

Just as he was about to bite into his wrist, the green room door handle rattled. In a movement Rosalyn never saw, one of her seamless blades shot into the door as it opened. “Next one is through your heart,” Godric warned.

“Throw a knife at me again and your bride will be a widow.” A leggy Egyptian stood in the doorway, Sookie at his side. He started laughing.

“Seb,” Godric said in relief and quickly dropped Rosalyn’s skirt back to her ankles. He took his arm. “Apologies. I could have done with a knock.”

“You have much to celebrate. Congratulations.”

“I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve your generosity – “

“Nevermind that now. Your human insisted she speak with you. She was very crafty about it.”

Godric snapped his attention toward Sookie. “What is it?”

Sookie appeared rattled. “Sorry to interrupt ya’ll. It’s just…Bill Compton’s here. He brought a date. Sheriff Bellfleur’s sister?”

“Why is that creep at my wedding?” Rosalyn demanded.

“Sophie-Anne’s doing,” Godric said dismissively.

“Who is this Sheriff Bellfleur?” Seb asked. “What Area does he enforce?”

“Not vampire. A human police officer in Eric’s territory,” Godric clarified. “What’s your point, Miss Stackhouse?”

“Portia Bellfleur sounds ‘fuzzy’ tonight, if you catch my drift.”

Godric gave a slight shrug. “So she’s been glamoured. She’s with Bill. Are you surprised?”

“No. But I doubt he’d glamour her to get away from him at all costs so that she can lure Madame Rosalyn into a trap.”

A growl ripped from Godric’s throat. “Did you see who glamoured her?”

“No, but I can try to find out.”

“Come. Eric will help you.” Godric took Sookie by the elbow and slipped past Seb, leaving him standing alone with Rosalyn.

“What is she?” he asked calmly, blocking the exit.

Rosalyn struggled to find air. The ancient’s power felt like it could melt the paint off the brick walls. “She’s a business associate.”

He quirked an eyebrow, then let out a deep, rolling laugh. “She’s more than that. She’s not a witch.”

“No.”

Seb hummed. “She is precious enough that the Northman wanted me to watch over her. You will tell me,” he said, then added thoughtfully, “In time.” Before Rosalyn could mangle a reply, Godric returned. Seb gazed down his knife blade nose at him. “It strikes me that there is far more afoot tonight than you and your children have let on. I expect my pound of flesh, Blue One.”

Godric dipped his head. “Your price is fair. You will have it, gods willing.”

Rosalyn suspected they weren’t speaking in metaphors. Seb gestured at her. “I would ask one more thing of you.” Godric blanched and Rosalyn froze in dread. Seb took a silent step towards her. “Introduce me formally,” he demanded.

Godric sent Rosalyn a hair-raising shock of command. He pointed at the floor. Rosalyn curtsied deeply and held it. “Sebek of Thebes, Great Lord and First One, He of the Ancient Waters, Grand Vizier of Kemet, I present you with my consort and progeny, Rosalyn Euphrenia Murray.”

Seb gazed at her a long moment before telling her to rise. He held out a long-fingered hand. Trembling, she took it. He drew her close and inspected her upturned palm, running a thumb over its lines. “Turn for me? Slowly.” Rosalyn rotated, exposing her back. She felt Seb lean in and inhale her scent through the curtain of her hair. Just when she thought she might faint from terror, she was facing the ancient once more. Seb wore a warm expression in the creases of his face. “I welcome you to our ranks, Lady Rosalyn. Your maker honors us with his discriminating taste.” He tipped his head in consideration. “You did not tell me you were made to be a queen.”

Fear made Rosalyn bolder than was strictly wise. “I was made to be a consort, Lord Sebek. I’d ask that you never threaten my husband or my House again – not even as a joke.”

Seb’s mouth curled in appreciation. He reached down to the hem of Rosalyn’s veil and pulled it to his lips. “Never,” he swore and kissed it. Rosalyn was not sure what to say, so she curtsied again. Godric was round-eyed in shock. Seb asked for her hands, and when he took them, he spoke a prayer in his ancient tongue. He finished by placing a delicate kiss on the inside of each of her wrists. “Most Noble Lady Rosalyn, Beloved of Hathor, Mistress of Mirth, may the First Gods watch over you.” A shiver ran down Rosalyn’s spine at his honeyed, whispered words. He turned to Godric. “I approve.”

“You honor us, Great Lord!” Godric gasped and threw himself into a low bow. “May your name never be forgotten.”

Seb smiled and glanced back at Rosalyn. “Don’t let this young rascal drag you into too many of his schemes. You come to Old Seb when there’s trouble. I believe I’ll see whether the Northman has found your traitor.” The Egyptian slapped Godric on his shoulder and left them with a chuckle.

Rosalyn stared after him in bewilderment. Godric rose and dragged a hand over his mouth. What – ?” she began.

“He approved your turning,” Godric said, breathless.

“So I gathered.”

Godric shook his head. “You don’t understand. My elders all have the right to inspect you. But he’s given you his approval. Gods above. I did not expect that.”

“I thought he was going to kill us.”

Godric let out a tense laugh. That he did not contradict her spoke volumes. “That is some first impression you made.”

“So we’re okay?”

“Okay? I’d say.” Godric grabbed his sides and shook his head in wonder. “Sebek just blessed you and gave you your first titles. He has accepted you as an honorary daughter. You will have the protection of House Senusret all the days of your life.”

“That ancient vampire is, what, like my godfather?” she choked.

“Your guardian, yes,” he said gravely. “Exactly that.”

Pamela stuck her head in the green room. “There you two lovebirds are. Everyone is waiting for you out front.” Pam looked between them, then at the dagger in the door. Her tone dropped. “What happened?”

“Seb approved me,” Rosalyn said, shaken.

She froze, then gave Godric a stern look. “Did you try to stab him before or after he touched her?”

“Neither.” Godric shrugged. “It was a reflex. He opened the door.”

Pam pried the arrowhead-shaped blade out of the particle board. “Ros, one day you’ll have to tell me how the fuck you managed to win over the crocodile. You didn’t kill Thalia for him by any chance, did you?”

“No?” Rosalyn said.

“Huh.” She tossed the knife to her and Rosalyn snatched it from the air.

“It’s Neith,” Godric said, lost in thought. “The Queen must want her protected. That’s the only explanation.” He did not have time to ponder why.

“Well, at least our odds are looking better,” Pamela snickered and turned to leave.

“Pamela,” Godric said, in the tone that everyone feared. “Come here.” He opened his arms. Tentatively, she stepped into his embrace. She melted when he wrapped his arms around her. He held her for a long moment. “I am reminded of my duty to you, my lioness,” he whispered and kissed her cheek. “Whatever else happens, I want you to know how proud I am of you and how much I appreciate what you have done for us tonight. I did not think I would enjoy the pledging ceremony, yet here we are. It was magnificent. Thank you.”

“You’re gonna get blue all over me, grandsire,” she sniffed. Godric laughed silently and let her go with a smack to her bottom. Rosalyn dug a handkerchief out of her shapewear and passed it to Pam. The women jumped in fright at the sudden snick of Godric’s fangs. He held out his cupped palm.

“I…I haven’t earned it,” Pamela protested.

“That is for me and me alone to judge. Drink.” She took the offering hastily before the wound closed. When she finished, Godric told her to give him a few more minutes with Rosalyn.

Alone again, Godric kissed away the questions hanging in Rosalyn’s mouth. “No child of my House goes into battle unarmed. Now where were we?”

Chapter Text

The taste of Godric sliding down her throat should have been a comfort. Rosalyn found it only agitated her already overstimulated senses. Beyond the breezeway windows, nobles and emissaries from the far reaches of the world mingled over cocktails. The mood had decidedly shifted. Below the cordial nodding and bare-toothed smiles, the air vibrated dangerously with vampiric power. Ancient, beautiful creatures circled each other and gossiped in a pantomime of civility. Their bloodlust was barely restrained. An orgy or a fight – or more likely both – seemed imminent.

"This is madness," Rosalyn declared.

Godric did not contradict her. "It is necessary."

She eyed the growing receiving lines and pulled at the high collar of her pearl dress. She dreaded the draconian court protocol with its curtsies and stuffy forms of address. "Remind me again why agreeing to all this pomp and circumstance doesn't make me a massive hypocrite?"

"Because you're not playing to win at a game we know is rigged. You're rigging a game others think they are playing."

Rosalyn groaned. She really did not want to hear one of Godric's riddles tonight. He moved her briskly through the external hallway, a hand in the small of her back. "It sure doesn't look like we're pretending." She gestured at the dais set against the courtyard wall. "Do you want to explain to me why there are actual thrones up there for us?"

Godric smiled patiently. "They're just chairs."

"They had better be. Because I have no interest in -" Rosalyn stopped in her tracks and choked. Godric's command to keep their plans for Louisiana secret strangled her into silence. She hadn't known what he intended when he had issued the order. She still did not quite understand. "Do you…? Why…?" No matter how she tried, she could not ask about his reasons for manipulating key figures within the American vampire government.

Godric pulled her against a brick pillar, shielding them from view. "I enforce Texas Area Nine, nothing more. To suggest otherwise is treason." A shiver of command ran down her spine, refining her reaction to the topic of rule. "We cannot be too careful, love. My goal is simple. I'm trying to get out of this game without losing my hand in it."

She blinked and nodded. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I am very impressed." She had pieced together his tactics on her own – and quickly at that. He kissed her with real heat. "You're far better at this than Eric was at your age."

She poked him in the ribs. "I thought we weren't going to make those kinds of comparisons."

"Let me rephrase. It is a relief that I don't have to teach you to distrust status symbols and empty court gestures. The second you mistake a throne for real power or a groveling bow for a friend, you are truly dead."

"Trust me, Seb just gave me a crash course in real power and holy shit, Godric. Please tell me the other ancients aren't going to paw at me like a horse at auction."

"Not while we're on stage. But you must expect it." He pulled her wrist to his nose to double check that Seb's scent was washed from her.

"I thought I was going to pee blood I was so scared. Is that even possible?"

"No!" he snorted and clapped a hand over his mouth, surprised by his own reaction. "My adorable newborn. Gods, I had forgotten."

"I'm glad I amuse you."

He was still chuckling as he pulled her closer. "You do. But… when you stood up to Seb, I think you might have given me an aneurysm. Please, if you love me, don't risk that again. Ever. You let me do that."

At the courtyard entrance, they waited for King Tan and Isabelle to take their seats on the platform. Godric asked her twice to look over him and fix his bowtie. He fussed with the folds on his chieftain's sash and finessed hers as well. "You're extra cute when you're nervous," she said.

Godric ignored her and pushed a loose bobby pin back into her hair. "You know not to draw a weapon on anyone, right? Only if it's a life or death emergency. It carries a severe sentence."

She made a face. "Is that warning for me or you?" He was the one who had nearly trimmed the Egyptian Vizier's nose with a throwing knife.

"Acknowledge the order, please."

"Affirmative. I will try not to stab any royalty." She put her mouth to his ear. "You're not cute when you're nervous. I take it back. You're ridiculously sexy. You get all stern and hard."

"Rosalyn," he warned.

"Sire," she breathed, giving him a sultry look. "Show me what a big, bad maker you are later?"

He suppressed a smile. "Only if you are very, very good." He reviewed a few more rules of court with her to be on the safe side. "You might want to be extra polite with the delegates from Denmark," he added, trying to sound casual.

"Okay. Any particular reason?"

He cut his eyes at her. "I'm not making comparisons."

"But?"

"I can't help but be reminded of the last time I debuted a child at court. The Danes will no doubt recall as well."

"Oh good god. What did Eric do?"

"Not what Eric did." He sucked at his teeth. "What I did."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"I'd rather not say. I'm feeling a little superstitious."

The emcee was calling their names. The crowd turned to them in anticipation. She gave him a skeptical look. "You know what? Your way hasn't earned us many friends. Let's try to break that pattern, yes?"

"Agreed." He stole a kiss for good luck. They stepped out onto the grass, joined hands, and raised them high to the sound of cheers.

~OOO~

Guests passed through the ropes two and three at a time and handed their invitations to the herald at arms. Every time a card passed hands, Rosalyn found herself hoping the herald's announcement would be brief. The longer-winded the titles, the longer she and Godric were obliged to entertain the visitors with pleasantries. These first impressions were very important. The scrutiny and formality made her want to crawl out of her own skin. As if the pressure was not intense enough, Rosalyn was distracted by Eric and Sookie's progress across the lawn. They were trying to make their way toward Bill and his human date without drawing attention to themselves.

"-so fortunate, to be sure, don't you agree, Madame Rosalyn?" a woman was saying to her.

Rosalyn's attention snapped back into focus. Louisiana resident – she remembered that much. But she had no idea what the vampiress was saying. She smiled and bowed her head.

The woman gave her a bob and began fanning herself furiously. As she and her companion moved on to greet King Tan and Isabelle, Rosalyn heard her say "God's truth, Esmerelda, did you see? She bowed to me!"

Godric flicked a finger at the herald to hold the stream of guests and leaned over to whisper to her. "Tell me again that your status as consort is meaningless."

Rosalyn sighed. "I never thought I'd live to see myself celebrating my wedding with a grotesque display of inequality."

"Strictly speaking, you didn't live to see it."

"Real funny."

He settled back into his chair with a smirk. "Many here think you are special because your blood is ancient. They accord you privileges based on that perception."

"Classic vampire racism," she muttered.

Godric chuckled. "Yes. But you are not special because of your sire or your place on a family tree, are you?"

His pedantic tone annoyed her. He had been zinging her with his maker-mode one-liners all night. "Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, magic or no. You know that," she said.

"Precisely. We are made worthy by our actions, not our entitlements. You wish to use your rebirth and your position to promote mutual understanding and acceptance among all creatures. You want to smash the high walls we have built out of ignorance. Correct?"

She sat forward and studied him, unsure why he was stating the obvious. "Yes. And I hope that I can serve as an ally for those who struggle to be heard. Why?"

"That, Rosalyn, is why we are celebrating tonight, my pledged wife. And that is why you are my consort. You are reborn to us with hope in your heart and we adore you for it." He drew her knuckles to his mouth and gazed out towards the line with a sly smile. The younger guests burst into a round of clapping and whistling. Everyone at the ropes had been listening intently. Rosalyn's eyes widened in surprise. Godric had lured her into a conversation in order to make a public statement. Just like that, he had taught her the value of a public platform – and its dangers.

"This will only ever happen once," he told her quietly. "Learn to savor the rarities, my love." He cut her off before she could tease him for being a smug ass. "Do not say what you are thinking, young one."

She bit back a laugh. "Yes, Maker."

His nostrils flared in amusement and he called for the next person in line. They entertained their guests and Godric seemed to enjoy encountering old acquaintances - even when a number had been flagged as dangerous. His smile grew wide when the Queen of Ireland and her plus one were announced. They stepped forward.

"Maeve the King's daughter and the old devil himself," Godric said, sounding scandalized. Maeve laughed heartily at his dismissive tone. The man at her side nodded in greeting. He was Maeve's maker. "How are you, Maelcon?" Godric asked him.

"I go by Malcolm these days," he said in a thickly burred English. "And I've nae held a kingdom for an age, as you good and well bloody know."

Godric leaned toward Rosalyn. "He's warden of a few wind-swept rocks that he looks after for me in the Isles."

"You have property in Scotland?" she said.

Malcolm answered. "An entire island, milady. Vampire Population – One." Rosalyn stifled a laugh. She suspected the lack of company suited him fine. "Perhaps ye'll come home for Bealltainn, m'laird?"

Godric snorted. "I'm not halfway done with this extravaganza and you want me to hold a fire feast for you? You always were a greedy bastard." Malcolm exploded in heavy, bouncing laughter and Godric joined in. Rosalyn was positively charmed.

"Shall I lock him away for you?" Maeve asked. Her flame-red hair swayed about her torso.

"Not tonight." Godric shook his head. He and his two allies wafted in and out of an Old Gaelic patois as they spoke. "Maeve, I hear nothing but excellent things out of Ireland. Your peace treaty with the witches was clever statecraft. You bring honor to your maker and House."

"I thank ye, Godric. You taught me well," she said.

Malcolm heartily agreed. "'Tis a fine thing she has done. 'Tis even finer to see you honoring the old ways, a Rí Gorm." The Blue King. He nodded at Godric's apparel and the paint on his face.

"Wedding gifts, from my wife."

"Is that so?" Malcolm turned to Rosalyn and grew very serious. He studied her carefully. "We only know ye as a reformer." The accusation fouled the air with its dirty word. Rosalyn blinked in alarm. She had not considered that some vampires might find her threatening. And here Malcolm was an ally. A hush spread rapidly through the crowd as they waited for her reply.

Rosalyn reached over and took Godric's hand. "There are ancient things that must be guarded at all costs, Malcolm of the Isles."

Malcolm pulled his cap from his head and bowed. "The blessings of Brigid keep you, Róisín Bean Goðrík. I'd kiss your skirt but my Queen is here."

Maeve made a joke about his fickle loyalty and just as quickly, all was well. Rosalyn sat back in relief. She had passed some crucial trial.

~OOO~

Weaving through the guests, Eric could smell the rat otherwise known as Bill Compton. He was some twenty yards away. He elbowed through clusters of partygoers holding tightly to Sookie's hand. He kept his eyes forward, avoiding Sookie's distracting figure. Pamela had poured her into a blue dress that matched her eyes.

He did not make it more than a few yards before another invitee stopped him to talk. Everyone wanted to know about Rosalyn – and how she had come to be his bonded mate. Their curiosity and envy would have been entertaining if it wasn't hindering him from reaching his ne'er do well subject.

"Who's the snack?" a minor princess from Babylon asked, her voice dripping with condescension. She was not the first of Eric's former flings to misdirect her ire at Sookie.

"I am a person and I have a name, miss," Sookie said. Her breasts heaved as she huffed in defiance. Eric smirked at his blonde sidekick. There was no denying that he wanted her. The more his family tried to warn him off her, the more enticing she seemed. But he had made Rosalyn a promise to wait until they could talk more. He would honor that promise fiercely, no matter how much he wanted to hear Sookie moan his name.

"Zakiti, meet my quality control advisor." He leaned down to Sookie's level. "What do you think, Ms. Stackhouse. Does Zakiti pass muster?" Sookie harrumphed and he raised an eyebrow. "Guess not. Excuse us."

"In a rush, I see," Zakiti said. "Does your mistress keep your chain so short that you have to sneak your meals now? Or has she cut your balls off completely?"

"Ask her yourself – if you dare." He pushed past her.

"What was with her?" Sookie resisted his tug on her arm. "Are all these angry women your ex-girlfriends?"

"They wish. Why? Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Sookie huffed. "You don't strike me as a one-woman kind of man."

"How would you know? It's not nice to make assumptions, Sookie Stackhouse."

"Oh, well. You just seem…"

"What do I seem?" He towered over her. The view from above was spectacular. He wanted to dive between those ample curves and keep going.

A shadow darkened her shoulder. A familiar voice greeted him. "Northman."

Eric's instincts took over. He bit into his thumb and spun Sookie behind his back by the neck. It took every last ounce of Eric's discipline not to attack. "High Counselor."

Roman's amber eyes trailed over the figure half-hidden by Eric's frame. "Miss Stackhouse, I presume." Sookie held her chin high. Eric kept his arm firmly fastened around her. He was ready to rocket into the sky at a moment's notice. Roman's nostrils flared. A shimmer of Eric's blood streaked across Sookie's neck. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. May I say you are more ravishing in person than I dreamed."

"Thanks," she said, confused by Roman's impeccable European manners.

He was middle-aged, with gleaming silver hair and knife blade cheekbones that rivaled Eric's. His features were not decisively Scandinavian. He bore no resemblance to anyone, from anyplace, at anytime. It made his modern comportment all the more unsettling. "I was hoping to have news of your great grandfather."

Sookie plastered on a smile. "You and me both. Niall's never sent me so much as a birthday card, so I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Family can be complicated, it is true." He spoke slowly and deliberately, savoring the creep of time. He turned his sharp eyes to Eric. "It is a shame when diplomatic negotiations suffer because of kin. I trust the Ambassador will contact me when he has word from the Prince?"

Eric quivered in fury. "Amleth will be sorry to have missed you."

"It is very odd that he has not attended tonight's celebrations."

"Maker's business," was all he offered in explanation.

"I see." Roman nodded thoughtfully. "Your Pamela is coming along. You wouldn't want to be one of those ridiculous makers who smothers his fledged progeny for a thousand years." He smiled venomously. "It's high time to turn another, no?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Eric retorted. He looked meaningfully at Sookie, then back at Roman.

Roman's gaze lingered on the blood mark on Sookie's neck before wandering back to the Viking. "You will not defile an asset of the High Council."

"She's not your asset." Sookie's nails dug into Eric's side.

"Yet," Roman countered. "Niall has all but agreed."

"Which is another way of saying that he hasn't agreed to anything."

"Northman," he said, clucking his tongue. "Duty compels me to prevent you from jeopardizing our peace with the Fae. It is forbidden to turn one of theirs. You are too young to remember the wars fought over such matters."

"Oh, I remember plenty."

"Then you'll have no trouble remembering this: you are hereby summoned to appear before the Council with Miss Sookie Stackhouse – alive and breathing - before the year's end."

"Lucky me." Eric snorted.

A screech from Bill Compton interrupted their standoff. "Set me down!" Bill's legs pinwheeled in the air. Seb dumped him in a heap at Eric's feet and shoved a short human woman forward. "Is this what you were looking for?"

"It is. Thank you, Lord Seb." Eric smiled at Roman. "A Sheriff's duties are never done. Excuse us."

Sebek crossed his arms and stood his ground, daring Roman to follow them.

"The year's end, Northman," Roman reminded him.

~OOO~

Rosalyn was meeting Isabelle's maker, King Antonio, when Eric tugged at her through their connection. It took only a brief scan to find him. Eric always stood out in a crowd. He jutted his chin at the line. Rosalyn could not see what he was trying to point out.

Godric set a hand on hers, entirely relaxed, and recaptured her attention. "We are both sad to see Isabelle leave us," he told Antonio, "but we look forward to the wonderful things she will achieve with California. Isabelle is a credit to your bloodline and a cherished friend." Godric spoke affably a few minutes longer until Antonio took his leave of them. Godric's hand tightened on Rosalyn's in warning. Four guests in, she spotted her. The pile of dark curls on her head was unmistakable. Thea of Athens was waiting for her turn.

Godric powered through the guests with more charm than he had previously mustered. When the herald announced Thea, Godric's iron grip became painful. His bond snarled red while his face remained a mask of calm. Rosalyn was not sure what came over her. "Athens?" she said brightly, turning to her husband. "Oh, I've heard such amazing things about Athens."

The grimace that slid over Godric's mouth was positively reptilian. "Yes, my love. We ought to visit."

Rosalyn turned to Thea. "Thank you for coming such a long way. I trust the journey wasn't too daunting?"

The statuesque woman demurred. "You are kind to think of my comfort, my Lady. It was most pleasant."

"Tell me, is it true that the Parthenon does not allow visitors at night?" Rosalyn hoped her voice did not betray the panic in her gut.

"Only humans cannot be trusted to deface our monuments," she said, her distaste plain. "Guests of my city are welcome to tour all of the historic sites at their leisure. Have you travelled much in Europe?"

Rosalyn had no idea what information she should or should not give away. Godric, by some miracle, trusted himself to speak. He moved terrifyingly slowly, as if unaware of the passage of time. "She has not seen the Old World with new eyes. Isn't that what matters?"

Thea gave a tinkling laugh. "Too true."

Godric narrowed his laser-like gaze on her. "Your sisters have not yet greeted us."

"Sonia will be by shortly, I'm sure. She must be enjoying your generous refreshment table."

"And Calla?" Godric asked, not hiding the coldness in his voice.

"I could hardly leave my territory unattended. She sends her heartiest congratulations."

"You have held Athens for ages. Why do you not have reliable underlings?"

She blinked. "I am served well."

"Then I am insulted that Calla has not troubled herself to join us. A night is nothing. Surely your little town doesn't generate so much work as needs a thousand year old vampiress to keep it running overnight."

"You would be surprised," she replied, cool as ice. She gave a weak nod of the head and turned her back.

"I have not dismissed you, Thea Tarquinii!" Godric hissed.

She pivoted. "Forgive me, Godric Deathbringer. I did not wish to bore your wife with trivial matters of state."

Godric clenched the armrests of the throne and dropped his gaze at her. In Rosalyn's peripheral vision, Eric was shoving through the crowd toward them. She had to do something – and fast. "I am not bored by politics, Thea. On the contrary. I have a lot to learn as consort. Do you have any advice as matriarch of your bloodline?"

"Yes, I do." A cruel smile crept over her features. "Kill the disobedient."

~OOO~

"They know." It was the first thing out of Eric's mouth when he finally reached them. He took his seat next to Rosalyn. Godric had not moved an inch since allowing Thea to walk away alive. He sat frozen, waves of thundering power rolling off him.

Eric kissed Rosalyn's cheek and used her face as a shield from the audience's prying eyes. He rapidly relayed what Sookie had discovered. With the help of his glamour, the telepath had dug through Portia Bellfleur's head and seen the face of the vampiress who had approached her. After some hunting, Sookie had pointed her out. Thea's youngest sister, Sonia, had glamoured Bill's human to lead Rosalyn into a blind alley behind the palace. She had foolishly grabbed the first human she had seen, not realizing that she had picked the one human of the handful present that Sookie was most likely to notice.

"Where is she now?" Godric asked, switching to Old Gaelic.

"Seb ate her."

Rosalyn's fangs dropped in shock. She wasn't able to follow much in the language, but she understood that. She called for an attendant to bring her a drink, hoping to make their coded discussion appear ordinary. Eric and Godric continued their rapid-fire exchange in near inaudible voices.

"What was Seb able to glean?" Godric asked.

"That they fucking know. We've been compromised."

Godric stared at the sea of guests. "We expected them to come prepared for an attack. Go to Plan B. Tell Seb to join Team One. I'll lead them myself. Send Russell with Team Two."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Maker. They know our Plan B. You can't grab them at the airfields. They choppered in from god knows where. They didn't ping on air traffic control's radar."

Godric's expression remained unchanged. "Their helicopters have to touch down somewhere. We'll take them then. What's Stan's sitrep?"

"We're three for three on the other counselors."

"Excellent."

"Aren't you concerned how Thea got this intel?"

Godric slid his eyes at Eric. "I think you know very well how she got it."

Eric did not have patience for his maker's instructive bullshit. They obviously had a mole inside their nest working for Thea. "Who do you suspect?" he demanded.

"You know who I suspect."

Eric laughed. Then he paled and blinked. His maker was serious. "That's…that's inconceivable. No, Godric. Amleth would never have helped his sisters. Never." He shot to his feet. "He'd never betray us for them. Never. They murdered his maker, for fuck's sake!"

"Child, you need to learn to recognize when a situation exceeds your worst nightmare." Eric stared at him in disbelief. "Recall Pamela and Sookie to your side and ready my teams."

Eric stumbled backwards off the dais in a daze. People were staring. "Too much supermodel," Rosalyn joked and the guests laughed off Eric's behavior. Rosalyn leaned over to Godric for a translation. "There's no way I understood that correctly."

"Do not leave my side," he said mildly. "They may yet try to take you."

"But why? Why on earth would they want me? It's a death sentence if they touch me now."

The question gave him pause. Godric's brow furrowed and he swore. "It's a diversion."

"For?"

"Let's not wait to find out." He took her hand and stood briskly. "Good people, I find I cannot possibly wait another moment to claim my bride."

~OOO~

Within minutes Godric had extracted his family from the palace. He sped through the streets at crazed speeds, blasting through stoplights. "What about Isabelle?" Rosalyn said.

"She is Queen. She has her own security in place. Tan will protect her."

Sookie let out a yelp. The three women in the backseat jostled and elbowed each other as they frantically changed out of their dresses.

"God dammit, Pam! I can't get out of this shapewear." Rosalyn struggled with the spandex stuck around her hips.

"You're a vampiress. Act like one." She reached over and grabbed the top of the garment and shredded it. Sookie started laughing nervously and Rosalyn joined in.

Eric did not so much as glance at the rearview mirror for the free peep show in back. "Pipe down," he growled at them from the front seat. He tossed his tux over his shoulder and Pam stuffed it into the duffel bag with their gowns. Godric took a hard right and careened around a blaring ambulance. He slammed the SUV to a stop outside the ER of a university hospital.

"Out," he ordered. He changed on the sidewalk in plain view of agog nurses and patients.

"Hey! You can't park that here!" A security guard jogged up.

Godric inhaled the man's scent. "Guard it. By order of the Queen."

The guard looked around to check that he was out of earshot. "I don't run with that pack, man." Godric's fangs slammed down and the man's hands went up. "We're cool, fella. We good. Give me the keys. I'll just move it over there." He pointed to an empty ambulance bay and Godric chucked the keys at him. He climbed into the vehicle muttering "Testy motherfuckin' fangers."

"Keep it if we don't come back," Rosalyn whispered and waved him away from Godric's blast radius.

"Update Stan with our coordinates," Godric told Eric.

"Already done. They're a minute and a half behind us." Eric touched the radio in his ear. He was receiving a steady stream of information.

Godric stormed inside the hospital past the intake counselors and glass partitions to the officer at the security door. "Open it," he said in a glamour. The man swiped his card and Godric took it from him. They proceeded directly to the elevator bay. Godric hit the button for the top floor and swiped the card for clearance.

The elevator car ascended one floor, dinged, and opened its doors. An old man wobbled on a walker in front of them. "Down?" he asked loudly.

"Next one, pudding," Pamela said. Sookie waved and the codger waved back, delighted.

"ETA," Godric asked.

Eric repeated the request to his earpiece. He paused, then reported. "72 seconds." The elevator dinged again to stop and he groaned.

"Roman's position?"

"Eagle eyes, checking in." Another team member on the radio filled Eric in. "He's strolling down Decatur with Thea towards Jackson Square. Maeve and Maelcon are tailing them."

"You let them leave the palace?" Rosalyn said in disbelief.

Godric's mouth pinched into a firm line. "Do you or do you not care about the success of the Great Revelation?"

"Well, I mean -"

"Yes or no," he demanded.

"Yes."

"Then that is why I ordered my people to stand down." He glanced at the CCTV camera in the elevator car and turned his back, gesturing for her to do the same. "Sonia's threat to you was likely a cover for them to slip out. Plan A was to extract them surgically, but they were expecting us. If we tried to take them at the exits by force, there would have been a battle on the streets of the French Quarter and the Revelation -"

"Would have been fucked," Eric supplied. "Along with Isabelle's hold on the kingdom and her head."

Rosalyn sighed. "At least we got Sonia." Eric and Godric were silent. "We did get Sonia, right?"

Godric shrugged. "They used her as bait because she was expendable to them."

"You let her walk? What about Amleth!"

Eric glanced over his shoulder. "Seb drained Sonia to read her thoughts, Ros. There wasn't anything left for Amleth. We're going after Roman and Thea now."

"She's dead?" Rosalyn cried.

"You don't interrogate someone that way and let them live, baby girl," Eric said. "It's a capital-offense blood crime, nevermind that you'd be fucking bonded to someone you'd tortured."

"Seb killed her." She swallowed. "For me. Because of me."

"One down," Godric said, his expression stony.

The elevator dinged and a nurse tried to roll in a corpse. "Abso-fucking-lutely not." Pam grabbed the stretcher's footrail. "Get. Out." She hissed and shoved the body back out and slammed the close door button. "Does this thing not have an express mode?"

On the rooftop, Rosalyn understood why Godric had taken them to a hospital. Two emergency service helicopters sat warmed up and waiting. In the breakroom of the deck, an unsuspecting pilot sat in an orange jumpsuit. Godric snatched the headset off his head and glamoured him to finish his sandwich and go home.

"Don't sick people need the airlift more?" Sookie asked as Eric helped her climb in.

Eric chuckled. "We're dead, princess. You don't get sicker than that."

Godric initiated the engine and Seb, Russell, and Stan loaded in shortly after. They were suited up in tactical gear, weapons primed. Eric sat opposite of Rosalyn, a terrified Sookie glued to his side. "What do I do?" Rosalyn asked him. The aircraft lurched forward and took to the sky. She reached up for a radio headset and Eric shook his head at her.

"You forget you are mine." His bond crackled with distress. She left the headset on its clip. "Wait for Godric's orders." They peeled out to the northwest, keeping low on the horizon. Eric spun his head toward the cockpit. "They are heading due south," he reminded their maker.

"And I'm going to the airfield," Godric replied. Their flow of thoughts devolved into a snarl of bickering Rosalyn could not follow. Within ten minutes, Godric touched down at the edge of the private airport where they had landed on the outskirts of New Orleans. He ordered Eric and the women out, snapping at Eric to guide them a safe distance from the churning helicopter blades. "Open the hangar doors but don't start flight pre-check until my signal. Keep the lights out. I don't want anyone aware that we're about to run." He handed the pilot headset to Stan, who took the captain's chair. The whine of the engine picked up.

Eric spoke into his earpiece briefly to confirm what he was hearing. "Maeve's got a lock on Roman and Thea," he shouted back at Godric. "They're both in the same chopper heading south. Bayou country, Maker. No one will see. This is our chance."

Godric hung out of the cargo hold by the door. "Ready the aircraft."

He looked at Rosalyn, then back at his maker. "You're leaving me behind? You'll have no one to watch your back!"

"Who are they, then?" He jerked his head at the men behind him.

"They're allies who can't fucking fly! Pam can do pre-check and -"

"Fall back, Eric. That's an order!" The whine of the helicopter drowned out Godric's voice.

"Godric, you have to get Thea. No matter what. You have to. I don't care what you think Amleth has done."

Rosalyn shoved at Eric. "Go with him, for god's sake! Don't let him out of your sight."

Eric hesitated. He bit his lip hard and stared between his maker and Rosalyn. Godric dropped out of the aircraft and charged toward his children, fists balled. When he reached Eric, he smacked him flat across the face. "Snap out of it! Your bonded, your child, and a Brigant princess are all relying on you to guard them. I command you! Confirm the plane is secure and fueled and wait for my call." He turned to Rosalyn, blazing with fury. "You know your command. Submit to Eric's protection - and don't you dare contravene my orders again. This is war." He turned his back and ran full speed at the helicopter, leaping in as it was lifting off.

He turned back in time to see Rosalyn mouth a tearful "I love you." Godric touched his hand to his heart as he soared upwards. The aircraft soon became an orange and white speck against the sky. She turned to Eric and put a cool hand on his reddened cheek. "Are you okay?"

~OOO~

Eric dug his earpiece from his ear and chucked it violently against the control console of the Gulfstream. He slouched over, elbows planted on his knees. They had been sitting in the dark for an hour with only the sound of Sookie's breathing to fill the silence.

"Please tell us what is going on," Rosalyn begged.

He looked up at her lazily. He did not want to explain that their comms had gone down half an hour ago. He did not want to share that Godric had mentally blocked him. "Can't you tell when your maker is coming to you?" he said instead.

Several minutes later, Pam stood up in the cabin in alarm. "Oh, fuck a zombie."

Godric stood in the doorway of the hangar, shirtless, bloodied, and alone. He disappeared below the nose of the aircraft and they began to roll forward. Eric lit up the control panel and began hitting switches. When they had cleared the building and turned on the tarmac, Godric tossed the plane's tow bar aside. He had taxied them outside with the brute strength of a single arm. He rematerialized at the cabin door, covered in unhealed wounds and reeking of swamp mud. Eric bumped over to the co-pilot's chair and thrust an arm at him. Godric bit into Eric hard. He fed voraciously while starting the engines.

"Casualties?" Eric asked.

Godric pulled off the bite with a slurp. "Seb and Maeve made it out injured. Stan and Maelcon met the true death." Rosalyn cried out. He looked over his shoulder at her. "They died bravely." His voice was thickly accented from bloodlust and the Gaelic he had been using with his friends.

"Oh my god, Godric. I'm so sorry." Rosalyn pushed Eric aside and wrapped her arms around him. He hissed as she brushed the gashes on his back. She realized some of the wounds were round. "You're not healing."

"Silver bullets," Eric explained. "He'll heal once they're out."

"Can I help?" Sookie asked. She set down her handbag and half stood.

Godric licked his lips and shielded his eyes with his lashes. "No, little one. Stay in the back." Eric offered his arm again. Godric fed deeply, growling into the crook of Eric's elbow. He held him close by the back of his neck. After a moment, Godric winced, gave up on the arm, and sunk his teeth straight into Eric's throat.

Rosalyn's fangs dropped at the sight. Godric moaned and Eric's eyes rolled back into his head. Pam quickly grabbed Rosalyn's wrist in a firm grip. "Sookie, go to the back of the plane," she said. Sookie started to speak. "This instant. Walk. Don't run."

Something heavy and wet thudded on the rubber floor. Godric stretched and more bullets fell from him. They were enormous rounds. Eric shook his head in disgust. "Machine gun. Great. You used yourself to give the EMT chopper cover?"

"We only had one chance to board them." Godric's wounds began closing. He glanced back at Rosalyn to make sure she had regained control of herself and she sheepishly found somewhere else to stare. Deeming it safe to fly, he lined the plane up on the runway, dropped the flaps, and hit the throttle forward. They tore down the airfield with an incredible roar.

"Where's that son of a bitch Russell?" Pam said.

Godric banked them towards Dallas and set a few controls. "Russell got taken out of the fight early. Seb and he managed to board, but Roman chucked him out of the cargo hold at 12,000 feet."

"Jesus. He survived?" Rosalyn said.

"I caught him and gave him a soft landing. By the time Seb and I took down their chopper, we were too far south for him to catch up. We barely got her down before we hit open sea."

"And Stan?" Eric asked. He was desperately trying to understand how they had failed.

"Touched down in the bayou with Maeve, Maelcon, and the weres we picked up en route." He shook his head. "The young ones didn't stand a chance."

"Maeve did," Eric said angrily.

Godric glared at him. "I ordered her out of the fight when Maelcon fell."

"How did he fall?" he demanded quietly.

"Thea decapitated him with her bare hands."

Eric bowed his head. He closed his eyes. "How did she escape you?"

"Seb and I are lucky to be alive. It was a vicious fight. Seb's a bureaucrat, not a warrior."

"How!" Eric bellowed.

Godric looked at him miserably. "They can fly, Eric."

Eric let out a shocked breath. They had expected Roman to have hidden powers. Little was known about him. "How is it possible Thea can fly? Tarquin didn't have the gift of flight. None of his children have shown an aptitude for it. "

Godric shrugged. He had no explanation. Pamela chimed in. "Why the hell didn't they just take the sky in the first place?"

Rosalyn stiffened. "Diversion."

"She's right," Godric said.

~OOO~

Godric approached the estate warily. Caleb waved at the van from the guard house. "Congratulations to the happy couple!" Caleb's grin faded when Godric lowered the window. His boss was half-nude and bloodied.

"Any trouble?" Godric asked, discretely sniffing the air.

"None at all."

"Let me see your logs."

Caleb passed him the log book. Godric flipped the page back one, glanced over the entries, then flipped the page forward. "Looks standard. No alarms?"

"Negative."

"Anyone request entry?"

"No, sir."

"Any suspicious vehicles?"

"None."

"Alright. Stay alert." Godric passed the log book back to him and continued past the gate up the driveway.

Godric proceeded with caution at the front door. He squatted down and checked the locks and the frame for tampering. Eric entered the estate first and cleared the corners of the foyer with its pendulous wagon wheel chandelier. Godric disarmed the alarm system. He scrolled through the log-ins. Nothing jumped out at him as out of place. At no time had the perimeter come down. The house was quiet.

"Mabel?" he called out. He had left his young underling in charge with a skeleton crew chosen from his retinue. Godric figured if the woman had been capable of building tanks and shooting Nazis at eighteen, house-sitting at eighty years undead would be easy. They made their way through the sitting rooms towards the common areas. Rosalyn suddenly grabbed Godric's arm in shock. He froze. "I smell it too. Everyone stop."

"It's like the other house. It's exactly the same," Rosalyn said. A strange stale chemical smell permeated the air.

"Everyone out. Now," Godric ordered.

Pamela grabbed Sookie and Rosalyn and they ran back to the van. Eric remained at Godric's side. "Don't you even fucking cut your eyes at me," Eric said. "I've had enough of your shit tonight. If we're going down, we're going together."

Godric dropped his head. Power pulsed through the house.

"What the hell was that?" Eric said.

"Echo-location." He frowned. "Something's not right."

"Bomb?"

He swallowed. "No…I don't think so."

"There's no way the Fellowship got past the alarms."

Godric licked his lips. "We're missing people."

"How many?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"The chemical masks scent."

"Yes," Godric said.

Eric drew his sword. Godric eased around the corner to the living room. His shoulders slumped. Blood was spattered across the walls and ceiling. "Mabel," he said. Her polka dot dress was in the densest part of the mess.

"Gods. I couldn't smell it until I was on it." Eric moved in a flash to the opposite wall. He peeked his head out to check the hall. "We've got glass on the ground. They came through the garden."

Godric hissed. He should have known. The log-ins were on the inner courtyard. His stomach dropped as he recalled where else they had occurred.

Eric slipped down the hallway and rolled against the busted doorframe to the garden. "Your god damn weres aren't on the roofline, Godric. Caleb was glamoured."

Godric's fists curled in rage. He sped down the hallway to the jail. The security panel appeared normal. He coded in and flew down the stairs. There was nothing hiding the scents down here.

The inside of Godric's jail was carnage.

Eric raced to catch up with his maker and slipped on the viscera splattered on the floor. He slid and grabbed the wall to catch himself. At least four of Godric's retinue members had been staked down there, judging by the blighted remains. They had put up a valiant fight. Signs of a violent confrotation were everywhere. "How did the intruder bypass the alarm?" he said. "Better yet, why did none of your people trip it?"

Godric did not venture a guess. He coded through the second security door to the holding cells. Eva and Constantine were huddled together, sobbing and shaking and covered in their own blood tears, but otherwise untouched.

"Oh fuck," Eric breathed and lowered his sword.

The last jail cell was covered in the blackened, viscous ooze of demon blood. It scalded the paint off the concrete walls where it dripped. Derek Ronwe had been murdered. Across the corridor, Amleth's cell door stood ajar. His body was gone and his blood pump lay smashed on the floor.

Chapter Text

Amleth was gone. His spicy musk lingered in the jail, tinged a sickening sweet from decay. Not even the reek of adrenaline and death could overpower his scent entirely. Godric stood in the middle of Amleth's empty cell, staring at the smashed blood pump on the floor. His powerful shoulders rose and fell in a jagged rhythm. He had started breathing unconsciously. Godric never breathed out of reflex.

Eric switched his sword into his left hand and took a silent step backwards. Then another. "We can track him. We'll find him." It was a desperate lie. They could not smell a thing upstairs. There wasn't a scent inside the jail they did not recognize.

Eva thumped at the glass wall of her cell. "Please," she begged. "Go after him! Amla won't survive another night without us."

Constantine folded her into his arms and shushed her. "They didn't believe us before. They aren't going to help us now."

Godric turned slowly on his heel, panting in a berserker rage. Eric crouched and put an unarmed hand up. "Godric, stop and think." Godric snarled an inhuman sound. "Woah, shit!" Eric yelped and jumped back. "Okay. That's how we're gonna do it? Alright." He positioned himself in front of Eva and Constantine's cell door. "You're going to have to go through me to get to them. We need them for questioning. Stop and think."

Godric roared. All three younger vampires cowered in terror. Eric pulled himself back up, blood trickling out of his right ear. The sound had burst his eardrum. "Start talking, kids! What happened?"

"It was two men," Constantine said. "Masked. Medium build. One was 5'9, the other 5'11. They killed Ronwe and took Amleth's body."

"Clothes, details, anything that stood out," Eric demanded.

Godric spoke in the hollow voice of Death. "They have been commanded. They are useless to us."

"Is that true? Have you been commanded?" Eric asked. Eva and Constantine vehemently denied it. He changed the question slightly. Makers often ordered their children to conceal the command itself. "Did Amleth walk out of here on his own steam?"

"No," Constantine retorted, appalled. "You smell him. He's a day away from true death if that." Godric bent down and examined the biometric lock on Amleth's cell door. "They had your key code," Constantine told him.

"Impossible," Godric said.

Eva explained. "It was the shorter one who unlocked everything. He used the keypad."

Godric sniffed the keypad and inspected it from an angle. "You lie."

"This is your fault!" Constantine slammed a fist against his enclosure. "All of this has been your fault. Check the logs and then tell me I'm lying, you fucking psycho!"

Godric moved faster than anyone could trace. Eric felt a breeze and a sudden push of pressure at his side and a pop. A powerful spray of glass exploded over Constantine and Eva. Godric had run straight through the bullet-proof partition. He had Constantine pinned against the wall by the throat, his tongue pinched between two fingers. Godric cocked his head. "I warned you about your tongue." Costas choked and kicked his legs in terror. Godric whipped his head at Eva, eyes blazing. "Talk, or he loses it."

Eva huddled in the shattered debris, violently shivering. Eric kicked out the sagging remains of the partition. "Talk!" he barked at her.

"1:45 a.m. Two men entered. They executed Ronwe, then went straight for Amleth. Your people slowed them at the exit. They were out by 2 a.m."

"Vampire? Demon? Fae? What were they?" Godric demanded. Constantine tried to speak and Godric squeezed his throat harder.

"I don't know. We don't know anything!" Eva cried. "Please, Godric, don't kill him!"

"Kill him?" He laughed cruelly and threw Constantine to the ground like a rag doll. Something snapped as he landed and he belted out a cry. Godric tutted at Eva and her brother. "You won't get quick deaths from me, you tender little things. You ought to be far more worried that you'll be alive for what I'm going to do to you."

Godric stalked towards Constantine and he scuttled frantically backwards, dragging his leg. Godric leaned down into his face. "Your sister says you know 'nothing'. Nothing is a very poor cover for knowing plenty. You two would know that if I'd had a hand in raising you. Pity that I didn't. You'll learn now. Start singing." He placed a foot on Constantine's broken ankle and Constantine wailed in pain.

"Vampire!" Eva sobbed. "They moved like vampires. But we couldn't smell them."

"It's true," Constantine said. He grabbed desperately at Godric's pants cuff. Godric stamped down and he howled in agony. "They knew exactly what they wanted! They didn't hesitate!"

"What did they say to you?" Godric barked.

"Nothing!"

"A lie. Learn faster, Costas." Godric pressed harder.

"Nothing!" he screamed. "They looked at us but said nothing!"

"Ah, so they looked. That's more than nothing, isn't it, my pretty little liar?" Constantine scratched wildly through the rubble for something with which to defend himself. He filled his hands with pebbles of glass. Godric leaned into his weight. "Throw that and you'll lose your hands along with your foot."

"They're witnesses, Godric, not suspects," Eric reminded him.

"Only a fool would believe that," Godric sneered.

"The intruders were fully masked in SWAT gear," Eva offered. "They wouldn't talk to us. We tried. Please, let us out! We'll help you find them."

"You need us, Godric," Constantine sobbed. "Release us."

"Release?" Godric said. He turned the word in his mouth as if it was foreign. "You and your maker have infiltrated my House and brought ruin to my doorstep. Release is the very last thing I'll grant you." The ancient grabbed Constantine by his dark hair, then snatched Eva up by a twist of her white blond mane, and dragged them out of their cell down the corridor.

"Maker…" Eric warned.

"Stand down," Godric said, his tone frighteningly quiet.

"Maker!" Eric repeated sharply.

Godric turned with a command boiling in his mouth and Eric loosed a cry through his blood. Godric stilled. "You did not just do what I think you did."

"You're off the fucking rails."

"You will regret this."

Eric held his chin high. "But you'll regret it first."

Footsteps pounded through the house above them. They heard Rosalyn gasp when she encountered the interrogation block of the jail. She unlocked the inner security door to the holding cells, sliding on the bloody floor under its weight. She stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance. She and Godric stared at each other for a long, tense moment.

She finally nodded in understanding. "You're having some trouble here, aren't you, love?" Godric was breathing again, this time to scent her. "We're not secure here anymore, are we?" Godric shook his head. He looked like a lost little boy, covered in gore, standing in the midst of murder. "Okay," she said. "Let's get somewhere safe. How much time before sunrise?"

"Two and a half hours," Eric supplied. "You'll be down in two."

She stepped nimbly through the disaster, pausing to rattle the sealed door of an empty cell. When she reached Godric, she set a hand on his chest. "You've been in a bad fight. Let me clean this up, yeah?" She stroked his shoulders gently. "It's alright. You can let your grandchildren go now. They're going to walk into that cell themselves if they know what's good for them."

Godric dropped the two prisoners and palmed the cell door open for her. Eva grabbed Constantine and they scrambled into the cell. Godric walked out, squelching through dead vampire remains. He paused and looked back at Rosalyn over his shoulder. His expression was deadly. "You will learn, young mistress, that acts of mercy are a vanity. You indulge in them only to delay your suffering. And mark my words, you will suffer for your mercy."

Rosalyn swallowed. "Michael was here. Can you please check on him? Then sit down and figure out where we're going to go to ground. I'll be up shortly." Godric evaporated from the spot where he stood without a word or a nod.

"'Your grandchildren'?" Eric quoted. "Where the fuck did you learn to negotiate like that?"

Constantine was feeding from Eva to heal. He paused, flexed his ankle, and winced. "Thank you, Rosalyn."

"Don't thank me yet," she said.

"You're a saint," Eva insisted.

Rosalyn blew a tense breath between her teeth. "I am the bloodchild of Godric. I wouldn't get ahead of yourselves." Eric's expression subtly morphed from surprise, to pride, to a rush of desire. "Please tell me I'm not standing in Amleth," she said to him.

Eric shook his head slowly. "He was taken. Two unidentified male culprits, if we believe the Bobbsy Twins here."

She looked around, baffled. "But why?"

Eric glanced uneasily at the prisoners. "It was an extraction."

"You think…?" She did not dare say more in front of Constantine and Eva. Godric suspected Amleth of defecting to his sister's side. Rosalyn had thought it impossible, given Thea's crimes against their maker, but Amleth's absence was damning. "Rescue? Or cleaning up loose ends?" she asked instead.

Eric's expression was stony. "We'll know more if he's not dead tomorrow."

Rosalyn swore colorfully. She gestured at the cell in the back of the jail. A crystalline demon-shaped husk lay curled on the ground. "Ronwe?" Eric nodded. She palmed her face. "Jesus Christ, Eric. Half the elders at the wedding wanted to know when I was going to pass sentence and execute him."

"They want to see if you have what it takes to run a family. Now you can't make an example of him. Congratulations. You've got your first major optics problem, among a half dozen others."

"He outlived his utility," she said, floating her suspicion.

"Ronwe was never going to get out of this one alive, Ros. People have wanted him gone for ages."

She clenched her jaw. "What happens if Amleth wakes up?"

"Then we find him."

"Eric, this is not looking good -"

"I will not give up on him!" he said, half a threat, half a plea.

Rosalyn chewed her cheek in thought. Constantine was propped up in the crook of his sister's arm. His jumpsuit was torn and he had lost both shoes. He had cut his feet on the broken glass. Eva was gaunt from feeding him. She ran her slender artist's fingers through his disheveled hair.

"Why were they left behind?" she said.

Eric pursed his lips. "That's what Godric was about to find out - the old way."

Coming to a decision, she squatted down in front of the cell partition. "You two are fucked without me. You know that, right?"

"We'll do anything you ask," Eva said. She left her brother's side to prostrate herself face-down on the concrete. "We are yours to command, madame."

Constantine struggled to lean forward. "Please. Help us."

Rosalyn stood and towered over them with crossed arms. "Costas, the last time we talked, you pointed out that prisoners have next to no rights in our legal system. You were quite the little shit to me about it, as I recall."

"I am distinctly regretting my words at present, madame."

"Alright." She knocked decisively on the glass with a knuckle. "I wasn't playing good cop before. Fair warning: I am now. I have no idea where you'll end up after tonight. I want to see that you receive a basic standard of care, but I can only help you if you help yourselves. So here's what's going to happen. You are going to answer every single question put to you, without hesitation, and cooperate in every way that you are asked. If you try my patience or even think about pulling any bullshit with us, I will turn Godric loose on you and shut the door. Understood?"

"Yes, madame," they said.

"I'll get you some blood, bathing water, and fresh clothes."

"I'll handle it," Eric said. "They can't be trusted not to try to escape."

She glanced back at Amleth's empty cell and shook her head at Constantine and Eva. "Do not test me. Your maker understood. He begged me to never let him fall from my good graces."

Rosalyn went to the CCTV control room while Eric saw to the prisoners. She shuffled through the smashed computer hardware to see whether any of the backup fail-safes had survived. Eric stuck his head in. He watched her dig around. "Can you help?" she said. "Maybe check behind the server tower there. There were high-capacity micro-cards."

"You had Stan show you how the surveillance system works," he said in realization.

"Did you think I wouldn't take advantage of being allowed down here? Let's see if any of this still has power." She tugged a handful of cords.

Eric stood motionless for a minute, then quietly shut the door behind him. "Rosalyn."

"Maybe if - " She glanced up at him again. She tossed a shattered hard drive back down on the desk. "Why do you look like you ate bad blood? What's wrong? Apart from literally everything," she quickly amended.

She suddenly found herself swept up in his arms. His kiss was deep and mournful, filled with aching need. Her back hit the wall and his hands cupped her face. "Eric," she said, half-lost in the passion of his mouth. He moaned and she hummed and kissed back, then came to her senses. "Eric!"

He released her, eyes wild with hunger. She held up her hands. "What the hell?"

"One night as consort and look at you go." He licked his lips.

"As messed up as it is, this is my wedding night. Do you mind?"

"I need you to know."

"Know what, precisely?" She gestured in a vague circle at him. "There's a whole lot going on in there right now."

He gazed at the ground, searching for a way to explain himself. "I've never seen a vampire do what you just did for Amleth's children."

"Well." She shrugged. "What did you expect?"

"Not that. You've never seen murder before."

"I'm...compartmentalizing."

"And I am more certain than ever that I was right about you." He gave a soft smile. "I am sorry."

"It's okay."

"Not for the kiss," he clarified with a smirk. "For calling you into this. I panicked. Godric was going to take them apart."

"Surely if they were involved they'd have been taken too?"

"One would expect. Amla would never leave his children behind."

"I don't get it." She furrowed a brow. "Christ…" She dropped her voice, horrified. "Costas thought that Godric wanted to resuscitate Amleth just so he could kill him himself."

Eric studied her, unsure whether to elaborate. "It is - was - one of Godric's specialties. He often wasn't satisfied killing an enemy just once."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh, baby girl," he said in sympathy. He scrunched his face. "You know the bog people archaeologists have found?"

"Yeah?" she said hesitantly.

"Those were traitors' deaths in the old Celtic world. Killed three ways – hung, drowned, and stabbed. That's nothing compared to what Godric can do. He is legendary for murdering people repeatedly. The true death is a blessing from him."

She exhaled and blinked hard, trying to process it. "Would Thea know how to do something like that? Maybe she took Amleth to finish him off."

He sucked at his teeth. He had clearly considered it already. "It's possible. Godric worked as the enforcer in Tarquin's court before he made me. He should have killed the bitch when he had the chance."

"What are we going to do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I've made everything worse. Using you against Godric was a dirty move, even for me."

"Eric, I don't want mercy for Costas and Eva. Godric's got it wrong. I want to maintain their dignity – and ours - while we determine their involvement. He can't punish us for doing the right thing."

Eric snorted an ugly laugh. "He may well exile me, poppet. I've lost track of how many times I defied him tonight."

"He can't do that! You're my bonded. As consort -"

"No, Ros. Gods, have you not learned your lesson? Do not play lawyer with him. You'll enrage him even worse if you try to throw the law at him. He's your maker. The law is whatever Godric says it is. Who do you think you'll appeal to anyways? The Council? Three of the four counselors are currently being transported to my jail at Fangtasia."

She growled. "I'm not going to live in fear of that man's god damn temper! He's out of control because he's afraid."

"He should be afraid!" Eric slid blindly into a desk chair, half missing it. He gestured at the mess around them. "This is catastrophic."

Rosalyn set her hands on his knees and leaned down. She brushed his hair away from his face. "We'll figure this out together. You've got me. We're a good team, you and I."

"I know. It's why I gave you my blood." He sniffed, looking terribly vulnerable. "I was always going to give you my blood, Ros. I decided early on."

"What?" she stammered, a little breathless.

He stroked her jawline and gave her a fond smile. "One of those things we'll talk about in a hundred years, okay? I'm sorry to tell you tonight, of all nights. But I needed you to know, in case he sends me away."

She stared at him, astonished. "I've got your back, no matter what."

"And I yours. Let's just not present too united a front. We don't want Godric to think we're ganging up on him."

"In case you didn't notice, I'm not the 'fall in line' type."

Eric chuckled. "I'm counting on it, lillasyster."

~OOO~

Cases of their belongings were packed and stacked by the door. Pamela carried out another as Rosalyn and Eric surfaced from the jail. Michael was sitting at the dining room table with Godric. He was terrified, quite rightly.

Rosalyn sagged when she saw him. "Thank god."

Godric reached over and stroked Michael's head and cheek. The touch was invasive and over-familiar. He locked a paw over Michael's wrist. "How you answer my next question determines his fate."

Rosalyn froze. "That is a very dangerous way to begin a conversation."

"It's a very dangerous question," Godric told her.

"Let's have it then," she said.

Godric searched her face, as if to memorize every muscle that was about to move. "Who did you tell about the over-ride on my security system?"

Rosalyn blanched. "No one."

"You lie."

"No one," she said forcefully. "Not a single person. I swore to you and I kept my promise."

He smirked in disappointment. "That was your only chance, Ros. I command you to tell me who you told about how my system is bypassed."

She shook her head. "And my answer is still no one. I can tell you that I discussed security protocols with Isabelle and Stan, poor guy. I talked to Caleb and his teammates about guard rotations. And as I just told Eric, I learned a little about how the CCTV works. Or worked. It's obliterated, so you know. They knew what they were doing. We would have had off-site backup, but you ripped out our internet." Eric squeezed her hand in warning.

Godric shot to his feet. "Then you were playing around with the security system and someone saw you. I command you! Who saw you!" Hot tears began streaming down Michael's face. One jerk of Godric's hand and he would be dismembered.

"I practiced with the system once, inside the master bedroom, the first night I was here. And I didn't touch the control panel - which was why you told me how your system worked."

Eric balked. Almost no one knew Godric was left-handed. "You told her how to bypass your security when she was still human? What the fuck were you thinking?" He looked at Rosalyn in horror.

Godric ground his jaw at his eldest. "I wasn't thinking, Eric. I was acting like a lovesick puppy."

"I didn't tell anyone!" Rosalyn insisted. "You're reaching, Godric, and you know it. You told me Eric and Pam knew your secret. I'm assuming Amleth knows too? You didn't mention that because you were too busy hiding who he is to you."

"Who he was to me," Godric corrected, in a tone that chilled the room.

Eric growled in a threat. "Amleth didn't do this! The intruders entered a code. Your palm scan is irrelevant."

Godric looked between his two progeny. "And here everyone thinks I'm the luddite in the family. The scan generates a digital code, you dolt, not an image. There is no other bypass on the system. I used the code in front of her, for show."

Rosalyn narrowed her eyes. "Then the system was hacked. They knew what to look for."

"Which brings us full circle to my original question," he said, grinding out every word with fury.

"Flames of Hela," Eric swore. "She must have been glamoured."

"Eric! What happened to having my back?" Rosalyn said.

"It's not your fault," he offered. "Someone must have cornered you. Who do you remember speaking with alone?"

Rosalyn bit her lips. "Godric had me sequestered in his private wing. I didn't talk to anyone other than you, him…and Amleth."

Eric shook his head in disgust. "That can't be true. Stan, Isabelle, even -"

"No, Eric. Amleth was the only other vampire I talked with alone. He stopped me in the hallway a few times. I wouldn't be able to tell if he'd done something, would I?"

Eric dropped his head, crushed. "We can't get at traces of glamour once someone has been turned."

Godric palmed the back of Michael's head to catch his gaze. "You will not remember this night. The only thing you know about vampire security is that it is impenetrable," he told him. "Get your things. We are moving." Michael went to spring out from his seat at the dining room table. Godric held him back. "Walk, little jackrabbit. Don't run. You don't want to give chase around angry vampires."

"Sorry, sir," he muttered.

"Godric." Eric turned back to his maker. "You've had a lot of visitors in this nest. A lot to distract you. My brother could not have possibly -"

"Devil take me," Godric snarled. "We don't have time for this. Get your longsword and help Rosalyn with her things. Pack only what is precious."

~OOO~

In the early hours of the morning, Godric relocated the family to Shreveport. They arrived at Eric's unassuming ranch house with the sun bearing down on them. Godric carried Rosalyn inside. "Are you angry with me?" she asked from behind closed eyes.

"No, love."

"Am I in trouble?"

He let out an ironic laugh. "Most assuredly. You married me." As she fought the rising sun, he made love to her in the master suite, whispering of his devotion.

Rosalyn slipped into her day rest with the touch of Godric's lips on hers and the slow stir of his cock inside her. She woke in darkness alone, with only the feel of deliciously soft sheets between her legs. The room smelled strongly of Eric. Her senses were on edge – in every way. Bloodlust rumbled in her blood ties and the sumptuous roll of cotton against her skin roused more than one hunger. She found her way upstairs in the unfamiliar house.

The sixties-era interior had been gutted of its outdated features and remodeled along open lines. The rooms were filled with low, Scandinavian furniture in earthy golds and yellows. Light-tight shutters were drawn over the front of the house, while the large windows at the back had been uncovered. The hard-sided trunks with their belongings sat by the entryway. Nothing had been unpacked save for Eric's ancient longsword. Grendl had been given a place of honor over the fireplace mantle.

In the dining room, a picture collage over the credenza caught Rosalyn's eye. A frame was missing. The sliding glass door off the kitchen skated open in its track. Eric came in from the patio barefoot, clad only in jeans. "Where is everybody?" she asked.

"Godric and Pam took the prisoners to my club."

"How is Godric tonight? He's muting our connection."

Eric glanced at the bare spot in his dining room art arrangement. "Well, he woke up and ripped a family portrait off the wall first thing, so I'd say not great?"

She groaned. "Costas and Eva -"

"Will be fine," he said calmly. "The club is open and I always have some of my subjects working the floors, plus my underlings are behind the bar and in the offices. Pam is with Godric. He won't do anything in front of witnesses."

"Very clever, Sheriff." She hummed. "Where's breakfast?"

"Michael and Sookie are locked down in the guest rooms." He strolled to the fridge and popped a bottle in the microwave.

She sat on a stool at the counter. "I feel off," she admitted.

He suppressed a smile. "You've never been in someone else's nest before. It makes us very territorial until the pecking order gets established."

Territorial did not begin to describe the itch Rosalyn needed to scratch. "Are your rules different from Godric's?"

"Not where you're concerned." He gave her a patronizing look and handed her a drink. "And just so we're clear, this is mi casa and you're in my Sheriffdom now. You answer to me."

She took a sip and winced. "This is ghastly." Godric had never given her synthetic blood.

"I don't have donor blood here. I usually eat at Fangtasia."

She set the bottle down. "Fine. Just let me into Michael's room."

"I can't. Even if I could, you'd rip your snack apart right now."

She huffed in disbelief. "Godric's doing?"

"You got it."

She eyed his bare chest. "I'm ravenous, Eric. Please get me something more substantial to eat."

Eric closed his eyes. "Baby girl, drink your shitty Tru Blood and don't press your luck. I'm under a command to care for you, remember? You push me and you will get something substantial from me. You are broadcasting rather loudly."

She realized Eric was gripping the edge of the countertop. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Godric is using our commands against us as punishment?"

"Spending a little quality time with your bonded shouldn't be considered punishment, Ros. But whatever you do, do not touch me until you've finished your drink."

She swore. "Can you at least put a shirt on?"

"I was working in the yard." He brushed self-consciously at the soil on the knees of his jeans.

"Can we call a donor?"

"I do not allow humans here."

"You do now," she pointed out.

"Hence why we blindfolded Sookie and Michael when we drove in. How half-dead were you when we got here?"

"Pretty far gone."

"Gods, you sleep a lot," he laughed. "It's an hour after sundown, babykins."

"Bite me."

"Where should I start?" he asked, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

She took a long drag off the bottle instead of answering. A brand new coffee pot sat on the counter next to him. "Do I even want to know why the house where humans supposedly aren't allowed is stocked for humans? Who were you hoping to entertain?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I learned from Godric's mistake and prepped the house for you, my dear, in case we needed to run while you were still alive. I appreciate that you're jealous, but dial it back. I'm hungry too."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. She offered him the bottle and he curled a lip in disgust. He watched as she sipped at it and worried the corner of the label for a long minute. He turned to wash his hands in the sink. He could feel her building up to an uncomfortable question. "I hate to ask…" she said. "Can you feel Amleth this evening?"

"No." There was a hard edge to his voice.

"It could be the distance, right?" He gave a careless shrug. "God, Eric. I -"

"Don't," he said, flicking off his wet hands and her sympathies. "Finish that and follow me."

They wandered down a short hallway to the garage. A covered vehicle was parked inside. It appeared to be a vintage Corvette. In front of the car was a workbench organized with tools, many of which were old and well-worn. A small brown fridge hummed diligently beneath the table. Eric pulled out a box from the mini-fridge and rummaged through it. He held up a vial of blood, shook it, then tossed it to Rosalyn.

She sniffed the cap. "What's this?"

"That, Rosalyn, is Lafayette Reynolds. He's an acquaintance of mine with – shall we say – an eclectic taste in recreational drugs."

"This is drugged?"

"A cocktail of opiates and benzodiazepines, to be precise. It won't kill your hunger but it will cut it. They are downers. Let's do a few hits and play some Mario Kart until Maker gets back."

"You aren't serious."

He blinked innocently. "I'd offer you the coked up blood but then we're definitely going to fuck and you'll resent me for how life-changing it will be."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't do humble do you?"

"Why should I? It's the truth."

She contemplated the small vial in her palm. "Won't Godric disapprove?"

He made a skeptical sound. "Did you miss the part where he turned you into a blood fiend for all eternity? This will keep you mildly satiated while he's out. It's practical. If anything, you need to learn to recognize how your donors can affect you."

"You should get the man who donated this some help. He did donate it willingly, didn't he?"

"Done and done, Ros. I take care of my people. Lafayette is a good egg."

She debated. She had never experimented with pills. "How long does it last?"

"Atta girl," he grinned.

She snorted. "You are a terrible influence."

In the sunken den, Eric dimmed the lights and put on some electronic music. Rosalyn settled into the sectional. "I figured you'd get sick of listening to dance music, what with your club and all," she said.

Eric scoffed. "This? Please. Way too high brow for Shreveport." He plopped down next to her.

"Do you miss New York?"

"Yes," he said simply. He took her arm and tapped several droplets from the vial onto her wrist, then licked them off.

She tried to keep her head above her impulses by talking. "Would you go back to New York if you could?"

"No." He motioned for her to tip her chin back. It gave Eric a dark and twisting thrill every time Rosalyn wore one of Godric's dress shirts. It was transgressive and wrong - in all the right ways. He pushed aside the collar and left another drop in the well of her throat. He sucked at it, eliciting an appreciative hum from her.

"Why not?" she asked. He rested a cheek against her chest and she stroked his long hair. "If you like city life…"

He took a moment to explain. "Manhattan is a twenty-three square mile territory jam-packed with quarrelsome elders. Godric can't live there unless he's king. He won't wear a crown, I won't live far apart from him, and now we have you. It's not a workable setup." He leaned up and stole a kiss from her. "Unbutton your shirt a little."

"You are pushing it."

"It's called 'coping'."

"Yeah, right." She fingered open a few buttons and he let a long drip paint the swell of her breast. "Northman, you naughty animal," she laughed. "Don't stain my bra."

"It's better this way. You'll see." He lapped it up, sucking the globe of her breast and releasing it with a pop. "Delicious," he said. He handed her the vial and leaned back. "Your turn. Feast, my lusty bonded."

Rosalyn would be lying if she said her mouth hadn't watered at the sight of him spreading his arms in invitation. He waited, exceedingly pleased by the effect he had on her. She took the first hit off his wrist, as he had. The velvety taste washed over her, carried on the back of Eric's scent. "That's…very nice. You wouldn't have tasted like that though."

"Everyone's unique. You could always ask Godric to show you how he remembers me as a human, if he's willing."

She licked her lips and drew little mindless circles on his chest with a finger. "Did he keep you…you know. Alive. For a while?"

Eric sat up slightly. "You're asking about my turning?" He studied her. "That is easily the most private thing you could ask me, Ros."

"Sorry."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I've been having…dreams. Or fragments of memories? I'm not sure. They're very intense."

He smiled gently. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"You rose August 10th. Our Bonding Night was the 7th."

"Right." She shrugged, not understanding.

"Goðí only went to ground with you the day before you reawakened."

She stared in disbelief. "I was alive that whole time? I thought progeny stayed dead for three days to turn."

"Not when Godric creates." He blinked appreciatively. The drugged blood had taken hold and he was more relaxed than he had been in weeks. His pupils were constricted into pinpoints. "Remind Maker to command you now that you've realized. You should not share that information with anyone."

"Oh," she breathed.

"Those three days are sacred - they are between you and him. He can't undo the glamour now that you've turned. But it's good that it's coming back to you. Savor the dreams your maker sends you. Dreams are very special for our kind." Rosalyn was at a loss for words. "You haven't, by any chance, been dreaming of me, have you?" She thumped his leg and he grinned. "Mmm. Excellent."

"What about you?" she asked, certain she would blush if she still could.

He chuckled and tucked his arms behind his head. "You fill my head with all sorts of depraved ideas."

"Well, file this one for reference." She drizzled a stripe of blood on his pec and licked it up, catching a nipple between her teeth along the way. He watched her with amusement as she tried to decide on her next place.

"Only a drop or two to finish up," he warned.

She chose his belly button and he flinched when she poked it. "This is the only proof that you were ever human." Much to her surprise, Eric squeaked and squirmed when she fished out the droplets. "You're ticklish! Where else?" She threatened his sides with wiggling fingertips.

He staved off the attack and shoved a game controller at her. "A discovery for another night. I call dibs on King Koopa. You can play Rosalina."

"Hell no. I'm more of a Bowser." She snatched the controller.

"Mmm, competitive. I love it. Bring it on."

~OOO~

Godric found his progeny slumped together on the couch, battling each other on screen. "Hi love," Rosalyn said, concentrating on her game.

"Everyone settled?" Eric asked him, keeping one eye on the tv.

Godric picked up the half-empty vial on the coffee table and sniffed it. He dipped a pinky in the vial and offered it to Rosalyn. She took it without question, sucking his finger slowly and watching him watch her.

He set the vial back down. "Amleth's children can still feel his spark." Eric froze and his cartoon car crashed into a barrier. Rosalyn reached for the remote and silenced the entertainment system. "They know more than they are saying."

"How do we proceed?" Rosalyn asked.

Godric looked at her expectantly. "You tell me."

She was grateful for the blood on her tongue. She would be panicked otherwise. "Can they tell where he is?"

"They claim he is being moved east."

"Where precisely?"

Godric gnashed his teeth. "Tarquin's brood are utter garbage at communicating in the blood. They always have been. It's one of their weakest traits."

"That and not flying," Eric added. "Until yesterday. I've half a mind to toss Eva and Costas off a building just to test them."

"Your bonded might take umbrage with that tactic," Godric said, clearly in favor of the idea.

Rosalyn took a deep breath. "Where would Thea take Amleth? Surely not back to her own ground. It's too obvious."

Eric floated several possibilities. Tunis. Kiev. Tbilisi. He and Godric debated. It quickly became heated. "A quick recon will tell us if Thea is out of Athens," Eric said. "We should strike now and take Calla while we can."

"Strike with what team, child? I have no Second. My assassins have been killed, my nest compromised, my Sheriffdom abdicated. Who do you propose will risk their necks for a fight in the Old World?"

"Give me a break. You could walk in there on your own and tear Thea's house down around her ears."

Godric glared at him. "It's not a hit, Eric, it's a battle in a war. I have never, in all my years, waged a war in the Old World without Tarquin and his family working in the shadows for me. Now I must fight his wretched children and you would have me go against them empty-handed? Your maker has taught you nothing."

"Gods damn it all," Eric barked. "You have me."

"And we have a newborn to raise, Eric." He gestured at the couch.

"How many times do I have to say it? Amleth didn't do this! You'd have Constantine and Eva's help if you weren't being so fucking pig-headed!" he thundered.

Before Rosalyn could scream, Godric had Eric on his knees and subdued with a crushing grip on his throat. She had experienced only a fraction of Eric's indomitable strength. It was terrifying to see him so easily incapacitated – and Godric had not exerted himself in the slightest. He let out a low, rattling growl beside Eric's ear and yanked his head back by a fistful of his hair. Eric coughed violently. His windpipe had been damaged. "Why are you so blinded by foolish brotherhood?" Godric seethed. "Your human brothers led you to one grave. Amleth will lead you to the next."

"You frighten your wife, Maker," Eric said hoarsely.

"Blood will out, Eiríkr Goðríkson! The Tarquinii are a clan of traitors and you would join them!" He shook Eric again, hard, and Eric slumped in his grip, submitting completely. "You will help me rip that noxious bloodline out by the root, or gods as my witnesses, you will not darken my doorstep for a hundred years. Defy me again and see!" Spittle had gathered at the corners of Godric's mouth. He threw him down. Eric hit the ground in a roll and was instantly on his feet again. He drew his sword from above the mantle.

"I am no oath breaker," he declared in Norse. He put Grendl to his throat.

"Stop this!" Rosalyn shouted. She moved more quickly than she ever had, materializing between the two of them. She grabbed the blade with both hands and the ancient steel bit through her fingers. "Give it to me, Eric. Now." Eric resisted. "You trust me. I am yours. Hand it over." Slowly, he released his hold on the sword. He glared at her in furious determination. She recognized that look. It was the same determination she had seen in Amleth. She furrowed her brow.

"If Godric ordered me to drive a stake into my own heart tomorrow, I would do it without question," Amleth had said to her.

She closed her eyes at the memory. She saw Amleth's flashing green gaze. The pout of his full mouth curving into a smile. His wicked wit and his seductive winks. His hand upon her knee, his kiss upon her ring. His sultry passion and the whispered promise of more.

There was a fire in Amleth's voice when he swore he would give his life just to please Godric. There was a desperate love in his trembling lip each time he spoke of Tarquin. She felt that love constantly - felt it when he pressed Tarquin's ancient coin into her hand, felt it when he swore he would teach her of Tarquin's legacy.

Rosalyn's hand went to her bare neck where the coin had hung. "Tarquinii," she gasped.

Godric cocked his head suspiciously. "What?"

She sucked in a ragged breath in shock. She looked up at Godric. "Oh my god."

Godric took the sword from her and roughly deposited her into the couch. "Speak now or I will drain your bones for the truth. I am done waiting."

Rosalyn trembled. "Amleth doesn't use his bloodname, does he?"

"Not since 1824," Godric spat. "When Thea Tarquinii usurped their House."

Rosalyn looked at her lover, her maker, her moonlight. It cut her to the quick to have to tell him. Amleth had not hidden his resentment. It had been in her memories all along.

"Do you know what Godric thought was so important that he dragged me off to the suburbs…that night? Glamouring a human. For our 'security'! We would have been at the Council were it not for him."

"He makes mistakes, Amleth. I realize that's not the popular opinion around here, but it's true. He just apologized for one of his biggest screw-ups. Accept it. And please don't call me 'little one'."

"Yes, madame. Forgive me."

"Always, dingbat."

"That's Sheriff Dingbat Tarquinii of Cumbria to you."

"Speak!" Godric commanded.

A tear streaked down her cheek. "Amleth called himself a Tarquinii when we were driving to the rigged house - and he blamed you for Tarquin's death."

A Tarquinii. Minutes after being re-anointed yet again as Godric's child, Amleth had used his former surname. Playfully, jokingly, provocateur that he was. He had painted himself a child of the same lineage as his traitorous blood kin. Half of what Amleth said could be taken the wrong way. More than half he intended to be taken as such. Rosalyn tried to express this to Godric. She tried to walk back what such a thing might mean. It was too explosive.

In that moment, time ground to a halt, allowing for several things to transpire simultaneously. Godric's face fell, obliterated. He turned on his heel for the door. Eric lunged and hit the panic button on the security panel in the den, tripping the alarm settings. The house went into lock-down, bolting every exit. The remaining light tight shutters engaged, drawing down over the large picture windows.

Godric turned on Eric. Someone else spoke behind his lips. Someone else had taken over his limbs. "Defiance against your maker is your ugliest trait."

Eric towered over him, his eyes blazing fiercely with unshed tears. "Unchecked cruelty is yours. But you gave Ros standing orders on that, didn't you? What were you ordered, Ros? Remind your maker, baby girl."

Rosalyn stood slowly. She was not sure where she found her bravery. Her bonds were on fire. She stepped toward Godric. Eric grabbed her hand to stop her. She twisted from his hold. Godric let out a deep growl in warning. She could smell his blood. He had dug his fingernails into the skin of his balled fists. This was the vampire they called Death, Rosalyn realized.

"You would defy me too?" he said, in an empty, inhuman voice.

"It feels safer to hide in the brutality of your own power, doesn't it?" she said to him.

"Get out of my way," he said. "Unlock the house, Eric."

Rosalyn knew, as Eric knew without a doubt, that if Godric got past them, he was going to do something irretrievable to Amleth's children - and anyone else who crossed him. She squared her shoulders and leveled her gaze at him. "You're safe with me, Godric. You're safe right now." She held out her hands.

"No," he said, eying her open palms and their empathic touch. "You do not manipulate me, deceitful child."

"Eric is right. I haven't forgotten your command. How could I? You ordered me to find the peaceful path in war. You ordered me to prove that your destructive powers have a place in a world we are trying to make better."

Godric snarled in disgust. "Your world is a fantasy, Rosalyn. This is the nightlife. This is all there is! Betrayal, and murder, and villains!"

She shook her head. "You are wrong. You're forgetting all the magic and beauty. You're forgetting moondancing and awe and the wonder that we share." She beckoned to Eric and thought a quick set of directions at him.

Eric zipped to the cases in the entryway. Within seconds, he deposited a book into her hands. She held it out to Godric, letting the pages fall open to a deep crease in the spine. Her preserved flower sat suspended among poems. "Plant magic dust," she reminded him. It was the title he had chosen for her blossom. Another tear escaped from the corner of her eye. "Fate is a garden, Godric. We can choose to grow it with love - night by night. My maker taught me that. And I taught him that too."

Godric did not move. She blinked at her tears. "You are mine. And you gave me all of yourself. You are my weapon to command, isn't that right? I am commanding you now to stand down. You are terrifying the very people you are trying to protect. Apologize to Eric. You hurt him. Apologize to me. You shoved me around like a brute. You are going to destroy your family out of fear."

He laughed meanly at her. His fangs gleamed like knives. "You ridiculous modern creature. You surpass even Eric in your arrogance. Do you actually think I will obey you?"

A genuine smile danced over her mouth. "Oh, I know you will. You've never had so much to lose as you do in this moment. You're ready to smash the things you love because they make you feel. You're behaving like a terrified, cruel little boy."

"You dare speak to your maker that way."

"I am speaking to my husband," she said sharply. She held up an open palm and closed it over an invisible whip. Godric blinked. She raised an eyebrow. "Your move. Or are all your promises meaningless?"

Godric stared at her for a long, suspended moment. His teeth receded with a click. Slowly, he bowed to her. "Mater," he conceded to his consort. Matriarch.

Eric was sheet white, bewildered and uncertain about the power play that had just transpired. He sunk to one knee before them and lowered his head in fealty.

Rosalyn held out a hand to Godric. He took it and she pulled him close. "You are our sire and our Pater. Apologize to us."

He breathed in her scent and ran his lips over her stained cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, in the barest of whispers. He dropped his head against her shoulder. "I am so sorry," he gasped. "I have failed you all." Rosalyn wrapped her arms around him and it finished him. A tortured sob racked his whole body. "My boy," he cried out in anguish. "They've taken my boy. My magpie!"

He curled his fists into Rosalyn's shirt and wailed in long, howling sobs. His knees went out from under him and he collapsed, taking Rosalyn down with him. Eric was instantly beside them. Godric laid on the floor and pushed his palms against his eyes, inconsolable. "Why! Why have they done this to us!"

Rosalyn locked eyes with Eric over Godric's prone form. "It's personal," she said with sudden clarity.

Chapter Text

In the low-lit den of Eric's home, Godric found he could no longer hide from his grief. It poured from him, ugly and unfiltered, flooding his progeny's bonds. His child of fifteen hundred years was gone, lost to him in betrayal and deceit. He lay on his back, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "My boy, my magpie!" he wept.

Rosalyn tried to make sense of how terribly wrong it had all gone. "This must be personal for Thea," she said, furrowing her brow at Eric. "Why else would she want to hurt Godric like this? Why risk his wrath? He's left her alone all these years. She must have some vendetta."

"Personal for Thea?" Eric said in astonishment. He gestured at their maker. "It's personal for us!"

"There's something we're not seeing. Maybe she never intended for Tarquin to be killed? Maybe she thought Godric would save him and now she's taking her revenge?"

Eric sucked at his teeth. "Do not try to rationalize her madness. Thea is an abomination. There is no justification for her crime." Rosalyn stared blankly at him, not understanding. "She has broken another sacred tenant of our order," Eric explained. "You do not touch a maker's progeny."

"But if Amleth was complicit -"

"Not even then. It is not done, Ros. It's the only rule keeping us from the anarchy of endless war."

"I thought perhaps since she is technically the lineage head -"

"No," he said sharply. "Thea has absolutely no claim over Amleth. Tarquin recognized Godric's adoption without question, and Amleth abjured the family outright when his maker was murdered. Amleth is ours, Ros. We have a right to him, even if it is just to bury his remains." His expression hardened, and Rosalyn realized he was talking about a much older kind of justice. "Do you not know the old Greek epics?" he asked. "What happens to those who deprive a man of his eldest son? What happens when someone desecrates a kinsman's body? Thea does. It's this kind of shit that launches a thousand ships. She did it anyway."

Blood feud. The phrase welled up darkly between them like a wound. Their family had wanted vengeance for Tarquin's death. Now they could legitimately go after Thea.

"It's a trap," Rosalyn said. "She wants us to counter-strike. I don't think we should indulge her."

Godric curled in on himself and let out a gut-wrenching howl. Their discussion had only distressed him further. Rosalyn dropped down and pressed her face against his chest. She and ran soothing circles over his shoulder with a hand. "I'm sorry, love. We're here. It's okay to hurt."

"I loved him, Ros," Godric gasped. "I loved him with everything I had - and it wasn't enough. I deserve his betrayal."

"Like hell you do," she replied.

Eric put a hand on Godric's brow. "This is not your fault."

"What could that wretched woman have offered him? " Godric asked. "Why would he do this to me? I don't understand!"

Rosalyn gathered her courage. "If Thea heals Amleth, you can ask him yourself."

"He is lost to us, either way." The reality of it was unbearable.

She tipped his chin gently to make him look at her. "And either way, there will be a reckoning. Someone is going to answer for this, I swear." She spoke forcefully, with all the weight of a consort issuing a decree. He sniffed and blinked.

"Maker," Eric said quietly. "Thea may have taken Amleth to torture him. He may not have collaborated. We must consider it."

"'Kill the disobedient'," Rosalyn said, quoting Thea. "She said it to our faces. Maybe that's her plan. It's possible Amleth is only guilty of making a terrible joke at his own expense." She sounded unconvinced.

"He was going to hand you over to the Fellowship to burn!" Godric hissed.

"We don't know that for certain."

Godric crumpled into a ball and screamed into his hands. Rosalyn and Eric cowered, covering their ears. The sound set a car alarm off outside. Eric fished the keys from his pocket and silenced the SUV in his driveway.

"That child," Godric said. "That heartbreaking child." He could not bear to say Amleth's name. Pain and fury battled between his lips. "I gave him everything. And he fed Thea information on me in return."

Eric wiped at Godric's cheeks. "It is inconceivable to me."

"There is no other explanation," Godric said miserably. "He knew the wedding plans. He had access to my security system. His only mistake was involving humans. Sonia made the same idiotic error last night."

"It could all be Sonia's doing," Eric tried. It was a feeble suggestion and he knew it. Godric bellowed in frustration.

Rosalyn gave Eric a grave look. He really needed to stop pushing for Amleth's innocence. "It doesn't matter whether Amleth's guilty or not. We need to find them."

Godric looked up at her, tears streaming from his eyes. "I made you and he turned on me." He curled back into a ball and let out a haunting wail.

"Oh, please," she chastised, growing annoyed. "That's just bad logic. A coincidence is not causation. You don't get to blame yourself for this." Godric shrugged helplessly. "Come on. Sit up. We need you."

"I can't do this," he said.

"Godric? You cannot run away from this. If you abandon me, I'll die. We cannot be separated."

"I've made you so weak," he said in disgust.

Rosalyn raised her voice. "Look me in the eyes and lie to me again!" He startled. "The immortality in my veins is your gift to me. It's the power of millennia. Don't insult it again, blood of my blood." Sobering slightly, he tried to sit up on his elbows. Eric helped him upright and Godric melted into his chest, twining his bloodied fingers into his mane.

"Now are you with us, or what?" she asked him. Godric nodded, his grey eyes turbulent. Even tortured with grief and vulnerable in Eric's sheltering arms, he was indescribably beautiful. Rosalyn stared at him with open desire. "Let's get you cleaned up," she said softly.

~OOO~

Eric guided their maker to the master bath, a hand beneath his armpit to support his weight. He flipped on the recessed lighting. The space was lavish. An enormous tub filled one corner. Opposite the sprawling vanity, there was a shower enclosure the size of most people's bathrooms. Rosalyn raised an eyebrow at Eric. He shrugged. "The gods didn't skimp when they made me. Why should I treat myself any differently?" Rosalyn bit back a smile.

"The lights are too bright," Godric complained. Eric adjusted the dimmer on the wall. He went to light the candles set on the vanity. The wicks suddenly burst into flames. Eric jumped back, wary of being in the crossfire of his maker's terrifying gift.

Godric stood in the middle of the tiled room, waiting. Rosalyn unfastened his pants. As she helped him step out of them, Eric stared at the Celt in a silent, heated challenge. He wanted guidance, some gesture to make it clear what was allowed. Godric met his gaze impassively, refusing to give it. Eric's fingers found the edge of Godric's ruined shirt and he ripped it open, sending buttons skittering across the floor. Rosalyn glanced between the men and a flicker of something dangerous danced around the trio in the candlelight.

They led Godric to the tub and he kicked a foot out against the enamel in refusal. It did not matter that they pushed. Godric willed himself immobile. "You're like a damn cat. Get in," Rosalyn said.

"Careful Ros," Eric said. "You might make him nostalgic. I spent half my youth begging him to bathe."

"There's a half pint of blood in your hair," she said, pulling at one of Godric's matted tendrils.

"I got you both dirty too," he replied.

"A good soak will make you feel better," she pointed out.

He looked at her with wide, beckoning eyes. "But I don't want to be alone."

She sighed. "Alright. Shower it is, then." She shed her bloodied clothes and walked into the glass enclosure. Godric followed her willingly. He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Steam from the multiple showerheads filled the stall. Eric joined them silently. He soaped his hands and worked his strong thumbs into Godric's shoulders. Rosalyn turned and kneaded a palmful of shampoo into Godric's scalp. Their caresses loosened something more in him than his muscles. "I am so grateful for you two," he exhaled in relief.

Rosalyn wrung a sheet of water from her hair and Godric ghosted his fingers over her slippery skin. "Swan maiden," he whispered. Eric made a sound in agreement and the hand that skated down her backside then was decidedly not Godric's. Eric's attention fixed back on their maker, and he passed Rosalyn a loofah. Godric's expression grew placid as they took turns sponging him down. The slide of fragrant foam over his limbs and the kisses that trailed in its wake left him wanting more. When Rosalyn reached between his thighs, he hummed appreciatively. He caught her wrist before she could pull away.

"Yeah?" she said in surprise. He twitched in interest. She stroked him and he arched his back against Eric. Eric braced him by the shoulders as he keened. "Like that?" she asked.

"More," he breathed. "I don't want to think right now."

Hot water poured over them and she built up his pleasure in a rhythm. Eric leaned down and offered his throat. "Drink," he said quietly. Godric's teeth played over his flesh in contemplation. The hairs on Eric's arms raised in anticipation. Rosalyn slid down on a knee and replaced her hand with her mouth. The twist of her tongue quickly demolished Godric's restraint. He reached up and bit, and Rosalyn moaned around his cock at the sight of him feeding. Eric grunted and his eyes rolled back in rapture.

For a long moment, Godric lost himself in their attention. His fingers wended into Eric's hair and down around the back of Rosalyn's head, pulling them closer. They were his - and he was theirs. "Not like this," he finally gasped, stopping short of his pleasure. He did not want to be served.

Rosalyn found herself suddenly scooped up and carried out of the shower. Over Godric's shoulder, she watched Eric lean against the glass, his expression curious and unguarded. A tendril of crimson streaked pink down his neck and chest. She glanced over the contours of his nude body and buried her face in Godric's neck to hide her smile. Eric was, not surprisingly, magnificent.

Godric tumbled with her into bed, still wet. He rolled her on top of him. "What do you need?" she asked, cupping his face.

"You," he replied. She sank down onto him slowly, her body taking a moment to adjust to his thickness. The initial stretch and glide of him nearly sent her over the edge. "Take, lover," he told her. "Take everything you need." He pulled her hips against him and laid his wrists over his head.

"Like before?" she asked, unsure. He nodded shyly. "You want to feel secure," she realized.

He spread his legs wantonly. "Wreck me," he said with dark smile.

His words made her swoon with need. He rolled his hips suggestively beneath her. "Oh, god," she gasped. She gripped his wrists and pushed them down into the mattress. "I'm ravenous," she confided. She sucked at the blue markings straining on his biceps and she rode him roughly.

"That's it. Take it, lover," he encouraged.

"Let me hear you," she said. Her enthusiasm drew the filthiest sounds from his innocent looking mouth. His Adam's apple bounced and the raspy, base notes he made thrilled her. His body writhed beneath her, feral and wanting. "Louder," she said. "Tell the gods how good it is. Tell Eric." Godric shouted out and succumbed to his pleasure and Rosalyn quickly followed.

Godric enveloped her in his arms. He nuzzled her like a lion, ready for more. "Tell Eric, hm?" he teased. He called to him. The blond stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his damp hair. "Did you get all that?"

Eric smirked. "Duly noted."

Godric turned his attention back to Rosalyn and crooked an eyebrow. "You brought him into this," he warned.

She laughed against his chest. "Sorry! Everything smells like him here."

"It does," Godric conceded. He slid his hands over her thighs to keep her from escaping. She was caught astride him, pinioned by his hardness. "His scent is everywhere." He dropped his voice to a dangerous whisper. "Almost like he's inside you." Her body fluttered in desire and clenched around him and he let out a rumbling laugh.

"Godric!" she cried, mortified.

"Just checking. You aren't so opposed to him after all." He drew his fingers on her back in contemplation. "I suppose if you've crossed a line, he'll have to cross one too - for parity's sake." Eric looked on from the bathroom doorway. "I apologize in advance for this," Godric said to him. Eric straightened, the amusement evaporating from his face. "As your maker, I command you: feed from me."

Eric doubled over with a grimace, as though he had been socked in the stomach. "Where," he choked.

Godric threw back his chin. "Take from your maker. Now." Rosalyn watched in disbelief as Eric strode over and fell on Godric's throat, gagging at the obscene command. Only when the blood hit the roof of his mouth did Eric moan in relief. Godric shouted out and grabbed a hank of Eric's hair. He came apart at the seams, sweeping Eric and Rosalyn along with him. Eric roared in gratification, and Rosalyn came and immediately came again she was so spun-up.

Godric fell back, enraptured. The pleasure rocketing through their connections as they came down left them momentarily incapacitated. Eric had collapsed, half on the floor. He reached blindly for the towel he had dropped to clean up after himself, then crawled in beside them. He drew the comforter up around them and nestled in, threading a leg through Godric's calf and curling a foot around Rosalyn's. Their hands laced together over Godric's heart and Godric sighed, temporarily pacified.

"I didn't realize you could command us to bite you," Rosalyn said, after a long silence.

"I would not do that to you, sweet love," Godric replied from behind closed eyes. "Not yet. You wouldn't be able to."

"Wouldn't I?"

"Your body would refuse the command and your mind would sicken your body for refusing me." He touched the tip of his finger to the point of her canine and it snicked away instantly. "It takes a progeny studied in extreme defiance to overcome the conflicting commands."

"And an extremely powerful maker," Eric added. "I wasn't sure I was going to manage that." He sounded unusually humbled. "That was -" He hesitated. "Different," he decided. He hid his confusion well. Godric had never taken his pleasures passively. Quite the opposite.

Godric squeezed him in reassurance. "Thank you for indulging me."

Eric searched his maker's gaze for answers. Godric replied with a playful nip and Eric laughed. "I'm glad you're feeling better. We will get through this."

"Together," Godric agreed.

His easy manner with Eric made Rosalyn bold. She tucked a loose piece of Eric's hair behind his ear. Her touch lingered, stroking his chest, roaming the plains of his body. A lightening fast smack drove her hand off course. "That is mine," Godric said.

Her face was caught between surprise and laughter. "Mine too."

"Mmm, yes." He leaned down and kissed her deeply. "But I'm feeling very greedy." 

"Is that so? Then it's a miracle we've managed to go this long without him ending up naked in our bed."

Eric snorted. "I'll kindly point out that you're in my bed, mistress. And you didn't make it twenty-four hours under my roof before yielding to my charms."

The retort earned him a thump. "I haven't yielded anything," she said.

"You will," Eric replied. A sly smile spread over his features. "Especially when you realize how much Godric likes to watch."

"Really," Rosalyn said, intrigued. Godric licked his lip and shrugged mysteriously.

Inspiration struck Eric. "Goðí, allow me to bring Ros her meal? She's not fed tonight." Godric stared at him for a long moment before nodding against the pillow in agreement. Eric bounced up in excitement. "I'll be right back." Slipping into a crimson robe, he disappeared upstairs.

Godric lay unmoving, his expression thoughtful. Rosalyn fished under the covers and locked a pinky around his. It earned her a small, lopsided smile. "Michael signed Section 14 of his contract," he said.

"Oh? What does that cover?"

His smile grew impish and he cut his eyes toward her. "This."

She laughed. "Eric is one thing – we're bound by magic. But Michael? I don't…I'm not…" she tried.

"I know." He rolled over her with an impish pounce. "No human will ever satisfy you like I can." He caged her hands over her head and nudged her thigh apart with a knee. "No vampire will either, for that matter," he added mischievously. "Quick. Once more before they get back."

"Is this you re-establishing your territory?"

"You better believe it," he said huskily and dove in.

~OOO~

Rosalyn managed to appear halfway decent when Michael descended the stairwell. She had piled her hair on her head with a clip and dressed back into her cutoff shorts paired with one of Eric's oversized black racer tees. Eric glanced appreciatively at her loose breasts in his own clothing. Godric, on the other hand, looked positively baroque. He lay nude beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, black sateen sheets twisted at his hips. Michael's heart rate jumped wildly when he saw the pair waiting for him.

"Jackrabbit," Godric drawled. "Come take care of my wife."

"You lucky bastard," Eric said. He nudged Michael toward the bed. Michael stared in awe of Godric's tattoos. "Look - but do not touch - unless you are asked," Eric reminded him.

Rosalyn beckoned him forward. "How are you tonight?"

"Fine. Is everything okay with you all? The alarm went off. I heard yelling."

"Forget it," she said coolly. The glamour rolled off her effortlessly and Michael blinked, the memory gone. Godric broke into a ferocious grin.

"How do you want me?" Michael asked.

Rosalyn fidgeted, her restraint on edge. "I've only fed at your neck. Could I try your femoral?"

He blushed. "Sure." The swell of adrenaline from him suggested he had more than wanted this kind of encounter. Michael glanced over his shoulder, realizing Eric was still looming in the doorway. The three vampires in the room were all staring intently at him.

"Lose your pants, wild thing," Eric suggested. "And don't forget you work for me. If they're not happy, I'm not happy."

"Oh shush, Eric. Don't pressure him." She pulled Michael nearer. Her fingers toyed over the button on his waistband.

Eric sent a vial sailing through the air at Godric. The ancient caught it and smelled it. "That is not a good idea," Godric said.

"But it's a fun idea," Eric countered. "Admit it." Godric tipped his head in consideration.

"You can drink from me," Michael offered, sliding out of his jeans. "We didn't really finish that discussion."

Rosalyn shrugged over her shoulder. It was more than fine by her. Godric blinked lazily. "Tempting," he told Michael. "But not tonight. The last human I fed from directly was Rosalyn." He unscrewed the vial and downed its contents.

"Jesus, Godric. What is that?" Rosalyn asked.

"3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine," he said and belched. "And at a rather high concentration, I should think."

"Ecstasy," Eric translated.

"Woah," Michael said. "Does that do the same thing to you all?"

"Not even remotely," Godric replied. "At my age, it's perhaps a bit like a sip of bubbly."

"Or the whole bottle," Eric said under his breath.

"Don't listen to either of them, Michael. Champagne didn't exist in their time." Rosalyn patted Godric's leg. "But in spite of everything, we do have a reason to celebrate. We deserve a moment to enjoy ourselves."

"Right you are, my heart. Slàinte," Godric said, raising the vial. He sucked at the remaining dregs and tossed it on the side table. He motioned to Michael. "Lose the shirt as well. I want to see my brother from another mother."

Michael pulled off the rust red polo he wore with a single arm and ran a hand down his bare chest. Chills ran across his skin. "Is the house too cold?" Godric asked. Michael shrugged noncommittally. "She'll warm you up soon enough."

Rosalyn took the shirt from Michael and inhaled it. "I love this color on you. I rather enjoy you out of it too," she added conspiratorially. He bit back a sheepish smile. She folded the shirt carefully and set it on Eric's dresser.

"Have fun, kids. Be safe." Eric said. He had changed into his usual palette of black and leather.

"You're not going to stick around?" Rosalyn asked playfully.

"I'll take a rain-check. Duty calls." Eric blew her a kiss and slipped out.

Rosalyn circled Michael, dragging her fingertips over his skin. "I think you had better lie down."

~OOO~

The cement bones of Fangtasia thudded with the heavy hitting beats of a dance song. "Boss," Chow greeted tersely, throwing the door open for Eric. Strobe lights pulsed in the pitch black, capturing writhing bodies in freeze frames of pleasure. Eric sauntered in and was met with screams from his fans. Eager men and women reached out to touch his leather jacket. Chow shoved them away. Pamela sat in the throne on the stage, looking wickedly gorgeous. The dancing pole platforms that dotted the floor were decorated with mylar flame cut-outs uplit in red. The limber performers appeared to be dancing on hellfire. Eric bobbed his head to the music as he moved through the crowd. He flicked a finger at the DJ in the booth to raise the volume and gave a thumbs up.

Fangtasia's "No Saints Night" was their answer to All Saint's Day. The annual Halloween party had to be pushed because of the wedding. Samhain was not just an occasion to capitalize on humans' gothic fantasies - though it was certainly good for that. For many of the elders who lived in the shadow world between life and death, it was sacred. It was only proper to have held Godric's wedding on the night when the cosmic veils were thinnest.

Eric had wanted to forgo the club's usual week-long celebration entirely. Pamela, however, had different designs. Ever the capitalist, she had made damn sure they had a full series of events on the books. America had woken up to their family's faces on every major newspaper and news program in the country. Everyone and their mother wanted to see Eric Northman and Pamela Swynfort de Beaufort in the flesh. Neither had anticipated being able to attend. Godric's sudden move to Shreveport meant the humans were in luck. Eric cruised across the dance floor, scowling at his guests, looking every inch the apex predator.

Pamela rose and sauntered down the steps of the low stage. Eric caught her by a hand and dipped her aggressively, leaving a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Well hel-lo Daddy," she purred. "You're in a mood."

"You don't know the half of it."

"What happened?"

"Nothing," he growled.

Pamela nodded in understanding. "I'll get Yvetta." The Estonian dancer was hanging inverted on one of the dancing poles dressed as a devil.

"That's not going to cut it." His eyes scanned the seating area. "Booth nine."

"Which one?"

"Booth Nine," he repeated, arching an eyebrow meaningfully. Four women sat in the corner drinking the club's overpriced, sugary daiquiris.

"I only ever get your scraps," she said, throwing a hand on her hip.

"You could always try men again."

"Fuck you. You and your perfect dick ruined me for men."

Eric's gaze traced down her curving satin corset to the spiked designer heels she wore. "You don't look too upset about that."

"I'm not," she said tossing the blond curls he had displaced. "It's just inconvenient."

"I'm well worth the inconvenience, Pammy." He pinched her chin. "I'll be in my office. Don't keep me waiting."

~OOO~

In the leaky basement below Fangtasia, Eva stiffened. The wiry vampiress began panting. Constantine sat in the jail cell beside her. "NNnnnnn," he said, unable to speak past the gag in his mouth.

Eva stood up, clenching her chest. "Mmmmhhh!" She too had been gagged.

"Shut up or I shut you up forever," Thalia snarled. The petite vampiress twirled a long blade in her fingers. She despised younglings. Eric had promised her a fight. Instead she was stuck babysitting. She should never have taken refuge in Northman's territory. The Viking coddled her like a painted egg when it was she who was his guardian. She growled in annoyance.

Constantine shook his head frantically at his sister. "Nnn. Nnn, Ehhva! Shuht uhhhp!"

Eva struggled against her chains. She let out a muffled scream, terrifying the other prisoners. The counselors and Bill Compton looked at each other in distress. Thalia stood and brandished her weapon. "I said silence!"

Eva screamed again, and again Constantine told her to shut up. Thalia flipped the blade and holstered it. She stalked over to the cell and reached through the bars to pull the rag from Eva's mouth. "What's the problem?"

Eva coughed and sagged in relief. "Amleth. I can feel him. He's growing stronger."

Chapter Text

Rosalyn was enveloped in Michael's heady, male scent. His artery thudded between her teeth, hot and rich, pounding all the harder for the depraved encouragements Godric whispered into his ear. His legs squirmed and jerked around her shoulders and she held him steady by the thighs, just as Eric had taught her.

Eric. There was no escaping him in this house. Thoughts of him invaded her focus. His aroma was pressed into the mattress, into the rug beneath her feet, in the very air. She growled and resettled her bite only to have the trill of a phone ring from somewhere upstairs. She broke off from her meal. "Can you get that?" she asked.

Godric slid from the bed, taking the loose bedsheet as he went. He spun it expertly around himself into a toga, and had tossed the final fold over his shoulder by the time he reached the door. "He is so freaking cool," Michael said dreamily. "I'd like tattoos like those. Think he'd be offended?"

"Yes," Rosalyn replied. She sealed the place where she had bitten him with a lick and fell beside him. "Those aren't just random designs. They reflect his past."

"Oh." He blushed in embarrassment.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath? Eric's tub is Olympic-sized." Michael smelled like a gym – all adrenaline and sweaty pheromones.

He gazed at her with big doe-brown eyes and stroked his inner thigh. "Are you sure you don't want more? I feel fine."

He wanted to penetrate her, she knew, despite having already orgasmed from her compulsion. She considered it - the angry strain in his wet boxer briefs, his youthful body, his want. How many times had a pretty boy tried to convince her that his interest was hers? A smile crept over her mouth. "No. You'll keep," she teased. The power in her veins freed her. She would never again be persuaded to put a man's carnal desires before her own.

Godric reappeared in the doorway. "You want your skin marked, little rabbit?" He had heard him lusting after his tattoos.

Michael nodded eagerly. "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Not what you're imagining." Godric tilted his head, his eyes slanted and cat-like. Michael had that same shape in his cheeks, albeit colored altogether differently. "Decide, Rosalyn. Either you claim him or I do."

She sat upright. "What's going on?"

"We are needed at Fangtasia. I don't want him wandering in the wild unclaimed. It's not safe."

"Fangtasia?" Michael said. "I've heard that place is rad."

"You're a donor, Michael," Godric reminded him bluntly. "I do not control the vampires in this territory. As it stands, others will assume you are on offer. They won't stop to ask."

"Shouldn't it be Eric?" Rosalyn said. "Michael is his employee, after all." As she spoke, her hand unconsciously tightened on his wrist.

Godric's nostrils flared in amusement. "Listen to your instincts and then tell me that's what you prefer." She bit her lip in consideration and Godric gave her a knowing look.

"But it's a serious thing," she said in a low voice.

"Most of our kind don't think twice about marking their feeding ground. It's your choice. I will never command your blood."

"But?"

He huffed a laugh. "There is no 'but'. I'm not that kind of maker. What you choose to do with the sacred gift I've given you is for you alone to decide."

"You'd actually be willing to claim him yourself?" She felt a tinge of jealousy.

"I would do it for you. We brought Michael into our retinue. The decision to take responsibility for him was already made."

"I see."

Michael fidgeted. "Uh, do you guys need a minute?"

"Stay," Godric said mildly. "You won't remember this conversation." He returned his focus to Rosalyn. "Obviously I wouldn't go beyond a feeding claim."

"Because you're not that kind of maker?" she said in irritation.

Godric's features darkened. "Because I'm not that kind of lover, Ros. And I should hope you aren't either."

"Oh," she stammered in surprise.

"Feed and fornicate all you like, young love. But if you're already interested in forging blood ties beyond the bloodline, I'm going to seriously question my prowess." He gave her a sidelong glance and suppressed a smile.

She bounced in laughter. "That's where we're drawing the line for fidelity? Gotcha! No blood sharing with outsiders."

"As for making claims…" He smirked. "Let's just see how things play out, shall we?"

He went to the bed, letting his fingertips trail over Michael's skin. Goosebumps chased in their wake. Michael dared to reach up and touch the ink on Godric's bicep. Godric paused. His intense stare froze Michael in place. He leaned down to his ear to speak confidentially. "You may look, jackrabbit, but do not touch. I am spoken for."

Michael retracted his wandering hand. "Sorry."

Godric tapped him playfully on the nose. "You'd do well to remember that. A less perceptive vampire might mistake your actions as an invitation to be bitten."

Michael went to respond. His breath caught in his throat. Godric was suddenly standing over him innocently, waiting. "Ow!" Michael jumped belatedly. Two crimson dots welled up on his neck and he slapped his hand over them.

"Godric!" Rosalyn cried out. Not even she had seen him strike.

"I'm helping," he said mischievously. He hitched a knee behind Michael and hugged him to his chest. Tugging on his dark hair, he exposed Michael's throat. "You're ours," he told him, his accent growing broad. Michael nodded. "Let me hear you say it."

"Yours."

"Again."

"Yours. Please." Michael was at a loss to explain his need. He gripped Godric's knees and his tanned body strained desirously, captured in Godric's bone-crushing hold.

Rosalyn swallowed. Her pupils had blown wide. "Struggle for me," she said impulsively.

"Oh, Ros," Michael gasped. He writhed pointlessly in Godric's arms, hot flesh against cool. Rosalyn's teeth throbbed in tune with Michael's heartbeat. Godric cast her a scorching look and she straddled the boy, trapping him between their bodies.

Godric let out a low, rattling growl and Michael melted in response. In his submission, Michael looked like an obscene saint, eyes closed and mouth open and wanting. "Mine," she said and Godric nodded darkly. "Claim him if you want him to yourself," he whispered.

She slipped her fangs into the shallow nicks Godric had made and deepened them. The sensation made her swoon with pleasure. She understood at once why he had nipped the boy. It felt as though her maker was letting her take something of his. Sharing a human with him felt wildly depraved and glorious.

"…like a blood kiss…" Godric was telling her. She barely heard. She toyed with the bite, nuzzling it and purring into Michael's neck. He tensed and shivered beneath her and she realized she had made him come again. She laughed and healed the tiny wounds, then slid off his lap.

"You're fun," she whispered to him, inspecting the shallow, shimmery mark she had left. "Go wash up. We'll find you in a bit."

"Michael?" Godric said, stopping him. "You did well."