Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello there. I'm new to the world of Sookie Stackhouse and True Blood. But I've loved all the fanfics I've read and wanted to try something new myself. This fanfic picks up right after book 8 and will focus on Sookie and Eric. Sookie will gain more confidence in herself, more power in her own heritage to better protect herself, and Eric will try to restore the bond he has with her. This is my FIRST fanfic, so please be gentle!

I don't own these characters, they all belong to Charlaine Harris. I just take them to play a little and fill the void left by the endings in books and tv.

Chapter One: Parking Lot Trouble

It was one of those humid Louisiana afternoons where the air stuck to your skin and the pavement shimmered with heat. Amelia and I had just left the mall — not for anything important, just errands and a rare chance to pretend we were normal women with normal lives.

We both knew that wasn't true.

Amelia chattered beside me, going on about a new warding charm she'd picked up from a coven group online. She was animated, gesturing with her hands the way she always did when magic was involved.

"I'm telling you, Sook," she said, "if I anchor it with silver dust and moon water, it should deflect minor hexes for at least two weeks. Perfect for the porch."

"Mmhmm," I said, only half-listening. Because I was feeling something. That twinge behind my eyes, that pressure that always came before a flood of thoughts that weren't mine. Something unpleasant was swirling nearby.

I glanced up just in time to catch sight of a tense scene unfolding a few rows down. An elderly couple was getting into their vehicle, and two younger men — all shadows and sideways looks — were hanging nearby. Too close.

The couple didn't say anything, but I could hear the woman's rising panic in my head like it was echoing off tin: Why are they just standing there? Why won't they leave? Harold, let's just go, let's just go—

I stepped forward, instincts kicking in.

"Sook?" Amelia asked, pausing.

"Something's not right," I said. "Those men. They're scaring that couple."

Amelia's gaze sharpened. "Want me to hex their shoelaces together?"

"Let's not lead with magic," I muttered. "I'll get close and listen."

I walked a bit faster, pretending to be scrolling on my phone. When I passed behind the SUV, I caught a burst of thought from one of the men: Tag the tire, tail them home, wait 'til dark. Easy money.

My stomach turned.

"Shit," I breathed.

I doubled back toward Amelia, who had already picked up on my face.

"They planted something on the car," I said. "A tracker or a bug or something."

Amelia cursed under her breath.

"We need to say something," I added.

"To mall security?" she asked. "Or…"

But before we could decide, the men slipped away, fading into the lot like ghosts. Mall security was now approaching from the other end.

"Come on," I said, marching toward the couple's car.

"Excuse me," I said loudly as I reached them. "You don't know me, but I think someone tampered with your back tire. Just—please don't drive off yet. Mall security's right there."

The old man looked suspicious. His wife looked terrified.

Amelia, thankfully, turned on the charm. "Sorry to startle y'all. We just… saw something and thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

It took some explaining, and even then, we mostly got thanks-but-we're-fine glances until the security officer joined us — followed closely by two detectives in plain clothes. That's when things got complicated.

One detective — gruff, middle-aged, and looking like he didn't have time for psychic girls or magical roommates — immediately asked what we were doing near the car.

"I overheard something," I said. "One of the men said they were tagging the tire to follow them home. It didn't sound like a prank."

"Overheard how?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

I met his gaze evenly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He let out a tired breath. "Try me."

"I have very good hearing," I said. "I'm not wrong."

That earned me a skeptical eyebrow and a smirk from his partner, but Amelia was already walking around the SUV, peering near the wheel well.

"Here," she said, reaching down with a pen from her purse. She nudged a small black device free. "Looks like a tracker to me."

The mood shifted. The officers exchanged glances. They didn't look happy, but they weren't brushing us off anymore.

The gruff detective nodded. "We've had reports of some weird follow-home burglaries lately. You might've just saved this couple a whole lot of pain."

I didn't answer. I was already tuning out, because something else was wrong.

Amelia was standing too still. Her eyes were darting to the side.

"Hey," I said, moving closer. "What's wrong?"

"There was a guy," she whispered. "He was watching me. I thought he was with mall security but… he's gone now."

I scanned the lot, my blood turning cold.

"Let's go," I said. "Now."

The ride back to Bon Temps was quieter than usual. Amelia stared out the passenger window, arms crossed, her fingers twitching now and then like she was replaying the whole scene in her head. I kept my eyes on the road, but my brain was racing.

Something about today didn't sit right. Not just the tracker, not just the old couple. There was a feeling I couldn't shake — like we'd brushed up against something bigger. And it was brushing back.

"I hate that," Amelia said finally.

"What?" I asked.

"When people watch me. That look — like they know something you don't, and they like it."

I nodded. "Yeah. I got that too."

We passed the Welcome to Bon Temps sign just as the sun started to dip low behind the trees. Home was only a few minutes away, and I felt that strange tightness in my chest – which I had already grown accustomed to – begin to ease. But only a little.

My house came into view — white and steady and familiar. But something was different. The porch light was on.

And someone was sitting in my rocking chair, legs long, posture still as stone.

Eric Northman.

Uh–oh.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Long Shadows on the Porch

SPOV

Amelia didn't see him right away. She was still fussing with her seatbelt and muttering about warding the mailbox when I cut the engine.

I sat there, staring. There he was. Just sitting like he belonged. Like no time had passed at all.

"Uh," Amelia said, finally looking up. "Wow."

I didn't answer.

Eric Northman, Viking vampire, Sheriff of Area Five, my… something, or nothing. He looked immaculate, of course. Black pants, dark button-down shirt, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair glinted in the porch light, gold and bright even in the dusk.

He was watching the road, like he knew we were coming before we turned in. Maybe he had.

"You want me to…" Amelia started.

"No," I said quickly. "I'll talk to him."

"You sure?"

No. "Yes."

She took the hint, gathered her things, and slipped inside quietly through the back door while I stood there for a moment, grounding myself in the gravel crunch beneath my boots. Then I walked up the path.

"Hi," I said.

Eric stood, fluid as ever. "Sookie."

Just my name, but it sounded different now. Weightier. Like it echoed with things left unsaid.

"I hope it's alright I came," he said. "I didn't want to disturb you."

I crossed my arms. "You're sitting on my porch in the dark, Eric. That's not exactly casual."

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile. "Fair enough."

I didn't invite him in. He didn't ask.

"So?" I said. "What's this about?"

He paused, studying me with those ice-blue eyes that used to know every line of my face.

"I remember everything," he said, voice low. "Every moment I was with you. Every word you said. Every time you looked at me like I was something good."

That hit like a gut punch.

I looked away, trying to slow my breathing. I wasn't going to cry. Not now.

"You said we'd talk," I murmured. "That night, when you showed up in my bedroom… a month ago".

"I wanted to come sooner," he said. "But things have been… complicated. With Felipe. With Victor watching everything I do."

I nodded slowly. "I get it. Politics."

"That doesn't mean you weren't my priority."

I raised a brow. "You had a lot of priorities, Eric. And I wasn't sure I was even on the list."

That shut him up for a moment. Good.

"I needed everything related to Felipe's takeover to calm down; I didn't want to put you in danger." He said, staring at the ground.

"I'm always in danger," I snapped. "That's just Tuesday for me, Eric."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and brittle.

Then, softer: "I'm sorry."

I didn't answer. I couldn't, not yet.

"I'll go," he said, and there was a hint of something real in his voice. Not defeat, but maybe regret. "I just needed you to know. I haven't forgotten. Not you. Not us. And I am patience"

He turned to leave.

"Eric," I said quietly.

He stopped.

"I haven't forgotten either."

He looked over his shoulder, nodded once, and vanished into the dark.

I didn't follow. I stood on the porch for a long time, arms wrapped around myself, listening tothe crickets and trying to remember how to breathe.

I couldn't believe it, after a month. A month of agony, a month of this incessant pain in my chest, in my stomach, in my limbs, in my whole body. A month of nightmares. A month of waking up every night looking for him by my side. Of course, we had already been separated for more than a month, but it had been a month since the Sheriff of Area 5 and MY Eric had been reunited in one person, with all his memories intact.A month in which I wished he would come to see me, tell me he would keep his promises, that... I would be the only one for him, that he wanted to pick up where we left off. Fantasies, clearly. Stories I told myself to help me cope with the anguish of having had him and then lost him so quickly.

But now that he'd come and gone, now that I had heard the words I thought I wanted… I didn't feel better. I felt raw. Fractured. Like his presence had cracked open something I had barely managed to tape together.

I stepped inside, shut the door softly behind me, and leaned against it.

How could he just show up and drop that on me like it wasn't a bomb? How could he speak of memories and regrets like he hadn't torn my world in two? I knew he wasn't lying. I knew he remembered. I could see it in his eyes — that haunted flash of our nights, the ones we never spoke about.

But knowing that didn't make this easier. It made it worse. Because now I had to decide what to do with it. With him. With the version of us that was once real — and the ache in my chest that still hadn't gone quiet.

I climbed the stairs slowly, my feet heavy. Amelia was pretending not to hover, but I felt her presence in the living room. She was giving me space, for now.

In my bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. I wasn't sure if this was the beginning of something, or just a new way to get hurt.

But I wasn't done. Not yet.

EPOV

The night I told her I remembered, I thought I'd feel some relief. That the weight pressing into my chest would lift, even slightly. But it didn't. The memories came back with such violence that they nearly broke me. I remembered the snow, the silence, the way she looked at me like I was the best thing to ever happen to her — and how I had tried to be that man, even when I wasn't myself.

And when I woke up with it all intact… I realized I'd been happier as that version. That man with no kingdom, no schemes, no Felipe de Castro breathing down his neck. Just… hers. But I didn't go to her. Not right away. I had too much to lose.

Victor was circling like a vulture. Felipe was still watching every Sheriff in his newly acquired territories like they were pawns he hadn't decided how to use yet. I couldn't risk drawing attention to Sookie — not with the kind of attention Felipe liked to give women who defied him.

So I waited. And it gutted me. I thought about her every night. How her voice softened when she said my name. How she looked curled into my chest, even when she was pretending she didn't need anyone. I replayed our moments like they were the only thing keeping me sane.

Pam knew, of course. She always does. "You're brooding," she said one night in the back office. "It's very unbecoming. Go see her, or do us all a favor and wallow somewhere else."

"I'm protecting her," I said.

Pam snorted. "You're torturing both of you. She deserves better. So do you."

But I waited another week. One more cursed week of pretending I didn't ache for her, pretending I was in control. Until finally, I couldn't anymore.

I showed up on her porch like a fool. No grand plan. Just desperation wrapped in decency. I sat there, waiting, hoping she wouldn't shoot me.

And then she was there. Her hair windblown, her eyes fierce, that stubborn tilt of her chin that I wanted like crazy.

I wanted to fall to my knees and beg. But I didn't. I'm still in control. I told her the truth instead.

She didn't ask me in. She didn't smile. But she didn't tell me to leave, either. Not until later. And when I walked away into the dark, I felt her watching me. That was something. I told myself it was a start. Maybe there is still a place in her heart for me.

I don't want to pressure her, I want her to come back to me because she really wants to, not because I beg her. Although I'm pretty close to doing that. But no, I will not lose control of this situation. More than a thousand years of existence have taught me better than that. I told myself.

I resumed my flight to Fangtasia. I had to devise a plan for this new stage in my life, where Felipe and Victor are watching my every move, and with my memories back, I know exactly what I want and must protect it more than anything else. Pam wouldn't understand me. She means well, but this is beyond her comprehension. She has never been so deeply connected to anyone. By the gods, I even married her! Even though the circumstances were nothing more than politics, I was delighted to do so, because something inside me prevented me from seeing her suffer at the hands of another person. I had to protect her. The most precious thing in thewhole world. Even without my memories, my body pushed me to do it. I would have done it a thousand times over. Pam has never reached that level with anyone, least of all a human.

"You're late. And you smell like pine trees and female disappointment. How quaint." Pam said, without looking at me.

"Good evening to you too, Pam." I answer dryly.

"You disappeared without a word. I assumed you were off decapitating someone or brooding in a tower somewhere. But judging by your mood, it was neither." Pam says,

arching a brow.

"It was personal. I need a drink" I start walking to the bar.

"Ugh. Even worse. Personal makes you insufferable." Following me without any caution of my mood. "So? Are we burning down a palace, staking a rival, or pining after the telepath again?"

"I saw her." I tell her while I pour some blood.

She blinks once, then exhales slowly. "Oh. That explains the emotional constipation."

"She was colder than I expected. Distant. Guarded." I couldn't process these feelings more than I couldn't swallow this horrendous synthetic blood.

"She should be. You vanished for a month. You know, after regaining all your lovely little memories and not bothering to do anything about it."

Now she's pushing me and I let her know. "It wasn't safe" I growled. "Victor watches everything. Felipe has eyes in the walls. If I'd gone sooner, it could have led them straight to her."

"Doesn't change the fact that from her point of view, you remembered your time together and then disappeared without so much as a 'hello, lover.'" She says uninterested in my alerts, smoothing her skirt.

"I know." I say without looking at her. She is right. Sookie deserved more. Even a letter where I could explain my incapacity of visiting her.

"So? What now? Are you planning to play penitent Viking? Because that's not your strong suit and frankly, it ruins business." She gestures toward my chair at the podium, which I haven't visited in several days. I am so tired of dealing with fangbangers insignificant to me.

"I don't know. But I'm not finished. Not with her." I have to come up with a plan, damn it.

"Now that sounds like my maker." She gives me a proud smile.

"I won't ask you to take sides. But I need to navigate this carefully. Felipe's leash is tightening." I look her straight in the eyes.

"Felipe can choke on his leash. I serve you, remember?"

"Let's keep that our secret for now." I give her a grateful smile.

Raising her galls, she says "To secrets. And to complications dressed in sundresses and Southern charm."

A/N: I hate waiting for chapters myself, so I'm trying to write this story as fast as I can.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: "The Choice Is Mine"

SPOV

I couldn't sleep. I didn't even try.

I sat on the edge of my bed until the clock ticked past midnight, Eric's voice still clawing at my chest. The way he said my name, the look in his eyes—regret, need—it should've meant something. Maybe it did.

But it wasn't enough. Not enough to erase the ache, the confusion, the silence he left behind after showing up in my room a month ago and then vanishing like mist. And it sure as hell wasn't enough to fill the void he carved into me.

I grabbed my keys and purse and crept downstairs. Amelia was asleep—or pretending to be. Good. I wasn't in the mood to explain why I needed to drive to Shreveport in the middle of the night. Why I needed to see him. I just needed to go.

I didn't bother changing out of my sundress. I slipped on boots, tied my hair back, and got in the car like the night owed me something. The road between Bon Temps and Shreveport stretched long and quiet, wrapped in pine and heavy southern air. I cracked the windows and let the warm Louisiana breeze curl into the car like a whisper. My heart beat louder than the wind.

I knew Fangtasia would close at 2 a.m., and Eric usually lingered afterward. That suited me fine. I didn't want a crowd. I already felt like my skin was too tight, my mind too loud. When I pulled into the parking lot, it was almost two. The neon sign still glowed red, but the crowd had begun to thin. I didn't hesitate. I marched to the front door, ignoring the bouncer's lifted brow.

Inside, the club throbbed with bass and blood. The lights were low, the air thick. I scanned the room and spotted Pam first, draped over the bar like a queen on her throne. Her eyes widened a fraction when she saw me.

"Where is he?" I asked.

She tilted her head, smirking. "Good evening to you too, Sookie."

"Pam, I'm not in the mood."

She studied me for a moment, then nodded toward the back. "Office."

I didn't thank her. I didn't slow down. I pushed past murmurs and curious stares, past vampires and humans who watched me like I was some kind of apparition. I didn't knock. I shoved the door open.

Eric sat behind his desk, bathed in lamplight, a stack of papers in his hands. He looked up—and for a heartbeat, he looked startled. That alone made my pulse trip.

"Sookie," he said.

I shut the door behind me, letting the weight of it echo. "No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to show up on my porch, say what you said, and vanish again."

He stood slowly, as if I might shatter. "I wasn't going to vanish."

"You already did. Once. I'm not doing that again."

His gaze softened. "You came to me."

"I came for answers." My voice cracked like dry twigs. "You told me you remembered. But then you waited a month. So explain it to me. Now."

He circled the desk, steps slow, measured. "Very well. I don't trust Felipe, and I trust Victor even less. When Felipe extended his 'protection' to you, it wasn't kindness. It was control. He didn't need to kill you to own you—he only needed access. If I visited you, I would've led them straight to you. I couldn't risk that."

I folded my arms. "You could've sent a letter. An email. Something. Anything. Didn't I deserve that?"

"Victor has eyes everywhere," he said. "Even on my dayman. I couldn't trust anyone. Not then."

He motioned for me to sit on the couch. I sat, but kept my distance. He sat beside me, close but not touching.

He took my hands gently in his. "I couldn't risk bringing more pain to you. You deserve a

normal life. And even if I'm not in it, I will do everything I can to keep it safe."

I pulled my hands away. My head pounded, my thoughts racing. I saw the softness in his face—my Eric, the one who once held me like I was breakable and precious. But I also

remembered the one who hurt me a lot of times. Granted, for my own safety, but still. Which one was real? Maybe both.

He watched me carefully. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

I blinked. Of course. Our bond. He could feel me unraveling. Could he still? I thought it wouldfade. I wanted it to. I needed it to fade.

"Gin and tonic," I muttered.

He disappeared for five seconds and returned with the exact drink. Classic Eric.

"Thanks," I said, because manners are armor.

He smiled, but there was pressure behind it—a tightness I didn't recognize.

I squinted at him. What was that look? That smile? I suddenly wished more than anything that I could read vampire minds.

So I tried. I focused.

"Control. Still. Control. Still."

That was all I caught. My chest tightened. I wasn't surprised. Eric was pragmatism dressed in leather and Nordic cheekbones.

Control of what? Of me? Of the bond? Of his world crashing into mine again? I straightened my spine. I wouldn't be pulled under.

"What do you want, Eric?" I asked, voice steady. "I get why you stayed away. But now we're here. So what's changed?"

He cleared his throat. Took a breath he didn't need. "I want you, Sookie. Nothing has changed. That's the point. I remember everything, and I'm grateful for what happened. I don't want to go back. I want to go forward. With you." He moved closer, slow and cautious.

My breath caught. I held up a hand. "No. I need to know something first."

He stilled.

"How do I know you don't love me for my blood? Or for sex? How do I know you're not just obsessed with owning me?"

He flinched like I'd slapped him.

"You think that's all I want?" he asked quietly. "Don't you remember the Eric who forgot a thousand years of pain and chose you anyway?"

"That's the problem," I whispered. "I believe him. I just don't know if he still lives in you."

"Ah, you wound me, lover," he murmured. "That Eric is me—without the scars. But still me. And only you have ever reached him."

He stepped closer again, and cupped my face in his hands. His touch was reverent.

I swallowed hard. "Then prove it."

He nodded, solemn. "Very well. I will. I may not know modern human courtship, but I can learn. If you need proof that I'm one man—not two—you shall have it." He kissed my

forehead. "Ask me for anything, and it's yours. Just… trust me. But give me something to start with. A thread."

"Don't leave again," I whispered. "That's where you start. You can't keep disappearing. I can't keep breaking."

He took my hand again. His grip was steady, but the tension beneath it gave him away. "Then I won't," he said. "I swear it."

I shivered.

"One chance," I said, stepping back, ignoring how much I already missed his warmth. His pull. His chocolate-kissed blood.

I walked away. Not because I was done. Because I wasn't. But I can't be someone's shield and their secret. I can't be a symbol or a strategy. I want to be loved for who I am — not for how I fit into someone else's war.

Let him prove this.

Let him chase me this time.

Let him earn it.

EPOV

The door clicked shut behind her. She didn't slam it. That wasn't her way. Not anymore. But it echoed louder than any fight, louder than any goodbye. I stood there, unmoving, her scent still hanging in the air like a ghost I couldn't shake — honey, wheat, sunshine and something wild beneath it all. She had come to me angry, had left me trembling. Not outwardly, of course. Not where anyone could see.

But inside? The quiet cracking had begun. Ancient ice doesn't melt fast — but it breaks with thunder when it finally gives.

"Damn it," I muttered, to no one.

She was right. About everything. And that was the problem.

I'd spent a thousand years surviving, rising, mastering the art of appearing untouchable. I'd played kings and monsters, seduced enemies, ended empires. I had manipulated humans, vampires, even queens.

But her? I couldn't lie to her. Not really. Not when it mattered. Because no matter what I told myself — no matter how logical it had been to stay away, to protect her — a part of me had also wanted her to come. To chase me. To feel my absence like a hunger. But she'd walked in with fire, not longing.

And she'd walked out with power, not heartbreak. I stared at the drink she left behind — half-finished. The gin and tonic I fetched like some eager suitor. There was still a smudge of her lip gloss on the glass.

Pam appeared in the doorway without knocking — because of course she would.

"Well?" she asked, eyes sharp. "Did she stab you with righteous indignation or merely gut you with words?"

"She asked me to prove myself to her"

Pam sauntered in and glanced at the untouched drink. "So you're going to chase her?"

I didn't answer. Pam knew better than to press when I fell into silence. She leaned on the desk and studied me like I was something in a museum — ancient, fragile, beautiful, and probably cursed.

"What are you planning?"

"She asked me not to leave her again."

"And you let her go?"

"Not tonight, Pam. She left to go home, it's late" I frowned and then sighed. I can't believe I'm going to say this. "Do you know something about modern human courtship?"

Pam blinked. Not used to hearing that kind of vulnerability from me. Not used to hearing pleads in my voice, of all things.

She shook her head. "The Viking has gone soft…Well, Dear Abby says some useful things" Pam looked at me with a mocking glance.

"Don't," I warned her. "The Viking has remembered what it feels like to want something that is not power. I cannot lose her."

And for the first time in centuries, I was afraid I might.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and messages! I honestly didn't expect them at all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Box

SPOV

The morning after felt like waking up from a fever dream. Not hot and burning — cold, damp, and real. I blinked at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me, sunlight streaking across the hardwood floor like it didn't care my heart was still pounding.

I'd barely slept. Just drifted in and out of shallow thoughts. None of them helpful.

Part of me had expected something — a bat signal in the form of a thousand-year-old Viking doing something ridiculous like dropping roses on my porch or sending Bobby in a mariachi suit. But there was nothing.

I wandered to the kitchen, made myself coffee strong enough to keep a corpse awake, and sat with my legs tucked under me at the table. I stared at the steam rising from my mug and wondered what it would've felt like to wake up next to him. If things had gone differently.

Amelia padded in a few minutes later, yawning in one of her ridiculous witchy sleep shirts.

"You're up early," she said, pouring herself some coffee. "Or didn't you sleep at all?"

I gave her a sideways look. "A little. Not much."

She took a sip, narrowed her eyes at me. "You went to Shreveport, didn't you?"

I didn't answer right away. Just stared into my mug like it might tell me what I was feeling.

Amelia sat across from me and waited. She was good at that.

"I needed answers," I said finally. "From Eric."

"And?"

"He gave them. Some of them."

She nodded slowly. "And now you're... what? Sitting here waiting for another supernatural complication to knock on the door?"

"No, the ball's in his court now, it's his turn" I said, maybe a little too sharply. "I'm going to work. Like a normal person. I've got a noon-to-eight shift."

Amelia held up her hands. "Okay, okay. Don't bite me."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Sorry. I just… I'm tired of not knowing who's safe to trust."

Her expression softened. "You're not wrong to feel that way. Things have been weird lately."

"Weirder than usual?" I arched a brow.

She hesitated. "Actually, yeah. When we were at the mall yesterday... Parking lot? I felt something then. Like someone watching us."

A chill ran down my spine. "I thought it was just me."

We stared at each other for a beat, the air suddenly heavy.

"Be careful at Merlotte's today," Amelia said, voice low. "Just… keep your eyes open."

I nodded. "Always."

I got ready to leave, because even though my shift started at 12, I wanted to stop by to see Jason earlier, if he was awake.

And as I opened the door, I saw a box. Plain cardboard, no label, no address. Just sitting there like it had fallen out of a dream.

I looked around — no car, no shadow, no Supe. I carried it inside like it might explode.

Inside: a book. Leather-bound. Old. The spine was worn, the pages edged in gold. Tucked inside was a single sheet of paper, folded in half.

I opened it.

"Human courtship, according to Dear Abby. Lesson one: Know your audience.

Tell me which one is your favorite.

Yours,

E."

I blinked. Amelia came over to peek. The danger had clearly passed. It never was.

"So... well played Viking?" She looked at me, raising her eyebrows.

Then I simply laughed. Out loud. It caught in my throat, somewhere between a sob and a grin. Of course he'd quote a newspaper advice columnist. Of course this was how he'd start.

I turned the book over in my hands. It was a book with a collection of love poems from the last thousand years, apparently.

I began to read through their pages. It looked like a handmade collection. As if someone had been accumulating the poems over the years and putting them here in these pages. It didn't follow a line or connection between them. Just love poems. Eric had a collection of love poems? What the hell?

One of them stood out:

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

Oh my. Definitely this one. Something tightened in my chest. Not pain. Not quite.

Hope.

The shift at Merlotte's was blessedly normal, thank you Jesus. Fryers hissing, orders flying, Arlene making faces behind customers' backs. Sam gave me a once-over when I walked in — the kind that said he knew I wasn't sleeping again — but didn't press. By five, the late lunch crowd had thinned, and I finally had a minute to breathe. I was wiping down a table near the front window when I felt it — a prickling at the back of my neck. Like static. Like being watched.

I turned slowly, eyes scanning the parking lot through the glass. Nothing obvious. Just a beat-up truck, a couple regulars' cars, some teenagers smoking across the street. But the feeling didn't go away. I didn't sense any thoughts, which usually meant one thing. Not human. I could hear the other Supes, but their lines of thought were not like humans and sometimes more convoluted or difficult to decipher. Shifters sometimes thought in sounds or images, like animals; Weres were a bundle of overwhelming stream-of-consciousness.

I forced myself to keep moving. Smile at customers. Fill coffee cups. Pretend like my heart wasn't pounding in my chest. Whoever it was, they were keeping their distance. For now, at least.

But they wanted me to know.

I got home just after eight-fifteen, the sun had set just as I parked my car. Amelia was curled up on the couch with a book and a glass of wine.

"Hey," she said, not looking up. "Anything weird today?"

"Just the usual. Creepy supernatural vibes outside Merlotte's."

She set the book down. "Seriously?"

I nodded, kicked off my shoes, and flopped down beside her. "Someone was watching. I couldn't see them, and I couldn't hear them."

"Vamp?"

"It was daylight. Could be Victor's people. Could be something else. Eric warned me yesterday that even he was being followed by Victor"

We sat in silence for a moment.

Then we talked about my gift from Eric.

Amelia listened, then snorted. "Dear Abby? Wow, he really is making an effort"

I smiled despite myself. "Yeah. Apparently. We'll see."

Despite everything — the risk, the pain, the supernatural power plays — I still felt the tug.

The bond. The possibility.

But not tonight. Tonight, I curled up on the couch next to my roommate, glass of wine in hand, and let myself rest.

Because whatever was coming — love, danger, or both — I'd be ready.

EPOV

Pam didn't ask what I was doing when I left Fangtasia an hour before dawn. She just raised one perfect brow and muttered something about romantic suicide. She wasn't wrong.

But I wasn't playing to win her approval. I was playing for Sookie's trust. And that meant not just power moves. It meant risk. Softness. Humanity. It would not be as difficult as one would think. I may be old, but by recovering my memories, I also recovered that side of me that was hidden and dormant for a long time, that only Sookie could see. It has not gone away. I know now that it is possible to bring it out when I needed it most. I am still in control of the situation. Yes, I am.

So I'd left the book on her doorstep. A gesture. Something that spoke in her language. I wasn't sure she'd even open it. Maybe she'd burn it. Maybe she'd laugh. But for the first time in a thousand years, I didn't care about the odds. Because she hadn't shut the door in my face. She walked away. Which meant, if I moved carefully — and sincerely — she might walk back.

SPOV

Later, we settled on the couch together, watching some terrible rom-com neither of us was really paying attention to. It was just nice — to have something light, normal, even boring.

Then we heard it. A soft scrape. Not loud. But deliberate. Just outside the window.

Amelia sat up. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," I said, already standing. My heart kicked up.

I crossed to the door and peeked through the blinds. Nothing. But I still felt it — that cold prickle, the one I got when something old and unnatural brushed too close.

"Vampire," I said quietly. "Outside. Not trying to come in. Just… lingering. Watching."

Amelia stood. "They can't come in, right? Not without an invitation?"

"Right. But still."

She nodded and turned toward the kitchen. "I'm doing a spell. I don't care if it's cheesy. I'm not messing around tonight."

"From inside?"

"Yeah. It'll boost the perimeter. Just enough to repel or at least reveal something trying to hide."

As she shuffled ingredients around — herbs, salt, chalk, and something that looked suspiciously like glitter — my phone buzzed. It was a text from Eric.

"What happened? Everything is alright?"

I can't blame him for writing to me, he must have sensed my fear. What if that vampire wasn't alone? If he or she was accompanied by another Supe that was able to enter my

house? I started to think about how fast I could get to the rifle. Better to keep it close. It had been useful before. I don't want to remember.

Another text message from Eric: "Answer me. Everything OK? I can feel your fear."

I was going to type back, but at that moment, the air began to get thicker and warmer and brighter, as if something was condensing. And suddenly, Claudine's radiant light.

"Claudine!" I exclaimed, but in a choked sigh.

"Cousin, everything all right? I felt the buildup of supernatural energy and your fear. Tell me"

I filled her in on what had been happening to Amelia and me since yesterday. Briefly, I told her I'd talked to Eric again. She just grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"Ok, first things first. Amelia, how's the spell going, do you need any help?" Amelia just

waved her hand saying no, she kept her eyes closed while muttering an incantation.

"Ok, let me do it, but cousin, how come you didn't do anything yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have enough magic to visualize what's outside, look, I'll show you"

Claudine took me to a window and whispered: "Just strongly desire to know who is haunting your peace in your home."

I did. With all my might. I could see a small light, as if illuminating a place in my garden, there, hidden among the trees. But... I couldn't see the face.

"Ask to see the face"

I tried again. There it was, clearly a vampire, I knew it for sure. It was a woman, but damn it, who. I didn't recognize her. And to date, I think I know enough vampires.

Claudine jumped for joy.

I calmed her down, whispering, 'Lower your voice!'

'Oh, they can't see us,' she said, grinning. 'I put a veil on your house.'"

Amelia looked indignant, as if she had been working on something in vain. Claudine immediately clarified: "No, no, Amelia, it's not a veil for protection, just so they can't see what's going on inside. You can go on about your business."

"So, she's a vampire... I don't recognize her." Still trying to go over in my mind all the vampire faces of the last few years. Maybe this one slipped my sight.

"You told me you were talking to the Viking again, right? How about filling him in?" suggested

Claudine with a wink.

"I don't want to, he'll think I'm looking for him just for protection" I mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.

"Ah, cousin, I think he'll be happy to provide you with all the protection in his hands" She said enthusiastically.

"Why do you want me to go back to him?"

"Sookie, I am your fairy godmother, apart from your family, I just want your happiness. If it's with a vampire... Well, we'll just have to adjust, won't we? But honestly, tall, blond and dead… he's the right profile to be your partner. We couldn't accept a lesser vampire." She hugged me. "I'll stay here until he arrives."

"You think he'll come flying right away at my first call?" I looked at her with slightly teary eyes.

"Hasn't he done that before?" she rubbed my back.

I called out. Two rings. Weird. I felt the pull, but a calming one. Wait a minute, I heard something... Yep. There he was, at my front door. Killing me with his perfection.

A/N: Next chapter will have lemons finally. Can't wait.

Chapter Text

A/N: Lemonsssssss ahead. I enjoyed so much writing this!

Chapter 5: If You'll Have Me

SPOV

I didn't move at first. Just stood there, hand on the doorknob, heart thudding like a second heartbeat in my throat. Amelia had gone quiet. Claudine stood behind me, arms crossed, radiant and smug, as if she'd personally summoned Eric out of thin air. Maybe she had. Bitch. I thought.

I opened the door slowly.

He stood there, tall and still, moonlight catching the gold in his hair. No suit tonight. Black shirt. Dark jeans. Black leather jacket. Simpler. Less armor. His eyes locked on mine like I was the center of gravity.

"Veil spell?" He asked.

I nodded.

"You called," he said. Not a question.

I swallowed. "You felt me. Earlier. The fear."

He nodded. "Yes. I came here right away"

"I wasn't going to call you," I admitted. "I didn't want to seem like I needed rescuing."

His voice lowered. "But I want to protect you. Always."

Behind me, Claudine cleared her throat and took a step back – she approved of Eric, but she still was a fairy and he was a vampire. Amelia was suddenly very busy dusting invisible lint off the coffee table.

Eric stepped inside without hesitation – he already had an invitation, of course – eyes flicking to the corners of the room like he was already evaluating exits, threats, shadows.

Claudine spoke first. "I'll take my leave," she said. "The vampire is here now. Call if you need me."

Her light shimmered and vanished, like someone had pulled a lamp cord.

I was alone with him. Eric looked around. "Your wards are holding. But they will test them again. Whoever she was, she's not acting alone."

I sat on the couch. "You saw her?"

He nodded. "From the woods. Victor's enforcer. She doesn't act without orders."

"I'll be in the kitchen—text me if he starts monologuing" Amelia murmured as she passed behind me, giving us space but pretending to clean a wine glass that was already spotless.

Bitch.

Eric moved closer, slowly, and sat at the other end of the couch. "You look tired," he said.

"I feel tired. They have been following me since yesterday, even at daylight."

"You didn't tell me that last night. You're scared."

"Terrified," I said. "But not just because of her."

He waited. Let me speak in my time. He was good at that when he wanted to be.

"I don't want to go back to what we were before. All secrets and politics and power games."

"I know."

"I don't want to be your leverage."

"You are not."

I looked at him. Really looked. "Then what am I?"

He didn't hesitate. "You are mine, if you'll have me. Not as a possession. As an anchor. And I am yours, if you'll have me."

I swallowed hard. "That book you left… you've had it for a long time, haven't you?"

His eyes glinted. "Since the poets were living. I have been collecting them for no specific reason."

"Huh"

"So, which one?" He asked, referring to whether I already had my favorite poem.

"Well, I haven't read it all," I replied honestly. "I had a long and stressful shift" Aha, they're following me around. "But I liked Shelley's Love's Philosophy."

"Great choice." He told me, as if analyzing the background of why I liked that particular poem.

Silence stretched between us again. Warm. Not heavy.

I broke it. "So what's next?"

He smiled, just a flicker. "You tell me. I'm not here to control. I'm here to stay, if you want me."

I reached out — slowly — and touched his hand. Just fingertips.

"Stay tonight," I said. "Here, on the couch, or…" I nervously mumbled. "Just… be here."

He nodded. "I'd stay in the doorway if that's what you needed."

That night, I fell asleep with Eric seated in a chair by the window, eyes glowing faintly in the dark, watching over the house like a sentinel.

For once, I slept deeply. Not dreamless, but safe.

EPOV

The night greeted me with the scent of ash and expectation. I rose around 20 minutes before the last layer of twilight slipped beneath the horizon. Warm July night.

But the moment I opened my eyes, I immediately turned to bond. I checked to see if Sookie was okay. She felt tired, she must be working or finishing her shift.

I prepared to go to Fangtasia, I didn't want to push her. I had no intention of scaring her with my advances. I wanted her to set the pace. I am a patient vampire, very patient. But of course, the bond pressed. Every time I opened it to feel her. It was tying me up, squeezing me, torturing me, pushing me to go with her running once and for all and make her mine forever. I struggled with that bond every damn day of my existence without her, ever since the ceremony at Rhodes.

Ah, how I longed to end this suffering. I have felt many pains in my long life, physical and mental. But this one was like no other. This was the pain of my soul. A soul that I thought had died with me when my human life ended. But Sookie, somehow, found it.

What was I going to do for fucks sake. I had never been connected by a bond before, with anyone. And now that I think about it, I haven't even told her exactly what happened and the importance of it.

I'm sure she has felt what I have felt too, but she shouldn't give it any more depth than the component of our bloods in each other.

I have so many things to tell her, but I must act cautiously. Somehow, I am the predator and she is my prey. Precious, wonderful, longed-for, beloved prey. I can't scare her away. She has to be mine, not to kill, but to treasure her all the nights of my life.

I dress in my usual clothes, it's not cold, but for style, I wear my jacket. Pam asked me to put on a good face and entertain the vermin at the bar tonight. Perhaps, I can take some time off to allow myself to daydream about her. My Sookie. Maybe, she can sense my dreams too.

And suddenly, fear.

Sookie.

It wasn't the usual spike of adrenaline I sometimes sensed through our bond. No. This was different. Sharper. She was terrified, and she wasn't alone.

By the time I reached Fangtasia's rear entrance, Pam was already waiting.

"You're going to bolt, aren't you?" she asked without turning around. Her heels clicked as she crossed the threshold behind me. "You have that look."

"I need to know she's safe."

Pam shrugged, but her eyes were alert. "Victor's been testing the perimeter. I smelled his bitch in Shreveport last night."

That sealed it. My instincts weren't wrong.

I didn't bother with my office. Didn't bother with the crowd or the politics or the half-sentences from underling vampires. I texted her twice on the way — no answer. FUCK.

That scared me more than her silence a month ago. The bond warns me, compels me to go to her. I can't ignore it anymore. It is real.

Without thinking, I take my car and in a time that I believe will go down in the records, I arrive at Bon Temps. I leave my car a little further away… As I get out, I can immediately smell that I'm not the only Supe in her front yard. Within seconds, I survey the area.

Ah, Pam was right, it's Victor's bitch, no doubt. But what the fuck. I knew this could happen, but I didn't think so fast, if I just visited her last night.

Strange. I can't see anything inside the house. As if I wasn't there. I check all the windows and doors. Nothing. But then where the hell is she? I resort to the bond. Yes, she's right here.

My phone starts ringing as I approach the door. It's Sookie.

I didn't breathe as she slept.

Not because I had to — I never did — but because I didn't want to disturb the fragile quiet that had settled in her chest. She hadn't said she forgave me. Not in words. But she had let me in.

And that was enough.

I watched the yard through the thin curtain, senses extended, every molecule of the night catalogued and recorded. One breath from her, and I'd act.

The woman in the woods hadn't returned. But she would. Victor had always preferred psychological games. Fear before blood. Doubt before death.

I would be ready. I wouldn't let them near her. Behind me, I heard the soft hitch of breath as Sookie turned in her sleep, lips parted slightly.

She dreamed again. I could tell by the way her fingers twitched against her chest. Whatever haunted her wasn't gone… but tonight, she reached for me instead of running. That was enough.

SPOV

I woke up crying. Not because I was having a nightmare, but because I was having the most wonderful dream and I didn't want it to end. I wanted it to come true with all my might. I wanted it so badly.

Eric jumped out of his chair and in a second was kneeling beside the couch.

"Sookie, what's wrong?" He looked at me puzzled, not knowing how to calm me down.

"Eric..." I began to create words, between sobs. "Eric..." I sat on the couch, looking at him as if trying to tell him just by looking at him what he needed.

"Tell me, lover, what do you need" He was now stroking my arms to calm me.

"You" I managed to articulate.

Eric didn't want to move for the next few seconds, as if trying to feel the floor to see if it was really firm, if I was really telling him that what I needed most in this world was him. He looked at me carefully, searching for the truth in my tears. Until he came closer. Slowly. I could swear that a warmth emanated from his body, burning, enveloping me. Or maybe it was just me.

He took my hands and said.

"Sookie, I won't go back, I won't be able to do it, now I'm the one who's not strong enough, are you sure this is what you want, lover?"

I nodded, trying to let the last of the tears go.

He captured them with his fingers and wiped them away in his mouth. God, why does he have to be so sexy.

"Mmmm, I missed that" He purred. "Well…" And he took my face in his hands and brought his lips just the right distance to brush mine but not claim them yet. Eric loved the anticipation, the suspense, he was the king of sensuality. I felt an ache deep inside me, it began to boil, it didn't hurt, it just burned.

I moaned. That was enough for him to close the distance that still remained between us, claiming my lips, my mouth, my tongue with fierce need, with anxiety, with hunger, as if we hadn't kissed for centuries, as if the only thing we thought about in those centuries of separation was this moment. The only thing that sustained us both all those centuries was this kiss, the dream of this kiss, the pleasure of this kiss, the hope that someday it would happen.

His hands began to move quickly over my body, they knew it perfectly. But they were recognizing it for the first time in a long time. If the kiss was our little hope, what was coming now was the fuel that made us survive.

It all came down to this perfect, wonderful moment.

I should've felt foolish, falling into his arms like this after all the silence, all the pain. But instead, I felt found. Like something had finally come back to me.

Eric took me in his arms and carried me with speed to my bedroom. This was something to keep private.

EPOV

She said one word — "You" — and everything inside me stilled.

The hunger that always burned at the edges of my restraint flared, but this time it was different. Not wild. Not mindless. It was sharp. Focused. Honed by the ache of months I hadn't lived but still felt. Honed by every night I had watched her from a distance and wondered if I would ever be allowed to remember this again, to feel like this again.

Endless nights where the only thing I thought about was what the fuck had happened between Sookie and me, I paced and paced, I destroyed millions of doors... Pam would tell you, trying to figure out why the one moment of my life I couldn't remember and a feeling I hadn't felt in a thousand years now was tied to her.

Her tears had not been born of sorrow, but release. And her voice had not trembled with fear — it trembled with trust. Finally.

I bent forward slowly, letting my fingers drift over her arms, her shoulders, the slope of her collarbone, memorizing her all over again. She was warm, flushed, open. She was mine — not by claim or blood, but by choice. That made all the difference.

"I won't leave again," I whispered, brushing her lips. "But if I take you now, there's no coming back."

Sookie didn't answer with words. She leaned in and kissed me, deep and hungry, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer like she didn't want to even breathe. My control thinned. Cracked. Fractured.

I scooped her into my arms, fast but careful, and in a blink we were in her bedroom. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting pale silver across her sheets. I laid her down like she was something sacred. She was for me.

She looked up at me — eyes soft, wanting, unafraid — and that was it.

I pulled my shirt off in a single motion. Her eyes followed the movement, hungry and reverent. She reached for the buttons on her pajamas, but I stopped her.

"No," I murmured, kneeling beside her. "Let me."

One by one, I undid each button, kissing the newly exposed skin between them: her chest, her ribs, the curve of her stomach. I peeled the fabric away like unwrapping a gift I'd waited centuries to touch again.

She wasn't shy. She never had been to me, not truly. She watched me, pupils blown wide, breath catching every time I ran my lips along her skin.

"Tell me you still want this," I said, voice low. "I need to hear you say it."

"I want this," she breathed. "I want you."

A growl rumbled low in my chest. Her bra came off with a flick of my fingers revealing her magnificent breasts where I could spend all my hours just smelling them; I ripped her panties to shreds. I could wait no more to have her. Her skin flushed pink beneath my mouth as I kissed up the inside of her thighs, pausing at her center just long enough to make her gasp.

She was already wet. My name spilled from her lips the moment my tongue touched her, and

I smiled against her.

This. This was mine. This was right. So fucking right. So fucking MINE.

"Mine" I murmured.

I took my time. Drew patterns with my mouth and fingers. I mapped her like I was relearning a holy language — her moans, her writhing, the way she clutched the sheets and whispered, "Please, Eric…make me yours"

She came with a cry muffled by her own hand — shaking, radiant. Her legs wrapped around my shoulders, and I held her through it, watching every shudder, every fluttering gasp. I wanted to brand this into memory.

But I was far from done. I climbed up over her, muscles tight, teeth clenched. Her hands ran across my chest, down my sides, and then lower. Bold. Unapologetic. I groaned.

"Do you remember this?" she whispered, her fingers curling around me.

"I remember everything." My voice was rough now. I am sure that had we done this before, even without my memories, I would have remembered everything the instant I felt their warmth and wetness on me.

I kissed her again, but this time with more hunger — possessive, dominating. I let myself press into her slowly, filling her inch by inch, watching her eyes widen as she adjusted to me again. I gave her time for her insides to adjust to me, identify me and embrace me.

The moment I was fully seated inside her, I stilled. I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. This was the moment I had dreamed of in the dark. Not just the heat and the slickness and the fit — her. All of her. Wrapped around me. Welcoming me home.

"Eric," she whispered.

And then I moved.

"I want you so fucking bad, Sookie", I said between growls.

The rhythm started slow. Deep. Torturous. I made her feel every thrust. Every roll of my hips.

I watched her fall apart beneath me, again and again, her body tightening around me, calling me deeper, harder, faster.

"Eric… please, I want…" I knew what she wanted, because it was the same thing I wanted.

"Me too, lover" I could barely say.

I took her and sat her on top of me, me also sitting, in a perfect union, where no one would believe that even with the difference in height, we would fit so well.

And when I felt her start to come again, her nails raking down my back as I held her wrists pinned above her. My thrusts had lost their rhythm, no longer a game of seduction — this was worship now, and I was falling.

I could feel her magic rising — something in her was waking, ancient and fierce. And I wanted all of it.

"YES…," she breathed. "Do it. Now."

My fangs dropped. I tried to hold back, just a little longer, to savor the moment — but her blood was already singing to me through her skin, through the bond, through the stars themselves. I sank my teeth into the soft curve of her shoulder, just above her heart.

The moment I drank, the world tilted. Her blood was electric — like swallowing sunlight, starlight, wildfire, all at the same time. It tasted like memory, longing, and everything I'd forgotten how I needed her blood to feel full. It wasn't just nourishment. It was a revelation.

She cried out — not in pain, but release — and in the same instant, she arched up, eyes blazing with something feral, and bit me back.

Not with grace. Not with hesitation. With instinct.

Her teeth tore into the base of my neck, and I roared — from the sheer rightness of it. I could feel a light coming out of his chest and embedding itself in me, as if striking me, bringing me to the most incredible peak of pleasure I have ever felt in my thousand years.

I succumbed.

Her magic poured into me — and I felt myself unravel. Her orgasm crashed over us like a tidal wave — her body gripping me, milking me, her power spilling into every crack inside me — and I let go.

I poured myself into her with a final thrust that felt like surrender.

And in that instant, we weren't just lovers. We weren't just bonded. We were joined.

Body, blood, and something more. Something I didn't have words for. Not yet.

I have given up. She is my home, now and forever. And gods help anyone who try to take her from me now.

I let her lie on her back, I lay on my side looking at her as she breathes in between the last shocks of her end. I caress her shoulder, her breasts, her mouth, all of her, with one finger. And as if possessed, I sink my head into her golden hair and burst into a kind of cry, vowing:

"Jag älskar dig, min älskade. Du är det mest värdefulla för mig och jag kommer aldrig att lämna dig igen. Från och med nu existerar jag bara för dig. Ta mitt hjärta och gör vad du vill med det. Jag är ditt."

There was no going back after this.

Chapter Text

A/N: I'm enjoying this story so much. I have read almost every Sookie/Eric fanfic that exists, so it's just perfect timing to start writing my own.

Chapter 6: The Change

The sunlight slanted through the curtains, warm and golden and far too honest for how tangled my sheets looked.

I stretched slowly, I realized that I didn't feel a shred of pain, not even the good kind. No pain at all. Courtesy of Eric's blood. My whole body felt like it had been… cherished. Which was both deeply satisfying and a little terrifying.

Eric was gone. Of course he was. I'd fallen asleep with him beside me, watching the world through the window like some Nordic gargoyle with a death wish and a protective streak a mile wide. But when I reached across the bed, the sheets were cool. No trace of his weight.

No scent of cologne or forest or blood.

But then I saw it — a slip of thick, cream-colored paper, folded once and tucked against my pillow.

I sat up, heart doing that annoying flutter thing it always did when he caught me off guard. I reached for the note like it might burn me.

Lover,

You looked so peaceful in your sleep, I didn't want to wake you.

I will come back to you at first dark. I still have to prove myself with you.

Yours,

E.

I read it twice. Three times. Then I just sat there with it in my hand, feeling like someone had cracked me open from the inside.

Because he meant it. Eric might be full of tricks and power plays when it came to vampire politics — but when it came to me, in that letter, there wasn't an ounce of manipulation. Just a man who was both ancient and utterly new to this kind of vulnerability. To us.

I set the note carefully on the nightstand and padded out of bed. My hair was a mess, but I didn't care, I was just so happy to be alive. I looked for the bite mark, but there was none.

The blood did its work just fine. Like it never happened, but oh, it happened. Jesus knows it really did. There'd been something different in this last exchange. Not just hunger — power. Like something inside me had cracked open and leaked into him. Or maybe it wasn't a crack.

Maybe it was a doorway. I didn't know what it meant yet, and that scared me. But it also… didn't. I could still feel him. Not just through the bond — but under my skin. As if something in my blood now hummed in tune with him. Like he'd left something inside me. Not just desire, or memory. His scent was much stronger than before, too.

The day would go on. I'd shower. Eat. Take a short shift today at Merlotte's from noon to 5 pm. The world hadn't stopped just because I let Eric Northman back into my bed.

But something had changed. Deeply. Unmistakably. I wasn't sure what I was becoming — maybe I should call Claudine.

I went downstairs. Amelia was already at the table, a mug in one hand and her phone in the other, wearing one of her oversized sleep shirts that said WITCHES DO IT WITH SPELL. Her hair was up in a messy topknot, and she was mid-sip when she looked up and saw me. Her eyes narrowed. Then widened. Then grinned.

"Well well well," she said, setting the mug down with theatrical delicacy. "Look who finally emerged from the lair. Hope the floorboards held up."

I groaned, walking past her and pouring myself some coffee. "Don't start."

"Oh honey, I didn't have to start. I was here. The magic practically rattled the windows. If I'd known it was gonna be that intense, I'd have cast a muffling charm and gone out for the night."

I buried my face in the mug. "Amelia—"

"No, you don't get to Amelia me. That was not just sex. That was not even just really, really hot supernatural sex. That was some ancient, power-bonded, interdimensional soul-meldin' situation happening in there. Do I need to sage the hallway?"

I choked on my coffee.

She leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Did you bite him? Did he bite you? Because, girl, I felt the energy shift. And I'm pretty sure my fern in the living room died from the emotional fallout."

I finally looked at her, cheeks flaming. "Okay, yes. We bit each other. Happy now?"

Amelia gasped like she'd just won a reality show. "Oh. My. Goddess. Sookie Stackhouse, you bonded again? This wasn't just a hookup. That was full-blown metaphysical

entanglement."

"It's not like that," I muttered. "It's… complicated."

She gave me a look. "You think I don't know that? You live in complicated. I'm just saying, I saw how you were before he showed up — and now you're glowing like you just bathed in starfire."

I shrugged, but I couldn't stop the tiny smile curling at the corner of my lips. "He left me a note. Said he didn't want to wake me."

Amelia clutched her chest. "Oh no. The Viking leaves love notes now? We're all doomed."

"Shut up," I said, laughing.

She leaned back, satisfied. "I'm just glad you finally stopped pretending you don't want him.

It was exhausting, you know… watching you try to hate someone while secretly writing sonnets in your brain."

I didn't answer. Not right away. I took another sip of coffee and let the silence stretch.

Because yeah, last night changed something. Not just between us — inside me. I didn't know if the danger was over. I didn't even know if I'd made the right decision.

But I knew one thing for sure: Eric had given me something I hadn't felt in a long time.

I should call Claudine, just to clear my doubts.

Claudine tilted her head slightly, her expression sharpening. "Sookie, honey…" she said carefully, "did you exchange blood with Eric again last night?"

I hesitated.

"Yes," I admitted, slowly. "We both did."

Claudine blinked. "How many times now? Total?"

"I don't know—" I looked down at my hands. "Three? Four? Maybe more if you count the times when he healed me. But last night was… different."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Define different."

"It was…" I struggled for words. "Mutual. Intentional. Equal. Not just a sip here and there. It felt… like something bigger opened up between us."

Claudine went still — not in shock, exactly. In calculation. Like she was running an equation in her head and not liking the answer.

Then she murmured under her breath in a language I didn't understand. Not English. Not French. Fae.

"What?" I asked. My voice was too small for the room.

She stood abruptly and began pacing, her hands clenched at her sides. "This is something ancient," she said more to herself than to me. "Not just a bond. Not just magic. If the pattern holds…"

"Claudine, you're freaking me out," Amelia cut in.

"Good," Claudine snapped, spinning around. "Because I'm freaked out. This shouldn't be possible unless…"

"Unless what?" I stood too. My hands were glowing faintly now. Gold in my skin, like something under the surface was trying to push through.

Claudine looked at me, and her voice dropped low.

"If you've exchanged blood that many times — and if last night was… complete — then this may be beyond a simple bond."

My mouth was dry. "Beyond… how?"

"You might have triggered a joining rite. One that only happens between very specific fae lineages and other powerful immortals." She looked at me with something close to awe.

"This hasn't happened in our family in centuries."

I stared at her. "Wait. You're telling me Eric and I accidentally performed some kind of ancient supernatural marriage ritual?"

Claudine didn't answer right away.

"Wait…" she said sharply, eyes narrowing on me. "Back in Rhodes. At the summit. There was a moment — a ritual — something involving a dagger. I remember the energy around you. Do you remember that, Sookie?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "The blood ceremony," I whispered. "There was a dagger, yes. Andre wanted me to be tied, but Eric... he interfered. Took the dagger. He made the blood exchange with me. In front of the court."

Claudine's eyes widened. "Mother Moon."

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That wasn't just interference. That was claiming. In front of other monarchs. In a formal setting. With ritual blood."

I frowned. "I mean… I knew it was serious. But I didn't really get what it meant. Vampire things, you know?"

"I don't know vampire law that well," Claudine admitted. "But in fae law, a ritual with a blade — sealed in blood, witnessed — that's a binding vow. A joining of power. Sometimes even a soul-marking. Especially if the blood is given voluntarily."

"I didn't say the words, though. There weren't any vows."

Claudine shook her head. "Your blood spoke for you. Fae magic listens to intent, not always to language. And Sookie…" Her voice softened. "You wanted him to take it. You let him. That matters."

The kitchen had gone very quiet.

Amelia stopped moving entirely, like even the coffee pot was holding its breath.

"I don't know if vampires see it the same way," Claudine went on, her voice low and troubled.

"But I'd bet my wings that they do. And I'll bet Niall will agree."

She stepped forward suddenly and took my hands, her grip firm, her palms hot. "Listen to me. If that ritual in Rhodes meant what I think it did — and if the blood exchange last night sealed it — then this is bigger than you think. Bigger than Eric. Bigger than Victor."

My voice came out hoarse. "What am I supposed to do?"

Claudine gave me a look that was half-exasperated, half-concerned. "Ask him, Sookie. Ask Eric exactly what that blood ceremony meant. And don't let him brush you off."

"I…" I swallowed. "Okay."

Claudine nodded once, sharply. "Good. I'll go to Niall now. But I'll be back. Soon."

A shimmer of light gathered around her again, and with a final flick of her fingers and a worried glance at my still-glowing skin, she vanished in a rush of gold.

I turned to Amelia.

She was staring at me with huge eyes. "Sook… I think you're married. To a vampire. And possibly a demigod."

"Yeah," I muttered, dragging my hands down my face. "I need more coffee."

I wasn't ready for work. I wasn't ready for the Fae court if Niall decided to summoned me.

And I definitely wasn't ready to be some kind of magical vampire wife without a handbook and throwing my fists on the table first.

But Merlotte's didn't wait for existential crises. So I grabbed my purse and reached for the doorknob.

I opened the front door—and nearly collided with a mountain.

Well. A man, technically. But definitely mountain-sized.

He was standing with arms folded, broad shoulders stretching a charcoal t-shirt like it had offended him personally. Dark hair cut short, square jaw, mirrored sunglasses that didn't hide the low-level irritation of someone whose whole job was standing still. I didn't even need to reach with my senses to know what he was.

Werewolf. Strong. Focused. And not here by accident.

"Morning," he said gruffly.

"Uh… hi. Can I help you?"

He tilted his head. "Name's Joe. I'm here for you."

My stomach dropped. "For me? In what way, exactly?"

Joe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slim envelope, already crumpled like it had been in and out of his hands a few times. He handed it to me without ceremony.

Inside was a single card, heavy stock, black ink in Eric's unmistakable elegant scrawl:

Lover,

Joe will be your personal security until further notice.

Please, be gentle. Let me take care of you.

Yours,

E.

I exhaled sharply, lips pressed tight. Of course he sent a werewolf bodyguard. Of course he didn't ask me first. Eric Northman, king of gestures I didn't know I wanted.

I looked up from the note. "So… this is permanent?"

Joe shrugged. "Until the boss says otherwise. I'm not here to cramp your style. I stay out of the way, I don't talk much, and I take orders from you, not just him."

I blinked. "Wait, really?"

He nodded once. "That was the deal. If you don't want me, say the word. I'll go. But for what it's worth—" He lifted his glasses just enough to meet my eyes. They were surprisingly kind. "—you've got some serious heat on you, Miss Stackhouse. And I don't mean the weather."

I closed my eyes. Just for a second.

This was what it was like to be loved by Eric. No boundaries. No small gestures. Just sweeping protection and ancient instincts wrapped up in poetry and muscle. And damned if it didn't warm something in me that had been cold for too long.

I opened my eyes again. "Okay, Joe. Let's get this circus on the road."

He fell in step beside me as I locked the door, a quiet sentinel with a silver ring on his finger and a Glock tucked under his jacket. I didn't ask how I knew that. I just knew.

As we made our way to the car, I couldn't help thinking I used to go to work worried about late shifts and overcooked fries. Now I was carrying fae and vampire blood, magical heat signatures, and possibly the supernatural equivalent of a soul marriage.

Oh, and a werewolf bodyguard.

Amelia's voice echoed in my head from earlier.

"You're married. To a vampire. And possibly a demigod."

I snorted. "Only in Bon Temps."

The shift passed without incident, which in my world practically qualified as a miracle. No bar brawls, no fangbangers with bad manners, no surprise werewolves shedding in the booths.

Just burgers, beer, and the usual Bon Temps gossip floating around like humidity.

Joe picked a booth near the back — corner seat, good view of both entrances — and stayed planted there like a very large, very quiet security camera with arms. He ordered coffee once and sipped it slow. Didn't say a word. Didn't even blink much.

People noticed. Of course they did. By the time I was refilling the ketchup caddies, I'd already overheard two regulars theorize that he was either a bounty hunter or my new boyfriend. I didn't bother correcting them. Let 'em guess. I had enough explaining to do to myself lately.

But I wasn't surprised when Sam cornered me behind the bar. He leaned in close, casual, but I could read the concern in his eyes. "Sook, you okay?"

"Yeah." I wiped my hands on a towel. "More or less."

His eyes flicked toward Joe's booth, then back to me. "New friend?"

I sighed. "Eric's doing. He hired him. Bodyguard detail."

Sam frowned slightly, that crease between his brows deepening. "You in trouble?"

I shook my head. "Nothing official. But someone's been watching me. More than once. And not just at night."

Sam nodded slowly, leaning his arms on the bar. "You know, if you need help… if things get worse… I'm not without resources."

I smiled, soft and grateful. "I know. And I appreciate it, Sam. I really do. But for now, this is a vampire business. Eric's handling it."

That didn't make him look any less concerned, but he didn't push. "Just promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"If anything shifts — if you see something, feel something — you tell me. This is still your place. And I'd like it to stay that way."

My throat tightened. I reached across and squeezed his hand. "You're one of the good ones, Sam. I know I'm always safe here."

He looked away like he was embarrassed by the compliment, then nodded toward the floor.

"Booth seven's asking for more fries."

Back to it.

By four o'clock, all my tables were in order. I decided to pull out Eric's book of poems and venture out to read one a day.

I picked a page at random with my finger and read:

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

I find it hard to believe that Eric collected these poems in his years as a vampire. Something he's not telling me. Maybe he just cheated and got them from Pam. Although it doesn't seem right that it came from Pam either.

By five o'clock, I grabbed my bag and Joe rose silently from his booth the second I did it.

He followed me out without a word, his presence like a shadow — solid, unobtrusive, and constant.

I didn't know what tonight would bring. Not exactly. But I knew who'd be waiting for me when the sun set.

And despite everything — the fear, the questions, the damn fae politics — a part of me already burned to see him again.

Joe and I pulled into the driveway just as the sun tipped behind the trees, bleeding gold across the front porch. I parked, killed the engine, and turned to thank him, but he was already opening his door.

"I've been instructed to remain until relieved," he said before I could ask. His voice was low and calm, almost bored-sounding, but I knew better.

I fished my keys out of my bag. "You want to come in? I can fix you a sandwich or—"

He shook his head. "Porch is fine. Better view."

Right. Weird man. Definitely a Were. And definitely the kind who took his job with military precision. Not chatty. Not cozy. Just eyes like a hawk and a stillness that reminded me uncomfortably of vampires. Except warm-blooded.

"Suit yourself," I murmured.

He nodded once and took his post, settling into one of the rocking chairs like a statue with a pulse. I didn't envy him. The breeze had just enough bite to make the hairs on my arms stand up — the first whisper of a change in weather.

Inside, the house felt warm and familiar. Comforting, in a way I hadn't appreciated until lately. I tossed my keys in the bowl by the door, peeled off my shoes, and headed straight for the shower. The shift at Merlotte's had left me smelling like grease, beer, and whatever cologne Hoyt was wearing these days. Not exactly seduction-ready.

Steam rolled out as I stepped into the water, letting it rinse the day off me. My body ached in that bone-deep way only waitress work could cause. But underneath that, there was something… humming. Not tension. Not quite.

Energy. Huh. What was happening to me?

I didn't have answers. Not yet. But I knew I was going to ask Eric. And this time, I expected a real answer. No cryptic half-truths. No evasions. By the time I stepped out, toweled off, and changed into clean jeans and a soft teal blouse, the house felt quieter than usual. Not in a bad way. Just... waiting.

I ran a brush through my hair, tucked it behind my ears, and looked at myself in the mirror. Not quite a girl anymore. Not quite just human. I stepped away from the mirror, smoothing my blouse, when the air behind me changed again — that same shimmer and pull I now recognized as Fae.

A soft glow blinked into being by the kitchen doorway, and then there she was.

"Claudine," I said, startled but not surprised. "That was quick."

She looked more serious than usual. No glittering smile, no floaty warmth. Just business.

"I couldn't stay away," she said, stepping forward. "Sookie, I've spoken with Niall."

I blinked. "You told him?"

"I had to. He felt the echo in Faerie. When you and Eric…" she trailed off, eyes flicking toward the living room like the air still remembered it. "It wasn't just physical. You unleashed something. A ripple of old power. Very old."

"I don't even know what that means," I said. "I mean, yes, we've exchanged blood, but—"

"Four times at least, you told me" She interrupted me.

"Yes," I said after a beat.

She nodded, lips pursed. "And the ritual in Rhodes. With the knife. Do you understand what kind of binding that might have been, when combined with repeated blood-sharing and…everything else?"

"No," I admitted. "I never got a clear answer from anyone."

"That's because vampire law isn't something we study much in the Realm. But even we

know that a public ritual involving weapons and blood is rare. Symbolic. Permanent."

I swallowed. "So… what? Am I married to him now in vampire terms?"

Claudine winced. "That might not be far off. But it's deeper than marriage. The kind of bond that was activated last night… it's not just blood anymore, cousin. It's soul-deep. He's anchored in you now. And you, in him."

I sat down, heart thudding in my chest again. Claudine crouched in front of me, her tone softening. "Don't be afraid of it. But don't ignore it either. Niall's worried that this connection will draw attention. From others. Not just Victor.

Not just Felipe."

"What do I do?"

"For now, nothing. Breathe. Let it settle. But be careful, Sookie. You're glowing with power, and others might see that as a threat… or an opportunity. Niall and I will be vigilants"

"Great," I muttered. "Exactly what I needed. Another supernatural mystery and a target on my back."

Claudine offered a small smile. "You've always been more than you thought you were. I'll come back soon, when I know more."

She kissed my forehead — light and warm — and then, just like that, she vanished.

I sat there for a moment, listening to the house creak softly around me, the faint murmur of Joe's chair outside on the porch.

I wasn't alone. But damn if I didn't feel more exposed than ever.

And the sun was almost down. Eric would be here any minute.

Chapter Text

A/N: Just a warning, this is a long chapter.

Chapter 7: The Bond and the Blade

EPOV

She fell asleep in my arms with a sigh so content it hurt. Not a single word had to be said. Her body relaxed fully against mine, warm and alive and… glowing? That was the only word that came close.

The bond wasn't just a thread anymore. It was a flame. I'd felt it before, to a degree — the lingering presence of her in my blood, in my thoughts, in my hunger. But this… this was something older than blood. Older than my turning. It reached down into something I thought

I'd buried a thousand years ago: my sense of being. And it was hers now. I had never experienced a claiming like this — not even when I gave my blood to humans who begged for a taste of eternity, not even with the ceremonial exchange in Rhodes. This wasn't a performance. This wasn't politics.

This was union. Her magic had poured into me during the climax, a rush of golden warmth that tore through my mind like sunlight through stained glass. It didn't burn — not in the vampire sense — but it left me seen. Illuminated. Every shard of myself, even the fractured ones I'd spent centuries hardening, she had touched.

It was terrifying. It was exquisite.

She slept deeply now, wrapped in tangled sheets and the lingering scent of us. Her heartbeat echoed in my chest — not because it belonged to me, but because somehow, I belonged to it. I ran a hand through her hair, slow and reverent. I did not deserve this peace. But I would protect it with all that I had.

Her magic still shimmered faintly against my skin. Not visible, not even touchable — but sensed. I felt it in my bones. In the marrow. A shift. Like the moment before lightning splits a tree.

She had become more. And the bond… the bond responded. I could feel her soul.

Not like a vampire feels prey. Not like the hunger in my gut or the possessive curl of instinct. No. This was quieter. Deeper. A hum beneath the earth. A note only I could hear, vibrating through me like a forgotten song I once knew.

I leaned close and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "You have no idea what you've done, lover," I whispered. "But I do. And I will not fail you."

Dawn was coming. I could feel it in my blood, the tug toward earth and silence. I lay beside her a few more minutes and watched her sleep.

When the pull became too strong, I dressed in silence. Left my scent around the room and wrote her a note.

I had made the calls before the sun claimed me. Joe would arrive by morning. I didn't want her alone for another minute. Not while the bond still thrummed hot in my chest, not while her magic pulsed wild and untrained around her like a beacon. It was too exposed. Too new.

And if I could feel it…Gods help me, others might too. That thought settled like a stone in my gut. I didn't like relying on hope. "Hopefully not" was not a strategy — it was a prayer. And I stopped praying the night I first rose from the ground with fangs in my mouth and a hunger that never faded.

So I acted. Strategically. Immediately.

Joe would watch over her during the daylight hours, discreet but constant. He'd done work for me before — tracking, guarding, protecting secrets. He didn't speak much, which I considered a virtue. I'd trusted him with my own safety before. Now I was trusting him with something far more important. Her.

After that, I drove to one of my houses that I kept near Bon Temps. Vampires collect properties the way humans collect locks on their doors — not for living, but for surviving. And I had more than most. It was not where I wanted to be.

But it would serve. And as the final sliver of light vanished behind the pines, the sun took me.

I came back to myself before full dark. A gift only ancient vampires have— rising early.

Besides, my need to see her again pulled me through the veil of sleep like a tide pulling back to sea.

My body felt different. Stronger? My mind was… sharper, but fuller. I stretched in the silence of the tomb-like room and felt her before I reached for her.

She was at home. She was glowing. She was… over-thinking?

Her magic hadn't dulled — if anything, it had bloomed. I could feel it. And I could also feel it much more than before. We had shared blood at least three times with each other at the same time, counting Rhodes. I had given her some of my blood before, obviously, but not mutual exchange at the same time.

I'm sure now. The bond changed. I can feel her completely, as if she were me and I was her.

And it was louder than before. More alive. More mine.

Before I left, I sent new instructions to Pam — to post our quietest watchers at all known vampire routes through northern Louisiana. I didn't want Victor's movements tracked eventually. I wanted him watched now. If he so much as sent a message to one of his lackeys, I wanted to know.

I also told Pam I'd arrive at Fangtasia late. I had more important business first. I had to tell Sookie the truth. About Rhodes. About the blade. About what our blood had truly done.

Because if Claudine hadn't already explained it, someone else would. And I would not let the first words she heard about our bond come from a vampire who wanted to see her crushed.

I parked and immediately saw Joe. He was still stationed on her porch, arms folded, eyes tracking me before I even crossed the street. He gave a short nod — not of submission, but respect. Good. If Sookie needed anyone other than me in daylight, it would be him. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to. Wouldn't gawk. Wouldn't ask foolish questions.

"She's inside," he said, voice low. "Calm. No threats."

I nodded. "Any visits?"

"Her roommate came in through the back door, went directly to her bedroom. Otherwise, no."

"Perfect. You are dismissed, Joe. Thank you"

He nodded and took his leave.

I crossed the threshold a second later — no knock, no dramatic entrance. She had already invited me in, and I would never use that lightly. But tonight… tonight I needed to see her again. Without barriers. Without delay.

The door opened with a soft creak. And there she was. In jeans and a soft blouse. Hair pulled back. Barefoot. Nothing flashy.

Nothing that screamed "supernatural." But my whole body responded like she had just stepped out of firelight. She turned, sensing me — and our eyes locked.

Something in me went quiet. Like a bowstring loosed. Like I had just found the one true sound in a world of static.

"Sookie," I said.

She didn't smile. There was confusion in her aura. Uncertainty. Her magic brushed over me the way wind brushes trees — testing, recognizing, remembering. Her lips parted, but she didn't speak right away.

Then, softly, "You came."

"Yes."

"I thought you'd be at Fangtasia."

"I have time. And I told you… I would always come."

She hesitated. Then gestured toward the kitchen. "I was just making some tea. You want something?"

I followed her, slow and silent. "Only you."

She rolled her eyes, but it lacked heat. "That's such a vampire thing to say."

I leaned against the counter, watching the way her hands moved. Graceful. Distracted. She was trying to appear calm. But I could feel the pulse in her wrist from across the room. Fast. Fluttering.

"You felt it too," I said quietly. "This… change."

She nodded, barely.

"Something happened last night," she murmured. "Something more than just… that."

"I know," I said.

Finally, she turned to face me fully. Her gaze pinned me in place — not with anger, but with demand.

"Eric," she said. "What is happening?"

I stepped forward, close enough to feel the warmth of her body chase the cold from mine.

"I've come to answer that," I said. "But it isn't a short story. And it begins in Rhodes."

Her breath caught. She didn't move.

I reached gently, tracing the line of her collarbone where I had bitten her. "There are things you don't know. Not because I wanted to keep them from you — but because I didn't know how to explain what that ceremony meant. What it still means."

A long silence. Then she whispered, "Tell me now."

I nodded. "Yes. Tonight, you will know everything."

SPOV

He stood in my kitchen like a storm waiting to happen. Not the kind that ripped through your town and left wreckage in its wake — no, Eric was subtler than that. This was the kind of storm that built slowly on the horizon, purple-black clouds curling in on themselves, thunder low and close. The kind you could feel in your bones before you saw a single drop fall. Unstoppable. And, for reasons I still didn't understand, standing in my house with his hand brushing the edge of my counter like it grounded him.

I'd asked him to explain. I expected deflection. A joke. Maybe a little seduction to muddy the waters. But when he met my eyes, I knew this was serious.

"I should've told you sooner," he said quietly. "But I didn't know how."

He wasn't moving. He wasn't crowding me. But he was watching me so closely I felt like my skin was made of glass. I wrapped my hands around the warm tea mug, not because I wanted tea — I couldn't remember what kind I'd made — but because I needed something to hold onto.

"Start with Rhodes," I said. "Start with the blade."

He nodded once. "The blood ceremony."

My breath hitched. Just hearing him name it made it feel real again. That night — Andre, the summit, the vampire politics I'd been dropped into like a lamb into a pit of wolves.

"You remember what I said," I whispered. "That you interfered."

Eric's eyes burned. "It wasn't interference, Sookie. It was my intention."

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, until he was close enough that I could smell him — that wild, dark scent of deep and fresh ocean, that always seemed to tangle around my

heartbeat.

"In vampire custom, a blade used in blood is sacred. More than that — it's binding. It predates kings. Predates courts. The first covenants were made with blood and steel. And in Rhodes, when I took that dagger… when I cut myself for you… that wasn't rebellion."

He paused. Swallowed. The muscles in his jaw shifted, sharp as a confession.

"That was a vow."

I stared at him. "But you didn't say anything. There weren't any words."

"There didn't need to be. Not in that kind of ritual. My blood answered. Yours accepted. That was enough. Honestly, I didn't know my blood and yours would respond like this."

My throat went dry. "And what did that vow mean? Exactly."

"That I would protect you with my life. That I would put your blood above my king's. That I would take your enemies as my own. That your safety, your breath, your existence — was now my duty. My charge." He paused, voice lowering. "And my right. Forever."

I blinked. "Your right?"

He stepped back, giving me space even as the bond between us pulled tight again. "Not in the way you think. I didn't claim ownership. I claimed kinship. What we did in Rhodes was the closest thing our kind has to a soul binding. But it shouldn't have worked."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not a vampire." He was watching me like I held a piece of a puzzle he didn't even realize he'd lost. "But that night… the bond took. It held. It changed us both."

"And you didn't think to tell me this?" My voice cracked — not angry, not yet, but overwhelmed.

Eric bowed his head for a moment, something ancient moving behind his eyes. "At first, I thought it would fade. That you'd forget. You didn't remember all of it, and I… I let you believe it was just politics. I lied, yes. By omission. Because I was afraid that if you knew what we'd done, you'd run."

I stared down into my tea and whispered, "I did run."

"Yes," he said, gently. "But you came back."

I looked up at him again, and this time I saw it — the ache in his eyes. The kind that didn't come from bloodlust or pride or power. The ache of someone who'd waited a thousand years for a thing they didn't know they needed, only to find it once and nearly lose it again.

"So that's why the bond feels different now?" I asked. "Because we… what, completed something?"

Eric nodded. "Last night was the seal. The final offering. You gave me your blood, not in desperation or need — but in trust. In love. And I gave you mine freely. That matters."

"And you felt the magic?" I asked, a little breathless.

"Yes." His voice dropped to something barely audible. "Sookie… you lit me up from the inside. It wasn't just blood. It was… soul. Yours found mine. And for the first time in a

thousand years, I felt whole."

My breath caught. My throat burned. "Why does that sound terrifying?"

"Because it is," he said softly. "We don't survive long with this kind of bond. It makes us vulnerable. When you hurt, I bleed. When I fall, you'll feel the impact. But it also makes us powerful."

I shook my head, overwhelmed. "Claudine was here today… she said Niall needs to be informed. She thinks it's… something ancient. A fae rite too."

"I'm not surprised. Magic recognizes itself." He moved toward me again, slower this time, his fingers grazing the side of my jaw. "And yours… Sookie, you're changing. I don't even think you realize how much."

I let out a shaky laugh. "No kidding."

"But you're not alone," he added. "Not anymore. I'm yours. And not just by blood. Not just by magic. But by choice. That's the part no ceremony can fake."

We stood there in silence, his hand warm against my face despite his cold nature. My pulse was everywhere — behind my eyes, in my throat, between my ribs.

"I don't know what I'm becoming," I whispered.

"Then let me stand beside you while you find out."

A pause. And then:

"Eric," I said. "Do you regret it?"

He didn't even blink. "No. I only regret not telling you sooner. Not showing you sooner."

His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, reverent. "But I will now. Everything. I'm yours too, Sookie. You don't need a vow. You already have me."

"But you made a vow, and I didn't. That seems unfair" I protested.

"My lover," He took my face in his hands. "You did not say the words, but if we are here in this situation now, it is because your soul did make the vow."

"It's funny, isn't it? How the soul sometimes knows what you need without you even knowing it." I gave him a timid smile. I stepped into him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his chest. "I'm not afraid, Eric".

"Neither do I, lover".

"Where are you taking me tonight?" I asked, my voice soft but pointed. "You said you still had to prove yourself to me, right?"

Eric arched one of those unfairly aristocratic brows. It should've made him look smug.

Instead, it made my stomach flip.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "I'm not done courting you, lover."

Courting. Good Lord. He said it like we were in a medieval romance and I was some mysterious lady of the court whose virtue depended on his chivalry and swordsmanship.

"I was thinking," he added, "of taking you out to dinner."

I blinked. "Dinner? As in, me eating while you… what? Judge my table manners?"

His mouth twitched at the corner. "As in you enjoying yourself while I enjoy the view."

I crossed my arms, a little flustered. "I'm not even dressed for dinner."

And that's when he stepped closer — again with the slow, predatory grace, like he was giving me every second to run. His hands slid to my waist, warm and sure, and he leaned in just enough to make the air around us thrum.

"That," he said, "can be remedied."

Before I could ask what that meant, he turned me gently toward the front door, one hand at the small of my back.

And then I saw them. Bags. So many bags.

Stacked neatly on the porch like some kind of couture offering to the goddess of Southern girls who didn't ask for vampire sugar daddies. Dozens of them. Tissue paper blooming out the top of every one. Labels I'd only ever seen in fashion magazines. Some I couldn't even pronounce. And it wasn't just clothes. There were shoes. Purses. Lingerie. Was that perfume? Was that JEWELRY?

My jaw dropped.

"What the hell," I breathed. "Eric Northman, did you just try to buy me?"

He tilted his head, all calm confidence. "I tried to prepare you for dinner."

"This isn't preparation. This is a boutique invasion."

"I had help," he said, not even pretending to be sorry.

"Pam," I muttered. "This has Pam written all over it."

"She did assist in selecting the pieces," he said. "But I told her to focus on things that felt like you."

I whirled on him. "You think you can bribe me with high fashion?"

He shrugged one elegant shoulder. "I think you deserve silk instead of polyester and leather that hasn't been on sale for three seasons."

"Oh my God," I snapped, even as I stepped forward and peeked into one of the bags. A pair of red-soled stilettos gleamed like sin itself. "You are insufferable."

"You haven't even seen the dresses yet."

"I don't need to see the dresses."

"You'll like the green one," he murmured. "It brings out your eyes. The other is black. Classic.

Bare at the back."

I swatted at his chest. "You are unbelievable."

His grin was all fang and danger, but somehow boyish too. "Just say thank you, lover. And then let me dress you."

"I'm not your doll."

"No," he said, voice dropping an octave. "You're mine. And you deserve to be adorned, not because I want to buy your affection… but because I've never met a woman who wears her strength more beautifully."

Oh. Damn him. I should've pushed back harder. I should've insisted I didn't want designer heels or cashmere scarves or anything that made me feel like I was stepping into some other woman's life.

But the truth was… part of me loved it. Not the price tags. Not the labels. The intention. Because Eric Northman didn't throw away resources lightly. He didn't spend effort on things he didn't care about. And this — all of this — was effort. From him. For me.

I exhaled, then tilted my chin. "Alright. You get your dinner date."

He smiled, pleased.

"But I pick the outfit," I added.

"I wouldn't dream of taking that joy from you."

"And this is not going to become a habit."

"Of course not," he said solemnly. "Just an indulgence."

"You're trouble," I muttered, already reaching for one of the smaller bags. "You know that, right?"

He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. "I'm your trouble."

And the worst part? I liked the way that sounded.

I should have suspected, he was already dressed for dinner. In dark pants, a shirt and a light blue sweater, impeccable. On top, his jacket.

I chose the blue dress. It wasn't just blue — it was midnight. The kind of blue you see in dreams, or deep water under starlight. A shade that didn't shout, didn't sparkle. It shimmered. The bodice was fitted, high and delicate, with lace that kissed over my collarbones and wrapped down to three-quarter sleeves. The floral patterns stitched into the lace felt soft against my skin, intricate and a little daring — like something out of a vintage Parisian boutique. Modest but unforgettable.

It cinched at the waist with a satin ribbon bow, just enough to define my shape without making me feel like I was trying too hard. From there, the skirt flared out in gentle pleats, falling to mid-calf in smooth, heavy satin. It moved when I walked — not swishing like a girl at prom, but gliding. Like a woman who knew exactly where she was going.

It was elegant. Southern. Romantic in the quiet, deadly way only vampires and true ladies knew how to be.

I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. But not because I looked like someone else. I took a closer look and could see little sparkles on my hands and feet, as well as in my hair.

Anyways, I looked like me. Like the version of me Eric always saw when he looked at me — fierce, soft, wanted, worthy.

And yeah, the heels matched too. Silver. Subtle. Perfect. I completed it with a matching lightweight spring coat.

I stepped out of the bedroom, Eric stood near the door. When he turned and saw me, he didn't say anything at first. Just… looked. Like he was remembering something and seeing something new, all at once. His gaze swept slowly from the hem of my dress to my face, and for a second, I thought maybe he forgot how to breathe. Which was funny, because vampires don't need to.

"Well...You approve?" I teased, twirling once.

He stepped closer. "You're breathtaking."

I smiled and said quickly because I felt the lust in him "And we're leaving right now."

He offered his arm like an old-world gentleman. "Bad woman."

Dinner was quiet, cozy — an old stone inn-turned-restaurant just past Shreveport.

Candlelight flickered off pressed tin ceilings, and the booths had enough privacy to let us laugh freely, talk about things that didn't involve blood or magic or Victor Madden.

Eric didn't eat, of course. He ordered a special blend, some exotic mix of synthetic and donated blood, stored just for higher clientele. He tried a sip — just two — and grimaced like someone had handed him warm diet soda at a champagne tasting.

I raised a brow. "That bad?"

He slid the glass aside without comment. "I've acquired a more refined taste lately."

"Don't blame me for ruining you."

He smirked, slow and sharp. "Oh, I do. Entirely."

I ate everything. Every course. Salad with a tangy vinaigrette, grilled chicken stuffed with herbs and goat cheese, some kind of mashed sweet potato so smooth it practically whispered on my tongue. I didn't care that he wasn't eating. I wasn't going to shrink myself into half a dinner for anyone — especially not a thousand-year-old Viking who adored me just the way I was. I remember I could never eat like that with Bill, he was repulsed by the sight of me eating human food. I never quite understood why. It felt refreshing sometimes to go out to dinner, like normal people, with absolutely normal lives, in love.

We laughed a lot. He told me a story about a vampire in Venice who tried to seduce a cardinal and accidentally ended up inspiring a famous painting. I told him about the time Jason tried to grill bacon and set fire to the kitchen ceiling.

For the first time in a long while, I felt… normal. Then his phone rang.

He looked at the number, his jaw tightening. Pam. Eric answered without a word, rising from the table and turning just slightly away from me. I couldn't hear what she said. But I didn't need to. His face shifted — still, cold, focused. The same expression he used when he was preparing for war. I set down my fork.

He hung up and turned back to me. "We need to go."

I blinked. "What happened?"

"I'll explain on the way," he said, already reaching for my coat. "Something's happened at Fangtasia."

The warmth from dinner drained from my spine. I nodded once, standing. The night wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Fangtasia was buzzing when we pulled up — but not with music or revelry. The energy was tense, like a room full of people who'd all just realized the fire alarm was fake but might go off again any second.

Eric didn't speak much on the drive. His jaw was clenched, his aura as unreadable as ever, but I could feel his urgency vibrating through the bond like low thunder. A bit overwhelming I must say.

The second we stepped through the side entrance, Pam met us.

"Finally," she said. She looked immaculate, of course, but her hands twitched at her sides.

"We've got a situation."

Eric didn't flinch. "What kind?"

Pam shot me a brief glance. "You may want her to stay in your office."

"She stays with me," Eric said, brushing past her. "Explain."

Pam fell into step beside us, voice low and clipped. "We had a death tonight."

My stomach dropped. "A… human?"

Pam nodded, eyes flat. "Glamoured. Drained. Left slumped in a booth during business hours. Nobody noticed until it was too late. She was still warm."

"Who?" Eric demanded.

"Local. Worked at a bar across town. Not one of ours."

"Who found her?"

"Ginger. Screamed so loud my eardrums are still vibrating."

I swallowed. "Victor?"

Pam didn't answer. She just pushed open the door to Eric's office and stepped aside.

The room smelled faintly of blood and something else — ozone? Magic?

A male vampire was already inside, tall and gaunt, with slicked-back dark hair and the sort of tailored smugness that usually came with a political title. He was standing over the body, which had been placed carefully on the rug. A young woman, no older than me, with blonde hair and pale lips. Bite marks neat and tidy. Her eyes were still open.

Eric went stone-cold still. Then: "Close the door, Pam."

I did it myself before Pam could.

"Who the hell is he?" I asked, pointing at the strange vampire.

"Regis," Eric said without looking at me. "Victor's latest attaché. Smuggled into Louisiana last week under some bullshit cover about trade."

The vampire turned to face us, unbothered. "Sheriff Northman. We meet again. Under difficult circumstances."

Eric stepped forward, glacial. "You think leaving a body in my bar will rattle me?"

Regis smiled, slow and cold. "Not at all. This wasn't meant to rattle. It was meant to warn."

I tensed. "Warn who?"

Regis turned to me. "You."

Eric's fangs slid down in a blink. "You will not speak to her."

"I'm simply delivering the message," Regis said with faux innocence. "Ah, so it is true" Said as he took a closer look at me and Eric. "You two are bonded… I must admit that when we heard about the ceremony at Rhodes we couldn't believe it, we thought it was a charade, a vampire and a human, bonded for eternity? Surely you're not that obtuse Northman" He said as he took a few steps behind Eric's desk, showing authority. "But now that I see you two...and," He takes a big breath to smell better "Ah, my dear, you are...refreshing, you exude the essence of Northman, but underneath...what's that? Such a peculiar scent. I think Felipe will be happy about this news" With an intimidating smile "As for Victor, we wish to avoid any impertinence in the order of our community. This... human," he said shaking the body with his foot "will be recorded as death in your bar, no good, no no no no... Be careful Eric, Felipe doesn't give second chances".

My fingers curled and the inside of my palms started to burn. "You're threatening him?"

"No," Regis said, hands up. "I'm merely passing a message"

Eric squeezed my wrist, to signal me to be quiet, and grunted.

Regis didn't flinch. "Careful, Northman. This isn't a declaration of war. Not yet. But you have tied your fate to something… unstable it appears, not a mere telepath. The crown watches more closely now than ever."

Eric moved before I could see it happen — a blur of fury and cold air — and the next second,

Regis was slammed against the wall, Eric's hand tight around his throat.

"You come near her again," Eric growled, "and I will rip the marrow from your bones and feed it to your maker."

Regis just smiled. "And that, Sheriff, is what they're afraid of."

Pam stepped in then, touching Eric's shoulder. "Not now," she murmured. "Not here."

Eric held Regis another beat, then let him drop.

The other vampire straightened his jacket, smoothed his sleeves, and looked at me like I was a meteor no one had wanted to land.

"I'll see myself out."

He vanished in a blur.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Pam finally muttered, "Well. That could have gone worse."

Eric looked at me then. Really looked. His eyes were molten steel.

"I'm sorry you saw that."

"I'm not" I said.

He crossed the space between us and took my hand. "They will not touch you. I will not allow it."

"I know," I said, softly. "But I think they're going to try anyway."

He nodded. "Then let them come."

Pam looked between us, and for once, her smirk was gone. "You two are fire and kerosene.

Victor's hoping one of you lights the match."

I met Eric's eyes again. "I think," I said, "we already did."

Eric shut the office door behind us with more force than necessary. I felt it in my chest like a soft boom.

"Sit," he said gently. "Please."

I didn't. Not yet. "Tell me, Eric. All of it. About Rhodes. About the bond. About what they really want."

He looked at me like I'd just asked him to slice open his own chest.

And then, slowly, he pulled off his jacket, folded it with care, and placed it on the chair. It wasn't about neatness — it was a ritual. A way to slow himself down before he bared something deeper.

"I should have told you this long ago." He began to pace. "Rhodes wasn't just about keeping you safe from Andre. It was… a statement. I used a ritual dagger. In front of vampire royalty. I offered you my blood with steel. You offered yours freely. That's not something we do lightly. Not in public."

I frowned. "So you claimed me, like a pet?"

"No." His voice was sharp. Then softer: "I claimed you… like a partner. A power equal.

Whether they believed it or not, I declared to every monarch in that room that I was willing to bind myself to you. Permanently."

I sat down. Hard. "But I didn't know that. You never told me that."

"I didn't think you would stay," he admitted. "Not then. I wanted to protect you first, win you later."

I stared at him. "So… what we did last night… the magic, the blood, all of that — it sealed it?"

"Yes." His voice broke slightly. "We didn't just strengthen a bond. We activated a joining.

Something I don't fully understand myself. But I feel it now, more than ever. And so can they."

He sat beside me, not too close. Not yet. "Victor wants control. He's Felipe's second-to-go but he is clearly trying to take Louisiana from him piece by piece, he is already a powerful Sheriff himself of Area 1. And if he can get to you — use you — break our bond and bond you to one of his lieutenants or himself…"

"I'd be his weapon."

"You would be his queen," Eric said, bitterly. "He would brand it as political unity. An asset.

He would force you into something ancient and binding. And he might not even wait for your permission."

I stared down at my hands. They were faintly glowing again.

"You didn't sign up for this," he said softly. "I know. And if I could take the burden off you, I would. But the bond between us — what we did — it's real. And rare. You're not just bonded to a vampire, Sookie. You're a fae-descended telepath with volatile magic and a direct link to one of the most politically dangerous sheriffs in North America."

I let out a long, shaky breath. "What now?"

Eric reached out slowly, brushed his knuckles over my hand. "Now we make our next move carefully. And together. If you'll let me."

I didn't answer with words. I leaned in, rested my head against his shoulder. "Together, then."

I kissed him. "I need to take some air, I'm gonna go to the bar". He nodded and let me go.

EPOV

Pam shut the door behind Sookie like she was locking out a storm. She turned to face me, arms crossed, mouth tight.

"Well," she said coolly, "that went to hell fast."

"Regis is bait. Victor is the hand behind the curtain."

"I know. But it's a bold move, even for Victor. A public death, glamoured. In our bar?" Her lips curled. "He's showing off."

"He's pushing me," I agreed. "Trying to provoke a slip."

Pam studied me. "And what would you call what happened in that room? A demonstration of restraint?"

I didn't answer.

Pam sighed. "Look. I'm not saying Sookie doesn't mean something to you. I like her… mostly. But Eric — you're compromised. They see it. Smell it. Regis felt it in the air the second you walked in. Your emotions are all over your scent right now."

I clenched my fists. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think you're leading with your heart. That's not how we survive, Eric. Not in Felipe's court. Not with Victor hunting for cracks in the glass."

I turned away, jaw tight.

She softened — slightly. "I'm with you. I'll back your claim. I always have. But if you want to keep her — and keep us all alive — we need leverage. A political ally. Another monarch. Someone who'll see your bond not as a weakness but a strength."

I glanced back. "You're suggesting an alliance."

"A temporary one. A favor owed. Maybe even a pledge."

I nodded slowly. "Reach out to Russell Edgington."

Pam blinked. "He's mad as hell."

"But smart. And he hates Felipe more than we do."

She smiled, sharp. "Oh, this will be fun." Then she paused. "One more thing, Eric."

"Yes?"

She tilted her head. "If you're going to fall in love with her… do it fast. Or don't do it at all. Because half-measures are what get people killed."

I said nothing. Because I already had. And it was far too late for half-measures.

The ride back to Sookie's house was filled with the silence of held breath. She sat beside me, not speaking, but I could feel the storm in her. Her magic buzzed like static electricity under her skin — a quiet, golden vibration that made the hair on my arms rise. It wasn't fear. It was awareness. Power learning how to sit inside her. Like she was unfolding. I wanted to reach for her, settle a hand on her thigh, her shoulder — anywhere to remind her she wasn't alone. But I didn't. Not yet. Not until I told her everything. I'd spent centuries mastering silence. But with her, it scraped my throat raw.

When we pulled up to the house, Sookie reached for the keys, but I touched her wrist gently.

"Wait."

She turned, her eyes meeting mine — full of questions she hadn't asked yet.

"I meant what I said," I told her. "You won't face this alone."

"I know." She swallowed. "But I don't want to be your weakness."

I leaned in, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

"You are not, Sookie" I said. "You are the reason I remember what it is to care."

She looked away, blinking hard. And then she stepped out of the car.

I followed.

We barely made it to the porch before the air shifted. Thickened. Sparked.

And then it opened.

I knew immediately what it was — not vampire. Not witch. Something older. Lighter. Wild.

The shimmer of the veil snapped like silk, and standing there, framed in pale moonlight, was a tall, regal man with golden hair and a face too perfect for mortals to comprehend.

The Price of the Fae. Niall Brigant.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Blood and Bloom

SPOV

The moment Niall turned his head to look at him, the air thickened like honey in my throat. They stared at each other in perfect, predator silence — two ancient forces dressed as men, both too beautiful, too still, to be real. Eric's jaw was clenched. Niall's eyes — colorless and bright like moonstone — flicked once over him, then down to our hands, still loosely linked.

"Grandfather," I breathed.

His smile was soft, but not comforting. Regal. Aloof. Dangerous.

"My Sookie," he said. "You shine brighter than ever."

Eric stepped in front of me instinctively. A useless gesture, I knew, but one I made without thought. Niall's gaze flicked to me. It wasn't hostile. But it wasn't warm either.

"Northman."

"Prince," he said with a short nod.

He glanced at our clasped hands. And then something passed through his face — a glimmer of thought too complex and alien for me to name.

"Let us speak inside," Niall said.

We obeyed.

"You've tasted her magic," Niall said, his voice calm and echoing slightly. "You've tied your blood to hers. And now she burns brighter than ever. Do you know what you've done?"

"I do," Eric said. No hesitation. "And I will stand by it. Whatever it means."

Niall's gaze shifted to me. "And you, Sookie? Do you understand what you're becoming?"

"No," I said honestly. "Not really. I only know that I feel… different. Stronger. But still me."

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Not for long. The bond you sealed last night didn't just deepen. It unlocked. Your fae blood — dormant all this time — has been called forward by the vampire blood. And because of who Eric is… what he is… it responded."

I swallowed. "So what does that mean? Am I… turning into something?"

"In time, yes," Niall said. "Your power is waking. You'll feel it in your skin, your breath, your instincts."

Eric was still, but his fingers tightened slightly on mine.

"You mean… like a fairy?" I asked.

"You're already Part Fairy," Niall said. "This will be something new, I'm afraid. Something that hasn't existed in centuries. Because you're not just my blood. You're your own. The telepathy trait is not from us, remember and we don't have enough information on that."

I sat slowly on the arm of the couch. "And what does that mean for the vampires? For Eric?"

Niall looked at Eric again. His expression was almost… pitying.

"She is now more powerful than some of your elders. And she's still evolving. That makes her a threat." He said to Eric.

Eric nodded, his face grim. "I suspected as much."

"She's the only bonded non-vampire with access to fae magic. That's unheard of," Niall continued. "You marked her in public at Rhodes. That was law. You sealed it with shared blood. That is binding. But now… now she glows. She thrums with power."

"And vampires hate what they can't control," I said quietly.

Niall's eyes softened just a touch. "Precisely."

Eric stepped forward, his voice steel. "Victor left a body in my bar tonight. A message. They know. They're watching her."

Niall tilted his head. "Victor is dangerous. Felipe, worse. But you must understand — if Sookie becomes what I think she might… she could unmake the balance of your entire system. She will have enough power by herself to destroy Felipe"

I looked up. "But I didn't ask for that. I didn't choose this. I don't even want to take Felipe down!" I exclaimed.

"You chose him," Niall said gently. "And he, you. The magic chose the rest."

A long silence fell. Finally, Eric said, "So what's the cost?"

Niall turned to him. "She will be hunted. Fae enemies, vampire enemies. Perhaps witches."

"And what's the gain?" I asked.

"You will no longer be hunted blindly," Niall said. "You will be seen. You will be feared. And with time, you may wield magic that rivals the oldest fae."

I couldn't breathe.

Eric moved beside me, not touching me — shielding me. "And what of us?" he asked. "Do you recognize the bond?"

Niall studied him for a long moment. "I do. Though I loathe what you are, Northman, I see what you've done. You did not take. You invited. That is rare in your kind. And she chose you. I have to respect my great-granddaughter wishes, even though they may cause disturbance in our kingdoms. That will be my job."

He turned to me. "I will not tear you apart. I will help you. But understand, Sookie — this changes everything. If you love this vampire… if you trust him… then he must help train your power. Protect it. Defend it."

Eric met his gaze. "I will."

"And if you fail, vampire," Niall said, eyes glowing faintly, "I will take her back to the Fae Realm."

My skin prickled. But I stood, stepping between them.

"He won't fail," I said. "We won't fail, just tell me what I have to do".

"Your magic is no longer passive," he said, stepping to stand near the window. The light hit his hair like moonbeams on snow. "You've been reacting to danger all your life. Now, you will begin to direct it."

I rubbed my palms against my dress. "Okay. So… what does that mean? I get a wand? Do I start chanting in Fae?"

Niall didn't smile, but his voice softened a fraction. "It means control. Command. Focus. You're no longer a conduit. You're becoming a source."

Eric shifted beside me. I could feel his attention sharpen, like the bond between us had perked up its ears.

"She's part human," Eric said. "Will that limit her?"

Niall turned. "It may delay her. But it won't stop her."

I swallowed. "And… what exactly will I be able to do?"

He stepped closer. "That depends on how willing you are to embrace it. At its core, fae magic is rooted in intent and blood. With discipline, you'll be able to—" He paused, eyeing me "—conduct glamour. Cast shielding spells. Sense lies. Influence emotion. Heal wounds.

Maybe more."

I blinked. "You're saying I could glamour someone like a vampire?"

Eric turned sharply to me, then to Niall.

"That's dangerous," he said flatly. "If anyone sees her do that—"

"They won't," Niall interrupted. "If you both are wise. That is why she must begin training immediately."

I sat down hard. "You're staying here?"

"No," he said. "But I will assign a guide. One of our blood. You'll practice when it's safe, not here, of course. You'll learn shielding first. Then sensory expansion. Then projection."

"Wait." I glanced at Eric. "What about him? I mean… he's bonded to me now. Will he feel any changes?"

Niall's gaze flicked to Eric, unreadable again. "He will be more affected than he realizes. His bond to you is not merely emotional. When your power grows, his perception of you will shift. His need for you will deepen."

Eric didn't blink. "That's already happened."

"You may find," Niall continued, "that your powers echo in him. He may be able to feel your magic as sensation — heat, vision, instinct."

I turned to Eric, surprised. "Is that true?"

Eric's voice was low, serious. "I felt something last night. It ran through me. Like a wave. A golden wave." He looked at Niall. "Is that permanent?"

Niall nodded. "And it will grow. Your senses are old, but bonded magic doesn't discriminate.

You will feel what she feels in your own body. Perhaps even dream what she dreams."

I put a hand to my chest. "That sounds… intimate."

Eric's jaw was tight. "Dangerous."

Niall crossed the room and knelt before me — a strange, gentle movement from someone who was the closest thing I'd ever met to a god.

"You are not a weapon, Sookie," he said. "But you are becoming powerful enough to be one.

You must decide if you'll be a shield… or a sword."

"I've never been much of a killer."

He touched my chin. "Power doesn't care about your preference. That's why it must be shaped."

I exhaled, hard. "Okay. Fine. I'll train. But I need something first."

Niall didn't shimmer away this time. Instead, he stepped toward me, his glowing eyes softer now. For all his elegance and superiority, I could see something new there: concern. Not just political, but personal.

"You want to know what happens next," he said. It wasn't a question.

I nodded, my throat dry. "Am I… going to live forever?"

Niall tilted his head slightly, considering the shape of the truth. "No. Not in the vampire sense. But you've passed the threshold of normal human aging. That moment was sealed the night you completed the bond with will remain as you are now…"

Eric tensed at my side. "You mean—"

"I mean," Niall continued, "her lifespan is now tethered to both her fae blood and the vampire magic she's absorbed. The bond you forged — with blood, with will, and under witness — was not just symbolic. It was transformative. Her human aging has slowed dramatically, and it may stop altogether."

I felt my knees weaken, but I didn't sit.

"Do I become a vampire?" I whispered.

"No, child," Niall said gently. "You remain yourself. But with fae blood awakened, and vampire blood bound, you are something new. You walk in two worlds now. You'll be long-lived — centuries. Perhaps longer. Unless you are killed, you will not die in any way that humans do."

Silence fell, heavy as dusk.

"But why?" I asked. "Why does the bond do that? What changed?" Niall folded his hands behind his back, and the light around him dimmed slightly, as if even he felt the weight of this next part.

"Because you didn't just exchange blood," he said. "You gave it willingly, lovingly, and you did it more than once. And then… in Rhodes, under blade and ceremony, you did it before a gathering of supernatural authority. That is ancient magic, Sookie. Older than the vampires realize. When a fae willingly bonds to an immortal through blood and ritual, the soul responds. The body adapts. The bond becomes unbreakable."

I glanced at Eric. His face was unreadable — but his eyes weren't. They were full of fierce, protective pain.

"So… I'm bound to him, for eternity" I said, not sure if it was a question or a realization.

Niall nodded. "Irrevocably. Your souls are tethered now. If one dies, the other will feel it and likely die too. If one suffers, the other bleeds. You also may not be able to separate from the other for too long"

Eric stepped forward then, voice tight. "Can it be undone?"

Niall didn't hesitate. "No."

I exhaled sharply, but I couldn't tell what I was feeling. Relief? Terror? Maybe both.

"Does this… change him?" I asked, voice smaller now. "Will Eric be different because of me?"

Niall's smile turned cryptic. "Yes. That's what no vampire tells you — because most of them never reach this level of bond. They see blood as power, not transformation. But when it's mutual… when love enters the equation… even they are not immune to change."

Eric looked at me then, truly looked — like I'd carved a wound into his ancient soul and filled it with sunlight.

"I would do it again," he said. "Even knowing it's forever."

Niall inclined his head toward him — a gesture of rare approval. "Then may you both understand what you've begun."

He turned to me one last time. "Your path will be dangerous, Sookie. There are those who will want your blood now — not for desire, but for conquest. Your magic is blooming. They will try to harvest it, enslave it, bend it to their cause."

"Victor?" I asked. Not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Yes, Victor is one of them. Because you are the one thing vampire society cannot control," he said. "You were supposed to be weak. A human pet for them. But now? Now you're bonded to one of the most formidable vampires in the region, and your magic is singing through the ley lines. The moment you exert power in public, someone will report it. Victor doesn't just want to intimidate you. He wants to erase you. Because he's afraid."

Eric's voice was like smoke and steel. "And if they can't kill her?"

"Then they will try to take her," Niall said. "To use her. To mate her into bloodlines. To drain her slowly. To bind her with spells older than their own kingdoms."

My stomach turned cold. Eric's hand found mine again, tightly.

"I will never allow that," he said.

"I won't let them," I said.

"No," Niall said with a glint of pride, "I don't think you will."

Then Niall straightened his shoulders, and with a shimmering twist of air, said, "I must go. I've lingered too long. But I'll send someone tomorrow. She must begin at once." He added, voice already shifting into the air. "Until then — stay close. To him."

And then, with a shimmer of gold and the faint scent of wildflowers, he was gone. I stood in the stillness of my house, feeling like the world had turned sideways. The shimmer of Niall's exit still hadn't faded from the air, and yet the room felt impossibly still. My skin was warm from the afterglow of his magic, but inside, I was cold. Dizzy.

I turned slowly to Eric.

He was standing by the window, back to me, arms folded so tightly across his chest I thought he might crush his own ribs. The amber light from the porch bled across his shoulder, outlining him like something carved from dusk and iron.

"Eric," I said, softly. He didn't move. "I need you to look at me."

A beat passed. Then another. Finally, he turned — not all the way, but enough for me to see the twist in his brow, the tension in his mouth. Not anger. Pain.

"I'm not angry," I told him. "I just… I need the truth. From you. Now."

He finally faced me fully, eyes locking with mine. They were raw. Unmasked.

"Do you still want this?" I asked, and my voice trembled. "Do you want me, after all this?

After what I'm becoming? Because if you don't—if you're second-guessing it, or if this bond makes you feel trapped—we can find a way to separate. I won't hold you."

His face darkened. "Sookie—"

"I mean it. I would rather face this with the faeries than hold you to something you didn't truly choose."

He crossed the room in two strides. "Don't say that," he hissed, his voice low and barely in control. "Don't ever think I would want to undo us."

"But I had no idea it would change this much. You didn't tell me what Rhodes meant. You didn't explain—"

"Because I was afraid," he snapped. "Afraid that if I told you the depth of it, you would run.

That you would think I manipulated you again. And I couldn't bear that. Not from you."

His voice broke slightly on the last word. It tore through me.

"Eric," I said, quieter now, because my heart was breaking open in all the wrong ways.

"I thought I could keep my feelings… measured," he said, almost to himself. "Manageable.

I've lived more than a thousand years keeping things in boxes. Contained. But you—" He looked at me like I was the first storm he ever saw. "You don't fit in boxes. You turn them to ash."

I moved closer, chest aching. "So tell me, now. Please. What do you want?"

He reached for my hand — slow, reverent, like I might burn him — and pressed his palm to mine.

"I want you," he said. "Even if it's dangerous. Even if it changes everything. I've wanted you long before this bond. And I will want you long after the world makes us pay for it."

A long silence.

Then he exhaled through his nose and dropped his gaze for the first time.

"There's something else," he said.

I felt my pulse quicken. "What is it?"

He looked up again, and there was something like fear in his eyes — not for himself. For me.

"I knew what the bond might do," he admitted. "Maybe not this exactly. Not the depth of your fae blood or the soul-bond. But I knew the Rhodes ritual wasn't just a political act. I knew it had the potential to make you mine — truly mine — in ways that couldn't be undone."

My breath caught.

"And I let it happen anyway," he said, voice rough. "I told myself it was to protect you. That tying you to me would keep you out of the Queen's hands. And that was true… but it wasn't the whole truth."

"Then what was?"

"I wanted you tied to me," he confessed. "I needed it. I was terrified that you would leave, that you would choose a human life, or someone safer. And I didn't want to lose you. So I claimed you… and I didn't tell you how deep it went."

It hit me like a stone. Not because it was cruel — but because it was honest. Painfully, messily honest.

I reached out and touched his cheek. "You did it out of fear?"

He nodded once. "For the first time in centuries… yes. I was afraid."

"And now?" I asked. "Now that it's done?"

He leaned into my touch. "Now, I would do it again. But this time, I'd tell you first. I'd ask. I'd kneel, if I had to."

The lump in my throat broke into something half-sob, half-laugh.

I stepped into his arms, let him hold me. His strength wrapped around me like armor, and yet

I felt more fragile than ever. Because love like this — terrifying, total — was its own kind of war.

When I finally pulled back, I said softly, "Then we fight together. No more secrets."

Eric nodded, eyes glowing faintly in the low light. "Together, lover. Until the end."

I never wanted to be a player in supernatural politics. I wanted quiet. I wanted peace. But peace was a luxury people like me didn't get anymore. I'd spent so long just trying to survive — hiding my head, ducking the bullets. But now… now I had fire in my blood and eyes on my back. If I didn't step forward, they'd push me. And if they pushed me, they'd regret it.

I wasn't ready to lead. But I was done running.

EPOV

Felipe would never allow something he couldn't control to survive. That was the first rule of vampire kings: if it breathes power, it must bleed allegiance. But Sookie? She was bonded, and evolving. What terrified Felipe — and made Victor rabid — was that she wasn't just powerful. She was unpredictable. They didn't know her limits. And for creatures who'd survived millennia by cataloging every threat, that made her the most dangerous kind of anomaly. And me? I was no longer just the sheriff bonded to a telepath. I was the vampire who gave a ticking bomb a heart.

"Eric," she said, "I need you to look at me." I didn't want to. Not because I didn't want to face her — but because I already knew what I'd see. That look in her eyes: open, brave, and impossible to lie to. My shield of centuries wouldn't help me now.

I turned anyway. For her, I always would.

"I need the truth," she said. "Do you still want this? Me? After everything that's happened… everything I'm becoming?"

She didn't raise her voice. Didn't demand. But I felt her question like a dagger in the ribs — sharp and precise.

"If you don't," she continued, "we can find a way to separate. I won't hold you. I won't chain you to something you didn't choose."

Gods. Why is she even asking me this?

"Sookie," I said, but my voice sounded wrong in my throat. Brittle.

"I mean it," she said.

And that was the worst part. She meant it. She was willing to let me go, even now — maybe especially now — if it meant giving me freedom. But she didn't understand. She already was my freedom. I moved toward her, my steps slow and controlled — not because I didn't want to run to her, but because I was one sharp word away from shattering.

"Don't say that," I told her. "Don't ever think I'd want to undo us."

Her eyes didn't let me look away.

"You didn't tell me what Rhodes meant," she said. "You kept it from me."

"I know," I said. "Because I was afraid."

The moment the words left my mouth, something in me cracked open. I hadn't said that in over a thousand years — not out loud. Not to anyone. Fear was beneath me. A mortal indulgence. Or so I had convinced myself. I confessed my fears to her. My vulnerability, the only thing that could be used to destroy me.

She waited. Silent. Patient. She stepped closer, then — just a hand's breadth away. She reached up and touched my cheek, and I felt my undead heart clench in my chest like a fist.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now," I said, "I'd do it again. But this time I would tell you. I would ask. I would kneel…"

Her breath hitched. I saw tears in her eyes, and I hated myself a little more for not telling her sooner.

But she didn't pull away.

She stepped into my arms instead — that warm, living body that had undone me from the first moment we met. I wrapped myself around her like I was trying to keep her inside my chest. Her heartbeat echoed against my ribs, and for a moment I could almost believe I had one too.

When she finally pulled back, she looked at me and said, "Then we fight together. No more secrets."

I nodded.

"Together," I said. "Until the end."

And I meant it — with every thread of my being.

Because I would walk into the sun for this woman. And I would burn the world down if it meant keeping her safe.

I love her. I haven't told her that, yet.

She was still in my arms, warm and soft and utterly real, but my mind had already begun moving like a war engine.

Niall's words echoed in the back of my skull like bells in a crypt. This house is not safe enough.

He was right. Too many knew where she lived. Too many had watched her. Her scent—now potent, laced with magic and the unmistakable imprint of me—was thick in the air here. This house had become a beacon. A weakness. A target.

And I could no longer allow that. She pulled back slightly, brow furrowing as she read my face. "You're planning something."

"I have to," I said. "This house is compromised. You need a new home. One they can't touch."

"I'm not leaving Bon Temps, Eric," she said, gentle but firm.

"I know." I cupped her cheek. "You don't have to. I have several properties nearby—"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"—but one of them is secluded. Old wards. Fae-adjacent land. We can strengthen it further.

And most importantly, I can put it under your name."

She blinked. "What does that matter?"

"In vampire law?" I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Everything."

She stilled.

"If the property belongs to you, no vampire can enter without your invitation. Not even royalty. Not Victor. Not Felipe. Not me. Unless you want it."

Her lips parted. "You mean… it would be mine?"

I nodded. "Legally. Magically. In every way that matters. You'd be the sole owner of the property and the wards. That's why it has to be your name. Not mine."

It was more than symbolic. It was strategic. And it would send a message — to Felipe, to Victor, to any vampire with ideas about claiming her.

She is not a kept pet. She is not a possession. She is herself. And she is mine by choice.

"I don't need a mansion," she said softly.

"It's not a mansion." I allowed a small smile. "It's… defensible."

She laughed, and that sound soothed the raw edges of my nerves. "God, you really are Viking sometimes."

"I am always Viking," I said dryly. "But now I am also your strategist."

She sobered. "Will this make them angrier?"

"Yes," I said. "But they're already furious. This simply gives us more ground to hold."

I stepped back and reached into my phone. "Pam will handle the paperwork. It will be done before sunrise. You need to stay here one more night, start packing and tomorrow, you'll move."

She hesitated. "What about Amelia?"

"We'll bring her if you want. She can help reinforce the new protections. Niall will likely return soon. He'll want to see the land himself."

"And you?" she asked.

I met her eyes. "I will never be far." And I meant it. Not after this. Not after the bond had become everything.

"No, I mean… you will not live with me?" She asked me with a tinge of sadness.

"Is that what you want, lover?" I hold her gaze.

"I mean, yes, we're pretty much married because of the vampire law, I have to live with my husband, right?" She said with great determination in her eyes "Although, I'm still gonna need a ring and a real human wedding, you know…" says as she raises her left hand.

"Are you proposing to me, lover?" Raising an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying, I'm a good Christian woman, I will not live in sin" She grinned. "But you can take your time".

Oh, I didn't need it that time. That ring has been waiting for her, ever since I recovered my memories, in one of my desk drawers at Fangtasia.

But first, I must keep her safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: The North Sea

SPOV

I hadn't even finished my coffee when Amelia started boxing up the kitchen.

"Don't touch that drawer," I warned. "That's where the good takeout menus live."

She rolled her eyes, but her hands stilled. "Sook, you're moving into a literal fortress with a closet the size of my bedroom and magic shields I can only dream of. You can let go of ancient menus"

I sighed. Everything still felt unreal. The house Eric showed me the night before looked like something out of Southern Living — tucked behind a tree-lined road, far from curious eyes. It was quiet, old, and soaked in a kind of hush that felt sacred.

"This isn't just about protection," he'd said. "It's about freedom. Yours."

I didn't know how to tell him I hadn't felt truly free in years. But standing in that sunlit kitchen now, packing up my old life with Amelia humming show tunes, I felt something close to it. Not safety, exactly. But movement. Forward.

"Thanks for doing this with me by the way, I know it could be hard…" I said to Amelia, taking her hand.

"Girl, I'm thrilled! I wouldn't stay here alone for anything" She smiled back at me from ear to ear.

As we start moving the stuff into boxes into the truck that Eric had sent, Joe hands me another note with a key:

Dearest One,

This new car has a GPS system and panic button. Please consider leaving your old one and welcoming the new.

-E.

I frowned. It was definitely not my intention to change my life overnight and become a kept wife. It's just not my style. But I guess, under the circumstances, I'll have to reluctantly agree. Then I'll deal with the Viking.

On the drive out of Bon Temps, I took a detour. Merlotte sat in its usual quiet stillness, but stepping inside made my throat ache. It smelled like old beer and fryer grease — and home. Sam was behind the bar, wiping down glasses. He looked up, his face lighting briefly with concern.

"Hey," he said. "Didn't expect you today."

"I'm just passing through," I said softly. "Wanted to talk to you before I go."

"Go?" His brows furrowed.

"Can we talk in your office?" I asked him, as I took a quick look around me.

"Of course, come with me" Sam took my hand and led me to his office.

"I'm moving — just outside town. Somewhere safer." I hesitated. "It's not forever, I hope. But for now, things are… complicated. There's danger."

His mouth set into a line. "Sookie, if you're in trouble—"

"I'm okay," I said quickly. "Eric's handling security and I swear this time is not because of him or vampire BS. But I wanted you to hear it from me. And I want to come back when I can. Maybe help out, if you'll have me."

His expression softened. "Is this your notice?"

"I'm afraid so, Sam…" I couldn't control the tears, Merlotte's had become a big part of my life. It was hard to say goodbye to her, even if it was momentarily. Who knows, maybe forever.

"Sook… you'll always have a place here. Just say the word."

"I know," I said. "And it means everything to me. I'm really grateful to you Sam."

He nodded. "Not a problem, chere. Be safe, alright?"

"I'll try."

As I left Merlotte's, the warm glow of the sign flickered behind me like a closing chapter. The gravel crunched beneath my heels, and the cicadas buzzed a lazy chorus in the trees. I paused for a minute and leaned against the door of my car –Amelia inside playing her little game of pretending she doesn't exist, God bless her– letting the stillness settle into my bones.

I put my hands on my bent knees and let out a cry, which I haven't felt for a long time. A cry so loud, that Amelia paused her game and came out to hold me. This place… it had been my anchor for so long. My routine. My refuge. Now, I was leaving it behind — not forever, I hoped, but enough that it hurt.

"Sookie, breathe, please, please, breathe," Amelia said to me worriedly, rubbing my back, while I turned red.

A deep breath filled my lungs, and with it came I realized what I was feeling, something I didn't want to name. Grief. The same grief that I have felt for my parents, my Gran. The same grief I felt when Bill broke my heart. The same grief I felt when Eric regained his memory, forgetting our days together, and left for a month. But this time, it was grief for the version of my life I'd once hoped to have. A house of my own. A normal job. A simple life. A husband with all his time to cherish me. Our children running in the front yard. Maybe a dog and a cat– poor Tina, that was another big grief of my life. And now? I was driving toward a house I didn't pick, paid for by a vampire who might outlive some galaxies. I had fae blood thrumming under my skin, and magic I didn't understand blooming inside me like a second heart. I was being trained like a soldier and hunted like a prize.

All because of him. All because I said yes. Maybe… maybe if I hadn't gotten involved with Eric or even Bill in the first place, none of this would've happened. Maybe I could've kept my life small. Manageable. Safe. But the second I thought it, I shook my head. No, Sookie. Don't do that. Don't lie to yourself.

Because the truth was, the world had never been safe. Not really. Not for someone like me. The danger didn't come from loving Eric — it came from what I'd always been. And loving him didn't ruin my life. It gave it shape. It gave me a reason to stop hiding. I straightened up, dried my tears, hugged Amelia –who by now was also crying next to me and told her: "You are the best friend I could have right now." and slid behind the wheel. The road ahead was long and winding. And I didn't know what waited for me at the end.

The new house welcomed me like it already knew my name. Amelia whistled as we stepped through the warded gate. "Okay, this place gives off serious Moon Goddess Retreat vibes. You sure he didn't build it just for you?"

I shook my head. "He said it's one of his older properties. Bought in the '80s."

"Yeah, well. It's got soulmate energy written all over it."

The interior was warm and surprisingly cozy. Wood beams, tall windows, stone fireplace.

There was a kitchen with all the essentials, and an office lined with shelves already half-filled with old books — many of them in languages I couldn't read.

Eric had left me a note on the counter:

Lover,

The house is yours. All of it. You don't need my permission to be here. You never have. I'll return by nightfall.

Until then, you are safe.

Yours,

E.

My hands trembled slightly as I read it. Was I? Safe?

That evening, just before dusk, the air outside shimmered like a heat mirage. A tall figure appeared at the end of the path, barefoot, his white robe trailing like mist. Not Niall. A woman. Her hair was silver-lavender and flowed down her back in waves. Her eyes shimmered like storm clouds. She carried no bag, no wand, no weapons. Just a gaze that could cut glass.

"You must be Sookie," she said, in a voice that sounded like a lullaby.

I nodded, my throat dry. "And you are?"

"Your guide. Niall sent me. My name is Rhosyn."

She stepped forward and I felt it — the unmistakable ripple of power. Older than Amelia. Different from Niall. Colder. We moved to the backyard. Rhosyn waved her hand once and a circle of protection shimmered into view. She gestured for me to sit.

"Your magic is volatile," she said, circling me slowly. "It's like an untrained violin. Capable of beautiful sound. Or painful noise. Let's start with shielding."

She instructed me to breathe. To draw the energy from the earth, not the air. To envision my skin as both a barrier and a conduit. Within minutes, my palms were glowing faintly.

"You shielded by instinct," she said. "Now do it by will."

I concentrated. A gold light flared briefly around me.

Rhosyn raised a brow. "Again."

I snorted, exhausted.

— EPOV —

Pam was already waiting in the basement of Fangtasia when I arrived, her heels echoing against concrete like punctuation marks. Her hair was sleek and severe tonight, her suit military crisp. When she looked up at me, her expression wasn't amusement—it was calculation.

"You're late," she said.

"I was delayed," I answered. "Training began."

"With the Fae guide?"

I nodded. "She's more disciplined than I expected. Old. Quiet. But sharp."

"She'll need to be." Pam rose from her seat, eyes narrowing. "Because you've just become the most dangerous vampire in Louisiana."

I raised a brow. "I'm flattered."

She didn't smile. "Don't be. They're calling her your queen now, you know."

My jaw tightened.

"Not to your face, of course," Pam continued. "But in whispers. In backrooms. Regis has already spoken to two sheriffs in Mississippi. 'The bonded fae telepath.' 'Northman's living weapon.'"

"She's not a weapon," I growled.

"No," Pam agreed. "She's worse. She's unpredictable. And yours."

There was a pause as her words settled in the cold air.

"I didn't plan this," I said.

"But you did choose it," she snapped. "Don't lie to me, Eric. You wanted her tethered. And now she is. But that comes with consequences. They're going to come for her."

"I know," I said softly.

Pam studied me. "You're not thinking like a Sheriff anymore."

I didn't answer.

"You're… softer," she said finally. "Not weak. But cracked open. Vulnerable in places you used to keep fortified."

I looked at her sharply.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," she added quickly. "Just… noticeable. You used to play politics like chess. Now? You're playing like someone who's already lost too much."

I exhaled through my nose. "She's not something I'm willing to lose."

Pam was silent a moment longer, then said, "Then we need to get smarter. We need allies. The only possible scenario where Sookie is not harmed by anyone and you two can live happily ever after is for you to take the throne. If you don't want to do that, find someone who does – and fast, or you're have to fucking leave town right now."

I nodded slowly. "I've already made inquiries. Texas. Possibly the Carolinas. Felipe has more enemies than friends."

"And what about you?" she asked. "What's she doing to you?"

I blinked.

"Your temper's thinner. Your senses are sharper, but… you're feeling more. Emotionally. That's not just love, Eric. That's the bond."

"I know," I said. "It's bleeding into me. I used to silence pain. Bury it under blood and time. But now... I feel her joy like a sunrise. And her fear…like ash in my mouth. Fuck, I even felt her casting today. Not just in the bond. In my bones. Like light pushing through my skin from the inside. I am not repelling it, I am not rejecting it, I am grateful to experience what it is like to be alive again, after so many centuries of darkness. It's just... it's kind of crushing."

I know this isn't just about love anymore. This is a fucking transformation. And I had spent a thousand years making sure to never transform again.

"I didn't think I would live long enough by your side to see this... Eric, it's not my great skill to be sentimental and never will be, but honestly, I don't think it's a bad thing. This. I don't remember seeing you as happy as you were when you spent a few days with her fairy pussy and then so lost, when you couldn't remember. I'm on your side, master." Pam said with a bow.

I felt a tug in my chest, as if I had been embedded with a fishhook and was being pulled. "I will go back to Sookie, apparently, Rhosyn is pushing her too hard... Pam, I will make that house my permanent residence from now on, verify that the security is on and that the guards both day and night pass a new loyalty check. Do what you have to do. Ask Bobby to move all my belongings from the other houses to the new one. Arrange for the house help to be aware as well, I want Sookie focused only on her, nothing else." Pam nodded and I left.

—SPOV—

Rhosyn's voice was steady. "Shield again."

I tried. I really did. I pulled the energy from the earth like she said. Felt the warmth climb my spine. Focused. Pictured a bubble.

But something shifted. A thought. A flicker of fear — of Eric, of Pam's words, of Victor's threat. My heart thudded once, hard, and that warmth turned hot. Too hot. Suddenly, light exploded from my chest — not gold like before, but a fierce, blinding white.

Rhosyn hissed. I heard the crunch of grass beneath her boots as she staggered back.

The circle around us flared. Burned. The air cracked like lightning, and I couldn't breathe. I felt everything. The squirrels in the trees. The blood in Rhosyn's veins. A vibration under the ground that might've been water or stone or bone. The world was too loud. My body buzzed like a radio stuck between stations.

"Stop," Rhosyn said sharply. "Sookie, stop—"

"I can't—"

The wind howled through the clearing, spiraling around me. My hair lifted like I was underwater. My fingertips glowed like embers. My pulse sang a song I didn't understand, something older than language, older than me—

"Sookie!"

Eric's voice.

I didn't see him arrive. Just felt his presence slam into the circle like an anchor. His hands gripped my arms — not tight, but grounding. I gasped once. And the magic stopped. The wind died. The circle dimmed.

I collapsed into his chest, shaking.

Rhosyn's voice was brittle with restraint. "That," she said slowly, "should not have been possible. Not yet."

I looked up at her, my hands still crackling faintly. "What the hell was that?"

She studied me for a moment — and for the first time since we met, she looked unsure.

"That," she said, "was old magic. And it's not fae"

Eric pulled me tighter. I closed my eyes.

The silence after the surge was louder than the magic itself. Eric hadn't moved. His arms wrapped around me like iron and velvet, keeping me grounded— like if he let go, I might float away into the sky or explode into dust.

Rhosyn circled me again, slower this time. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips tight. I felt like I'd just run a marathon through a thunderstorm. My fingertips still tingled. My bones ached. Like the power had cracked them open from the inside out and then decided to leave them hollow.

"What happened?" I asked. "That wasn't what we practiced."

"No," Rhosyn said coolly, "it was not."

She knelt, brushed her hand against the scorched grass. The circle was blackened. One of the warding stones had shattered — and not just cracked. Vaporized.

"I've trained young fae. Half-fae. Even elemental witches. But I've never seen something like this. Less in a person 1/8 Fae and 7/8 human."

Eric helped me to my feet. "Explain."

Rhosyn looked between us, eyes hard. "Your bond to her is affecting more than her emotions, Vampire. Your blood is waking things that shouldn't exist anymore. And now I believe this power… this magic—" she gestured to the burned circle "—isn't purely fae at all."

"Then what is it?" I asked, my voice thinner than I wanted.

She hesitated. "Primal magic. Tied to blood, yes — but also to soul. Intention. Legacy."

Eric's arm tightened around my waist. "She almost lost control!"

"She did lose control," Rhosyn said sharply. "And she will again, unless she learns to anchor it. You're the only anchor she has."

I pulled away, just a little. "That's not fair. I don't want to be some walking magical bomb, only safe if I'm near Eric like some supernatural leash."

"No one said that," Eric said softly.

"No, but that's what it feels like!" My voice echoed off the trees.

Rhosyn stood, regal and distant again. "Then we must build your own center. One not rooted in anyone else."

I looked at my hands. "I don't even know what is me anymore."

Rhosyn's voice turned gentle for the first time. "Then that's where we'll start."

Later that night — EPOV

Sookie was in the shower, and I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands. They feel… warmer? I'd felt it through the bond — the flare of magic before it exploded. Like a heartbeat echoing from her soul into mine.

And for a moment, I couldn't tell if it was power I recognized… or fear. Pam's words rattled in my head: You're already changing, Eric. I could feel it — not just in the bond, but in myself. When I touched her, the world seemed brighter. More real. My instincts, honed over centuries, were becoming erratic. I wanted to shield her with a desperation that scared me.

She was no longer the woman I once kept at arm's length. And I — I was no longer the vampire who believed himself above attachment.

Sookie stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed. She looked at me, caressed my forehead, and gave me a kiss.

—SPOV—

The fire had gone out, but I didn't want to move. Eric and I had curled up together on the oversized couch in the sunroom — him in one of his soft black sweaters, me wrapped in one of the thick woven throws Amelia insisted for me to keep. The world outside was quiet, cloaked in fog, Amelia had retreated herself to her bedroom upstairs, and the wards hummed faintly at the property's edge. I could feel them now, like distant bees — not annoying, just there.

Eric didn't breathe unless he had to. Didn't move unless something compelled him. But right now, he was as still as stone. One arm draped over my waist, fingers curled near my hip. His other hand rested loosely in mine.

And then I felt it. Warmth. I froze, in shock. Eric's hand wasn't cold. It wasn't blazing hot or anything. But there was a glow under his skin. A subtle, golden warmth. Like the last heat from an ember, waiting to be fanned.

I turned my head slowly and looked at him. He was awake — I hadn't even realized — and watching me, eyes half-lidded and faintly amused.

"You're… warm," I whispered.

He didn't deny it. Just said, "Yes."

"For how long?"

"A couple of days. I didn't want to mention it until I was sure it wasn't… imagined."

I brought his hand to my chest, pressing it over my heart.

"It's not imagined," I said. "This is real."

His gaze softened. "It's your magic. I feel it in me. Especially when I'm close to you. It pulls something… alive."

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"No." He pressed his forehead to mine. "It feels like I'm remembering something I never knew I forgot."

I felt my eyes sting. "Eric…"

He smiled faintly. "Don't cry, lover. It's not a curse. It's… a gift. One I never expected."

I brushed my thumb over his cheek, and he leaned into the touch — like he was savoring the heat of me, the life of me.

"You're changing too," I said. "Not just me."

"We're changing together," he said. "That's the part they'll never understand."

Outside, the wards shimmered once, catching the moonlight like a distant promise. Inside, his skin stayed warm in my hand. And for the first time, I realized… Maybe this bond wasn't just a tether. Maybe it was a bridge.

Eric's mouth touched mine like he'd been waiting far too long. It wasn't hurried. Not at first. Just warm, reverent. Like he was tasting something forbidden and sacred all at once. And I kissed him back like I had nothing left to fear — because at that moment, I didn't. The only thing I could feel was him. His hands. His breath. The heat pulsing between us like a drum waking in my chest.

His body pressed me down into the couch, slowly, like he needed the gravity of my skin. The throw blanket slipped off my shoulders, and his lips trailed down the slope of my throat, his fangs brushing but never breaking.

"You're glowing," he murmured, voice husky and awed. "Literally."

I looked at him — at the shimmer of gold catching in his hair, the soft light crackling off my skin like fireflies under glass.

"This is what we are now," I said, breathless.

His eyes burned into mine. "No, lover. This is what you are. I'm just lucky enough to hold it."

But he wasn't just holding it. I could feel his warmth now, deep in his chest, pulsing low in his belly. And when his hands moved across my skin, it wasn't like cold silk anymore. It was a soft heat.

He swept me into his arms, carried me to the rug before the fireplace, and laid me down like something priceless. And then he stopped. Just looked. I felt seen in a way that burned and healed at the same time.

He lowered himself again, this time without hesitation. His mouth found mine — and this kiss wasn't soft. It was need. Hunger. All the restraint he'd held since Rhodes, since the other night, since the bond deepened, gone in an instant.

"I need you, now" He growled, as he grabbed my legs and pulled them apart, one on either side of his hips.

He tore through all the layers of clothing until he accessed what he wanted. He took my nipples between his fingers, began to move them, admire them, caress them with his tongue, pressing them, biting them, claiming them as his own.

"This is what you do to me, lover" He sighed, sinking his face into my hair, breathing me in, as he kept one of his hands squeezing my breasts and his forearm holding his body erect above me, just enough to keep from crushing me. "I'm afraid of losing control."

I could barely breathe, the sensations beginning to build up in me. "No, Eric..." I managed to articulate. "Just let go." Almost in a plea.

I felt the call inside him, that hidden, caged animal, wanting to come out and claim his territory, mark his authority, his hierarchy, his rights over me.

My chest was burning. "Eric, please"

"Ah, SOOKIE..." He shouted furiously, as he began to kiss me for everything he hadn't kissed me for maybe how long. His hand moved from my breasts to my stomach, continuing lower, until he positioned himself between my thighs, already moist, from the urge of joining us into one body. His fingers –so long and now warm fingers– began to caress my folds as if searching for a way to break me from the inside. One finger, then two, inside me. Ah, it felt so so so good.

Eric continued kissing and squeezing every part of my body, running down my chest until he reached where his fingers were already, to increase my ecstasy and take me to the limit, right there on the precipice, where you feel that you will fall, that you no longer have anything to hold on to and only the pause, stops you.

He looks at me, with eyes full of fury, and love, even asking me for permission to have something that is his. I don't want him to ask for my permission, I want him to make me his woman here and now, in every way possible.

"Eric..." Taking his hair in my hands.

Eric lifts his gaze, straightening to position himself in that place where I so long to feel him every night of my life.

"Look at me, lover, I want you to look at me as I make you mine"

"Eric..." I can't manage to articulate any more words, what the fuck is wrong with me. I can't breathe. The air is burning around me. What the fuck is happening.

"You're mine, no one else will have you, look at me, SOOKIE," holding one of my knees.

"Yes, Eric...I'm yours...take me, do what you want with me..." I surrender as I feel him enter me. So many times I have felt him, but not like this, now everything is burning, everything is burning me, I don't know if I scream in pleasure or pain or fury because I want to consume everything of him.

My walls tighten, squeeze him tighter than they should. He screams and lets out a growl that echoes throughout my body and rattles the windows. Pleasure, pain or fury? Wait, what? The windows vibrated?

I don't have time to think, because my own hands claim him closer to me, I dig my nails into his back, into his shoulder blades, scratch and scratch as if someone wanted to take him from me and push him towards me. Eric growls as he pushes inside me and each thrust increases more and more the burning, the heat. The fireplace is out. What the hell.

"Sookie, so perfect, Sookie... Sookie, lover, so..." He doesn't manage to be coherent. It's not the time to be.

It comes in and out of me with more speed, driving me back to the precipice. And suddenly, a vision. What a beautiful sight. The North Sea. It's all green, everything smells of life. The purest air I've ever breathed in. I feel all the sounds, of the water, of the insects in the grass, of the dewdrops still on the flowers, the bees searching for their source of life... inexhaustible source of life.

Eric increases his rhythm, is that even possible... now he has both hands on my hips and presses deeper and deeper, really... breaking from the inside. But nothing breaks. I continue to see the Sea, from that green peak that ends in the exquisite, healing salt, where I must go. I must jump. It is calling me.

"Sookie, by the gods...say it, please, lover…" Eric can't take any more, but he wants my jump first, so he grabs one of my breasts and digs his fangs that had already been out for a while, tasting me. I growl as he drinks deeply and greedily, from one of his favorite areas.

The heart vein. The vein that connects us even more. I can't resist the pleasure. The sea is calling me, now with a strong light, reassuring me that this is not the end, if not... something beyond. That the fall is only the beginning.

"I'm yours Eric, entirely and completely yours" I reassure him. And I bite. On his shoulder. My teeth like never before, they enter easily, with a natural edge they open his hardened, but soft skin. And I drink that chocolate that only in him I can find. That source of life, like the bee that consumes nectar to produce honey.

"Sookie..." He frowns struggling with his climax.

"Eric...let go". And I jump. Because it's just too hot and the North Sea offers me relief. Nothing that is so beautiful can be bad. I let go of the precipice, flooding my walls that still squeezed Eric, who in turn filled my insides with his seed so pure, from a time where men were so different from what they are now. A seed that holds secrets of yesteryear. The magic burst between us like starlight. We fell together, shivering from the raw truth of it all.

"I love you, Sookie" He takes my face in his hands. "I love you, as I never loved anyone and as I will never love again. I have been reborn in you and I will die in you too."

I was at a loss for words. I was swimming in the North Sea, inhaling those little salty drops, that incredible scent, of freedom. That scent of Eric. That scent of more than a thousand years that has been kept frozen in time, inside him. In him are all my answers. In him are all the solutions to our problems. I know it. I love him too, I'll say it. When I finally manage to speak.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: The First Ripple

SPOV

I woke slowly, warm and weightless, as if floating on a tide I couldn't see. The silence around me was perfect — thick and velvet-soft. Not the kind of silence I'd ever known growing up near the woods of Bon Temps. This was deeper.

Our new bedroom was underground. Eric insisted — not just for security, but for peace. He'd outfitted it himself, choosing everything from the soundproofing to the light-tight layers that blanketed the reinforced concrete walls. Even the air was filtered through silent vents, carrying a faint trace of cedar and clove. It felt like breathing safety.

The bed we shared was impossibly large, and right now, Eric was still, motionless in a way that reminded me of tombs in ancient stories. One arm draped across my hip, his face turned slightly toward mine, his long body curled protectively around me. He always ended up like this, even if we fell asleep apart. Like gravity pulled him in my direction.

Last night still played behind my eyelids. The way he touched me, like I was the sun after centuries of winter. The way my body responded, wild and uncontained. The way the house itself seemed to pulse with the magic we made. It had been more than sex. It had been elemental — like we were made of heat and light, and all we could do was burn together. But after, when we lay tangled and breathless on the rug, I'd felt something else too: a whisper beneath my skin. Like the bond deepening.

His skin had been softly warm. Not lukewarm. Not momentary. It terrified and thrilled me all at once. I shifted gently, not wanting to disturb him. The room's only light came from a small crystal orb in the corner. It shimmered blue-gold over the stone walls, over the shelves built into the rock, over the faint runes Eric had etched into the floor for protection. Old runes. Viking runes.

There were no windows. No phones. No outside world. Just the two of us. And even if the world outside spun toward chaos — for now, I could be here. With him. Safe.

Until nightfall came and everything began again. But in this breath, in this stillness, I allowed myself one more moment. I reached over and traced the curve of his collarbone. He didn't stir, but I felt the bond flutter — like a heartbeat inside my own.

And I whispered, "We're not lost, Eric. We're only beginning. And I love you too".

I went through my closet, I don't remember sorting through all my clothes, but everything was perfectly stored and in its place, even my accessories, jewelry, and lingerie. I quickly shower and change into a tracksuit. I know I'm in for a long day of training.

By the time I made it upstairs, the house smelled like coffee and cinnamon. For a split second, it almost felt like a normal morning. Amelia was perched on one of the kitchen stools, barefoot and already deep into animated conversation with a woman I hadn't met before — tall, willowy, with dark braids twisted into a bun and a calm, practiced air that reminded me of someone who'd seen a hundred kitchens and never once dropped a dish.

"Oh! Sleeping Beauty awakens," Amelia teased, tossing me a grin over her coffee mug.

"Your Viking let you rest in peace for once?"

I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush. "Good morning."

The housekeeper turned to me with a kind smile, wiping her hands on a linen towel. "Good morning, Mrs. Northman." That sounded... interesting? "I'm Colette. Mr. Northman brought me in last week to see the house. Meals, laundry, anything you need. I also maintain the wards during the day," she added, as if that was as casual as saying she handled the recycling.

I blinked. "You do magic?"

"A bit," she said with a wink. "Household protection and herbal wards. Nothing flashy. I'm part witch — third generation."

"Colette's awesome," Amelia chimed in. "And she makes these lemon scones that are basically sex in pastry form. I already asked if she's single, and she said no, but I'm wearing her down."

Colette just gave Amelia a long-suffering smile and placed a basket of warm scones on the kitchen island.

"You didn't have to do all this," I said, feeling slightly awkward as I pulled my robe tighter.

"Oh, I did," Colette said. "This house has been asleep for a long time. It needed waking up. And so do you."

That stopped me. She wasn't wrong. I felt… slow this morning. Stretched thin but alive in places I didn't know could feel anything. The kind of tiredness that didn't come from lack of sleep, but from too much becoming.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and slid onto the stool next to Amelia. She looked at me sideways, then nudged my elbow.

"So?" she whispered. "Is he still supernaturally good in bed or just unfairly hot?"

I choked on my coffee.

Colette smirked without looking up from arranging a bowl of fruit. "I'll give you ladies a moment."

Once she left the room, Amelia leaned in. "You're glowing. I mean, literally glowing. You're happy. And also? You're humming with power. Like, audibly. I can hear it. I'm sure Collete can hear it as well. It's an interesting melody."

I closed my eyes. "Things are changing fast. I don't know if I'm ready for all of it."

Amelia reached out and covered my hand with hers. "You don't have to be ready. You just have to be. We'll figure it out. And if not, we'll wing it and drink wine and hex Victor into a toad."

I smiled. "Deal."

Outside the tall kitchen windows, the wards shimmered faintly in the light — a soft, gold ripple in the air, like the house was breathing with me. This wasn't the life I thought I'd have. But it was the one I had now. And I was beginning to think — maybe I wasn't just surviving it. Maybe I was meant for it.

The air was heavy with green — the scent of summer clinging to every blade of grass, every leaf stirring in the slow wind. I stepped barefoot into the circle, heart already beating faster than I wanted it to.

Rhosyn was waiting as always, still as a statue, the light catching in her hair like rain off moonstone. She didn't greet me.

"Today," she said, "you'll learn to see beneath. Not with your eyes. With your blood."

That didn't sound ominous at all.

She handed me a stone — smoky quartz, jagged at the edges, humming faintly in my hand. I felt it right away, like it was breathing. Or maybe I was holding a heartbeat.

"Place it at your center," she instructed. "Over your solar plexus. Then sit."

I obeyed, tucking myself into the grass, placing the stone gently below my ribs. My skin prickled with its coolness.

"Close your eyes. Breathe through the ground. Not the air. Earth holds memory. Water holds echo. But the ground?" She crouched beside me. "It remembers."

I let my breath sink lower. Let my thoughts empty. Felt the pulse of grass under my legs, the thrum of insects around the edges of the circle. Then something deeper. A hum. A pressure. The stone warmed. Then burned. Something snapped.

The world tilted — shifted — and I fell. Not physically. But my mind — my sight — dropped into something vast and cold and not mine.

I was somewhere else.

A cavern, dim and wet, lit by flickering torches. The smell of brine and blood was thick. A girl — no, a woman — was running. She stumbled against stone walls, hair plastered to her face with sweat and dirt.

She looked up.

Rhosyn.

But younger. Wounded. Her silver hair dyed dark, streaked with rust-red. She held a child. No — a bundle. Something wrapped in cloth, pulsing faintly. A voice rang out behind her, low and cruel. "You can't hide from what you are."

The air cracked with power. Rhosyn screamed. I screamed too.

"ENOUGH!"

I slammed back into my body like someone had punched me in the chest. I gasped and flailed, landing hard on my side in the scorched circle. The quartz rolled away, smoking faintly. Rhosyn towered over me, eyes glowing. Her glamour flickered — not failing, just thinning — and for a breath, I saw the creature beneath. Old. Fae. And furious.

"You touched my memory," she hissed. "How?"

"I didn't try to—" My voice shook. "I didn't know—"

"Intent is irrelevant. You saw what you weren't meant to."

Her breathing was shallow, quick. Her fists clenched and unclenched. She looked more shaken than angry now.

I sat up slowly, my body trembling. "Was that… real?"

Rhosyn didn't answer at first. Then, quietly: "It was a memory I buried in blood and salt. No one has seen it. Not even Niall."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. But you could have."

I hugged my knees, heart still hammering. The magic hadn't faded entirely — it tingled in my skin, hot and nervous, like it didn't know what to do next.

"You're not just sensing energy anymore," Rhosyn said tightly. "You're diving into it. Pulling memory. Soulprints. That's not fae magic alone."

"Then what is it?"

She turned her face toward the tree line. "Seer magic. Perhaps a deeper strain of empathic clairvoyance. Primal."

I blinked. "I thought… I thought telepathy was my thing."

"Telepathy is the smallest thing inside you," she snapped. "You are becoming something else. Something no one has a name for anymore."

The wind whispered around us. Even the birds seemed quieter.

"I don't want this to happen by accident again," I whispered.

"Then you must learn control. You're treading on unstable ground. If you walk too far, you may find memories that fight back." She sighed. "We'll continue later"

Rhosyn vanished between one blink and the next.

Back inside the house, I tried to steady myself with tea. I was still gripping the mug when Amelia breezed in from the garden, her sandals squeaking.

"Hey, I felt—" She stopped short, blinking. "Sook… you're glowing again."

I looked down. My hands shimmered faintly. A pearly sheen, like someone painted moonlight on my skin.

"Damn," I muttered. "Not again."

"Was that from Rhosyn?"

"Sort of. I… saw something. From her past. A memory."

Amelia's eyes widened. "You read her?"

"No. I fell into her."

She sat down beside me, speechless for once.

"Sook…" she said finally. "That's… That's the kind of thing witches train decades to do safely. If at all."

"Yeah," I whispered. "I'm starting to realize normal's not an option anymore."

EPOV (brief insert)

I felt it the moment it happened — a flare in the bond, wild and cold and not hers. Memory. Not thought. Not emotion. Memory like a spike through my spine. I knew then — she wasn't just accessing energy anymore. She was becoming something far more dangerous. And more sacred.

And it terrified me in a way I hadn't felt since I was human.

—SPOV—

The air inside the new house always smelled faintly of lavender and old wood — like secrets baked into floorboards. I'd barely made it halfway down the hall when I heard Amelia call from the study.

"Sookie!"

It wasn't a scream, but it wasn't casual either. I set down my mug on a side table and jogged toward her voice. She was crouched near the back wall of the study, one of the tall bookshelves half-pulled from the wall. Dust clouded the air like old breath, and something shimmered behind the shelf — a sliver of gold and pearl, almost too faint to see unless the light hit just right.

"What the hell?" I asked.

Amelia didn't answer. Her fingers were already working at the gap, prying loose what looked like a false panel tucked into the baseboards. A faint click, and the wood swung open like a narrow drawer. Inside was… something wrapped in faded violet silk.

Amelia glanced up at me. "It's spelled. Heavily. But it's not locked to a specific user. Whoever placed it wanted to hide it, not seal it."

I swallowed, kneeling beside her.

The silk was warm to the touch, even after who knows how many years tucked in shadow. I unwrapped it carefully, inch by inch, until the final layer fell away.

It wasn't just a book. It was a codex — thick, uneven pages bound with woven silver thread. Its cover was dark leather, but embossed with a strange symbol that looked like overlapping wings and a teardrop. Inside, the ink shimmered like water, but didn't move.

The language… was not English. Or French. Or Latin. Or Old Fae, at least as I'd seen it in Niall's records.

"What is this?" I asked quietly.

Amelia shook her head. "It's… old. I've only ever seen fragments like this in magical archives. And never intact. This is Ancient Fae." I reached out and the book pulled at me. Like a magnet, like breath.

"It recognizes you," Amelia whispered. "It was probably hidden here for you."

My chest felt tight. "Why would Eric's house have something like this?"

"I don't think it's his house, not originally," she said. "He said he bought it in the eighties, but didn't say from whom. What if this was a Fae refuge once? A crossing place. Maybe even a sanctuary."

I looked down at the book again. The letters shifted faintly as I stared. Then one word resolved itself into something I could read. Blood remembers.

A chill ran down my spine.

"I think this is meant to teach," Amelia said, breathless. "And protect. It's not a weapon. It's a key."

I closed the cover gently. My hands were shaking.

"Whatever this is," I said slowly, "we need to be careful. If this survived the collapse of the old Courts… then it might be the last piece of something everyone else wanted buried."

"Or stolen," Amelia said. "Or worse — it could make people want to steal you."

We sat there in silence for a long moment. The house felt different now. Older. Wiser. Like it had just opened one eye and was watching.

"Do we tell Eric?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "But after I read it first."

Because somewhere deep in my bones, I knew the book wasn't just here for me. It had always belonged to me.

"And how are you gonna do that, it's not understandable" Amelia said.

"Claudine told me that I'm more than able to make wishes, like… really wish for something to happen, it's how I could see the vampire in my front yard back in Bon Temps" I explained. "I will try to do the same…"

I took the book in my hands, one up, one down, and closed my eyes. I focused my energy on the treasure that this book represented and the opportunity it gave me to understand what was happening to me and the paths that now lay before me. "I wish, with all my being, this book could understand."

I recited. One more time. Louder. "I wish, with all my being, this book could understand."

And the book opened, and it was still written in an ancient language that I had no way of translating, but... I understood. As if that language was embedded somewhere in my brain and now it was revealed. I could read it and understood it perfectly.

"I can read it!" I said to Amelia, amazed. "This book," I said, breathless, "Amelia… this book is alive."

We sat cross-legged on the library floor like teenagers sneaking through a forbidden diary, the old tome spread open between us on a woven runner. The pages looked dry as dust but glimmered faintly under the light, and when my fingers brushed the margin — not the ink, just the parchment — the letters reformed themselves.

"Did you see that?" I whispered.

She nodded. "Yeah, and I've seen a lot of weird shit in my time, but this might top the list. Did it just… translate itself?"

"Sort of," I said. "I don't think it's just translation. It's like it… knows me and I know it. I read it and I can understand it as if it were in English. I don't think this book could be read by just anybody."

We skimmed through the pages together. The language was archaic, poetic even, but it made sense to me — not just in meaning, but like the words vibrated in my chest as I read them aloud.

"I think this one is talking about bloodlines," I said, pointing to a swirling tree-like diagram.

"There's this idea of 'The Veiled Line,' a Fae lineage that's supposed to carry something ancient. Not just fairy magic. Something deeper. Primal."

Amelia leaned in. "Primal magic? That's usually tied to really old stuff — elemental forces, cosmic intention. But Sook… if you're part of that bloodline, it explains why you're not behaving like a normal half-fae."

"There's more," I said, flipping to another page. "It talks about 'The Blood Remembers.' Memory that lives in the body. Magic that can reach into time, pull moments forward like threads. I think that's what happened earlier with Rhosyn. I stepped into her memory."

Amelia went quiet. "That's… that's insanely rare. And dangerous. Memory-walking is how some ancient fae kings and queens went mad. Seeing too much of the past fractures the now."

I nodded. "There's even a warning. It says not to stay long, not to speak in the memory, and not to try to change anything."

"Why?"

"It echoes. And it ripples."

Amelia's eyes widened. "Like time magic. You could alter something by mistake?"

"Not change the past, but… maybe pull it into the present. Open a door that was meant to stay closed."

We sat in silence for a while, the book glowing faintly between us like a living pulse.

"Do you think Eric could help?" Amelia asked finally. "I mean… some of this might be locked to your bond. Especially the sections about primal balance."

I nodded slowly. "Maybe. Some pages don't respond to me. They stay blank. But when I touched them while thinking about Eric… one of them flickered."

"Girl," she said, eyes gleaming. "You've got a magical boyfriend and an ancestral codex keyed to your soul bond. You're living in a fairy tale."

"More like a prophecy," I whispered. And the book hummed.

Outside, the wards shimmered like the air was holding its breath. Inside, the pages turned themselves to a chapter titled: The Tether of Light and Bone.

I wasn't sure if I was ready. But I was going to find out.

Amelia leaned in again, and I whispered: "The Tether of Light and Bone. That sounds… permanent."

I traced the heading with my fingertips, and the letters warmed under my touch, like they were waking up. Beneath the title, more text shimmered into view and I translate it to Amelia:

When spirit binds to spirit, not through spell but through soul, the tether becomes

unbreakable. It shares memory. It alters matter. It draws two into one truth.

Amelia exhaled slowly. "Oh my God, Sookie. This isn't just about fae blood or magical talent. This is about you and Eric. This is about the bond."

I nodded, my heart thudding in my chest. "I think we're not just bonded by vampire tradition.

We've triggered something older. Fae law recognizes soul bonds. This book does too. That's why I can read it now."

"Wait." Amelia held up a hand. "You said some pages responded when you thought about Eric?"

I pointed to the corners of the chapter — they were inscribed with runes I hadn't seen before. But as I whispered Eric's name, the ink shimmered, and a faint illustration emerged: two interlocking circles, glowing with opposite auras — one cool silver, one radiant gold.

"Duality," I murmured. "Night and day. Blood and light." A side note below the image bloomed as I read aloud: In rare pairings, when the soul-tether is pure, one may take into themselves the traits of the other… until their essence blurs.

Amelia sat back hard on her heels. "You're changing each other."

I swallowed. "I knew I was becoming stronger. But this… this says Eric might be, too. And not just stronger. More alive."

"Less vampire?"

"Or… more human."

We stared at each other in silence, the implications landing like thunder.

"Does he know?" she asked gently.

I shook my head. "He suspects. I can feel it. But I don't think he understands the scale of it."

At that, the book closed softly, as if to say — that's enough for now. The runes on the front cover pulsed once and settled back into stillness. I stared at the leather-bound surface, heart pounding.

There was no going back now. I had to tell Eric.

Chapter Text

A/N: Please leave a review, I want to know if you like the story, if you have suggestions, everything. I not only want to make a story that I enjoy writing, but that you enjoy reading as well. These characters that Charlaine Harris so wonderfully created, awakened something in me that I've had dormant for many years, and in the last week I've been writing like never before! Even starting original stories... And I'm very grateful for that.

While the endings of the book and the tv series left me quite bitter and sad, I try to fill that void through these parallel universes where I can imagine what it would have been like if Eric and Sookie finally found their way together again. You can expect me to create more fanfics about the two of them!

My work life outside of this world is so different, and writing is almost a balm for how difficult my job is sometimes. Another reason why I will never reveal my name and only work under pseudonyms ;)

I reiterate the disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS AND HAVE NO INTENTION OF OWNING THESE CHARACTERS, THE RIGHTS BELONG TO CHARLAINE HARRIS.

Chapter 11: No Safe Haven

Amelia had taken the credit card Eric left for "domestic setup" and vanished into town with a wicked grin and a long list of things we absolutely needed. That left the house quiet — eerily so.

The silence let the Codex's whispers ring in my ears, even with the book shut and hidden back on the shelf behind the warded cabinet. Every time I passed it, I felt it hum in my blood. And then, at exactly five o'clock, the air shifted. I felt her before I saw her — a cool breeze through the wards, a faint shimmering on the edge of my skin. Rhosyn had returned.

I stepped outside barefoot, crossing into the backyard where we'd practiced. The sun was low, painting everything gold. She stood near the circle — tall, poised, her silver-lavender hair twisted in a loose braid, eyes more focused than I'd ever seen.

"I felt you," I said, folding my arms.

"You're starting to listen properly," she replied. "That's good. You'll need it."

I nodded toward the charred grass where the circle had flared out during our last lesson.

"Things have been… happening."

"More than you know," she said. "I've just returned from Tir na nóg." The name sent a tingle down my spine. "The fae realm?"

"Yes. And I've spoken to one of the archivists — those who tend the Old Records. Your power isn't simply an echo of a bloodline, Sookie. It's part of an inheritance that was sealed generations ago. Suppressed. On purpose."

I frowned. "Suppressed by who?"

Rhosyn's gaze was sharp. "By your ancestors. Maybe Niall himself. For protection. To keep this strain of magic from awakening without control. They must have thought it too volatile to be passed freely."

I swallowed. "Well, too late for that."

"Indeed." She stepped closer. "There's more, you say?"

I nodded. "Yes. I found a book earlier. Some Codex. It recognized me. Responded to me. It's written in a very ancient language, there's no way to translate it, but I could understand it perfectly. There's a chapter — The Tether of Light and Bone — that describes a soul-bond. Eric and I… we've triggered something, haven't we?"

Rhosyn studied me for a long beat, her expression unreadable.

"Yes. What you share is no longer just a vampire's bond. It's something else. Wilder. Unique. The Codex is bound to your bloodline — but it awakens only to those whose magic is in flux. You are that flux, Sookie. And Eric's connection to you… it's shifting his nature as well."

"He's warmer," I said softly. "And I feel him closer. Not just emotionally. Physically. In my bones."

Rhosyn nodded. "It's the tether. You've begun convergence. Two natures folding toward each other. It's rare. Dangerous. But also… sacred."

I felt like the ground had dropped out from under me.

"So what does that mean for us?"

Rhosyn exhaled. "It means your magic will continue to evolve — and his might too. But more importantly, it means you are now walking a path that very few have survived."

"Because of power?"

"Because of interest," she said, her voice colder. "Your existence threatens every power structure that relies on clear borders — vampire, fae, witch. You are all and none. And worse, you are visible."

I wrapped my arms around myself. "You mean Victor. Felipe."

"They won't be the last. They want to control you, or eliminate you. And the fact that you're tethered to a vampire they already fear? That makes it worse."

"So what do we do?"

"You train. Harder. Deeper. And we prepare for a test."

My stomach dropped. "A test?"

"You need to learn to control your sight. The Codex mentions memory-walking, yes? But also… truthcraft. The ability to see into someone's soul. Their true nature."

"That sounds… intense."

Rhosyn stepped into the old circle and extended a hand. "Then let's begin."

The sun had just dipped below the trees when Rhosyn stepped back from the circle, her arms crossed. "You've done well enough with shielding and energy control. But if you want to survive what's coming, you need to learn truthcraft."

I wiped sweat from my brow. "You mean… seeing into someone's soul?"

She gave a single nod. "It's not just about reading intent. It's about witnessing. The raw, unfiltered truth of a person's essence — memory, fear, desire. You must look without judgment. Speak nothing. Interfere not."

"And if I do?"

"You fracture trust. And perhaps something worse — you break what you've seen."

The air around us seemed to tighten. The wind stilled. Magic waited.

"Ok, I'm ready," I whispered.

"You say that," Rhosyn murmured, "but it takes more than willingness." Her eyes shifted over my shoulder. "Good. He's here."

I turned just as Eric stepped onto the lawn, his tall figure framed by the last violet light of dusk. He still moved like a predator, silent and smooth, but I could feel something underneath tonight — something unsettled.

Rhosyn nodded toward him. "You will try it with him."

My heart jumped. "With Eric?"

He raised a brow. "Try what, lover?"

"I'm supposed to look into your soul," I said, voice wobbling a bit. Eric blinked, then chuckled low. "And if you find nothing?"

"You know that's not true," I whispered.

He tilted his head, then nodded once. "Very well. I trust you."

He stepped inside the circle without hesitation.

Rhosyn instructed me from the edge. "Touch him. Palm to chest. Let the bond open. Then — look."

My hand trembled as I reached for him. Eric caught my wrist and guided it to his bare chest, just over where his heart should beat. His skin was warm now — softly, impossibly warm.

"Breathe," he said. "Whatever you see, I won't hide."

I closed my eyes and reached inward — not with magic, but with knowing. With the strange antenna that had started to unfurl in me ever since the Codex awoke.

The bond flared. And then — Everything dropped away.

I was standing in snow.

A field. Trees long dead. Gray sky above. A man knelt beside a small body, weeping in silence. His blond hair clung to his face, blood streaking down one side. It was Eric — but younger. Rawer. Still human. A woman lay in his arms. I could feel her last breath lingering in the air.

His sister. She had been taken. Burned. His scream wasn't loud. But it shook the world. Then it shifted.

Another memory — a darkened castle hall, flickering torches. Eric stood tall now, dressed in fine black leathers, a sword sheathed at his hip. A vampire. Behind his calm expression, he was being ordered to kill. A traitor to his maker's line. The traitor was his friend.

He obeyed.

And again, the world changed. Dozens of moments flickered past. A thousand losses. Battles. Beds. Deals made in blood. But underneath it all — one thing remained constant: Loneliness.

Eric had stood for centuries in silence, behind the persona. Behind the arrogance. It had shielded him, yes — but also caged him. He wasn't cold. He had been frozen. And then… I saw myself. Not like in a mirror, but like a fire. I was sitting across from him on my old porch in Bon Temps. Laughing about something dumb. And Eric — not smiling — but looking at me like that moment was the first warmth he'd felt in a thousand years.

Then a whisper echoed in the vision: She burns through the frost. She is the beginning of his thaw.

The image shattered. I gasped, stumbling back into my body like being yanked from a dream. Eric caught me instantly, arms around my waist.

"Sookie?" he asked softly. "What did you see?"

I looked up into his eyes. And for the first time, I didn't just see him. I knew him.

"You've carried so much," I whispered. "And never let anyone help."

Eric didn't ask what I meant. He just pulled me into his chest, holding me tightly.

"I've spent so long trying not to feel," he said. "And now… I don't know how to stop."

I clutched him back. "Don't stop. Not with me."

Rhosyn stepped forward, voice low. "You did it. And you returned."

"I saw his pain," I said. "And I didn't look away."

She nodded. "That's the first test. The next… is to witness truth that wants to stay hidden."

I shivered. But I wasn't afraid. Not with him beside me. We stood inside the circle one more time, and Rhosyn began the chant. My magic pulsed like a second heartbeat. I touched Eric's hands — firm, grounding.

Then the world… shifted. The backyard dissolved. I saw Eric — not as he stood, but as he was. A boy, hair wild and golden, standing on a fjord cliff, shouting to the wind. A warrior, blood on his cheek, fury in his eyes, the thrill of battle singing in his chest. A vampire, kneeling before his maker, accepting the dark gift with a sense of betrayal and wonder. A sheriff, building an empire of silence and power.

And then… me. Me, in his memory. Smiling. Bleeding. Crying. Laughing. The first time we met. Our first kiss. Our first fight. Our first night together. Our bonding. He felt everything — and he chose it.

I stumbled back into myself with a gasp.

Eric's eyes burned with tears he would never shed. "You saw."

"I did." My throat was tight. "And you… you never turned away from me. Not once."

Rhosyn spoke gently. "That is the soul truth. Rare. Irrevocable."

She turned toward the trees. "Training ends for today."

I gripped Eric's hand tightly. We couldn't take our eyes from each other.

He cleared his throat. "Let's go," he said. "We have to get to Fangtasia. The game's already moving."

And under the gathering twilight, we did.

—EPOV—

Fangtasia was dim and tense, the energy in the club thicker than blood. It was Sunday, so the place was closed to the public. Pam and I took our usual route through the club — past the wall of writhing bodies and desperate blood, past the DJ's nest of lights and bass. But tonight, none of that touched me.

The booths at the back were dimly lit and glamoured with layered protections: enough privacy for royalty. Sookie went straight to the office through the back door. She knew better than to expose herself to more unnecessary vampires.

Aveline was already there.

The Emissary of Texas sat with her spine impossibly straight, legs crossed, and not a single auburn curl out of place. Her eyes were ancient — cool, precise, and dipped in velvet danger. She didn't stand. Didn't smile. Just nodded once as I approached.

"I appreciate your coming," Eric began smoothly.

"Curiosity, more than courtesy," Aveline said, voice like velvet over steel. "Victor Madden's antics have drawn attention. If he were a sheriff in Texas, he'd already be ashes."

Eric smiled thinly. "Which brings me to my offer."

Pam leaned forward, her voice sharp. "You know Victor's causing instability. He's glamoured humans to commit murders, planted evidence, manipulated territory lines. He's overstepping."

Aveline raised a brow. "And your king allows it?"

"Felipe sees Victor as his executor. But Victor is acting outside the interests of peace. He's created chaos. Fear. And worse — he's drawn supernatural attention from realms best left dormant."

Aveline's gaze sharpened. "Magic?"

Eric didn't blink. "Yes. He's chasing it. Using it. Stirring things he does not understand. And those of us who still care about structure… about rule… must respond."

Pam added, "What we need is information. Your scouts. Your quiet ears. Not to declare war — but to find Victor's softest point. His network. His endgame."

Aveline folded her hands. "And what do you offer in return?"

"Stability," Eric said. "An alliance. Mutual aid, if your court ever finds itself pressed. And influence — should the southern territories need new leadership in the years to come."

There was a charged silence.

"You're not going after Felipe." Aveline didn't ask — she stated.

Eric nodded. "Not for now. He's still king. But Victor? Victor is expendable. And his removal would be a mercy for all of us."

Pam added, "And a message. To any other vampire who mistakes recklessness for power." Aveline tilted her head. "And this… magic? You say Victor seeks it. But you don't?"

Eric's face was ice. "I say it's dangerous. And I want it removed from his hands."

She studied him for a long beat. "We'll need proof. Evidence."

Eric inclined his head. "You'll have it. Soon."

Aveline rose. "Then perhaps we will speak again — when your evidence matches your claims."

She turned, heels sharp on the floor. "Good evening, Sheriff."

As she left, Pam exhaled.

"She's interested," Eric said quietly. "Now we find the proof."

Pam glanced toward the office. "And keep Sookie far from it."

Eric's jaw tightened. "Exactly. Now Pam, why the fuck does Victor know so much about Sookie? Have you been able to find out?"

"I initiated the loyalty reviews you asked for, Master. There's someone who catches my eye: Joe." She said, squinting her eyes.

"Sookie's bodyguard? The werewolf?"

Pam nodded. "Call it feminine intuition, or whatever you want, maybe I've spent too much time breathing Sookie's scent in here, but I put one of our men to follow him after his day shifts. He was found meeting in a bar outside of Shreveport with Victor directly"

"Pff" I snorted. "I'm surprised by so little strategy from a vampire, he's clearly not in his right mind."

"So..." Pam asked, waiting for my command.

"We're going out hunting today" I said with a grin showing fangs.

"Finally, Master!" Pam exclaimed with her eyes sparkling.

—SPOV in the office—

Eric's office smelled like old leather and ironwood. I could easily recognize smells now. The air was still — too still, like it was waiting to see what I'd do. I perched on the edge of his massive desk, the room dim except for a single lamp casting soft gold light across the surface. On the desk sat a fountain pen, a folded napkin, a set of old vampire court coins, and one of Eric's silver cufflinks that always managed to glint even in the dark.

Just a few things. Just enough to try.

Rhosyn had told me not to overreach. "Start small," she'd said. "You are the river. Not the storm." But my hands were itching. My whole body was buzzing like it wanted to stretch — like my skin didn't fit quite right anymore.

I took a breath. Grounded my feet to the floor. Closed my eyes.

Pen, I thought. Not screamed, not even whispered. Just… summoned, gently. When I opened my eyes, the pen trembled. Just a quiver, like it caught a breeze no one else could feel. I smiled.

"Okay," I whispered. "Let's try again."

I focused — not on the pen, exactly, but on pulling it toward me. Not like a rope, not like a magnet — like memory. Like the object already remembered where it belonged: in my hand. The pen rolled forward an inch. Then two.

I let out a little gasp. "Well, would you look at that…"

A faint warmth curled under my ribs — not burning this time, but soft and steady, like a candle.

Next, I focused on the napkin. Light as air. This time, I pictured it lifting — like a leaf caught on a gentle updraft. And sure enough, it fluttered upward, wobbling in the air before falling gently to the ground near my foot.

I laughed — just a small, breathy sound, but real. It felt like me again. The coins came next. Heavier. I was careful. A shimmer passed over them, and one slid an inch toward me, then stopped. That was enough.

"Don't push," I muttered to myself. "Just ask."

The cufflink didn't move at all. Not yet. But the air around it shifted — like it was listening. I sat back in the chair, suddenly exhausted and warm all over, like I'd just done yard work in the sun. My hands were steady, but my pulse was fast.

Then I heard a knock — three soft raps against the door, the rhythm unmistakable. Pam. Time to tuck away the magic, play the normal girl. But as I rose, the pen on the desk gave one last little twitch into the air…

"Oh for fucks sake, Eric, would you come here please?" Exclaimed Pam.

In a second, Eric was there. "What, what happened? Are you well, lover?" His voice already worried if I was hurt or wounded.

"Nothing" I said, throwing a glance at Pam, who had seen the pencil move. "Just practicing." And then my phone rang on the cushion beside me. Amelia. I answered with a smile still on my lips. "Hey! You're not gonna believe it, I actually made—"

Her voice stopped me cold.

"Sookie… I'm so sorry. I didn't want to call. I didn't want this to be real—"

My heart seized. "What happened?" My vampires listening everything.

"I came to Bon Temps for the day," she said quickly, voice shaky and thick. "I just pulled up to your house. Sook… it's gone."

I stood, knocking the chair back. "What do you mean, gone?"

"There was a fire. A big one. The roof caved in. The whole place is blackened and still smoking. It's still hot. It's not natural, Sook. I'm telling you—this wasn't faulty wiring or a freak accident. I feel it in my gut. There's magic all over it. Dark, twisted, targeted."

My mouth had gone dry. "Did you see anyone? Any symbols?"

"No," she breathed. "But I felt something when I got close. Like… sickness in the air. Like it wanted to scare us. Scare you."

I pressed my fingers to my lips, vision narrowing. "Amelia, get out of there. Now."

"I'm already gone. I didn't even get out of the car."

"Come back here. To the house. To the new house. Go through the warded path. Take the long way. Secure the wards against dark magic and…Unsellie Court."

"I will do it. I'm so sorry," she whispered again. "I know how much that place meant to you."

I looked down at my hands, the ones still tingling faintly with magic. The ones that had buried people I loved, washed floors after grief, held memories inside those Bon Temps walls.

"It wasn't just a house," I said. "It was home. My Gran's. My anchor. And now someone lit it like a match."

"Sook—"

"I'm not grieving it now," I said, cold fire threading through my voice. "I'm getting ready. Because if this was meant to scare me? They just did the opposite."

I hung up without another word, the screen going dark in my palm. I turned—and Eric and Pam were both standing just inside the doorway to the office. Pam's arms were crossed tight over her chest, a rare flicker of unease in her posture. Eric looked like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. Neither of them said a word at first.

They'd heard everything, of course.

"My house," I said hoarsely. "The one in Bon Temps. It's gone."

Eric stepped forward instantly, his jaw tense, the fury in his aura curling like smoke. "Are you well?"

"No. Someone wanted to send a message. That place wasn't just a house—it was a symbol. It was mine. It was my Gran's. And they knew that."

Pam's lips curled downward. "Magical fire?"

"Amelia says yes. Dark magic. It wasn't meant to just destroy—it was meant to taint. She said the place felt sick."

Eric's eyes narrowed. "Felipe doesn't traffic in spells like that. And Victor barely knows which end of a spellbook to open."

I shook my head, heart still hammering. "No… I don't think this was vampire work. I think it's fae. Or something worse."

That gave them both pause.

"I felt it," I continued, pulse ringing in my ears. "Through the bond. That sickness. Not blood-magic. Not human witchcraft. This was ancient. Cold. And full of hate."

Eric's eyes gleamed. "You mentioned… the Unseelie?"

Pam hissed. "Those still exist?"

I nodded. "According to Niall, the Unseelie Court went quiet a long time ago. But they're not gone. They've just been waiting. They feed off chaos, fear, destruction. They hate light. They hate joy. They hate Niall. And I'm his blood."

Eric's whole body stilled. "You think they came for you?"

"No. Not yet," I said, voice low. "This was just a warning. A first knock on the door. They are probably already aware of everything that is happening with my magic, I doubt it is something difficult for the fairies to hide. I need to talk to Niall urgently. I need to go to his realm." I hurry to the door.

Eric stops me "No, it could be dangerous, we don't know what the situation is there, maybe they have attacked the kingdom and there is nothing you can do, Sookie."

"All the more reason Eric, if these powers came to me I must use them for good, to save my family. It's all I have left. Gran's dead. Jason and I are not talking..."

"All you have left?" In a muffled voice.

"No, baby, you know that's not what I meant, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound that way. You are my family now, but they are part of me too, I can't leave them unprotected" I took her face in my hands and gave him a tender kiss.

Pam uncrossed her arms, her voice flat and focused. "Maybe this can wait a bit. Try to summon Niall to your house, or your other fairy guard whoever she is called. We need to re-secure all your known properties, Eric. Even the ones you haven't been to in years. I'll call in the witches we've vetted before. Ward everything again, twice."

"I want Amelia protected," I added. "Double her wards, give her guards. Use the same ones that passed the loyalty tests."

Eric's eyes never left mine. "We'll handle it. We'll find who did this."

My voice shook, but only a little. "This wasn't just fire, Eric. It was a message written in ash.

And I'm not going to sit around waiting for another."

His hand brushed mine — just once — and I could feel how his magic hummed now when it touched mine. Faint, but real. A thread of heat.

"They've taken your home," he said, eyes hard. "Now we make sure they never take anything else."

Pam's phone buzzed. "I'll handle the logistics. But if this is the Unseelie…" she looked at me with a rare seriousness, "We will fucking need the prince of the Fae. And fast."

Eric nodded grimly. "And we'll need to know what, exactly, they want from Sookie."

I already had a sinking suspicion. Me. My power. My blood. Or worse… my soul. "I'm sorry our reunion is turning out this way, Eric. I had plans for us. Plans that included whole nights of passionate, primal sex…" I wink at him, as I rest my hand on his thigh tenderly. "I am really sorry." Eric looks at me for a second, as he continues to drive towards our magical home.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sookie, please, we will have many nights for eternity to do that and much more, but... first, you must stay alive" He blows me a kiss.

The rest of the drive home was silent. Not strained. Not cold. Just… heavy. Like the air between us had weight now, full of smoke and cinders and memories that refused to be buried. I watched the trees blur past the window as we left Shreveport behind. I couldn't stop picturing it — my house, blackened and broken. Amelia's trembling voice. The feel of something ancient pressing in around the edges of my magic like frost creeping up a windowpane.

They hadn't just burned my house. They'd marked me. Eric's hand rested on my knee, grounding and still. His thumb made slow circles, but his jaw was clenched the entire ride. When we pulled into the gravel driveway, I stepped out of the car like I'd aged ten years. The wards around the house shimmered faintly in greeting — soft gold lines humming along the stones, alert but calm.

Home.

Inside, Amelia had left a note on the counter: Ran to check the wards around the guesthouse. Back soon. Don't start any rituals without me — or if you do, at least leave snacks. - A

Eric read it and gave a dry huff. "She's beginning to sound like Pam."

"They have been talking… She's rubbing off on all of us," I muttered.

Then I turned to him and said what we were both thinking. "We need to call Claudine. Or Niall."

He nodded. "Preferably both."

We went into the sunroom — the safest space in the house — and I pulled the Codex from its velvet pouch, still warm to the touch. Eric lit the protective lanterns with old matches, and I opened the book slowly, reverently.

The pages fluttered themselves open to the section labeled Lineage & Summons. Eric stood behind me, arms loosely crossed but his presence taut, alert. "How does this work?"

"I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "But the magic in this house is strong. The book will respond to that. And to me." I pressed my palm to the diagram on the page — a spiral traced in silver ink — and felt a tug inside my sternum, like something deep within me recognized the call. My hand warmed.

The spiral glowed.

I spoke softly: "Claudine. Claudine, blood of my blood, guardian of my path. I call to you under moonlight and memory. Come." The spiral pulsed.

Nothing.

Eric moved closer. "Try Niall."

I hesitated, then shifted to the next line of the invocation. "Niall Brigant. Prince of the Fae. Kin of my kin. I summon you through blood, bond, and birthright. Come." The spiral flared gold—then fizzled, like a firework sputtering out.

Nothing.

We waited in silence. The air in the room thickened slightly, but no shimmering doorway appeared, no trumpet of light, no otherworldly entrance.

"They're not coming," I whispered.

"Or they can't," Eric said, eyes dark.

The air shifted again. Not a shimmer, but a tug. A low vibration against my bones, like the earth itself had taken a breath. Then…A soft glimmer bloomed in the corner of the room — not Claudine.

A small, floating sigil spun once, flickered, and dropped into my hand like a feather. I looked down. It was an emblem — woven from gold and starlight — and it pulsed gently in my palm.

Eric leaned forward. "What is it?"

"I… I think it's a message."

The emblem flared once, and then a voice — Claudine's, breathy and strained — filled the space around us.

"Sookie… I can't come. Not yet. Niall is… handling something. The Courts stir. Stay in the wards. Trust no one outside your line. The Unseelie are hunting the tether. That means you. That means the book. That means the bond. Protect it, Sookie. Protect him. And protect yourself."

The voice cut off. The emblem dissolved. The room fell silent. Eric didn't move. Neither did I. Eric might have the strategy of a solid warrior, minted by thousands of years of battle as human and vampire, the brute strength to shatter virtually any danger that comes near us, but I... I began to think that maybe I had the other ingredient in the equation, maybe I could protect us even more.

Finally, he whispered, "They're hunting the tether."

I nodded slowly, my throat tight. "They're hunting us."

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Ashes and Inheritance

EPOV

Sookie fell asleep a while later, her body could not withstand so much training, magic and emotions in a single day.

There were still 3 hours left until dawn. Pam had started the hunt alone, I would meet her half way. But I find myself unable to leave my beloved alone. Even knowing that the house is safe, I don't know how powerful the Unseelie fairies are. Whether or not they can break through the protection spells.

Sookie sleeps like an angel, who hides great ferocity and bravery. It's one of the things I love most about her, but also the thing that gets her into trouble the most.

My phone rings.

"Pam, tell me" I answer shortly.

"Master, we already captured the spy, no need for you to come, he didn't put up much resistance, shit, how lazy these dogs are, they take the fun out of the hunt... Where do you want to... put him?

"Leave him in one of the cells in Fangtasia, I'll interrogate him tomorrow" I hung up. I don't want to wake Sookie.

At least now I won't have to leave her alone. I gave Niall my word. I must protect her at all costs. I need more reinforcements. I can't believe I'm going to do this, but... he's the only person who will understand our situation. I dial a number.

"Sheriff...I was expecting your call, how can I be of service to you?"

"Hello Bill."

It wasn't long and Bill's car was parked outside the house. I ushered him into the sunroom, while I offered a TruBlood, which he kindly accepts.

"Quite a house you have, made for a fairy. I don't think it was by chance..." Bill throws me a look.

"Believe it or not, I bought it in the 80's and never felt that magic I feel now, it's like the house came alive the moment Sookie walked in, before I'd swear it was normal, not that I paid much attention to it either"

"Well, it looks nice. Tell me what I can do for you" He asks me with a sincere tone.

"Bill, Sookie is being hunted from two sides: Victor and the Unseelie"

"Unseelie? Weren't they extinct?"

"Apparently not. Until now there had been balance in the fairy realm, but... since Sookie and I reunited and sealed our bond, a different magic began to activate in her, an ancestral, primitive magic, even older than me and all my people. The unseelie see it as chaos and they love chaos, they go straight after it. Besides, they've always had a grudge against Niall, capturing his great-granddaughter is a great move" I sigh, as I look at the fire in the fireplace.

"Eric, I'll be honest with you...I don't know if the day will ever come when I feel completely comfortable with you and Sookie being together, but I can swear here and now, that I will do everything to respect your bond and protect her, even with my life." Bill says it with great reverence and promise.

"Thanks, Bill, although you don't have much choice either" I assure him. "The next steps are: we've captured the one we believe was passing Sookie's information to Victor, her bodyguard Joe, who I myself swore was loyal..." Idiot. "Pam will leave him in one of

Fangtasia's cells until tomorrow for interrogation, you know how Pam gets about these situations, it's her favorite holiday"

Bill chuckles.

"Depending on what he tells us, we'll take him to Texas... Aveline came to us today and asked us for proof that Victor was seeking to destabilize the kingdom by misusing resources of our community, pursuing magics that should not be pursued. We will bring the spy to him, to confess"

"Good move, but what will we get out of it?"

"Aveline has the job of convincing the King to support our request towards Felipe to take Victor down"

"Ambitious"

"I have every confidence that Stan's restraint as King will not look kindly on this waste of energy, resources and manipulations with other kingdoms with a good face...after all, Texas is one of the most stable kingdoms." I sigh and look away, still unsure if this is the right thing to do "The thing is...I can't leave Sookie alone, and I don't want to take her with me to Texas either"

"Ah..." Bill answers getting the message.

That day the sun rose at 6 a.m., but I didn't feel the pull to die for the day until 8.

SPOV

We had no windows in our bedroom, so I can't explain how it was that I woke up to the warmth of the mid-morning sun's rays. It was 12.47 when I woke up, I had slept more than 9 hours, no wonder, I was exhausted. I sat up slowly, sheets twisted around my legs, Eric sleeping like an angel - one of the most lethal - next to me, with one of his hands on one of mine. The charred image of my old house — still smoldering in my memory — curled against my ribs like a second heartbeat. I slipped into a robe, took a quick shower, there was no time to waste. I tried calling Claudine again. No answer. Not even a buzz. Just silence, thick and wrong.

I padded upstairs, the house blessedly still. Amelia was already in the kitchen with a mug of tea, her feet tucked under her on the stool.

"Good morning Mrs. Northman. I hope you had a good rest, may I offer you some breakfast?" Colette said very kindly. She had something very charming about her, behind that serious and inscrutable face. I asked her for a cup of coffee and took one of the scones that were on the counter.

"I've been ward-checking with Colette," Amelia said softly. "Nothing's trying to get through here. But I did a sweep. There's... traces. Something touched the edge of our protection last night. Burnt fingerprints, magically speaking." I sighed. This was getting far more complicated than I expected. I hugged my stomach.

"I tried Claudine again," I said.

She looked up sharply. "And?"

"No answer. Not even a ripple."

We shared a glance. That wasn't just worrisome — it was unprecedented.

Before I could ask more, the air in the backyard rippled. Rhosyn.

She stepped out of thin air like smoke condensing into shape. Her robes shimmered silver-blue. Her hair was tied back in a complicated braid, eyes sharper than usual.

"I felt the fire," she said. No greeting. No preamble. "It wasn't just a loss of property. It was a message. And worse, a beacon."

My stomach dropped. "My house—did you find anything?"

Rhosyn gave a small nod and pulled something from the folds of her sleeve — a glass vial filled with blackened ash and twisted metal. Sigils, melted but still visible, curled through the soot.

"I recognize this work," she said grimly. "Unseelie craft. Dark Fae. Forbidden even among their own. And… I believe someone in this realm gave them access."

"Someone… in Louisiana?"

"Yes."

That hit harder than I expected. We'd been worrying about Victor. About Felipe. Even about ancient vampire politics. But the fae… that was a war of a different kind. Rhosyn's face turned graver still. "Claudine hasn't been seen since yesterday. And Niall hasn't answered any summons. The realm trembles."

"No." I swallowed. "She wouldn't leave me without saying goodbye."

"She may not have left willingly."

I reached for the nearest chair and sat before my knees gave out. Amelia paled in the doorway.

"We need to act," Rhosyn said. "Which means your training must continue. This time, something more advanced: trace-reading. The ability to extract magical residue from objects. It will tell us who laid the sigils. But I must warn you—it can be dangerous. You'll see echoes, ghosts. Sometimes even feel what the caster felt. Do you accept?"

I nodded. "I have to."

We moved to the circle in the yard. The vial of ash placed before me like a test. Rhosyn guided me gently. "Don't look with your eyes. Look with your breath. Pull from it – not just the power, but the memory."

I took a deep breath. Focused. The ashes shimmered, then flickered gold. I touched the rim of the vial.

A hum rose in my ears. The world tilted.

Suddenly I was there—not in the fire, but just before. Standing on the threshold of my old kitchen, only it wasn't me. It was someone else. He was tall. Male. Laughing under his breath. His eyes were pale — silver-blue, glowing faintly. Fae. But not like Claudine. Not like Niall.

There was madness there. Delight in destruction.

He placed the sigil beneath the floorboards, whispered something I couldn't hear — and then, just before he disappeared, his voice echoed into my mind like a curse:

"Rowen."

The name clung to the air. The vision shattered. I gasped, falling backward. Amelia caught me, eyes wide. Rhosyn moved quickly, her hand at my shoulder.

"You saw someone."

"Rowen," I whispered. "He's Unseelie. I don't know how I know, but I do. And he's… exiled. Or rogue."

Rhosyn's face went stony. "That name hasn't been spoken in centuries. If he's returned… the realms are in far greater danger than we thought."

Are you fucking kidding me? When did I sign to start a war with Vampires and Dark Faes?

At 5:57 p.m., my phone buzzed on the dresser. Just three words.

"Come downstairs now."

No punctuation. No flourish. Just Eric — in that voice only I could hear, the one that didn't need sound at all. It slithered through the bond and struck low in my belly like thunder under my skin. I didn't hesitate. I went. The door to our underground room was slightly ajar. I stepped in… and nearly forgot how to breathe. Eric stood in the low amber light, barefoot, shirtless, a silhouette of muscle and legend. His hair was still damp from the post-rest shower, a single drop sliding from his collarbone to the waistband of his dark pants. His eyes met mine — blue turned stormy — and he didn't blink.

The bond snapped tight.

He crossed the room in two strides and lifted my chin with one hand. "Tell me later," he murmured. "I need you first."

And God, I needed him.

The air crackled before our lips even met. When they did, it was fire. No teasing, no patience — just pure, wild hunger. He kissed me like a man starved, and I answered like a woman who'd forgotten how to live without his mouth. Clothes vanished — I don't know who stripped who honestly and I will probably have to buy more clothes to replace the ones Eric has torn to shreds. My dress hit the floor in a whisper. He growled when he saw I wasn't wearing anything beneath it. I didn't plan it. I just knew what he liked.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing, and the mattress caught us both. His hands were everywhere — reverent and desperate, like he was trying to memorize what he already owned all over again. My thighs wrapped around him instinctively, and the second he entered me, the world fell away.

There was no magic this time. No visions. No spells. Just the bond, raw and electric, guiding our bodies to where we'd always belonged. Every thrust was a declaration, every gasp a vow. I could feel him inside me and around me and through me, like the bond was no longer a thread but a flood.

My name on his lips sounded like worship. His on mine like a battle cry.

And then he bit me. Without warning, without asking — but I was already there, already offering. His fangs slid into my neck, and the pain melted into pleasure so bright I cried out, not from the bite, but from the need. It was so much more than physical now — it was survival. I wanted his blood like it was the only thing that could keep me upright, the only thing that could cool the magic boiling under my skin. I sank my teeth into his shoulder — sharp, sure — and he moaned. A real one. Deep.

Guttural.

Honestly, what is happening with my teeth?! It was like suddenly they were the perfect sharp to penetrate a vampire skin smoothly. My teeth have changed for him.

His blood hit my tongue like summer lightning. Dark velvet, ancient storms, the raw taste of Viking winter and war and the man who had somehow, impossibly, chosen me. I drank like it was the only thing keeping me from splitting apart. And maybe it was.

He took more from me, too — we fed from each other until the lines blurred. My pulse never slowed, he drank and drank until he was jaded and my body simply produced all the blood he needed without affecting me. His wound also did not close immediately as it should have, it remained open until I felt I had completed my daily quota. The moment I withdrew my mouth, his skin healed.

There was no beginning, no end. Just sweat, blood, heat, and belonging. The bond didn't just hum now — it roared. When we finally collapsed, slick with need and covered in faint traces of our marks, I felt… more than human. His arms wrapped around me. I curled into him, boneless and still trembling. For a long time, we didn't speak. We didn't have to. But eventually, as his hand traced slow patterns over my thigh, I whispered into the stillness, "Claudine's gone. Rhosyn thinks it was the Unseelie. There was a breach… at the house. The fire might've been their signal. The wards were compromised. I think it's starting." Eric's body went still. Then he kissed my forehead. Slow. Silent. He slid from the bed and dressed like a man putting on his sword – which sometimes he did.

No softness now. Only steel. "I'll be at Fangtasia," he said, voice low. "You have a new day guard, you know him: Alcide".

He gave a deep kiss. "Please don't leave the house today, wait for me here". I nodded. And he was gone, leaving the scent of blood, sex, and war thick in the air.

—EPOV—

I entered Fangtasia with ice in my veins. It was Monday, so the bar was closed. Good. I don't need witnesses. Pam met me near the basement stairs, already keyed in.

"You're thinking it's him?" she asked.

"He had access. He was in Bon Temps. He's been too quiet. You saw him with Victor" Joe was in one of the cells — nervous, twitchy. I didn't waste time.

"How long have you been working for Victor, wolf?" I growled.

"I—I don't know what—"

I was on him in a flash, pinning him against the wall, squeezing his throat hard enough to scare him, but not kill him - yet. "Don't lie to me, Joseph. You're not important enough for mercy."

He cracked fast. They always did. The instructions. The payment. Not from Victor directly — but from one of his underlings, passing notes like cowards.

"We saw you with Victor, dog… what did you tell him" Pam asked with her brow furrowed as if she was controlling her urge to vomit.

"He...he, he just wanted to know how Sookie was doing, if I had noticed anything different about her, what was going on in the house...I told him I didn't have access to the house, none of them. And that the last few days Sookie hadn't left the house much during my work hours, so I hadn't noticed anything different about her... erm…" He hesitated. "What, damn it"

I yelled at him, squeezing him tighter.

"I… I did tell him that I noticed… through the windows more brightness than usual whenever she approached or passed… I, I… also felt a warm air coming from her... I'm sorry, I never meant to expose her to anything serious, I thought it was the normal control of vampire authorities regarding humans related to vampires and... I needed the extra" He mused with shame.

I threw him against the opposite wall of the cell. How I had been so stupid to trust him, to put him directly next to Sookie. I felt disgusted with myself.

Pam looked at me with a tinge of excitement. "Permission, Master? I would love to give you a gift for your new stage with your wife." She said looking at the wolf and ticking her lips.

"Not yet." I turned back to Joe, fangs dropped. "You… are going to Texas. You're going to tell them everything, except for what you noticed on Sookie. Who paid you. How long you have been feeding Victor intel. How far his reach goes."

His eyes widened. "You're letting me live?"

"For now," I said coldly. "Because you're more useful breathing. But don't mistake that for mercy, dog." I close the cell and begin to return to my office. Pam follows me silently.

"Bill is ready. He can take care of Sookie until we get back." She said.

"No, I changed my mind. I will stay with Sookie, you will go to Texas with Bill as my emissaries." Pam rolled her eyes, Bill was not her favorite vampire. "And as soon as Texas is secured, you are going to Mississippi" I stopped, looking into her big eyes, "Go to Russell

Edgington. Start the conversation. I know you will be a very interesting guest for him"

She raised a brow. "Charm him, or threaten?"

"Both, whatever you want," I said. "I trust your… gifts to do that. Tell him about the Unseelie.

About Victor starting a war with forces we cannot face as vampires. But. Don't. Talk. About. Sookie. Not a word. We don't want their attention on her." Pam smirked. "Consider it done."

As she vanished, I stood alone in the office. War was coming. Good thing I am a Viking. I was born and raised in war.

I picked up some important paperwork to take home. I had left the bar in charge of Felicia and Clancy these days to stay as long as possible with Sookie at home. I opened one of my drawers...there it was, tucked away in a corner, next to a picture of her that I had kept since our trip to Dallas. If only she knew all the things I already felt for her back then. I picked it up, looked at it for a few seconds. It was perfect.

It was bold, like her. Not fragile, not subtle — and thank the gods, neither was she. The centre stone burned like a drop of blood caught in sunlight, deep and red and unapologetic. A ruby, yes — but more than that. It reminded me of the first time I saw her truly angry, radiant with fury and fire and righteousness. She was never meant for cold diamonds alone. She needed something with heat. Around it, a ring of light — diamonds, yes, the finest I could find — as if the sun itself had agreed to crown her. They weren't meant to outshine the ruby. They existed to frame it. To protect it. The band was gold, warm and solid, the way her touch lingered long after she'd gone. Not delicate, but elegant. It wasn't just beautiful. It was hers.

To finish, I had wanted to add a small inscription inside the band: I will always come back to you.

I had bought it the same day I recovered my memories with her. I put it inside my jacket, grabbed the folders I had already put aside and set out to get home as quickly as possible.

—SPOV—

Dinner had long gone cold. Amelia and I sat cross-legged in the windowless room Eric had quietly referred to as a "containment chamber," which honestly sounded more like a vampire panic room than a reading nook. Still, it was the safest place in the house — no windows, no distractions, and, most importantly, the perfect place to study a book that glowed when touched and sometimes whispered back.

The Codex rested between us, pulsing faintly like a living thing. We had spent the last hour unlocking pages we didn't know existed, guided by intent more than order. It didn't behave like any book we'd ever seen.

I had set a protective circle before we began. Rhosyn had drilled that into me. "When dealing with old magic, you shield first."

"Okay," Amelia said, brushing her fingers along a curling edge of parchment. "So far we've got sections on ancestral resonance, blood tethering, magical inheritance, and something called primal memory. What the hell is The Veil section?"

I tapped the spine gently. "That's what it showed when I asked about my future… and Eric's."

The Codex fluttered open without prompting.

"Holy shit," Amelia whispered.

The pages unfolded like petals, revealing dense symbols, sketched diagrams, and text that shimmered in gold script. The headings glowed brighter under our gaze. The book confirmed something Claudine had hinted at but never explained: I wasn't just fae-descended. My blood belonged to an ancient line known as The Veiled, a lineage blessed and cursed with absorbing forgotten magics.

My ancestors weren't just fae. They were something older. Seers. Tenders of thresholds. Bloodlines that remembered.

Some of the names were lost to time. Others shimmered with potential. One — Avyliënna — trembled on the page when I read it aloud.

"Could be your true name," Amelia said softly.

I swallowed. "Sounds more like a warning."

Amelia traced a fingertip along one of the illuminated glyphs in another page. "This part here, what does it say? She asked me. "It's about tethering. Soul bonds, blood exchanges. Looks like they weren't just metaphors to the fae."

I leaned in. The page shimmered, and the script rearranged again under my touch, resolving into words I could almost hear aloud:

When two ancient lines meet, and the bond is not only forged but deepened by soul and blood, the barrier between them softens. What one carries, the other may hold. What one awakens, the other may inherit.

Amelia read aloud. "Sookie… Eric's blood is changing you. But yours is changing him, too."

"He's warmer," I whispered.

"And you're feeding on him like it's your last meal."

It wasn't just physical need. My body ached for his blood now. Not for power. For connection. Balance. Fuel.

Such bonds stabilize magic that would otherwise burn its bearer. In return, the ancient one may regain what time stole.

Eric was gaining life. I was gaining control. And we were doing it together. Amelia gave a low whistle. "So all this bonding with Eric — it's not just love. It's ancient magic. You two aren't just getting hot and heavy, you're literally merging energies."

I nodded slowly. "And it also says it strengthens us. That the bond becomes safer, more stable."

I kept reading according to the book wishes on what to show. Another chapter pulsed when I reached for it: a series of knots woven through a circular loom.

She who walks memory will become memory. The one who binds must also unravel. Only through both may the Gate be closed.

"What the hell does that mean?" Amelia muttered.

"I think… it's talking about memory magic," I said. "And the danger of losing myself in it."

There was an illustration of a woman standing in two places at once — one foot in shadow, the other in flame. The text warned against altering what is seen. Only witness. Never touch. I kept reading. Another page revealed itself, curling open like a rose, and the text changed tone — more clinical, more curious:

On the matter of reproduction between blood-altered species, unions between vampires and mortals were once considered not only taboo, but biologically impossible. However, ancient records hint that under rare conditions — when magic, timing, and blood harmonics align — new life can be created. Not fully a vampire. Not fully a human.

We both stared as the page shimmered into view, revealing a soft script around a sketched infant wrapped in light and vines.

The Verdant-Born are rare. Birthed not from lust or ritual, but convergence. When the tether of night and light, of bone and bloom, is bound in soul and in will. They are not destined. They are chosen. My hands trembled.

"You and Eric…" Amelia whispered. I looked at her. "It's not possible."

But the Codex disagreed. My heart thundered in my chest. "Amelia…"

"I know…" she breathed. "That might be the reason they're after you. Girl, you better use that other kind of protection, you know, I didn't sign up to be a damn witch godmother".

I held my breath. It was impossible…

I leaned back from the Codex, the glow of the page still warm on my fingertips, but a colder thought settling in my chest. A child. Not metaphor, not magic-as-symbol. A real child. Our child. I stared at the sketched infant wrapped in vines and starlight — too beautiful to feel real. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe it never would be.

But if it was… If there was even a chance…

"Amelia," I said softly, "what kind of world would that child even be born into?"

She didn't answer right away. Just sipped her tea, eyes fixed on the page.

"I mean," I continued, voice trembling now, "I'm barely keeping myself from being hunted. I've got vampires playing politics with my blood, dark Faes trying to rip open the veil, and a partner who's lived more than a thousand years and still has enemies in every corner. How do you raise a baby in that?"

Amelia finally looked up. "With a hell of a lot of protection, I imagine. And a lot of love. Which, for what it's worth, you two have in spades." She waited a second and said with a serious look on her face, "Sookie, if this supposed child is destined to you, whether real or metaphorical, I doubt it is something that would bring more problems into this world, in any case, perhaps it would end this whole mess."

Were love and good intentions enough when I didn't even know what I was anymore — or what this bond would do to us in the long run? And still… some part of me, deep in the belly of my magic, wanted. Wanted that possibility. That future. That life. But I didn't say that part out loud.

Suddenly, a note scribbled in the margin caught my eye — not Codex language, but a modern fae hand. Claudine's? She is the key. Protect the Codex. Protect the Line. And everything felt more real. Heavier. Not just a war of vampire politics or Unseelie threats. This was about legacy. Evolution. Maybe even the future of both worlds. Outside, I felt the wards stir like someone had crossed the outer boundary. My heart jumped, but then a buzz reached my phone.

Eric.

I pressed my hand to the Codex. It pulsed once beneath my palm — like it was listening.

I whispered, "We're not done yet."

And I rose to meet him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: The Spirit Remembers

A/N: I would like to mention that I based the beginning of this fanfic right after Felipe De Castro's takeover, BUT, I have changed some character storylines, which might stray from canon. It's definitely an AU, which only takes as absolute canon the events between Sookie and Eric relationship up to that date. With the rest, I like to play. Characters that I'm leaving out of this story, destinies and backgrounds that I'm changing, relationships that in my mind I would like to be different. I try to keep as much as possible within the character and not change their essence or personalities too much, but in order of story development and character growth, some will seem a bit different.

I also want to emphasize that I don't own the characters created by Charlaine Harris, they belong exclusively to her.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I am a hopeless romantic and have always believed that there is more to the world than what we normally see. Not at this level of fantasy, but I find it hard to believe that everything is purely material. I do believe that certain magics can exist, energies move around us at all times, destinies are mapped out, things are not always coincidental. And I do believe that some people are more perceptive to this than others. Based on that, I take it much further and create deeper fantasies of a world where practically anything is plausible, just not everyone sees it.

Because of this, I'm working on an original fantasy/romance novel as well, but focusing a lot on psychology and character development, which is what I enjoy the most: navigating through stories, traumas, dreams, etc.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

—SPOV—

The moment Eric crossed the threshold of our home, everything shifted. His energy, still buzzing from whatever wrath he'd unleashed at Fangtasia, melted into something steadier and quieter. His presence wrapped around me like an invisible cloak.

Amelia took one look at us and gave a mock salute. "I'll be upstairs," she said. "Don't call unless someone's bleeding. Badly. I've got a Buffy marathon to finish." She winked. That witch. I smiled, grateful. Her quarters upstairs had been specifically soundproofed — Eric's idea. She disappeared with a cup of tea and her laptop, the soft sound of her footsteps fading into nothing.

Eric and I stood in silence a moment longer, then he reached for my hand.

"Come, lover," he said. "Let me show you more of this place. I've kept too much to myself."

The back doors opened into the gardens — not the manicured kind, but wild with intention. Moonflowers and creeping vines shimmered in the soft evening light, casting pale glows over stone paths and wind-bent trees.

"It feels... old here," I murmured.

"It is," Eric said.

We walked in silence for a while. The trees rustled like they knew our names.

"So… Alcide?," I said finally, gently. "What happened to Joe?"

Eric's hand tightened slightly around mine. "He failed in his duty. And worse, he lied about it. I dealt with him."

I stopped walking. "Eric. What does that mean? Did you hurt him?"

He faced me, his expression unreadable — but I felt his hesitation, the way his instincts pulled between love and instinct. "He's not dead, if that is your worry. But he will never have access to you again. He's on his way to Texas now, serving a new purpose."

I stared at him, trying to read his face. "You didn't… torture him, did you?"

He hesitated. "No more than necessary. He betrayed us, Sookie. He watched you from the shadows and reported it to our enemies. I will not apologize for protecting you."

I looked away, heart pounding. He reached out and cupped my cheek. "I know my ways are not gentle. But you are everything I cannot afford to lose."

His words softened something in me. I nodded, and he led me farther, to the northern edge of the property. The air shifted there, like it carried a different weight — thicker, older. Trees clustered in a strange formation, and a low circle of stones marked the ground.

"Lover, there's something you need to see…I didn't build this," Eric said. "It was here when I bought the land, and the house. I thought it was strange, maybe old settler magic. But I didn't feel anything from it until you moved in."

Eric stopped at the edge of the overgrown ruins tucked into the far corner of the garden, where the air shimmered faintly and the ground pulsed with warmth underfoot. The evening light caught his features, making him look half-divine, half-shadow. He turned to face me, expression unreadable.

"The previous owner of this property was a warlock — or claimed to be," he began, voice quiet. "He told me the land had ancient Fae energy. Most vampires would have dismissed that as superstition. I didn't. Not entirely. I bought it out of curiosity, and because… something about the ground spoke to me. But it wasn't until you moved in, Sookie, that this place truly came alive. The house responds to you. The land breathes again. These ruins… they're sacred now. Because you're here."

"What do you think it is?"

"A portal, perhaps. Or a remnant of a crossing. But more than that, it feels sacred. Not to me.

To you." Eric said.

My breath caught, the bond tugging soft and deep in my chest.

Eric walked toward the ring of moss-covered stones, his fingertips brushing one. "My people — the Norsemen — had their own understanding of magic. Not like the Fae, but not entirely separate either. We believed in seiðr, the magic of seeing and shaping fate. It was practiced mostly by women — powerful women. My maternal grandmother was a völva, a seer. A shaman. My mother said she healed with plants and bone, spoke in riddles, and whispered to the wind."

He looked back at me. "My sister, Heidrun, inherited that talent. She'd begun learning the ways of seiðr when she was still a girl. But her fate was cruel. One day she warned another village's warriors of a vision she had. That they would not return from their next raid. Instead of listening… they burned her, hoping to erase the prophecy."

I gasped softly. "That's… monstrous."

"They thought killing her would kill their doom. But fate doesn't work that way." Eric's voice was like iron wrapped in sorrow. "Only the Norns — the three ancient women who weave all destinies at the roots of Yggdrasil — can change what is bound." He moved toward the stone circle's center. "The runes weren't just letters to us. They were power. Galdr was the art of speaking them aloud, chanting them into the world. Odin sacrificed himself to learn the runes — hung nine days and nights from the world tree, pierced by his own spear. A god seeking wisdom in death. I remember those stories vividly… and I saw runes often as a boy. On stones. On weapons. On skin."

Something fluttered in my chest.

"We also believed in the fylgja — a spirit guide, animal-shaped, tied to the soul. Most people never saw theirs. Only the magical ones. The seers. I saw mine often as a child. A bear. It perched outside the longhouse, watching. I never told that to anyone. A man with magic or some access to it was not accepted in our society. But the last time I saw it was the morning of the day I died. I dreamt it — clearly, vividly. The bear watched me from the nearest tree, and whispered something in a language I didn't know. That evening, I went into battle."

I stepped closer, my voice gentle. "And you didn't come back."

He nodded. "That was in the first half of the 900s according to the Roman calendar. My human life ended. My undead one began. But I wonder… What if that bear wasn't just a fylgja? What if it was a warning? Or a guide from the old realms?"

The ruins around us pulsed faintly with warmth, responding to our shared breath. Eric continued, his voice now heavier with awe than sorrow.

"Norse cosmology spoke of nine realms. Midgard — Earth. Asgard — home of the gods. Alfheim… the land of the light elves. Creatures who sound far more like your kin than mine."

My heart jumped. "That's what I needed to tell you," I said, cutting in. "Amelia and I spent the afternoon with the Codex. It opened more pages, more truths. About my bloodline — it's not just fae. It's called The Veiled. A forgotten line that absorbs old, dangerous magic. It makes sense now why my gifts are so different. Why even other fae don't always understand."

Eric listened, unmoving.

"Eric… you've carried all these pains alone for so long."

"I've never spoken of her to anyone," he said. "Not even Pam."

The weight of that hit me like thunder. I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder. The circle buzzed faintly under our feet, and I felt the bond warm, like it too was listening.

"I think the Codex speaks differently when you're near," I whispered. "Maybe… maybe it's your blood. Maybe it's remembering, too."

He turned to me. "You think it recognizes me?"

"I think we should test it. Together."

He nodded slowly.

"There's more," he said. "Deeper into the woods. The trees grow denser, but the magic grows stronger. I want to show you something. And… I want you to try something for me."

I tilted my head. "What?"

"I want you to read me."

My breath caught.

"My memory," he clarified. "If the Codex says you can walk into someone's past… then I want you to try it. On me."

"Eric, that's... I don't know..."

"I trust you," he said simply. "I want you to see who I was. The human me. The boy. The brother. Before vampire. Before war. Maybe it will help. Maybe it will unlock something."

My heart beat faster. The thought of touching his memories, of walking inside them — of him — made my skin tingle.

He stepped back and extended his hand. "Come. I'll take you to the place where the veil between times feels thin."

I slipped my hand into his. "Then let's find your thread, Viking."

We walked in silence, hand in hand, deeper into the woods. The trees thickened, their trunks knotted like old knuckles, their leaves whispering in languages I didn't know but almost understood. Moss spread thick across the forest floor, pulsing faintly with golden light the deeper we went, like the earth itself was breathing. The air grew warmer, denser, as if steeped in magic too old to speak aloud.

Eric finally stopped in a small hollow wrapped in vines and white-flowering bushes that bloomed even in moonlight. A flat stone sat at the center, half-swallowed by roots. My skin tingled. The air shimmered.

"This is where I feel it strongest," he said, voice hushed. "As if time remembers itself here."

I nodded, feeling the pull too — a soft tug in my chest, just behind the sternum. The bond was warm again, but quieter now, like it too was holding its breath. My hands trembled at the external energy and my stomach began to glow a little.

Eric turned to face me, letting go of my hand. "If you reach for the thread, I'll open myself to you. I won't shield anything."

"Are you sure?" My voice was barely a whisper. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," he said, and knelt on the stone. "If you're willing, Sookie… step in."

I knelt across from him, resting my hands in his. Our bond pulsed once, then steadied, and I reached. Not with my fingers, but with something deeper — the part of me that glowed in the dark, that saw beneath the skin, that heard the language of roots and stars and sorrow. And the forest fell away.

Don't interfere, don't interfere, remember Sookie please. I told myself a million times.

I opened my eyes in the snow.

Thick drifts buried the world, but I wasn't cold. I stood barefoot in a Nordic twilight, watching a boy no older than ten stumble through a frost-covered glade, clutching a bundle of firewood. His cheeks were red from the wind, his hands cracked and raw. But he was proud. Determined. And behind his eyes — I saw Eiríkr, his Norse name. The same storm, still forming.

He entered a longhouse lit by firelight and filled with laughter. His mother was there — tall, strong, her hair braided with silver beads, her presence like a song of protection. She smiled as he entered and kissed his forehead. Behind her, a young girl with bright eyes and long blond braids looked up from the runes she was etching into the dirt. Heidrun.

The memory shifted— A bear under a tree. Watching. Then, flames. Screams. Heidrun being dragged from their home, her eyes calm as winter. She never screamed. The fire consumed the platform she stood on, and Eric, older now, fought against the arms holding him back. His scream then was the loudest of all.

And then— Steel. A battlefield. Eric, taller, a sword in each hand, blood across his cheek. He fought with fury and sorrow braided together. The bear started circling. Watching. Waiting. The sky darkened.

A final vision: Eric knelt in the snow beside a dead comrade, the sun setting behind him. The bear placed itself under a tree and spoke. I couldn't hear the words — they were in another tongue — but Eric did. He closed his eyes. Accepted the message.

He stood, alone, waiting for his fate to arrive. The world tilted— I gasped back into the forest clearing, clutching Eric's hands like a lifeline. Pure golden light circulating between the two of us, my hands boiling as if on fire. He was watching me, but not demanding. Just waiting. Open. Vulnerable in a way I don't think he'd ever let anyone see before.

"I saw her," I whispered. "Heidrun. And your mother. Your home."

He nodded once. "And the bear?"

"Yes."

He swallowed. "Then you saw my death."

"No, I only saw up to the point where you said goodbye to your comrade." I said.

The forest pulsed around us, not threatening — blessing. The stone beneath us was heavily warm. A breeze stirred the trees above, carrying the scent of ash, and snow, and pine. Eric looked down, quiet. "Sometimes I wonder if the bear led me to you."

I didn't speak. I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his. The bond between us shimmered — no longer just blood and magic, but something deeper.

"Maybe," I said softly. "Or maybe… I was always part of your thread."

The grove was still humming beneath us.

"I think she saw me," I said softly, my voice barely above the hush of the leaves. "Heidrun. Your sister."

Eric looked at me, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, not in suspicion — but in awe. "You mean… in the vision?"

I shook my head. "Not just in the vision. Before. Maybe even before I was born. It's like she… recognized me. Or the shape of me." He watched me for a moment, then released my hand slowly. Not pulling away — making space.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

I let my palm hover over the warm stone between us. "I want to go back in. Not to you this time. To her. Or your grandmother. There's something buried in your bloodline, Eric. Something that remembers the Veiled. Maybe even guarded it."

Eric's jaw tightened, but he didn't protest. "And you think this place… this stone… can open that door?"

"I think the door's already open," I whispered. "It's been open since I stepped into your life. I just didn't realize it."

The grove around us stirred, a breeze curling through the trees that smelled like wildflowers and frost. The kind of scent that doesn't belong to any season — or maybe to all of them at once. The Earth had granted me permission. Eric's voice was low, nearly reverent. "She used to sing to the stones. Heidrun. When we were children. My mother said it was nonsense. But sometimes, when the firelight caught her eyes just right, I thought she looked… somewhere else."

I glanced at him. "Would you trust me to try? To go further in?"

"I would trust you," he said, "to walk through fire with my heart in your hand." The weight of that stilled my breath.

I reached out, now by instinct, placing one hand on the stone and one on Eric's heart. It was warmer than before. Almost pulsing. Like it wanted this. Eric stood quiet, kneeling in front of me "Do what you did before. But reach deeper. Use the bond if you need to.".

I closed my eyes, letting the thrum of the land guide me. The bond shimmered faintly, and then… I reached. The world bloomed around me — not as Eric's had, in blood and snow, but in threads of silver light weaving through shadow. A woman stood in a ring of stones not unlike the one I knelt in now. Her hair was loose, streaked with white though her face was young. Her hands were stained with herbs and ash.

She sang softly in a language older than Norse. It was the tongue of seiðr. At her feet, a child sat — watching. Heidrun.

The older woman — the grandmother — knelt and touched her brow. "You carry the echo, little crow. Someday your brother will walk beside the light-bearer, and the gate will open again. But you will not see it. You must tell him, before your voice is stolen."

Heidrun blinked, her eyes far too knowing for her age. "Will she be like us?"

"No. She will be more. Her line was made to remember what ours forgot."

The scene dissolved in a rush of wind and falling stars— I gasped and opened my eyes. Eric caught me before I could tip forward, his hands strong at my shoulders. "What did you see?"

"Your grandmother," I breathed. "She knew. She knew. She told Heidrun to give you the message. That you'd walk beside the light-bearer — that's me, Eric. And that the gate would open with us."

Eric stared, stunned. "My grandmother was Veiled."

"Or something close, maybe a descendant" I said. "And Heidrun… she tried to warn you. That prophecy — it wasn't just poetry. It was her final message."

Eric's grip tightened just slightly. "Then this isn't a coincidence."

"No," I said. "We were meant to find this. Together."

Above us, a single white blossom from the trees drifted down onto the stone. It burned faintly gold where it landed. By the time we reached the house, my legs were trembling. Eric didn't say a word as he opened the back door, just kept one arm lightly around my waist. The house felt warmer than it should — like the stones and wood had soaked in the magic from the grove and were holding it in their bones. Or maybe that was just me. My body was screaming for sleep, but my mind? Racing. I needed parchment. Pens. I needed to draw the grove, write the prophecy, map the threads between his grandmother, Heidrun, and me. There were connections forming — shapes curling in the shadows of my memory.

Eric led me to the library, his hand never leaving mine.

"You need to eat," he said quietly. "You're glowing, but you're fading."

I opened my mouth to argue, but my stomach made a sound like thunder, and he raised an eyebrow. Viking smug. I would've rolled my eyes if I wasn't so dizzy. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a minute later with warm bread, Ibérico ham, at least three different kind of cheese, olives, grapes and honeyed apples and an iced tea on a small tray. Vampire or not, he always fed me like I was the last ember in a dying fire.

"You're going to be no use to fate if you collapse before you change it," he said, pressing the tray into my lap as I curled up on the library settee.

I gave him a tired look. "Is that your way of saying 'I love you'?" Eric's eyes softened, and he dropped into the seat beside me, one arm sliding around my shoulders. "Yes," he murmured. "Now eat, Dear One."

The library was quiet but alive. The fire Eric made crackled low. Books lined the shelves like watching eyes. And in the far corner — where the Codex had been hidden beneath an old woven cloth inside a hollow compartment — something stirred. A flicker of light. Then another. I straightened slightly, forgetting the bread in my hand. Eric noticed it too. "It's waking again," he said under his breath. The light pulsed once more — brighter this time. Like a heartbeat under stone. Then… a thud. Movement. The Codex was knocking against its hiding place. Not violently. Urgently.

"I think it wants out," I whispered.

Eric stood and moved toward the corner, but I lifted a hand.

"No—wait." He turned to look at me, brow raised.

I felt it again — the hum in my chest, the echo of the grove, the bond threading through every breath between us. A gift I had barely dared to name, something I'd only started to practice in private: calling. I extended my palm and closed my eyes.

Come to me, I whispered, not aloud, but in the language of intention. You know me. I am of the Veil. I am the thread reborn.

A pause. Then — movement. A rush of air. The scent of old magic. And then thunk—the Codex launched itself from its place, sliding across the floor and into my waiting hand like a loyal hound returned from the wild.

My eyes snapped open. The book was warm, almost hot, pulsing faint gold along its edges. Eric stared in reverence.

"You called it," he said softly. "Sookie… it came to you."

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the Codex grounding me even as my pulse raced. The Codex pulsed once in my hands — like a heartbeat, or a breath. Its worn leather cover shifted under my fingers, not cracking or creaking, but flexing like something alive. Then the gold along the spine flared, and with a soft sigh, it opened on its own. Eric moved closer, his arm brushing mine as we both leaned over the ancient pages. The air thickened again, like it had in the grove. The pages flipped rapidly at first — too fast to read — then stopped. A blank parchment lay before us, but as we watched, ink bled up from the page, forming words that shimmered and sank into place like water turning to silver. It was the same ancient language, but Eric could understand it perfectly.

"The Echo Line"

Eric's brow furrowed. "That's… not Norse. Not Fae."

"No," I murmured. The Codex continued writing.

"The Echo Line: a bloodline born in the twilight between realms — where Sight met Silence, and shadow drank from silver springs."

In the time before veils, before exile and fire, there were unions made in secret. Between the Weavers of Song and the Whisperers of Root.

The völva of the North were not merely mortal. Some carried echoes — slivers of the old blood hidden in bone and light.

The Seer bore the mark. Her line sang the prophecy before the gate was sealed.

One child, marked by war and frost, would carry the dormant thread through death and into the dark.

If the light-bearer awakened him, the gate would stir."

My breath caught. "Eric," I whispered. "I think it's talking about you."

He was motionless, eyes fixed on the page. "I died carrying it," he said slowly. "And it… came with me into undeath?"

I nodded. "That's why you felt the land before I did. Why the grove responded to you. Why the Codex is showing itself to you now. You weren't just drawn to this place. You were called."

Eric looked at me, and for a moment, the centuries vanished from his face. He looked like the boy I'd seen in his memory — the boy standing in the snow, staring at the bear.

"And you," he said softly. "You're the only one who could wake it."

The Codex shifted again. Another line appeared, slowly, deliberately, as though etched by fire:

"Together, the light and the echo may unseal the threads lost to time. But the bond must hold, or the veil shall fall forever."

We stared at the words. Somehow, the room felt different now. Eric finally spoke, his voice rough. "If I'm an echo… then I was never meant to walk alone." I set the Codex aside and leaned into him, forehead to his chest. His arms came around me like instinct.

"You're not alone anymore," I whispered. The Codex glowed once more. Then, just before the light faded, a final line appeared:

"The gate waits. The fire is not yet lit."

Eric exhaled, a slow, almost reverent breath. "The gate," he repeated, almost to himself. "Not a metaphor. I think it's real."

I pulled back slightly, watching his face. "What do you mean?"

But he didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the fading words like they were a map only he could read. And then, the Codex pulsed again. A flash — just a second — of faint, angular script etched in the margin, thinner than the book's usual hand. A second later, it was gone. But Eric had seen it.

"Gate opens at moonrise, 5:54. You must be there. She will walk with you. You will not burn. Trust the bond"

The ink vanished. I blinked. "Did it just—?" Eric nodded, slow and deliberate. "Claudine."

"She sent that to you?"

"She said the gate opens at moonrise, at 5:54." He glanced at the old brass clock on the library mantel. "That's in fifteen minutes… and ten minutes before dawn". Something inside me clenched. "But wait, explain to me what you saw, was it a note in the margin written in a different handwriting than the one in the Codex?" I asked with urgency in my tone.

"Yes, why?"

"Before you came home today, with Amelia, we were reading the Codex, and I could see an annotation in the margin that seemed strange to me... erm, let me look where" I took the Codex to look for the page and the note, without success, the note had disappeared. "It disappeared..."

"And what did it say?" Eric asked with a rare calmness, as if this were a usual everyday routine.

"She is the key. Protect the Codex. Protect the Line…" I repeated. "I'm honestly not sure if it was Claudine's, It was not signed by anyone, but I could recognize that handwriting"

Eric now seemed to be concentrating in thought, as if connecting dots of a story.

"She said you'd walk into it?" I asked, carefully. "That you'd be okay?"

"She said I won't burn." He met my gaze. "Not if you're with me."

I hesitated — not because I didn't believe it, but because the weight of it pressed against everything I knew about him. About vampires. About the sun.

"You've never tried."

"No," he said quietly. "Because I've never had a reason. Walking to the sun is suicide."

The room went still. I stood slowly, my body still aching from the visionwalk, but my pulse sharp now with adrenaline.

"Then let's go," I said. "If there's a gate, we'll find it. Together. If not… how many seconds can you be back home here?" I asked, with some apprehension.

"Faster than you think" He winked at me.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: The Gate

–SPOV–

The world outside was now gray with pre-dawn hush. The library was behind us now, but the questions I carried hadn't quieted with the Codex. If anything, they pulsed louder, sharper, faster. Every second brought us closer to 5:54, and the moment Claudine had pointed toward. But was it Claudine herself?

Silent.

"Claudine," I whispered into the air as we stepped back into the overgrown garden, "if you can hear me… please. I need more than riddles. I need you."

No answer.

I closed my eyes, pressing my hand over the bond — that warm thread between me and Eric. It hummed with his steadiness, his quiet faith. He hadn't asked again what this was, where they were going. He trusted me without question. And I wasn't sure if I could carry that. "Claudine," I said again, louder now. "Where is the gate? What is the gate? Why does it have to be him?" Still nothing — just the rustle of trees, the whisper of wind.

Then—A flicker. Like a breath on my neck. "Trust, Sookie." I turned, but no one was there. A brush of presence. A pressure in my chest like someone pressing their hand gently over my heart.

"See… he trusts you with his life. Will you not do the same?"

I swallowed hard. I do trust him. I do trust our bond. Or so I think. Trust has never been my great virtue, rather a vote I have given to some people and just the wrong ones. I was just too afraid of losing him. "But what if I'm wrong?"

"Then you learn. The gate waits only for belief. Not proof."

Eric was watching me, patient. Not afraid. Not even when the first threads of light began to stir in the sky behind us.

"You must walk where the bear watches."

The words brushed the inside of my skull, feather-light. And then I knew.

"The stone," I said aloud. "The one from your memory. Where I saw you. Where I saw her."

Eric nodded once. "Lead the way."

We walked without speaking. The path to the grove felt different now. Like every leaf had been holding its breath for a hundred years, waiting for this. For us. When we reached the circle, I stepped into the center, placing my hand on the wide, flat stone where I had first felt the pulse of Eric's past. It was warm again. Not hot, not glowing — but alive. A thrum under my skin. A recognition.

"Claudine," I whispered, "what is this gate? Where does it go?"

The wind shifted. And I heard her. Not from outside. From inside.

"It is not a place. It is a threshold. A memory buried in the roots of the world. It  leads to what was lost — in blood, in fire, in forgetting. You must walk it with  him. Or not at all."

I looked back at Eric. The light behind him was growing brighter. He stepped into the circle beside me.

And I knew. The gate wasn't a door. It was a choice. "I need you to promise me something," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Eric tilted his head, just slightly. "If we go in," I said, stepping closer to the warm stone, "you don't touch anything. Don't interfere. Don't speak. Not until we know what this is." His gaze was steady. "You think it's dangerous?"

"I think it's old. And I don't know the rules." A long pause. Then he nodded. "I won't interfere. Unless you're in danger."

"Fair," I said softly. "But don't come chasing me if I don't come back right away. I mean it, Eric. You can protect me here, but there I can protect myself well enough". His jaw tightened — just a flicker — but he nodded again. I turned back to the stone. The pulse beneath my palm had changed — deeper now, rhythmic. A heartbeat… or a summoning drum.

5.53. I sighed. Eric looked at me with a complexity on his face, somewhere between reverence, love, trust and surrender. We held hands.

5.54. And I felt it. The world around us shivered. The edges of the grove warped, like heat rising from pavement, but it wasn't temperature — it was time. The wind died. The birds fell silent.

And then the stone cracked. Not loudly. Not violently. It opened like a breath — splitting straight down the center, moss flaring gold as if it had been lit from within. The light that spilled out wasn't like sunlight or firelight — it was memory-light, silver and soft, like moonlight passing through water.

Then it peeled open. The stone parted, folding outward like petals of an enormous flower. And in the center — where there had been solid earth a second before — there was now nothing.

No floor. No sky. Just a vertical shimmer of light suspended in air. A doorway of woven mist and silver threads that pulsed like veins. A gate. Not made of wood. Not made of stone. Made of intention.

I swallowed. Eric stood beside me, not moving, but watching me with those eyes that had seen centuries of war and silence — and never once what he was seeing now.

"What is it?" he asked. I didn't answer right away. Because I could feel it now. Not just see it. I could feel what it was.

"It's not a passage," I said slowly. "Not like we think. It's a return. A place we once were. A knowing we forgot. A wound that never healed."

He didn't speak.

"I think it shows us what we left behind. Or what was taken."

The bond between us hummed — low and steady. I reached my hand toward the shimmer, and it welcomed me. No resistance. No warning. Just the soft brush of silk and salt and sorrow.

"I'm scared," I whispered.

"I know," Eric said. "So am I."

I turned to look at him. The gate pulsed once. I stepped through. The moment I stepped through the gate, I expected cold, or light, or maybe nothing at all. What I didn't expect… was stillness. A soft, warm stillness — like the world had been wrapped in cotton and set to rest. There was no sky. No ground, not really — just a pale, silver mist that held my weight. The air shimmered with something like music, but there was no melody. No source. Just feeling.

I turned, but the gate was gone.

Eric wasn't beside me. I was alone.

"Hello?" My voice felt too loud, even though I barely spoke. "Claudine?"

Silence. Then, the mist began to shift — curling in upon itself, like memory being stirred. A figure formed. At first I thought it was Claudine — tall, graceful — but no. She was older. Not in body, but in presence. Her hair was long, braided with silver, and her eyes… her eyes were mine. Not just similar. Exact.

She stepped forward without sound, and I felt my breath catch.

"You're Veiled," I whispered.

The woman smiled faintly. "I was. Before the silence." Her voice was layered — like she was speaking with every woman who came before me.

"Who are you?"

"I have worn many names," she said. "But the one that belongs to you… is Seedmother. I am the one who braided your line into the world of men." She extended her hand toward me — palm up — and I saw a glowing thread pulse beneath her skin. It led backward. Into the fog.

I didn't move. "I don't understand," I said.

"You don't need to. You need to remember."

Behind her, the mist shimmered again. Another figure appeared — younger, but wearing grief like armor. Her blond hair was braided the same way Eric's had been in his memory. Her eyes were pale as stormlight. Heidrun. My breath caught. "She's…?"

"She's waiting," said the Seedmother. "But first, you must earn your right to speak with the dead."

"I don't want power," I said. "I just want to understand."

"And that," she replied, "is the trial."

The world shifted. Suddenly I was in a hall of shadows. Candles flickered without flame. All around me, mirrors hung suspended in the air — but they didn't show me. They showed moments. My own life. My mistakes. The times I pushed away love. The moments I turned from my gift. My voice when I lied. My face when I doubted. One by one, the mirrors cracked.

The Seedmother's voice echoed in the stillness:

"To walk deeper, you must face what you have forgotten.

What you have denied.

What you have buried beneath duty, fear, and love."

I fell to my knees. It was too much. Too raw. But then — I felt it. A weight on my shoulder. Warm. Steady. Eric. Not in body — in bond. He wasn't here… but his trust was. And that was enough. I stood.

"I know who I am," I said aloud. "I may not understand the whole of it yet, but I won't hide from it."

The mirrors exploded into light. When it cleared — Heidrun stood in the mist, waiting. Heidrun stood in the mist, as still and pale as a statue carved from moonlight. But her eyes — Jesus Christ, her eyes — were storm-blue, so much like Eric's it made my chest ache.

"I've waited a long time to meet you," she said in Old Norse, but I could understand it. Her voice was soft and careful, like it could unravel the whole world if she let it. I stepped forward slowly.

"You saw me," I said, speaking in Old Norse as well… what the hell. "Before I was born."

She nodded. "I saw you in pieces. In riddles. In fire."

Her gaze flicked to the shimmering trail of light I'd followed through the mist. "When I was a girl, I dreamed of a woman wrapped in silver and ash, walking through blood toward a dying tree. Her hands were light. Her voice was truth. I didn't know what it meant until I saw you walk through my brother's memory."

"You knew I would come," I whispered.

"I hoped you would," she said.

Then the Seedmother appeared again, this time not distant, but standing between us. "We are three threads," she said, her voice rippling like deep water. "The Echo. The Light. The Root." I felt it then, in my body, in my bones, the rightness of this. The Veil hadn't just passed through me. It had been waiting for me. The Seedmother extended her hand, and with a gesture that felt more ancient than language, she pulled the mist aside. And we saw. The ground fell away beneath us, replaced by stars. Below, an ancient tree spread across a dark sky — Yggdrasil. Its roots twined through cities, bones, oceans. Its branches were carved with runes, and one of them glowed gold — severed. Burning.

The Seedmother pointed. "That was the breach. When the Veil fell, we burned a root of the world to hide what we carried."

Images followed: Faes running through a forest of light, holding children made of starlight; Norse women in furs and ash painting runes into cave walls; A warlock with bright eyes carving a stone and whispering, "She must forget…" Then, a bear, circling over a longhouse, looking for the child. Eric.

Heidrun whispered "We left pieces of the Gate in each of us. In blood. In sacrifice."

The Seedmother nodded. "And now the Light has come to gather them."

-Back in the mist-

I was shaking. Not with fear. With awe. "But why me?" I asked. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it." The Seedmother stepped closer. "The thread chooses who remembers. Not who wants."

Heidrun smiled sadly. "And we don't choose who we love. But it matters." I looked at both of them — this line of women I had never known, and yet had always known.

"What happens now?"

The Seedmother pressed her palm to mine. "Now you go back," she said. "And you light the fire."

The gate began to pulse again — a signal. Time was moving. The dawn was rising. The veil would close soon. Heidrun stepped forward, placing a hand over my heart.

"Tell him I kept the prophecy safe. Tell him… he was never the shadow. He was the key. And tell him I'm proud of him." I swallowed a sob.

"I will." The mist pulled away like breath. The shimmer returned. And I walked back through the gate… toward Eric.

The gate released me like a sigh. I stepped back into the grove just as the first edge of the sun broke over the horizon. The light hit Eric's face — and still, he didn't burn. He stood at the edge of the stone circle, eyes fixed on the space I'd disappeared through. His expression didn't show fear. Just... patience. And faith. He saw me, and for a breath, he didn't move. Then—

"Sookie."

He said my name like he'd waited years for it. Like he was anchoring himself to the world with it. I didn't speak. I walked straight into his arms. He caught me, wrapping me up so tight I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. The bond flared between us — not with urgency or pain, but with truth.

His hand came up, brushing the back of my head. "You're shaking." I nodded against his chest. "A little."

"You're back." He studied me like someone trying to understand a scripture written in a language he didn't know he spoke.

"What did you see?"

My throat tightened. "Her."

"Heidrun?"

"And another. A woman older than the world. The Seedmother."

His lips parted, but he didn't interrupt.

"They showed me what the gate really was. What it protects. And what we carry."

Eric's hand tightened gently around mine.

"I have to tell you everything," I said. "But not here. Not yet. I need… time to hold it right."

"I'll wait," he said, voice quiet but certain. "However long it takes."

The sun continued to rise. But Eric didn't flinch. He just stood there in full light, golden and unburned.

Chapter Text

A/N: Okay, I just LOVED writing this chapter. It is definitely my favorite so far. Hope you like it!

Lemons ahead!

Chapter 15: Fylgja

–SPOV–

The smell of baked rosemary bread and sweet tea filled the kitchen, but I barely tasted anything. Amelia watched me from across the table, chewing thoughtfully, one leg tucked under her as usual. I'd been talking for the last twenty minutes — trying to lay it all out. What I saw at the gate. The Seedmother. Heidrun. The tree with its burning root. The whispers of restoration and choice.

"It's like the more I remember," I said, scrawling another line in my leather-bound journal,

"the more I realize how much I never knew."

"You mean about the Veil?" Amelia asked, eyebrows drawn together.

"About me." I looked up. "About what I'm tied to. About why I can do what I can do."

Amelia reached across the table and put her hand gently on mine. "Sook… I don't want to be the killjoy in the sacred goddess dream, but—this is a lot. And you've been running on magic, adrenaline, and like three hours of sleep for the past whole week."

I let out a breath. "You're not wrong."

She gave me a small smile. "You look like a moonlit forest deity with a good conditioner, but your soul's doing calculus. Slow it down."

I laughed, tired and grateful. "Yeah. I should. I know I should."

Amelia stood. "Take a bath. Let the journal rest. I'll ward the windows, keep an eye on the house."

I hugged her as I passed. "You're a good friend."

"Remind me of that when this whole thing ends with a time rupture and a thunderbird screaming at my aura."

I let the hot water rise in the clawfoot tub until it nearly steamed over the edge. Oils, herbs — the relaxing kind — bloomed into the air. My muscles unknotted inch by inch. But the images didn't leave me.

The Seedmother's voice. Heidrun's hand on my heart. The reflection of myself in mist that wasn't quite me, but could be. Was. I closed my eyes. And… Eric is awake?

—EPOV—

The house was quiet. It always was, during the day — but this quiet felt heavier than usual. Like the walls were holding their breath. I lay still beneath the sheets, bare chest rising slowly, unnaturally. The windows had been shuttered tight hours ago. The blackout wards sealed. Still, my body hadn't dropped fully into its death-sleep. Too much had happened. And so fucking fast. In less than a week, I had walked through the flames and not burned. Watched ancient runes glow beneath my skin. Felt a power in the ground respond to her voice — not mine. I'd seen Sookie step into a memory that wasn't hers, speak with a sister I had buried in fire, and awaken a part of my world that had been dead for a thousand years. And through it all — she remained Sookie. Stubborn. Soft-hearted. Unbreakable. Terrifying.

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Her scent reached me before her footsteps did — moon-sweet and wild and warm from the kitchen, with a faint trace of honey and ink. She'd been writing again. She crossed the room slowly. Soft steps. She thought I was sleeping. She was right — or she would be, soon. She placed a soft kiss on my forehead and murmured: "Hi baby, you look like an angel covered in chocolate I might want to lick later. I love you".

She loves me? She has never said that to me. I heard the subtle shift of her movements as she stepped into the bathroom. The rustle of fabric sliding off skin. The quiet splash of water. Then her scent, changing — warmed by steam, softened by oils. Ah, perfection.

I didn't need to open my eyes to see her. She was sacred in her ordinary motions. I could map her by scent, sound, the rhythm of her breath when she thought no one was listening. She moved like someone unaware of her gravity — and yet the world bent around her. That smell, that exquisite smell of her body and her blood pulsing under his skin. Such exquisite blood, such as I had never tasted in a thousand years. It didn't seem human. Well... it wasn't. I needed to go with her, I'm not strong enough to deal with my hunger. But I remained still. I couldn't fight the pull of the day. And I was extremely exhausted. I hadn't felt like this since the early days of my turning — when the weight of what I'd become pressed into my ribs like armor I hadn't yet earned. Too much had changed. And something else was still changing. I could feel it under my own skin. That rune, glowing in the dark. Her light, burning through my sleep. And then— I started dreaming. But it didn't feel like a dream. No symbols. No metaphors. No shadows clawing at memory.

Just light.

At first, it was distant. A flicker. The kind of glow that might curl around a torch, or a candle left burning in the fog. But then it grew. I was standing in a wide, open field — gold beneath my feet, sky bleeding toward twilight. There was no wind. No sound. The air was heavy with something sacred. And in the center of it all, she stood. Sookie. Barefoot in the golden grass, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes brighter than I had ever seen them — like morning stars. She held something in her hands. Light. Not flame. Not magic. Not Fae shimmer. Real light. Pure and alive, pulsing in a sphere between her palms. Like she'd caught a star and was holding it without fear. She didn't see me at first. I was a mere witness of this moment. She was moving slowly across the field, toward shadows at the edge. People. Figures. Wounded, twisted things, hunched under the weight of grief and ruin. Some of them were bleeding. Some were barely more than shapes. But they were suffering. She moved toward them. And without a word, she lifted her hands. The light she held pulsed once — and then stretched outward. She didn't force it. Didn't command it. Just… offered it. And the wounded figures changed. They straightened. The pain fell from them like dust. They were healed. One by one, she passed her hands over them. A woman with a broken spine. A child without a voice. A man whose heart had been eaten by rage. Healed. Restored. Recovered. And still she walked, barefoot, fearless, carrying that impossible light in her hands like it had always been hers.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Because I knew that I wasn't seeing a prophecy, nor some Fae fantasy, but Truth. Sookie wasn't a weapon. She was a balm. A restorer. She was never going to destroy the world. She was going to mend it. And then—she turned. Her eyes met mine across the field. Steady. Bright. She smiled. Not like a goddess or a queen. Just like her. And I heard her voice in my mind:

"You were never the monster, Eric."

"And I was never the weapon."

I dropped to my knees. In peace. Then I looked down — and I saw it again. The rune burned faintly on my chest.

ᛏ — Tiwaz. Justice. Sacrifice. Truth.

The light from her hands reached me, and for a second I felt something I hadn't felt in over a thousand years: my heartbeat. I woke up. For real this time. The room was dim. The sun hadn't set, but the house was quiet, warm. And I was smiling. I got up. Walked quietly to the bathroom, drawn to her as I always had been — like gravity, like fate. She was resting in the tub, eyes closed, humming something soft and sweet, like a lullaby she didn't know she was singing. I knelt beside her and took her hand. She startled.

"Eric! Cheese and rice…" she gasped, her hand pressing to her chest. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sookie," I said, voice low. "Sookie…" I couldn't speak. I couldn't find the words. I was feeling too much. We vampires feel everything — too much, too often. That's why we control. Why we contain. Why we shut ourselves off. But right now, I didn't want to contain anything.

"I'll be right back," I said, and left her there — confused, warm in the water, watching me go. I opened the drawer. Found the box. And I returned. She looked up at me, her hair spilling over the edge of the tub, those glassy blue eyes wide with wonder and worry, as if I were the most beautiful thing in the world to her. I am nothing. She is everything. I knelt again, the box in one hand, her fingers in the other.

"I had a dream," I told her.

Her smile softened. "Tell me about it, honey."

"I dreamed of you," I said. "And your magic…made my heart beat again."

Her breath caught. I could feel my eyes pooling — that thick red shimmer vampires cry when emotion breaks the surface. I had rarely done so in my long existence. But for her? Everything. I opened the box.

"Marry me, lover," I whispered.

Her lips parted, and she inhaled like it was her first breath on earth. Her hand rose to her chest, then back to mine.

"I thought that in some way we already were..." she said, eyes gleaming, impossibly wider smile. "Yes, Eric"

—SPOV—

The ring was gold — warm and heavy, but not in a bad way. It felt real. Solid in a way most things weren't anymore. The ruby at the center caught the firelight like it had a secret heartbeat, dark red and smoldering. Like blood, like love that refused to be soft. A circle of tiny diamonds ringed it — not flashy, just perfect. Each one like a star bound in orbit. I turned it in the light, and there, carved on the inside of the band in small, elegant script:

I will always come back to you.

Something inside me cracked. People had always left me. Died. Lied. Forgotten. Even loved ones — maybe especially loved ones — had slipped through my fingers like smoke. But this? This was a promise not to stay. It was a promise to return. Always. I looked up, and Eric was already watching me. Like he was memorizing the moment, branding it into whatever part of him still dreamed.

I stepped out of the tub, bare skin prickling in the air. I wore nothing but that ring. He reached for me like he was in a trance. Like I was something he had only ever imagined. Eric reached for me like I was salvation, like I was something lost and found again. His hands were large, reverent, calloused from centuries of war and grace, and when they touched my waist, I felt the world tilt.

He pulled me against him, and his lips crashed into mine before I could speak. No hesitation. No asking. Just brutal need. It wasn't soft. It was fierce. Like he'd waited a thousand years for me to say yes — and now that I had, he needed to show me with his whole body. Every inch. Every vow he couldn't put into words. I was shaking by the time he lifted me. He carried me to the bed like I weighed nothing. The air between us thickened — the bond tightening, heating, alive. The moment my back touched the sheets, everything changed. The ground shivered beneath us — a subtle tremor that moved up through the floorboards like a sigh too big to hold.

The walls whispered, the air cracked faintly with power, and a soft, golden light bloomed around the edges of the room. Like the veil between this world and something older was pulling back — watching. Listening. Blessing.

Eric hovered over me, eyes glowing with restraint that was quickly unraveling. He kissed me like a man who'd died too many times, and only now remembered how to live. His mouth took its time and traced my collarbone, my breasts, the line of my stomach.

Worshipful. Intent. Precise. Rough.

His fingers between my wet folds, trying to make me lose my mind right there.

"Oh, baby… that feels so good" I sighed, I was already having a hard time talking and this was just the beginning.

"So wet, Sookie, so exquisitely wet for me". He let his mouth guide itself to my core, pressing and circling over the exact spots, as he ventured his fingers deep inside me. He wouldn't stop until he made me orgasm. Eric wasn't satisfied with me exploding just once, he was a lover obsessed with leaving me so sated that I could no longer move my limbs. He started with one finger, then two, firm, inside… long fingers, now completely wet from me, looking for that tipping point. While his tongue, and now his fangs completely out, savored my clit and folds, seeking to create the perfect rhythm and coordination between what was happening outside and inside. He knew how to handle me, by heart.

"Tell me what you feel, lover. I want you to tell me what you feel when I make love to you." He said, without stopping or hindering for a damn second his impeccable choreography, staring me straight in the eyes. Seeking to claim me even more by penetrating me with his gaze.

"Fuck, Eric… I can't" I really couldn't, my brain was already on the other side, paying attention to the nerve connections that were being manipulated and not to the articulated thought. "Eric… baby, it feels so good, I need you… MORE… YES."

It was all I managed to put together with all my neurons contributing to a single purpose. That talk turned him on too. But the fucker increased the speed of his dance, zero problem for him with his vampire moves and made me climax faster than I thought.

"YES… BABY, YES ERIC, SWEET JESUS…" I screamed as it was my last opportunity to do it because I was gonna die.

"Are you ready for me, lover?" He asked me, as he was already looking to position himself at the entry point, holding my gaze at all times, he knew all my angles. Bringing his mouth close to mine, holding it just a few millimeters before touching it, feeling his unnecessary breathing that I know he was doing it to increase the passion of the moment, he tells me: "I'm going to fuck you like this all the days I have left of my existence".

It wasn't smooth, it was all at once. But incredibly my body received it by adjusting to him, flexing and stretching just enough for its large large size. And once inside, my walls simply clung to it, clinging as if it were the direct source of life, which would provide them with nourishment to continue subsisting, as a vampire clings to the neck of its victim.

And with each thrust, my walls squeezed him even tighter, so much so that Eric let out moans, not of pain exactly, but he was feeling the pressure.

"Ahh, FUCK, Sookie, I won't hold out much longer...so tight, lover, just tight for me." He said to me as with one arm on one side he supported his weight and the other held me from behind, pulling me closer to him. We were joined, but it would never be enough. I was close to starting to cry from pleasure, because Eric was giving me no respite. He started increasing his reach and rhythm more and more. Suddenly, it felt like everything we were had fused — the bond, the blood, the light, the choice.

"Look at me," he rasped, voice shaking. And I did. I'll let him command me as he wishes. And the moment our eyes locked — the moment we moved as one — the world started to respond. The light grew brighter, pulsing with our rhythm. The chandelier above us moving, crystals trembling in waves of unseen energy. The very walls of the room creaked. The bond in my chest opened wide, flooding me with him. Every thrust was like a vow. Every gasp between us a promise sealed. And God, he didn't slow down. I held on to him grabbing his biceps with everything I had, nails clawing into his muscles, ring catching light like a spell. It gleamed with every motion — proof I was his, and he was mine.

His mouth went to my throat, and as if it were the most normal thing in our lives, a daily act of necessity, he sank his fangs in and drank my blood greedily. Encouraged by the wave of pleasure that washed over me at that moment, I reached for his shoulder, but he got there first and cut his wrist, bringing it close to my mouth. His blood, thick, dense, exquisitely chocolate-coated, or at least that's how it felt on my palate, entered my body, healing every little ailment, lifting my spirit to the heavens, strengthening each and every one of my bones, until it settled in its favorite position: on my sternum. From there, it directed my body as it pleased.

"Ahh, ERIC, what are you doing to me" I shouted. And then— We broke. Together. My name on his lips. His name in my soul. Our bodies collapsed into one searing wave of pleasure that felt like it shook the world. Light filled the room — not from magic, but from our very own bond. The kind of light that lives in complete trust, in ourselves, each other, us. If for a moment I thought that was the only thing for the day, I failed in my knowledge of Eric.

He led me into the bathroom by the hand, smiling mischievously at me, plotting something insane.

"Lover, let me bathe you, I'm not done with you yet" He said softly, as one of his fingers ran across my sweat damp breasts, forming deformed circles here and there, and his eyes staring into them, as if looking at the best food of the day.

We stepped into our shower, Viking-sized and perfectly shaped to do everything but shower. He took one of my sponges and started running it over every part of my body. I could have sworn this was the cleanest I've ever been. Eric didn't miss a tiny corner. He took the shampoo and washed my hair, or rather caressed it, in such a relaxing way, that for those seconds, I forgot I was standing and one of his hands took me by the waist pressing me to his body.

When I was ready, he grabbed my arms and with my back to the wall he lifted me up so that I hugged his waist with my legs. Instinct. Our bodies already knew how to work on their own. And here he was again. Slow this time.

"Eric, oh... ah... Eric" I managed to articulate, from my automatic repertoire, because again, my brain had gone on vacation.

"Lover," he breathed, "I love you so much." His mouth was at my throat. His flexed arms, one behind my back and the other on the shower wall perfectly marked each of his impeccable muscles, muscles of stone, frozen in time. And in that moment, I wondered what Eric must have looked like as a human, what those muscles must have looked like, pinker, with veins pulsing under the skin. I closed my eyes — and in the crackle of sensation, in the bond pulling taut between us, I was taken. Transported.

The bond pulsed once — fully open. A thread, gently tugged. My breath caught. The water vanished. So did the wall on my back, the shower, the curve of Eric's jaw where it brushed my shoulder.

Instead, the wind kissed my face — real wind, cool and wild, carrying the scent of pine and cold iron. My bare feet stood in grass, damp with morning dew. I turned slowly. I knew this place — not from memory, but from him. It was near a longhouse. Stark, timber-built, with a sloping roof of woven reeds. Behind it, forest stretched, vast and green and alive with birdsong. In the distance, the shimmer of water — a fjord or river, gleaming like a blade under the early light. And there — in the clearing just beyond the house — he stood. Eric. But not the vampire. He was shirtless, golden skin flushed with life and sweat, chest rising fast with exertion. His hair was longer, bound at the nape with leather. His body still towered, powerfully built — but not the marble-perfect stillness I knew. This Eric moved. He shifted his weight, flexed, breathed. Veins ran thick beneath his skin. He was beautiful in a way that broke me a little. Not cold or immortal. But alive. He held a sword in each hand — not the ceremonial kind. Real, forged iron. Blunt from use. The edge of one gleamed crimson from a nick to his hand. He moved with deadly grace, practicing against a carved post. His strikes were sharp and fast, hungry. Training for war. For something he expected not to survive.

Then he paused, chest heaving. His skin shone in the early light. Sweat traced the ridges of his back, muscles coiled from years of labor. And turned. His eyes met mine. Blue. But not the cold, glowing blue I was used to. These were human eyes — stormy and aware. And when he saw me, something flickered in them.

Recognition? Or memory?

His lips parted. "Fylgja?" he whispered, voice thick with an accent that barely survived the centuries.

He saw me. He thought I was— A guide. A spirit. Jesus, maybe I was. I took one step toward him, barefoot in the grass. The bond pulled tighter.

"This was his last day," something whispered across my mind, not a voice, but knowledge.

"Before the battle. Before the bear. Before death."

I wanted to run to him. To touch him. To warn him. But I couldn't move any farther. I could only watch as he turned back to his post, lifted his swords, and struck the air again — with more precision, more fire, like he was training for fate. I swear, I love him so much that if I could do anything to spare him what would come next, hundreds of years in the dark, alone, hurting, carrying many deaths on his shoulders, I would do it – even if it meant we would never meet. My Viking. Still unaware that death was coming with the setting sun. Still unaware that, centuries later, I would lie in his arms and see this. And love every version of him. Sweet Lord, how I love him. Even the young man who was about to be lost to blood and ash and fangs.

I opened my eyes. As if only seconds had passed, Eric was still inside me, me against the wall and him holding me. But he didn't move, his forehead resting on my chest. When he felt me, he lifted it and looked at me with red eyes, from tears.

"Fylgja…" He said, now the tears began to descend.

"Eric, I'm so sorry, I wanted to warn you, but I couldn't intervene, the bond wouldn't let me..." Now my tears were the ones running down my face. Eric was still crying, resting his forehead on my chest, not letting go of my body, keeping us together at all times. His crying was heartbroken. My heart was broken for him.

"Eric, baby, I swear, if I could have done ANYTHING to spare you that suffering, what was taken from you that day...I would have done it without hesitation." My hands now stroking his hair.

Eric looked up again. "You don't understand, lover...if you had done that, we wouldn't have met." His eyes puzzled at my offer.

"Baby, I love you so much, that I would have done it anyway just to see you happy."

"No, Sookie," he said, rising, still holding me as if he'd never let go. "You still don't understand. Every moment of my undead existence — every century of darkness, of silence, of blood, of loss — it was all worth it. Worth it for this. For holding you like this. For hearing you say you love me. I would trade a thousand human lifetimes... for one night with you."

I sighed with a smile, and he leaned closer to place a soft kiss in my mouth.

EPOV

The sunlight reached the floor just beyond the kitchen tiles, filtered through old curtains and reinforced glass. It didn't touch me. But I stood close to it. Closer than I should've. Just to feel the warmth in the air. Even though earlier this morning I didn't burn under the sunrise, I'm still not completely sure of this resistance. The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that followed something profound. She was eating — her body needed it. I could hear every soft clink of the fork against the bowl. Every swallow. I watched the curve of her spine as she leaned over the counter, the loose strands of hair falling around her face. Sookie.

And that ring on her finger — my ring — glowing faintly in the light. She wore it like it had always belonged to her.

I will always come back to you.

Gods, I would. Across lifetimes. Across time and death and blood. I would always return to her. Even now, with the heat of our bond still pulsing low in my bones, I couldn't find the words for what I'd seen. What she'd seen. What we'd been together, only moments ago.

She looked up at me with those storm-blue eyes and asked, "Eric… what is a fylgja?"

My throat tightened. Of all the questions in the world — of all the mysteries she could've chased — she went straight to the one that cracked my armor clean through. I took a breath. Not because I needed it — but because it helped hold back the tide inside me. "A spirit," I said quietly. "A soul-companion. In the old stories, everyone had one, though few ever saw theirs. It could take the form of an animal, or a person. Sometimes it warned you. Sometimes it walked beside you when fate was close."

Her brow furrowed. "Like… a guardian?"

"Not quite. A fylgja doesn't protect. It reveals. Who you are. What's to come. What must change."

I paused, watching her take that in. Watching her feel it.

"When I was human," I said, "mine was a bear. It came when storms were near. When death was on the wind. I told you last night." And I added "But today," stepping toward her, "I saw you."

Her breath caught.

"In the vision. In the field before I died. You were there. Watching. Glowing. You looked like a goddess carved from starlight, barefoot in the grass. You didn't speak — but I knew. You were… guiding me."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her hand went to the ring.

"You called me 'fylgja,'" she said, her voice barely audible.

I nodded once. And then — quietly — she whispered, "But I'm not a spirit."

"No," I told her. "You're everything but. But something in you reached across time and found me."

I paused, just watching her. The bond between us vibrated like a string strung between two worlds.

She had walked into my past. She had been my guide. And now I understood what I'd felt that morning — before my death, before the turning. That moment of peace in the presence of something radiant and real. She was never just my lover. She was always my fate.

The house was still, but it would not stay that way for long. Amelia had left a note to Sookie that she went to Bon Temps to buy coffee and sage. She will be back soon. Sookie sat near the Codex, legs folded beneath her, hair haloed around her shoulders like sunlight trapped in silk. I could feel the pulse of it — the book answering to her. Opening itself like a flower in bloom. She didn't speak, and I didn't interrupt.

I picked up my phone. Six messages from Pam, all between 2:13 a.m. and 5:42 a.m. — each one tighter than the last. I opened them in order, listening to the voice-to-text play out in my head with her usual sarcasm sharpened into steel.

2:13 a.m.

"We've arrived. Dallas is just as unbearable as usual, though thankfully, so is Bill. The King was waiting. No ceremony. He wants answers — and Joe gave enough to light the match."

2:44 a.m.

"Joe confessed. Direct links to Victor. Confirmed he's been passing information. He was leaking details about Sookie's movements."

3:20 a.m.

"King Stan is pissed. He says Victor's influence on Felipe may already be compromised. He's calling a state pre-trial inquiry tomorrow at midnight between Louisiana, Nevada, Texas and Mississippi."

4:17 a.m.

"Mississippi's envoy arrived unannounced — clearly suspicious. They've heard about the power fluctuations in Louisiana. King Stan said the only concern now is the extent of Victor's ruses that could be stirring up pre-war voices with forces we cannot sustain, committing resources and lives. You're welcome."

5:01 a.m.

"Joe is being held under lock. He won't leave the compound until Stan makes his move. You've bought yourself time, but not much."

5:42 a.m.

"Eric. They're going to ask why you didn't come yourself. Or send Sookie. Think fast. We need a counter-narrative ready before tomorrow night."

I let the phone fall to the counter with a dull thud. Joe. Joe, who I'd trusted with her safety — with her — had been Victor's pet all along. Watching her. Listening. Reporting. Feeding them whispers that could have burned everything we'd built. And now he would burn for it. But first — he would prove Victor's betrayal. And I would use him to make the first cut in a war that had already begun.

I set my phone down.

The messages from Pam hadn't surprised me — not really. Victor's ambition had always slithered just beneath the surface. But what I hadn't expected… was how deeply I hated the idea of taking Sookie back to that city.

I turned toward her. She sat cross-legged in front of the Codex, its pages still fluttering like it was breathing. Her face was calm, but her eyes were scanning fast — absorbing, decoding, connecting. Beautiful, brilliant.

The bond between us hummed, steady. Not loud, but anchored. Like her presence held me in place.

I took a few steps toward her and said quietly, "Sookie." She looked up immediately. I knelt beside her, resting a hand gently on her knee. "As soon as the sun sets… we leave."

Her expression shifted — not fear exactly, but wariness. "Where?"

"Dallas."

Her breath caught. "Again?"

I nodded.

"I'll explain everything," I said. "Pam and Bill delivered Joe to the King as proof of Victor's actions. They've triggered the inquiry against Victor — and the political tide is turning. But if we don't show up… if I don't stand before them with you beside me… they'll start spinning their own truths. The kind that kills. We're directing the concern to Victor's actions and the fear of him starting an unnecessary war, not you."

Sookie looked down at the Codex, then back to me.

"It's just," she said softly, "last time… was awful."

I nodded. "I know."

She didn't need to say more. We both remembered it — the betrayals, the church, Godric.

"I wasn't honest with you then," I said. My voice came rougher than I meant. "I played too many games. I did too many things. You were in danger, and I acted like I could control everything. I couldn't."

Sookie reached for my hand. I looked at her — really looked — and added, "But this time… I want you with me. Not because you're a tool. Not because of what you can do. But because you're my equal. My partner. And because I trust you more than I trust anyone in that fucking room."

Her eyes shimmered. "You're asking me to walk into vampire court politics at sundown?"

"I am. As my bonded. My wife"

"Wearing this ring?"

I gave her a half-smile. "I was hoping that part might sweeten the deal."

She leaned forward, rested her forehead against mine, and whispered, "And you will wear my favorite tight pink lycra pants?"

"Only if you use my last name," I gave her a quick kiss.

SPOV

I stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at my open suitcase like it might pack itself if I stared hard enough. It didn't.

"Okay," I muttered. "Dallas. Vampire court. Bring your calm shoes, Stackhouse."

The last time I'd gone to Dallas, it had nearly killed me. This time, I wasn't walking in blind. This time, Eric wasn't hiding the map. I laid out clothes with care — black slacks, soft silk tops, a cardigan charmed with mild glamour to hide the faint shimmer of fae light that still clung to my skin. Nothing too flashy. Nothing that screamed "magic bombshell with a god-knife in her blood." Just enough to say: I belong at your table. And I don't kneel. I'm the fucking wife of a Vampire Sheriff.

Next: weapons. I still have a tiny gun with me. Princess-size. Charged with silver bullets. Although I did pack one of Amelia's anti-binding amulets, just in case. I'd learned enough to know vampires didn't always play clean. And then there was the Codex. Still resting on the floor where I'd left it, closed now, but faintly warm — like a heartbeat behind stone. It had given me what it wanted for the day, but I could feel it humming under the wards. Restless. I knelt beside it. "You need to stay put, okay? Don't glow. Don't pulse. Don't explode." I laid a hand on the cover and whispered the fae charm Claudine had once taught me — a soft veil spell, just enough to make it invisible and mute its energy signature. The runes on the spine blinked once, then vanished. The book shimmered… and was gone. I smiled faintly. "Good girl."

I left a note for Amelia on the kitchen counter, next to her favorite mug.

Ames —  Heading to Dallas with Eric. Vampire court business — political, not apocalyptic  (yet). If you hear anything about Niall or Claudine, call me immediately. Codex is  safe. Don't poke the wards.  Love you. Don't die.  —S

I stared at the note for a moment. Then added a postscript:

P.S. I put oat milk in the back of the fridge. It's probably cursed. Use with  caution.

Eric was restless, shirtless, barefoot, pacing near the hallway like the day wouldn't let him sleep. I didn't blame him. I could feel it too: a shift in the current. Like the world was holding its breath. Tonight, we weren't just traveling to Dallas. We were walking into a war. Only this time, I'm wearing ancient and vibrant magic and a ring on high heels.

A/N: Feedback and reviews are LOVE! And in this profile, we love love.

In Norse mythology, a fylgja (Old Norse: [ˈfylɡjɑ], plural fylgjur) is a supernatural being or spirit which accompanies a person in connection to their fate or fortune. They can appear to people in their sleep as dream-women, or appear while awake, often in the disembodied spiritual form of an enemy.

The fylgja is a ghost who associates with (or, for a lack of better word, stalks or shadows) a particular individual, and may be characterized as a "guardian spirit". However, contrary to its name meaning 'follower', it generally moves ahead of its host, making a kind of "contact" with the person before they arrive at some key spot. The fylgja will, however, follow a person when they are near death.

The fylgja is said to take on either an animal form or a female human form, and this is due to a conflation of two distinct types of spirits, according to Else Mundal; the term fylgja, was first associated with the animal spirit, then later applied to the woman-spirit type.

The rune ᛏ, often referred to as Tiwaz or Tyr, is a symbol from the Elder Futhark runic alphabet. It represents the letter "t" and is named after the Norse god Tyr, the god of justice, law, and heroic glory. The rune embodies qualities like courage, sacrifice, and unwavering dedication to higher ideals.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Dallas, Old Friend

—EPOV—

The private terminal smelled like glass cleaner and cold steel. Just shadows stretching across polished tile and the distant hum of jet engines. Pam stood near the far exit, arms crossed, lips pursed. Her heels clicked softly as she approached, coat flaring behind her like a cape. She looked perfect. Unruffled. But I knew her too well. Her eyes were too still.

I stepped ahead of Sookie by a few paces and met Pam halfway. She didn't bow. But her voice dropped low. "We need to talk. Alone. Now." I nodded once, then turned to Sookie, who was adjusting the strap of her overnight bag. "Go wait by the car, lover. I'll be there in a moment." She glanced at Pam, then me. Her brows twitched, sensing the tension — but she nodded and walked toward the black SUV waiting under the porte-cochère.

The second she was out of earshot, Pam pressed close.

"Joe cracked wider than I told Stan," she said. "Bill and I threatened to deliver him to the Mississippi envoy if he didn't talk. He panicked."

"And?" I said. My voice was quieter than hers — and much colder.

"He said Victor's been obsessed with Sookie for longer than we thought. He started sniffing around when he knew about your bond with her. His curiosity about a thousand-year-old Viking tying himself to a telepathic human seemed to have won him over. Joe said he thought it was just political curiosity — until Victor started sending him to collect things. In order to make it easier, Joe was ordered to infiltrate as Sookie's bodyguard. Victor knew that Joe had already provided services for you in the past and in truth, it is not that uncommon to share security among some of the sheriffs in the area. Victor simply offered him more than you were paying him" She rolled her eyes.

My hands curled into fists. "What kind of things?"

"Hair. A torn blouse. A button that still smelled like her. Little things he could easily access in the morning hours when Sookie was still asleep, without you by his side. Victor told him it was for 'research'".

Something low and primitive stirred in me — the predator, the protector, the bonded.

"Pam, what the fuck was he doing with those things?"

"That's the part Joe couldn't understand. Victor was quiet about it, paranoid. But he let one thing slip. Said he was meeting someone in New Orleans — a practitioner. Not witches like Amelia. Dirtier. The kind that bury bones with names still on them." I breathed out slowly. "Dark magic." She nodded. "He said Victor was trying to sever the bond. That he wanted Sookie. Bad. And he thought if the connection was broken, she'd be vulnerable. Open."

"To what?"

"To him."

There was silence. It throbbed like pressure before a storm.

"Joe didn't know the rest. But he thinks — and this is just instinct, not proof — that Victor's involvement with those practitioners might've gone deeper. That it opened some door he didn't know how to close. He's terrified of something else now."

My voice was a growl. "What did he say?" Pam looked up at me — and for once, her wit was gone. "He said… 'I think Victor called something. I think it followed us back.'"

I turned and looked at the SUV. Sookie was inside. Looking out the window. Pale and still. Even with her impatient gaze, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, I needed to protect her from any approaching danger. My fangs itched. Not from hunger. From rage. Just to think of the various scenarios where my beloved could end in an agonizing breath, life slipping from her bright eyes.

I straightened my coat and started toward the car. "We keep Sookie safe. We keep her close. And we bring Victor down quietly."

Pam smirked faintly. "I already have the dress for his funeral."

—SPOV—

The road to the King of Texas' mansion was silent, Eric took my hand in his and just stared out the window, lost in thought. I knew there was something he wasn't telling me... God, why did we come back to this? I thought we had come to an understanding of what our relationship would be like from now on. Our bond was stronger than ever, why was it so hard for him to include me in these entanglements if they always end up being about me? I would soon be his official wife, for God's sake.

The last time I stepped foot in Dallas, someone tried to kill me. So this time, I wore black – as if I'm ready for my own funeral?– soft, clean lines, nothing flashy. I wanted to blend, not broadcast. But with Eric on my arm and a court of vampires turning to stare, blending was off the table.

The court of King Stan Davis was already buzzing by the time we entered the lower gallery — even without Felipe and Victor. And that alone put me in alert mode.

Stan, as soon as Pam and Bill have appeared yesterday in his court and the emissary from Mississippi showed up a few hours later, issued an order for a pre-trial between the southern states, centred on Louisiana (and Nevada), Texas and Mississippi to assess the charges against Victor, the second in command of Felipe De Castro and Sheriff of Area 1 (New Orleans). Only, when we arrived, neither Victor nor Felipe were there.

The charges were clear: Victor has been using area resources to engage in black magic and endanger the Vampire community in the southern states by setting fire to long-extinguished matches that the vampires cannot cope with.

Of course, the role I was playing here is that all of this was discovered after one of my guards was caught playing double agent under Victor's orders and spying on my life, the bonded of a vampire Sheriff of the State of Louisiana.

Why Victor was spying on another Sheriff's partner, especially if she was his bonded, under official ceremony and recognized by all. No, no...Why Victor was using state resources to spy on the wife of a thousand year old Viking vampire who could easily ask for his final death just for that. Obviously, Eric would not ask for his final death, at least not right away, she knew he was more cautious and strategic than that. Victor was a close friend and second in command to Felipe, it would take much more than this.

Eric stood tall beside me, his expression carved from stone. But I felt him through the bond, coiled and calculating. He didn't like not knowing where Victor was. And he sure as hell didn't like the silence from Felipe de Castro. They both were supposed to be here by midnight.

We were ushered into the north wing — an old space retrofitted with modern glamour. Vaulted ceilings, red marble pillars, thick shadows between candle sconces. Vampires liked their drama.

At the center was the council circle — not a throne, but a wide dais where the ruling monarchs or envoys would sit. King Stan was already there, seated with one leg crossed, the sleek sharpness of his aura unmistakable. He stood as we entered. "Sheriff Northman," he said. "Miss Stackhouse… or should I say Mrs. Northman?" He asked, glancing at my huge ring on my left hand – nothing like going unnoticed. "Thank you for your swift arrival." He finished.

"Your Grace," Eric said with a slight bow. No mockery. Just respect, carefully measured. I gave a polite nod. I wasn't expected to speak, at least not yet. Not until someone either asked or accused.

Stan gestured toward the open floor. "We've read the documents from your progeny and Compton. I have reviewed the statements from Joe Kennard…" He paused. "But there's still one piece I find vague. The source of the magic Victor is said to be tampering with. And the suggestion that enemies — ancient ones — that 'may be coming for us'?"

The words felt like a breeze over a cracked mirror. Nothing visibly shattered, but something inside me flinched. Eric kept his voice calm. "What we uncovered was evidence of Victor siphoning magical resources through third parties. Paying New Orleans dark magic practitioners to interact with dormant nodes of power. Power that, believe me, Stan, we do not want near any of us".

"Eric, Eric… you know how I distaste these situations" He exclaimed with a whining sigh. "What is your interest in these claims?" He continued.

"My own bonded has been a victim of Victor's ridiculousness. I don't know what motivates him, but besides being using resources in dark magic, risking all our skins to forces we can't cope with at the moment, I find he sends spies to watch my bonded day and night, even going so far as to lunge at her privacy. You well know that in our laws, this must not be allowed." He responded. "But also, you are aware that Victor is Felipe's second in command, you will understand my difficulty in making this case in front of the court of the King of Nevada and Louisiana."

"And you're here, with the King of Texas, making a case against your own King? Wasn't your bonded under the official protection of Felipe and his retinue?" He inquired Eric, raising an eyebrow.

"In no way do I intend to turn these statements into accusations against my King Felipe. I have no complaints or comments regarding his leadership of our kingdom. I make it clear that my only reason for my presence here today is my concern for the misuse of resources of one of the largest states in the south by the hands of one of the Sheriffs, our exposure to possible magical wars and the safety of my bonded. Since Philip effectively conferred real and formal protection to Sookie and Sookie living in my area, that protection in practice was delegated to me." He replied, lowering his head — slightly, but enough. Not a sign of defeat, but of complicated honor. He felt… embarrassed? Or was it pride wounded by necessity? Not a typical Eric emotion, but then again, this week had shattered many patterns.

Then the door opened. A secretary swept in — a pale woman with no scent. She carried a sealed message and approached Stan without a word. He broke the wax. Read silently. Then folded it again and looked up.

"Felipe de Castro has responded. He will arrive before dawn. With escort."

The room buzzed.

"And Victor Madden?" Eric asked. Stan's voice darkened. "Nothing yet." And shook a hand at his secretary to send her off.

A silence fell — not passive, but sharp, like the moment before lightning. I felt Eric's stillness beside me deepen. The bond pulsed once. Something wasn't right.

Stan's voice cut through the tension again. "The court will reconvene as soon as Felipe arrives. All parties will be required to attend. This will be held in accordance with the… southern traditions of Vampire Law. Formal process. Open record. All titles acknowledged. All debts named. You know the drill" Stan never felt comfortable with the politics and traditions. He was, by far, one of the most casual vampire kings I had ever met. But it didn't mean he broke laws or flouted traditions.

The room Stan offered us was the quietest part of the estate — or so his assistant claimed when she ushered us down the marble corridor. But the moment the heavy oak door shut behind us, I could feel the tension. Pam and Bill both had their rooms, but they followed close behind, because we were just waiting a few hours before we had to get back in court. They didn't speak, just moved to opposite corners like elegant gargoyles waiting for instruction.

Eric walked to the far window, his back to the room, hands braced on the sill like he was trying to keep the whole damn house from collapsing. I'd had enough.

"You need to tell me what the fuck is going on," I said, planting myself in the middle of the room. "Now. Because I'm feeling you like a goddamn lightning rod and I've had it."

Bill shifted in the corner. Pam arched a brow but didn't move. Eric still didn't turn around.

"I mean it, Eric." My voice cracked. "I know you're trying to protect me. But this isn't just politics anymore. This is about me. You feel like a fucking hurricane inside my chest, and I'm standing here in the eye of it, blindfolded."

His shoulders rose with an inhale — unnecessary for a vampire, which meant it was for me. He turned. His eyes were dark, not with hunger, but with something far more dangerous. Grief. Rage. Fear. He didn't speak. He stalked to me — slow, deliberate — and when he was close enough, he reached out and placed a hand flat against my chest.

"You feel that?" he whispered. I nodded, breath caught. "That's not the fucking bond," he said. "That's me, trying to hold back the part of me that wants to destroy every creature who's ever looked at you like you were prey."

I stared at him. "Victor." He nodded. Once.

Pam finally broke the silence. "Joe confessed more than we expected. Victor's obsession with you wasn't just curiosity. He was gathering small things from your house — for magic. Dark magic."

Eric's jaw tightened. "There's more."

Bill stepped forward now, arms crossed. "Victor wasn't just playing sorcerer. He was dealing with the kind of practitioners who make Amelia look like a tea-leaf reader. He's trying to unravel your bond."

I felt it again. That pressure behind my sternum. Like the bond itself heard and recoiled. Eric's voice was low. "He thinks if the bond breaks, he can take you."

I blinked. "Take me?"

"He wants to claim you," Pam said, bored and furious at once. "Like a goddamn trophy. Or a power source."

Eric took both my hands. "But he doesn't understand the bond. He doesn't understand you."

"And what does he understand?" I asked, voice shaking.

Eric hesitated, "He made contact with something old. Something connected to the Unseelie Court. I don't think he realizes what he's unleashed."

The room tilted under me. "The Unseelie? Those are—"

"The enemies of Niall," Pam said. "And by extension, you."

I stared at all of them. "So Victor tries to get to me… fucks around with dark fae magic… and now we're all just waiting for the sky to fall? Jesus Shepherd of Judea."

"No," Eric said. "Now we wait until Felipe shows up, and we make our move."

"And what is the fucking move Eric!" I shouted as if in a tantrum, I was losing my patience. If I wanted to strategize and play war, they had better include me.

Eric made a motion to Pam and Bill to leave us alone and turned to me as they closed the door.

"I've been feeling kind of weird..." I began, and three pairs of vampire eyes were on me. "The bond has been tugging at me more than usual, I mean... for several days now, I haven't felt it like this before, it's like a constant urge," I touched my chest with one hand and scratched over my sternum. "If you tell me he went to black magic practitioners to break the bond, it makes sense to me... I know there are spells, even the ones Amelia handles, to detach blood ties between species, the one most used, obviously, is the human/vampire one, when the human doesn't want to be tied to the vampire in question anymore" I sighed loudly, they were listening to me attentively without interrupting me, for the first time? I had to take advantage of it. "Maybe... our bond is already being threatened, Eric, without us noticing, maybe it is so strong that one spell is not enough... maybe, that is what we have noticed in the house and gardens, our bond trying to warn us and put us on alert that someone or something is trying to break it" I said finally, swallowing hard.

Eric was holding my hands as he analyzed my words and tried to make them fit with any other information he had. "Sookie, I promise you, I won't let anything break our bond or set us apart" He said, but I knew better. It's not that I didn't trust him, it's just that when magic is involved a thousand years of war experience isn't enough. I smiled at his words, I know he had the best of intentions, but when magic related… "I need to call Amelia, and Claudine…" I said hastily and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Because if Victor was calling down something ancient… I needed someone to answer back.

—EPOV—

I left her by the bed, fingers still brushing her phone, lips drawn in thought. I could feel her — the hum of her worry beneath my ribs, the bright, raw thrum of her magic trying to reach something just out of range. She didn't look at me as I stepped away. But I knew she felt it. The small empty space I left behind. I closed the door softly.

Pam and Bill were in the hall — both waiting like statues carved from two very different tempers. Pam arched an eyebrow the second she saw me. Bill didn't speak, but I felt the weight in his stare.

"She's calling Amelia," I said. Pam tilted her head. "Good. We'll need her." Bill's arms were crossed. "And Claudine?"

"Unreachable," I muttered. "For now."

We stood in silence for a moment. The mansion creaked around us — old bones dressed in marble. The weight of courts, kings, and old promises pressing in from every wall.

"She's right," I said finally, voice low. "The bond is reacting. It's not just magic. It's warning us."

Bill nodded, quiet. Pam's eyes flicked toward the shut door behind me.

"If Victor comes for her," she said, "we don't wait for trials." I looked at her. Let her see what was already true.

"No," I said. "We put our plan into motion". I folded my arms as I leaned against the cold stone wall, the weight of a thousand nights of war settling onto my shoulders. "We can't kill him," I said flatly. "Not unless Felipe denounces him first. Otherwise, it's high treason"

Bill grunted. "And if Felipe never denounces him?"

"Then we build a case so watertight it forces him to choose: Victor, or his crown."

Pam flicked imaginary lint off her lapel. "Victor's already off the rails. Once we expose the practitioners, the Unseelie link, the misuse of state resources, it won't matter how high up he is. He's fire with no leash. And kings hate loose flames."

"But the magic," I said. "It's still active. Something's moving in it. Stirring."

Pam's mouth thinned. "Then we find the fucking witches. We stop the ritual. We end the spell. If Sookie's right—"

And suddenly, a pain like a spear of silver drove through my chest. I gasped. My knees buckled. A deep, ripping burn spiraled from my sternum outward like a sun going supernova. The bond.

"Eric?" Pam had stopped what she was saying and was instantly worried.

"Fuck. Something's—" I hissed. "—wrong."

Bill's face changed. Pale as marble. "Sookie."

We moved in a blur, throwing open the bedroom door. The scent of her blood hit us like a wave.

Sookie staggered upright on the bed... until her feet no longer touched the ground, her eyes wide and unfocused. Blood slid from one nostril, glistening against her upper lip. Her hand was still outstretched, the phone buzzing faintly beside her. She was glowing. Glowing.

"Sookie! SOOKIE—ARE YOU OK?!" Amelia's voice shouted from the speaker, tinny and desperate. Pam snatched the phone and barked into it. "Talk. Fast."

"She told me about this black magic in New Orleans– I'm from the area, I know the people who are into those practices and I also know that there are very powerful spells for severing ties made with blood; I've never known of a bond breaking, let alone between vampire and a part Fae, with all the magic Sookie has... but if there are places where you can try something like that, New Orleans is definitely it." Of course, I could hear everything she was saying to Pam.

I was already kneeling beside Sookie, even as the agony grew worse. Blood trickled from my ears now, and my vision was beginning to haze red. She was shivering — no, burning — her skin too hot to touch, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

I had never been more in awe of her.

She rose to her feet, staggering at first, then steadying like someone possessed by something divine. Her palms blazed with light. Light. Pure and searing. The kind that knows your name even when you've forgotten it yourself. There she was, proving again that she was the really strong one in our relationship. This was not the place for all this to happen. I motioned for Bill to secure the bedroom and put towels in the space between the floor and the door, not that that would do any good for sound insulation to vampires, but still… something had to be done.

"WHERE ARE YOU!" She screamed, voice shaking the walls. "I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" The room trembled. One of the sconces cracked, flame flickering sideways. The bond inside me was screaming now — a soundless howl of pain and resistance. My blood was pouring out faster, a steady drip from my nose, the corners of my mouth.

Bill backed toward the wall, visibly shaken. Pam crouched at my side, trying to brace me. But I couldn't look away from her. She was spinning, light bursting from her hands in arcs, her hair lifting like wind moved through it though the air was still.

"YOU WON'T MAKE IT. I'M STRONGER," She roared. My eyes in disbelief at that magnificently powerful and beautiful and magical creature, I fell to the floor, as the pain continued to consume me. I was getting weaker, and I was supposed to protect her.

Sookie wasn't Sookie. Her palms were glowing with an incandescent light, as she closed her eyes...I could tell she was bleeding more now. I needed to help her, to hold her, but my body was making me lose the battle.

"YOU CAN'T BREAK IT!" She screamed, as her hands both burned with light that could blind an ordinary human. And her words echoed inside my chest, shaking me.

"YOU CAN'T BREAK IT WITHOUT BREAKING ME" She kept saying something to whatever thing none of us could see or perceive, apparently only her. Another echo inside me shook me harder this time.

Then her eyes snapped upward — to the top corner of the wall near the ceiling. Her pupils dilated. She had seen something.

"SHE SEES IT," Pam muttered. "Whatever it is."

Sookie raised her hands. Clasped them. And fired in that direction with all the energy she could. I was still losing blood with every second. Pam offered me her wrist, but I waved her off.

A patch of black, like living tar, clinging to the wall — writhing, pulsing, retreating. It sizzled and shrieked under the power of her strike, like it was being exorcised from the stone itself.

"YOU CANNOT BREAK WHAT LOVE CREATED" Sookie said, her voice a cathedral bell, echoing in all our bones. With her eyes full of fury, consumed by a simile of the bloodlust we vampires feel.

Another blast. My part of the bond made a bubbling sound.

"YOU CANNOT DAMAGE WHAT THE LIGHT PROTECTS" Tears and blood streamed down her face now. Her knees buckled — but she stayed up, floating now, no longer tethered by gravity. My part of the bond, my blood, now growling, pushing against my chest.

Then, through a sob, a final scream:

"YOU CANNOT... DESTROY... WHAT MY BLOOD SEALED. YOU CAN'T AGAINST ME. GET OUT OF HERE. I'M STRONGER" She brought her hands down, sent the final strike — red-gold like the sun rising over war — and the blackness exploded, vanishing into ash and light.

The entire room shook. The ceiling creaked and the black spot went up in flames.

"I'm stronger..." Sookie said in sighs, closing her eyes, crumpling to the ground, hands trembling, body soaked in sweat and blood. Bill caught her just in time.

I had felt all the power and magic of Sookie in its full glory, and I can say that in my more than a thousand years of life as a human and vampire, I have never felt anything more powerful than the silver that knocked me to the ground.

I crawled toward her, my vision tunneling, pain still dragging me near into unconsciousness. Still, I reached for her hand. She was alive. She was here.

"Amelia," Pam said into the phone, breathless, "What do you know about fucking black stains on the wall?"

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Keep them coming please, it helps me a lot to know if you're enjoying this plot.

Chapter Text

A/N: I finally managed to break through my writer's block. It's not a very action-packed chapter, but rather one that sets the stage for what's to come. Our Sookie is very strong. Stronger than ever.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from SVM. They belong exclusively to Charlaine Harris. I'm just borrowing them to play around a little.

EPOV

Magic lingered in the room like a foul aftertaste, nothing like the sweet electricity I'd come to associate with Sookie's power. This was something corrupt—an intruder that had forced its way through barriers meant to keep us safe.

I sat down on the bed next to her, taking her hands in mine. The chill of her fingers alarmed me, though the steady rhythm of her pulse offered some reassurance.

The evidence of our struggle had been erased—Pam had scrubbed away the blood and Victor's magical ashy remnants. Bill stood sentinel at the doorway, his face carved from stone.

Sookie's sleep was troubled. Her jaw worked against unseen threats, and that telltale glow still pulsed beneath her skin. I kept my palm against hers, monitoring our connection. Not the vibrant bond we'd built, but something fragile that needed protection.

She required my strength now. I gave it willingly, despite the hollow ache spreading through my body. The clock read 1:45 a.m. Felipe would be here within the hour.

"Amelia's transportation has been arranged," Pam said from the doorway. I acknowledged her with a nod.

As Sookie stirred, her breath catching like a drowning soul gasping for air, I felt an undeniable pull to her, leaning in closer with tender fingers brushing away strands of hair from her clammy forehead.

"My love," I uttered hoarsely, my voice strained with raw emotion as I met her haunted gaze. Her weary eyes fluttered open, heavy with the weight of memories of the shattered, bleeding version of myself she had tried in vain to rescue.

"It's alright," I murmured softly before she could speak. "Pam fed me. I am healing now." It was my turn to mend her wounds, to be her solace.

She drew in a shaky breath, her voice laced with exhaustion and fear. "You were wounded."

I swallowed hard, willing away the lump that threatened to choke me. "You were engulfed in flames—literally," I replied with a faint, crooked smile. We locked gazes, both battered and charged like turbulent storm clouds.

"I sensed something tearing at me," she whispered, her words filled with a mixture of dread and despair. "From within, ripping our connection apart."

In a moment of vulnerability, I confessed, feeling each word cut deep into my soul. "It would have broken me entirely if you hadn't destroyed it completely."

Her hands twisted the ring on her finger, the metal digging into her skin. "Have we succeeded? Is it over?"

Tenderly, I held her hand in mine. "No, lover. We have merely bought some time."

Pam's gentle voice floated in. "He will be here in forty-five minutes. Amelia is already en route."

I didn't break our gaze. "Good."

Sookie lifted herself up, her face drained but filled with an unyielding spirit. "You're still in pain."

"I am healing."

Her lower lip quivered. "I hate seeing you in this state."

I caressed her wrist, feeling the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my touch. "As do I. But I would bear a thousand wounds to ensure you remain by my side."

Her breath hitched. "Something is coming for me, isn't it?"

"For both of us, it seems."

We held onto the silence, the air heavy with the intensity of her pulsating power.

"Eric," her voice barely above a whisper trembled with fear, "what if they succeed next time?"

I held her gaze—this fierce, luminous woman who wields light as her birthright. "Then we make sure there is no next time."

A determination burned in her eyes as she straightened. "I want to fight."

"You already did, Sookie."

Shaking her head, she declared fiercely, "No. I need to know how the bond works. I want to strengthen it. Teach me."

Leaning in, our foreheads touching, I spoke with unwavering resolve, "First, you must drink my blood. It's the only way to speed your healing." She nodded in understanding. I opened a cut on my wrist, and warm blood flowed between us. Pam and Bill edged closer, the weight of what we survived evident in their shaken expressions.

"When Felipe arrives, he speaks first," I commanded, my voice carrying the weight of steel beneath its strain. "Summoning him is an insult—if he tries to excuse Victor's absence, we respond with facts, not threats. Not yet."

Sookie latched onto my wound, her eyes fluttering as my lifeblood surged through her veins. Each drop brought a pleasure that reverberated like a reckoning within me.

Pam crossed her arms, questioning, "And if Victor shows?"

My fingers traced the healing path on Sookie's cheek, bruises fading beneath the grace of my blood. "I doubt he comes. But if he does, you know our formation." A glance at Pam conveyed an unspoken order: protect her—always.

The wound sealed, and I brushed my finger along Sookie's jaw. With renewed energy pulsing through her, she rose, prepared to master the black magic that once consumed her with instinct, now driven by fury and purpose.

SPOV

The memory of his blood lingered on my tongue, tasting wild and ancient, like a thunderstorm molded into liquid chocolate. It was soothing, more intent on healing me than I ever could have desired for myself. My chest released its grip, the aching diminished. The hum in my bones fell silent. In my ears, my heartbeat's rhythm came back strong and sure.

Eric touched my cheek again, and I leaned into his touch. He was still pale, still in pain—I could sense it—but our bond seemed refortified. No longer fragile thread but steel wire; taut, singing between us. Unyielding.

Pam and Bill approached with an uncommon quietness—absent were Pam's smirks or sarcastic jabs. Her typical aura of cynicism gone completely, she observed me with something bordering reverence; as though seeing the real me for the first time. Bill stood poised yet visibly uncertain: eyes wide, lips slightly parted as if trying to decide whether to speak or kneel before me in awe. They both merely bore witness to a side of myself newly illuminated even for me.

"Stop looking at me like I'm about to blow us all sky-high," I muttered.

Pam chuckled softly. "You are a bombshell, Fairy—we just didn't realize you had your own detonator."

"I didn't know either," I admitted candidly. "It wasn't magic—it felt like…" Words evaded me momentarily before they spilled out: "Survival... Like losing Eric would tear away that connection and something inside me jolted awake."

Without words, Eric lifted my hand to kiss my knuckles gently—a gesture full of respect—and let his thumb circle over the ruby set into the ring on my finger; that deceptively delicate band of gold glowing warm under candlelight's embrace held inscribed promise within: I will always come back to you.

That was what our bond meant—fighting relentlessly to return home against all odds. Exhaling shakily, whispers of relief drifted from deep within my soul.

"I'm scared."

Eric gave a single nod. "Good. That means you're finally thinking clearly."

I gazed up at him, his face etched with pain and something deeper. "You said we'd begin tonight."

"We will. We observe. We listen." He leaned in closer. "Let them reveal their game."

Pam clicked her tongue. "Felipe's no fool. He knows coming here tonight puts him at risk."

A shiver that had nothing to do with magic ran through me. I glanced at the darkened window. It was just 2 a.m. Now we had minutes, not hours.

"I should change," I quietly said. "I can't show up in bloodstained clothes." Eric nearly smiled. "You'll still outshine them all."

Pam rolled her eyes. Bill shifted uncomfortably at the affectionate exchange between Eric and me.

I looked down at my hands. They were clean now. No glow, no burns. But I could still feel it beneath the skin, like a second heartbeat.

"I'm not afraid of Felipe," I said. "I'm scared of what could come next." Eric gently tucked my hair behind my ear, as soft as a breath. "I won't let anyone touch you, lover."

Pam sighed. "If you two are done with the poetry, we need to coordinate. Secure the perimeter. Get ready."

Bill nodded curtly. "I'll talk to the Mississippi envoy. Discreetly. If we can get their support, Felipe will have to listen."

Eric looked back at me. "You get ready. Carefully. I'll be right outside."

I nodded, my legs finally steady as I stood. My body remembered how to move, and my soul was already aligned. I would use fear as a driving force. Whatever entered through that door tonight—be it king, traitor, or dark magic creature with black claws and burning eyes—would learn the truth: I wasn't prey. I was a fuckin' force of nature.

The grand hall had changed. Not in shape — the red marble pillars still rose like ancient guardians, and the high ceilings still arched in somber silence — but in weight. The air was thicker now. Eric stood to my left, dressed in black-on-black. Nothing shiny. Nothing ornamental. His usual outfit. But he radiated command, like a blade in a sheath.

I wore something Amelia had charmed a few weeks back — dark navy silk that shimmered like water when I moved. A high collar, long sleeves. It was simple, elegant… and enchanted. The fabric was spelled to soften hostile magic. I didn't know if it would do much against what had tried to rip me apart an hour ago, but it made me feel like less of a target.

Bill and Pam flanked us, one step behind, like matching daggers.

Stan was already seated on the council dais, upright and unnervingly quiet for a man who usually couldn't sit through a five-minute conversation without a sarcastic sigh. He gave Eric a nod. Nothing else.

At some point, Stan had called Tennessee, who had sent its own emissary to attend the pre-trial council. A pre-trial was a kind of assessment of events to determine any immediate measures to be taken to avoid going to trial. It was more of a warning and did not require the presence of the kings and queens themselves. The envoy from Mississippi sat in shadow — a slender man with ink-dark hair and eyes that gleamed like obsidian. He hadn't spoken a word since we arrived.

And then… the doors opened. Two guards entered first, announcing nothing. Just clearing the path.

Felipe de Castro appeared. He wore a deep crimson jacket, cut like velvet armor. Not showy. Just sharp enough to remind you he ruled by choice, not inheritance. His smile was the same — practiced and polished. The smile of a man who knew he didn't have to prove anything, because the room already belonged to him.

Except it didn't. Not tonight. He stopped on the dais. Took his time. Let the silence stretch, until even the candles seemed to flicker nervously.

Finally, Stan spoke. "Felipe. Welcome to Texas."

Felipe smiled. "It's always a pleasure, Stan" His voice was syrup and threat. "I apologize for the delay. My travel arrangements encountered… difficulties." He said as he took his seat.

Eric's jaw tightened beside me. He hadn't brought Victor. I could feel Eric thinking it, weighing it, waiting for the other shoe.

"I assume," Felipe continued smoothly, "we're here to discuss accusations against one of my Sheriffs, Victor Madden."

Stan didn't smile. "We are. As you've read, there are concerns regarding misuse of state resources, invocation of unsanctioned magical practices, and potential endangerment of supernatural treaties."

Felipe lifted a brow. "Those are… dramatic charges." He turned his head slowly toward us. "Ah. Sheriff Northman. And Miss Stackhouse. Or… has that changed?" He gestured toward my hand — the ruby ring now glinting under candlelight. "You've summoned me to Texas," Felipe said smoothly. "On the word of a traitor and the whispers of old magic. That is a dangerous precedent."

Eric bowed before his King, "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I did not summon you. The King of Texas did — after hearing evidence from multiple parties."

"Parties mobilized by you" Felipe countered.

Eric waited a beat. One. Two. Then said, still with a slight bow, "The accusations are specific. We are not here to discuss loyalty, My King. We are here to present proof that Victor Madden acted alone — and recklessly — against the interests of this court and every southern domain."

Felipe's gaze sharpened. "Victor is not present to defend himself."

Stan intervened. "Even though he was summoned. Where is he?"

"Missing" Felipe didn't blink.

"Ah well, but his King is here…Shall we begin then? So we can finish before sunrise" Stan was impatient.

A secretary came forward with the compiled documents — Joe's confession, Bill and Pam's statements and surveillance reports, and a copy of the contract that made Joe a personal security detail… under Victor's orders.

Eric explained every important detail that he was asked, but let the facts speak for themselves: What Victor had done. Where he'd been. The payments made. The resources diverted. And that now Victor apparently had disappeared without informing his King.

When Pam took her turn, she didn't make jokes. She was curt and deadly. Bill spoke with slow, Southern gravity, delivering the details without flourish. Joe followed, who, in his pitiful state, confessed everything he knew, without mentioning me. I was grateful to him for that, but I knew better than his real motivation was probably only related to staying alive after this.

When the pre-trial finally paused for deliberation, everyone sat down on chairs arranged around a table. We remained standing in front, but gave enough space for the council to deliberate in privacy.

Felipe leaned back in his chair, fingers intertwined, his face giving nothing away. But I noticed it, and so did Eric. He was shaken, not because of the accusations, but because his grip on control had slipped without him realizing it.

As the council, composed by Stan and the two emissaries were ready to share their assessment, the emissary from Mississippi broke the silence, settling into his chair, "Mississippi will not tolerate inaction".

Stan offered no reply. He merely released a measured breath through his nostrils played with his fingers and finally said, "Felipe, we believe that the accusations are sufficient to require you to discipline your Sheriff before he jeopardizes the stability of the southern states.

"We stayed out of your dethroning of Sophie-Anne, but if your reign and your retinue intend to bring misery to our territories, we will be forced to intervene."

"Is that a threat?" Felipe raised his voice.

"No," Stan said calmly. "It's a decision." He continued. "You should be grateful to Sheriff Northman for bringing this to light before it escalated further. He has shown impeccable loyalty to you, even though he himself is in a difficult position."

Felipe grunted and glanced sideways at Eric. He was not happy at all. "Sheriff Northman could have come directly to me to express his concern."

"Felipe, you're really not going to get bogged down in bureaucracy now, are you? Northman has been in the area much longer than you, and he has faithfully defended not only the interests of Louisiana, but also those of the southern states as a union for decades." Stan stood up and approached Felipe and whispered. "I recommend that you not question his loyalty and ultimate interest in the peace of our community."

He stood up and said firmly, "Thank you, Stan, Tennessee, Mississippi, for your assessment of the situation and your advice." He refused to take it as an order; kings did not take orders from others. "I will give orders for the search for Victor as soon as I return to Las Vegas and bring him directly to me."

"And then what?" asked Stan, who was no fool.

"What do you want, Stan? Send him to his final death for playing with witches?" Felipe growled. Victor was still his second in command.

"That will depend on the consequences of his games."

"This is a pre-trial, we are not discussing death sentences; I will discipline him as appropriate and order the resources he has invested in these... pursuits be withdrawn," he finally said.

And with that, he took his leave, but not before stopping to pass by me and Eric. "In the future, Sheriff Northman and Miss Stackhouse, as a token of my gratitude for the protection I have extended to you, I expect you to come directly to me. I will not tolerate being questioned by my fellow regents in this manner again."

I swallowed hard. Eric stood motionless until, with a slight bow, he said, "If I have offended you, my King, please accept my apologies. It was not my intention. I assumed you were unaware of these serious events and that it would be better to hear about them from another southern regent rather than a mere sheriff. We are very grateful for your protection and know that you would never allow anything to happen that would jeopardize it."

Felipe smiled at Eric's flattery and continued on his way. The emissaries from Tennessee and Mississippi had retired to their rooms, and Stan stayed a little longer and approached us. He looked older—weighted by centuries in the last five minutes—though vampires don't age. He fixed his gaze on Eric, dismissing the rest of us as if we were mere furniture. "The council's stance is diplomatic," he drawled, Texas accent thick with tension. "We can't do more for now".

Pam scoffed, silk tearing. Eric's face stayed a marble mask, but I felt his rage pulse through our bond.

"So… nothing changes," I said.

Stan's words came clipped. "It's politics. Enough evidence to unsteady Felipe, not enough to dethrone him or ask for Victor's final death.

"Go back to your area," Stan instructed. "Stay alert. If Victor shows up, I want you to contact me immediately. Texas and Mississippi will be prepared to send him straight to Felipe."

Eric gave one curt nod, as final as a guillotine blade, and that was that.

Dawn was approaching, and with Shreveport too far to reach before the sun claimed the sky, we accepted Stan's hospitality for the day. Guards escorted Joe—his fate still undetermined—down to the reinforced cells beneath the mansion. Eric's jaw tightened as they led him away; whatever punishment awaited Joe would be decided once we returned to Area Five.

We returned to our quarters—the same space where dark forces had assaulted us mere hours before. Requesting different accommodations seemed futile; Victor's magic would track us regardless. During the day, Eric would enter his deathlike slumber, oblivious to any threat, while my rest would remain vigilant, my senses never fully surrendering to unconsciousness. Bill and Pam joined for a moment before going to their respective rooms.

"He is not going to search for Victor," I murmured, barely louder than a breath, my fingers twisting the ruby ring that suddenly felt like a millstone. Eric heard and start caressing my shoulders.

Pam flopped into a high-backed, dried-blood–red velvet chair, her platinum hair gleaming like moonlight. "Did you catch his eyes under that seamless smile? That wasn't pride. That was contempt—someone moved his piece without asking."

Bill crossed his arms, his charcoal suit stretching taut across broad shoulders. His dark, haunted eyes pinched into obsidian slits. "He's plotting his next play like a grandmaster. He will pretend to discipline Victor. We still don't know if he was aware of this from the beginning."

I glanced at Eric—the hard line of his jaw, the way his fingers twitched as if craving Victor's throat. "Then how do we stop him?

Eric turned to me, ice-blue eyes cool yet strangely vulnerable. "We have to find him first".

Bill and Pam soon retired for the day's rest, and Eric stood near the bed, taking off his shirt. I watched the motion, but tonight, there was no seduction. Just exhaustion, layered over restraint.

He glanced over his shoulder. "I can't leave you vulnerable while I'm dead to the world." Eric's fingers tightened around his phone. "Not after what happened. I'm calling Alcide for backup."

I caught his wrist before he could finish dialing. "Hold on. Amelia texted that she's bringing enough protection spells to fortify the whole block." His arm softened beneath my touch as I drew small patterns across his marble-cool skin. "And don't forget—sunrise doesn't pull you under completely since our bond changed. Yes, you can't leave the room, but we can spend the day here..." I glanced at the bed, letting the implication hang between us.

Eric's gaze lingered on my lips, hunger flashing behind his eyes before responsibility reclaimed him. "Not now, lover." His kiss landed cool against my hairline, and then he was moving again, stalking the perimeter of our room with predatory precision. "Victor won't wait for us to recover. We need to anticipate his next three moves while he's still plotting his first."

I snorted and collapsed onto the bed. "Well, that's a first—the great Eric Northman turning down sex, with me!"

Eric abandoned his pacing and settled beside me, his cool fingers tracing my jawline. "Sookie," he said, my name soft on his lips, "after what happened today, I can't afford distraction just now, while we're still here. Not when Victor's still out there hunting us."

I exhaled, the fight leaving me. Truth was, if our positions were reversed, I'd be just as vigilant. This new magic humming under my skin made me feel invincible—dangerous thinking.

My phone vibrated; Amelia had sent a text. Stan, informed by Pam about the Witch's company, had provided her a room, but she was planning to immediately begin searching the mansion for traces of magical residue before it faded, then take a nap, and later visit Dallas's downtown in the afternoon.

I could join her search after Eric succumbed to daylight, but something inside me resisted the idea of leaving him. What if Victor's magic targeted him while he was defenseless? After all the times Eric had protected me from danger, it was now my turn to keep watch. He couldn't shield himself from black magic, but I had the power to do so.

Eric lay on the bed, his eyes half-lidded but alert, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against his thigh. The sun had already risen, yet he hadn't gone rigid with daylight paralysis. A sharp rap-rap-rap broke the silence. "Who is it?" I called, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Before I could blink, Eric materialized beside me, his shoulder pressing me backward as he angled his body between me and whatever waited on the other side.

"It's me, Sook, Amelia. Can I come in, or are you both not decent?"

I slipped past Eric's formidable stance and yanked the door open with urgency. Amelia stood there, exhaustion etched into the dark circles beneath her eyes, her hair hastily pulled back in a frantic attempt at order. Yet her cheeks were a vivid pink, and she practically vibrated with energy, clutching a worn leather satchel bursting with herbs and vials as if her very life depended on it.

"You look terrible, Amelia. I'm sorry to have dragged you all the way here."

"Nonsense!" she interrupted, her voice a defiant burst of vitality. "Pam sent a car for me, and I managed to rest on the way. These," she pointed emphatically at the shadows beneath her eyes, "are not your doing, darling," she added, a mischievous wink darting from her eye. Clearly, this witch wasted no time.

"Can I come in?" Her body was already halfway through the threshold. Eric had retreated to the bed again, his posture relaxed yet his senses sharp and vigilant.

"I see you're mastering the art of staying awake," Amelia observed with a knowing smile.

"I don't try, it just happens. But yes," Eric replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he leaned into the headboard with an air of resigned endurance.

I positioned myself beside Amelia. "So, any news?" The urgency clear in my voice.

"Yes, indeed. The house is fortified, should you wish to know; both magically and physically, with Eric's guards on high alert." She paused, her gaze drifting around the room, scrutinizing the malignant black stain festering in the corner of the ceiling. "As for this... it is undeniably black magic, and it bears the unmistakable mark of New Orleans. I could identify it anywhere. Though I've never dabbled in such darkness, let's just say... my past wasn't always wise, and I became acquainted with some of the most formidable witches in New Orleans who dedicated their lives to these dark arts." Her voice faltered, eyes diverting with a shadow of regret. "I secured your door with a protective charm before I even knocked," she declared, gesturing with her chin towards the bedroom door.

Amelia's hands glided along the walls with a deliberate, almost primal instinct, pausing at intervals, her eyes fluttering shut as she inhaled deeply. She resembled a bloodhound, meticulously inspecting every corner of an airport.

At one point, she halted, eyes firmly closed, pressing her palms against the wall as an incantation in Latin spilled from her lips with a fervor that seemed to charge the room. I glanced at Eric, gauging his reaction to this arcane display; he remained composed, yet his eyes gleamed with fascination at each revelation Amelia unearthed.

"Pam told me you stopped the attack," she demanded, eyes wide with disbelief. I nodded, my heart still pounding. "It's astonishing, Sook. This attack was meant for both of you, with explicit orders to shatter the bond that ties you together... through death." I froze, ice creeping through my veins. Eric shot up and wrapped me in an urgent embrace from behind. "The mission was to kill one of you, severing the bond. I doubt it was Sookie because Victor has a vested interest in her, but rather..." Her voice trailed off, eyes locking onto Eric with grim intensity.

I spun around, clutching Eric's face between my hands, tears starting to fill my eyes. "You handle the physical threats, Eric. I'll take care of this. They won't take you away from me." If fear gripped him, he masked it very well, maintaining an unsettling calm, processing every detail with sharp focus.

"Can you pinpoint who sent it?" he finally pressed, the urgency in his voice palpable.

"I believe so. Magic carries the caster's essence, like a unique scent, which is why I was sniffing the wall." She scrutinized me, ensuring her actions had purpose. "I recognize this essence. It's faint, hours have passed and it's fading, yet it's enough to identify the sender."

"What do you need?" Eric asked, his practicality cutting through the tension.

"Instinct screams we storm New Orleans and confront this person, but reaching her isn't straightforward. I doubt she'd welcome me back with open arms. Our last encounter was... less than amicable."

"Is your ex?!" I burst out, shock lacing my words.

"I've not always made the wisest choices," she admitted with a weary sigh. "Besides, we need a contingency plan. I lack the power to face her if she strikes, but Sookie clearly possesses that strength." Her gaze bore into me.

"I'm not sending Sookie to confront a black magic witch who tried to end my life. I refuse to endanger her for my sake," Eric declared fiercely.

"Eric, allow me to choose for myself. Amelia is right, the one who thwarted her spell should be the one to confront her. It makes perfect sense," I insisted, my resolve unwavering.

"First, it would be wise to return to the house and intensify your training. Call Rosyn, and also find Niall. He needs to be aware of your steps. Remember, there are other enemies lurking just beyond the portal, tracking your every move," urged Amelia with fierce intensity.

Eric's jaw clenched with such intensity that the sound of his teeth grinding reverberated in the room. His eyes, once a calm blue, now blazed dangerously, darkening to midnight as his fists clenched at his sides.

"There's something else." Amelia's voice turned into a mere whisper, urgency lacing each word as she gripped my hands tightly, her nails digging crescents into my skin. "The Codex screamed, Sookie—screamed until I uncovered the hidden message within. Ink materialized on its pages..." Her words rushed out frantically. "Claudine has been taken by the Unseelie. They demand you, only you, in exchange."

My stomach plummeted, a physical sensation of falling through the floor. The room spun violently, bile scorching the back of my throat. Claudine, my protector, my own flesh and blood, suffering in darkness while I remained here under free air.

"You must not contact Niall. What if he betrays you, delivering you to the Unseelie?" Eric's voice snarled with a mix of fear and anger.

"No," Amelia said, her gaze unwavering. "The message bears his signature. Had he wished to hand you over, Sookie, you'd be gone already. He wouldn't waste time with warnings."

Eric's face remained stone. Through our bond came a tempest of emotion so intense I collapsed into the chair of the desk. My heartbeat drowned out all sound as the walls seemed to close in. Victor had sent dark magic. The Unseelie were hunting. And somewhere, Claudine was suffering—because of me.

I struck the desk with both palms, anchoring myself to reality. "We return home immediately after first dark. This stops NOW."

Something primordial awakened within me, electric and terrible. Energy pulsed across my skin, lifting strands of my hair as though caught in an invisible current. In that moment, I felt them—generations of women from my ancestral bloodline, their strength flowing into mine, their battle cries echoing across time. They had never surrendered. I wouldn't either.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18. Lift me up

EPOV

The journey back to Shreveport was filled with silence, broken only by the soft hum of Sookie's SUV engine and the occasional whisper of wind against the windows. Sookie sat in the passenger seat, her fingers tightly interwoven in her lap, her knuckles pale. In the backseat, Amelia sat with her knees drawn up like a nervous schoolgirl.

Pam and Bill had taken Pam's car to head to Fangtasia, while we continued our way home. They would handle Joe. I didn't need to be involved in that. He had been helpful until he wasn't. And when a traitor was no longer useful, the right move was to swiftly and unceremoniously eliminate them.

Tonight, my focus was entirely on the woman beside me. Her heartbeat had been an anxious rhythm since we left Dallas, and it still carried the tense beat of worry. Claudine's disappearance was a serious issue; fairies rarely allowed themselves to be captured, and never quietly. Whoever managed to do it had power, resources, and was willing to challenge Niall, Sookie, and me by extension.

We drove into the gravel driveway, approaching the home Sookie and I were building together. Amelia exited the car before I even turned off the engine, muttering something about needing tea. Sookie lingered for a moment.

"Come inside," I said softly. She nodded but didn't immediately move. I could sense the questions tormenting her, the fear for her cousin's safety, the uncertainty about her own situation.

Inside, Amelia was busy in the kitchen — the sound of mugs clinking, water running, engaging in the familiar and ultimately futile human rituals. I followed Sookie to the living room. She paused near the sofa, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Do you think she's alive?" she asked, her gaze averted.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "If they meant to kill her, we would have heard by now."

Sookie lifted her head, her eyes searching mine. "And if they're… hurting her?"

I closed the gap between us, catching the faint scent of dust and fear on her skin. "Niall will find her. And I will never let anyone take you from me. You're safe, Sookie."

Words alone weren't enough. Amelia reappeared with two steaming mugs, setting one before Sookie.

"Thank you, Amelia," Sookie murmured.

Amelia glanced between us, sensing the tension but staying silent. "The wards are intact—I checked. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Once she'd gone, Sookie sank into the couch, clutching her mug like a lifeline. I remained at the other end, watching her.

"You look exhausted, lover. You should rest," I said softly.

She shook her head. "I'm not tired. I have to call Niall." She dialed three times with no answer, then left a message for Rhosyn to resume training first thing in the morning.

"If Niall doesn't pick up, I'll keep training—and focus on getting Claudine back."

I stepped nearer and held her hand. "Sookie, you won't get more involved in this than you need to."

"Excuse me?" Sookie's brows rose. "You can't forbid me. Claudine is family."

"Sookie, they want you—they'd have you on a silver platter if you go. We don't know their intentions, but they are not good." I squeezed her hand. "I know you feel you must prove yourself, but no one expects you to risk your life—not even Claudine."

Sookie paused, weighing my words. I brushed my thumb over her ring. "I asked you to share your life with me forever, and you said yes. Imagine the pain it would cause me if you were hurt." I lifted her chin so our eyes met. "Okay?"

She nodded, and the conversation faded. Her mind was too full to argue. I gathered her into my arms, stroking her hair as her breathing slowed and she slipped into a deep, necessary sleep.

SPOV

The windowless bedroom left me in darkness, but my alarm's piercing 8 a.m. shriek jolted me awake. I found Eric's eyes already locked on mine, burning with an ancient hunger that made my breath catch. His paperback lay forgotten beside him.

His lips claimed my forehead, lingering with possessive coolness. "Morning, lover."

"God, I'll never get used to seeing you awake in our bed every morning," I whispered, my body instinctively arching toward his.

Eric's fingers seized my bare shoulder, his grip firm enough to make me shiver. "I've found it has some advantages…" he challenged.

His touch blazed a trail down to where my neck met my collarbone, his thumb pressing against my thundering pulse.

"Is that so? Show me then, Viking," I demanded, blood rushing hot beneath my skin.

His eyes flashed dangerously as he pinned me against the pillows. My gasp tore through the silence as his mouth found the sensitive hollow of my throat. He also had that kind of hunger, and it was my duty to satisfy it.

As Eric started to get his daily nutritional supplement, he proceeded to show me the many advantages of his newfound resistance to the sunlight hours during the day, more than once...

Just as his fangs grazed my skin again, the intercom's violent buzz ripped through our sanctuary. Colette announced Rhosyn's arrival, her voice an unwelcome intrusion.

"Five minutes," I growled into the speaker before turning back to Eric. I gripped his tangled hair, pulling him to me for one last desperate moment. "Rain check on round three?"

His predatory gaze tracked me as I slid from the bed. "You're killing me"."

I met his stare with equal intensity. "You're already dead, darling," I said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Amelia had gone to Bon Temps to take care of some errands while Colette was busy making lunch. Meanwhile, Rhosyn and I ventured to a secluded spot in our large backyard, surrounded by tall, leafy trees, away from the house.

I updated her on the recent events, including what transpired in Dallas, Claudine's disappearance, and my plan to assist.

"I knew right when it occurred. Niall informed me," she stated firmly. Rhosyn always maintained impressive control over her emotions. "His forces are already scouring for her. There's nothing more for us to do at the moment, Sookie."

"But what's the use of having all this power if not for situations like this?" I asked, frustrated.

"You haven't mastered it yet. I'm confident you'll become nearly as powerful as the first fairy in history one day, but that day isn't today or tomorrow, even with all the training we can offer... Your magic follows its own process; it has to mature alongside you. You're still young."

Rhosyn exhaled a thin, resigned sigh. "I know it's not the answer you want, but it's the only truthful one. We'll keep working until you're ready for anything. I promise."

Ready for anything. Right. If Claudine was harmed—or worse—because I wasn't "ready," I'd never forgive myself.

"Fine," I said frustrated. "Then let's stop talking and start doing."

Rhosyn guided me through a series of warm-up exercises, with magic stretching and flexing just beneath my skin. We practiced shielding, meditations, incantations, some light activities that made my scalp tingle. But today, Rhosyn introduced a new lesson plan.

"You said you want to help people," Rhosyn said, settling cross-legged on the grass. "It's time you learn how to use your magic to project; that's the first step in manipulating your surroundings."

The fragrance of sweet magnolias and damp earth filled the air. Sunlight poured into the clearing Rhosyn had selected, causing the dewdrops on the grass to shimmer.

Rhosyn faced me, her long coat brushing the ground like a queen's train. "We're starting small today, Sookie. One pebble. You've pulled things toward you before—now I want you to push them away. Send it flying."

I stared at the little gray stone between us. "These things are more ornery than they look."

A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. "The stone isn't fighting you. You're fighting yourself. Projection isn't strength—it's persuasion. Convince your energy to move."

"Hard to sweet-talk something I can't even see."

She took a step forward, her gaze intense in the daylight. "Shut your eyes. Find that warmth in your chest. That's your essence—your spark. Imagine it glowing. Then let it expand with each breath."

I followed her instructions, but instead of some serene golden aura, what bubbled up felt like electricity after too many espressos. My pulse quickened like a Saturday night at Merlotte's when the game was on.

"That's it," Rhosyn whispered. "Guide it through your arms, out your fingertips—right at that stone."

Something stirred inside me. A warmth. A vibration that gathered like water behind a dam. I released it—too forcefully—and the pebble launched skyward as if snapped from a slingshot, disappearing into the underbrush.

"Sweet Jesus," I gasped. "Did you see—"

"Unrefined," Rhosyn cut in. "But not without potential."

I opened my eyes to find her studying me, her expression a blend of satisfaction and concern.

"Told you they were stubborn," I said.

"And I told you," she countered, "the stone isn't the problem. You are. Master yourself, and you'll command more than pebbles."

As she turned to fetch our runaway stone, I caught the hint of pride she couldn't quite hide.

Amelia's text buzzed in my pocket—she was back and hungry—just as I managed to embed my fifth consecutive pebble into the bark of the old oak, leaving a constellation of tiny impact craters across its trunk.

My fingertips tingled, warm and electric. Rhosyn declined my invitation to stay, gathering her long coat around her like folding wings. "Tomorrow morning," she said, her voice carrying the weight of ancient promises. "Practice tonight. Remember—it's not just objects. Your light can touch anything." Her eyes met mine meaningfully. "Anyone."

After we said our goodbyes, I decided to go to the house for lunch with Amelia. Upon entering, I noticed the dim lighting; Eric had drawn all the window shades so he could move around the rooms without issue. He was sun-resistant, but still wouldn't take any chances. He was fully awake and engaged in a conversation with Colette about the house's requirements.

"I think hiring another domestic helper for daily chores would be beneficial, and perhaps a butler to handle your personal matters, while I'll take care of Mrs. Sookie's," Colette suggested to Eric. Eric nodded, agreeing to the half-witch's proposal.

"Hey, you," I greeted him as I joined Amelia, who was already seated at the table. "I figured you'd take it easy and not overuse your new abilities."

"I did, but I got bored," he replied, pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table where we usually had our informal meals.

Colette brought our plates over, and Eric settled in beside me with a glass of TruBlood.

"Learn anything new today?" Amelia asked, eyebrows raised as Eric's fingers traced lazy circles on my knee beneath the tablecloth.

I swallowed a spoonful of Colette's gumbo—rich with andouille and that perfect roux only Louisiana natives seem born knowing how to make. "Rhosyn's teaching me to project energy outward. Not just pulling things to me anymore, but pushing them away."

Eric's thumb pressed into the hollow behind my knee, his contentment rolling off him in waves. Whether it was the spicy aroma of the food or his mischievous under-table artwork, I couldn't tell, but his eyes held that particular gleam that made my stomach flip.

When our bowls were empty, I led them both to the living room.

"Stand there," I directed Eric toward one corner, then pointed Amelia to the opposite end. "I'm going to try something."

I positioned myself between them, forming our triangle, and took a deep breath. Rhosyn believed I could envelop them both in my energy—maybe even lift them an inch off the ground. Time to find out if she was right.

I closed my eyes and reached for Amelia first, my breath catching as I felt my power surge through my veins like liquid fire. The energy coiled inside me, then shot across the room in ribbons of golden light that only I could see. They wrapped around her, clinging to her outline like a second skin. Amelia gasped. Her hair lifted in a phantom breeze, and a faint shimmer danced across her skin, but when I tried to lift her—nothing. My power slammed against some invisible wall.

"Damn it," I hissed, releasing her with a snap that made us both flinch.

I turned to Eric, our eyes locking. The bond between us pulsed, hungry. This time when I reached out, my power didn't crawl—it leaped, a starving thing finally unleashed. It devoured the space between us, crashing into him with such force that the air around him rippled. I didn't need to speak; my will was enough. "Rise," I commanded silently, and Eric's body shot upward, hovering nearly a foot off the ground. His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with a primal recognition that made my skin burn.

Through our bond surged emotions so raw they nearly buckled my knees—a primal cocktail of amazement, hunger, possession. I'd noticed a pattern lately: whenever I wielded my magic, Eric's desire flared like gasoline thrown on fire. Who was I kidding? The man could watch me fold laundry and somehow find it arousing.

"Sookie..." Eric's voice held a warning note as his body drifted upward, surrounded by a golden aura that mimicked fairy light. Amelia's jaw dropped as she watched him hover near the ceiling.

I tilted my head, testing the boundaries of this new power. "To the right," I whispered, the command barely audible.

One aristocratic eyebrow arched as Eric's massive frame glided sideways against his will. The muscles in his jaw tightened—a thousand-year-old vampire, helpless in my invisible grip. Through our bond, I felt his unease ripple like dark water.

A giggle escaped my lips. Eric's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"Having fun?" he growled, the question rumbling from deep in his chest.

I guided him toward the sofa with a flick of my wrist, depositing him onto the cushions with surprising gentleness.

"Enough," he commanded, though we both knew who held the power now.

"Sorry," I said, not sorry at all, my smile stretching wide. "Just nice to be the one calling the shots for once."

"I want to try again!" Amelia chimed in eagerly. "Let me have a go."

"I'm not sure, Amelia. It worked with Eric because we share a bond of energy and magic. But there's no harm in trying again."

I released Eric from my grip, and focused my magic towards Amelia, who was eagerly anticipating the touch of my power. Once the light was directed at her, I started by making her hair dance, bringing laughter to her lips.

Gradually, I wrapped her limbs, arm by arm and leg by leg, until she was completely enveloped. It took quite a bit longer to lift her, but after several attempts and beads of sweat trickling down my temples, I managed to raise her gently about 20 centimeters off the ground. With a flick of my finger, I made her spin in place.

"Oh my God, Sookie!" Amelia's laughter filled the room as she twirled in mid-air. Her eyes sparkled with childlike wonder. "It's incredible—like floating in a hot spring without getting wet."

When her feet touched the carpet again, I couldn't help but ask, "Really? What exactly does it feel like?"

Amelia hugged herself, eyes closed in remembrance. "Like being wrapped in the world's softest electric blanket. All these tiny pleasant tingles everywhere." She glanced at Eric, who stood with his arms crossed. "I'm guessing Mr. Thousand-Year-Old-Control-Freak didn't enjoy the ride as much."

Eric's mouth twitched, almost betraying a smile and he rolled his eyes. Through our bond, I felt his reluctant admission—beneath his wounded pride, he'd experienced the same comforting warmth Amelia described.

We stayed like that for a while longer, until Eric felt the call of the last hours of sunshine to rest and retired to our room.

Amelia and I decided to go get the Codex, to resume our reading that we had paused before Dallas and see if there were any other hidden messages from Niall or Claudine.

"I left it just as you did," Amelia said as she took it out of its hiding place. "But I could only read Niall's message. Did you put a spell on it so that its contents wouldn't be revealed?

I smiled and nodded. I had to be sure before leaving it there without my protection.

"Not for you, you know that," I assured Amelia.

When I opened it, I recited the same incantation so that it would now appear before Amelia and me and take me to the page that needed to be read on this occasion. It rushed to show us something new:

On the Silence of the Veiled

"In the elder days, ere the realms were sundered, there walked among us the Veiled — the firstborn fae that the Old World would ever see. Their craft was pure, unbroken by pact or dilution, and their strength rose above all other kind. Sight they possessed that pierced both shadow and light; with a word they bent the weave of earth, sky, and soul. None before nor since have held such mastery.

Yet in the waning of the First Age, fear took root in the heart of the Old Unseelie, a Veiled branch, created to controlled dark senses, so the Veiled would keep their pure nature. But soon they beheld the Veiled not as kin, but as peril — for in the veins of that bloodline flowed the power to unmake thrones and undo the laws writ into the marrow of magic itself. So was wrought the Great Silence: a binding beyond death, beyond time, that sealed the fullness of their gifts. The voices of the Veiled were stilled, and their works cast into shadow.

Though their power was shorn, the line endured in secret, scattered among lesser houses. No child born thereafter bore the whole of the gift, yet the blood ran true enough to stir in times of turning. It is said that, when realms again stand on the brink, the old gift shall rise in one whose fate is bound to many worlds.

Of this blood are few in the now-world — yet some are known: Some women from the North, their veins bearing the shadow of the Veiled. Some women from the South, their veins bearing the light of the Veiled. The Seedmother, who keepeth the Gate, is herself last-born with the whole gift of that elder house, a remnant of the time before Silence."

"It's the tale of how the Veiled were eradicated," Amelia murmured. "Though not entirely..." she added, glancing at me.

"They were silenced," I corrected her.

"But you lifted the curse," Amelia insisted. "Don't you see?"

I knew what Amelia was saying. The realization hit me like a lightning bolt, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. Seedmother and Heidrun's words at the door crashed back into my mind with terrifying clarity—they had scattered fragments of the Veiled through time, waiting for the Light. For ME.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the pieces locked together. I wasn't just some random fairy hybrid—I was the salvation they'd been waiting for, the one meant to shatter milleniums of enforced silence. The blood in my veins suddenly felt electric, alien. My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the table.

"Oh my God," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears. Niall's cryptic comments about my bloodline—that part of me that didn't match the Brigant heritage—it wasn't just some genetic curiosity. The truth blazed through me like wildfire: I carried the blood of the Veiled. Their power. Their destiny. Their vengeance. No wonder they were screaming at me, begging me to remember.

The bond between Eric and me—Eric sharing Heidrun's ancient bloodline—had awakened what had slumbered for generations. Those scattered pieces of Veiled power, passed down like silent heirlooms through countless descendants, now sang in my veins. The magic that had been muzzled for millennia now pulsed beneath my skin, a living force demanding release. I could feel it building toward an unavoidable clash with the Unseelie Court.

The question that sent shivers down my spine wasn't whether it would happen, but how it would unfold—and whether I would confront this fate by myself, or if another resurrected Veiled descendant somewhere else in the world was experiencing the same awakening as I was.

"I'm what they've been waiting for, Amelia" I whispered to Amelia, my fingertips pressing against the ancient page as though I could absorb its truth through my skin. My voice trembled with the weight of revelation. "The last ember of something they tried to extinguish forever."

Amelia's eyebrows knitted together as she studied my face, searching for clues to the revelation that had just shaken me to my core. A moment of understanding flickered across her features—for once, she was the one reading thoughts instead of me. "Well," she said with a forced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I always said you weren't exactly normal, Sookie Stackhouse."

But this was beyond anything I could have imagined.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 Recap:

"I'm what they've been waiting for, Amelia" I whispered to Amelia, my fingertips pressing against the ancient page as though I could absorb its truth through my skin. My voice trembled with the weight of revelation. "The last ember of something they tried to extinguish forever."

Amelia's eyebrows knitted together as she studied my face, searching for clues to the revelation that had just shaken me to my core. A moment of understanding flickered across her features—for once, she was the one reading thoughts instead of me. "Well," she said with a forced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I always said you weren't exactly normal, Sookie Stackhouse."

But this was beyond anything I could have imagined.

SPOV

Sleep evaded me completely as I waited for sunset to bring Eric back to consciousness. My mind raced with images from the Codex and horrible visions of what Claudine might be enduring at this very moment—all because of me. I needed to take action, to formulate some kind of rescue strategy, but I could already picture Eric's face, his jaw set with that fierce protectiveness that had only intensified since everything that had happened between us.

Eric stirred an hour before sunset, his eyes finding mine in the dim light. The bond between us must have carried my anxiety to him even through his daytime rest.

"Your emotions are loud enough to wake the dead, lover" he murmured, reaching for my hand. "What's going on?"

I nodded, throat tight. "Claudine. I feel so useless just sitting here."

His cool fingers traced the line of my jaw. "We move when we have a plan, not before. Rushing in half-prepared won't help her." His expression softened into something more intimate. "Until then, I can think of better ways to occupy that mind of yours."

Despite everything, I felt myself leaning into his touch. Distraction wasn't a solution—but right now, it was all I had.

Eric's touch banished thought, his cool lips tracing a path down my neck as we picked up where we'd left off that morning. The world beyond our bedroom door ceased to exist—no kidnappings, no ancient prophecies, no lurking dangers. Just his hands memorizing my skin, my fingers tangled in his hair, our bodies speaking a language older than words. I lost myself in the rhythm of us, in the fantasy that we were nothing more than lovers with an ordinary future stretched before us. But even as I arched beneath him, my mind had already crystallized around what needed to be done. When his fangs grazed my throat, I pulled him closer, offering more than I usually would. "Drink deep, my love," I whispered against his ear.

My plan would only separate us for a day—if luck stayed on my side for once. I steadied my breathing and focused on projecting calm through our bond, which pulsed almost visibly between us after we'd been intimate. Eric's fangs retracted as he lifted his head, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. While I plotted behind mental walls, his emotions flowed unguarded into me: love tangled with desire, and beneath them both, that familiar vampire hunger, sated but never truly gone.

I watched him stretch languidly across the bed, his face open and relaxed while mine held secrets behind a careful smile. Even as my body hummed with afterglow, my mind was already three steps ahead, plotting. Eric's eyes met mine as he pulled on his shirt, completely unaware of what I'd decided while we'd been tangled together.

"I need to stop by Fangtasia tonight," he said, buttoning his cuffs. "Come with me."

I tucked my hair behind my ear, making sure my voice stayed steady. "Amelia's been through enough these days. I should stay with her—we'll be fine here until you get back."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue that had just whispered love against his skin. Forgive me, Eric.

But hadn't he done the same countless times—kept me in the dark about his own schemes, all while claiming it was for my protection? Turnabout's fair play, vampire.

Eric's jaw tightened, but he finally nodded his agreement. I watched his taillights disappear down our long driveway before sprinting to Amelia's room, bursting through her door without knocking.

"Pack for New Orleans. We leave as soon as possible," I said, already pulling her duffel bag from under her bed.

Amelia froze mid-page-turn, her grimoire forgotten. "Sookie, you can't be serious. Eric will lose his mind when he finds out."

"That's why I'll be three parishes away by the time he figures it out," I said, tossing her bag onto the bed with enough force to make my point.

"Five hours on the road—"

"Alcide's driving." I checked my phone, the message I'd sent him still showing 'delivered' but not 'read.' "Called in a favor."

Amelia's face went through a complicated series of expressions before settling on reluctant concern. "This is reckless, even for you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Since when did you become the voice of vampire-approved caution?"

"I need you, Amelia," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You're the only one who knows this witch." I watched her shoulders slump in defeat as she yanked open her dresser drawer, pulling out just enough clothes for a single day. "Fine," she muttered, stuffing them into her bag with sharp, angry movements. "But we're coming back tomorrow, Sookie. With or without whatever you think you're going to find."

I nodded with a smile. I didn't want to be separated from Eric any longer and increase his anger and desperation.

I wouldn't be heartless either. I would leave a note so he would know where to find us, but I knew he wouldn't be able to move during the day.

I tucked Eric's gift—the poetry book– into my bag just as Alcide's heavy knock rattled the door.

"You're a lifesaver," I said, swinging it open.

Alcide leaned against the doorframe, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Lifesaver? More like suicide mission. Your vampire's going to have my hide for this."

"I'll handle Eric," I promised, noticing the second figure lingering in the shadows behind him. "You brought company?"

"Tray was already riding shotgun when your text lit up my phone," Alcide explained, nodding toward the bulky figure emerging from the passenger side. "Thought you might appreciate having two wolves at your back instead of one."

Tray approached with a cautious nod, his broad shoulders blocking the porch light. "This have anything to do with that fairy situation?" he asked, voice low.

I scanned the darkening horizon, my stomach knotting as Eric's face flashed in my mind. "Details in the car. Amelia!" The last syllable of her name broke between my lips like thin ice.

The trunk thudded closed over our mismatched luggage, and then we were gone—Alcide's tires spitting gravel behind us as we fled down the long drive, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror until the trees swallowed it whole.

Amelia shifted in the back seat, angling toward the broad-shouldered man beside her. "So you're the second wolf reinforcement," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Amelia."

Tray's calloused palm engulfed Amelia's hand in a brief, firm shake. "Tray Dawson. I run with Alcide's pack sometimes" His eyes caught the passing streetlights as he glanced toward the front seat. "Looks like we're in for a long ride."

"Wouldn't be my first," Amelia murmured, her smile revealing just enough to be interesting.

EPOV

Low bass thumped through the floor of Fangtasia, an artificial heartbeat that felt more like war drums than music. Pam stood behind the bar in her signature crimson blouse. The crowd was light—just enough humans to sate the regulars, but none who looked like trouble. Or so it seemed.

At exactly 12:37 a.m., the phone rang.

"His Majesty sends his compliments," drawled the voice on the line. It was Maximillian—Felipe de Castro's ever-snarky errand-boy. Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess: still no word on Victor."

Silence stretched out—deliberate and pointed.

"The King reminds you that if Sheriff Madden shows up in your territory, you are not to detain, question, or delay him. Notify His Majesty immediately, and he'll handle it."

"Because that's worked so well already," Eric replied dryly.

"Careful, Northman," Maximillian warned.

"Understood." Eric ended the call with a sharp click and stared at the phone as though it had personally offended him before setting it aside.

Pam sauntered over, drying a martini glass on a rag she probably hadn't washed in weeks. "Another round of royal posturing?"

"Felipe keeps referring to Victor as 'missing' while refusing to deploy any real resources to locate him," Eric said, his voice low and dangerous.

"If Victor turns up dead, Felipe will pin it on you," Pam replied flatly.

Eric's jaw tightened as he leaned forward. "This has escalated beyond vampire politics. The Unseelie have taken Claudine—Niall Brigant's own blood. They're sending us a message we can't ignore."

Pam's eyes flicked. "You think they're going after Sookie?"

"I know they are. They have asked explicitly for Sookie in exchange." He checked his watch. "It's 1:09 a.m. Come to my house. I've got a plan to track Claudine. Felicia and Clancy can close here. We may need to revert to old methods."

Pam blinked. "You mean the kind that usually end in a bloodbath and someone wearing entrails like a scarf?"

Eric's jaw tightened. "Whatever it takes."

Across the bar, Bill Compton—dressed in black and brooding as ever—rose from a high-top table and approached. "I take it this involves Sookie."

Eric looked him in the eye. "Claudine's missing, likely taken by the Unseelie. I don't have time for politics. If you're in, help. If not, stand aside."

Bill nodded once, eyes sharp. "I'm in."

"Good," Eric said. "You're welcome to come along."

The house loomed dark against the night sky as we pulled into the driveway. Sookie's SUV sat where I'd left it earlier, but the windows remained black—unusual for this hour when she typically waited up, reading in our bedroom with the lamp casting gold across the porch.

"Sookie?" The word hung in the air as I pushed open the door, Pam and Bill following close behind. Silence answered me. "SOOKIE!" I moved through the house at vampire speed, each empty room confirming what the bond had already told me. I'd kept our connection partially closed while at Fangtasia—sparing her from the darker currents of vampire business—but now I threw it wide open, finding only distance where her warmth should be.

When I returned to the entryway, Pam stood with a folded paper pinched between her fingers, her expression tightening as she scanned its contents.

"Your fairy has flown the nest," she said, extending the note toward me with a flick of her wrist.

My dead heart seemed to sink as I took it from her hand.

"Eric—

By the time you read this, I'll be halfway to New Orleans with Amelia. Don't be mad. I couldn't sit around waiting for a plan while Claudine suffers because of me.

The witch in New Orleans has to pay a price, and I need to test myself before facing the Unseelie.

I know you'll want to follow. Please don't. We'll be back tomorrow night.

I love you more than I can say.

—S"

The note crumpled in my fist. I closed my eyes, reaching through our bond like fingers stretching into fog. She was there—faint, distant—moving southward toward New Orleans. An hour away, perhaps less. One phone call to Anubis Air and I could be there in less than two hours. With each passing mile, each hour apart, the connection frayed like a weathered rope, but once there, the bond would guide me straight to her.

My temples throbbed with phantom pain, a sensation I hadn't experienced since my human life a millennium ago. My chest constricted as though silver bands were tightening around ribs that no longer needed to expand. This wasn't merely distance weakening our bond—it was betrayal. Her lie cut deeper than any silver blade could reach.

"Typical Sookie," Pam drawled, her voice acid-sharp as she picked up the emotional storm brewing through our bond.

Bill's dark eyes narrowed. "You can't possibly let her confront the witch without protection."

My fingers crushed the note into a tighter ball. A thousand-year-old vampire, rendered motionless by a fairy's handwriting. The irony would have amused me if rage weren't clawing through my chest.

The night air beckoned me to the porch, a moment's reprieve to clear my thoughts. Then came the whisper of movement above—too late to dodge the silver mesh that descended like hellfire onto my shoulders. My skin sizzled on contact, the acrid stench of burning flesh—my flesh—filling my nostrils.

"ERIC!" Pam's voice pierced through my haze of agony.

A guttural sound escaped me. "What the fuck..."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Pam and Bill struggling against an invisible barrier at the threshold. Meanwhile, two towering silhouettes flanked me, hoisting my silver-bound form between them like hunters with a fresh kill.

And, everything went black.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 19:

The night air beckoned me to the porch, a moment's reprieve to clear my thoughts. Then came the whisper of movement above—too late to dodge the silver mesh that descended like hellfire onto my shoulders. My skin sizzled on contact, the acrid stench of burning flesh—my flesh—filling my nostrils.
"ERIC!" Pam's voice pierced through my haze of agony.
A guttural sound escaped me. "What the fuck..."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Pam and Bill struggling against an invisible barrier at the threshold. Meanwhile, two towering silhouettes flanked me, hoisting my silver-bound form between them like hunters with a fresh kill.
And just like that, everything went black.

Chapter 20: Dying heart

SPOV

By the time our car rolled into New Orleans, my body felt like lead and my eyelids kept drooping. The dashboard clock read 2:17 AM—a blessing, really. No vampires meant no race against the rising sun. Amelia flashed her family credentials at a boutique hotel on Royal Street, and the night manager's eyes widened in recognition. We had rooms within minutes. But sleep would have to wait. The witch we needed—the one whose name Amelia kept mysteriously guarding while fidgeting with her bracelets—apparently did her best work in these gray hours before dawn. We pulled up to what must have once been a grand mansion. Now black mold crept up its columns, and tangled vines strangled ornate ironwork like nature was slowly reclaiming what humans had built.

The door creaked open at Amelia's knock, revealing a wisp of a girl—sixteen at most—with straw-blonde hair scattered with freckles across pale skin that hadn't seen much sun. Her posture suggested someone accustomed to making herself small.

"Lily?" Amelia's voice softened.

Recognition flashed across the girl's face. "Ames!" She flung her thin arms around Amelia's neck, momentarily transformed. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Just a quick visit, Lil. Need to talk to Carla."

Lily's shoulders fell slightly as she stepped back. "Figures," she muttered, gesturing us inside with a theatrical eye-roll. Alcide and Tray filed in behind us, their bulk making the entryway seem suddenly cramped.

We followed Lily deeper into the mansion, our footsteps echoing across worn floorboards that whispered stories of old New Orleans with every creak. The walls displayed a gallery of figures—some I recognized as indigenous totems, others resembling the pagan symbols I'd glimpsed in Amelia's books. My nostrils burned with competing scents: sage and myrrh battling against sweeter notes of jasmine and vanilla, so thick I had to stifle a cough. When Lily finally paused before a doorway draped with heavy black fabric, she turned and spoke to someone beyond in rapid French. I narrowed my focus, letting the foreign syllables arrange themselves into meaning in my mind—a skill that still surprised me whenever I used it. Tray and Alcide remained on the other side of the fabric – I didn't want them to witness what could occur here between two witches and a fairy.

"Sœur, devine qui est revenu," Lily said, nodding toward Amelia.

"Lil, Je t'ai dit que j'étais occupée, non?" Carla replied before turning her head to see who stood before her. "AMELIA, déesses sacrées—"

"Oui, oui, oui, ça suffit Carla, je ne suis pas revenu pour toi, je suis venu pour une raison précise," Amelia stepped forward, cutting off whatever hopes might have been blooming in Carla's expression.

"Tu n'as pas besoin d'être si dure..." Carla said, raising an eyebrow and looking away.

Amelia gestured toward me. "Recognize her?"

Carla's face fell, color draining from her cheeks as she retreated a step, knocking into the table behind her. Her fingers scrambled across her desk, shoving papers into drawers.

"I think you have the wrong address," she muttered, not meeting my eyes.

"Ta réaction me fait penser que non," I said in French, watching her flinch at the unexpected sound of her own language from my lips. Amelia's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Carla's hands fluttered over her dress, smoothing invisible wrinkles as she drew herself up like a marionette whose strings had suddenly been pulled taut.

"You sent her a death spell," Amelia said, her shadow stretching across the floor between them with each advancing step.

"A bond-dissolution spell," Carla corrected, her voice thin. "Nothing more."

"That nearly killed them both."

"Once magic leaves my hands, I can't control how it manifests," Carla said, her throat working visibly as she tilted her chin upward, eyes tracking Amelia's approach like prey watching a predator circle.

I'd never seen this steel in Amelia before—this cold, calculated intimidation. But we'd agreed: she would extract answers through pressure first, and only if she failed would I resort to my particular talents.

"God, you're exactly the same..." Amelia said, her voice catching slightly as something ancient and wounded flickered behind her eyes. She swallowed hard, then leaned forward. "Who hired you?"

"Client confidentiality is sacred," Carla said, her fingernails digging into the desk's wooden edge as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

"Carla." Amelia's voice dropped to a whisper as her eyes flicked toward me, a silent question hanging between us. "Don't make this any harder."

Amelia's glance was my signal. I flexed my fingers at my side, remembering Rhosyn's words from our last training session: "Trust your instincts. The magic knows what to do."
I pressed my palm against my thigh, hidden behind Amelia's back, and visualized energy swirling like water in a glass. A sharp pain needled through my sternum, yanking me from concentration. The bond—it had to be. Carla wouldn't notice yet, but she'd sense something soon if I didn't hurry. Victor had probably warned her about me.
The pain in my chest bloomed hotter, spreading like wildfire beneath my ribs. Instead of fighting it, I breathed into it, letting it fuel my focus rather than fracture it.
With a subtle twist of my index finger, I sent invisible threads wrapping around Carla's limbs. Her body went rigid, eyes widening as she realized she couldn't move.
"What the hell..." Her gaze snapped to mine, fear and recognition dawning simultaneously. "So it's true, you're a fucking fairy."

"I'm not your garden-variety fairy." I moved from Amelia's shadow, positioning her between me and the door as I faced Carla directly. "Now, I'll only ask once more—who paid for that spell?"

"You think I can't defend myself?" Carla warned, her fingers twitching at her sides.
With a flick of my wrist, I sent her body floating upward until she hovered horizontally in the air, face toward the floor, arms splayed like a swimmer frozen mid-stroke.

Sweat beaded along my hairline as the pain in my chest bloomed like hot coals beneath my ribs. Each breath came shorter than the last, my patience evaporating with every labored inhale.
"Last chance," I managed through gritted teeth. "Who. Hired. You?"

My knees started to buckle. Amelia's hand found the small of my back, steadying me as I fought for each shallow breath.

"What does it matter now? The damage is done."
With a flick of my wrist, I rotated her suspended body until she faced the ceiling.
"Your spell is broken. Strange that a witch of your supposed caliber didn't sense it. Perhaps your reputation exceeds your talent."
Despite floating horizontally above us, her face betrayed everything—first shock rippling across her features, then a flash of wounded pride, finally settling into a cold fury that tightened her jaw and narrowed her eyes to slits.

"Traitor!" Carla spat the word at Amelia, her face contorting with rage. "After everything—"
"Our history doesn't matter now," Amelia cut her off, voice steady. "Tell us who hired you, and we'll go."

My magic wavered as black spots danced at the edges of my vision. Carla's body dipped in the air, and I leaned heavily against Amelia's supporting arm, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me.

Carla's eyelids squeezed shut as her chest deflated with a long exhale. "Victor Madden," she whispered, the name hanging in the air between us like smoke.

I eased my grip on the magic, letting her body descend gently until her feet touched the floorboards. My lips curled into a satisfied smile. "See? Cooperation makes everything easier."

My stomach churned as the room tilted sideways, but Rhosyn's words echoed in my mind: "Your bloodline carries the ancient right of judgment." I remembered her telling me how my ancestors once stood as arbiters between realms, their magic a perfect balance of mercy and justice. The weight of that legacy pressed against my chest now as I stared at Carla. Death would be too simple, too quick. Besides, I caught the flicker of something in Amelia's eyes when she looked at her former lover—pain, yes, but not hatred. Not the desire for vengeance that would warrant such finality. No, Carla deserved something that would follow her through the endless nights ahead. I eased my grip just enough for her trembling hands to smooth her disheveled clothing.

"Actions have consequences, Carla," I said, extending both hands toward her, fingers splayed like the points of a star. Behind me, Amelia shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Sookie..." Her voice barely disturbed the air between us. Carla's jaw tightened, but the pulse fluttering at her throat betrayed what her face fought to conceal.

I pulled the ancient words from somewhere deep inside me, each syllable vibrating with power as they left my lips. "By blood and breath, by earth and sky, your craft is bound." My fingers traced glowing sigils in the air between us. "No more shall darkness flow through your hands. No more shall pain become your profit." A golden thread of energy arced from my fingertips to her chest, where it sank beneath her skin. Carla's eyes widened as she felt her magic twist and transform within her—still present, but forever changed.

Amelia's jaw slackened, her eyes wide as she witnessed my improvisation unfold—justice delivered in a form neither of us had planned. I caught her gaze briefly, a silent understanding passing between us. Someone else's Eric, someone else's Sookie could have suffered the same fate we had, defenseless against Carla's spells. The thought of her continuing to sell such destruction for mere cash made my stomach turn. I couldn't walk away and leave that particular powder keg with a lit fuse.

Carla collapsed to the floor, her body folding in on itself as a raw, guttural sound escaped her throat. Her fingers clawed at her face, nails leaving red crescents against her skin.

"You fairy bitch! You'll regret this—" The words tore from her like shrapnel.

I raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't finish that thought. Whatever darkness you speak now will circle back to you before the words even leave your lips."

Lily sat rigid in an armchair outside, flanked by Alcide and Tray. Her face had gone ashen, her knuckles white against the armrests. The heavy fabric doorway hadn't muffled enough.
"I'm so sorry, Lil," Amelia whispered, kneeling before her and clasping her trembling hands. "Take care of yourself."

We fled into the night air, but my body betrayed me before we reached the car. I doubled over on the sidewalk as everything inside me seemed to rebel at once. Bitter acid burned my throat, splashing onto the concrete in violent waves. Alcide's strong hands steadied my shoulders while Amelia gathered my hair away from my face.

"Sookie... breathe," Amelia murmured. "It's over now."

Her cool palm pressed against my forehead, then jerked away. "She's burning up," she announced, rising quickly. "We need to take her back to the hotel, now." She motioned to Alcide, while Tray hovered several paces back, his face averted, shoulders hunched against the sour smell hanging in the night air.

Alcide's arms scooped beneath me, the world tilting as he lifted me into the car. Amelia's cool fingers brushed damp hair from my forehead, her other hand clutching a plastic bag. Then darkness swallowed everything.
I surfaced through layers of sleep to find myself in unfamiliar hotel sheets. Amelia sat beside the bed, her fingers laced through mine, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

"There you are," she whispered, leaning forward. "Back with us?"

My tongue felt thick, useless. "What happened?"

"You collapsed after we left. Your fever spiked so high I could barely touch you. Alcide carried you up here while I worked every cooling charm I knew." She squeezed my hand.

"You've been out for hours."

"You didn't leave."

A tired smile. "Wild horses couldn't have dragged me away. I tried Eric's phone until my battery nearly died. Pam finally answered but couldn't come—sunrise was too close. She wants us to get you back to Shreveport immediately."

"Eric didn't answer?" My voice cracked. The phone in my hand felt impossibly heavy. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The bond between us hummed with wrongness. I closed my eyes and reached through our connection—that invisible cord that had always tethered us together. Where Eric should have been, I found only emptiness. Not Shreveport-distance. Not even New Orleans-distance. Just... nowhere.

I lurched forward, bile rising hot and sudden in my throat. Amelia appeared with a plastic bucket, sliding it beneath my chin just as my stomach heaved.

"Good thing puke doesn't faze me," she said, holding my hair back. "You keep this up, we'll be dealing with dehydration on top of everything else. Any idea what triggered this?"

I tried to speak, but my tongue felt disconnected from my brain. The words scattered before I could gather them. Tears spilled down my cheeks instead, hot and unstoppable, until my eyes swelled nearly shut.

Amelia wrapped her arms around me, anchoring me as tremors racked my body. "We're either going back to Shreveport or to the nearest ER," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

I shook my head weakly against her shoulder. "C-can't do hospital," I whispered. "My blood tests would... they'd know."

Amelia's jaw set with determination as she reached for her phone with her free hand. "Then we're calling Dr. Ludwig. I'll arrange a flight to Shreveport—no way you're enduring a five-hour car ride like this."

"Amelia, my phone," I whispered, fumbling for it with clumsy fingers. "Eric can pick up during daylight hours. Call him. Something's wrong if he's not answering at all."

Amelia's fingers tapped Eric's number as my consciousness slipped away.

I let myself sink into the blackness, praying that dreams might offer what reality withheld. Where our bond should thrum with life lay nothing—like reaching for a doorknob in the dark only to grasp empty air where solid metal should be. Through fights and distance and silence, I'd always felt him there. Now, nothing.

Only one explanation made sense for this void, and when it crystallized in my thoughts, something vital inside me crumpled. If death had truly claimed him, it would soon come for me too.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 20:

"Amelia, my phone," I whispered, fumbling for it with clumsy fingers. "Eric can pick up during daylight hours. Call him. Something's wrong if he's not answering at all."

Amelia's fingers tapped Eric's number as my consciousness slipped away.
I let myself sink into the blackness, praying that dreams might offer what reality withheld. Where our bond should thrum with life lay nothing—like reaching for a doorknob in the dark only to grasp empty air where solid metal should be. Through fights and distance and silence, I'd always felt him there. Now, nothing.
Only one explanation made sense for this void, and when it crystallized in my thoughts, something vital inside me crumpled. If death had truly claimed him, it would soon come for me too.

Chapter 21: Sacrifice

His name tore from my throat like a living thing, ripping through flesh on its way out. "ERIIIIC!" I hurled myself along our bond—that golden lifeline now frayed to gossamer—clawing and thrashing against the darkness threatening to swallow it whole. Blood pounded in my ears as I screamed again, my voice breaking, "ERIIIIIC!" My lungs burned. I would crawl through hell itself to find him. Then—there—a vision slammed into me: a lightless chamber, a single window casting one cruel shaft of moonlight across his body. Eric. Chained. Wounded. My heart stuttered. Not dead. Not yet.

"Eric... Eric..." His name tore from my cracked lips like a prayer, the only cool relief in the inferno of pain scorching through my veins.

"Sook, I'm here, we're almost to Shreveport," Amelia's voice cut through my delirium, her icy palm pressing against my burning forehead.

"Eric—did you—" I seized her wrist with such force she flinched.
Amelia's face crumpled, her eyes darting away from mine. "Nothing," she whispered, the word falling between us like a death sentence. "His phone just rings and rings."

I howled as Amelia's words confirmed what I already knew, the pain slicing through me like a current breaking against rocks. This wasn't just my agony—Eric's suffering poured through whatever remained of our bond.

The plane touched down in Shreveport while the sun still blazed overhead. Alcide and Tray guided me into our house—the home where Eric and I should have been safe together—and settled me in the upstairs guest room. The basement bedroom remained our secret, hidden from people outside our inner circle, and as much as the Were-wolves were our allies now, Eric did not consider them friends.

"Drink this," Amelia murmured, pressing a steaming cup into my trembling hands. The liquid smelled of herbs and magic, but I knew better. No potion existed that could heal what was broken inside me. Only Eric could do that.

The bitter liquid hit my tongue and my throat closed instantly, my body convulsing as I choked it back into the cup.
"I can't—" I pushed the sheets away, swinging my legs over the bed's edge. "Eric needs me now."

Amelia frowned at the thermometer, then held up one finger like a schoolteacher. "Your temperature's normal. I suppose that's something." She slipped an arm around my waist as I stood on trembling legs.

Darkness had fallen by the time we made it downstairs. When I pushed open the library door, Bill and Pam looked up from the ancient texts spread across the mahogany table—they'd clearly spent their daylight hours in our safe room below.

"Where is Eric?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. The room seemed to hold its breath. Pam's phone call to Amelia had been deliberately vague—protecting me while I was away—but that protection had expired the moment I walked through the door.

"Sookie..." Bill's voice remained steady, controlled, while beside him, Pam's face bore the unmistakable tracks of blood tears that had dried during her daylight sleep. "Someone has taken him," he finally said.

Though I'd felt it in the hollow absence where our bond should be, hearing the words aloud turned possibility into certainty. My shoulder hit the wall before I realized I was falling. Amelia caught me as I swayed, and Bill appeared at my other side, his cold fingers steadying my elbow.

"Victor?" The name scraped from my throat as I locked eyes with Pam, whose gaze skittered away from mine, blood-tinged tears threatening to spill again.

"Not him," she whispered, her voice cracking like thin ice. "We'd just returned from Fangtasia when Eric found your... letter." Her pale features hardened, accusation flashing across her face. "He stormed onto the porch and then—" She broke off, fangs partially descended, trembling with a fury I couldn't tell was meant for me or our enemies.
Bill's voice cut in, precise as a surgeon. "Something immobilized us. Like an invisible barrier—the reverse of needing an invitation. We watched helpless as a silver net dropped over Eric. Two figures flanked him. Not vampire. Not Were. Something... we couldn't recognize."

"The Unseelie," I breathed, my hand flying to my heart as the truth clicked into place with terrible certainty. "They took Eric; apparently, Claudine wasn't enough."

My rescue plan for Eric began with a phone call.

"Rhosyn, thank you for coming so quickly." The effort of speaking left me breathless against the sofa cushions.

Rhosyn crossed the room and stopped dead, her ancient eyes widening. "Child, for the gods..." Her gaze traveled over my face, lingering on skin now paper-white where sun had kissed it just days before.

"The Unseelie have Eric." My fingers trembled as Amelia helped me sit upright. "I need to move now."

"Niall knows." Rhosyn's voice softened with what sounded dangerously like pity. "He's tracking both Eric and Claudine. The wisest course is to wait until—"

"NO!" The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "I won't sit here while they have him. Not for one more hour. I did that with Claudine and look where it got us. What's next? Amelia, Jason?" My voice caught on my brother's name. Three Christmas cards returned unopened. The birthday call that went straight to voicemail. The Unseelie wouldn't care about our estrangement—they'd only see the shared blood that made him perfect leverage against me.

I dragged myself across the room on unsteady legs and clutched Rhosyn's sleeve. "Tell me the path to the Unseelie realm."

Rhosyn's eyes flashed. "You're barely standing. The Unseelie would snap you like kindling."

"This weakness isn't a flu," I said, gripping the bedpost to stay upright. "It's the broken bond. Being near him will restore me."

Rhosyn's ancient eyes narrowed. "The path to the Unseelie court exists in my memory, from books, but I've never walked it myself."

"Just directions then. That's all I need." My voice steadied with determination.

"Child." Her cool fingers closed around mine. "If I betray Niall's command by revealing this path..." A shadow crossed her face. "Then I cannot send you alone into that darkness."

A flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Darkness. Of course—the Unseelie Court would be the shadow to Fairy's blinding light. I straightened my shoulders despite the pain. With Rhosyn beside me, I was convinced I had a chance to bring Eric home.

Silence hung over the room until Amelia's voice cut through it. "So I'm just supposed to sit here like bait for whatever comes next?"

Pam's face hardened with resolve. "I'll remain here. Felicia and Clancy can handle Fangtasia while I keep watch through the nights."

"Not alone," Bill said, his voice quiet but firm. "We'll alternate."

Amelia's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Well, that's... better than nothing."

I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white. "Rhosyn, we need to leave now. Every moment we delay—" My voice caught. "I can feel his pain. And I can only imagine Claudine's."

Rhosyn's eyes met mine as she rose. "Yes," she said, tightening the belt of her flowing dress. "Though had I known we'd be storming the Unseelie realm today, I might have worn something more practical." Her attempt at humor did little to dispel the dread that hung in the air like smoke.

"Wait," I said, catching Amelia's gaze before she turned away. "There's something else you should know." My voice dropped lower. "At least in Fairy, time moves differently there. Minutes for me could mean years for you." I swallowed hard against the knot forming in my throat. "I don't think the Unseelie realm works exactly the same way, I haven't felt any time alteration so far, but if it does..." I couldn't finish the thought. The possibility of returning to find everyone I loved aged beyond recognition made my chest ache. "If that happens, the house is yours to watch over. It's the only real home I have left." Amelia's face crumpled. Without a word, she threw her arms around me, her tears dampening my shoulder as she held on like she might never see me again. "I will come back, Ames, that I promise".

Rhosyn's eyes met mine across the room, resignation settling in the ancient lines of her face. She wasn't coming because she believed in my plan—she was coming because she knew the alternative was worse. I'd find my way to the Unseelie realm with or without her guidance, stumbling blind through whatever dark passages existed between worlds. At least this way, she could keep me breathing long enough to reach Eric.

The portal waited in the densest part of our property, where ancient oaks guarded the thinning boundary between worlds. I'd stood there with Eric once before, his fingers laced through mine as we'd felt the veil ripple against our skin.

Pam's cold fingers closed around my wrist as I reached for the door. I turned to find her marble composure shattered, hairline fractures spreading across her face. "Sookie." My name broke between her lips. "Through our bond—I can feel..." She didn't finish, but the crimson ring around her eyes spoke volumes. "Bring him back to us." I pulled her into an embrace, her body rigid with surprise before yielding. No words were necessary; Eric's absence left the same ragged hole in both our hearts.

We returned to the ancient rock where Eric and I had once felt the veil between worlds grow thin beneath our fingertips. The massive stone at its base seemed to pulse with hidden energy in the moonlight.

"The gateway requires words of opening," Rhosyn murmured, her cool fingers sliding around my wrist. "I'll speak them first, then you must echo them precisely. Are you prepared?" My throat tightened with determination. What choice did I have? I gave a single nod. As Rhosyn's lips formed the first syllables of fairy-tongue, I felt the strange new awareness bloom in my mind—the words unfurling their meaning as if I'd known them all my life.

"Snàthainn sgàil is sàmhchair dhomhainn,

Abair an t-slighe a tha an dorchadas a' cumail.

Far a bheil an solas a' bàsachadh agus mionnan air falbh,

Geata gun sealladh — bi mar aon a-nis."

The air exploded around us, not with sound but with power—a violent convulsion that tore through reality itself. My teeth rattled in my skull as every molecule between worlds collided. This wasn't Claudine's gentle shimmer or my own magic's warm pulse—this was primal chaos, a war between elements that threatened to rip me apart. The forest floor slammed against my knees, the impact shooting pain up my spine as frost-burned leaves cut into my palms. The silence that followed crushed my eardrums worse than any scream, broken only by the savage howl of wind that wasn't wind at all, but the breath of something ancient and hungry. The scent hit me like a physical blow—earth and rot and sweetness so intense it burned my nostrils and coated my tongue with the copper taste of old blood and older secrets. Shreveport's night was a child's nightlight compared to this—this was blindness beyond darkness, a void so absolute it consumed light itself, leaving nothing but the terrifying certainty that we were being watched from all sides.

The chaos tore Rhosyn's hand from mine, though I sensed her presence nearby in the darkness.

"Rhosyn?" My voice disappeared into the void like a stone dropped in bottomless water.

"Here." A whisper brushed my ear as fingers found my wrist. Light bloomed between us—a pale blue flame dancing in her palm, casting shadows across her taut features. "Don't stray from me. They need you breathing, but the Unseelie aren't known for their... restraint."

We ascended a path of slick stone that wound toward a fortress hewn from black rock. Unlike the crystalline elegance of Brigant Castle, this structure hunched against the colorless sky, its surfaces weeping with ancient moisture, as though the stone itself were diseased.

With each step toward the fortress, warmth flooded back through the hollow spaces inside me where our bond had been severed. The closer we came to those weeping black walls, the more I could feel Eric's presence unfurling within me like a bloom seeking sunlight, my own strength returning in waves that matched the steady pulse of his existence.

"Rhosyn," I gasped, my voice barely audible over our footfalls on the slick stone path. "The bond—it's pulling me like a compass needle. I know exactly which chamber he's in." Rhosyn's lips curled into a knowing half-smile as she pressed onward without comment.

At first glance, the fortress appeared forsaken – ivy clutched the towers in a death grip while moss cascaded down weathered stone. But as my eyes adjusted, I sensed a peculiar vigilance in its decay. The intact windows reflected nothing, as if they were eyes rather than openings. The atmosphere pressed against my skin with deliberate weight, expanding and contracting like lungs. This wasn't abandonment but cultivation – the Unseelie had nurtured this deterioration, allowing nature to transform their stronghold into something more menacing than any polished palace. They'd created a monument to corruption that held its own terrible allure, like the iridescent shimmer across a pool of venom.

The fortress entrance loomed before us, flanked by two sentinels whose height stretched impossibly against the weeping stone walls.
Rhosyn moved ahead with practiced grace and addressed them in a voice that carried ancient authority: "'S e Rhosyn an t-ainm a th' orm, agus Susan an tè ri mo thaobh. Tha sinn air tighinn a choimhead air Rìgh Ruairi."

I almost flinched at hearing my legal name. The birth certificate said "Susan," but from my first day home, everyone had called me "Sookie." Even my parents never used the name on my official documents. Now Rhosyn was introducing me with a truth so rarely spoken it felt like a lie.

Rhosyn was asking to speak directly with Prince Ruairi. The guards exchanged glances, their silver eyes catching what little light existed, before nodding with synchronized precision. They led us through a maze of corridors where mildew crept between stones like slow-moving fingers and our footsteps echoed in hollow percussion. The great hall revealed itself gradually—first the smell of wet earth and something metallic, then the temperature drop that raised goosebumps along my arms. Massive velvet curtains cascaded from ceiling to floor like frozen waterfalls, their deep purple hue so saturated they seemed to absorb rather than reflect the sputtering torchlight. Tarnished silver hooks held them in place, fashioned to resemble thorned vines that appeared to be slowly strangling the fabric they supported.

The great hall opened to reveal not the enthroned monarch I'd expected, but Ruairi himself standing over a figure crumpled on the stone floor, flanked by two impassive guards.

"Centuries old, and still you haven't learned obedience, Claudine." His voice slithered through the chamber—honey-coated venom that made my spine lock rigid.

Claudine lifted her head, blood at the corner of her mouth. "When Niall finds you, you will be nothing but ashes."

Our escort announced us with a bow. Ruairi's attention shifted, his smile spreading like frost across glass.
"The guest of honor arrives," he purred.

Claudine's gaze found mine, her face draining of color. The silent accusation in her eyes—I've led you into his web—cut deeper than any blade.
As Ruairi turned toward me, ancient recognition flickered between us like a half-remembered dream.

"We seek terms—" Rhosyn stepped forward.

"Still playing diplomat, Rhosyn?" Ruairi cut her off with familiar contempt.

I moved before I could think, placing myself between them. "You're holding two people who don't belong in your realm, Ruairi," I said, my voice carrying an authority I hadn't known I possessed. Behind me, I felt Rhosyn's watchful presence, her tension radiating like heat.

"Such predictable pawns," he said, eyes never leaving mine as his fingers flicked toward the guards. "But pawns do draw out the queen, don't they?"

"One step closer and you'll learn what my light does," I said, palms splayed outward as gold radiance bloomed between my fingers. "I've come for what's mine, nothing more."

"Young lady, we have destroyed lights more powerful than yours. Please, let's stop the games," he said, his voice dropping to a velvet murmur as his gaze slid from my glowing hands to Claudine's bloodied face. "I see you haven't taught her anything."

Rhosyn stepped between us, her voice like silk drawn over steel. "Ruairi, surely we can find common ground here. Your negotiation skills were legendary, once."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "My offer stands unaltered: the fairy and vampire go free, while Sookie remains." His eyes darkened to obsidian as they locked onto mine, pupils expanding until they devoured the iris entirely.

"I certainly won't!" The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Ruairi's fingers snapped once, a sound like a bone breaking. The massive doors groaned open, and two guards dragged in what remained of Eric. My knees nearly buckled. Silver mesh clung to his flesh, sizzling with each involuntary twitch, wisps of smoke curling from where it touched him. Patches of his once-golden hair had burned away to reveal raw, weeping scalp. Through the tatters of his shirt, I could see his skin bubbling, blackening, then healing just enough to bubble again. His head hung forward, but when he sensed me, he forced it up. The whites of his eyes had flooded crimson, like someone had replaced his tears with blood. His lips parted, perhaps to speak my name, but all that emerged was a rattling exhale as he slumped against his captors' grip.

Our bond surged like a live wire, electrifying every cell in my body. His emotions crashed through me in violent waves—guilt that threatened to drown me, rage that scorched my veins, sorrow that hollowed my bones, and pain—dear God, the pain—it ripped through me like thousands of serrated blades. And beneath it all, a flicker of something I'd never felt from Eric before: surrender. My Viking, my warrior, was yielding to the true death. The silver mesh wasn't just burning him; it was devouring him alive, eating through layers of immortal flesh that blackened and bubbled before my eyes. I'd seen vampires punished with silver before—chained for decades as their bodies slowly disintegrated, their screams eventually fading to whimpers. Only massive transfusions of human blood—rich, living blood, not that synthetic swill—could save him now. My blood. I could feel it thrumming beneath my skin, the power to heal him pulsing through my veins. But first I had to get to him, and I had absolutely no fucking plan. I was flying blind into hell itself. If—when—we survived this, Eric would definitely scolded me for my recklessness.

"Eric..." His name escaped me like a prayer, though my throat felt filled with broken glass. The taste of copper flooded my mouth—I'd bitten my tongue without realizing.

"There is another option..." Ruairi's voice slithered through the chamber. "You don't stay, but only one of them leaves here with you."

My heart slammed against my ribs so violently I thought it might shatter. The world narrowed to pinpricks of light as darkness crowded my vision.
"I CAN'T!" I screamed, the sound tearing from somewhere primal inside me. My gaze ricocheted between them—Eric's ravaged body, Claudine's pleading eyes, Ruairi's cruel smile. "I WON'T!"

"Then you stay." His words fell like an executioner's ax.

"Ruairi," Rhosyn's voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade. "You're dancing on the edge of war. Sookie is Niall's blood, a Brigant princess. The last time you crossed that line—"
"She bears the Veil," he hissed, eyes flashing like struck flint. "The ancient laws demand it."

"Laws YOU twisted to serve your purpose!" Rhosyn's power crackled around her like lightning. "She's barely touched her heritage—she lives among humans!"

My fingertips burned white-hot, power building beneath my skin like a gathering storm. Rhosyn was sugarcoating my power– she and I knew perfectly well I could be a deadly threat to the Unseelie. Only I hadn't decided to become an assassin yet. Maybe today would be the turning point.

My mind raced between impossible choices, each more unbearable than the last. Save Claudine and watch Eric –the love of my life– die in agony? The thought alone made bile rise in my throat. Take Eric and abandon Claudine to centuries of torture? My fairy godmother who'd protected me since childhood? I looked at Eric, his blood-filled eyes barely open yet somehow still finding mine across the chamber. Our bond vibrated with his fading strength. I pushed all the love I had through it while another part of me calculated how quickly I could reach Claudine, whether I could somehow grab them both. My hands trembled, my light flickering unstably between my fingers. If I chose wrong, could I live with myself? If I hesitated too long, would I lose them both? I locked eyes with Claudine, and wished she could read my mind so much that maybe it worked, because somehow I caught her attention.

I locked eyes with Claudine, willing her to understand my desperation. "We're out of options, there's only one way I see this ending…" I told her in my mind.

Her chin lifted slightly. "He's almost here," she replied, her eyes darting meaningfully upward.
"Niall?"

She gave the faintest nod, her gaze never wavering from mine. I couldn't sense my fairy great-grandfather's approach the way she could, but in that moment, I gambled everything on the certainty in her eyes.

I smoothed my face into a mask of indecision, buying precious seconds. "Hypothetically speaking, Ruairi," I said, my voice steadier than my racing heart, "what fate awaits Claudine should I leave with Eric?"

"You'd abandon your fairy godmother for a vampire? Our natural enemy?" Ruairi's lip curled in disgust, his words dripping with calculated scorn. The emotional manipulation might have worked once, but I'd spent years watching Eric bend others to his will with similar tactics. I met Ruairi's gaze without flinching.

"Would you spare her life?"

"Life remains an option for those who... behave," he said, teeth flashing at Claudine like a predator's warning.

"And her quality of life? Torture? Centuries locked away?"

"Such persistent inquiries, Sookie. Your choice grows urgent."

"I need facts before committing."

"Perhaps you require motivation." His voice lifted. "Rowan?" The name alone sent ice through my veins. Rowan—the same creature who'd stood watching as flames devoured my childhood home in Bon Temps, reducing generations of Stackhouse memories to cinders. The monster who'd stolen the last physical connections to my gran.

The door swung open as Rowan sauntered in, cradling what looked like a sawed-off shotgun against his chest. His lips curled into a mocking smile that never reached his eyes. I tracked his every movement as he glided to Ruairi's side, my gaze locked on him like a predator.

"Would you care to demonstrate, brother?" Ruairi purred. Rowan's smile stretched wider, revealing too-perfect teeth as he turned toward Eric's crumpled form.

"NO!" The word tore from my throat. Ruairi's finger shot up in warning, and Rhosyn's hands clamped around my biceps, her grip like iron as my body lunged forward of its own accord, every muscle straining to reach the fairy who'd destroyed my home.

Ruairi circled Eric like a curator explaining a prized exhibit while Rowan positioned himself with the weapon. "Vampires have hunted our kind since time immemorial," he said, his voice almost scholarly. "They find us... intoxicating." His eyes flicked to mine. "And I can't understand how you've survived this long sharing a bed with one." He gestured lazily, and the guards released Eric from his bonds. "Silver is our greatest ally—it doesn't kill them outright, you see. It consumes them cell by cell, draining their strength until they're as helpless as newborns." Eric slumped forward, barely able to support his own weight. Rhosyn's fingers dug deeper into my arms. In my mind, Claudine's voice pleaded for patience—Niall is coming—but her reassurance felt hollow as Rowan raised the weapon. "This," Ruairi continued, tapping the barrel almost lovingly, "contains liquid silver that disperses on impact. One shot, and your Viking will experience agony beyond even his considerable imagination."

"ENOUGH!" The word tore from my throat like something alive.

Claudine's voice hammered against my skull—Wait, wait, wait—while Eric's eyes found mine across the room, silently pleading with me not to sacrifice myself.

Ruairi's gaze slid to mine, cold and expectant. "Your decision?"

"I stay," I said, my voice steadier than my heartbeat. "They both leave unharmed."

Claudine's head tilted back, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if reading invisible text. "Sookie," she thought, "you impossible, stubborn girl."

Across the room, Eric's bloodshot eyes locked with mine, widening in horror. His lips parted but no sound emerged. Through our bond came a tsunami of emotion—his terror wasn't for himself but for me, crashing against the jagged rocks of his helpless fury.

Ruairi's eyes narrowed to silver slits.

"A noble sentiment," he said, his voice soft as falling snow. "But I find myself... unconvinced." His pale fingers flicked toward Rowan, a gesture as casual as brushing away a fly, and Rowan shot.

A/N: For the ancestral language of the fairies, I used Scottish Gaelic.

Chapter Text

A/N: New chapter. I really liked this one, but honestly, I've created so much mythology in this story that it's taking me twice as long to write as the other one. Still, I love it.

Recap Chapter 21:

Ruairi's gaze slid to mine, cold and expectant. "Your decision?"

"I stay," I said, my voice steadier than my heartbeat. "They leave unharmed."

Claudine's head tilted back, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if reading invisible text. "Sookie," she thought, "you impossible, stubborn girl."

Across the room, Eric's bloodshot eyes locked with mine, widening in horror. His lips parted but no sound emerged. Through our bond came a tsunami of emotion—his terror wasn't for himself but for me, crashing against the jagged rocks of his helpless fury.

Ruairi's eyes narrowed to silver slits.
"A noble sentiment," he said, his voice soft as falling snow. "But I find myself... unconvinced." His pale fingers flicked toward Rowen, a gesture as casual as brushing away a fly, and Rowen shot.

Chapter 22: The Escape

The silver bullet tore through Eric's chest, a metallic flash followed by a sickening hiss as liquid silver dispersed beneath his skin. His body convulsed once, violently, before collapsing. His eyes rolled back, jaw locked in a silent scream.

A phantom agony ripped through my own chest. I crumpled to my knees, our bond transmitting his torture directly into my nervous system.
"Fascinating," Ruairi whispered, crouching to study my face. "The blood bond is real."

Tears scalded my cheeks as I fought to remain conscious. Through blurred vision, I saw Eric's body had gone terrifyingly still—none of his habitual fake breathing, no twitching limbs. Just absolute stillness that vampires only display when truly incapacitated.

I dragged myself upright, legs trembling beneath me, only to realize the moment for action had slipped through my fingers like water. The pain radiating through my chest left me hollow, my limbs leaden weights I could barely command.

Claudine's voice sliced through my pain. "Sookie... Niall has arrived."

A flutter of hope sparked in my chest—too late to heed her earlier warnings.
The shift in my expression betrayed me. Ruairi's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl as he barked orders to his men. Just as Niall and his fairy warriors shimmered into existence at the entrance, Ruairi's guards seized me, yanking me backward against cold, unyielding arms.

Rhosyn was nowhere to be seen—probably another prisoner swallowed by Ruairi's ranks. My fingertips tingled with the faint spark of my ancestral magic, but it flickered like a dying ember. I needed time to coax it back to life.

"Ruairi!" Niall's voice split the air like lightning. The chamber trembled, dust raining from ancient rafters. "Release my kin NOW."

Ruairi's lips peeled back, revealing teeth too sharp for any human mouth. "Niall," he purred, "still making demands you can't enforce."

His fingers snapped—bone cracking against bone—and his guards lunged forward, weapons drawn. The nearest fairy soldier's head separated from his shoulders before he could scream.

Niall's hands thrust skyward. Light erupted between his palms with such ferocity that Sookie's retinas burned. The radiance hardened into a shield just as Ruairi's soldiers crashed against it. Bodies flew backward, skin blistering on contact.

Ruairi howled, fingers contorting into claws. Violet energy—putrid and wrong—ripped from his hands, slamming into Niall's barrier. The collision shook the foundation, cracks spiderwebbing across the floor beneath their feet.

"Sookie." Claudine's whisper threaded through my consciousness. "Don't fight the weakness—channel it." She paused, then continued with quiet urgency. "The power in your blood eclipses both Niall and Ruairi. Only you can turn this tide.". My eyes darted around the chaos, searching for her familiar form, but found nothing. Still, that velvet-steel tone was unmistakable, and something in me responded to its certainty.

Violet and silver light crackled overhead as Niall and Ruairi battled, while my captors' fingers dug into my biceps. Across the room, Rowen kept his silver-loaded weapon trained on Eric's motionless form. I closed my eyes, letting Claudine's words echo through me. The weakness in my limbs wasn't failure—it was an opening.

Behind my eyelids, a vision formed: a woman with ancient eyes and flowers woven into her hair—Seedmother. Then another figure materialized beside her—Eric's grandmother, and Eric's sister, their faces stern yet kind. More women appeared, each with the same luminous quality beneath their skin, forming a chain that stretched back through centuries. Their power flowed from one to the next like water finding its path downriver.

Then came the touch I'd know anywhere—gentle hands on my shoulders, carrying the scent of peach shampoo and summer afternoons. Mom. Understanding bloomed within me: this gift had never traveled through men. It lived in daughters, sisters, mothers, grandmothers —women who protected it through ages of darkness. Probably without even knowing it.

The realization settled in my bones: I was the culmination of their sacrifice, the vessel chosen to heal what the Unseelie had broken millennia ago.

I stood at the fulcrum of an ancient mistake. Somehow, the Veiled had created me to eradicate what they themselves had wrought when they carved away their own darkness and cast it into the Unseelie. Nature demands balance: day needs night, light craves shadow, every rise promises a fall, there's no good without evil. Their quest for purity had birthed its opposite, and now the scales trembled, waiting for correction.

Power surged through me in waves, the collective strength of generations flowing into my veins. Behind me stretched a lineage of women who had carried this gift unknowingly, each one a link in the chain that led to this moment. As I drew breath for what might be the last time, I felt my mother's chin rest gently on my left shoulder.
"I'm proud of you, pumpkin," she whispered.

It was all I needed.

Heat bloomed in my core, a golden radiance spreading through my veins like wildfire. The guards holding me flinched as my skin grew hot beneath their fingers, luminescence seeping through my pores like sweat.

Ruairi stood just fifteen feet away. I had seconds before someone alerted him.
My hands trembled at my sides, palms outward. I aligned them toward him like twin compasses finding magnetic north, channeling the ancestral power that hummed in my blood.

The human part of me hesitated—I'd never deliberately wanted to end a life. But in this moment, I wasn't Sookie Stackhouse, waitress from Bon Temps. I was the heir to both Brigant and Veiled legacies, the culmination of an ancient bloodline.
I released the light in a blinding surge, fueled by visions of the suffering he'd caused: Eric's silver-scorched body, Claudine's tortured face, Niall's straining shield that had bought me these precious seconds. I understood now why it had to be me.

I unleashed my power, the golden light exploding from my palms with the same lethal intent Rowen had shown when he'd put the love of my life on the ground just minutes ago.

Ruairi pivoted toward me, his ancient eyes widening in recognition of what was coming. The golden light erupted from my hands, engulfing him in a blinding cocoon that pulsed and expanded until none of us could see through its brilliance. When it finally receded, acrid smoke hung in the air, and where Ruairi had stood moments before lay nothing but empty clothes collapsed upon themselves like a shed skin. A raw, guttural sound tore through the silence—Rowen's cry of anguish for his fallen brother. Before his grief could transform into vengeance, I redirected my power toward Ruairi's advancing soldiers, their loyalty outlasting their prince. After the fifth flash faded and the last body fell, I scanned the chaos for Rowen, but he had vanished like morning mist.

Rowen's escape left a bitter taste in my mouth. The Unseelie were a plague that needed eradication—I understood that now with bone-deep certainty. But my power had already consumed Ruairi and his soldiers; it was Niall's turn. With a nod to my great-grandfather, his warriors descended upon our captors in a blur of silver light and deadly precision. The moment their grip loosened from my arms, I stumbled across the chamber toward Eric's motionless form.

"Eric," I whispered, my hands trembling as I shook his shoulders. "Eric, please." My eyes darted around the room for threats before I dragged his limp form into the corner. With a quick slice across my wrist, I pressed the bleeding wound to his pale lips, squeezing my arm to force the blood into his mouth.

His body lay rigid beneath my touch, yet his skin radiated an unnatural heat that shouldn't exist in any vampire. Silver poisoning—burning through his veins, searing him from within until his mind had retreated from the agony, leaving only this terrible stillness behind.

"Eric, baby, please," I choked through tears, "take my blood." When he remained still, I pressed my right palm against his chest, my left wrist still dripping against his lips. The golden light flowed from my fingertips, seeking the silver poison in his veins like water finding cracks in stone. It illuminated him from within, transforming his pale form into a beacon that drew every eye in the chamber.

His eyes flew open, blue and wild with pain. A scream tore from his throat before his fangs descended and found my wrist. He drank with desperate, animal need, each pull drawing life from me into him. I felt light-headed but unafraid; our bond hummed between us, a safeguard stronger than his hunger. I surrendered more than I ever had before, watching some color return to his face with each swallow.

Eric's fangs retracted with a soft click as he pulled away from my wrist. The wound there throbbed, but I barely noticed it as color returned to his ashen face. He leaned back against the wall, his shoulders straightening with renewed strength.

"Sookie..." Blood-tinged tears rimmed his blue eyes. "You–"
I pressed my fingertips to his lips before he could finish. The lecture about sacrifice and danger would have to wait.
"You can scold me later, baby" I whispered, my thumb tracing his jawline. "Wait here, I need to find Claudine."

The chamber fell quiet. Across the room, Niall cradled Claudine's elbow, steadying her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Purple-black bruises bloomed across her exposed skin like ink dropped in water. My vision blurred as I crossed the distance between us, my arms encircling her before I could speak.
"I should have come sooner," I whispered into her hair, my voice breaking.

Claudine's laugh was fragile but genuine. "Stubborn as ever, Sookie. You arrived exactly when you needed to." She leaned back, her eyes finding mine despite her weakness. "You did what none of us could."

"The blood of the Brigant and Veiled flows strong in you," Niall murmured, his ancient hand resting lightly on my shoulder. "I'm proud of you, granddaughter".

"But Rowen is still out there—" My words faltered as exhaustion crashed over me like a wave.

Rhosyn emerged from the corner of the chamber, pristine amid our bloodied company. "Tomorrow's battle can wait. Tonight, you've earned your peace."

Rhosyn was right. Tomorrow would bring its own battles. I gathered what remained of my strength, focusing on home—our sanctuary. With a nod of farewell, Niall, Rhosyn, and Claudine vanished in a shimmer of light back to Fairy. I wrapped my arms around Eric's waist, closed my eyes, and pulled us through the fabric between worlds.
The familiar scent of our living room enveloped us as we materialized. Sunlight streamed through the open curtains, casting long rectangles across the hardwood floor. Eric didn't flinch—thank heaven for his newfound sun-resistance.

"Mon dieu! Mr. Eric! Mrs. Sookie!" Colette's voice came from behind, her accent thickening with surprise.

I managed a weak smile. "Colette, would you mind bringing some tea? And perhaps TruBlood for Eric?" Though I knew only human blood would truly heal him, the familiar ritual of sharing drinks seemed important somehow.

"SOOKIE?!" Amelia's voice echoed from the library before she burst into the room, nearly tackling me with her embrace. "You're here, you're safe," she whispered against my hair, her hands gripping my shoulders. "The goddesses heard me."

Standing in our sun-drenched living room, the weight of what I'd done settled over me. I had obliterated Ruairi and his soldiers with nothing but light from my hands. Only Rowen had slipped away, a loose thread in an otherwise perfect execution.

I guided Eric to the sofa after Amelia released me from her bear hug. Her eyes widened as she took in his condition—better than the silver-scorched wreck I'd rescued, but nowhere near his usual imposing self. The angry red burns still mapped his pale skin like constellations, despite my blood flowing through him.

Colette appeared with a steaming mug of tea and a warmed TruBlood. Eric's fingers curled around the synthetic blood with visible reluctance, his lips barely touching the rim.

"So what happened?" Amelia leaned forward, elbows on knees.
I gave her the cliff notes version, my voice flat. Some memories were too raw to revisit—offering myself as bait, watching silver bullets tear through Eric, feeling his agony echo through our bond.

"And Rowen just vanished?" Amelia's brow furrowed.

"Yeah. But Rhosyn thinks we've earned a breather." I massaged my temples. "Honestly, I'm grateful."

"No kidding." Her gaze lingered on Eric's burns. "You both need rest. You're in no condition to tempt your sun-resistance, you know."

I stroked Eric's forearm, careful to avoid the worst burns. "She's right, baby. You should lie down."

"I don't need coddling," Eric straightened his shoulders, wincing slightly. "You've done enough already."

I caught Amelia's eye and rolled mine. There he was—my thousand-year-old Viking with the pride of ten men.

"I know, but we need you at full strength." My vampire loved to feel needed.

Eric's eyes met mine with a silent message that needed no translation. The only remedy that would truly heal him couldn't happen with Amelia watching. Not that Eric would mind an audience, but some things I preferred to be sacred between us.

"Amelia, would you excuse me for a few minutes?" I kept my voice casual. "I'll be right back."
She nodded, already backing toward the kitchen.

In our bedroom, Eric's façade crumbled. He sank onto the mattress, his shoulders slumping with a vulnerability I'd witnessed only in our most desperate hours.
"Come here," I whispered, perching beside him and offering my wrist.

His fingers circled my arm, pushing it gently away. "Lover, you've given me enough."

"And you know I have plenty to spare," I countered, pressing my pulse against his lips. "Don't argue with me, Viking."

The vein at my wrist jumped beneath his gaze. His tongue traced his bottom lip, fangs descending despite his resistance.

"We'll exchange, if that makes you feel better" I said softly. "So I stay strong too."

"Deal" he murmured, surrender in his voice, fingers encircling my wrist.

We drank from each other in silence, the familiar electricity humming between us, desire set aside for healing. Not now, I reminded myself, even as my body was boiling with want. Later.

Within moments, his eyelids grew heavy, his body surrendering to daylight's pull. I tucked a blanket around him, pressed my lips to his cool forehead, and slipped from the darkened room.

I found Amelia in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as the coffee maker gurgled and hissed. The rich aroma filled the air, a stark contrast to the delicate floral scent of my tea.

"I thought proper Southern ladies drank sweet tea," I teased, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table.

Amelia smirked. "And I thought proper Southern ladies didn't date dead guys with fangs."

I exhaled heavily, my momentary lightness evaporating.

"Talk to me," Amelia said, abandoning her coffee to sit across from me.

"It's Rowen's escape. He just vanished," I whispered, my fingers trembling against the teacup.

"Don't all fairies just pop in and out whenever they want?"

I shook my head. "This was different. Too... calculated. Like someone warned him."

"But who could have tipped him off? Everyone else was captured or literally in battle."

My stomach knotted. "Were they, though?" The question hung between us, heavier now that I'd spoken it aloud. An image flashed in my mind—familiar eyes, watching from shadows.

"There's someone…" A chill crawled up my spine. "No," I whispered. "She wouldn't betray us. Would she?"

Chapter Text

A/N: All EPOV chapter. I like to delve into his emotions.

These characters (except for the ones created by me) belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. I make no claim of ownership. This is a work of fan fiction created purely for enjoyment, and I am only playing with the stories a little bit.

Chapter 23: The Summons

EPOV

The familiar contours of my own bed cradled me through daylight paralysis. Sookie had rescued me when I lay helpless—a debt no amount of silver or threat of final death could prevent me from repaying. Her face floated in my memory: fierce determination as she shattered my prison, tender focus as her light and blood flowed into my wounds. All the things I've seen in this world, and still this human-fairy hybrid humbled me.

Ruairi's torture receded like tide marks from my thoughts. His soldiers were nothing but ash now, their leader obliterated by Sookie with an almost casual display of power. Soon, she would rival vampires three times my age.

Pain mapped itself across my body—molten coals beneath my ribs, skin stretched too tight across my back, joints hollowed by fire. Despite her generosity, I would need Pam's blood to complete my healing. I mentally composed the text I would send her once twilight freed me from this stasis.

I assessed our situation with cold calculation. Rowen no longer posed an immediate threat—although he had witnessed his own brother and prince reduce to atoms with barely a flicker of effort from Sookie. Even creatures as ancient and terrible as the Unseelie understand self-preservation. Victor remained the more pressing concern. That serpent had gone to ground somewhere in Louisiana, coiled and waiting, his fangs still dripping with whatever dark magic he'd acquired in New Orleans.

I was having trouble anticipating Victor's moves because I hadn't seen his alliance with the dark arts coming. Sookie and I hadn't had time to talk about her trip to New Orleans. The only thing I could think of for now was to find Victor before he found us, and for that, I would need a good tracker: Bill. Also, a good excuse to keep him away from Sookie.

Next on the agenda: the Southern States Summit loomed just two weeks away—the first since Rhodes. Unlike the National gathering where all fifty monarchs converged with their entourages, this regional affair would host only fourteen kingdoms. Still, the hotel would crawl with vampires, their lieutenants and sheriffs filling every shadow. I had marked Sookie's name on the attendance roster months ago, then wavered as Victor's schemes intensified and Felipe turned a blind eye to his sheriff's treachery. But after witnessing my wife's display of power mere hours ago, my concerns evaporated like morning mist. Let them try to harm her now—even surrounded by fifty of our kind, she would stand untouchable. And should any fool attempt it regardless, vampire law stood firmly on our side: she was mine in the eyes of our ancient law.

She still needed the human ceremony to considered herself my wife completely—the white dress, the flowers, the vows spoken beneath Louisiana moon. That mattered to Sookie. But that would have to wait; she deserved the full pageantry of her mortal traditions, planned without the shadow of danger hanging over us. Perhaps she'd want a fairy ritual too. I'd pledge myself to her a thousand different ways if each one brought that smile to her face.

The sun lingered stubbornly on the horizon, mocking my imprisonment in daylight paralysis. I willed my limbs to move, craving the sun resistance that Sookie's blood typically granted me, but found only stillness. Time crawled while threats multiplied. I tried focusing on strategy, on Victor's weaknesses, but my concentration shattered at the whisper of the shower down the hall. A delicate trace of honey wafted through the bedroom—that new bath oil she'd splurged on, perhaps.
Cruel irony. After months of gradually conquering the sun's hold, building tolerance minute by precious minute, I lay here useless while she stood naked under cascading water only steps away. My mind could imagine every glistening droplet on her skin, yet my body remained stone—well, most of it.

The shower's hiss fell silent. Soft footfalls padded across tile, followed by the subtle rustle of terry cloth against damp skin. My imagination tortured me with each sound—her movements through the bathroom, the whisper of her approach down the hallway. She paused beside the bed, and I sensed her gaze upon me.

"Look at you," she whispered, her voice warm as southern sunlight. "Even dead for the day and still having pleasant thoughts." A soft laugh escaped her lips. "Better be dreaming about me, vampire, or you're gonna be in big trouble." The cotton sheet drifted down over my body like a snowfall, her fingertips grazing the fabric just above where I strained against it before she pulled away.

My thoughts belonged only to her—my most exquisite obsession. I'd spent a millennium collecting memories of beauty, yet nothing compared to the curve of her smile when she thought no one was watching, the fathomless blue of her eyes when she challenged me, the sunlight trapped in each strand of her hair. Even now, paralyzed, I could recall the precise weight of her against my chest, the impossible softness where her waist flared to hip, the perfect geometry of her form as she moved. And beneath it all, that crimson nectar that sang to me like no other in my endless existence.

"Shh, I know," she whispered, the mattress dipping as her warmth settled beside me. "I'll be right here when you wake."
Her proximity was causing me more pain than the remaining silver in my body—her heartbeat, her scent, her breath against my ear. Trapped in daylight's prison while paradise lay just inches away.

When I finally wake up at night, I will have to exercise all my self-control to avoid throwing myself on top of her and draining her completely.

My thoughts gradually slowed until darkness claimed me completely. Then, as the last crimson threads of sunset unraveled from the sky, sensation returned—first to my eyelids, then outward through my limbs as day slumber retreated like an ebbing tide.

"Hi, you," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "Back among the undead yet?"

My limbs felt leaden, strength still returning, but I pulled her close enough to trace the honey-scented path from her hair to the hollow of her throat with my lips, hovering over her breasts, where her life thrummed beneath delicate skin.

Her laughter cascaded like bells, but concern shadowed her eyes as she pressed her palms against my chest.

"Eric, enough," she murmured, twisting in my iron embrace. "You're still healing."

I released her with a reluctant sigh and propped myself against the headboard. "Such cruelty," I said, voice rough as I patted the sheets for my phone.

"Already taken care of," she said, a smile playing at her lips. "Pam's probably reading my text right now."

I arched an eyebrow. "Telepathy extends to vampires now?"

"No need for mind-reading," she replied, fingers tracing idle patterns on the sheet between us. "I know you won't take more of my blood—though the offer stands—and Pam's the logical alternative for your recovery."

"I suppose I should clean up before Pam arrives," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

"Need a steadying hand?" Her eyes met mine, that particular look that had thrown me to my knees before.

She stood at the edge of the tub, keeping a careful distance as she guided the soapy sponge across my shoulders and down my chest. Her eyes never left mine, a knowing half-smile playing at her lips as she worked—the perfect balance of tenderness and restraint that only she had ever mastered with me.

"Perhaps I should court true death more frequently," I said, watching her hands move across my skin. "The aftermath has its rewards."

Her fingers stilled against my chest. "If you're trying to make me laugh, it's not working. I thought I was watching you die."

I caught her wrist. "And you—offering yourself to those creatures. For me and Claudine? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you were pinned down with silver and bleeding out." She met my gaze, chin lifting slightly. "And I'd make the same choice tomorrow."

I snorted and smiled, my fingers finding hers beneath the water. The argument died in my throat. In the same situation, I would have thrown it all away in an instant to save her. Our eyes met, and I saw the same truth reflected there— we knew neither of us would linger long in a world without the other. Such force was the bond.

"Bill needs to be brought in today as well," I said, stepping from the tub and securing a towel at my hips. Water beaded down my chest as Sookie rummaged through the cabinet.

"What for?" She emerged with the hair dryer and that expensive cream I pretended to dislike. Her fingers brushed my shoulder, guiding me to the vanity stool.

"Victor. Bill tracks better than anyone I have in the area. We need eyes on all his movements and associates." The hair dryer hummed to life. Her reflection met mine in the mirror as she worked, her touch both possessive and gentle.

"Also, the Southern summit approaches," I said, watching her hands move through my hair. "Two weeks."

"Having second thoughts about my attendance?"

"Never. But your abilities..." I chose my words carefully. "They should remain our advantage. Could Rhosyn help refine your control before then?"
The dryer fell silent. I turned to face her directly.

"I'm reconsidering Rhosyn's involvement," she said, her expression hardening.

My eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Rowen's escape was too convenient. He reacted the instant I moved—before I even completed the thought. And Rhosyn?" Her eyes narrowed. "Conspicuously absent when I searched for her. I checked, Eric. She was gone before anything happened and back just when everything ended."

"Niall should be informed," I said, watching her reflection in the mirror.

"I'll reach out to him after I speak with Claudine," she replied, setting the hair dryer aside. "Fairy healing is remarkable, but some wounds don't show on the skin." Her eyes sought mine in the glass, a question hovering unspoken.

I shook my head slightly. "They kept us separated. By the time I arrived, the silver had already done its part on my …" I let the sentence trail off.

"I should visit Fairy," she said, fingers stilling against my shoulder. "Just for a day or two. Check on Claudine, speak with Niall directly."

"Absolutely not." The words came out harder than intended.

Her hand dropped away. "Eric, we've talked about this. It's my family too."

"The Summit is in two weeks," I reminded her, turning to face her directly. "A day in Fairy could mean months here. Would you have me wait alone for months or even years while you're gone mere hours?"

She inhaled sharply, eyes closing as she pressed her lips together. That familiar tension in her jaw told me everything—rage barely contained, tears threatening to spill.

"Besides," I said, voice dropping to a near-whisper, "you know what happens when our bond stretches too thin."

I reached for her chin, trying to tilt her face toward mine, but she angled away, focusing on a spot beyond my shoulder. The unspoken truth hung between us—how separation sickness would leave us both fevered and hallucinating if she crossed between realms. She pressed her lips together, switched off the dryer with a decisive click, and ran her fingers through my hair one final time before walking out without another word.

I watched her go, remembering centuries of feminine determination, yet even among the most willful mortal –and vampire– women I'd known, none rivaled the unyielding resolve of a fairy with her mind set.

Sookie stood at the kitchen counter, the kettle's steam rising as she prepared tea. In the adjacent room, Amelia's attention remained fixed on some reality program. The witch's presence in our home was tolerable—necessary even, given the danger that had found its way to Sookie's circle.

The front door rattled with Pam's characteristic lack of restraint. Before I could rise from my armchair, Sookie had already crossed the room to answer it.

"ERIC!" Pam burst through the doorway, her usual composure abandoned. "You're whole! You're undestroyed!"

Sookie's lips tightened into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Evening, Pam. Our home is yours," she murmured, stepping aside.

I raised an eyebrow. "Decorum, Pamela. I recall decades of instruction on the matter."

Pam assessed me with a clinical gaze, then settled onto my lap with practiced efficiency, already tilting her neck to one side.
Through our bond, I felt the sharp spike of Sookie's emotion—a complex tangle of territorial instinct and wounded pride.

I placed my hands on Pam's shoulders, gently creating distance. "The situation isn't critical," I said. "The office would be more appropriate."
A flush crept up Sookie's neck, her heartbeat accelerating in that telling human way.

"Lover, would you join us? Your comfort matters to me," I said, watching the conflict play across her features.

"No, I just—" She stopped, the flush deepening across her collarbone.

I caught the echo of her thoughts through our bond—images of Pam's fangs at my throat, of decades before Sookie was born. The blood exchange between maker and child carried intimacies humans struggled to comprehend. What Sookie couldn't sense was how that particular fire had cooled to embers long ago.

Pam rolled her eyes slightly. "Really, Sookie. That ship sailed sometime during the Carter administration."

"Ford, actually," I corrected, watching Sookie's pulse flutter at her throat.

She crossed her arms, her smile tight. "I understand. It's just—"

The words died on her lips as her gaze dropped to the floor. I caught the scent of salt before tears could form.

In a heartbeat, I stood before her, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone while my other hand settled at the small of her back, drawing her closer.

"It's only been you, the only one I've wanted, for a long time now." I murmured against her hair. "Min älskade." Her shoulders relaxed beneath my touch, the bond between us warming.

Pamela and I retreated to the office where she offered her wrist without ceremony. I drank just enough to restore my strength, counting the seconds until we could return. The exchange felt clinical, nothing like the intimacy Sookie had feared.

Five minutes later, back in the living room, Pam settled into an armchair, one eyebrow arched expectantly. "So. You're gonna tell me what happened?"

"Your theatrical entrance earlier hardly left room for explanations," I replied.

Sookie recounted the events with measured precision, her voice steady even as she detailed her suspicions about Rhosyn's betrayal. Only I could see how her fingers tensed against her thigh when she spoke the fairy's name, how the corners of her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. The bond between us hummed with the particular ache of trust broken—a wound she displayed to no one but me.

"I still think I should visit Fairy to check on Claudine and—"

"Terrible idea" Pam cut in, her British accent completely abandoned for flat American vowels.

Sookie's shoulders stiffened, her eyes widening at the command in Pam's voice.

"We've already discussed this," I said, meeting Sookie's gaze. She exhaled slowly through her nose and turned toward the window. "Our priority," I continued, redirecting the conversation, "is locating Victor and monitoring his activities before the Summit."

"I assume you called Bill?" Pam asked.

"Expected here any moment now."

The sharp click of Amelia's footsteps interrupted our conversation. She stood clutching something between her fingers, her face drained of color.

"Sookie," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sookie crossed the room in three quick strides. The paper trembled as it passed between them.

"It just... materialized," Amelia murmured. "Right before my eyes."

As Sookie unfolded it, the scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air. I felt her pulse quicken through our bond before she even looked up.
Fairy had called for her.

"FUCK THEM!" I thought I had thought it, but it came out loud.

Chapter Text

A/N: This chapter is shorter, more precise, and gets straight to the point. The next one will explain what the hell is going on while Sookie is in Fairy and will answer many questions.

Recap Chapter 23:

As Sookie unfolded it, the scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air. I felt her pulse quicken through our bond before she even looked up.
Fairy had called for her.

Fuck them – I thought.

Chapter 24: Refugee

SPOV

I stared at the jasmine-scented summons in my hand. Taking down Ruairi wasn't just another Tuesday in Bon Temps—I'd obliterated a creature who'd terrorized the Fae for centuries. Great-grandfather Niall hadn't called me in for a scolding; this was more like being asked to brief the Joint Chiefs after single-handedly winning a war. The Fae court needed to regroup, strategize about the remaining Unseelie threat.
That part didn't frighten me. What knotted my stomach was the same fear I felt radiating through my bond with Eric—time. Fairy hours could be Earth weeks. Earth days could be Fairy minutes. I might step through that portal and return to find Eric hollow-eyed from a century without me. All I could do was beg Niall to keep the meeting short.

Eric's face tightened as he crossed the room toward me. "Don't do this," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I folded the jasmine-scented paper between my fingers and I met his gaze, refusing to look away. "Eric, the biggest enemy of my Fae family has been destroyed, we need to talk about this together, they need me too" I turned my hands to catch his, but his eyes had gone distant.

"Sookie," Eric's voice caught, "the Summit begins in fourteen nights. Victor will be watching for any weakness." His fingers tightened around mine.

I squeezed back. "Two weeks away from Victor's spies might actually work in our favor." I traced the line of his jaw with my free hand. "And I swear on my grandmother's grave, I'll find a way to be back before you leave for the Summit."

I decided to leave with just the clothes on my back—no sense packing for what should be a quick visit.
I caught Amelia's eye and tilted my head toward the hallway. Once we were alone in the guest room, she muttered an incantation and traced a glowing symbol on the door.
"What's up?" she asked, leaning against the dresser.

"If I'm not back before the Summit..." My voice caught. "Watch over Eric for me."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "The thousand-year-old Viking Vampire? Pretty sure he can handle himself."

"You don't understand. The bond—it's deeper now." I wrapped my arms around myself. "If I'm gone too long, he might stop feeding, might just... shut down. Promise me you won't let that happen."

She studied my face, then exhaled slowly. "Alright, I promise. But remember when our biggest problem were those guys in the parking lot that afternoon? Goddess, I miss those days."

"I never meant for you to get caught in all this," I whispered.

"Hey." She squeezed my shoulder. "Not your fault. I just can't remember what normal feels like anymore, you know?"

"Me neither." I hugged her tight. "Thanks, Ames. For everything."

The jasmine-scented paper crinkled in my pocket as I found Eric standing by the window, his silhouette carved against the night. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for him.

"Baby, I won't be long," I whispered, tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

He caught my wrist, his thumb pressing against my pulse point. His eyes refused to meet mine, but our bond hummed with everything he wouldn't say.

"Just—" My voice faltered. "Kiss me goodbye?"

His hands cupped my face with unexpected gentleness, his kiss deep and desperate, as if storing the memory of me.

Against his lips, I whispered, "I will always come back to you" The promise seemed to thaw something in him, sending a warm current through our connection.

"You better be," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "or I'll track you into Fairy myself, daylight be damned." His fingers tightened on mine, the gesture conveying what his pride wouldn't let him say aloud. He hated this, but he loved me more.

I materialized directly into my great-grandfather's office, finding him hunched over a scatter of ancient parchments, his brow furrowed.

"Sookie!" He rose with fairy grace, arms outstretched. "Your promptness honors us."

"Great-grandfather, time moves differently here—Eric will worry..."

His eyes softened with ancient understanding. "Fear not. You'll return to your vampire before he feels your absence." He glanced at an ornate timepiece. "Eric has healed completely?"

I nodded once. "What about Claudine?"

"She sleeps now." His voice dropped. "Ruairi's torments were... considerable."

"Tell her I came, please" I whispered, throat tight.

As we strolled toward the living room, I couldn't help but marvel at the splendor surrounding us. It felt like stepping into a storybook palace, worlds away from our reality. The walls had a pearlescent glow, casting back light in an ethereal whisper across the shining space. Each piece of furniture was a timeless relic, crafted with care and preserved as if it were untouched by time's passing hands.

Underfoot, the porcelain tiles were so immaculate they seemed to reflect every detail as clear as day—a pristine canvas stretching beneath ornate chandeliers that glistened like constellations hanging overhead. A gentle hum of electricity whispered through their crystals whenever they caught the shifting air.

Soft hand-woven rugs lined sections of the floor here and there, texture inviting bare feet to explore their woven tales. Around us lingered a faint fragrance of polished wood mingling with something floral and old-world—perhaps lavender or rose water gently winding its way into memory.

In every nook stood inviting arrangements: plush sofas warmed by afternoon sunlight filtering through draped curtains; armchairs clustered near grand bookshelves teeming with well-loved tomes promising worlds yet discovered. This was not just a room but an experience—a tapestry of senses waiting to be unraveled by anyone willing to sit and listen closely.

In that moment, a transcendent bliss flooded through me. It was as if a powerful force wove its way into my very being, cradling me in a cocoon of sheer delight that mirrored the embrace of a beloved grandmother, the strength of a father's protective arm, and the soothing touch of a mother's gentle kiss. This sensation... it was nothing short of homecoming itself, an overwhelming wave of pure and profound connection.

Something in my blood recognized this place. The walls seemed to whisper secrets meant only for me, even as my heart tugged toward the vampire waiting in another world. Two homes, two loyalties—the fairy palace with its timeless embrace and the Shreveport house where Eric's scent lingered on our sheets. Here, surrounded by my fairy kin, I felt a certainty bloom: no matter what storms gathered in the other realm, I would always find safe harbor here.

We settled onto a curved sofa the color of midnight ocean waters, its plush cushions yielding beneath us. Niall's ancient eyes searched mine, his composure momentarily fractured.

"Yesterday," he began, then faltered. "What you accomplished against our enemy..." His voice strengthened. "Few could have done what you did, Sookie. The peace you've initiated for our kind—it exceeds all expectations."

His hands enveloped mine. "I summoned you privately because what I offer requires discretion." The unspoken truth hung between us—Eric's protective nature would have complicated this moment.

"This isn't necessary," I murmured, ducking my head. "I only did what needed doing."

"Absolutely not." Niall's fingers disappeared into seemingly endless pockets. "The Brigant royal line must formally acknowledge you. Half-human or not, your abilities outshine our purest bloodlines."

From a golden box emerged a ring—yellow gold with the Brigant crest surrounded by diamonds that caught light from impossible angles. My breath suspended itself.
"This marks you as ours," he said.

The ring slid onto my right hand with an ease that felt predestined. The weight of centuries pressed against my skin, leaving me momentarily speechless.
"Great-grandfather, I—" My voice faltered as I stared at the glittering crest now adorning my finger. The diamonds caught the ethereal light, sending tiny rainbows dancing across my palm.

Niall's ancient eyes crinkled at the corners as he studied my hand. "The Brigant bloodline recognizes its own," he murmured, a rare tenderness softening his regal features.

"Now," Niall leaned forward, his ancient eyes gleaming. "About the matter of succession..."

My blood turned to ice water in my veins. "Great-grandfather, please—"

"The vampire has your heart. I understand." He waved his hand dismissively. "But your abilities, Sookie—they're extraordinary. Our bloodline hasn't seen such power in millennia."

I pushed myself up from the midnight-blue cushions, my newly-ringed hand trembling. "You have Claude. I can't abandon Eric, abandon our life together."

"That isn't what I'm proposing." Niall's voice remained calm, though something flickered across his face—disappointment, perhaps. "Instead of heir, I offer you this: Protector of the Fae." He raised one slender finger as I opened my mouth. "Before you refuse—you would remain in your world. You would come to us only when needed, or meet threats in the mortal realm itself. You would be our shield, our voice in delicate negotiations."

"A fairy ambassador?" The title tasted strange on my tongue.

"In essence."

My fingers found the ring, twisting it. "The time difference between our worlds..."

Niall's shoulders dropped slightly. "Yes, yes, a complication I haven't yet solved."

The weight of responsibility pressed against my chest, even as something inside me stirred with interest.

"The offer has... certain merits," I admitted, turning the ring on my finger.

"And naturally, the continuation of our bloodline through your particular gifts—"

"You're talking about children."

Niall's eyes brightened. "The potential would be extraordinary."

A big laugh escaped me before I could stop it. My great-grandfather, for all his ancient wisdom, had overlooked something rather fundamental: the golden-haired vampire waiting in Shreveport who'd sooner tear out a man's throat than allow another to claim what was his. What was ours.

"But that can wait until you're ready."

I met his gaze with a silent smile, letting the impossibility hang between us like an unspoken truth we both recognized but only one of us accepted.

"I am really sorry, but are we finished?" I asked, as a familiar tug pulled at my chest. The bond was stretching thin between worlds—Eric would be pacing by now, his anxiety radiating across whatever dimensional barriers separated us.

"For now, yes." Niall rose gracefully as I stood, his ancient eyes glinting with something between hope and calculation. "Consider my offer carefully."

"I promise to give it proper thought," I said, twisting the new ring on my finger. "The fairy protector role... it's generous of you."

"Generous?" He laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "My dear, this position comes with substantial compensation. Financial independence has always been your goal, hasn't it?" His smile revealed perfect teeth, knowing he'd found my pressure point.

As we walked through the corridor, something nagged at the edges of my mind—a warning trying to surface.

"Your control has improved remarkably," Niall observed, his ancient eyes studying my face. "The way you've mastered your glow... Rhosyn's methods are clearly effective."

Rhosyn. The name sent a chill through me, unlocking what I'd been struggling to remember. "Great-grandfather," I began, my voice dropping to a whisper, "about Rhosyn—"
"SOOKIE!" The familiar voice echoed down the hallway. Claudine appeared before us, her sudden presence both welcome and terribly timed. The warning about Rhosyn died on my lips.

I embraced my cousin, feeling her solid presence. "I'm so glad you're okay." When I pulled back to examine her, I noticed her physical wounds had vanished, though something haunted lingered behind her eyes.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Niall's fingers brushed my shoulder, his eyes crinkling with warmth before he glided away. The warning about Rhosyn died on my lips as frustration bloomed inside me.

Claudine's eyes narrowed, reading my face before I could speak. "This way," she commanded, her fingers circling my wrist with surprising strength as she pulled me down a corridor.

"Eric is waiting," I protested, feeling the bond between us stretch thinner. "I need to return—"

"Impossible right now," she cut me off, her grip tightening when I tried to twist away.

She ushered me into a chamber that could only belong to a fairy royal. Though it shared the palace's gleaming walls and crystal chandeliers, nature had claimed this space—flowering vines cascaded from ceiling to floor in a riot of color, the heavy perfume of jasmine hanging in the air like sweet fog.

My hands balled into fists. "Impossible? What exactly does that mean, Claudine?"

She leaned closer, her jasmine scent almost suffocating. "I have informants in your world, remember? Claude is there. The vampire community has mobilized—they're searching for you in every corner of Louisiana."

The bond with Eric pulled tighter in my chest. "That's— no... Eric,"

"Eric is fine, he's holding his ground, he maintains you simply vanished," she continued, her eyes darting to the door. "He's protecting you, but you cannot return now. They've stationed watchers at every location you've ever frequented."

I pressed my fingers against my temples. "What could possibly have happened in the few hours I've been gone?"

"You mean..." Claudine whispered, her face crumpling as she watched understanding dawn in my eyes. "weeks."