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Chapter Text

A/N: This fanfic is an alternate universe (AU) story that blends elements from the True Blood television series and The Southern Vampire Mysteries book series by Charlaine Harris.

The timeline diverges at the end of Season 3 of the show and Book 3 (Club Dead). Instead of continuing as either version presents, this story takes a new path: Sookie accepts Claudine’s invitation to visit the fae realm.

However, characters from the fae world—such as Claudine and Niall—are portrayed more in line with their book personalities and roles than the show’s interpretations. This world keeps many core events and relationships from the books, but reimagines them with fresh developments and deeper magic.

What follows is a hybrid supernatural universe, where Sookie must choose between her humanity and her fae heritage, and where Eric Northman remains a powerful presence in her story.

Russell Edgington never was an enemy, the drama before this AU takes place is related to the Book 3. He’s married to Talbot (TV series wink). 

This is a tale of second chances, of identity, power, and belonging. And of a love that endures… even across worlds.

Prologue: What Was Left Behind

Not every fairy tale ends with a kiss. Some end in silence. In the echo of empty rooms and a heart that no longer knows what it’s beating for.

After rescuing her ex-boyfriend Bill Compton, Sookie Stackhouse found herself more alone than ever. Betrayed. Tired. Numb. The supernatural world, once alluring and full of mystery, now felt like a trap she’d fallen into without ever meaning to.

Her relationship with Eric Northman, the ancient and maddeningly magnetic Viking vampire, was... complicated. He’d protected her. Desired her. But he’d also hurt her, left her wondering what was real. 

But Sookie’s story didn’t start in Bon Temps. And it sure as hell wouldn’t end there.

There was something inside her—deeper than desire and blood. A fragment of otherworldly power, passed down through generations, hidden until the moment it would change everything. The essential spark. It was more than just a gift. It was a choice .

When Claudine, a radiant and mysterious figure who claimed to be her fairy godmother, appeared in her living room, Sookie didn’t run. Not this time. This fairy Claudine brought news. About her great-grandfather, Niall Brigant, a fae prince. About the two paths that now lay before her: To renounce her powers and the supernatural world and live out her days as human, or to embrace her fae nature—and with it, extend her life, deepen her magic, and forever walk the line between human and immortal.

She left with Claudine. She stepped into the fae realm, into light and shadow and time that bent in strange ways.

What was one hour and fifteen minutes to her there passed as five years in the human world. Now she’s back. She hasn’t aged a day. But the world has.

Her house is no longer hers. Jason has moved on, but not without problems. The Queen still reigns… barely. Trouble brews from the west. Felipe de Castro stirs. 

And Sookie? She’s stronger. She’s clearer. And she’s ready to choose her fate. But fate isn’t finished with her just yet.

Chapter One – The Edge of Belief

Fangtasia had quieted to a low hum, the last humans filing out with glazed eyes and smeared lipstick. The scent of synthetic blood lingered in the air like a sad afterthought. Eric Northman stood motionless on his throne, looking at the last drop of True Blood in his glass. 

Pam perched on a red leather stool, legs crossed, cool as ever. Her eyes were sharp, unsentimental. “It’s time.”

Eric didn’t look at her. “Time for what?”

“For you to stop waiting.” Her voice was silk over steel. “She’s not coming back, Eric. It’s been five years. For all we know, she’s dead.”

The words hit him like silver to the chest, clean and deep. He didn’t flinch. He never did. But his grip on the glass faltered.

“She’s not dead,” he said quietly.

Pam raised a brow. “You don’t know that.”

“I would feel it,” he said, louder now. “I would know.”

Pam exhaled, slow and measured. “You’ve been holding onto a fantasy. A porch light that never turns on. I know you cared for her, but this—this is crazy. It's a bad obsession with a mere human.”

He met her gaze then, ice meeting flame. “She is not a mere human.” Eric looked away, jaw clenched. The glass finally cracked in his hand.

Pam stood. “You don’t have to forget her. But maybe it’s time to stop dying for her.” She walked out, leaving only silence and broken crystal behind.

Eric stood there long after, surrounded by shadows, wondering—for the first time—if Pam was right. Maybe it was time to let her go. Maybe.

Meanwhile, in Bon Temps, the air shimmered above the porch of a once-familiar farmhouse. Sookie Stackhouse reappeared without a sound, her hair loose and dusted with fairy light. The stars overhead looked unchanged. The smell of jasmine and earth was the same. But everything else felt… off.

She looked around slowly, heart racing. The porch steps were newer. The garden was groomed with a hand that wasn’t hers. The siding had been repainted.

Her breath caught in her throat. She reached for the front door out of instinct—and found no key in her bag. That was when the panic started to rise.

Had she returned to the wrong house? No. This was her home. The bones of it were the same. But the skin was… different. Renovated. Lived in. Or worse: owned.

She sat down on the porch step, trying to slow her thoughts. One hour and fifteen minutes. That’s all it had been in the Fairy Realm. One conversation with her great grandfather Niall, Prince of the Fae, that she just met. 

An hour and fifteen minutes had passed since she learned that part of her family were fairies, that she herself had fairy blood, and that, even more, the essential spark , or so she had understood. Now she knew she had a cousin who was also her fairy godmother, Claudine. She was kind, warm, and she could get used to having her around, and she had promised her that before returning to the mortal world. Niall had given her two options, given her situation: she could choose to give up her fairy magic (which she had not even begun to develop fully) and continue her life as a human, which would help her stay further away from the supernatural world, because she would lose this essence that attracted other magical beings to her, or, as one of Niall's heirs and carrier of the essential spark, she could assume her being a hybrid fairy/human and allow her powers to develop, with all that that entailed: being stronger, healthier, living a much longer life than a human. Having more control over herself.

They had said goodbye affectionately, as if they had known each other forever... perhaps they did, who knows. And Niall let her go with those two options and a decision to make. There was no rush, but if she wanted to survive in this world, she had better hurry.

The wind shifted and interrupted her thoughts. Then— She felt him before she saw him. A ripple in the night. A breath of cold air where there should have been heat.

Eric.

He appeared at the end of the driveway, tall and silent, the gravel path whispering under his boots. For once, his mask cracked. His lips parted. His body stilled. His eyes found her like they always had.

“Sookie?” he asked, like he didn’t believe himself.

She stood slowly, arms wrapping around her waist.

“Hi, Eric,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2.

Eric crossed the distance between them in three long strides. He stopped a breath away, not touching her, not reaching. Just staring.

"It's you," he said. "You're here."

Sookie swallowed hard. "Yeah. I… I think so."

He blinked, slowly. "Five years."

"I was gone for an hour."

"Five years," he repeated, voice rough. "Five years without feeling you around." He saw it.

"You've changed."

"So have you." Perfectly knowing that that wasn't possible.

He laughed, but it sounded brittle. "I waited."

She finally looked up and met his eyes. They were devastated.

"I told Pam you would come back," he said quietly. "She thought I was mad. Maybe I was."

"I didn't know—Eric, I didn't mean to be gone so long. Time moves differently there."

"I know," he said. "I've… read."

"You read about Faery?"

He nodded. "Every scrap I could find. Every scroll. Every myth."

"Why?"

His gaze burned. "Because you were there. I never had confirmation of your lineage, but something made me believe that you could be related to their world. I read about all kinds of supernatural lineages, and that was the one that made the most sense to me, especially with your... qualities."

Silence stretched between them. Sookie broke it. "Why is my house different?"

He looked away. "I bought it. After a year. No one knew what happened to you. Jason said you vanished. But I knew. I couldn't let it go."

"You bought my house?"

"I couldn't let strangers live in it. I renovated it. Maintained it. In case you came back."

Her heart cracked. "Eric…"

He stepped closer, slowly. "You smell the same. But… more."

She didn't know how to respond. Her blood hummed. Her magic—new, uncertain—fluttered at the edge of her skin. He finally reached out and touched her face. Just his fingertips. Gentle. Like she might disappear again.

"I thought I'd imagined you," he said. "Hundreds of times."

"I'm real."

"You came back." She nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, as if bracing himself. Then opened them, calm and clear.

"You have questions," he said.

"Yeah... tons of them," she admitted.

"Come inside," he said. "This is still your home."

She hesitated.

"I haven't changed anything upstairs," he added.

That surprised her. She walked past him, up the steps. They didn't creak. She opened the door and stepped inside. The air was clean. Lavender and cedar. Furniture different, but tasteful. A vampire's care in every corner. It felt like a museum of her past—preserved, not lived in. She turned. He stood in the doorway, watching her like she might vanish again.

"Are you coming?" she asked. He exhaled, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind Eric was soft, almost reverent. Sookie stood in the middle of her living room—no, what used to be her living room—and tried to catch her breath. Everything looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, as if someone had tried to recreate her life from memory and got ninety percent of the details right. The wallpaper had changed. The light fixtures. The sofa was newer, darker. The coffee table had been replaced, but a crocheted doily, one of Gran's originals, still lay neatly folded in the corner.

"You kept her things?" Sookie asked, turning to Eric.

He followed her gaze. "The ones that I could, there was a lot of destruction after the maenad."

She swallowed. "It smells like home. But not quite."

"I didn't want it to feel frozen," he said. "But I couldn't bear to erase it either."

Sookie paced slowly into the kitchen, fingertips brushing the edges of the counter. The tile was pristine. She peeked into the pantry. Stocked. She opened the fridge—milk, butter, eggs, blood. Her eyes narrowed.

"I didn't live here," he said, reading her mind the way he used to. "But I came often. To check. To wait. I didn't know if our, um… blood tie would survive so many years, so I wasn't sure if I would feel it when you arrived or not."

She leaned against the refrigerator door and crossed her arms. "Five years, Eric. I left five minutes after I saw Claudine."

"I believe you."

"I just… I don't understand how the world could move so fast without me. What happened?

Where's Sam? Is he still at Merlotte's?"

Eric moved to the far side of the kitchen and leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture deceptively calm. "Sam sold the bar. Two years ago. He moved to Baton Rouge. I heard he opened something new there."

Her breath hitched. "And Jason?"

Eric's expression flickered. "Still in Bon Temps. Married. One daughter. He… struggled. When you disappeared."

Sookie's heart twisted. "He thought I was dead."

Eric nodded. "He never stopped blaming himself."

She lowered her gaze, feeling a guilt pool heavy in her stomach.

"And Bill?" she asked, the name barely above a whisper.

Eric tilted his head slightly, like a predator scenting a change in the wind. "Compton left town. Not long after your funeral."

"My funeral?"

He stepped toward her slowly, voice gentler now. "They needed closure. There was a memorial. An empty casket. I didn't attend."

She laughed, bitter and hollow. "Of course you didn't."

"I was in New Orleans. Hunting."

"For what?"

"For information. Leads. Rumors. You."

Sookie moved toward the living room again, needing space. The walls were a soft cream now, with photographs hung like curated memories. Gran. Jason as a kid. Her, smiling on a porch that didn't exist anymore.

"I thought you hated clutter," she murmured.

Eric appeared behind her, silent as shadow. "I do. But your clutter was different."

Her pulse raced, not just from his closeness. From the swirl of emotion that had no name.

She faced him fully.

"Why?"

He arched a brow. "Why what?"

"Why wait? Why keep the house, read those scrolls, hang pictures of my life on your walls?"

Eric met her gaze and didn't look away. "Because I couldn't forget you. And I couldn't accept the world without you in it."

She inhaled sharply, the room spinning for a moment. "Eric… for me, it was an hour. Just over an hour. I still remember our fight like it just happened. I remember telling you to leave. Telling all of them to leave. I… I wasn't ready to deal with what I am. Who I'm from. I didn't understand any of it. And then Claudine appeared and I—"

"Left," he finished. "Without warning."

"Yes. I didn't know it was gonna be five damn years! Why should I tell anyone that I was just paying a visit to my fairy family for an hour?"

He nodded, slowly. "But now you're here."

Sookie's hands trembled. "I came back with questions. And answers. And a decision I'm not ready to make."

His eyes sharpened. "A decision?"

She shifted toward the window, staring at the moonlight on the porch. "About what I want to be. Who I want to be. Human… or something else."

He stepped closer again, but kept a careful distance. "Did they give you a choice?"

"Yes."

He exhaled like he hadn't taken a breath in five years. "And what will you choose?"

"I don't know yet."

They stood in silence for a long moment, two ghosts haunting their own past.

"I thought of you," she said softly. "While I was there. I didn't want to. But I did." She didn't even know if it was longing, guilt, or anger. Just that his face kept rising behind her eyelids.

Eric's eyes flared, but he didn't move. "I never stopped thinking of you."

Sookie turned and looked at him—really looked. His face was as perfect as ever. But something was different. Something fractured had finally cracked open. She didn't trust it. Not yet.

"I need to rest," she said. "Not sleep. Just… process."

He nodded. "Your room is as you left it. I'll give you space. If you need anything, anything at all, if I can answer any of your questions or help you with your... decision, let me know. I want to help." Sookie smiled shyly, honoured that at least someone had waited for her with such hope and wanted to help her fit back into this world that had already forgotten her. She climbed the stairs slowly. He watched every step until she disappeared from view. Only then did Eric finally move—toward the kitchen, toward the blood waiting in the fridge. His hands trembled as he poured it.

She was back. For the first time in five years, he felt that his gods had returned to him. They had heard his prayers.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3.

The sun had barely kissed the horizon when Sookie stirred. For the first time in what felt like forever, she woke in her own bed—her real bed. The familiar squeak of the old box spring was missing, though, and that was her first clue. Eric had fixed that. Of course he had.

She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The room smelled faintly of lemon polish and old pine, with the clean bite of lavender lingering in the air. Her comforter—yes, the same one, faded pink roses and all—was tucked just like she always used to do it. The corners of her mouth twitched. Damn it, he had taken care of it.

She didn't know how to feel about everything Eric had done; she still couldn't understand it. Not even her own brother, her own flesh and blood, had shown such hope that she would return, nor had he tried so hard to keep their home intact for when that happened. Why had Eric done it? As far as she knew, yes, there was a kind of connection between them, and not just because she had drunk his blood, but because, on many occasions, Eric had been there for her, to help her, accompany her, even save her life. Obviously, with all those events, it was inevitable to have some kind of relationship with that person, but in her mind they had been nothing more than mere friends, until she decided to kick him out of her life, him, Bill, and all the supernatural beings who already had her life full. Without knowing that she herself was, well, part supernatural.

She sat up slowly, heart thudding as if the room might disappear again. But no. It held. Solid wood. Wallpaper peeling ever so slightly in the corner. Her bookshelf, her mirror. Her framed high school graduation photo still on the wall. Eric hadn't touched a thing, but the mattress. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and let her feet hit the cool floor. Then she noticed the note. It was folded neatly on her nightstand, weighed down by a single white feather. The ink was dark, the handwriting elegant and clean.

Sookie,

I'm coming back to Shreveport tonight. I have business to attend to, but I didn't  want to leave without saying something.

This is still your don't have my permission to stay.

I'll return at first dark. If you need anything, call my day man,  Bobby. He'll answer.

I am very pleased that you have returned.

—E.

She stared at it for a long time. So he really had just... gone. After all that. After five years of longing—on his end, apparently—and just a few hours of shock and emotion on hers, he'd left her to rest. Gentlemanly. Maybe even wise. But still—it pinched.

She folded the note carefully, tucked it into the drawer, and padded down the stairs. The house was quiet. Her stomach growled, reminding her that fae magic and emotional whiplash didn't cancel out the need for breakfast. She made herself a cup of coffee. Well, she tried. The fancy machine on the counter wasn't hers. A sleek, European thing with buttons she didn't recognize.

"Of course," she muttered.

She managed something drinkable, burned her tongue, and winced. Then wandered the house, one slow step at a time. A lot had changed. And somehow, nothing had. Her fridge was stocked. Her pantry held her favourite brand of peanut butter. A jar of strawberry jam sat unopened. She hadn't been home in five years, and someone had remembered she didn't like grape. The vampire had gone domestic. The thought should've been absurd, but instead it warmed something in her chest. Still, the questions crowded her mind the moment the caffeine kicked in. Sam. Jason. Tara. Arlene. Bon Temps. Merlotte's. Her life—what was left of it? At one point, she thought about calling Claudine, because it was too much to process. She needed to talk to someone who wouldn't faint the second they saw her alive. They had met so recently, but it was as if they had known each other forever, and she was family! It seems that the saying 'blood is thicker than water' is true.

She opened the back door and stepped into the morning heat. The grass had been mowed recently. Flowers she didn't plant lined the walkway—night-blooming jasmine and red roses. Eric's touch again. She took a long breath. Then marched to her car. Only it wasn't her car. Not exactly. Her old heap of a yellow car had died years ago, apparently. The sleek black one in the driveway had a tag registered in her name. Another one of Eric's subtle declarations. It started without complaint. She let out a breath and headed to the only place that ever anchored her besides this house.

Merlotte's was gone.

She parked where the gravel lot used to be and stared at the empty patch of dirt and wild weeds. The wooden sign was missing. No music. No laughter. No neon beer signs blinking through dusty windows.

Gone. Something stirred in his heart, squeezing so tightly that it hurt.

She got out slowly, eyes scanning the lot. The building had been torn down, or maybe it had burned. No sign remained of the place where she'd spent half her adult life slinging beers and reading minds. The whole world had gone and moved on. Before she could fully process it, a horn honked behind her. She turned—just in time to see a battered pickup truck pull up. The man inside stared at her like he'd seen a ghost.

Jason. Her brother slammed the door and crossed the gravel lot in long, fast strides. "Sook?"

"Hey, Jason," she said softly.

He didn't say anything. Just grabbed her in a bear hug so hard it knocked the wind out of her. He began to squeeze her arms and face, as if trying to confirm that she was real, that she was not a ghost, that she was alive and back. God, his little sister was alive.

"I thought you were dead," he choked into her hair, with a broken voice, tears were already beginning to show.

"Sookie, I thought—I thought they took you, or you were buried somewhere, or—"

She hugged him back. "I didn't know, Jason. I didn't know five years would pass."

He pulled back, staring at her face like he was trying to memorize it. "You look the same. Not a day older."

"I feel the same. I was only gone for an hour."

He blinked. "What the fuck Sook? Are you kidding me?"

She shook her head. "Jason, I have a lot to tell you, about what happened to me, what I discovered, about myself, about us, about our family... Can we go somewhere quiet? I heard that your life has changed a lot, you're married and the father of a beautiful little girl... Would it be possible to meet them?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Of course, I just can't–– I can't believe this is really happening, Sook. Crystal's gonna lose her mind. She—she thought you'd been murdered."

Sookie froze. "Crystal? Like… Crystal Norris?" She didn't know how to feel about this.

Jason looked sheepish. "Yeah."

She blinked. "Are you happy?"

He hesitated. That was all the answer she needed.

"I need to sit down," she said.

Jason did most of the talking. He caught her up as best he could in the space of twenty minutes—Arlene was married to Terry. Tara was dating someone too, although she couldn't remember his name; she would ask her as soon as she saw her; Lafayette opened a food truck just a few blocks away. Andy Bellefleur was now the sheriff.

And Bill? She finally asked. Quietly.

Jason hesitated.

"Bill moved away. Said it hurt too much bein' here. After you… disappeared."

That landed hard. Sookie looked down at her coffee. "Is he okay?"

"He sends Christmas cards to me and Gran's grave. That's all I know."

She nodded.

Jason leaned across the table. "Where did you go, Sook?"

"Listen, Jason, about that…" Sookie let out a long sigh and clenched her hands, preparing to drop the bombshell that would change her brother's entire family life. "Jason, what I'm about to tell you will change your perception of our family forever, and I hope you can accept it, because if you can digest it well, it will help me do the same."

"Damn it, Sook, don't scare the hell out of me, just spit it out," Jason said impatiently.

"Our grandaddy, Mitchell, isn't really... erm, our biological grandaddy."

Jason stepped back a little, surprised by the accusation.

"Let me continue," Sookie raised a finger. "Our biological grandfather is called Fintan Brigant, a fairy, son of the Prince of the Fairies, Niall Brigant. Grandaddy Mitchell was sterile, he couldn't have kids. While Fintan was living here in the human world for a time, he met Gran and they fell deeply in love. They kept their relationship a secret, and Gran never actually confessed that her children were not Mitchell's, but Fintan's…" Jason had to interrupt her. "Wait, wait... I have to stop you there, Sookie. Are you telling me that Gran cheated granddady? With a fairy? You've lost your damn mind, Sook. You ain't telling me this shit" Jason was beginning to lose control; none of this made any sense. Sookie understood; she had reacted similarly when Niall told her everything.

"Jason, by now you know that other worlds exist, you know about vampires, you're married to Crystal Norris, so I assume you know about Weres and shape-shifters." Jason nodded reluctantly. "Open your mind a little and include one more species: fairies." Sookie said, with the same calmness with which she had told the rest and taking Jason's hand into hers.

Jason grimaced, indicating for her to continue. "Since Fintan was half-fairy, his children also inherited that... our daddy and uncle were also recognised as half-fairies, but daddy died before he could get closer to that world… and that makes us partly fairies as well" At this,

Jason jumped up. "But Sook, I don't have any supernatural powers." Ah, but he had a secret, one he wasn't going to tell Sookie yet, not now. "You're the one who's always been... different," he said, looking down.

"Not everyone inherits powers or the ability to manifest them, Jason. They call it the Essential Spark. And apparently, you don't have it, but you still have some fairy traits, such as your beauty and ability to attract the opposite sex. Fairies are truly beautiful, all of them, men and women alike. You would have been captivated, you wouldn't have wanted to return to this world if you had gone with me." Jason wondered silently if he could go there at some point... just to take a peek. "But I seem to have this Essential Spark." Sookie let go of Jason's hand and clenched her fists, without knowing whether that was a good thing or not.

"What does that mean, Sook? Are you going away again?"

Jason asked with some concern in his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, no, no, brother, I ain't goin' anywhere. Anyway... for me, this happened literally yesterday, but... five years ago for you, on the day I cut Bill out of my life for good and said I didn't want to know anything more about supernatural beings or their bullshit. Claudine, my fairy godmother and our fairy cousin by the way, showed up in my living room and took me with her. There I met Niall, and he filled me in on everything I'm telling you now. He told me that he had never seen anyone attract so much danger to themselves before, that he felt compelled to protect me because I was his great-granddaughter, but also the granddaughter of Fintan, his son whom he loved so much and who is no longer, well… on this plane, so to speak." Sookie didn't know how to explain the Summerlands thing to Jason, so she decided to simplify it. "He told me that he wants to give me the option of giving up my Essential Spark and my magic and being completely human and living my life as such, which could help all the supernatural beings stop being attracted to me and my being constantly in danger" Sookie paused, the idea sounding strangely... a rather lonely fate?

Jason took the opportunity to interrupt again. "That's what you want, ain't it?" Sookie didn't know how to respond. "The other option is to embrace my Essential Spark and my fairy side, making it more powerful, stronger, under control, and it would mean that I would be completely supernatural, with all that that entails." Sookie decided not to tell Jason any more details. It was all very complicated, especially the possibility of outliving her brother and his human lifespan and seeing him die, along with the rest of her loved ones, while she would remain here, frozen in time, for many centuries to come. That fate also sounded somewhat... lonely and even painful. She shuddered.

Sookie believed in God, she believed in eternal life beyond life on Earth, something similar to the Summerlands of the fairies. She had always grown up knowing that death was just one more step on the path of souls towards the complete happiness offered by the Lord. She had always heard that there one had the option of reuniting with those who had already departed: Gran, Grandaddy, her parents... That hope was what had helped her stay strong. Not that she was looking to die, but she wasn't afraid of it either. She knew that in a few years her time would come and she would be reunited with those she loved most. If she chose to remain a fairy, she wouldn't live forever, but that prospect would be many, many years away.

Jason snapped her out of her thoughts. "So what are you goin' to decide?" Sookie looked at him, but not really; her mind was still racing. "To be honest, I don't know. Niall didn't give me a deadline. He told me to take my time, to think it over, that it was an important decision. I suppose at some point, I'll wake up and know the answer." She shrugged, resigned to that possibility to simplify the situation. "Even if I decided to embrace myself as a fairy, I wouldn't want to live there; my life is here… It's a lot to process."

"You can say that again... Wow, Sook, I don't know how to answer to all this either. All I know is that right now, I'm very happy that you're back and, in a way, sorry that I gave up so easily," He said, lowering his head, hiding his embarrassment.

"No, Jason, don't feel that way." She said, moving closer to hug him. She really missed her brother. "I don't know what I would've done if it were the other way around. It's a very complex situation, and I don't want to imagine how you felt. Obviously, you needed to move on. If thinking that I was dead helped you do that, then that's fine. I'm really sorry about this. Time there... isn't the same as here. It was only an hour, but here it was years. If anyone should apologize, it's me."

She looked him straight in the eye and continued, "Jason, I'm back. I want to be part of your life, brother. I want us to work on our relationship from now on. You're all I have left in this world… But that doesn't mean I'll put up with your crap again, okay?" She said, giving him a warning look. Jason chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sorry 'bout everything too. I haven't been the best brother, but I really love you, Sook, and I always will. I promise I'll do my part."

After that heartwarming moment, Jason took her to a dinner two blocks away to grab a bite to eat. The dinner had taken over most of Merlotte's old customers, apparently. And you could see from the outside that it was at its peak. "Oh shit" Sookie thought. Now she had to face everyone. And she didn't have a back up story to tell. "Think fast, Sookie, think, think."

She chickened out, took Jason's hand to stop him, and said, "Jason, I don't think I'm ready to face everyone right now. What I told you is a secret; not even you can tell anyone, and I haven't come up with another story to justify my five-year absence..." Jason understood. After a few minutes of saying goodbye, Sookie got back in her car and decided to go home. She needed to come up with a story. Maybe it was a good time to talk to Claudine again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4.

Sookie stood in the middle of her kitchen, phone in one hand, heart in the other. She didn't know how fae summoning worked exactly—there wasn't a "Call Your Fairy Cousin" button—but she remembered Claudine had said to "think hard" and "wish with intention."

So she closed her eyes, pressed her palm flat against the table, and whispered softly, "Claudine… if you can hear me, I need you."

She felt silly. A grown woman whispering into her linoleum. But less than a minute later, there was a shimmer and Claudine appeared with a swirl of light and perfume.

"Someone called?" Claudine's smile was as radiant as ever, eyes glittering with kindness and mischief in equal measure.

Sookie didn't move for a moment. Then: "Claudine…"

And just like that, the dam cracked. The tears came, sudden and furious. Not just tears of confusion, or fear, or even loss—but the strange, unnameable ache of being forgotten. Of coming home and realizing the world didn't wait.

Claudine stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, warm and solid. "It's alright," she whispered. "Let it out."

"I can't—" Sookie managed, voice hitching. "You didn't tell me about the time. I wouldn't have gone with you if I had known that one hour would be five years here! Everyone's moved on. Jason's married. Merlotte's is gone. No one's waiting for me. Not really. They held a funeral for me Claudine, A FUNERAL. There is a grave in the cemetery behind my house WITH MY NAME ON IT" She was beginning to lose it.

Claudine pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. "I know honey, but that's not entirely true. Not all moved on with their lives. Eric waited."

Sookie looked down. "Yeah. He did. But everyone else… I feel like a ghost in my own life. I feel… hollow."

"Lonely," Claudine said softly. "I understand."

They sat together on the couch, the morning light slanting across the floor. Claudine kicked her shoes off like they were old friends catching up. "Sookie, your grief is valid. You were gone for what felt like an hour. For everyone else, it was five years. That kind of dissonance hurts."

Sookie sniffled. "Why didn't Niall warn me? Why didn't you?"

"I didn't know time would pass like that. Faery is… unpredictable. Even Niall can't always control how it twists."

Sookie leaned back, exhausted. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I don't even have a damn job, Claudine. I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong everywhere, Sookie. You have choices. That's a gift most people don't get."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Feels more like a curse right now."

Claudine smiled gently. "Then let me help. I meant it when I said I could be more than just your cousin or your guide. Let me be your friend. The kind who takes you shopping, helps you curse a bad ex, or gets drunk with you and sings sad country songs."

Sookie laughed through her tears. "What, like a magical bestie?"

"Exactly." Claudine leaned closer, eyes sincere. "You don't have to go through this alone, Sookie. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

A beat of silence passed.

"Also," Claudine said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, "you need a cover story."

Sookie looked up from her toast. "You mean, like... a lie?"

"I mean a protective narrative. One the human world can swallow without choking. You can't exactly waltz into Merlotte's and say, 'Hey y'all, I've been in Faery for five human years.' You'd be locked up or worse—used by some other Supes"

Sookie winced. "They already thought I was crazy when I could just read minds."

"Exactly," Claudine said, buttering her toast. "We need something simple. Emotional. Vague."

"You've done this before?"

Claudine grinned. "More times than you'd guess. Time warps, memory gaps, alternate realms—humans can't process that. So we give them something they can."

Sookie crossed her arms. "Hit me with it."

"A breakdown," Claudine said plainly. "Overwhelmed by grief, trauma, Supernatural shit—everything. You left the country. Found a therapeutic retreat in northern Norway. No phones. No internet. Just snow, silence, and healing."

Sookie blinked. "Norway?!"

Claudine nodded. "Beautiful, believable, and far enough that no one will try to verify it. You spent the last five years off-grid, under psychiatric care, and recently remembered who you were. Now you've come home."

"That's a hell of a story," Sookie murmured.

"It's your story," Claudine said gently. "Just shaped to keep you safe."

Sookie sighed. "People'll still whisper."

"They always do," Claudine shrugged. "But they'll stop. And if anyone asks too many questions, we'll say the Norwegian doctor wrote a book. In Norwegian."

Sookie cracked a small smile. "You're scary good at this."

"I'm a fairy. We invented glamours."

Sookie smiled despite herself. "Thanks, Claudine."

"For what?"

"For showing up. For not letting me drown."

"You're one of us, Sookie. And more than that, you're my cousin. I don't have tons of that." Claudine's voice was warm with affection. "You'll never be alone again."

The scent of garlic and rosemary wafted through the air as Claudine stirred something on the stove. She'd conjured up lunch like it was nothing—simple, homey, and way too delicious to have been made from the dusty contents of Sookie's pantry.

Sookie sat at the kitchen table with a plate of warm bread already in front of her, picking at it while her thoughts spun like a carousel. Eventually, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"So," she began, "what exactly is being a fairy? I mean, beyond sparkle-dust and walking through walls."

Claudine chuckled, plating two steaming bowls of pasta with roasted vegetables and bringing them over. "It's a lot of things, and very few of them are like the stories. We don't sit on toadstools or grant wishes. Well... not often."

Sookie arched a brow. "So what do you do?"

Claudine sat across from her and took a sip of sparkling water before answering. "We're a species. A race. Some say a dimension. It depends how you define it. Our magic comes from the elements—the energy that flows through living things. Fairies are like tuning forks for that energy. That's why people are drawn to us, why we're beautiful to them, intoxicating even. It's not vanity—it's magnetism."

Sookie twirled her fork slowly. "So… I've got that?"

Claudine smiled. "You've always had it. You just didn't know what it was. That spark you carry—that's the Essential Spark, from our family, the royal family. You're a princess Sookie, as am I. It's not just magic, it's a marker. It means you're more than just a descendant. You're meant to be part of our world."

Sookie chewed in silence for a moment. Then swallowed hard. "But what does that mean, practically? Do I have powers? Do I have to move there? Do I get wings? Am I gonna turn glittery one night in my sleep?"

Claudine laughed. "No wings, I promise. Though I have seen a cousin who could glow in the dark. Don't worry—each fairy's abilities manifest differently. Some control light, some can sense emotions, manipulate elements, shift glamours, open portals, exercise mental control. Some are more attuned to plants, others to time. And others, like you, have deep psychic gifts."

"Because I'm telepathic."

"Exactly. That gift didn't come from the human side. It was amplified by your bloodline."

Sookie nodded slowly. "So what if I choose to keep it? The Spark. Embrace the fairy stuff."

"Then you'll train. Learn to control it. Strengthen it. You'll probably live longer. Not immortal, but... think centuries."

Sookie's fork paused mid-air. "That's… that's a big thing to throw in there."

"I know." Claudine's tone softened. "That's why Niall told you to take your time. The choice changes everything—how you age, how you experience the world, who you might lose."

Sookie's throat tightened. "Like Jason."

"Yes. Like Jason."

They were both quiet for a minute, only the clinking of cutlery filling the room.

"Do fairies get married?" Sookie asked suddenly.

Claudine looked up. "Sometimes. But not the way humans do. Love is powerful, yes. Sacred. But we don't tie it down with laws and fear. We bond when it's true. And we let go when it fades."

"So no 'til death do us part?'"

"We live too long to pretend love never changes."

That struck Sookie hard. "What about children?"

"They're rare. Cherished. Usually only born to those with very strong Spark. It's one of the reasons you're important, Sookie. You might be one of the few who can carry on the line."

She blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"You're saying I'm, what… some kind of magical broodmare?"

Claudine laughed into her pasta. "I'm saying you're powerful. But no one's gonna force you into anything. Least of all babies. Those could be a really headache."

Sookie leaned back and sighed. "God. This is a lot. Five years gone. Legally, I'm 32, but still look like 27. Merlotte's destroyed. Jason married. Tara dating, like stable. And now I'm apparently part of some endangered magical bloodline?"

Claudine reached across the table and took her hand. "It's overwhelming, I know. But you're not alone. You've never been alone."

Sookie looked at her. "You really want to hang out with me? Like, just be friends? Even if I decide not to be a full fairy?"

"Absolutely. We can go get pedicures. Watch trashy vampire reality shows. I'll even pretend I've never flown through dimensions when you complain about the DMV."

That earned her a laugh—genuine, rich. Sookie felt some of the tension slide off her shoulders.

"Well, alright then," she said. "Let's start with you helping me come up with a damn good cover story. Something people won't poke holes in."

Claudine leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Deal. And after that, I'm taking you shopping. Because girl, you can't keep meeting people looking like you just crawled out of a time portal."

Sookie grinned. "Technically, I did crawl out of a time portal."

"Exactly why you need new boots."

Claudine snapped her fingers—and just like that, they weren't in Bon Temps anymore. A dizzy shimmer of light, a rush of wind, and suddenly they were in the cool, air-conditioned heart of a shopping mall in New Orleans. Claudine had dressed for the occasion—flowing cream blouse, high-waisted pleated trousers, oversized sunglasses—and Sookie couldn't help staring.

"Are we… is this real?"

"As real as it gets," Claudine said, grabbing her hand. "Come on. You need to look like you didn't step out of 2007."

Sookie hadn't stepped into a mall in what felt like decades. Everything looked slicker now. Minimalist storefronts. Mannequins wearing jackets with sharp shoulders, and jeans that clung like second skin. And everyone—everyone—seemed to be wearing skinny jeans or cropped jackets or some kind of sheer blouse with just a little too much see-through.

Claudine took the lead. Within minutes, she had Sookie in a dressing room with an armful of clothes: a pale pink peplum blouse, a fitted navy blazer, a lace-trimmed camisole, and the softest pair of burgundy skinny jeans she'd ever touched.

"Try those first," Claudine said, lounging in a chair just outside the curtain. "Oh! And the wedge boots. Leather. Very 2012."

Sookie blinked down at the pile. "I've never owned anything this… modern."

"You'll thank me when someone tries to photograph you for a 'before and after' article."

After some clumsy tugging and quiet cursing, Sookie emerged in her new outfit, tugging self-consciously at the blazer sleeve.

Claudine's eyes lit up. "You look like someone who's about to reclaim her damn life."

"You sure I don't look like someone tryin' too hard?"

"You look like someone who's been asleep and just woke up. And happens to have really good taste."

They moved from store to store like that—Claudine guiding, Sookie questioning, doubting, smiling more with each new piece she tried on. She ended up with two high-low dresses, one in pale blue and another in a wild floral pattern. A cropped leather jacket that made her feel like she belonged in a movie. A few floaty cardigans, a pair of wedge sneakers, and a black structured handbag with gold buckles that she swore made her stand taller.

"I feel ridiculous," she whispered at one point, slipping a graphic tee with a French phrase over her head. It read C'est la vie.

"You feel fabulous," Claudine corrected.

By 5pm, they'd stopped at a makeup counter where a sweet girl named Zoë had taught Sookie how to apply matte lipstick in a dusty rose, swiped a little gold eyeshadow across her lids, and insisted she take home the neutral palette.

When they finally shimmered back into the driveway of her farmhouse, Sookie's arms were heavy with bags, her brain spinning from colors and textures and scents she hadn't even realised she missed.

Claudine turned to her, brushing a hand down her sleeve. "You're not alone, Sookie. You never have to be, not unless you want to."

Sookie's throat tightened. "You mean that?"

"I do," Claudine said. "Call me when you want to vent. When you want to laugh. Or drink wine, go dancing and talk about the stupid things men do."

Sookie laughed, surprising herself. "You're a hell of a fairy godmother."

Claudine winked. "I'm also a certified life coach. Tuesdays and Thursdays, I take clients. Human ones."

"You live here? In the real world?"

"I do. Rent, taxes, and everything. My house's in Monroe."

Sookie shook her head in wonder. "You really just… balance it all?"

"You will too," Claudine said. "One new dress at a time."

With a final smile, and the sparkle of fairy light, Claudine vanished into the night.

And Sookie… was alone again. Alone in a house full of memories, with the clock ticking toward sunset and her new wardrobe spread across the living room. She took a deep breath. The air was cooling. Shadows stretched across the fields outside.

It was almost time. Would Eric come back? She didn't have the answer. But she knew she would be awake when night fell. Waiting.

Chapter Text

A/N: I'm enjoying so much writing this fanfic. No worries, I'm still working on "Where the light touches" and I'll do my best to make both stories captivating. A little spoiler: I just finished chapter 9 of this fanfic, and I swear, even I cried while writing it.

Also, thank you for the reviews, I know it can be confusing to mix the tv series and the books, but there are things I love about the books and other things I want to keep from the tv series. Try to keep an open mind and don't focus too much on where each thing belongs.

Warning: This is a long chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong exclusively to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

After a long shower and a whole lotta internal arguing, Sookie stood in front of her closet—hands on her hips, towel wrapped around her damp hair—just starin'. She wasn't fixin' to dress up for anybody, especially not for him. But the idea of Eric walkin' through that door and seein' her in old sweatpants felt… well, wrong.

"Lord help me, I don't know why I'm actin' like this," she muttered, grabbing a soft, flowy cream blouse with little lace cap sleeves and tiny pearly buttons down the front. It was sweet without being saccharine. She paired it with dark skinny jeans and her new favorite pair of caramel leather ankle boots—the ones that made her legs look longer, but didn't scream trying too hard.

Her hair, which had dried into soft waves, she left down, brushing it out gently and pinning one side back with a simple clip. A touch of peach blush, a bit of mascara, and a dab of lip gloss—barely there. She put on a bit of perfume, Obsession.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. "I look like I'm goin' to church and not plannin' on talkin' to nobody afterward," she said out loud.

Still, it would have to do. She didn't wanna send the wrong message. But she also didn't wanna look like she'd been cryin' in bed all day—though, truth be told, she kinda had.

Cute. Comfortable. Not obvious. That was the line she walked. And deep down, maybe she did wanna see his face when he saw her in it.

It was nearly 6:45 when the air in the house changed. Sookie didn't know how else to describe it—it was like the very walls had started anticipating something. Or someone.

She paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again, her boots clickin' against the hardwood, her hands twisting together in front of her blouse. She'd just finished lighting a lavender candle in the corner, telling herself it was for ambiance and not for him. Nothing to do with him. Nope.

Except… she'd changed her outfit twice.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, flopping down on the edge of the couch, only to spring up again a second later. "He's just a vampire. A friend. Kinda. A vampire friend who kept my house pretty and stocked it with my favorite peanut butter and lavender candles. That's all."

Her new phone buzzed. She fumbled for it, nearly knockin' over a glass of sweet tea in the process.

Claudine: Calm down. I can feel your nerves from here. Tall, blond, and dead—he will fall at your feet.

Sookie rolled her eyes so hard it made her dizzy. She tapped out a reply, her thumbs moving fast.

Sookie: I ain't interested in anything like that. I'm just grateful he kept the house up. That's all.

A pause.

Then she added, slower this time: ...and maybe it's nice that someone waited. Even if I didn't ask him to.

She was staring at that message when the knock came. Three sharp taps, firm but not rushed. Her heart leapt straight into her throat. He didn't have to knock. It was his house on paper—she'd seen the deed on the desk upstairs. He could've walked in like he owned the place. But he hadn't.

She stood frozen for a breath. Then another. Then—

"Oh for the love of—" she hissed, brushing her hair back one more time and forcing her legs to move.

When she opened the door, there he was. Eric Northman.

Six-foot-four of quiet power, dressed in black jeans and a dark charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His blond hair fell perfectly around his face, not a strand outta place. His eyes—those ice-blue eyes—fixed on her like she was the only person left in the world.

"Miss Stackhouse," he said, with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Eric," she said back, trying real hard not to fidget.

"You look…well, beautiful" He took a step forward, the porch creaking beneath his boots. "Did we agree yesterday to have a date today?" Sookie shook her head, blushed. "We can fix that of course".

She chuckled and stepped aside before he could ask. "You can come in."

"I know," he said softly. "But I waited for you to say it anyway."

Something in her chest clenched. She didn't answer—just turned and walked into the living room, where the candle still flickered low.

He followed, quiet as a shadow.

"You've changed," he said after a moment, standing near the doorway, his hands behind his back. "But you haven't."

She glanced over her shoulder. "You keep sayin' that."

"Because it's true. You smell like you, but... different. Stronger? Brighter?" It wasn't really a question.

Sookie gave a half-laugh and folded her arms. "Guess magic does that to a girl."

"I'm glad you're back." His voice was low. Not just deep—but low, like a secret being offered.

"I still don't understand why you cared so much." Her voice cracked a little, and she didn't like that. "I didn't exactly leave a thank-you card before disappearin'."

Eric tilted his head. "You didn't have to."

"You're not the sentimental type."

"No." He smiled faintly. "But I make exceptions."

The room went still. She looked away first, staring out the window even though the sun was nearly gone. "So… why are you really here tonight? You already saw me. Told me I could stay. What's left?"

He moved to sit in the old armchair across from her. Didn't slouch. Didn't spread out. Just… perched, like he was tryin' to be small in her space.

"I came because I have questions. And because I want to offer something."

Her brow arched. "Questions first."

He nodded. "What happened? Where were you? Why come back now?"

Sookie let out a long breath, then dropped onto the couch, hands in her lap.

"Eric… for me, it was an hour. One single hour and fifteen minutes. For you—for everybody—it was five years. I didn't even get to choose to leave. Claudine showed up and poof, I was gone. I thought I'd be home in time to reheat dinner."

His expression didn't change, but his fingers curled tighter against his leg.

"I learned a lot there. About who I am. About my family. About bein'… different."

"Different how?" he asked quietly.

"Part fae," she said, meeting his eyes. "Turns out, Gran had herself a secret lover who wasn't exactly human."

Eric blinked once. Slowly. "That explains a few things."

"Yeah," she whispered. "Tell me about it."

He was silent for a beat. Then he said, "And what do you plan to do with that knowledge?"

She shrugged. "Don't know yet. That's one of the questions I'm tryin' to answer."

Another pause.

"You said you wanted to offer somethin'," she added.

"Yes," he said. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. "Your life has changed. You'll need… support. Protection. Resources."

"I'm not askin' for charity."

"It wouldn't be," he said smoothly. "It would be... friendship."

The word landed between them like a dropped stone.

Sookie tilted her head, watching him closely. "Friendship, huh?"

He didn't smile, but his voice was warm. "Or whatever you're ready for. I am entirely at your disposal."

That sent a flutter through her chest. She swallowed it down.

"I'll think about it," she said. "Right now I'm still tryin' to remember how to cook for one and not jump every time my new phone buzzes."

Eric inclined his head, like her answer satisfied him. But he didn't move. Didn't leave. Just sat there, watching her like she might vanish if he blinked.

Sookie got up to blow out the candle—it was burning low and smelled like honey and lavender, and she didn't want him thinking she'd lit it just for him. Even if maybe, in some traitorous part of her brain, she had.

"You eaten?" she asked, over her shoulder.

Eric raised a brow. "You know I haven't."

"Well, I mean—fed. Or whatever y'all call it."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I had a bottle before I left Shreveport. I wanted to be… focused."

She rolled her eyes. "Focused. Lord, you make it sound like a job interview."

"In a way," he said, standing now. "It is."

Sookie paused by the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. "So what exactly are you interviewin' for?"

Eric stepped toward her, not too close, just enough to make the air hum. "Permission. To stay in your life, in whatever way you'll allow."

Her throat went dry. She swallowed and turned toward the kitchen, if only to break eye contact.

"Well," she said, a little too briskly, "you're in luck. I made enough dinner for two even though I ain't got any business cookin' for company."

"I'll keep you company," he offered. "Even if I'm not eating."

Sookie set her dinner down on the table and glanced at him. "You sure you don't mind watchin' me eat?"

Eric gave her that crooked little smile. "Not at all. It's strangely comforting."

She rolled her eyes and settled into the seat across from him. "Well, I ain't gonna make a habit of it. Just feels rude to eat in front of somebody."

"I'm not somebody," he said simply. "And I assure you, it doesn't offend me."

"Still," she muttered, stabbing at her roasted potatoes, "feels weird. Like I'm bein' rude to a guest."

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving her. "I'm not quite a guest, either. This is still my house—technically."

She froze mid-chew, then swallowed hard. "You plannin' on takin' it back?"

"No," he said softly. "I'd give it to you a thousand times over if it meant you stayed."

Her fork paused just shy of her plate. That was… somethin'.

"You say stuff like that and expect me not to choke?" she asked, half-laughing.

Eric only leaned back in the chair, arms loose over the rests, posture easy but gaze intense. "So you haven't changed, Sookie."

She smiled a little. "Feels like I have. Everything's gone and twisted up while I was gone. I came back to a whole other life."

"I imagine it feels like waking up in someone else's dream," he said.

She looked up, startled. "Yeah. That's exactly what it feels like."

Silence stretched between them, not awkward—just… full. She sipped her sweet tea, and he sat there, still as stone, just watchin' her. Not like a man watchin' a woman. Like someone taking in a miracle.

She tried not to let it get to her. But her cheeks were warm, and that flutter in her stomach was back, and she didn't know what to do with it.

"You could've let this house go," she said, quieter now. "Sold it. Moved on."

"I didn't want to," Eric said. "And I don't move on easily."

She took another slow sip, thinking. "You really waited all this time?"

"I didn't wait in a tower," he said dryly. "I didn't pine. But I never stopped lookin'."

Her eyes lifted to his. "Why? Eric, just… why? It doesn't make any sense"

Eric didn't blink. "Because I knew you weren't gone. Not really. I could feel it. If you had died, I would have felt it, the connection to your emotions would have been severed. That never happened."

"So, you can still... feel me?" Sookie asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Loud and clear now that you're close, I find it very distracting."

A chill moved down her spine. Not fear—just that odd, soul-deep recognition. Like the universe had tilted just a little closer to right.

"You say things like that and then tell me you're just here as a friend," she murmured.

Eric stood slowly, not in a rush. Just… deliberate. "I'm here as whatever you need. A friend. A shadow. A sword, if it comes to that."

"That sounds real romantic, comin' from a vampire," she said, standing too and crossing her arms, pretending to be unaffected.

"I can be romantic," he said, stepping a fraction closer. "I just haven't been, in a very long time."

They stood there, a breath apart. Her heart beat fast, and she was sure he could hear it. He didn't reach for her. Didn't touch her. Just looked.

"I should go," he said, finally. His voice was soft. "Before I overstay whatever this was."

Sookie didn't move. "You don't have to rush off."

Eric's gaze held hers. "If I stay longer, I might forget what I promised."

"What's that?"

"That I wouldn't ask for anything you weren't ready to give."

Sookie's voice caught in her throat. She nodded, once. "Okay."

He turned toward the door, then paused again. "I'll check in tomorrow. If you want."

"I do," she said, barely louder than a whisper.

He stood ready to go and suddenly, she felt the urge. "Eric? Do you really have to go?"she whispered. He smiled back and kept his seat. She was asking him to stay. That was something.

Sookie sipped her tea slower now, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. She could feel Eric's eyes on her, and Lord help her, she didn't hate it. Quite the opposite.

He hadn't moved from that chair. Just sat there, long legs stretched out, hands resting on the arms like he was carved from stillness. But his eyes — those glacier-blue eyes — tracked every little twitch of hers. Like she was the moon and he was figurin' how to orbit her.

"You don't blink much, do ya?" she asked, feigning casual while her heartbeat tap-danced.

"I don't like missing things," he said. "You especially."

Sookie flushed and looked down at her plate, mostly empty now. "I ain't doin' nothin' special. Just eatin' supper."

He tilted his head. "You always underestimate the effect you have."

She gave a little huff and set her glass down. "Don't start flatterin' me, Eric. I got enough confusion floatin' around in my head without you addin' to it."

He didn't smile. But his voice softened. "I'm not flattering. Just observing. You asked why I came tonight — this is why. To offer you my help… formally."

That made her sit up straighter. "Formally?"

Eric leaned forward, his tone careful, like he was explainin' somethin' in a language he wasn't sure she spoke. "In our world — the vampire world — protection has… meaning. If I claim you, it ensures that others will not. That no one would dare harm you, coerce you, or use your blood without consequence."

Sookie's mouth opened. Then shut. Then opened again. "Claim me? I thought you said friendship, I knew it!"

"Yes, I said friendship."

She blinked. "But you will have to own me?"

"No," he said quickly, and his voice took on a sharp edge, like the word offended him. "Not own. Not control. It will not be about possession. It will be about… declaration."

"You'd be tellin' folks I'm yours," she said flatly, brows lifted. "Even though I ain't."

Eric looked down for the first time, like the floor had suddenly become mighty interestin'. "It will not be a… physical bond. Not unless you want it to be. There's no expectation. Just security. Influence. I have power, Sookie. I could use it to shield you."

"And what would I be in return?"

He looked up, and she saw it then — the flicker of something rare in his expression. Uncertainty.

"You'd be under my protection," he said, quietly. "You wouldn't owe me anything. Not your body. Not your heart. Just… let me keep you safe. Please" Eric Northman was begging. Holy shit, Sookie thought.

Sookie stared at him. "You mean like some vampire insurance policy?" Trying to remain composed.

That coaxed a real smile from him — faint, but honest. "If you want to think of it that way."

"And this is normal? In your world?"

"Yes," he said. "I mean, it normally involves sex. And it is not always offered lightly. But in our case, I would never force you to do anything you don't want to"

She narrowed her eyes. "So why me?"

Eric's gaze locked on hers, unflinching. "Because you're worth it. And because I can't watch you go unprotected — not in this world, not now. You have to stay calm without distractions in order to make the best possible decision, whatever that may be."

Her breath caught. He wasn't seducing her, not in the way he used to. He wasn't using charm or smirks or sultry glances. He was just sitting there, honest as daylight was rare to him.

"Eric…" Her voice was too soft, her walls too thin. She wanted to tell him that he was already distracting her.

"You don't have to decide now," he said, standing slowly. "Just think about it. If you accept… I'll make it known. Quietly. Respectfully. We would have to exchange blood, of course, so I carry your smell and you mine."

Sookie stood too, arms folded, tryin' to anchor herself.

"And what about you?" she asked. "What do you get outta this? There's no gonna be sex or regular blood for ya".

He blinked. A slow, strange shift passed over his face.

"I don't know," he said. "Not yet."

That scared her more than anything else. Because Eric Northman always knew. Always calculated. Always led with purpose.

Sookie leaned against the edge of the dining table, arms still crossed — though now more to keep herself from reaching out than from any real chill.

Eric hadn't moved yet. He stood a few feet away, but the air between them had changed — thicker now. Charged.

"I thought vampires didn't go 'round makin' offers outta the goodness of their cold little hearts," she said, her voice just a bit too breathy.

Eric's eyes flicked to her lips before he answered. "You're not most people."

"And you're not as smooth as you think." She grinned — or tried to. But her pulse was racing. Lord help her, it was hot in here. Maybe she should open a window. Maybe she should stop lookin' at him like that.

He stepped closer. One step. Just enough to make her breath hitch.

"You're right," he said, voice like silk sliding over steel. "Usually I don't hesitate. I don't ask. I take."

She swallowed. Hard.

"But with you…" His gaze dipped again, this time taking in the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone, before slowly rising to her eyes. "I've never wanted to get it wrong."

That knocked the wind right out of her.

"You always seemed real sure of yourself," she said, her voice softer now, slipping somewhere between playful and vulnerable.

"I was." He closed the space between them by another inch.

Her whole body lit up like a live wire. "Eric…" It was a warning, or maybe a plea.

He tilted his head, studying her like a man starving and not sure if he should take a bite. "You said you weren't interested. But your heart's pounding so loud I can hear it."

"Well maybe you should stop listenin'!" she shot back, cheeks pink.

"I've tried," he said, and for once, it didn't sound like a line. "For five years, I tried."

That left her speechless. Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and rested her hand against his chest. It was solid. Cool. Unmoving. And yet she could feel the tension under his skin — the way he was holding himself perfectly still. As if the moment she touched him, the floor had disappeared.

Eric's eyes dropped to her hand, then rose slowly, reverently, to her face.

"I don't want to scare you," he said lowly.

"You don't," she whispered, even though her knees weren't so sure.

"I want to protect you."

"I know."

"And I want to stay." He stepped even closer now, just a breath apart. "But not if you're gonna hate yourself for lettin' me."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, heart on fire.

"I don't hate myself," she said. "I just… don't trust what I'm feelin'."

He nodded. That understanding in his eyes — deep, quiet, respectful. Then — gently, slowly — he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek, lingered just a second too long. Her breath caught.

She cleared her throat, arms folding tight again like a shield, and decided to change the topic for a while. "So… what about you?" she asked, eyes flicking up to meet his. "What've you been doin' the last five years? Besides renovatin' old houses and hauntin' graveyards."

His brow quirked. "Fangtasia is still standing, doing very well, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't, but now that you mention it…"

He smirked. "It's profitable. Boring, but profitable. Pam runs most of it now. I've taken a step back."

"That doesn't sound like the Eric Northman I knew."

"The one you knew was… restless," he said, voice quiet. "After you disappeared, I wasn't."

She blinked at that. "So you've just been sittin' around broodin' and readin' fairy scrolls?"

"I also threatened a few witches," he said dryly. "And maybe a seer in Prague."

She laughed, genuinely. "Of course you did."

A pause. Then she tilted her head, teasing glint in her eye. "And what about fangbangers? You got yourself a little human harem these days, Sheriff?"

His smile widened, slow and knowing. "Jealous?"

She scoffed, her blush giving her away. "Curious."

"Well," he drawled, stepping just a bit closer again, "there were offers. Plenty. One even claimed she wanted to bear my vampire children."

Sookie blinked. "That ain't how any of this works."

"I told her that. She cried." He shrugged like he wasn't remotely sorry.

"And did you…?" she trailed off, not quite sure why she wanted to know.

"Occasionally. No one stayed." His tone was calm, but his eyes held a challenge. "Why? Would it matter?"

"No," she said too quickly.

He nodded, as if confirming something for himself. "Because I belong to no one."

There was something heavy in the air now, sticky like heat before a thunderstorm. For a moment, Sookie seriously considered ending the torture and having him right there on the floor of her house.

"I wasn't askin'," she said softly, though her voice didn't carry the weight it should've.

"You weren't," he agreed. "But part of you wondered."

She didn't deny it.

Then he added, "You should know… I haven't invited anyone into this house."

She looked up, startled. "No one?"

He shook his head. "No one since you left. I couldn't. It was still yours."

Her throat tightened. "It's just a house, Eric."

"No," he said, his voice like velvet and iron all at once. "It was your home. And I didn't want to share that with anyone."

The silence that followed wrapped around them like dusk. After a moment, Sookie stepped back again, trying to steady herself. Her heart was all tangled up with things she didn't want to name.

"I should… check on somethin'," she mumbled, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen.

Eric gave a faint bow of his head. "Then I'll go."

He turned toward the door.

"Eric?"

He looked back. His expression softened instantly at the sound of his name from her lips.

"Thanks. For not lettin' it fall apart."

He nodded. "I'll be nearby. If anything happens… anything at all…"

"I know," she whispered.

And with that, he left — quiet as ever, but leaving a storm behind in her chest.

It wasn't even 8:30 when Eric left, but it felt later. The house seemed bigger without him in it, like all the shadows had stretched out the moment he stepped out the door.

Sookie tried watching a movie—something light, silly, with pretty people falling in love in New York or Paris or wherever—but she couldn't focus for nothing. Every time someone on screen kissed or said something sweet, her mind wandered straight back to tall, blond, and undead.

Eventually, she gave up, washed her face, and pulled on an old pair of flannel pajamas—blue plaid with a missing button she never got around to fixing. The house was quiet as a ghost. Too quiet. She tossed and turned, flipped her pillow a dozen times, but sleep wouldn't come.

So she gave up.

By midnight, she was sitting out on the porch in the dark, a chipped mug of sweet tea cupped between her hands, her feet tucked under her, wrapped in a blanket, it was late October after all. The night air was cool against her skin, and the crickets were loud, like they were trying to fill in all the silence she couldn't stand.

She didn't know what she was doing out there, really. Just… thinking. Wondering what was happening. With her life. With the world. With Eric.

He was kind. He was distant, but close at the same time. He was honest—maybe too honest—and still mysterious in a way that made her heart trip over itself. She didn't want to be flattered by his attention, but there it was. That flutter in her chest when he looked at her like she was something rare. Something worth waiting five years for.

That couldn't be real, could it? She took another sip of her tea, the sugar coating her tongue, and then whispered his name. Just softly.

"Eric."

Too loud for a whisper. Too soft for a call.

She stood, pulling her robe a little tighter, fixing the blanket, and turned toward the door. But before she could open it—

"Sookie?"

She froze. The cup in her hand rattled just a little on the rim. That voice. She knew it like her own heartbeat. She turned slowly, blinking into the moonlight—and there he was again, at the edge of her yard. Eric. Standing under the oaks like he'd been summoned. Maybe he had.

"You didn't leave, did you?" Sookie asked.

Eric shook his head. "What are you doing on your porch at midnight? You know it's dangerous out here. I can't protect you if you expose yourself like this. I thought we'd already gotten past this." Eric moved closer, somewhat annoyed, much to Sookie's dismay. He was scolding her.

"It's my house, my own land. Why can't I? How ridiculous!" Stubborn as ever.

"You're exposing yourself, don't you understand? I want to keep you alive, Sookie." His tone now had a hint of pleading.

"Eric, just let it go already. What are you playing at with me? You offer me only friendship, but I'm not stupid. I can feel that it's somethin' more. Are you goin' to seduce me until I give in and open my legs to you?"

"Sassy Sookie." He chuckled. "No, it's not like that. I don't know how to explain it, really, just..." Eric never stuttered. He let out a big sigh and approached her, leading her inside her house and closing the door behind him. Now they were on safe ground, even though the house was registered to a vampire. He was already looking at transferring it under her name. He took her face in his hands. "Sookie, I can't answer all your questions, I don't have the answers myself, but believe me when I say that I have never felt such a need to protect someone in my more than a thousand years of existence. I would never forgive myself if I lost you again."

"But you didn't lose me... you never really had me either. As far as I know, I kicked you out of my life along with Bill and all the supernatural beings that were hanging around me, two days ago" She corrected him, trying to escape from his hands, which were now caressing her neck.

Just then, Sookie received a message from Claudine on her phone: "Why is it so hard for you to let go?" Was she spying on her, Sookie wondered. She rolled his eyes and replied quickly, "Because I can't trust him."

Sookie tried to move so Eric couldn't read her phone, but his eyes were much quicker than she was. He smiled. That was all? Eric asked himself. He could work on gaining her trust.

Sookie looked back at him just as Claudine replied, "Something tells me you should. Good luck, cousin! If you need it, I left some new lingerie in one of your drawers in your bedroom ;)" Fairy godmother? Who was she helping, her or the vampire?

She turned off her phone. She took Eric's hand. "I couldn't sleep. I tried, but... I'm a little distracted. Can you stay a little longer? Or do you have to go back?"

"No, I cleared my whole night for you." Sookie smiled at that. How thoughtful. Even though she knew there would be no sex. Huh.

Eric sat on the couch while Sookie reheated her tea.

"I like the smell. It reminds me of you." Eric said.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned warm again. "Lord, you say things like that and then expect me to sleep."

He tilted his head. "Do you want to sleep?"

"No," she admitted. "Not really."

They sat side by side on the couch now, a small blanket thrown over her lap. The TV flickered silently in the background, forgotten. The silence between them was softer now—like something worn in and familiar.

After a moment, she looked at him. "So… what now? You just gonna keep watchin' me breathe until sunrise?"

"If that's what you want," he said simply.

Sookie let out a half-laugh, and then, surprising herself, leaned her head gently against his shoulder. Not all the way. Just enough.

Eric didn't move. Didn't startle. Just stayed still and let her be.

His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. "I did build a place to stay. In this house."

She blinked. "You mean like a… a cubby?"

He nodded, slowly. "It's hidden. Safe. Just in case."

"In case of what?" she asked.

"In case you wanted me here. In case you needed me. Or…" He paused. "In case I couldn't stay away."

Sookie closed her eyes for a moment. The man had made a vampire panic room in her guest closet and never told her. She should be mad. Maybe she would be—tomorrow.

Right now, she just whispered, "You're real weird, Eric Northman."

"I've been told."

She smiled. "But thank you."

He nodded again, and they sat like that for a long while—no declarations, no sparks flying. Just stillness. A silence that held something new. Not the ache of what they'd lost, but the fragile beginning of something else.

Eventually, Sookie murmured, "You can use your cubby tonight. If you want."

Eric turned his head slightly, just enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. "Only if it makes you feel safer."

"It does." And it did. For the first time in five years—or an hour and fifteen minutes, depending how you counted—she felt like maybe she wasn't alone in the world after all.

They spent the rest of the hours talking about life like they had never done before. He told her some anecdotes about his time without her when he was following clues. He told her that he got into more than one problem with some witches, but in the end, it all came down to this moment, seeing her there, alive, back. It was all worth it.

"Why have we never talked like this before?" Sookie asked, sitting on the sofa and looking at him.

"I don't know, too much political conflict, maybe? It's not that I didn't want to, you just didn't seem... available."

"Bill..." Sookie murmured.

"Partly, yes, but even if Bill hadn't existed, would you have agreed to let me get close to you?" Eric raised an eyebrow.

Sookie thought about it for a moment. "I think Bill definitely delayed the process," she said confidently.

Eric was surprised, his eyes wide. "Is that so? Interesting. So…" Eric moved closer to her, just a little. "Now that he's gone... a penny for your thoughts on what I should do to get closer to you and not push you away?"

Sookie couldn't breathe, her heart skipped more than a beat, and she was sure she was going to faint. Eric wasn't being clear about what he wanted, but at the same time, it couldn't be more obvious. Should she really trust him? Eric had failed her several times, yes, but he had also proven how much he cared about her on multiple occasions, the most recent being his five-year wait while everyone else had moved on with their lives. Sookie didn't really blame them, it was just that Eric's gesture inevitably stood out.

"Sookie?" Eric asked, because Sookie hadn't responded yet.

"Huh?" Sookie said, letting out a sigh. Eric was now a little closer to her.

"Will you tell me? What should I do in the hypothetical case that... I want our agreement to be more than friendship? Hypothetical, of course." Eric reached out his hand to caress one of hers.

"Eric..." Her head was spinning a mile a minute. Claudine's voice popped into her head. She took the risk. She really had nothing to lose. "Eric, your concept of... 'more than friendship' is very different from mine. I could never be with you the way I was with Bill." Ouch, Eric thought. That hurt. "What do you mean?"

"You don't commit to relationships, you don't believe in that, you live without ties. Going from one fangbanger to another is what you like..." Eric interrupted her. She couldn't be more wrong. "That's not what I want. I can survive perfectly well without that. Is that what you think of me? Do you really think that I couldn't see enough woman in you to commit to you in a relationship, to give you the fidelity you so desire?"

Eric had a look that clearly showed his pain. She had pierced his heart.

"It's not that..." Sookie didn't want to hurt him any more.

"Then what?" Eric sounded a little annoyed now, but he maintained his posture and his caress on her hand.

"Eric, you're the great Viking vampire sheriff, over a thousand years old, who all the women drool over when you walk by, who literally want to be the mothers of your vampire babies. And you love that attention. You would never want to leave that. You would get bored. Eventually, you would look for some other entertainment. And whether I live another 50 or 500 years, I'm not looking for something temporary, Eric." Eric leaned back a little... 500 years, she said? "I'm a woman who believes in love as a substantial part of life. I'm a Christian. I'm not looking to have boyfriend after boyfriend. I want stability, security, commitment, someone who will always be there and at the same time, make every day an adventure. Someone who makes me laugh even when I just want to cry, who supports me, who won't let me fall when everyone around me starts dying and I'm still here, damn it." Sookie began to cry. She had to get this off her chest.

Eric approached her and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her pain very clearly, as if it were his own. He cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently, stroking her hair, absorbing her delicious scent. It was not a time to respond, only to contain.

Sookie continued to cry, but the intensity was decreasing, and little by little, she began to straighten up on the sofa, untangle from his arms, and regain her posture.

She stared at him, just as before, took his hand, and said, "Eric, I'm looking for someone forever, not someone that uses me for sex and blood whenever you need it. That's not me, and honestly, I think you're looking in the wrong place."

Eric wanted to break something. He felt angry. The person he least wanted to think that way about him was now telling him that he would never be able to... what, love her? He didn't love her yet, he thought, right? but he could come to love her.

He had two options: either be direct with her or simply keep his response and feelings to himself, as was his custom, and continue wasting valuable time with this wonderful creature. He opted for the former; five years had been enough.

He approached her, almost as if stalking his prey, took both of Sookie's hands and placed them on his chest, as if there was something beating there and she could feel it. "Sookie, five years were enough for me, I don't need any more time to be sure that I can be that person... if you let me. I know I've failed before, but you're not the only one who's changed lately. I'll do anything to not spend another minute away from you. I'll do whatever you want to prove that I can give you what you desire, Sookie. Ask for whatever you want, name it, and it will be done."

Sookie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was this what Claudine meant? Was she supposed to trust this? Sookie thought about her answer for a few seconds, never taking her eyes off those mesmerizing blue eyes, feeling her heart beating faster and faster. Eric must have taken it as background music by now.

It took her a few more seconds to see beyond his eyes, his golden hair falling messily over his forehead, his eyebrows showing some concern and… pain? His lips forming a line, without much expression, waiting for her answer to unleash whatever they were holding back. What were her options, really? She couldn't explain it yet, but she felt that there was something between her and Eric, no one could deny it.

The only question here was whether Eric could be the person she was looking for. Was there a gentle, loving, romantic, understanding, patient, caring man hiding behind that image of the ruthless Sheriff of Area 5? Sookie had never felt more like a fairy than at that moment; she truly felt like a tremendously beautiful, captivating, and delicate creature. That fairy couldn't end up drained by the neighborhood's evil vampire, right? No one wants that.

She decided, once again, that she had nothing to lose. What she was about to ask was extremely difficult for a normal womanizer to achieve, let alone a vampire, where the act of feeding was inextricably linked to something else.

"All right, don't have sex for a month, with anyone, much less me."

That's it? Eric snorted in his mind. A month was nothing. Sookie had no idea that he had gone the entire first year since her disappearance without sex. Eric wanted to show her that he was serious.

"Let's make it three," he said with conviction.

Sookie looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure? You can't try to have sex with me either."

"Sookie, I'll do anything to prove my worth to you. A month or three is nothing compared to what I would earn after… Anything else?"

Sookie thought for a moment about what else she could ask of him. This was certainly the moment. "And don't try to feed on me. Prove to me that I'm not just a walking bag of exquisite, addictive blood for ya."

Eric frowned. "You're not that to me. If I only wanted your blood, I could have taken it already, and you wouldn't have been able to stop me. And since this is my house, I wouldn't need your permission to come in and do it."

It was true, Sookie thought, but still. "Anything else?" Eric asked again. God, he was really in.

"All right, um... I can say no to anything, you can't force me. And I want one act of kindness per week. You'll share something personal with me every week. You can't keep using your strength to intimidate my friends or family like before. And we'll see each other every week and..."

Eric interrupted her, smiling. This was going better than he had expected. She was giving him permission to court her, without knowing it. "Sookie, give me something more complicated, please," He said, tilting his head to one side and leaning in a little closer.

"Don't steal kisses from me. We'll keep our boundaries and... if you fall in love with me, you have to tell me." Sookie said the last thing, unable to hold Eric's gaze and trying to move away a little, even though she was already on the edge of the sofa.

Eric stopped smiling. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, but it was certainly the most difficult condition to fulfill. If it came to that, he knew it would be hard for him to share his feelings just like that, without any assurance that if he gave his heart to this woman, she wouldn't break it. A vampire has his reasons for restraining himself from these emotions; they make him vulnerable, and inevitably he ends up giving her all the power and control over him.

What Sookie didn't know or didn't fully understand, and the reason why he knew Bill still loved her, wherever he was and no matter the time that passed, was that when a vampire allows himself to feel those emotions, he feels them much more deeply and intensely than a human, or in this case, a fairy hybrid, as far as he knew. It would be very difficult for him to fall out of love with her, if he ever does. If he allowed himself to feel love for her. If that were to happen, it would probably be the end of his existence. His whole life would be in the hands of this magical creature who, in his eyes, seemed to shine brighter every second.

"Okay, I can do it. I guess I have to admit that it will hurt not being able to kiss you. It's all I've thought about these past few years. Among other things." He moved an inch closer, now in her personal space. "Are you sure you can't make an exception?" He took one of her cheeks and quickly caressed her lips with his thumb.

Sookie stopped breathing, definitely. Does Eric know CPR? She would need it.

"Friends don't kiss, you're offering me friendship, right?"

"Then will you accept my offer?" A spark of happiness flashed across her eyes and a big smile began to appear on her face.

"Yes, under those conditions, you can make it public that I'm under your protection."

"Thank you, you've made me very happy indeed." He caressed her lips again. "Can I ask for just one thing? Just once?" Sookie already knew what he would ask for and, in fact, had been waiting for him to do so.

Eric leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on her lips like he was reading a prayer written there.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears, and something deep in her chest clenched so tight she thought her heart might actually stop. A second passed. Then two. He didn't move. Didn't push. Just watched her with a reverence that stole the air clean out of her lungs.

"I…I…" she stuttered. Eric understood that Sookie wasn't ready.

So, he simply reached out and brushed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers, featherlight. A motion so delicate it felt like a question, not a touch. His eyes flicked to hers. When she didn't flinch, he leaned forward—not to capture her mouth, but to rest his forehead against hers. Their noses almost touched. Their breaths tangled in the small space between them.

"I missed this face," he murmured. "Even when I tried so hard not to."

Sookie's hands were clenched in her lap. She could feel the warmth radiating off her own cheeks, the way her whole body went tense trying not to tremble.

"You tried not to miss me?" she murmured.

"Believe it or not, there are many things I forbid myself to feel."

And then—he pressed the softest kiss to her cheek, right near the corner of her mouth. His lips barely touched skin.

She closed her eyes. He didn't linger. When he pulled back, he was already retreating—to the edge of the couch, to the doorway of something unspoken. But his eyes lingered, and his voice, when he spoke again, was low.

"I'll keep my word, Sookie. I won't be staying today, but I'll be back. I'm intrigued to know whatever this is." He said, waving his hand and pointing at himself and me.

Sookie nodded, slowly, watching him as he stood and moved toward the front door. Her heart beat loud in her ears.

"Goodnight, Miss Stackhouse," he said with a half-smile, almost boyish.

And before she could think too hard about what had almost happened, or what had definitely not happened, she answered: "Goodnight, Mr. Northman, and Eric?"

He stopped and looked at her. "Thanks for the car, really"

"Any time" Eric smiled and the door clicked softly behind him.

And she exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6.

The road back to Shreveport was empty, and still, he didn't push the speed limit. He could've flown. Could've blurred into mist and vanished across the night sky. That was more his style—quick, clean, distant. But not tonight.

Tonight, he needed the slow hum of tires on asphalt. Something grounding. Something real. Because nothing about what just happened inside that farmhouse felt real.

She was there. Not a dream. Not a fevered imagining conjured after too many nights pacing the empty halls of her house. Not a whisper of her scent that vanished the second he turned his head. She was real, breathing, beautiful—and confusing as hell.

He still smelled her on his skin. Lavender and sunlight. He gripped the wheel tighter.

He hadn't realized how much of himself had shut down after she disappeared. It wasn't a conscious decision—Eric didn't wallow, didn't mourn. He'd seen lovers die. Friends vanish. Time devours empires. He had seen his own maker die. He was used to endings.

But Sookie hadn't ended. She had paused.

The first year, he searched. Discreetly, obsessively. Called in debts, summoned witches, read old scrolls. He tore through every text on fae lore he could get his hands on—most of it trash. Some of it… haunting. He'd even gone to Niall's old haunts in Europe, hoping for a whisper of blood connection.

The second year, after he bought her house, he renovated it. Quietly. Ruthlessly. Gutted everything that had been broken or bled on. Hired humans to do the daytime work. Left her room untouched. He told himself it was out of respect. It was penance.

By the third year, he stopped going inside. He'd stand on the porch some nights, silent and still, like a sentinel. Just… hoping. Not even knowing what he hoped for anymore. Many nights he wondered if he was doing the right thing, putting his whole life on hold for a fragile human who, for a thousand reasons, could well be dead by now. His immortal time at the mercy of this tireless wait did not seem sensible to him.

Pam had mocked him. "You're brooding. It doesn't suit you." He had snapped at her. She'd snapped back. Then she stopped mentioning Sookie altogether.

By year four, he started doubting himself that maybe she was really dead and gone. No, I would feel it, he repeated. It's not that.

By year five, he had started to resign himself to eternity without her. Maybe she wasn't dead, but it was perfectly possible that she wouldn't come back. Why would she? The last time had been a disaster. Sookie just wanted to disappear from this supernatural world that had been forced upon her.

He mulled over this possibility. Not in pain. Not in rage. Just the ache of knowing that the only person he had ever felt the slightest urge to protect with his own life, and who encouraged him to discover hidden things about himself, was gone. He knew there would never be another Sookie, not in a thousand years, and the world seemed grayer for it.

He never really had her, only fleeting, distant moments, and yet he realized that even that was now necessary for him to continue his existence. How could he do it? He had forgotten what his life was like before her, how to review the directions and pick up where he left off, before losing his way and meaning because of a human who did not want him or accept him in her life. And yet, he was still there. When did I become such an idiot? I'm better than this.

And now…out of nowhere, she was back, as if nothing had happened, but at the same time, everything. And she was talking about rules. To him. To the fucking thousand-year-old merciless Viking Vampire Sheriff. A woman in her thirties was laying down the law. And he let her.

No sex with anyone. No blood from her. No lovers. No touching, no claiming. Kindness, sharing. And he'd agreed.

Not because he was weak. Or maybe he was? What would his life be like now if he showed himself to be so weak and easily manipulated by her?
He wasn't in love either—he didn't do love. He would cling to that with all his might, the only control he had left. That was a luxury for humans with time to waste. Vampires didn't love. They possessed. They took whatever they wanted, fed, protected, and, sometimes, if the bond was deep enough, they endured.

But now he wasn't sure. Because tonight, when it was time to seal the deal, he just leaned into kiss her cheek. What the fuck is going on here?

He wanted to protect her. From danger, from death, from any harm, from heartbreak. From himself. He'd never wanted to be worthy of someone before. He wasn't sure if he even knew how.

His phone buzzed. Pam.

"You're brooding again. I can feel it from here."

He didn't reply. Instead, he slowed at the lights outside Shreveport and whispered her name—just once.

The metallic thump of the club's back door echoed as it slammed shut behind Eric. The scent of sweat, vodka, and synthetic blood still lingered in the air. Fangtasia was quiet now—staff finishing cleanup, the last few patrons being ushered out. Music had stopped. Neon lights buzzed lazily overhead. He moved through it all without a word, a silent force of purpose, until he reached his office.

Pam was on his heels before the door even closed.

"Alright," she said, arms crossed, one brow arched like she could command a confession with a look alone. "Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, or do I have to make some very creative guesses?"

Eric unbuttoned the top of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he sank into the leather chair behind his desk. He didn't look at her. "She's back."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Yes. I was there. And then you disappeared for hours, leaving me to deal with the cleanup crew, two tourists who needed stitches, and a drunk werewolf in the women's bathroom."

He raised a brow. "You handled it."

"I always do. What I don't do is sit here twiddling my thumbs while you go off brooding and pretending like this isn't driving you insane."

He shot her a look.

Pam rolled her eyes and sank into the leather chair across from him, legs crossed. "So. The prodigal telepath has returned. You don't look thrilled."

"I am," he said. "I just don't trust it."

"Claudine brought her back?"

He nodded. "She came back by herself, claiming it was only an hour for her. But it's been five years, Pam. Five years of nothing, no scent, no tie…"

Pam tilted her head, assessing him. "And now?"

"Now I can feel her again. Stronger than before. More…" He searched for the word, then gave up. "She's different. Fae blood does that."

Pam twirled a lock of her golden hair. "So. What now? You going to try to reclaim her? Stake your little claim like an old Southern gentleman?"

Eric straightened. "I already offered her my protection, as a friend."

"A friend?" she asked, smirking. "That sounds... uncharacteristic."

He gave her a cool glance. "I can't afford to lose her again."

Pam stared at him. For the first time in years, she looked genuinely concerned. "Eric… you're different too."

"I had five years," he said quietly. "Five years to imagine every way she might have died. Or been trapped. Or hurt. And I couldn't do anything. Do you know what that does to someone like me?"

She didn't answer.

"I'm not the same vampire who met her," he added. "And maybe that's the problem."

Pam sighed and rose from her seat. She leaned against the desk, studying him with uncharacteristic softness.

"I want you to be happy, Eric. I really do. But I've only seen you come undone once. And I didn't like it."

"I'm not undone."

"No," she said, "but you're fraying at the edges."

He didn't argue.

"I'll help you," she said. "But if you lose yourself chasing a girl who only ever wanted to be normal, don't ask me to pick up the pieces."

"She's not a girl anymore," he said. "And I'm not chasing."

Pam narrowed her eyes. "Then what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. Not with words.

After a long pause, she shifted. "Fine. So long as you're not lying to yourself."

Eric stood abruptly. Too fast. Even Pam flinched.

"I'm not lying to myself, Pam," he said. "I am trying not to fall apart."

She hesitated, visibly conflicted. Pam didn't like emotion—it complicated things. Made people weak. But she also wasn't blind. For five years, Eric Northman had been a ghost in his own kingdom. Dangerous still, cold and commanding, but empty. Hollowed out.

"I understand you don't like her being back," Eric continued, turning toward the window. "You think she'll distract me."

"I know she will," Pam said. "You're already halfway there."

"I can't lose her again, Pam, FUCK"

"She. is. not. yours."

"Do you think I don't fucking know that?! I'm not trying to own her." He paused. "But I need her to stay. And she's... she's so lost right now. She comes back and everyone around her has left and moved on. If I push too hard, she'll run. And I think she might really go this time. Back to that place and I won't be able to follow her."

Pam sat down slowly on the edge of his desk. "What do you need from me?"

He turned, surprised. "You'll help?"

"I'll try," she muttered. "But only because I can't stand the look on your face. You're a fucking-bloody mess. And I liked you better when you were ruthless and well-groomed."

Eric gave a humorless smile. "Thank you."

"But if you're going to fall in love with her and then die dramatically because someone targets her to hurt you… I'm out. I won't stick around to watch that happen."

"I'm not in love with her."

Pam raised a perfect brow. "You sure about that?"

His jaw tightened. "I don't know what this is. It isn't… what it used to be. I've wanted things before. Claimed them. But this… this is not a possession."

"No," she said quietly. "It's disgusting devotion."

He didn't answer.

Pam sighed. "So, what's the plan?"

"Keep watch on her house. Quietly. I don't want her knowing we've got eyes on her, unless necessary. Send the best team to sweep the perimeter and upgrade her wards—discreetly. If there's anything unstable in the magical barrier, I want it replaced."

Pam nodded. "Consider it done."

"And…" He paused, struggling with the next words. "If she starts seeing people—human or otherwise—I want to know. Not because I want to control her. But because if she's vulnerable, I need to anticipate it."

Pam gave him a long look. "Shit, you really are afraid of losing her again."

"Yes."

There was a knock at the office door. Thalia poked her head in. "We're done for the night."

"Good," Eric said. She left without another word.

Pam shifted, brushing imaginary lint off her slacks. "Before you start drawing up love poems and building a shrine, I need to tell you something."

Eric turned back toward her, grateful for the change in tone.

"There are whispers. Sophie-Anne's court is fracturing. The west—I don't know, Nevada maybe?—there's talk of a planned move."

Eric narrowed his eyes. "A takeover?"

"Possibly. They think she's weak. That her alliances are thin. Louisiana's still standing only because the rest of the country thinks we're not worth the trouble. But if someone calls her bluff…"

"They'll come for all of us."

Pam nodded. "We need to get ahead of it. Either prop her up or prepare to defend ourselves."

Eric rubbed his temple. "I don't care much for her, but instability at the top will only make us targets."

"And you don't have the luxury of distraction," Pam added, voice cool again.

He gave her a look. "I don't forget what I am, Pamela."

"No," she said. "But you are forgetting how vampires survive. Attachment is weakness. And love? It's a horrible liability."

He leaned back against the desk, arms crossed. "Then help me be smart about it. Help me protect her, and protect us. If we lose control of the political situation now, everything will collapse."

Pam stood. "I'll start sniffing around. See where the whispers are coming from. But Eric…"

He met her eyes.

"If this ends badly, I'm not cleaning up your mess."

"Fair enough," he said. But his gaze was already elsewhere—back in Bon Temps. Back on a porch lit by soft candles, where a human-fae woman had looked at him like he might just be something worth believing in.

"You're asking a lot of me lately," she muttered.

"You're still my second."

"And you're still my maker."

They exchanged a long look.

"Goodnight, Pamela"

Pam paused at the door. "Don't wait too long to figure out what you want from her. Because when you do… she'll either still be here—or she won't."

The door clicked shut behind her.

He drove to his home, or one of them, the biggest – headlights cutting through the pitch-black Louisiana back roads. His estate lay well beyond the city, past the paved roads and strip malls, nestled deep in a private stretch of woods.

A high iron gate opened for him automatically, silent but watched. Cameras. Motion sensors. UV defense measures. Wards. Some tech, some magic. He had become very interested in magic during Sookie's absence and had become good friends with a witch from New Orleans, who helped him put protection on his house, Pam's, and Sookie'. He would have to call her now and ask her to come and check.

The gravel path curled like a ribbon through the trees until it opened to a two-story manor, timeless like the man who lived in it. Tall, with wide eaves and large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling—reinforced, retractable, light-tight. Stone and cedar. Stark, clean lines, softened by the wildflowers and shrubs in the backyard—an intentional replica of the garden that had once framed Sookie's house.

He stood in the main hall for a moment, removing his jacket. The house was quiet. He had some domestic help, but not at this hour.

The living room was minimal—sleek charcoal sofas, black and silver accents. The kitchen pristine, unused. The dining room held a long walnut table with twelve chairs.

His office—walls lined with ancient books, documents, scrolls. Evidence of decades spent chasing the unknown. On the wall, two swords resting, ready for the next battle.

He poured himself a synthetic blood from the cooler, heated it up and didn't drink it. Instead, he walked toward the back wall of glass. Outside, moonlight shone on a quiet lagoon. Frogs hummed in the distance. The same flowers as Sookie's yard swayed in the breeze—lavender, lilies, honeysuckle, daisies.

He leaned one hand against the window frame. Friendship, they have agreed. Could he bear that? Was it enough?

She smiled at him now. She let him in her home. She touched his hand. But she had not chosen him. Not yet. And perhaps she never would. He clenched his jaw at that thought and turned away.

Downstairs, beneath the main floor, were his chambers. It was stone and shadow, designed for rest, not comfort. The bed was king size, but simple, the walls lined with weapons, relics, and books.

He undressed, pulled a worn poetry volume from the bedside shelf—Rilke, in the original German—and lay down. He sent a quick message to the witch: "We need you here to adjust the protection. She's back."

The sun, distant but inevitable, pulled at his senses. He welcomed it like an old enemy, ready for one more loss. As sleep took him, he whispered to the silence:

"If all she offers is friendship… then let it be sacred." And the world faded.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7.

The morning light was soft, barely pushing through the pines as Sookie walked down the gravel lane toward the Bon Temps cemetery. She hadn't visited Gran's grave in five human years, and she didn't expect much from Jason; it was always Sookie who took care of tending the flowers and cleaning the headstone.

She walked slowly, boots crunching the gravel, until she saw it—Adele Stackhouse, carved clean into granite, the small ceramic photo still bright with her Gran's smile. She was surprised to see the place looking so neat, as if someone came every day to leave fresh flowers. Even the grass around it had grown and was greener. Old cemeteries like this one, in a tiny Louisiana town, didn't have much grass.

Sookie knelt beside the grave, brushing the dirt that wasn't really there from the stone with her fingertips.

"Hey, Gran," she whispered, and her voice cracked. "I don't honestly know if you can hear me or not... but I'm here." She sat down on the grass and crossed her legs under her skirt like she used to when she was a little girl. "You got one hell of a secret, huh? I can't blame ya, though. It's the reason for my existence. But sweet Jesus, Gran, a fairy?" She smirked and then sighed. ""I came back expecting life to pick up where it left off. It didn't. Jason's married and father to a little girl. Tara's dating. Sam closed Merlotte's and went out of town. Bill's God knows where. The world's different. And I'm different. I'm... not even sure what I am anymore."

A breeze stirred her hair and she tucked a strand behind her ear. "Time didn't pass for me like it did for everyone else. I don't even know how to explain that without soundin' crazy, but it's true. I feel like I blinked, and suddenly everything's five years older. Everyone's five years older. But me... I'm still stuck right where I left."

She took a shaky breath.

"And Eric's back in my life. Not that he ever left. He kept the house, Gran. Renovated it. Didn't let a single thing fall apart. That big old vampire... he made sure it was waitin' for me, just like I left it."

She wiped her eyes quickly. "And now I don't know what to do. He's sayin' things—soft things, not like him at all. He's tryin' to be kind. He ain't askin' nothin' from me. And that scares me more than if he had. 'Cause if he ain't playin', if this is real... then I don't know where I stand."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just need to know it's okay to trust again. That I'm not dumb for hopin'. That I still got it in me to build somethin' good. Please, give me a sign or something"

Sookie stood, brushed the grass off her skirt, and pressed her palm gently to the gravestone.

"I miss you, Gran. More than I can say. I hope you're watchin' over me. Lord knows I need it."

She stepped back and gave one last glance before heading toward her parents' grave After cleaning it, tidying it up, and putting in fresh flowers, she headed back to home.

The bell above Tara's shop door jingled as she stepped inside, the familiar chime sending a strange shiver down her spine. The place smelled of vanilla candles and the perfume of a

Racks of sundresses and beaded handbags caught the light from the front window, casting flecks of color across the polished floor. Tara always had an eye for style—Bon Temps didn't know what hit it.

Tara was bent over the counter, counting bills, her long braids pulled into a messy bun. She looked up—and froze.

Sookie smiled awkwardly. "Hey, stranger."

Tara dropped the cash register tray. It clattered and coins went rollin' everywhere.

"What the hell—" Tara gasped. "Sookie Stackhouse, you better be a damn ghost or I'm gonna faint."

"I ain't no ghost," Sookie said gently, stepping forward. "It's me."

Tara stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open like she couldn't get words to work.

"You... you died. Or got kidnapped. Or ran off with some Vamp or somethin'. We didn't know what to believe."

"I didn't die," Sookie said. "But... It's a long story. And none of it makes a lick of sense."

Tara rushed around the counter and wrapped her in a hug so tight Sookie thought her ribs might crack.

"I grieved you," Tara whispered. "I cussed you. I cried. And now you're here... Just like that?"

"I missed you too, Tara," Sookie murmured into her friend's shoulder. "I really did."

When they pulled apart, Tara looked her up and down, eyes suspicious and brimming with unshed tears.

"Alright. You owe me the whole damn story. And I mean every weird-ass bit. You look like you ain't aged a day."

Sookie grinned, a little bashful. "Let's just say time works funny where I've been."

"You didn't bring any weird creatures with ya, did ya?" Tara narrowed her eyes. "I swear, Sook, if a goblin jumps outta that car of yours, I'm callin' animal control."

Sookie laughed. "No goblins. Just... me."

Tara folded her arms. "And Eric?" Tara clearly knew that Eric had stayed close the past years.

Sookie hesitated. "He's... around."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "That fuckin' bloodsucker. You better be careful."

"I know. I am."

Tara studied her for a long moment, then finally softened. "You hungry? I was about to go out for lunch at Lafayette's food truck. I'll love seeing his face when he sees ya here, in the flesh, alive and kicking."

Sookie smiled. "I'd love that." For the first time since she came back from Fairy, something felt... normal. And she loved it.

Outside, the Louisiana sun bore down weakly, a little chilly for Sookie's taste. Sookie and Tara walked side by side, the old familiar rhythm of their steps slowly falling back into place.

Lafayette's food truck—"La-La Bites: Southern Soul on Wheels"—was parked under a big oak, its awning flapping like a lazy flag. Music pulsed low from a speaker somewhere inside, a mellow beat with a touch of blues and bounce. A hand-painted chalkboard menu read:

Gumbo Ya-Ya
Sweet Potato Fries w/ Ghost Pepper Honey
Crawfish & Grits
Vamp-Free Red Velvet Cupcakes

Tara grinned. "He had that sign made just for the fang-bangers after one got blood on his cupcakes. Damn near fought a vamp in a mesh tank top that day."

Sookie snorted. "Sounds about right."

From inside the truck came a familiar voice, bold and melodic: "If you ain't orderin' somethin' divine, get your triflin' ass out my line!"

Tara knocked on the truck's counter. "You always talk to your customers like that?"

There was a clatter inside. A pause. Then Lafayette's head popped out the window like a jack-in-the-box, head wrapped in a deep purple scarf, gold hoops swinging from his ears.

He blinked once. Twice.

"Sookie Stackhouse, what in the entire crispy-fried hell—"

Before he could finish, he flung open the side door and stepped out in full dramatic glory: skinny jeans, glittered slides, and an apron that read "Hot Sauce in My Bag—Literally."

He put both hands on his hips. "Bitch, you best explain why I'm lookin' at a ghost I buried in my heart four years ago."

Sookie opened her mouth, but no words came.

Lafayette didn't wait—he swept her into a hug so tight, her feet left the ground.

"Damn," he whispered. "Yous smell the same. Yous feel the same. Lord help me, yous really here, hooka"

"I'm really here, La-la" Sookie whispered back, tears springing again before she could stop them.

He stepped back, fanning himself dramatically. "Yous know I don't cry in public unless Beyoncé dies. Don't be testin' me today."

Tara smirked. "Told ya he'd lose it."

"I did not lose it," he sniffed. "I'm handlin' it with grace"

Sookie wiped at her eyes, laughing. "The only way ya know how, La-la."

Lafayette shook his head, looking her up and down. "Five damn years, girl. You ain't look a day older. What the hell happened to ya? Yous run off to a Supe Camp or somethin'?"

"Somethin' like that," she said, pulling at her sleeves. "I promise, I'll explain. But I just... I needed to see y'all first. See that everything's still here."

Lafayette crossed his arms. "We're here, it ain't the exact same, but wes still here, baby girl. Still breathin'. Still fabulous."

Tara leaned against the counter. "She was sayin' Eric kept her house like a shrine. Renovated it and everything."

Lafayette raised a perfectly drawn brow. "Damn. Blondie Tall-and-Cold. Still hangin' on, huh?"

"He ain't askin' nothin' of me," Sookie said, quietly. "Which is scarier than if he had."

Lafayette nodded slowly. "Yeah. That one got layers. Like an emotional onion. Or a vampire baklava."

They all laughed. The sound of it made Sookie's chest ache—but in a good way, like something broken had started healing.

He turned toward the truck. "Y'all stayin'? I got that gumbo hot and thick enough to raise the dead—present company excluded."

"Hell yeah," Tara said. "You still make that cornbread with the jalapeño honey glaze?"

"Hooka, who yous talkin' to?" He rolled his eyes and vanished back into the truck.

Sookie leaned against the side of it, the metal warm on her back. She looked at Tara. "Thank you. For not freakin' out. Or yellin'. Or thinkin' I was nuts."

"Oh I do think you nuts," Tara said. "But you always been. That's nothin' new."

Sookie grinned.

A breeze swept through, lifting the scent of onions and spices from the truck, and for a moment, she closed her eyes. The past wasn't undone, and the future was still uncertain—but for this moment, with these people, she felt a piece of herself click back into place.

Plates of steaming gumbo, sweet tea, and cornbread sat between them like offerings to the gods. Lafayette had pulled out foldable chairs and a collapsible table from the back of the truck. He lit a citronella candle and muttered something about "bugs bein' drawn to sweetness," and Sookie couldn't tell if he meant the candle or herself.

"Alright," Tara said, resting her elbow on the table, "spill it, Stackhouse. Where were you, what happened, and how come you look like you just stepped outta yesterday?"

Sookie took a sip of tea, gathering herself. "Okay. First of all, remember that day when I kicked Bill out for good? I was so upset, so hurt, and felt betrayed, I cried a lot. A little while later, a fairy appeared in my living room, not with wings, but extremely beautiful. She introduced herself as my fairy godmother and, listen to this, my cousin. She took me with her to the fairy Realm, where I was introduced to the fairy prince, who happens to be my great-grandfather, right? right?!" Sookie took a breath and smiled nervously, hoping that her lifelong friends wouldn't think she was crazy. "In short, I'm part fairy, and it was only a visit of an hour and fifteen minutes, but time works differently there than it does here, and here it was five years." She said, looking down, trying not to cry. "It's been a very difficult two days, to be honest. Yesterday I saw Jason and just came home to cry. Claudine, my fairy cousin, has been with me, but I know this is somethin' I have to go through alone. I'm 32 legally, I know, maybe I should be thankful that my body still looks 27". She tried to laugh.

Tara and Lafayette let out the breath they had been holding. Tara broked the silence, shaking her head. "Damn girl, what a story!" She sighed and took one of Sookie's hands. "We didn't know what to believe, Sook. Some folks said you died. Others swore you just ran off with one of them vampire kings. I cussed you. A lot. Cried. And then I opened the store. Figured I couldn't wait around anymore. I'm sorry, Sookie."

"Tell me about it," Sookie said, eyes warm.

Tara smiled. "Two years ago, I finally did it. Opened Bon Temps Style Boutique. Clothes, accessories, a few beauty products. I saved every damn penny I could. Naomi helped with a little loan."

"Naomi?"

Tara chuckled. "Oh, she came to Bon Temps a year after your..." Tara hesitated for a second. "Well, she was a boxer from New Orleans, she suffered a serious injury in a fight and she couldn't continue in the same way. She ended up here, in this godforsaken town, opening a boxing school, and that's where we met. We've been together ever since and got engaged a few months ago. You know, someday it will be legal and we'll do it."

"Sweet Jesus, Tara Thornton, flirting with the teacher? Engaged?!" Sookie teased her. Tara shrugged and laughed. "Tara, that's wonderful. I'm real happy for ya. And you know, you don't have to wait for it to be legal to do it, we can do somethin' anyway"

Tara looked down, sheepish. "Thanks. She keeps me grounded. After you disappeared, I needed somethin' real."

"And you?" Sookie asked, turning to Lafayette. "You said you got a new man now?"

"Mmmhmm," Lafayette said, a smirk curling his lips. "Name's Jesus. And no, we don't do biblical roleplay, so don't even go there, hooka."

Sookie laughed, hands raised. "I wasn't gonna say anythin'!"

"Met him at the retirement home, back when Momma was still alive. He was one of the nurses. Patient, fine as hell, smart too, good ass. And he gets me. Doesn't flinch when I get dramatic. Hell, he even joins in. He's a brujo, a witch."

Tara nodded. "He treats La-La right. I'd cut him otherwise."

"She ain't lyin'," Lafayette said. "Tara got a blade in her purse and anger issues."

"Only when necessary," Tara replied.

They shared a laugh, the air lightening just a bit more.

Sookie hesitated, then asked softly, "And Sam?"

The laughter faded.

Tara sighed. "He didn't take your… disappearance well. At all."

Lafayette picked at a piece of cornbread. "You were his tether. Without you, he unraveled."

"He kept the bar open for a while," Tara said. "But every night felt like a funeral. One day, he just... snapped. Tore the place to pieces. Literally. Broke chairs, smashed bottles, even ripped out the bar top. It was like he wanted to erase everythin' that reminded him of you."

Sookie swallowed hard. "God, I—"

"Don't," Tara cut in gently. "Don't blame yourself. You didn't choose it."

"Where is he now?"

"Moved to Baton Rouge," Lafayette said. "Three years ago. No one's heard from him since."

Sookie looked away, blinking back tears. "I didn't mean to hurt him. Or any of y'all."

Tara reached across the table and took her hand. "We know. And we're still here. Still got love for ya, Sook."

Lafayette nodded. "Now finish that gumbo before I cry again and ruin my mascara, bitch."

They all chuckled. A moment passed in silence.

"What about everyone else?" Sookie asked. "Arlene? Terry?"

"Arlene and Terry got married," Tara said. "Real small ceremony. Arlene's workin' at that new diner down the road from where Merlotte's used to be."

"And Andy?"

"Sheriff now," Lafayette said.

"Wow," Sookie said. "Feels like the world kept turnin' without me."

"It did," Tara said gently. "But that don't mean we stopped waitin'."

Sookie looked down at her hands. "I need to tell y'all the whole truth."

Lafayette leaned forward. "We listenin'."

"I came back with an offering from my great grandfather." Sookie said. "He told me that he had been following my entire life and was truly impressed by the level of danger I'd been exposed to every day since I began dealing with Supes two years ago, erm… seven years ago. He gave me options: I could decide to maintain and embrace my fairy side and become stronger to defend myself, or give it up and become completely human, which eventually would help my scent become less… attractive to supernatural beings…".

Tara interrupted, "But Sookie, you don't have any powers other than your telepathy, do ya?

Sookie tilted her head as if in doubt before answering. "It is assumed that I do, but I haven't noted anythin' out of 'normal', if I decide to remain more fairy than human, of course they will develop greatly."

"And what do you want?" Tara asked, looking her in the eyes.

"Honestly, I dunno." Sookie wouldn't tell them about the other implications of choosing to be a fairy and not just human. That was just for her. "It's not like I have powers and if I choose to be human, I'd lose them; telepathy probably won't go away, so I don't really know what I'm losing, you know what I mean?"

Tara nodded. Lafayette had leaned back in his seat, legs crossed, staring at a fixed point as if trying to understand everything Sookie was telling them.

Suddenly, as if he had solved the riddle, he said, "Is there no way to... say, know ya future? What would yous life be like with one option or the other?"

"I… never liked knowing that, otherwise I'd have consulted a long time ago." Sookie said with a cautious look.

"But Sook, maybe now you should, maybe that's the answer to everything," Tara pointed out.

Sookie considered it. "Do you know anyone?" she asked Lafayette.

"Jesus and me, hooka," he said with a big smile, so convincing that Sookie considered it once more.

"Okay, let's try it, but only what I want to know, okay?" Lafayette crossed his heart as a sign of promise.

It was barely four in the afternoon when they packed up and drove the short distance to Lafayette and Jesus' home. The little house had a welcoming porch with wind chimes and potted succulents. Sookie felt a strange mix of nerves and comfort as she stepped out of her car.

Inside, the air smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon. Jesus was lounging on the couch in a tank top and soft joggers, watching a rerun of an old telenovela, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting on the belly of a sleepy orange cat.

When Lafayette came through the door first, Jesus looked up and smiled lazily. "Hey, baby. You bring the whole town with you?"

Lafayette grinned. "Somethin' like that. Jesus, this here is Sookie Stackhouse."

Jesus sat up quickly, all traces of sleep gone from his eyes. "THE Sookie Stackhouse?"

"One and only," Tara said with a wink.

Jesus stood and offered his hand. "It's good to finally meet you. I've heard more about you than some saints."

"Likewise," Sookie said softly, shaking his hand.

Jesus glanced at Lafayette. "So... is this a drop-by visit or are we doin' somethin'?"

Lafayette looked at Sookie. "Yous good with me tellin' him?"

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. I trust y'all."

Lafayette gave Jesus the rundown—the Fae realm, the time discrepancy, the choice Sookie was faced with. Jesus listened quietly, respectfully, and when Lafayette finished, he nodded slowly.

"Sounds like she needs clarity," Jesus said. "That, I can help with."

They moved to the kitchen table, where Jesus pulled a worn velvet pouch from a drawer and spread a deep indigo cloth across the table. From the pouch, he drew out a tarot deck that shimmered faintly at the edges.

"These are old," Jesus explained. "Passed down in my family. We won't ask what doesn't need to be asked. Just the truth you're ready to see."

Sookie nodded, fingers curling together on her lap. "Sounds good. I'm ready."

Jesus shuffled the cards, his eyes closed, lips moving in quiet Spanish. Then he laid them out, slow and deliberate. "We're gonna see your present".

The first card turned was The Lovers.

"This one here," Jesus began, voice calm and low, "isn't just about romance. It's about choices—big ones. Usually between what you want and what's easy. It's about makin' decisions that align with your soul, not just your heart."

The second card: The Moon.

"Now this," Jesus said, tapping it lightly, "this one's tricky. It speaks of illusions, confusion, feelin' like you're in a fog. You might be facing a decision, but you ain't got all the truth yet. Something's hidden, and you gotta trust your intuition to see through the shadows."

Then he turned the third card: The High Priestess.

Jesus paused. "Ooh, child. The High Priestess is power. Deep, quiet, sacred power. She doesn't shout. She knows. She represents your hidden strength. When this shows up, it means your answer's already inside you. You just gotta be still enough to hear it."

He looked up at Sookie, voice gentler now. "These three together? They tell a story. You're facin' a choice, maybe more than one, and you're bein' pulled deep into your own heart to find the answer. This isn't about what anyone else thinks. It's about listenin' to that voice you always try to quiet—the one that knows."

Jesus paused again, laying his hands on the table. "What you're feelin' right now? It's transformation. These cards say you're in a place where old truths are bein' torn down so new ones can be born. But you gotta stay grounded. Don't let the illusions of fear or the comfort of the past guide you. This is a call to go inward, trust your dreams, and choose the path that resonates with who you truly are."

Sookie sat in silence, eyes wide, throat tight.

"What about my future? How can I make a good decision? Can you show me what is best for me?" Sookie asked with a hint of anxiety.

Jesus sat quietly for a moment, letting the meaning of the last cards settle. Sookie was still staring at The High Priestess as if the image on the card might shift and speak to her directly.

"Now," Jesus said, folding his hands together, "we can take one step deeper. But I need to remind you, Sookie—tarot isn't a crystal ball. It won't show forever. This next spread will only show what's most likely to come in the next three months, and that's based on the choices you're holdin' right now. If you change your mind tomorrow, so might your path."

Sookie nodded slowly. "That's fair. I just want to know if I'm walkin' into something dangerous or bad."

"We can do that," he said gently. "After this, you'll also get to ask two yes-or-no questions. Not everything, but enough to shine a little light on the road ahead."

He cleared the table, gathered the cards, and gave them another shuffle. This time the energy felt different. Focused. Almost charged.

He laid out five cards in a cross pattern. The air in the room seemed to shift, even the orange cat in the corner lifted its head as if it, too, was listening.

The center card: The Two of Swords.

"A choice again," Jesus said. "You're standin' at a crossroads. Not moving yet, but you know you have to. There's a fear of choosing wrong, which is holdin' you back."

To the left: The Ace of Cups.

"New love. Or the return of love in a new form. A chance to feel deeply again. Could be romantic, but it also speaks to healing. Emotional renewal."

To the right: The Nine of Wands.

"Wounded warrior," he said. "You've been through a hell of a lot, Sookie. This card shows you still standin', but guarded. Defensive. You've got walls up. And that's okay—for now. But those walls might block what's good if you keep 'em too high."

Above: The Page of Pentacles.

"A new beginning in the material world. This could mean a job, a home, or some offer related to stability. It's small now, but it could grow—if you're willin' to commit to it."

Below: The Tower.

Everyone shifted slightly in their seats. Jesus didn't flinch. "This card gets a bad rap. It isn't death, and it isn't doom. It's a disruption. Sudden change. Something built on shaky ground is gonna fall—but only so you can build better. Think of it as divine renovation."

Sookie swallowed. "Is it gonna hurt?"

Jesus looked into her eyes. "Most truths do. But it's honest. This Tower means a false belief's gonna crash down. And when it does, you'll know exactly what you're standin' on."

Lafayette reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

"Now," Jesus said softly, "you can ask your yes-or-no questions. And remember, ask what you really want the answer to—not what you think you should."

Sookie took a deep breath, grounding herself in the silence. Then, with a glance to both of them, she said, "Alright. First question: If I choose to stay human... will I be able to live my life safely?"

Jesus nodded, shuffled, and drew a card.

Strength.

He smiled warmly. "Yes. Strength means resilience, inner courage. Your safety doesn't depend on your bloodline, Sook. It depends on your heart, the choices you make on a daily basis."

Sookie closed her eyes and let that sink in.

"Okay," she whispered. "Second question… Let's say I COULD" have a potential new love in my life," she said, not daring to say his name." Tara and Lafayette exchanged glances but stayed quiet. "Can I trust him? Will it lead to something real this time?"

Jesus gave the deck another quiet shuffle, then flipped a card.

The Ten of Cups.

She heard Lafayette make a surprised sound beside her. "Well damn."

Jesus grinned. "Yes. That's the happily ever after card, baby. Love, harmony, the whole emotional picture. But only if both of y'all come honest. No lies. No debts."

Tears filled Sookie's eyes. She nodded, brushing one away.

"Last one," she said. "If I embrace my Fae side, will it cost me the life I built here?"

Jesus pulled a final card.

Temperance.

His voice softened. "No. Not if you find balance. This is the card of alchemy. Of blending two worlds. You aren't gotta give one up to hold the other. You just need to walk the middle path—and honor both sides of yourself."

Sookie stared at the card, then at him.

"You sure you ain't part fairy too?"

Jesus laughed. "No, baby. Just part brujo."

As they started to clear the table, Sookie's hand hovered over the deck. Her brow furrowed.

"Wait," she said, voice quiet but steady. "Can I ask... one more?"

Jesus looked at her gently. "You feel it in your gut? That it matters?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I need to know."

He spread the cards in a fan. "Alright then. Ask from the heart."

Sookie looked down at the table, took a breath, and spoke so softly they almost didn't hear her.

"This hypothetical potential man… Does he love me? Truly? I mean... he hasn't said it. Ever. But I need to know if what I feel from him... is real."

Jesus didn't blink. He let her words settle in the air, then drew a single card with care.

The Knight of Cups.

He exhaled with a smile. "Yes, Sookie. That's a man carrying his heart toward you, even if he isn't sure how to say it. The Knight of Cups doesn't rush, but he's sincere. He's romantic, poetic... and maybe a little guarded. But yes—he loves you."

Sookie's eyes welled with tears, but she smiled.

"Then I'll wait," she whispered. "For him to say it. For the right moment."

Jesus leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes love speaks before it's spoken. But it'll come. You'll hear it when it matters most."

And with that, the cards lay quiet, their message delivered. A little more light shone on the path ahead.

A/N: I should explain a few things: Tara, Lafayette, and Jesus follow the storyline of the series until the end of season 3, and I just wanted to add that Tara also has a clothing store. I also kept one of Tara's love interests from the series that I really liked and removed JB.

Also, I'm stuck on a scene in chapter 8 that, depending on how I handle it, changes everything else I have (up to chapter 16), so it will probably take me a while to publish the next chapter.

Thank you for your reviews, keep them coming, they inspire me to write!

Chapter Text

Chapter 8.

The sun was low in the sky by the time Sookie got back to the old Stackhouse house. The shadows stretched long across the gravel drive, golden light catching in the porch railings and dappling through the oak trees.

She stepped out of her car slowly, like the weight of the reading was still sitting in her bones. The silence of the countryside wrapped around her. No more questions. No more voices. Just the crunch of her boots on the path.

Inside, the air smelled like cedar and lemon oil. Clean, quiet. Her fingers drifted across the hallway wall as she walked toward her Gran's room. The door creaked softly as it opened.

The bed was made—tightly, lovingly—the way Adele always kept it. A hand-stitched quilt lay across the top, and Sookie ran her palm over it, tracing the familiar patterns of faded blue and cream. Her breath caught in her throat.

She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer.

Inside were old photos—one of her and Jason in a baby pool, one of Gran laughing with a tea cup in her hand. And tucked underneath, worn but safe, was a small pressed flower she remembered picking when she was six. Gran had put it in a book. Somehow, it ended up here.

As she stared down at it, a shimmer of gold light flickered across the quilt. It was soft—brief—but it made the tiny hairs on her arms stand up.

She whispered, "Gran?"

No answer. But the warmth lingered in the air, like a hug without arms.

A sudden rush of thought hit her like a whisper in her mind—not her own.

—"She came back a few minutes ago"

Sookie blinked and turned her head toward the window. It came from her yard, but she couldn't see the owner. She hadn't meant to read it. She hadn't even tried. The telepathy was stronger.

With a sigh, she decided to let it go, she wanted to take a shower. Once she felt sufficiently relaxed, clean, and bathed in perfume, Sookie decided she would have a cup of sweet tea while reading one of her romance novels outside on the porch.

It was already 8 p.m.—she wanted comfort, but she also knew better than to expect a quiet night.

Sookie stepped out onto the porch in an outfit that didn't belong to the old version of herself—the one who hid behind sundresses and polite smiles. This new look was bolder, sleeker, and a little bit dangerous. And definitely, Claudine's.

She wore a fitted, denim skirt that hugged her hips and stopped just mid-thigh, shorter than she would've dared before Faery. Her legs— a bit tanned and toned from years of running from trouble—disappeared into a pair of rich caramel leather boots that reached just above her knees. The heels clicked with each step, adding a rhythm to her stride that made her feel like she was walking with purpose.

On top, she wore a soft cream blouse tucked into the skirt, the fabric light but elegant, with a neckline just low enough to remind folks she was grown. She had a leather jacket waiting on the sofa, just in case. The whole ensemble gave her a look that was confident, magnetic, and just a little rebellious.

Her hair was loose and slightly tousled, like she hadn't tried too hard but somehow looked like she stepped out of a dream. She put on some lipstick, very soft, very natural, and a little mascara on her eyelashes. She applied the rest of her face creams that Claudine had insisted on so much and pretended that this was her casual outfit for a Thursday night doing nothing around the house.

She wasn't trying to impress anyone—at least that's what she told herself—but even she had to admit, she looked like someone different now. Someone who wasn't gonna take any more nonsense from anyone, vampire or not.

By 9 p.m., the night had cooled. The warmth of the garden faded into a gentle chill, and the air carried the scent of dew and pine. Sookie stood from the porch swing, hugging her arms as the breeze brushed her skin.

"I'm headin' inside, he's not comin'" she murmured to herself. The garden was quiet now. Still.

She slipped back into the house but left her boots on. Just in case, she told herself, though she didn't quite know what just in case meant.

She poured another glass of sweet tea and settled on the couch, flipping open her book. But the words didn't hold her. Her mind wandered, uneasy.

Then, at 9:30 sharp, something hit her. A flood of thoughts. Not her own.

She gasped softly, sitting upright. The voices weren't like a single mind whispering to her like usual—this was layers of thoughts. Conversations on top of one another. Rich images, vivid emotions. Overcrowded.

She heard a woman's voice—light and quick. Then a man's, smooth, low. She knew that voice.

—"You told me to come and I came as fast as I could, Vampire."

—"And I thank you for that, you've been a great friend."

Sookie was already on her feet when the knock came at the door. She pulled it open—and there stood Eric. And beside him, a woman.

She was petite, with short dark brown hair that curled slightly around her jaw, and bright green eyes that sparkled with cleverness. She had a graceful confidence about her, dressed in black jeans and a soft emerald blouse. Her boots looked scuffed but expensive. Her lipstick matched her attitude: bold but not loud.

Sookie didn't recognize the feeling that ran through her at that moment. It was sharp, hot, and fast—like a flick of fire in her chest. Not anger, not exactly. Maybe jealousy. But she wouldn't admit that. Not even to herself.

Eric, of course, was smiling a little too much for her liking. That casual, amused smile that usually meant trouble.

"What the hell is goin' on?" Sookie asked before she could stop herself.

The stranger stepped forward with a friendly nod and a distinct New Orleans accent that rolled like honey. "Hi there. You must be Sookie. I'm Amelia Broadway. Sorry for the late visit, sugar."

Sookie blinked. "Amelia...?" She noticed the woman was carrying a cute bag with… a cat?!

"She's a witch," Eric said calmly. "An old acquaintance of mine. We've worked together before."

Amelia offered a quick shrug. "He called. I came. Didn't think it'd be a problem. But I'm guessin' from your face that it is a problem?"

Sookie realized she was still standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob like a gatekeeper. She stepped back slowly.

"No... it's not," she said. "Excuse my manners. Come in."

Eric raised a brow at the invitation, but said nothing as he stepped inside, Amelia following.

As they walked past her, Sookie kept her eyes on the back of the woman's head. She didn't mean to scan her thoughts—but they came anyway. Amelia's mind was open, fast-moving. Full of visuals. Symbols. Spells. Laughter.

—"Nice place. Cozy. She's got more power than she thinks. Hmm. He wasn't lyin' 'bout her."

Sookie snapped her focus away. That felt invasive, even if unintentional.

Eric looked around as if he'd never seen the house before, even though he'd probably memorized every inch of it by now. "We won't stay long," he said. "I just needed Amelia's help with something. A magical matter. I thought it might be better... here."

"In my house?" Sookie asked.

"You're at the center of it, Sookie," Eric said simply. "You always are."

That didn't make her feel better.

Amelia walked to the edge of the living room and turned in a slow circle, like she was taking the temperature of the place.

Sookie crossed her arms. "What kinda magical matter?"

Eric looked at Amelia.

Amelia gave a sly smile. "One that might be better explained with some tea and less suspicion, maybe?" She let her cat out of the bag, and it positioned itself as a faithful companion right next to her, without making a fuss. What training!

Sookie's smile was tight. "Well, y'all make yourselves comfortable. I'll grab some drinks."

She turned sharply on her heel and made for the kitchen. She could feel him before she heard him—Eric, following.

Once inside the kitchen, she spun around and hissed, "What the hell is this, Eric?"

He arched a brow. "What is what?"

"You show up at my house—my house—with… her? A witch I've never met, at nine-thirty at night, smilin' like you just walked in on a birthday party?"

Eric folded his arms, calm as ever. "Does this bother you?"

"Well, kinda." she snapped. "You could've called. I don't know, warned me that you were bringin' some mysterious magical woman who looks like a damn perfume ad into my living room!"

He studied her. "You're jealous." He smiled.

"I am not." She said, hiding from Eric's accusing eyes.

"You are."

"I am not!"

She turned away, opening a cabinet with more force than necessary. "You know what? I don't even care who she is. I just—this is my home. You don't get to walk in here like this is normal."

"She came because I asked her to," Eric said. "For your sake, not mine."

That silenced her. Just for a beat.

"What do you mean?" she asked more quietly.

"The magical wards around your house may be weakening. We can't take any chances. Amelia's been helping maintain them for the last four years. I plan to return the house to your name so that no vampire can enter, but it may take some time. In the meantime, we cannot take any risks."

Sookie's shoulders dropped slightly, but her eyes narrowed. "So she's been to my house? While I was gone?" Her voice turned sharp. "Tell me, Eric. Which room did you fuck her in?"

Eric's expression darkened. He took a step forward, ice and fury in his eyes. "Excuse me? Did I do what?"

"Ain't that right?" she said, rolling her eyes. "You've clearly gotten real close to her these last few years. It's fine. We weren't together before. God knows we're not now. But after what we talked about yesterday? I thought I deserved more respect than you parading one of your paramours into my house."

Her throat tightened. She looked up, blinking hard, refusing to cry. Jealousy pulsed under her skin like a second heartbeat.

Eric's voice turned flat and cold. "Let's get something straight. Who I fuck, feed from, or bring anywhere before yesterday is not your business. We weren't together before you left. We're not together now. We only have an agreement. Or did I miss somethin', Miss Stackhouse?"

Silence hit like a slap.

Her heart pounded. Her breath shook. But she held his gaze.

Eric took a slow step closer. His voice softened. "I met Amelia in New Orleans when I was looking for you. Every trail ran cold. I needed answers. She had power. She helped me."

He paused. "And if it helps ease that storm in your head—Amelia is just a friend. We've never been more. Not a kiss. Not a feed. Not even a glance. She's not mine." He was telling the truth.

"So it's just a friendship?" Sookie asked, voice tight. "Like ours?"

"Yes, Sookie..." He stepped closer, slower this time, no longer trying to intimidate. His eyes flashed something soft—something raw. He gently took her arms in his hands, his thumbs brushing her skin. "But not like ours."

She didn't move.

"She's here to keep the wards strong," he continued. "To keep this house safe, to keep you safe. That was one of my promises. I meant to keep it."

Sookie gripped the counter behind her, trying to steady herself. "It just... it felt like you were parading her in front of me."

"I wasn't," he said simply. "And even if she were an old flame—which she's not—I would never do that to you."

She turned her face away, ashamed of the tightness in her chest. "I still hate you."

Eric's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "No, you don't."

She heard him shift. Felt his eyes on her.

"Now," he said softly, "do we go back in there and finish this? Or do you want to yell at me a little more first?"

She gave a bitter little laugh, wiped under her eyes, and said quietly, "No. I'm done."

"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm not. But we'll finish this later. After Amelia's work."

They stepped out of the kitchen, and the tension still clung to the air between them like static. When they returned to the living room, Amelia was curled into the corner of the couch with a slim leather-bound book in her lap, pretending to read.

Of course, she'd heard every word.

Sookie didn't acknowledge it. She kept her chin high and walked to the coffee table, where she placed a tray with glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies.

"Here you go," she said. "Hope you like sugar."

Amelia looked up with a big smile that was warm, even apologetic. Her thoughts were suddenly clear—too clear. It was intentional.

—"Girl, I ain't here to take your boyfriend from you. He's told me a lot 'bout ya. I was really lookin' forward to meetin' you. Can we start over?"

Sookie blinked at her. Eric wasn't her boyfriend, but she understood that from the outside, that's probably how it looked. She nodded, just once. Her voice was quiet but steady.

"Yeah. We can."

Over the next hour, Amelia worked her way around the house, walking slowly along the interior and exterior walls with an old silver pendant in her hand. She chanted softly, mostly in Latin, and extended the perimeter of the magical wards beyond the usual boundary. Sookie watched her from the porch, sipping sweet tea, surprised at how calm she felt with the witch moving through her home.

Amelia explained that the wards would now repel any being with malicious intent—even those who may have been invited in the past. Sookie shivered slightly at the thought, but said nothing.

When the work was done, Amelia rejoined them in the living room. They chatted like old friends—about New Orleans, spells gone wrong, the absurdity of vampire politics – at this topic, Eric was just thrilled. Sookie found herself laughing more than she expected, and even noticed a strange, warming feeling in her chest. She liked Amelia. Actually liked her. And part of her hoped this wouldn't be the last time they talked.

The hour was getting late.

"I should head back," Amelia said eventually, standing and brushing cookie crumbs off her blouse. "Gotta be back in New Orleans by morning."

Sookie blinked. "What? You're drivin' all the way back tonight?"

Amelia nodded, but Sookie's Southern manners kicked in fast. "No ma'am," she said firmly. "You're stayin' here. I've got a guest room, and it's cleaner and quieter than any motel off 90."

Amelia hesitated. She clearly didn't need the help—everything about her said money and independence—but she gave Sookie a slow, considering look.

"You sure it's not a problem?" she asked. "We don't want to disturb your home any more. Me and my cat."

"Not at all," Sookie said, smiling. "It'd be my pleasure. My gran raised me better than to let a woman drive alone through the backwoods at midnight."

Amelia grinned. "Well, sugar, in that case… thank you." She pulled out her phone, stepped aside, and made a quick call—likely to someone back home, letting them know she'd be returning later in the morning.

Eric observed all of this with quiet amusement, watching Sookie open up with ease. He leaned against the archway between rooms, arms crossed, head tilted slightly. Why couldn't she be that easy with him?

Amelia thanked Sookie again, grabbed another cookie, and let her guide her to the guest room on the first floor. A moment later, the door shut softly.

Eric was still standing there.

Sookie sighed. "You wanna yell at me now?"

He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her. "No. I want to understand."

She tensed slightly.

"That jealousy earlier," he said. "You've never been like that."

She looked away, cheeks flushed. "I'm not jealous. I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout."

"Yes, you do," he said quietly. "And I want to hear it. From you."

Eric was still watching her. That unreadable expression he wore like armor hadn't cracked, but something behind his eyes softened just a little.

Sookie swallowed and crossed her arms, hugging herself like she was holding something in.

"I'm not jealous," she muttered again, quieter this time. "I just… didn't expect company tonight."

Eric let the silence stretch for a breath. Then his eyes slid deliberately down her body and back up again, slow as honey.

"Well," he said, voice low and smooth, "If I had known you were wearing that skirt and boots like that, I would have shown up alone and much earlier."

Sookie's head snapped up, cheeks blooming red. "Eric."

He gave her a lazy smile—mischievous, but not cruel. "I didn't know Southern hospitality came with leather heels and tan beautiful legs."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite hide the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I was dressed for myself, thank you very much."

"I'm sure you were." He stepped closer, then his tone shifted, still warm but steadier. "But I'm not here to play, Sookie. I'm being serious about this."

The smile slipped from her face. She looked down, then walked back into the living room without saying a word. Eric followed, slow and quiet, until they were both standing just beyond the coffee table, the room dim except for the soft lamp glow and the faint hum of the old fridge in the kitchen.

She turned, her arms still crossed. "I guess I really exaggerated… I'm sorry, Eric. It's not my place to question you like that. You are free to do whatever you want."

His eyes flickered. "No, I'm not, not anymore, and honestly, I don't want to."

She gave a dry laugh. "So, how does it feel to have been caught by a fairy?"

"I'm not the only one in captivity here. I don't think I mentioned it, but the agreement is mutual" he said, voice cool again. "But you already knew that, right?"

Sookie flinched. They stood in the quiet between them, the air charged and fragile.

"And who am I supposed to have sex with, Eric? If that's what you're worried about." she said at last.

Eric took a breath through his nose. "I'm just saying– I'm in, I expect the same from you."

She looked up at him then, her expression more vulnerable than she meant it to be. "Fair enough. And in that spirit, I must confess something…"

His gaze locked with hers.

"I didn't like seein' you with her. Because… I care for you, Eric. A lot." She bit her lip.

Eric didn't move. Finally, a breath escaped him like the edge of a laugh, surprised and quiet. "That is dangerously close to honesty, Miss Stackhouse."

She shrugged. "Don't get used to it."

Eric stepped forward again, not quite closing the space, but near enough that the temperature shifted. "You know I'm not good at this. Not with words."

She nodded. "I know."

He tilted his head. "But actions...?"

"I've seen 'em," she said, voice almost a whisper.

Another beat of quiet.

Then Eric reached out, gently brushing his fingers across her hand—just a whisper of touch. "I'm still here," he said. "That's not nothing."

It wasn't. It was everything.

Sookie looked at their hands, then back up at him. "You gonna stay a little longer?"

Eric's lips twitched. "Only if you ask nice."

She smiled—small, real. "Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Sit your ass down."

He did.

Chapter Text

A/N: Reposting this chapter because I wasn't happy with how it turned out.

Something to consider: Sookie is experiencing a kind of post-traumatic stress. It's not easy to discover that you've lost five years of your life and that everything around you is different. She's trying to get back to normal, but that normal no longer exists. This story is slow burn, but mainly because Sookie is going through trauma that she must cope with alone before venturing into any other kind of relationship with Eric.

Chapter 9.

The fire snapped in the hearth, flames licking at the blackened stone, casting a blood-orange glow across the living room. Sookie's body stretched the full length of the couch, her head nestled against a cushion, her bare legs draped across Eric's lap like an offering. Her words about reconnecting with Tara and Lafayette barely registered in his mind—all he could focus on was the weight of her against him, the heat radiating through her skin.

Outside, darkness swallowed the world whole, but inside, something primal and dangerous threatened to consume them both.

Eric's fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on her calves, each touch sending electricity through his fingertips. Her skin burned against his cool touch—a thousand-year-old vampire reduced to trembling restraint by the brush of human flesh. His gaze locked on the flames, then surrendered to the curve of her thigh, where her skin didn't just reflect light—it emanated it. Her fairy blood made her luminous, a beacon calling to him from across an ocean of time.

Her scent invaded him—wild honey and sunlight and something untamable—filling his lungs, clouding his thoughts, making his fangs ache behind his lips. It wrapped around his throat like a noose, tightening with each breath.

Eric exhaled sharply, shifting his weight, but the movement only heightened his awareness of his own hardness, straining painfully against his jeans. He released her legs with reluctance, straightening his spine with the rigid control of centuries, forcing his face into a mask of indifference. Sookie's eyes flickered open at the sudden absence, confusion crossing her features.

She pulled herself upright, arms wrapping protectively around her body, retreating. "Sorry," she murmured, voice tight. "Guess I got too comfortable."

Eric's eyes met hers, pupils dilated to black pools rimmed with blue fire. He recognized her misinterpretation, the hurt beneath her words.

If only you knew, he thought savagely. Your touch is destroying me. But he swallowed the confession, muscles clenched against desire. "You're fine," he said, each word costing him.

Sookie studied him intently, her eyes tracing the contours of his face. There was something familiar and captivating in his eyes—a faint, alluring glow that she recognized all too well. He wasn't distant; in fact, his gaze seemed to have deepened, growing more intense and warmer. Her breath hitched, and for an instant, the atmosphere between them grew heavy, almost tangible.

Her eyes remained locked with his, unwavering. He didn't avert his gaze either. They sat frozen, a charged silence stretching between them like a taut string ready to snap.

Her heart pounded once, loudly, resonating in her ears. He leaned forward slightly, as if drawn by an invisible force, but halted himself just in time. The tension held firm, unbroken.

In that moment, Eric caught a whiff of a new scent that hadn't registered before, something even sweeter and more enticing, pulling him in like an invisible net. It was the scent of her arousal, potent and undeniable. What on earth was he going to do now? His mind raced with the thought, "Fuck me", he mused. Quite literally.

Sookie let out a shaky breath, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're staring."

His smile shifted, revealing an underlying softness wrapped in intensity that simmered just beneath the surface. "So are you."

The pause between them lingered; it wasn't simply the fire's heat enveloping them now—it was a blazing inferno crackling between them with unspoken electricity.

Then suddenly, the tension erupted. Sookie lunged forward, and he leaned in to meet her with equal fervor, as if this moment had been building all night long. Their lips collided fiercely, not gentle or premeditated—just raw necessity and an explosion of desire untamed.

Her fingers gripped his shirt desperately, pulling him closer still. Eric deepened their kiss; one hand charting a heated path up her spine while the other became tangled in her hair with abandon. She slipped onto his lap eagerly, knees anchoring her on either side of him, as they melded into each other's hunger—a craving so intense it felt like they'd been yearning forever.

In those suspended heartbeats—they shattered every rule. But then Eric abruptly pulled back, gasping for air—the shock wide-open in his eyes—and held onto her shoulders gently yet firmly.

"No," he breathed raggedly, voice almost breaking under strain. "No. This isn't what we agreed on."

Blinking back at him in confusion mingled with something deeper than she could name—cheeks flushed and lips swollen from their furious embrace—Sookie stammered softly, "What––?"

He rose abruptly, creating a chasm between them with a suddenness that fractured the moment. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his resolve wavering as he struggled to maintain control, torn between staying and pulling away.

"What do you want from me?" It wasn't an accusation but a plea barely above a whisper. Torn between exasperation and an unspoken yearning. "You told me to follow your rules, to hold back, and now you're taunting me like this?" His knuckles turned white as he kept his fists clenched at his sides. "Do you think I'm made of stone? But then again, fuck Sookie… what do you want from me?"

Sookie stood there, smoothing her skirt with hands quaking like leaves in a windstorm. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with uncertainty and a glint of something more profound. "Yeah," she managed to whisper back, her words almost swallowed by the tension hanging heavy between them. "We had rules. And you can't break them." The volume of her voice dwindled, overlayed by the crackling static of their strained connection. "But I can't shake this consuming need to have you close to me."

Eric's gaze devoured her hungrily, a sigh escaping him, weighted with an intense longing that threatened to consume them both. "You have no idea how you test every shred of my control, woman," he growled.

He stood rigid, his eyes shut tightly, jaw clenched as if he were fighting a losing battle. Her new aroused scent swirled around him, a heady mix of warm vanilla and electric heat that threatened to unravel him completely. One deep breath could break all the walls he had painstakingly built.

With measured steps that echoed through the silent room, Sookie moved towards him. He remained motionless, fighting the tumultuous storm brewing within. Damn it, he thought, his mind a whirlwind of expletives. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Her fingertips brushed against his bare forearm, a delicate touch that sent shivers racing up his spine as they slowly trailed upward to the crook of his elbow. Her touch was light, reverent, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake. Her fingers continued their ascent, caressing his neck, the hollow of his throat. Eric's breath hitched, a ragged sound of need.

Finally, her thumb grazed the edge of his lower lip, igniting a blaze within him.

"I must admit, I had forgotten how intoxicating your lips taste, Eric..." she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper that wrapped around him like a spell. "And right now, just for this moment, I feel like throwing our agreement to the wind."

Eric's eyes opened slowly, glowing with a fierce light, pupils dilated with an overwhelming desire. He stared at her, every fiber of his being ablaze.

Then he exhaled sharply, the sound edged with pain, and stepped back just enough to create a chasm between them.

"Sookie," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. "Tell me."

She tilted her head, a silent question in her eyes.

"Tell me what you want from me. Right now. Or I walk out that door."

Sookie stood in the unsteady light of the fire, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if holding her emotions in place. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her lips were parted, caught between wanting to speak and swallowing her words. Eric stood across from her, stiff and tense, his eyes locked on her, waiting for something, anything. She finally took a shaky breath.

"Right now..." she started hesitantly, her voice quivering with uncertainty, "I just—I've had a few really complicated days. So much has been thrown at me, I feel like I'm drowning in my own emotions, unsure of what to feel or how to deal with it all."

Eric stayed quiet, listening, his fingers flexing at his sides.

She looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. "And all I want tonight… is to stop thinkin'. Just for a little while. To forget the fear, the confusion, the choices I have to make." Her voice cracked. "I just want to feel something good, something simple."

Eric's jaw tensed. He stepped toward her, then halted, then stepped again, his hand lifting halfway before dropping. "Simple," he repeated quietly, his voice a mixture of longing and bitterness.

Sookie nodded. "With you. Just for a while."

Eric looked at her, his eyes darkening then softening in rapid succession. He ran his tongue over his fangs, swallowed hard. "Sookie, there's nothing simple about us," he said, the gentleness in his tone battling with the rigid set of his shoulders. "And I'm not some distraction. I'm not a sex toy." His hand reached for her face, trembled in the air between them, then curled into a fist.

She blinked.

"I'm not here to be your escape whenever you can't deal with your emotions," Eric said, his voice steady yet edged with raw honesty. "Maybe that was okay in the past, but things have changed for me now. Especially with you."

Sookie recoiled as if struck by an invisible hand. Her mouth opened slightly before pressing into a tight line, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she averted her gaze.

"That's not what I meant," she whispered, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "God, Eric…"

She swiped at her cheeks furiously to remove the tears that fell more unbidden by the moment. "You really think I'd treat you like some kind of plaything? That I'd sell you short like that?"

Eric remained silent.

Sookie pivoted sharply to face him again, her voice rising above the storm brewing inside her. "If that's really how you see me, maybe it's better if you just leave! Maybe there's no point in staying!"

Eric stepped forward cautiously. "Sookie—"

"No!" she interrupted, sobs streaming freely down her face now. "I wanted just one thing—a fleeting reprieve from feeling terrified and isolated—and you've spun it into something ugly."

Her voice faded to something small and quivering.

"Just go. Please… Just let me be alone tonight."

Eric lingered for a lingering moment, his chest moving rhythmically though air meant nothing to him. He observed Sookie intently—taking in every detail—before he inclined his head ever so slightly.

He turned on his heel and walked towards the door with a silence only someone of his nature could command. The sound of the door opening and closing was gentle behind him as he left Sookie standing there bathed in flickering firelight—solitary once more.

But this time around, it was loneliness carved out by her own actions—and it hurt more than anything else possibly could.

The fire had dwindled, casting sprawling shadows across the living room like reaching arms. The night encased Sookie in its thick embrace, now feeling denser with Eric's absence. The silence following his departure hung heavy, pressing on her chest as if she were floating in a void.

Her footsteps whispered against the hardwood floor as she navigated the hallway, bypassing the guest room where Amelia may or may not have slipped into slumber. There was an unspoken desire within her to be seen—to share this suffocating solitude with someone else.

Sookie stepped into her Gran's old room and closed the door with a tender grace. A fragrant concoction of lavender sachets mingled with hints of aged cedar greeted her senses—a familiar, comforting specter of warmth. Moonlight draped through lace curtains, delicately tracing silver patterns along the wooden planks below.

Drawn by instinctive longing for comfort, she sank onto the bed and engulfed herself in that cherished quilt—its fabric a surrogate for affectionate arms no longer present. Her heart thudded painfully beneath waves of sadness until tears flowed freely once again.

"I don't know what to do," she murmured into its folds, voice brittle yet pleading. "Please... I need some guidance—I just can't keep going."

She stifled her sobs against trembling lips; it achieved nothing beyond haunting echoes resonating softly throughout empty spaces.

A soft knock on the door jolted her from her despair, a sudden link to reality beyond these walls. The door creaked open slightly, then a bit more. "Sookie?" Amelia's gentle, concerned voice called out. "Did the Vampire do something to you?"

Sookie turned her head slowly, blinking through tears. Amelia stood barefoot in the doorway, wearing the oversized shirt Sookie had lent her, her hair slightly messy from sleep. Behind her, the black cat peeked in, meowing softly.

"No," Sookie rasped. "He didn't... He didn't do anything. I'm just... feeling foolish."

Amelia entered quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. When Sookie didn't pull away, she wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. Sookie melted into the embrace like it was a lifeline.

"Shhh, it's okay," Amelia murmured, gently rocking her. "You're not foolish. Don't say that."

Sookie clung to her. "I barely know you, and I'm acting like we're best friends. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize," Amelia interrupted firmly yet kindly. "I've had strangers support me when I couldn't stand. Sometimes you don't need time to know someone's meant to be in your life."

The cat jumped onto the bed, curled up next to Sookie, and started purring.

Sookie chuckled weakly through her tears. "Even your cat's kinder than me."

Amelia smiled, stroking her hair. "That's Bob. He's a good judge of character."

They stayed like that for a while, the room filled only with quiet crying and gentle breathing. When Sookie had calmed, Amelia leaned back a little.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Sookie nodded slowly. "Yeah. I... I think I need to."

Sookie sat up, still clutching the blanket around her. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed.

"It's a lot," she said softly.

"I've got time," Amelia replied gently.

And so Sookie began.

She told Amelia about Fairy—the realm itself, her cousin Claudine, her great-grandfather. How one hour there had stretched into five years here, how she'd returned to a world that had simply carried on without her.

"I didn't even have a chance to grieve," she murmured. "One moment I'm bathed in magic and light, the next I'm back on Earth—and five years have gone by. My brother has a daughter, my friends have moved on, everyone's different… but I'm still me."

She paused, eyes fixed on the quilt. "And then there's Eric."

Amelia nodded, her expression encouraging.

Sookie's voice dropped lower. "When I left, we weren't together—but there was something between us. I was dating someone else at the time, but I always felt it. When I came home, Eric was here. He'd kept the house up, renovated it, let nothing fall apart. He waited."

Her voice quivered. "He offered to be mine, to protect me. I wasn't sure, so I asked for rules—a kind of hidden courtship, no rushing, to see if we could build something real beyond the usual vampire 'you belong to me' crap," she added, mindful of Amelia's cat. "I thought I could stick to that. But tonight… the way he looked at me, the way I feel around him—it cut through everything."

Ashamed, she looked up. "I tried not to let all this pain and confusion in. I reached out—tried to make him want me. But he pulled away. He said he wouldn't be a distraction, that I was treating him like a damn whore."

Amelia's brows shot up. "Ouch. That hurts."

"It did," Sookie whispered. "All I wanted was to stop feeling so broken. But he's right—it wouldn't have been fair. And now I feel worse for even trying."

Amelia reached across and took her hand. "You've been through something no one else here can understand. You were ripped out of your life and dropped back in as if nothing changed. But everything did—including you." Sookie nodded slowly.

Amelia continued, "Needing comfort isn't a sin. But if you're going to let yourself get close to someone like Eric Northman—and trust me, I've heard stories—you've got to know exactly where you stand. Otherwise he'll consume you."

Sookie squeezed Amelia's hand. "I know. That's why I insisted on an agreement. To slow things down a bit."

Amelia tilted her head, half-smiling. "And how's that working out?"

Sookie gave a small, rueful laugh. "Not great."

"So," Amelia prompted. "Tell me—do you love him?"

Sookie hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe. Not how I thought love was supposed to feel. But he's in everything I do. And when he's gone, it hurts."

Amelia nodded. "Sounds like love to me—at least the beginning of it."

Looking away, Sookie sighed. "Three days ago—Bill and I… that was my timeline. But now I'm living five years instead of three days, and Bill feels so distant. All I can think about is Eric—how different he is, or maybe he always was, and I'm only now seeing it."

Amelia was quiet a moment, stroking her cat. "Love doesn't care about timelines, sugar. It doesn't wait until you're ready. It just… shows up and waits to see what you'll do."

Sookie wiped her eyes. "I want to believe in this. I want to believe it could be real. I'm just scared—I've been hurt before, and I can't survive another broken heart."

"Then go slow," Amelia said. "Follow your rules if they help you feel safe. But don't pretend you don't care, and don't punish him for not having a manual on how to love you."

Sookie laughed softly. "You're good at this."

Amelia shrugged. "Magic's one thing. Girl drama? I've got a PhD."

Bob purred louder, curling against Sookie's hip.

"Thank you," Sookie whispered.

"You're welcome," Amelia replied, rising. "You're not alone, Sookie. Remember that." She bent and kissed Sookie's forehead, then padded barefoot back toward the guest room.

Sookie stayed tucked under her quilt, staring at the moonlit ceiling. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring—but she wasn't as afraid anymore. Not with friends at her side, and maybe love waiting just outside her door. If she could find the courage.

She murmured into the quiet, "I'm sorry, Eric. I do care. I want you. I just need to learn to trust." Then she drifted to sleep.

Outside, Eric lingered at the fringe of the yard beneath the looming shadow of a towering pine. Through the windows, the firelight inside pulsed like a heartbeat—sacred and untouchable. He curled his fists until his knuckles blazed white, every sinew trembling with a pain he couldn't deny.

He'd known longing before: a dull ache gnawing at the ribs. But this—this bone-shattering helplessness—felt like shards of ice drilling into his soul.

He had hurt her. Even without meaning to.

Slowly, inexorably, he turned back toward the house. A faint glow winked through the side window of Adele Stackhouse's old room. Behind the thin curtain, Sookie's silhouette flickered—a fragile outline of grief. As quietly as moonlight, Eric crossed the yard.

At first, he meant only to gaze. Then her voice slipped out—softer than a sigh, fractured by tears. "What do I do? Please… I can't… can't anymore."

Her confession sliced through him like silver razors. Amelia's voice followed, warm and anxious. "Girl, what happened? Did the Vampire hurt you?"

Eric pressed his palm against the cold clapboard, head dropping as shame coiled around him. He despised himself for eavesdropping. Yet his feet stayed rooted.

He heard Sookie pour out every secret: her Faery blood, the weight of her heritage, the fear of endless departures—and him, the man who'd wounded her deepest. He drank in her sorrow, each word a fresh cut in his chest.

She spoke of their covenant: how it had cradled her in safety, her desperate wish for courtship, the slow rebuilding of trust. And still, despite the ruin, she wanted him.

An ancient emotion roared awake inside him—desire, guilt, and agony all at once. He imagined smashing through the glass, gathering her close, swearing a thousand promises in every tongue he'd ever known. I would burn in the sun for you. I'd offer my mind, my heart, my loyalty, my very soul, if one atom of it remained.

Instead, he bowed his forehead to the house's side, teeth clenched against a sob. How can I make this right?

Then one clause of their pact flared to life in his mind: acts of kindness. A cold determination settled over him.

Chapter Text

A/N: I do not own these characters; they belong exclusively to Charlaine Harris and Allan Ball.

Sunlight filtered through Gran's lace curtains, painting the bedroom in honey-gold. Sookie blinked awake, her face pressed against the quilt that still carried echoes of her grandmother's lavender sachets. Her swollen eyes stung, and her limbs felt heavy with yesterday's grief. Yet something drifted through the house—cinnamon and melting butter, mingled with a fragrance she couldn't quite name but felt like possibility.

Cocooned in the blanket, she eased herself upright and stretched her stiff muscles. The worn floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet as she followed the promising aroma toward the kitchen.

Amelia stood by the stove, barefoot and hair piled into a messy bun, flipping pancakes like she'd been doing it her whole life. Bob the cat lay curled at her feet, purring contentedly.

Sookie blinked. "Morning."

"Well, hey there, sunshine. You sleep okay?" Amelia turned, beaming.

Sookie smiled, surprised at how genuine her concern felt. "Surprisingly well. And that smells like it fixes just about anything."

"Secret Broadway recipe. Heartbreak, hangovers, even hauntings—maybe not all at once, but close enough."

Sookie slid onto a chair at the tiny kitchen table, watching Amelia move with familiar ease. "You're something else. These pancakes are divine."

Amelia chuckled. "Magic and maple syrup, sugar. Works every time."

They ate in a comfortable hush. When they were done, Amelia cleared her plate and said, "I'm heading back to New Orleans today—got a few things to sort. But thank you for last night—for trusting me, for your hospitality, and for your honesty."

Sookie's smile flickered. "I'm glad I met you, even if it was just for a moment."

Amelia dried her hands on a towel, her thoughts drifting up where Sookie could almost hear them:

I wish I could stay.  I'd feel more comfortable with the magic wards if I could always monitor them from here.  She's powerful—no wonder Eric wants her watched nonstop. She needs friends…

Sookie's heart lifted. Without hesitation, she looked up. "Amelia?"

Amelia turned.

"Would you… want to stay longer?"

Amelia blinked. "Stay?"

Sookie nodded. "This house has been lonely. When my Gran lived, it used to echo with laughter. Before I went to Fairy, I was already thinking about a roommate. You don't owe me anything, and Eric trusts you... I'd be thrilled to have you here."

Bob rubbed against Sookie's calf, purring louder—as if he approved.

Sookie knelt to stroke him. "I think Bob agrees."

Amelia set her mug down slowly, eyes warm. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," Sookie said. "I could use a little magic around here. And… a friend."

Amelia crossed the kitchen in two strides and pulled Sookie into a tight hug. "Then it's a deal. I could use a break from my family, too."

Sookie returned the hug, feeling a hope she hadn't in years. Outside, the garden was bursting into bloom—despite it being fall. Upstairs, in a forgotten drawer, the faint shimmer of fae magic stirred like a heartbeat.

Sookie and Amelia quickly agreed that Amelia would head back to New Orleans that day to pack some of her belongings and return as soon as possible. Sookie handed her a spare key, which Amelia accepted with a mix of joy and reverence.

"I insist on paying rent," Amelia said as she added the key to her chain. "I know you said it's not necessary, but I believe in balance. Energy should flow where it's welcomed, but it shouldn't be free."

Sookie hesitated but then agreed. "Alright. Just a small, symbolic amount. And we'll split the cost of food and household stuff."

"That sounds good to me, roomie," Amelia replied, grinning widely.

Her happiness was so intense that it practically sang into Sookie's mind, despite her efforts to keep her mental shields up. Amelia was exuding waves of excitement like a radio tower, and Sookie decided not to pry into her reasons. She'd find out when Amelia was ready to share.

Bob paced around the room before settling in the sunny spot by the window.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave him here?" Sookie asked. "All that driving might stress him out."

Amelia chuckled. "Bob? He'd have a meltdown if I left him. He's practically human, follows me everywhere—even to the bathroom. You haven't seen codependence until you've met this furball."

Sookie raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, he fits right in. Honestly, with all this?"—she gestured around the room—"Witch roommates, fairy blood, vampire pretenders—a clingy cat isn't that weird anymore. Weird has just become my new normal."

They hugged before Amelia left, and Sookie felt a comforting warmth in her chest. A new friendship, a new chapter. Maybe even a real home again.

As she bid Amelia farewell at the door and turned back, there was another knock.

"Amelia, did you forget you have keys now?" Sookie called out, her voice tinged with a tired smile as she turned her gaze toward the entrance. Expecting to see her new roommate, she pulled open the door, only to be met by the sight of a sharply dressed man. He stood on her porch, donning a charcoal-gray suit that fit him perfectly. In his hands, he held a pristine white box, expertly wrapped with a silky red bow. The morning sun caught the edge of a silver pin on his lapel, an intricate Norse rune that Sookie didn't recognize.

"Miss Stackhouse?" the man inquired, his voice smooth and formal.

Sookie hesitated for a moment, then responded, "Yes, that's me. Good morning."

"Good morning to you too, ma'am. This is for you," he said, extending the box toward her with reverence, as if it were a precious artifact. Sookie accepted it cautiously, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"Do you know who sent it?" she asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

"There's a note under the bow," he replied, flashing a practiced, courteous smile. "Have a nice day."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode down the path, his movements fluid and purposeful. He vanished into a sleek black car, its engine purring softly as it glided away.

Sookie closed the door with a quiet click and carried the box into the living room. She set it gently on the coffee table and stood over it, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered above the ribbon.

"Eric," she whispered, the name slipping from her lips like a secret.

The red ribbon slipped through her fingers like water. A cream-colored card lay beneath, bearing slashes of midnight ink that curved and swooped with old-world precision. Sookie's pulse quickened as she eased the lid away. Something dark gleamed against plum-colored velvet—knee-high boots that caught the light like a raven's wing. When she traced the curve where calf would meet leather, her fingertip left no mark on the surface so buttery-soft it might have been poured rather than stitched. Between the boots, a corner of white peeked out. Her hand hesitated, then reached.

"These will never stain, never tear, and will always take you wherever you want to go. Show them off for yourself, but I'd love a front row seat.

-E."

Sookie's breath caught. She blinked rapidly, feeling heat prick behind her eyes. "Dammit, Eric," she whispered, the words sticking in her throat.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted one boot, pressing the cool leather against her flushed cheek. The scent wrapped around her—crisp pine needles, salt-kissed air, fresh snow on mountains she'd never seen. Her pulse quickened.

Ten minutes later, she stood before her bedroom mirror, the boots hugging her calves perfectly. She grabbed her purse and car keys, the leather creaking softly with each determined step toward the door. Baton Rouge wasn't getting any closer by her standing here.

Sookie settled into the three-hour journey, her fingers drumming appreciation against the steering wheel of her new car. The engine purred beneath her like a contented cat. She'd chosen her outfit with care that morning—the white blouse that made her tan pop, those skinny jeans that hugged just right, and Eric's boots rising like butter-soft armor up her calves. Her hair tumbled free around her shoulders, catching sunlight through the windows as she navigated toward Baton Rouge.

The city sprawled wider than she'd imagined, swallowing her small-town expectations in concrete and noise. She'd called everyone—Lafayette's line went straight to voicemail, and Tara could only offer a sympathetic sigh. Sam had vanished like morning mist and no one knew his whereabouts.

"Dammit," she muttered, pulling against the curb on a quiet side street. She leaned against the warm metal of her car, thumb hovering over Claudine's number. Three deep breaths later, she pressed call.

"Claudine?" Sookie's voice wavered into the phone. "I need to find someone in Baton Rouge. An old friend. I don't have an address or workplace. Is there some fairy trick for that?"

The passenger seat, empty a heartbeat before, suddenly contained Claudine—all glossy hair and effortless grace.

Sookie's hand flew to her chest. "Sweet Jesus! A little warning next time?"

"Phone calls are invitations," Claudine said with a shrug, her eyes drifting downward. "Those boots weren't in our shopping bags." Her eyebrow arched expectantly.

"Eric sent them," Sookie mumbled, heat climbing her neck.

Claudine's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "If that vampire's on your discard pile, I'll happily collect him. Anyone who gives footwear like that deserves appreciation, even a bloodsucker."

"He is not available," Sookie snapped, her voice sharper than intended.

"Possessive little fairy," Claudine laughed, patting Sookie's arm. "Now, this missing person of yours?"

Sookie recounted everything: Sam leaving Bon Temps, vanishing for three years, and how no one had heard from him since. She explained how he was devastated by her supposed "death."

Claudine listened intently, her brow knitted in concentration. She reached over the console, clasping Sookie's hands. "Alright. Close your eyes and envision him clearly."

Sookie complied, closing her eyes. She felt herself back in Merlotte's parking lot at dusk, Sam's flannel shirt rough against her cheek, his heartbeat steady beneath it. The scent of pine soap and beer lingered as he'd pulled away, those crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes—not quite a smile, more like he was holding something back. His calloused thumb had brushed her shoulder before he'd turned away, ducking his head so she wouldn't see whatever was written across his face.

Claudine squeezed her hands tight,

"Show me, show me where he lies,

So I can bring back his joy and bright skies."

A warm sensation spread from their joined hands, and when Sookie opened her eyes, Claudine held a small piece of parchment in her palm. It glowed softly.

An address. Written in elegant script. An exact location.

Claudine beamed. "There you go. He's not far. Ready to find him?"

Sookie's heart raced. "Let's go."

The city's Merlotte's was a far cry from the old Bon Temps bar. The sign still read "Merlotte's" in that homey rustic script, but the building had sleek brick walls, spotless glass windows, and a contemporary Louisiana vibe. Inside the air smelled of lemon oil, grilled shrimp, and hops. The floorboards gleamed, the walls were hung with black-and-white photos of bayous and snapshots of the original Bon Temps tavern, and from a corner speaker drifted mellow live jazz.

The bar itself curved in a long sweep of dark pecan wood, backed by a rack showcasing local liquors and imported bourbons. It had an urbane edge but remained warm and inviting. Sookie stood at the entrance, Claudine at her side, wearing a tailored lilac blazer that somehow felt both relaxed and refined. Sookie exhaled, her pulse thudding in her ears.

A tall young waitress in a mustard-colored apron approached with a friendly smile. "Table for two?"

Sookie clasped her hands and shook her head gently. "Actually, we're here to see the owner. Sam Merlotte."

The waitress blinked, then began, "Oh—he's just behind the bar. Want to leave a message—?"

But Sam had already heard. He stood behind the bar polishing a glass, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his arms broader than she'd remembered and sandy curls a bit longer. Mid-polish, he froze. His gaze slowly tracked to the entrance and locked on Sookie. The glass slipped and shattered on the counter.

Sookie flinched.

"No," he murmured. "No…this can't be real. Don't toy with me."

"Sam," she whispered, voice trembling. "It's me."

He hesitated, then bolted around the bar, stopping just inches from her, as if afraid she'd vanish again. Sookie managed a small apologetic smile. "Hi."

He panted, eyes wide. "You're…real? This isn't some vampire illusion?"

"No illusion," Claudine said, smiling knowingly. "She's very real."

Sam's face crumpled from disbelief to relief, grief, and something like joy. He ushered them into his office, where tears at last broke free.

"You…you look the same," he said, voice cracking. "Exactly the same."

"I know," she whispered back.

Sam reached as if to hug her, uncertain; Sookie stepped into his arms. He held her tight—warm and solid—and for the first time since returning, tears slipped from Sookie's eyes. Just a little.

"I thought you were dead," he murmured into her hair. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I didn't mean to disappear," she replied.

They lingered, wrapped in grief, memory, and a fragile hope. The bar's bustle faded from their awareness.

When they finally drew apart, Sam looked between Sookie and Claudine. "Wanna sit and talk?"

"We do," Sookie said softly. "There's a lot I need to explain."

He nodded and offered, "Sit down—I can bring drinks and some food in here."

Sookie took a seat and glanced to Claudine, who gave her an encouraging nod. "Drinks are fine. We'll pass on the food," Sookie said. Her stomach was a knot of nerves.

Sam returned with three glasses of sweet tea and sat facing them. His eyes never strayed from Sookie—tired, yet still holding a spark. Claudine squeezed Sookie's hand, steadying her.

Sookie began. She told him how she vanished, the Faery realm, how only an hour and fifteen minutes passed there while five years slipped by here, her great-grandfather's secret, and the truth of her heritage. She left out her most difficult choice.

Sam listened mostly in silence. His features went from blank to furrowed, then he sighed. "Damn," he said at last. "That's…hell of a story."

"I know it sounds—"

"Sook," he interrupted gently, "I believe you. I always did—even when it sounded impossible. And I'm used to odd quotas. Faes don't surprise me; I just never linked them to you." A sad smile touched his lips.

Sookie exhaled in relief; Claudine's hand squeezed hers again. Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't handle your disappearance well. I was wrecked. Everyone told me to move on. I stayed in Bon Temps, tried to keep the bar going, but every time I saw that door I waited for you. When you didn't come…one night I just lost it. I tore the old Merlotte's down. I couldn't stand the reminders—coffee, clatter of dishes, jukebox…your laugh stuck in the walls."

Sookie's eyes filled. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It wasn't your fault, cher," he replied softly. "But grief isn't logical. Soon after, I left Bon Temps. Baton Rouge felt like a fresh start—new bar, new focus. I haven't returned once."

A pause, then he continued, voice steadier. "But seeing you now…I'd thought I'd buried all that. Maybe leaving was the easiest path. I'm glad you're back, Sookie. I didn't know how much I needed your voice."

Sookie reached for his hand. "I missed you, Sam. I never meant to hurt you."

His thumb brushed hers before he withdrew. "You're changed—still you, but different."

Claudine offered a gentle smile. "That's the fae in her—she's grown."

Sam took a steadying breath. "So what's next for you? Sorry you don't have a job now."

Sookie glanced at her tea. "I'm figurin' that out. But I had to see you—to show I'm alive, to say I'm sorry, and thank you for everything you did for me back then."

"You'll always have that from me, cher," he said softly.

They sat in the office's quiet glow, old love and new beginnings forging a bridge between them. Eventually, they reached a silent understanding.

"I'll go to Bon Temps soon," Sam said. "I'll see what I can do about the old Merlotte's. It may be a wreck, but it deserves better. You deserve better."

Sookie placed her hand over his. "That place… it's part of who we were. It breaks my heart."

Smiling, he nodded. "Then I'll fix it. You have my word."

They rose and shared a long, heavy hug full of years of longing and unspoken affection. At last they pulled apart and said their goodbyes, for now.

Claudine and Sookie strolled together to the car, the chill of Baton Rouge's night air invigorating and crisp. Claudine slipped into the passenger seat, her presence a warm silence beside Sookie.

Sookie fastened her seatbelt, casting a grateful look at her cousin. "I really can't thank you enough. I'm not sure how I would've managed without you lately. You're not just family—you've been like my rock."

Claudine smiled softly, an enigmatic glimmer in her eyes. "We're linked by more than just kinship. You'll understand soon enough."

They merged onto the road, with the rhythmic whisper of tires against asphalt creating a gentle backdrop to their thoughts.

But for Sookie, the matter wasn't something she could ignore any longer.

"Claudine?"

"Mmm, yes, cousin?"

Sookie sneaked a glance at her. "Y'all keep insistin' I've changed. Sayin' I'm not the same. That there's somethin'... different about me. But when I look in the mirror, there ain't a wrinkle in sight. Not even a strand outta place. What kinda different are they talkin' about?"

Claudine let out a soft breath, mulling it over. "You've undergone quite the transformation. Your time in Faery didn't just stop your aging—it froze it in its tracks. It fed you. You're... somewhat timeless now, Sookie. You've turned into a fixed point between two worlds. And that alters more than just your appearance. It changes how folks perceive you."

Sookie's grip on the wheel tightened.

"Am I gonna live forever?"

"Nah, not unless you choose that path. But now you're tougher. More radiant. You were born special, and now you've been touched again—twice over. People, humans and Supes alike, will sense it. Some will be spooked by it. Others will be drawn to it."

"Eric..."

"Yeah, Eric in particular," Claudine said softly. "But that's not just because of what you are. It's who you are."

Sookie's heart quickened.

Claudine turned her gaze towards the road ahead. "You're different 'cause you've made it through the fire and back. Because you've loved and lost and faced magic and heartache and still come out with kindness blooming in your soul. That's a beauty no trickery or magic can imitate, Sookie. It's truly remarkable."

"Thanks, Claudine," Sookie said with a genuine, warm smile.

A rumble like distant thunder erupted from Sookie's midsection. She pressed her palm against her stomach, feeling the vibration beneath her fingers. "Lord, I clean forgot about food. Too busy with Sam to notice my own hunger."

"Should we pull over somewhere?" she asked, scanning the darkened highway ahead.

Claudine turned, moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. "Tell me what you're hungry for."

"Just whatever drive-thru we pass, I guess," Sookie said, already calculating how far they were from home.

"No." Claudine's voice took on that musical quality that wasn't quite human. "What are you truly hungry for, cousin?"

The emphasis wasn't lost on Sookie. Her fairy blood tingled with understanding.

"Waffles," she whispered, closing her eyes to better imagine them. "Belgian ones, drowning in strawberries and caramel, with chocolate shavings and a mountain of cream."

Warmth bloomed across her thighs as a box materialized, steam escaping from its edges. The scent of butter and sugar filled the car. Beside her, Claudine balanced a lacquered tray of rainbow-colored sushi rolls, already lifting one to her lips.

"The shoulder will do," she said, nodding toward the roadside. "Fairy takeout has its advantages."

Sookie guided the car off the road, laughing softly at how quickly the extraordinary had become her ordinary.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11. A Night Out

Sookie pulled into her driveway on autopilot, too drained even to think. Claudine gave her a quick hug and a fond wave before shimming away into whatever realm faes slip into and she managed a lazy wave in return, then let her forehead rest on the steering wheel. She was bone-tired.

When she finally made it through the front door, she never even reached the stairs. She dropped her purse by the entryway and collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning as she burrowed under a throw blanket like a retreating turtle. Every muscle in her body ached—not from any one injury, but from the emotional whiplash of long road trips, reunions she'd been looking forward to, and the sheer weight of exhaustion.

Her hand groped for her phone, and she squinted at the two unread messages.

One from Tara. One from Lafayette.

Tara:

"You better be ready tonight, girl. Club. Shreveport. We got dancing boots on and a bottle of something bubbly to pregame."

Lafayette:

"8PM. We pickin' yous ass up. Don't make me drag yous out."

She let out a weary chuckle. "Oh hell," she mumbled, lifting herself enough to check the clock. 7:04 PM.

"Oh hell!"

She bolted upright, kicked off her boots, and practically flew up the stairs.

A hot shower helped—steam eased her tense shoulders, though it did little for the knot in her gut. By the time she toweled off, her brain had moved from exhaustion to curious anticipation. Shreveport, huh?

She crossed to her closet, considering a quick detour through Fangtasia. Thank Eric for the boots. Maybe give him a little preview of what he'd be missing if he kept playing cryptic games. The thought sparked a thrill straight down her spine.

She selected a midnight-blue dress with long sleeves and a subtle shimmer, short enough to show off her legs but still elegant. With her new thigh-high leather boots—Eric's gift—she looked every bit like a Southern storm rolling in. Perfect, she thought.

By 7:45 her makeup was smoldering, her hair loose and tousled just so, and a spritz of Obsession lingered in the air. She faced her reflection, tilted her head, and smiled. "Well," she said softly, "if he's watching, let's give him something to remember."

The drive to Shreveport was charged with a kind of chaotic energy—one that buzzed just beneath the surface, alive and effervescent. The night air seeped through the cracked windows of Jesus' old but immaculate SUV, mingling with the sweet-sour aroma of weed, the sharp scent of liquor, and the undeniable whiff of nostalgia.

Tara was in the backseat with Sookie, her legs tucked beneath her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she pulled a small cooler from under the seat. "We ain't goin' in sober, girl," she whispered conspiratorially. "This is tradition, you know it."

Inside the cooler were little travel-sized bottles of tequila, flavored vodka, and those fruity drinks Tara always claimed were "dangerous 'cause they taste like Kool-Aid but hit like a freight train."

Sookie chuckled softly, already feeling a lightness blooming behind her eyes. She accepted the tequila bottle Tara offered, twisted off the cap, and took a careful sip. It burned sweetly, warmly, instantly.

"This is a bad idea," she remarked.

"This," Lafayette drawled from the front seat, exhaling a perfect smoke ring toward the cracked window, "is therapy. Now hush and drink, white girl."

Jesus just shook his head, smiling quietly from the driver's seat, his fingers tapping along to the gentle thump of music from the speakers. "Don't y'all get too wild before we even get there. I'm not carrying anyone's drunk butt into the club."

"That's why I wore my glitter boots," Tara said, playfully kicking her feet. "If I fall, at least I'll sparkle."

They all laughed—the kind of laughter that flows easily, melting away layers of armor you didn't realize you were still wearing.

Sookie leaned back against the seat, the bottle still in her hand, letting the rhythm of the music and the warmth of the liquor envelop her. It was as if her body was rediscovering how to feel good again—how to exist in her skin without fear lurking in every shadow.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or simply being with her people, but something within her began to unfurl—a part of her that had been tense, clenched, and silent for far too long.

They pulled up to Club Indigo just after nine. From the street it looked ordinary—a blank facade, dark windows, and a lone violet neon sign buzzing above the door. Inside, though, was another world. The bass hit first, vibrating through her bones like a second heartbeat. Rich blues, purples, and reds washed over the dance floor in stained-glass swaths. The air was laced with citrus, sweat, and perfume, mingling with a warm, sugary scent drifting from the bar.

Tara grabbed Sookie's hand at the entrance while Lafayette spun once, then strode forward as if claiming a throne. Jesus followed quietly, eyes sweeping the crowd as though reading its mood.

Sookie shed her coat onto a booth and let the music pull her in. They danced—no rehearsed moves, just pure, raw joy. Tara threw her arms wide as if shaking off old skin. Lafayette rolled his hips with a grin that could crack mirrors. Sookie moved like she was rediscovering herself.

People turned to watch. She noticed but didn't mind.

Somewhere between songs someone pressed a drink into her hand and she drank. Another tried to press up behind her; she laughed him off. She was riding a wave of memory, adrenaline, and rhythm. Her boots clicked on the floor, her heart ached, her smile was real.

Three different men asked her to dance; she declined each with a polite shake of her head.

The fourth was different. He said nothing, just offered his hand. Tall, bronze-skinned, broad-shouldered, his deep-set eyes looked earnest even through the club's haze. He wore a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up and perfectly fitted black pants. Confidence gleamed in his posture, but not arrogance.

Sookie hesitated, then glanced at Tara, who lifted an eyebrow in encouragement. She slipped her hand into his.

The music shifted to a slower, pulsing groove. They swayed together—close enough for her to feel his warmth, distant enough to keep her own space. He was patient, matching her pace, never pushing.

She didn't ask his name and never planned to. This moment wasn't about a story or a future; it was about freedom.

For the first time in ages, Sookie Stackhouse wasn't the girl who'd vanished, wasn't the one with secrets stitched into her skin, wasn't tangled in vampire politics or fae intrigue. She was just a girl dancing under violet lights with a stranger who knew nothing of her past—and it felt amazing.

But Eric Northman knew everything. Across the room, high on the mezzanine railing and half-hidden in shadow, a tall blond figure watched her, his eyes glowing faintly blue.

Eric's boots hit the asphalt with a predator's purpose as he stepped from the black SUV, eyes flicking over Club Indigo's neon maw like a wolf sniffing out territory. He hated this place—walls pulsing with bass, air thick with sweat and perfume—but Pam had insisted on an investment angle. He hadn't told her the real reason he came. Hell, he barely admitted it to himself. He'd felt her pull on their bond and followed her trail straight here.

He pushed through the doors like he owned every inch of the joint. His presence alone carved out a domain. The music throbbed in his veins, the strobe lights sliced across bodies, and every breath was smeared with cheap cologne, spilled drink, hot skin…and her. Sookie's scent crashed into him, not just honeyed warmth or summer-memories, but a gritty swirl of smoke, liquor, and another man's musk.

His jaw locked. He forced his feet forward, weaving through bodies, through flashes of light. Somewhere in this crush of flesh and sound, she was laughing, dancing, living—without him.

And then he saw her. Time didn't stop, but it wavered, pulses snapping slower. She spun under violet light, hair fanning out like a halo, face lit by a joy he hadn't seen in centuries. She was cradled in the arms of a stranger—tall, polished, untouchingly confident—wrapping his hands around her waist like he'd earned that right. Sookie leaned into him as if Eric had never existed.

His veins tightened. He melted into the shadows by the bar, every pulse a hammer blow. If she was his—and he'd sworn she was—no one else was allowed that claim.

A younger vampire bartender drifted over. "Sheriff—need anything?"

Eric didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He just watched as Sookie's gaze snapped to his. Across the cavern of sweat and light, her eyes locked onto his, and everything around them fell away.

Her smile flickered—bright spark dimming. She froze mid-spin. The stranger's grip slackened. Her hand slid from his shoulder.

Eric tilted his head. No greeting, no signal—just that look. Fury and possessiveness and longing rolled into one silent command.

The man staggered back, confusion etched on his face, then melted into the crowd. Sookie's chest rose and fell, as if she'd been holding her breath.

She started walking toward him, each step a slow drumbeat. Her boots clicked against the concrete, echoing through the haze. Her heart pounded so hard she felt it in her throat, tequila warmth twisting in her gut—but she didn't hesitate. She kept coming.

Eric didn't move as she approached, but the air between them seemed to crackle and bend. His eyes burned blue-white like the heart of a flame, muscles in his forearms visibly coiling beneath pale skin. The bass from the speakers hammered against the walls, but Sookie's ears filled with nothing but the rush of her own blood and the echo of his voice from last night—What do you want from me, Sookie?—each word a brand on her memory.

She stopped inches from him. Tilted her chin up. Heat flooded her face and throat, prickling down her spine.

"Well," she said, voice raw, "didn't expect to see you here."

Eric's gaze locked onto hers, unblinking, pupils dilated to black pools. "Clearly."

The silence between them stretched taut enough to snap.

His eyes raked over her—from her sweat-dampened hair to the pulse hammering in her neck, down to her legs still glittering with that fairy shimmer she couldn't suppress. His jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth grind. "You smelled like you had fun"

She crossed her arms, fingernails digging into her own skin. "Wasn't that the point?"

His voice dropped to a growl that vibrated through her bones. "Was it?"

Sookie spun to escape, but Eric's hand shot out, encircling her wrist like an iron shackle. Her lungs seized.

"Outside," he commanded, each syllable a threat. "Now."

She caught Tara, Jesus, and Lafayette watching from their booth, three faces lit with different shades of the same curiosity. Tara's thumbs-up, Lafayette's arched eyebrow, Jesus hiding behind his cocktail—a silent chorus of go on.

Sookie grabbed her coat with a sigh. "Fine."

The night air hit her flushed skin like ice water. Streetlamps cast puddles of amber across wet pavement, their electric buzz competing with the muffled thump of bass from behind Club Indigo's walls.

Eric's fingers uncoiled from her wrist with a sharp snap. He stalked forward, the floorboards groaning under him. With long, deliberate strokes, he raked his hand through his hair, shoulders rigid beneath the leather.

"Seriously?" His voice cut through the haze of music, cold and unyielding. "Dancing with strangers. Smelling like… him. While you're still in my boots."

Sookie stumbled back, heel catching. Her breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

He tilted his head, jaw clenched. "You heard me."

She tried to steady herself. "I was just dancin', Eric. Not everything's about you." Her words slurred at the end, betraying the tremor in her throat.

His gaze snapped to hers, ice in his eyes. "Then why do you reek of his cologne? Why was his hand on your waist?"

She scoffed. "You don't get to police me. You're the one who said we're not together. Your words."

He advanced, each step measured, predatory. "And you agreed," he growled. "You made the rules."

"I made the rules so I could breathe," she shot back, fists clenching. "So I could trust you again. Not feel like someone's property!"

He flinched, as if struck. "You think I treat you like property?"

Her voice cracked. "No. But you scare me. What I feel with you—it's too much. I just wanted one night to feel… light. Normal. Not hunted, not wanted, not fought over. A night without politics, magic families, decisions, shit. I'm done."

He looked away, neon lights painting him in fractured color. The silence between them pulsed.

She took a cautious step forward. "I wasn't tryin' to hurt you."

"You did," he said softly, venom lacing his words. "You smell like him, Sookie. That alone could make me burn down a city." He inhaled slowly, the sound loud in the hush.

He closed the gap until his heat pressed into her. His restraint seemed painful. His fists clenched.

"You wanted me to be patient," he murmured, voice low and tense. "I gave you space. I didn't touch you. Didn't kiss you when your eyes begged for it. But you dance like that—let another man touch you? Tell me: what am I supposed to do with that?"

Her voice wavered. "I didn't sleep with him."

He exhaled sharply. "Fuck—I know that. I'd have felt it."

Silence stretched, heavy as stone.

"I just wanted to feel… free," she whispered.

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked up at the sky, then back down. "You don't think I want that for you? Freedom? Peace? A life without monsters, deals, shadows?" He stepped closer, the heat between them crackling. "But I am a monster, Sookie. Never hid that. So tell me—do you want me here? Or should I leave?"

Her lip trembled. Her hands shook. She knew he meant forever, not just tonight.

"I don't know," she breathed. "My head's a mess. Those cards burning in my heart. What Jesus said. What I felt last night. What I feel now—" Her breath caught, words lost.

His voice dropped to a broken whisper. "What cards… Sookie, I'm real. I'm fucking real. I've shown you—what I'd do for you, what I want to give you."

They stood inches apart, the distant hum of traffic and flicker of neon a heartbeat around them.

"Say the word," he murmured, eyes locked on hers. "I'll walk away. Say nothing, and I'm staying."

She swallowed. The thunder of her pulse filled the silence.

She said nothing. He stayed.

They stood in silence outside Club Indigo, shadows pooling at their feet as the late‐night bass throbbed around them. Neither moved. Sookie tilted her head up toward Eric, lips parted, every heartbeat hammering against her throat.

Eric loomed, sculpted from moonlight and barely contained fury. Yet in his eyes lay something deeper—an ache so raw it made the air tremble.

"You don't want me to leave," he murmured, voice low and taut.

She shook her head, barely.

"But you don't know what to do with me either."

Her head dipped in a slower, trembling refusal. Her fingers knotted together, knuckles whitening on her lace gloves. "You're not an easy choice."

He let out a brittle laugh. "Apparently not."

She drew in a ragged breath—sweet, heady, maddening. Under the streetlamp her skin glowed, and Eric felt the pull of her like gravity. One more step and he'd lose himself entirely.

But Sookie moved first. One deliberate footstep, then another. She raised a trembling hand and brushed her fingertips over his chest, just enough to feel every hard ridge beneath his shirt. "You're not nothing, either."

He exhaled a groan that rattled his ribs, his palm rising until it hovered beside her face, suspended by want but held back by something stronger.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" he whispered. "Tempting me. Daring me."

"Because I can't stop," she admitted, voice raw. "You drive me insane."

That shattered him. His hand curved to cup her cheek, and she leaned in, eyelashes fluttering. Her lips hovered at his.

"You smell like another man," he rasped, "but all I want is to erase him. Replace him."

"Then do it."

His mouth crashed onto hers—no delicacy, no patience—just years of longing and silence erupting in a fierce, desperate claim. Sookie gasped, fingers latching onto his shoulders, teeth sinking into fabric as he hoisted her off the pavement like she weighed nothing. He pressed her spine against the cold brick, their bodies locking together with the force of a detonated charge.

His hands roamed—thighs, waist, back—holding her close, devouring her in every kiss. She was drowning in him: his scent, his strength, the wild tenderness beneath all that ferocity. He kissed as if he wanted to imprint her soul onto his own.

Her legs curled around his waist.

"Tell me to stop," he growled against her pulse. "Say it now."

She didn't breathe a word. So he continued, mouth trailing down her throat in hungry worship. Sookie leaned back, arching into him, a soft moan trembling out of her.

"Gods, Sookie. You're going to break me."

"Maybe I already did," she gasped back.

Then, like ice piercing flame, reality snapped through him. He froze mid-kiss, breath catching, muscles stiffening. Gradually, he set her down with agonizing slowness and stepped back as if struck.

Sookie swayed, reaching for him. "Eric—"

He shook his head, chest heaving, eyes dark with regret. "No. This isn't how we do it. If I'm to take you, it won't be against a filthy club wall."

Her bottom lip trembled. "But—"

He made a sound between a growl and a sigh, running both hands through his hair. Then, impossibly gentle, he closed the distance again, cupped her face, and pressed a single, fierce kiss to her forehead.

"I'm not made of stone, Sookie. But I'm trying. For you."

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him—agony and salvation entwined—her heart breaking open all at once.

Eric watched her, the fire in her eyes dimming under exhaustion and frustration. She swayed again, then stumbled back.

"Sookie—"

"I'm fine," she slurred, though her hand went to her temple. "Just… dizzy."

Eric spat a curse into the dark and snagged her elbow before she pitched forward. Without a word, he slung an arm around her waist and hauled her across the cracked asphalt, skirts rustling past a ring of gawking faces, toward his black sedan hunkered under a sputtering lamppost.

She made no protest. By the time he popped open the passenger door, she was half limp, her body folding into the seat as though gravity had suddenly doubled. The second the door latched, she let out a long, ragged sigh and went still—her chest barely rising.

Eric leaned against the roof, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. What the hell was he doing?

He slid behind the wheel, slammed the door, and gripped the steering wheel until the leather groaned. She'd begged for freedom tonight—an escape from duty, from the stale haze of fear and sorrow that clung to her bones. He'd understood that. But watching her slip away into sleep wounded him fiercely, like a knife twisting in his gut.

The road to Bon Temps stretched before him, a ribbon of asphalt swallowed by inky pines that drifted past in ghostly blurs. He stole glances at her pale profile, golden waves tumbling over her shoulder like drowned sunlight.

Halfway home, her breath hitched.

Then a raw sob tore free.

He spun in his seat, heart thundering. She blinked through tears, confusion sharpening her features as salt tracks glimmered on her cheeks.

"Sookie?" he whispered, voice rough.

"Stop," she croaked. "Pull over. Please."

He yanked onto the shoulder. Gravel spat beneath the tires.

Before he could speak, she yanked her door open and stumbled into the night, arms wrapping around her middle like she could hold herself together. The grass whispered under her boots; the wind clawed at her hair.

He sprang out, every muscle taut. "Sookie—"

He'd seen her fierce, heard her laughter crack the night air. But like this—shaky, transparent, trembling under a tide of silent pain—he felt something shatter inside him. She was unraveling, dying a little more each second.

He checked his watch. Midnight. Hours until dawn. He'd stay here, pinned to the roadside, until her tears dried and her strength flickered back. Anything less would burn him alive with regret.

She braced herself against the hood, shoulders rising and falling like a wounded bird. The moonlight slashed through the trees, painting her hair in silver streaks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice small and fractured. "I just…needed to breathe."

He said nothing, folding his arms across his chest as if he could hold himself still. Each heartbeat shouted to reach for her, to pull her close and shield her from her own heartbreak.

Her knees wobbled. Her body tilted toward the asphalt. Instinct flared—he caught her waist, drew her into his arms. She made no move to pull away. Instead, she collapsed against him with a shuddering exhale, as though at last she'd been handed a moment's peace.

He cradled her tenderly, sliding into the driver's seat with her nestled against him for a moment before securing her with the seatbelt. As the tires roared back onto the highway, she drifted into slumber—head tilted, mouth slightly ajar, her breaths rhythmic and calming. Eric stole glances at her, his gaze lingering, before heaving a deep sigh, the tension unspooling from his shoulders like a tightly wound spring snapping free.

"Why does this have to be so damn hard?" he muttered through clenched teeth, each word laced with frustration. "Is this what fate looks like? A chaotic mess of mismatched timing?"

His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles white with pressure, jaw set like stone.

"Maybe… this is all a mistake," he forced out, voice barely above a whisper.

A/N: Don't hate me, please.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, I apologize for not updating recently. Here is a short chapter, but it is written with love. I've been ill this week and barely able to work at half speed, with no energy to write. I hope to be better next week. Thank you so much for your reviews 3 and thank you for understanding Sookie's journey here.

Obviously, Eric didn't believe his own words in the last chapter, but I wanted to leave that up in the air for a bit, haha.

Chapter 11.

"Maybe… maybe this wasn't meant to be," he forced out, voice barely above a whisper. But even as the bitter words hung in the air, he knew the truth—they were lies, hollow and unconvincing.

Chapter 12: A Tender Retreat

Later, in Bon Temps

The house lay in hushed shadow when they arrived. Crickets thrummed like a distant heartbeat, and the porch light burned soft and golden, promising refuge. Eric lifted Sookie from the car as though she weighed nothing more than a wisp of smoke. Her arms curled around his neck without thought, draping her weight against him.

He didn't set her down on the couch this time. Not when she needed more than half-measured kindness.

In her bedroom, he laid her at the bed's edge, then slipped away. The bathroom faucet gurgled as he tested the water's heat, fine-tuning it until it promised comfort rather than burn. He found her lavender–chamomile salts in the cabinet, opened the jar to let that calm sweetness fill the air, then returned.

Her lids fluttered open, glassy with fatigue and alcohol. "You're takin' care of me…" she murmured, words slack and laced with sleep. "That's… real sweet, Eric."

His knelt beside her. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." Her head lolled, trusting, as he unfastened the zipper of her dress. She didn't fight or shy away—only murmured indecipherable half-phrases. "You're a real keeper, Eric," she whispered, smiling through that haze. "Sorry for not tellin' ya sooner."

His throat seized. He peeled the fabric free, baring her damp bra and panties, soaked with perspiration and the weight of the night. Her skin glowed with that faint fae shimmer he'd seen before—warm, alive, untouchable.

He hesitated at the underwear. That line held. Not tonight.

He supported her, guiding her legs into the steaming bath. She sank beneath the surface with a sigh so deep it sounded like surrender. He lifted a soft sponge, dripped it into the scented water, then began to wash her—arms first, firm but gentle, then across her shoulders, down the curve of her back, along slim calves that trembled beneath his palm.

She exhaled soft, content murmurs, hair drifting in lavender-scented swirls. Eric kept his gaze fixed on his hands—an iron-willed restraint pulsing through every vein. He would not abuse her vulnerability. Not ever.

She cracked her eyes halfway, gave him a smile that splintered something inside him. "You always this good to women you're not sleepin' with?" she teased, voice husky.

He dared a faint smirk. "Only the ones I'm willing to ruin myself for."

Her smile flickered, then she sank back into that heavy sleep. He lifted her from the tub, water cascading in silver rivulets down her curves, towel wrapping around them both in a humid embrace. The fabric clung to her skin, damp and intoxicating, fueling every primal cell in his undead body that screamed for more.

He dressed her in her robe, each movement charged with aching tenderness, brushed a stray lock of hair from her flushed cheek. She stirred, half-seen in moonlight, murmur-soft: "M'sleepy."

"I know," he whispered, voice low and reverent.

She clutched his wrist, pulling him close. "Don't go." Her plea was raw, naked in its need.

He stayed, clothed but for boots and shirt, chest bare to the pale glow through her window. She curled into his side, as though she'd lived there forever, head warm against him. His arm came around her in a cage of unwavering protectiveness. He tilted his fingers into her hair, stroking slow over honey-gold strands, over and over until her breathing steadied.

He watched her eyelashes brush her cheeks, her parted lips rising and falling with each breath. Her thigh slid across his, half-casting him under that soft weight. Every impulse shouted to seize her, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and never let go. But he held himself—unyielding.

Then—almost too soft to hear—"Eric..." Her voice strangled him.

"Yes?" he breathed.

Her fingers traced circles on his ribs. "You smell like home." The words struck him like ice and fire.

"I truly want to believe in you, Eric." A bittersweet ache pierced through him. Her robe slid further off her shoulder, and he diverted his eyes, unable to let himself see. "If I'm yours, Eric, does that mean you're mine?" she asked, each syllable a soft confession.

His heart stuttered. "Do you want me to be yours, Sookie?"

"I think I do…" Her eyelids drifted shut again, and he pressed a feather-light kiss to her temple.

Night held them close, but dawn would crack that fragile world. He'd tasted the truth of her drunk confessions—warm and intoxicating—but he knew better than to cling to illusions born in sleep. He'd seen loves forged in flame and torn to ashes. Sookie's body had been his sanctuary, her scent restored—honeyed sunlight with a whisper of chamomile. But morning would wash it all away.

An hour before sunrise, he gingerly unwound her arms, and she murmured something about peaches before melting back into dreams. He granted himself one last indulgence—a kiss to her brow—then slipped from the room.

In the kitchen, grief bloomed quietly in his chest as he rifled for paper and pen. He found them in a drawer crammed with coupons and takeout menus, leaned against the counter, and wrote. Folding the note with trembling fingers, he left it on her bedside table, inhaled once more that vanished warmth, and vanished himself.

Sookie awoke with her head throbbing as if church bells were clanging on a stormy Sunday. The light streaming through the curtains was relentless. She turned her head and groaned, feeling the dryness in her mouth, the aches in her body, and a stomach teetering between rebellion and nausea. Above all, she couldn't recall the reason why. Her phone vibrated persistently beside her. Squinting and still groggy, she reached for it. Five messages awaited her.

Two were from Tara:

"Girl, where did you disappear to?"

"Call me when you can. Seriously."

"What the—" Sookie muttered, rubbing her eyes.

One was from Lafayette:

"I swear if that Viking took yous and didn't even let you say bye, I'mma hex him into next week."

"Oh no, no, no," Sookie gasped, holding her breath. Did I see Eric yesterday?

Two were from Amelia:

"Morning sunshine! Just confirming I'll be there around 6. Bringing wine. And candles."

"OMG. Can't wait. We're gonna be such good roomies."

Sookie managed a faint smile. Amelia's enthusiasm was like a small burst of warmth. But then a heavy feeling settled in her chest, an emptiness. She sat up, realizing she was clad only in a robe. Panic surged through her.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," she whispered.

She glanced around the room, searching for clues. Her eyes landed on a note. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

Sookie,

You are safe. I kept my word, and I always will. I stayed through the night to make sure nothing touched you but rest and healing.

I don't want to be the reason for your suffering.

I will still be here, still protect you, and still honor the agreement we made. All of it.

When you are ready, I will be here for you.

Until then,
–E.

She read it once. Then again. Then a third time, her fingers crushing the paper's edges. The words blurred as her vision swam, each syllable a serrated blade carving into her flesh. Her lungs seized. Her throat closed.

He was gone. Not with fangs bared or doors splintered off hinges. But with the quiet finality of a coffin lid closing. The way immortals vanished when they'd survived enough heartbreak to recognize its approach.

"No," she choked out, the word strangled and raw.

The first tear scalded her cheek like acid. Then came the flood—hot, violent, unstoppable. Her chest didn't just ache—it ripped open, a gaping wound exposing everything she'd tried to protect. Eric was cutting her loose with the cruel mercy of a thousand-year-old heart. With calculated distance. With bloodless precision. With unbearable silence.

Her fingers stabbed at the phone screen, sending one message:

"SOS."

The air crackled and tore open. Claudine materialized with a thunderclap, dripping wet, towel barely clinging to her body, her eyes blazing with murderous fury.

"Who do I need to skin alive?" she hissed, water pooling at her bare feet. "Tell me it's the Viking. I've been waiting a millennium."

Sookie's laugh ripped from her throat like broken glass before collapsing into a guttural sob that bent her double. "He's gone," she choked out, the words burning her mouth like acid.

Claudine's nostrils flared. She dropped beside Sookie, gripping her shoulders. "What. Did. He. Do?"

"I was drunk—so goddamn drunk," Sookie gasped between ragged breaths. "Dancing with everyone, trying to forget everything. Some guy danced with me, then Eric was there, and we screamed at each other. Then the room spun and—" Her voice shattered. "He carried me home. Bathed me…"

She thrust the note at Claudine, her hands trembling violently. "But then I found this—this is goodbye. This is him walking away while pretending he's not."

Claudine's eyes darkened as she read, her skin beginning to glow with an otherworldly light.

"I'm drowning," Sookie whispered, clawing at her chest. "Everyone says I'm this powerful fairy princess, but I can't even breathe right now. I ain't powerful. I'm fuckin' fallin' apart'."

As soon as the words left her lips, Sookie felt a surge of anger rising from deep within, a molten tide that she had kept dammed up for far too long. It wasn't just the years that had slipped through her fingers like sand; it was the countless moments of betrayal and pain, the times when Bill had shattered her trust and left her heart in pieces. She remembered the hollow ache of those wasted days, the sting of his broken promises. Now, the thought of loving someone worthy felt like an impossible dream, a cruel joke.

Her skin prickled with heat, and an electric energy buzzed in her fingertips. She felt like a pot on the verge of boiling over, driven by a feral, uncontrollable force. The tingling in her hands intensified, morphing into a blaze that lit up her palms with a fierce, white-gold luminescence. "I hate this shit," she muttered under her breath, her voice a low growl, and she directed her fury at the bedroom door. With a blinding flash, the door splintered into fragments, leaving the floorboards groaning beneath the force.

Unleashed, Sookie couldn't hold back. She turned her fiery wrath on everything in sight—pillows exploded in a flurry of feathers, windows shattered into jagged shards, and the walls trembled under her relentless assault. Claudine stood silently nearby, her expression calm and understanding. She knew this was a storm Sookie had to weather, a cathartic release that had been long overdue.

Finally, the energy drained from her, leaving her hollow and exhausted. Sookie collapsed onto the living room sofa, her body trembling with the remnants of her outburst. Her face was a mosaic of tears, each drop a testament to the pain and fury she had finally let free.

Claudine's palm settled over Sookie's heart, cool against her feverish skin. "That right there?" She nodded toward the destruction. "Pure fairy rage. When our kind breaks, we don't just cry—we blast the world around us." Her eyes softened. "I helped steal five years from you, Sookie. Five birthdays. Five Christmases. A thousand sunsets you'll never see. And I am truly sorry for that. That hole inside you? I can't even imagine how much it hurts."

Sookie's voice cracked. "What if Eric's gone for good? What if I'm too—" she gestured at the shattered room, "—this for anyone to love?"

"Brigant blood doesn't do 'normal,' honey." Claudine brushed a tear from Sookie's cheek. "But Eric didn't fall for normal, did he? He fell for you—fairy chaos and all. Drop the rules. Drop the fear. Just give him truth."

"How?" Sookie whispered into her palms.

Claudine tilted Sookie's chin up. "First fix this, then fix yourself —" her eyes flashed around the room, "— and only then you'll be able to show him what he really means to you."

Chapter Text

A/N: I must admit that I worked really hard on this chapter; I wanted to venture into Eric's most personal layers so that Sookie wouldn't feel alone in her emotional turmoil. I hope you like it. 

Chapter 13. Healing

The days following Claudine's visit dragged on languidly, each moment feeling like trudging through thick, viscous honey. Sookie found herself caught in a haze of weariness or perhaps numbness, as if her very essence had detached from reality. Her outward façade went through the motions—moving, speaking, smiling on cue—but internally, she felt adrift, a mere spectator to her own life. An insidious ache settled within her, a profound emptiness that seemed to permeate her very bones, unyielding and all-encompassing. The absence of Eric weighed heavily on her heart.

Mornings proved to be the cruelest hours. Waking up entangled in disheveled sheets, her hand instinctively seeking the warmth of a body no longer present. Occasionally, his lingering scent would ghost over her pillow, a bittersweet reminder of his absence. The cruel trickery of memory taunted her, playing with her emotions like a malevolent puppeteer.

Amelia emerged as a beacon of light amidst the fog of despondency. In a matter of days, she seamlessly integrated into Sookie's life, bringing with her an aura of belonging. Bob, the feline companion, claimed a sunlit perch by the window, while the house hummed with subtle enchantments—teacups warming themselves, lights dimming to match moods, and melodies wafting through the air like fragrant wisps. Somewhere between shared laughter over freshly baked cinnamon rolls and intimate conversations on the complexities of love, Sookie began to rediscover fragments of her true self.

Yet, the void persisted, impervious to the distractions of comfort food or soothing baths. It gnawed at her most acutely at twilight, that ethereal threshold between day and night when her heartache felt most palpable. Standing on the porch with a glass of sweet tea, she gazed down the road, yearning for a miracle that failed to materialize.

In search of solace, she wandered Bon Temps aimlessly. Visits to familiar faces brought both solace and sorrow—Mrs. Digby's tearful embrace, Maxine Fortenberry's startled recognition, and the ruins of Merlotte's that whispered of bygone memories. Contemplating the resurrection of Sam's legacy sparked a flicker of hope within her.

Frequent sojourns to Tara and Lafayette's abode provided some respite. Jesus' comforting embraces and expertly brewed herbal teas offered a fleeting sense of calm. Though Eric's name remained unspoken, his specter loomed large in every glance, every unspoken conversation.

Then, on the eighth day, as she folded laundry in a cocoon of solitude, a sudden rapping echoed through the quietude. Time seemed to halt. With trepidation, Sookie made her way to the door, where a delivery man awaited, bearing a pristine white box adorned with a crimson satin ribbon, a symbol of unexpected possibilities.

"Miss Stackhouse?" The delivery man's voice broke the afternoon silence as he stood at the threshold, a plain brown package cradled in his arms.

She nodded, her curiosity piqued.

"Delivery for you. No return label, but there's a note inside. Have a nice day." He handed over the box with a polite smile.

She accepted it gingerly, feeling the weight in her hands. "Thanks."

As the door clicked shut behind her, she lingered in the foyer, her eyes fixed on the package. Her heart began to race, a soft drumbeat in her chest. With deliberate care, she slipped her fingers under the satin ribbon, feeling its smooth texture, and slowly untied it before lifting the lid.

Nestled inside was a velvet-lined wooden case, its surface a rich mahogany, polished to a flawless sheen. Her fingers trembled slightly as she ran them along the edge, anticipation growing with each breath, before finally opening it to reveal its hidden contents.

The scarf felt as soft as a whisper, a pale cream backdrop adorned with faded floral patterns—roses and wildflowers in soft shades of plum, dusty rose, and tangerine. The fabric shimmered subtly in the light, as if it had been touched by the afternoon sun. Its edges were adorned with small tassels in pink and beige, gently swaying like the tail end of a softly spoken sentence. It wasn't a bold accessory; it exuded quiet sophistication—vintage, possibly handcrafted. It was the kind of scarf that carried a faint scent of lavender and nostalgia, one that wrapped around not just your neck, but around a fleeting moment.

"Dearest Sookie,

If you are reading this, then I'm keeping one of my promises. You asked me for acts of kindness every week.

I know you hate cold weather, hopefully this will help with that.

You also must know that your protection is on point, day and night. Wander around without fear.

—E."

Sookie's eyes welled up and a solitary tear cascaded onto the page, a poignant testimony to her anguish. Refusing to brush it away, she clutched the scarf tightly to her chest, each thread a painful reminder, as she murmured, "Curse you, Eric Northman."

Seven days slipped away, each one brighter than Sookie had expected.

When Sam's truck pulled into Bon Temps, kicking up dust from the parish roads, something clicked back into place. They stood together in the charred skeleton of Old Merlotte's, Sam pointing at empty spaces where walls would rise again, Sookie nodding as he unfolded blueprints across the hood of his truck.

"We could move the bar over here," he'd said, tapping a spot on the paper. "Give folks more room to dance."

Sookie had laughed. "Since when do people dance at Merlotte's?"

"Since now," Sam had replied, his eyes crinkling. "New Merlotte's, new rules."

They'd spent hours like that, planning beam heights and booth arrangements, both of them knowing without saying that they weren't just rebuilding a bar—they were restoring a heartbeat to Bon Temps. And Sookie wasn't just the girl with the serving tray anymore. Her name would be on the paperwork. Her money in the foundation.

Later, with Sam gone and twilight settling over her porch, Sookie spread the sketches across her lap. She traced potential doorways with her fingertip, imagined the sound of glasses clinking, of laughter.

The screen door whined on its hinges as Amelia pushed through it, two sweating glasses of tea in her hands. She settled into the chair opposite Sookie, watching her with knowing eyes.

Sookie lifted one brow. "What's up?"

Amelia handed her a cool glass and settled back with her own drink. "You seem… happy."

Sookie glanced down at her sketches. "I think I am. Sorta."

"Sorta?" Amelia tilted her head, curious. "You've been out here humming to yourself for an hour like someone whose soul just got a spa treatment. Don't sugarcoat it."

Sookie laughed softly. "It's just… this place—this bar—felt like home. Not just to me, to so many folks. Rebuilding it feels right, like I'm doing something that matters. And it's not like before, when I was running from my gifts or hiding behind a basket of onion rings. Now I'm part of it. I have a voice."

Amelia's smile softened. "That sounds like real progress."

Sookie's finger drifted over one of her doodled tables. Her voice dropped. "But sometimes… I still feel empty inside."

Amelia waited a beat, letting the quiet stretch out.

After a moment she said gently, "It's been fifteen days since you saw him."

Sookie looked up, startled. "You're keeping count for me now?"

"I'm just sayin' it out loud. You've been keeping track."

Sookie sighed, curling her hands around her glass. "I miss him. Bad. But I ain't ready yet. Every time I picture him walking away, it hurts all over. Then I read his note again and remember why he left—he thought it was best for me. For both of us. I need time to heal."

Amelia leaned forward. "So what do you want for that time?"

Sookie was quiet for a moment, a breeze catching a stray curl. "First, I want to rebuild Merlotte's. Second, I want to learn to trust Eric. And I realize that to trust him, I have to trust myself. I'm not planning on going anywhere I don't choose, right? I've got these five extra years—five years to make things right. Life will always be messy, but it's a heck of a lot easier if I surround myself with the right people." She flipped her notebook open and started sketching. "Whether I end up living as a human or a fairy, it won't matter unless I choose carefully who's with me. And once I decide that, everything else—my lineage, my future—will fall into place."

Amelia nodded. Sookie's words tumbled out like a river breaking free. Good progress, Amelia thought.

Sookie closed her notebook. "And when I think about who could share this wild ride… Bill's not on that list. He belongs to my past. But Eric—he's still here. He made it through everything, and if he hadn't been standing at my door when I came back, I'm sure I'd have gone looking for him anyway." She paused. "Sorry I'm rambling."

Amelia reached over to squeeze Sookie's shoulder. "Don't apologize, sunshine. This is perfect. I'm proud of you."

They remained silent for a few seconds, enjoying the breeze that filled the porch.

Sookie sniffed the air and perked up. "Hey—do I smell pancakes?"

The next morning, Sookie squinted against the pale light filtering through her kitchen window. Her breath fogged slightly in the chill as she poured coffee into her grandmother's chipped mug. A sharp rap at the door made her pause mid-sip. She padded across the worn floorboards, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim, and nudged the screen door open with her hip. Her shoulders tensed when she spotted a black sedan in her driveway and the man climbing her steps—crisp suit, polished shoes that reflected the silver dew on her lawn, and tucked beneath his arm, that unmistakable white box with its perfect corners.

"Miss Stackhouse," he greeted her with warmth.

"You again?" she replied with a smile, feeling her heart skip slightly.

"Got another delivery for you," he said with a wink.

She accepted the white box adorned with a rich crimson ribbon.

He tipped his hat and departed, leaving her on the porch, breathless and holding the weight of anticipation.

Inside the cozy kitchen, Sookie eased herself onto a wooden chair at the table, her fingers trembling slightly as she carefully untied the silky ribbon with a sense of awe. As the ribbon fell away, the box revealed its treasure: the most exquisite necklace Sookie had ever laid eyes on. It was a stunning modern replica of a Viking torque, crafted meticulously from gleaming white gold.

Each end cradled a blood-red ruby that caught the morning light and held it, burning like twin embers against the white gold.

Gently lifting the necklace, she noticed a folded parchment nestled beneath it. The paper crackled softly as she unfolded it, revealing Eric's handwriting — each letter sharp and deliberate, flowing with a strangely elegant precision in dark, bold ink.

Sookie,

This gift arrives with no strings attached. It is not crafted to awe or dazzle. It is merely a fragment of my history. The rubies, relics in my possession for centuries, hail from the depths of Italy. I seized it during a fierce hunt in the 14th century. The chain, gleaming white gold, was forged anew in the fires of Ösland.

If you decide to wear it, let it be because it resonates with your very being—not because of the one who bestowed it upon you. However, if you choose to set it aside, guard it in shadows and safety.

Now, not many people are aware of my human story, yet for some reason, I feel compelled to share it with you.

I was born Eiríkr Björnsson, heir to a bloodline of shield-bearers and sword-wielders. My father's halls echoed with the songs of my elder brother's conquests while my younger brother—the one who would inherit my name after I died in–slept in his cradle. That child would grow to become known as Eric the Victorious, while my sisters were sent like peace-threads to be woven into the tapestries of noble houses across our lands. I hunted glory my whole short life like a starving wolf hunts prey, and in the end, it was glory that devoured me instead.

As blood pooled beneath my shattered shield and the taste of iron filled my mouth, my brothers-in-arms began gathering wood for my pyre. Their faces blurred above me while they whispered of Valhalla's golden halls. Then came a shadow with ancient eyes—Godric—who bent to my ear with an offer of eternal life as the last warmth of thirty winters fled my limbs. I opened my eyes to find not Odin's golden hall, but Godric's shadow-filled gaze. Under his tutelage, I learned our ways—how to hunt without leaving traces, how to hide from the burning sun, how to silence a beating heart with merciful swiftness. He showed me beauty in darkness until the day he met the sun. Yet, he also unveiled the beast that lurked beneath my skin, making me the monster I am today.

That night, when Godric took my last breath of life with him, the man I had been ceased to exist. No skald would ever sing of how Eiríkr Björnsson met his end in battle—only that he vanished, swallowed by darkness, while another man would come to claim my name and carve his legend into the stones of history.

The sword that struck me down deprived me of the chance to become a notable figure in my people's history, and Godric's gift denied me my deserved place in Valhalla, alongside the gods to whom I still offer my prayers.

For many years, I carried this pain and hollow absence where my human heart once beat. Those early vampire years stretched before me like an endless winter sea—vast, cold, and without horizon. Life became more manageable when I met Pam. She brought laughter into my life, gave me direction, and became my loyal partner through both endless and unpredictable times.

Then, just as I believed I had constructed an impenetrable fortress around my existence, you materialized before me. That night in Fangtasia—you in that white sundress scattered with red flowers, your smile uncertain yet your eyes blazing with a challenge that belied your delicate frame. I watched you refuse to lower your gaze when others cowered, witnessed you push against boundaries that had remained fixed for centuries. In all my millennium of nights, I had never encountered such fearlessness packaged in such vulnerability. My attention was not merely captured—it was claimed.

A millennium wandering this earth was merely preparation for knowing you, Sookie. I have endured silver burning through my body for weeks. I have been tortured, stabbed, and left to die countless deaths. Yet watching you smile at another while I stood in shadows, hearing your voice grow cold when you spoke my name, feeling your absence like a phantom limb when you vanished—these were tortures for which eternity had not equipped me.

The blood we shared allowed me to sense your distant life force—proof you existed somewhere beyond my grasp. Never in my existence had I felt such maddening constraint, such crippling inability to act. Yet paradoxically, never had I possessed such clarity of purpose: I would endure, I would remain, I would be standing exactly where you left when you returned.

Label it however you wish—I can't pinpoint the inner voice that assured me you'd return—but I held onto that promise every morning before I "die" for the day and each evening when I awoke to endure another night of waiting for you.

I would do it again if I had to, but by the gods, I hope I don't.

– E."

Sookie clutched the letter in her trembling hands, tears streaming down her face like a relentless waterfall. Her cheek pressed against the necklace with an aching tenderness that seemed to engulf her entire being. As she examined it more closely, her heart raced with awe. It was breathtakingly beautiful, an exquisite piece that seemed to pulse with its own life. How could Eric ever think she wouldn't be captivated by its allure? She could see herself adorned with only this necklace, a stunning symbol of devotion against her bare skin, wearing nothing else but its weight and meaning.

Her fingers traced the Viking Torque-style chain with reverence, her touch exploring every curve until her eyes caught a glimmer of engraved words. They were subtly etched, concealed from the casual observer, but revealed to her as if whispering a secret: Ástin mín. Her mind spun with the possibility—Swedish, perhaps? She knew Eric often slipped into that melodic language. The words seemed to wrap around her heart, binding her to him in an unbreakable bond.

She wore the necklace for the rest of the day, feeling its presence like a powerful talisman against her skin.

That evening, long after the sun had sunk below the trees, Sookie lingered in her room. She had gone over the letter three times. Then four. Then five. It now rested on her nightstand like a cherished relic. The necklace felt cool against her collarbone at first, but as time passed, it seemed to grow warmer. She moved to the mirror. The reflection she saw wasn't the Sookie Stackhouse from before. No longer was she just a hopeful waitress lacking protection. This Sookie had endured pain, sorrow, and enchantment. She had roots, she had scars, and yet — yet — she still had a heart that yearned for something beyond herself.

Chapter Text

A/N: How wonderful that you enjoyed chapter 13. I really like this chapter, especially the first part. Anya is very special and will undoubtedly remain so throughout the story. This chapter was a bit longer and felt like a lot of information all at once, so I decided to split it in two parts.

Something I wanted to mention: English is my second language, and I learned British English, which is the one I use in my daily life, but I try to write this in American English to stay true to the origins of the book and the series. For this reason, there may be some British English words mixed in. I've checked it thoroughly, but I may have missed something.

Keep leaving your reviews, it helps a lot!

Chapter 14. Anya. Part 1.

Another week slipped by like honey down a warm spoon—thick, slow, and surprisingly sweet. The days folded into each other, each one bringing a sense of calm and gentle contentment that Sookie hadn't realized she craved. She soaked in the stillness of her cozy living room, the soft rustle of leaves outside her window, and the gentle hum of everyday life that had once felt so mundane but now seemed painted with the extraordinary hues of her recent trials.

Meeting Anya, Jason's baby girl, was the unexpected balm her heart had been quietly yearning for. The afternoon Jason arrived, the sun was dipping low, casting a golden glow through the trees. He stood on the porch, Crystal by his side, both wearing forced smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes. But there, cradled in his arms, was Anya, wrapped snugly in a pale pink blanket. Her cheeks were plump and rosy, like fresh peaches ripening in the summer sun, and she seemed to radiate a gentle light that softened the world around her.

Sookie had braced herself for awkwardness, prepared to wear a polite mask in the presence of Crystal, whose relationship with Jason had always been a knot of unresolved feelings. She expected to feign excitement over meeting Anya, unsure if the tiny bundle would stir any genuine emotion within her. But all those defenses crumbled the moment Anya's wide, sage-colored eyes found hers. It was as if the baby recognized her, as though this meeting wasn't their first but perhaps their hundredth.

Sookie's breath caught in her throat as Anya stretched her chubby arms toward her, the movement filled with trust and innocence. As she gathered the baby into her embrace, a warmth flooded through her chest. It was a sensation unlike anything she'd experienced before. Not yearning for something lost, not the sharp sting of jealousy or the ache of loss, but pure, unadulterated awe.

"She's somethin' else," Sookie whispered, gently tracing a finger down Anya's impossibly soft cheek, feeling the warmth of the baby's skin.

Jason watched her, a hint of pride shining in his eyes, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. "Yeah. She's... she fixed me, I think, in a lot of ways. Broke me first, but then fixed me," he said, his voice carrying a weight of past struggles and newfound hope.

Crystal stood nearby, her smile stretched tight across her face, but her grip on Jason's hand was firm and unwavering. Sookie could see the history etched into the lines of Crystal's face, and though she didn't like Crystal — hadn't for years — she had to admit that this little girl had drawn something sacred from the tangled mess of their relationship. And if Jason seemed even a fragment more at peace because of it, Sookie decided she could count that as a small victory.

Later that evening, as she cradled Anya on her lap, gently rocking her back and forth, she listened to Jason and Crystal speaking in quiet tones on the creaky wooden porch, their words barely audible through the screen door. Sookie found herself surprised, not by the depth of love she felt for this baby girl, but by the clarity of her realization: She didn't want this for herself. Not now. Possibly not ever.

The revelation wasn't tinged with sadness. It didn't sting. It felt... honest. Like shrugging off a heavy coat she hadn't realized she was wearing just because the world insisted she should.

She had plans. Grand ones. Ideas blossoming like vivid flowers within her chest — plans for her own future, her independence. A vision for a new version of Merlotte's, maybe even her own kind of freedom.

And in the stillness after Jason and Crystal had left, with only the gentle breathing of Anya breaking the quiet, Sookie realized: for the first time in a long, long time, she was crafting a life that didn't revolve around anyone else.

Anya had been a delightful guest, awakening something within her while also providing the clearest vision of the path ahead. Although Sookie wasn't completely certain, she sensed a resonance with Anya, suggesting that a new fairy presence had arrived in the mortal realm. There was no reason to share this with anyone just now; it would remain their little secret for the time being.

Claudine arrived later that week—uninvited but always welcome—slipping through the kitchen like sunlight.

"You're glowing," she said with a gentle smile as Sookie set aside a sketch for the bar's new music corner.

"Am not," Sookie muttered, brushing hair from her forehead as her cheeks warmed.

"Are too," Claudine teased. "That baby unlocked something in you."

"She unlocked my heart, sure. But not my ovaries, if that's what you mean" Sookie shot back, and they both laughed.

That evening, they sat cross-legged on the living-room floor, candlelight flickering and fae energy glittering like starlight around them. Sookie drew in a breath, the question burning on her tongue.

"Claudine," she began hesitantly, "if I choose the fae path—embrace my bloodline, my magic—does that mean I can't be with someone like Eric?"

Claudine twisted a strand of her silver-gold hair, thoughtful. "Fae law isn't rigid like human law. It's more like natural forces—some energies repel, others align. But there's no rule forbidding you to be with him."

Sookie frowned. "But Niall—"

"Niall would be disappointed, yes" Claudine said softly but firmly. "Your lineage is Royal, incredibly rare. Few carry such potential."

Sookie swallowed. "So staying with him would waste that potential?"

"No." Claudine met her gaze. "You'd be choosing—and true choice is the greatest magic we possess. But choices have consequences. Not punishments, but costs."

Sookie let her hands rest in her lap, feeling them shimmer faintly in the candlelight. "What kind of costs?"

"Living between worlds. Never fully belonging to either," Claudine replied. "You'd straddle two realms—and it could hurt."

Sookie was quiet a long moment. "But so does being without him."

Claudine nodded. "Also—you're a princess of our Realm. It's expected that you continue our bloodline, as it was for me and my siblings."

Sookie blinked. "But you don't have children."

"No," Claudine winked. "I've been… delaying that."

Sookie's brow furrowed. "So Niall will force me to mate with a fae to preserve the line? Even if I don't want to? Even if I'm with someone else?"

"He cannot force or blackmail you," Claudine assured her. "I'm only telling you what our society expects. With or without magic, sooner or later they'd demand heirs. That said, Niall knows about Eric—and your history with vampires. Our numbers dwindle, but I honestly don't see him sacrificing your happiness or your spirit. Not while I'm around."

Sookie leaned back, the swirl of fae light around her pulsing like a heartbeat, hot and electric against her skin. Claudine's words hammered in her mind, each possibility striking like lightning. Royal bloodline. Heirs. Eric. A life straddling worlds, never fully belonging. Her fingertips tingled with power she barely understood, and for a moment, the enormity of her choices threatened to crush her chest.

The sky outside had transformed into a deep, menacing indigo by the time Sookie tore her gaze from her sketchpad. She was oblivious to the sun's descent, as it vanished behind the looming silhouettes of the trees. The air had taken on a sharp chill, with the wind slicing through the open window like a whispered warning. Dusk had descended upon Bon Temps with an eerie stillness, wrapping the town in its shadowy embrace.

Sookie checked the clock for the fifth time in an hour, then glanced at the empty porch through the window. The sun had sunk below the treeline, painting the sky in bruised purples. Twenty-three days without seeing his face. Seven days since the last gift had appeared on her doorstep.

Her fingers drummed against the kitchen counter, betraying her. She'd caught herself listening for car tires on gravel.

The knock startled her so badly she knocked over her glass of sweet tea.

"Just a minute," she called, pulse quickening as she mopped up the spill with a dishrag. She tucked her hair behind her ears, ran her palms down her jeans, and took a steadying breath before opening the door.

Instead of the courier with his pressed uniform and white box, she found herself staring at Pam.

"Oh," was all Sookie managed.

Pam's silhouette cut sharp against the porch light, her leather coat catching golden reflections. Blood-red silk peeked from beneath, probably worth more than Sookie's monthly income when waitressing at Merlotte's. Those pale eyes assessed her from beneath immaculate brows, blonde hair pulled back so severely it might have hurt anyone else. And her expression... well, it could have cut glass.

"Good evening, Sookie," Pam chimed, her tone light and amused. Her clipped English accent still bore echoes of the Southern drawl she'd long ago perfected.

Sookie's heart skipped. "Pam… what are you doing here?"

Pam arched an eyebrow. "I'm this week's gift."

Sookie blinked. "Excuse me?"

Without waiting, Pam brushed past her—heels clicking over the old floorboards. From the stairwell came a disgruntled hiss as Bob shot up toward Amelia's room.

"Well, that's rude," Pam muttered, watching him go.

Sookie closed the door, nerves tightening. "Pam, what's happening? Is Eric all right?"

Pam faced her in the living room, hand on hip, lips drawn into a thin line. Her eyes, bright yet troubled, suggested she knew more than she let on. "He's… okay. More or less," she said. "He will be—assuming he doesn't collapse under three weeks of brooding and self-sacrifice."

A pang twisted in Sookie's chest. "Where is he?"

Pam tilted her head, studying her. "You would love to know, wouldn't you? He's hiding from you. Pathetic and noble all at once—totally unlike him. He's put Thalia in charge of the Area, Felicia on paperwork, and left me to run Fangtasia while he broods in the shadows, writing you love letters like some 19th-century poet."

"I never told him to go," Sookie whispered.

Pam perched on the armrest of the couch, legs crossed with practiced ease. "True. But you broke his undead heart while completely drunk on someone else's cologne."

Sookie flinched. Pam's gaze softened. "I'm not here to lecture—well, not too much."

"Then why are you here?" Sookie asked, meeting her eyes.

Pam slipped into her coat and produced a slim, dark-green box tied with a silver ribbon. "He couldn't send a courier. He insisted someone who knows what it means deliver this."

Sookie accepted it with trembling hands, holding the package to her heart. Pam tapped it lightly. "There's a note inside. Naturally."

Sookie's breath caught. An ache bloomed in her ribs. Pam watched her for a moment, then said quietly, "He's not giving up on you. He's letting you decide if this story continues. That's the gift."

"I miss him," Sookie breathed.

Pam's lips curved in a faint, understanding smile. "Of course you do. You're no fool."

She strode to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Oh—and for the record? He's miserable without you. So if you want him, tell him. Soon. Before he burns all his shirts in poetic despair."

And just like that, she was gone.

Alone in the hush of the house, Sookie clutched the gift, her heart pounding with truths she'd barely dared whisper. The box trembled in her arms, and she wasn't sure whether to open it now… or chase after Pam and beg to go straight to him. But one thing was clear: the longing was mutual. He still wanted her.

Sookie stood in the center of her cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of her home. She clutched a box tightly to her chest, her fingers digging into the edges as though it might vanish if she let go. The box was wrapped in dark green paper that glistened in the dwindling light filtering through the lace curtains, reminiscent of sunlight playing through the canopy of a deep forest. A sleek silver ribbon encircled it, tied with such meticulous precision that it seemed almost a shame to unravel it. Yet, with a single, hesitant tug, it fell away effortlessly.

She lowered herself onto the edge of the couch, her legs feeling unsteady, and slowly opened the box, her fingers trembling with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Nestled inside was a book—a worn, leather-bound journal that exuded an air of mystery and history. Its pages were yellowed with age, and a faded ribbon marker peeked out from between them. But as she lifted the journal, the truth struck her like a bolt of lightning—it wasn't just any journal.

It was his.

The journal carried with it the distinct scent of old paper mingled with northern pine, a fragrance that was undeniably Eric. Her hand moved gently over the dark brown leather cover, which was smooth and warm as if it had absorbed his essence over time. It bore no title, only a simple embossed rune in the corner that she didn't recognize but felt drawn to. Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of emotions swirling within her.

Tucked beneath the ribbon marker was a folded note. She unfolded it with care, her heart pounding in her chest, and as her eyes scanned the page, she immediately recognized the crisp, elegant handwriting that belonged to Eric.

"Sookie,

This isn't a diary meant to hide my deepest secrets. It's not in order, nor is it tidy or boastful. I never intended to share it. Inside, you'll find fragments of my existence over the centuries. Names I've used, unspoken thoughts, and some regrets. There are memories that seemed insignificant at the time, others that have defined who I am. Both good and very, very bad things are here. I can't predict what you'll find meaningful, but I know giving this to you is tougher than any battle I've faced. You wanted parts of me, and this is one I've kept hidden for ages.

I trust you with it.

Yours,

– E"

Sookie traced the edge of the first page with her fingers, feeling a weight in her heart and a dryness in her mouth. The ink varied, faint in some spots and bold in others. She turned the pages carefully, discovering entries from centuries past. Some were in languages she didn't understand, while others were hastily jotted down in English, as if they were afterthoughts.

Near Kiev, 1240 — The Mongols ride fast, but they still leave blood behind. We followed their trail for days. Hunting has never been easier. We feed like wolves and no one noticed.

Bergen, 1278 — A priest tried to drive me away with a wooden cross. I laughed. I told him that his God held no significance for me. He prayed harder after that. I killed him slower than I meant to.

Genoa, 1348 — The plague makes feeding too easy. The sick don't scream. They just look at you, and you know they're already halfway gone and their blood still serves our purpose.

Florence, 1610 — I lied to the woman, claiming I didn't understand Greek, even though I knew it better than she did. I just wanted her to continue reading aloud. She had a beautiful voice.

Madrid, 1702 — The king's mistress looked at me as if I could undo the boredom of her life. She was right.

London, 1857 — English women are so peculiar, a little too proper for my taste.

London, 1860 — I have made a child, a companion for my lonely and eternal life. Her name is Pamela. A newborn will surely keep my mind occupied for a long time.

Bombay, 1886 — I followed the scent of cardamom through the market. Pam found me an hour later with blood on my cuffs and an offer of tea from a merchant's daughter.

New Orleans, 1924 — Jazz curled through the air like smoke, wrapping around my thoughts. The women here certainly know how to show you a good time.

Los Angeles, 1929 — Pam became obsessed with sunglasses.

She wore them at night and claimed it made mortals "deeply uncomfortable." She wasn't wrong.

Paris, 1937 — There's nothing like French women. Pam has taken to loving them with the same hunger as mine.

Berlin, 1939 — A message from Godric. War approaches and we are summoned to play our part. I've arranged passage for Pam elsewhere. She argued, but some battlefields are not for her.

1940 — The war is noisier than I anticipated, even louder than the ancient Viking horns. Yet, fear has the same scent now as it did in the snow-laden forests of the north. Only now it seems incredibly sweet to me.

Ösland, 1975 — I stood on the black sand, waves pulling at the shore. The ocean smelled the same as it had a thousand years ago. The only thing that changed was me.

She flipped forward again.

Shreveport, 2003 — Vampires have come out of their coffins, as this act of freely showing our true nature to humans has been called. I don't know what good will come of this. Mainstreaming… is not something I'm interested in.

Shreveport, 2004 — Bill's telepath was a curiosity. She did not flinch from my gaze as she demanded her own conditions, though I could hear the accelerated rhythm of her heart. Her scent filled the entire room in an intoxicating way.

Dallas, 2005 — She's something.

Shreveport, 2006 — She wore a sundress with flowers, similar to the first one. She rolled her eyes at me today. It felt like I had my chest moved again. I want to hear her laugh every night.

Her finger froze on the page, her breath caught in her throat. The ink seemed to pulse beneath her touch.

She turned each page with the care of someone handling ancient scripture. Blank sheets gave way to half-scrawled thoughts. Old poetry faded into what appeared to be kitchen instructions.

Shreveport, 2008 – I don't know what will happen with all this mess, but at least I was able to kiss her.

Bon Temps, 2008 – She's nowhere to be found. Bill is also looking for her, and I don't want him to find her first.

Shreveport, 2009 – I can't stand feeling so out of control.

New Orleans, 2010 – I'm still determined to find her. Pam won't talk to me until I come to my senses, but I know she's alive, somewhere.

Shreveport, 2011 – Vivienne and the new waitresses are a nice distraction. Pam brought them along for that reason and probably something else, but they are not her.

Bon Temps, 2012 – She's back. Gods have finally heard my pleas.

She rested her forehead against the book's edge, holding it tightly to her chest as tears welled up so quickly she could hardly breathe through them.

He had revealed his soul, piece by piece, in ink, spanning centuries. For her. It wasn't flowers. It wasn't perfume. It was a gift only an immortal could offer: Time. Memory. Truth. And love, whether or not he had yet dared to write that word. She can see the love in his words.

She wasn't sure what everything meant just yet, but one thing was as clear to her as the breath she took: she needed to talk to him soon. She sat on the floor for quite a while, holding his journal in one hand and feeling her heart beat steadily and heavily in the other, her breath quivering between her tears. She had already decided on her course of action; there was just one thing left to do.

Chapter Text

A/N: Of course, part two immediately after part one. I am an anxious person myself and understand anxiety very well.

Chapter 14. Part 2. Illumination.

Later that night, as she contemplated her next move, she approached Amelia. Amelia was standing at the counter, anxiously stirring her second cup of coffee despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. Meanwhile, Bob the cat lay curled up like a crescent on the windowsill, completely unaware of the growing tension in the room.

"I gotta do something," Sookie blurted out, shattering the silence. "I need to figure out what I truly felt. Back then. Before everything got... tangled up."

Amelia blinked and turned to face her. "You mean... with Eric?"

"I mean everything," Sookie murmured. "Before vampire blood and politics flipped my whole life upside down. I want to peel all of that away. I want to hear what my heart really said."

Amelia slowly set her mug down. "That's... not a small thing, Sook."

"I know," she replied, her voice tinged with desperation. "But I need to remember. Not just snippets. I want to see if what I feel now was always there, beneath all the chaos."

Amelia sighed, then moved to the couch to sit beside her. "There's a spell," she said cautiously. "It's not exactly time travel—it won't show you events like a movie. But it can awaken emotional echoes. Let you feel what you felt, as it truly lived inside you. But... it's incredibly difficult. And dangerous if done wrong."

Sookie turned to her, hope flickering in her weary eyes. "You can do it?"

Amelia winced. "No. I mean... maybe in five years, if I study, find a coven, and wait for a moon alignment. But not now. Not alone. I'm sorry."

The hope dimmed but didn't extinguish.

Sookie nodded firmly. "Then I'm callin' Claudine."

Amelia didn't protest. "You trust her?"

"With my life," Sookie said. Then hesitated. "And now, maybe with my heart, too."

She stood and walked out to the porch. The stars above were dense, filling the sky with cold, sparkling fire. She thumbed her phone and selected the contact that had rescued her more times than she could count.

Claudine answered on the first ring.

"Cousin," she said dryly. "I was just about to head to my brother's club. What happened now? Amelia burned down the house?"

"No," Sookie said, her voice cracking. "It's me. I... I'm so close to deciding, Claudine. About Eric. But I need one more thing before I do."

There was a pause, followed by the sound of rustling silk.

"I'm already on my way."

The air rippled and Claudine materialized on the porch, bringing with her the scent of winter pine and something ancient. Frost sparkled where the hem of her cloak brushed the wooden boards. She acknowledged Amelia with a slight bow of her head before fixing her emerald eyes on Sookie.

"Well?" One perfectly arched eyebrow rose in question.

Sookie's words tumbled out in a rush. "I need clarity. About Eric. About what I felt before vampire blood and fairy politics and Bill's manipulation tangled everything up."

Claudine studied her for a long, unblinking moment. "There might be a way," she finally murmured.

Amelia retreated to the kitchen doorway as Claudine produced a bundle wrapped in midnight-blue velvet. "I'll keep watch," the witch promised, "but this is between you two."

Claudine unwrapped a mirror edged in silver so old it had darkened to gunmetal. "My grandmother carried this from the old world. It reveals no futures, tells no lies. It simply reflects what already exists within you."

Sookie's fingertips hovered over the glass, trembling. "Even feelings I buried?"

"Especially those." Claudine's voice softened. "But you must focus your intention. This isn't divination—it's illumination."

Sookie's throat tightened. "I want to see past all the noise. If I strip away everything else—the blood bonds, the danger, the confusion—what remains in my heart for Eric?"

Claudine's expression grew solemn. "You're asking to face your truest self."

Sookie squared her shoulders. "Show me."

They ignited two candles, setting them fiercely on either side of the mirror. Claudine murmured incantations in Old Fae, her words coiling like thick smoke through the room, vibrating with an ancient power. The very air quivered with intensity, the world shrinking into a taut, electrified silence.

"Put your hand on the mirror," Claudine instructed. Sookie complied.

The surface shivered once, like a living thing capturing the light, before becoming eerily still. Slowly, an image forced itself into existence—not a scene, not exactly, but a torrent of emotions crashing over her, fragmented memories tearing at her consciousness. The curve of a wicked smirk in the night, the haunting echo of a laugh that twisted her insides with electric anticipation.

A thousand searing flashes: her heart pounding violently as Eric strode into the bar, clad in jeans that defied belief, his long hair a wild cascade, exuding an impossible confidence that drew her in like a moth to a flame. Her body, traitorous, gravitating toward the seductive pull of his voice. Dreams she had buried deep, now resurrected with brutal clarity—dreams of a tall, blond vampire cradling her through the night, long before she dared to admit her desire.

Moments she'd meticulously rewritten for self-preservation now unraveled before her eyes: the intense way he looked at her when she was vulnerable. The night she danced with death, and he bore her as if she were something holy. The fierce jealousy that ignited within her whenever he cast a smile in another's direction. The shattering despair the night she believed he was lost forever.

And beneath it all, a relentless hum of longing she had never dared to acknowledge. Tears cascaded unchecked down her cheeks. It had been there all along. Buried beneath all of Bill's deceit. Eric had always been woven into her narrative—not merely as temptation, or peril, or survival—but as a force that made her feel undeniably secure. She had been in love with him long before she allowed herself to recognize it.

Sookie gasped sharply, wrenching herself away from the mirror, her breath a ragged hitch in her throat.

Claudine seized her trembling hand, anchoring her to reality as the mirror's magic still crackled in the air between them. "Now you know," she whispered, her voice like steel wrapped in silk.

Sookie's eyes blazed, pupils dilated with the force of revelation. "I've always known," she gasped, her Southern drawl thickening with emotion. "I just couldn't bear the truth of it."

"So what happens next?" Claudine asked, leaning forward until their foreheads nearly touched, her fairy magic pulsing visibly beneath her skin.

Sookie's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I'm done waitin' and hidin'," she breathed. "I'll burn every bridge that stands between us."

Chapter Text

A/N: This chapter will probably earn me some hatred from some of you for introducing a character that I'm sure no one wants, but... I hope the ending will earn me some points back.  I couldn't wait and wanted to publish it today. I just love these two so much.

Chapter 15. The Photo.

The mirror had shown her the truth in ancient fae magic, yet Sookie didn't race to Fangtasia as her heart demanded. Night had already fallen too deep.

By the next evening, Sookie checked her phone: 4:47 PM. Thirteen minutes until sunset. Her fingertips traced the ink-stained pages of Eric's journal she'd memorized after three read-throughs today alone. Behind her, the bedroom door's lock clicked into place. She unbuttoned her blouse slowly, one pearl button at a time, then unhooked her bra. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she positioned herself against the pillows. Her hands trembled slightly as she draped the chain across her throat, adjusted the pendant to rest in the hollow between her collarbones. She held her breath, extended her arm, and pressed the camera button. On the screen: her rosy and full lips, pale skin– it wasn't tan season, white gold gleaming against flesh, shadow hinting at what lay just beyond the frame.

The message disappeared with a soft whoosh, leaving a sense of urgency in its wake.

As the clock struck six, her phone screen stayed ominously blank. Her fingers anxiously tapped the screen, and she muttered under her breath, "He should be awake by now." She double-checked the recipient, her eyes scanning the screen. "Yes, right number... still nothing."

A heavy weight of disappointment settled uneasily in her stomach. Eric was known for his habit of leaving his phone abandoned on tables and counters, but this—this particular image—should have captured his attention instantly, setting off more than just a casual glance.

Around 7 pm, Amelia's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Hey, Sook! Want to join me on a trip to Shreveport? There's a library-cum-antique bookstore I need to hit for a transportation spell. They have grimoires that predate America."

Sookie briefly thought about swinging by Fangtasia. "Sure, why not."

With the slim chance of running into Eric, she decided to dress up more than she normally would for a trip to a bookstore. She chose a black mini skirt—not too tight but enough to highlight her curves—and paired it with matching soft tights due to the chilly weather. She added the boots Eric had gifted her, a red long-sleeved V-neck blouse with subtle sheer accents, and her black coat. She applied nude lipstick, soft but intentional eye makeup, and after moisturizing her face and hands and spritzing on some perfume, she was ready to go.

"Sookie, you do realize we're just going to buy books, right?" Amelia asked as they left the house and headed to the car.

Sookie chuckled. "We're going to Shreveport. You never know how the night will turn out."

"Well, I don't know about you, sugar, but my night will end with me in bed, alone with Bob, eating cereal at 2 a.m. while watching a movie."

The little bookstore was squeezed between taller facades, its battered sign proclaiming Aurum et Umbra: Rare Tomes & Occult Curiosities in peeling gold letters.

Sookie stepped inside and felt the world tilt. Air thickened around her, redolent of cedar, old parchment, and a sharp metallic tang—like latent power waiting to be claimed. Rows of books stood on their shelves like silent sentinels, each one whispering echoes of its own past. Warm light glowed overhead, the floorboards creaked with every step, and even the shadows seemed alive.

Amelia ducked into a side aisle labeled Transmutation and Thresholds. Sookie drifted elsewhere, fingertips grazing spines as if they might murmur secrets. She wasn't searching for anything in particular, but something guided her around a corner to a low shelf beneath a plaque reading Myths and Truths. Here lay a jumble of fae lore—mostly glossy modern retellings of winged fairies, court intrigues pitched as steamy romances, fanciful moonlit dances.

Only one volume caught her breath. Its cover was soft green leather, the page edges gilded, and no title—just a single rune embossed in the center. She'd seen that rune before, sketched in Eric's journal. Her heart thudded.

She lifted the book, surprised by its weight. As she cracked it open, a mist of iron and moss and ancient rain drifted up to greet her. The script was very old, but she understood them perfectly:

"To live betwixt the realms is to dwell in two hearts. One must needs choose a tether, else risk to drift in the space between. The fae wed not, but bind. To bind with one of other kind is a rarity, not forbidden, yet fated. But once in a lifetime may a fae soul give itself wholly."

Sookie's pulse raced. Fated. Only once. Her thumb hovered over the delicate page. The text continued:

"When a fae offers their heart—be it to any creature of whatsoever kind—the bond withstands both magic and time. Yet it must be given freely, chosen by will and by soul. The cost is great, yet the reward…"

The final lines were water-blotted, indecipherable.

She closed the book with trembling fingers. Suddenly she saw why Claudine had warned her, why Niall watched so closely, why every choice felt so monumental. She'd been on the verge of choosing Eric—not merely for love, but for something far larger: a one-time cosmic vow that would bind them for eternity.

"Found my spellbook. You ready?" Amelia's voice drifted from the front of the store.

Sookie glanced down at the green tome, its rune pulsing faintly, as though glad to be held. "Not yet," she whispered, and nodded to the shopkeeper. Five hundred dollars exchanged hands. She didn't hesitate.

As the receipt was slipped between the pages, she murmured to herself, This was meant for me. The book slid into her bag as if it belonged there.

They stepped back into the cooling air, the sky deepening to purples around the streetlights. Amelia began to suggest dinner when someone's voice called from the doorway's shadow.

"Hey you."

Sookie startled. The streetlamp smoothed the harsh angles she'd seen at the club, made him look almost human—until recognition hit.

"Oh," she breathed, her heart skipping. "You're the guy from the club."

He appeared tidier now, shoulders squared, golden eyes glinting under a knowing smirk. "I wondered if you'd remember me," he said, stepping closer. "I never caught your name."

She ducked her head, cheeks warm. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse," she replied, extending her hand.

He took it firmly. "John Quinn. But call me Quinn."

A flicker passed between them—nervous energy or the echo of tequila—pulling old thoughts to the surface of her mind. Her chest tightened.

Amelia, standing behind her, narrowed her eyes. Team Eric. She stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Amelia Broadway." Her handshake was polite but unwelcoming. Quinn didn't seem to notice.

Sookie's breathing raced; her shoulders jerked; she blinked as if warding off panic. A sheen of sweat gathered at her temples and her fingers clenched the strap of her bag.

"We were just about to head out," Amelia said briskly. "Long drive back."

Unfazed, Quinn smiled. "Of course. I just wanted to say hello—see if we might run into each other again."

His words lingered like sticky perfume.

Leaning close to Sookie, Amelia whispered, "Hopefully not. For your sake."

Sookie barely heard. "Yeah… See you around"

Amelia guided her by the elbow as they turned away. Once out of sight, Sookie let out a shaky breath.

"Don't even think about that man," Amelia said softly but firmly. "You're inches from finally making things right with Eric, risking everything for him—and you almost fell back into a new mistake."

"I wasn't flirting," Sookie murmured, voice trembling. "Just being polite."

"You looked ready to dive into trouble."

Clutching her book, Sookie's voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know why I did that."

Amelia softened. "Because loving Eric is huge, and you know it'll demand sacrifices. This guy is easy—just a distraction. But right now you need conviction, not distractions. You asked Eric to commit; now you have to stand by that."

Sookie nodded, lips pressed thin. "You're right."

"I know," Amelia said.

They reached the idle traffic at the edge of Shreveport. Sookie checked her watch: 10:30 p.m. Exactly one month. Her heart lurched.

She glanced at Amelia, who looked ready to collapse onto her spellbook and sleep for days. Sookie made up her mind to use extra gas this evening by dropping Amelia at home and then driving all the way back to Shreveport alone.

Near midnight, she pulled up to the club's front entrance. The parking lot was packed—shadows of bodies flickering beneath red neon, the bass drum's thud echoing like a second heartbeat through the walls. Her breath misted in the cold air, her own heart pounded so loudly it roared in her ears. The wind carried the tang of leather, smoke, and blood.

She clenched her fists, set her jaw, steeled her heart. After all the fighting, the tears, the sleepless nights, her decision was made—and she was ready. Sookie marched forward.

A line of humans stretched half a block, fangs painted on, eyes glazed by too much fantasy. She slipped past them. The bouncer gave her a curt nod—no words needed.

Inside, Fangtasia was a fiery inferno swathed in velvet. Bodies convulsed under strobing red lights, the beat thundered like a relentless war drum, and the air was thick with the stench of sweat, unbridled lust, and blood. But it wasn't the oppressive heat or the throng of bodies, nor was it the vampires preying with their piercing eyes. It was him.

There, on the throne, sat Eric Northman: a tempest forged from Nordic fury, dipped in obsidian darkness. His black T-shirt clung to every taut muscle, and a leather jacket draped off one shoulder, sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His jeans were a second skin—taut enough to tantalize, loose enough to ignite imagination. A monarch crafted from shadows, searing heat, and a danger as ancient as time itself.

He surveyed the room with a lazy, imperious gaze, claiming ownership of everything within it. But beside him sat a woman Sookie had never seen before: a towering vampire, impossibly beautiful, with raven hair cascading like a waterfall, her lips painted the deepest crimson in a knowing, provocative smile. Her hand rested too lightly on Eric's chest—and he allowed it.

Sookie's lungs seared with betrayal. So that was why he'd ignored her message. Her legs propelled her forward before her mind could comprehend. A server paused, mouth agape, tray of drinks precariously balanced. "Miss Stackhouse?" she stammered. "Shall I alert the Mast—?"

"No," Sookie shot back with razor-edged defiance. "I'm fine, thank you." A tempest of rage enveloped Sookie as she cut through the crowd. Even the most intoxicated blood dolls instinctively parted in her wake. In her towering boots, skirt, and daring red V-neck blouse, she radiated the essence of a formidable challenger.

Eric turned his head just as she approached. The instant their eyes met, the universe skewed on its axis. He froze, caught in the moment.

The woman beside him followed his gaze, her expression shifting from confusion to sharp annoyance. Eric rose—deliberately, like molten steel flowing—and placed one hand on her shoulder: Stay.

Sookie's heart shattered and reconstructed in a heartbeat.

"Miss Stackhouse…" Eric said, his voice too calm, too controlled.

He never had the chance to finish.

"Son of a bitch." The whisper scraped her throat raw. She whirled away, her hair lashing her tear-stung eyes. Each boot-strike against the floor matched the thunder in her chest as she bolted for the exit. At her car, her trembling fingers betrayed her twice, keys clattering to the pavement before finding purchase in the ignition. The SUV's engine howled in protest as she slammed the accelerator, leaving rubber and smoke in her wake. Her palms slid against the wheel, slick with sweat, as Bon Temps beckoned—a sanctuary from the tableau that now burned permanent behind her eyelids.

Sookie's car screamed down the highway at midnight, her foot crushing the gas pedal as if it were Eric's throat beneath her heel. Her vision swam, tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks, each ragged breath torn from her lungs like she was drowning. The steering wheel shuddered under her white-knuckled grip. Two fucking days. Two days since he'd sended her his journal—blood-memories from a thousand years of darkness—and now that vampire bitch's fingers were trailing across his chest like she owned him. The taste of copper flooded her mouth; she'd bitten through her lip without noticing.

She couldn't trust him, and that was the raw, unvarnished truth. Night after night, she would lay awake, tormented by visions of him betraying her at Fangtasia, entwined with some seductive fangbanger or another vampire, certainly someone more fitting for his eternal, blood-thirsty existence. Was this the relationship she was spiraling into, a relentless descent into heartbreak and despair?

She slammed the brakes in front of her house. Tears streamed down her face in torrents, punctuating the oppressive silence around her. She felt utterly foolish, the weight of regret crushing her chest. If only she could erased that cursed photo from existence, wipe it out as if it had never been taken.

She despised him with a burning fury, loathed his very presence in her home, detested the car he had thrust upon her, abhorred the supposedly wonderful boots he had purchased as tokens, and cursed the necklace that hung like a chain of resentment around her neck. Every fiber of her being rejected him and everything he represented.

She slammed the car door so hard the window rattled, her rage a living thing clawing up her throat. She would rip Eric Northman from her life like pulling out a splinter—painful but necessary. Then she saw him. Standing on her porch, one shoulder braced against the pillar as if he couldn't support his own weight. Blood-tinged tears had left crimson tracks down his face. Her stomach lurched. Vampires didn't cry much. Not unless something was shattered inside them. "The absolute NERVE," she hissed, stalking forward with fists clenched. Five feet away, their eyes locked. The raw devastation in his gaze hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath. Something primal and undeniable surged between them, making her knees weak even as her fury burned hotter.

"Sookie, please..." His voice cracked, the thousand-year-old Viking's face contorted in anguish. "Hear me out, I beg you." Each syllable seemed torn from his throat.

Sookie brushed past him, close enough to feel the cold radiating from his skin, and dropped into a porch chair. She jerked her chin toward the opposite chair. The distance between them crackled with electricity, a live wire neither dared touch.

"Go on. I'm listenin'," Sookie spat, her tone a shard of ice. She couldn't understand why she was giving him the chance to explain himself.

Eric hesitated, then forced the words out. "She's a political observer, dispatched by Sophie-Anne. There are serious… complications in the kingdom. I was only being—polite."

"Polite?" Sookie's laugh shattered against the walls. "Is that what you call it when a woman practically crawls into your lap while you sit there looking like the damn cover of Viking GQ?"

Eric's brow quirked. He drew in a steadying breath. "I wasn't aware you cultivated legendary jealousy."

"Jealous?" Her voice cracked, half-hysteric snarl, half-scorched laugh. "You think this is about jealousy?"

He leaned forward, the air between them thick as venom. "You waltz into my club after a month of silence, after I poured out my most intimate memories—and you're furious because I sat next to another woman?"

Sookie's body trembled. "You let her touch you! You never let others touch you!" Rage erupted in her chest, recalling the flash of destructive magic in her fists weeks ago. She leapt to her feet, pacing like a caged animal, fingertips burning with that familiar, terrifying tingle.

"I didn't touch her," Eric said, incredulous, his voice low but unyielding.

"You didn't have to," she growled, eyes blazing. "She touched you. And you did nothing."

Eric rose, his height towering, eyes glowing. "I didn't encourage it, either."

"Oh, so now we're living by 'technicalities'?" Sookie's bitter laugh cut the air.

Eric's jaw clenched until the tendons in his neck stood out like cords. "You are only seeing a small part of the whole picture. Is your trust in me so fragile? You didn't respond, in any way—to the gifts, the stories, my journal. I bared my heart, Sookie, and you remained silent. What was I supposed to do? Haunt your porch like a specter every damn night?"

She flinched, hating the honesty in his words. Her chest tightened. "I sent you a photo."

He froze. "What photo? By e-mail?"

"On your cell phone—today, at sunset."

Eric's face tightened in confusion. "I never saw it. I went straight to Fangtasia after Pam called… then here." He sighed, frustrated. "What is so important about a photo?"

Sookie's eyes fell to the floor, her voice trembling with shame. "I thought—maybe it would show I was ready. But when I walked into that room, there you were, the same old Eric, so infuriatingly at ease with another woman's touch—doing exactly what you do best. I'm exhausted, Eric. I drove to Shreveport and back twice today and all this is wearing me down..."

Eric's anger flickered, then steadied. He pointed a finger at her to hush, riffling through the messages on his phone with surprising urgency. After a moment, he held up the screen between them.

"Is this the photo you sent?" he asked, voice hushed but charged, the image glowing between them like a spark in the dark.

"Well, yes," Sookie's voice caught in her throat, her pulse hammering so hard she felt dizzy. "I thought it was the best way to show you I was finally ready to—"

"Ready for what, Sookie?" Eric closed the distance between them in a blur of vampire speed, his massive frame suddenly looming over her, the cold radiating from his skin making her shiver. His scent—ancient forests of pine, the North Sea, and something dangerously metallic—flooded her senses.

Sookie's mouth went desert-dry as her gaze involuntarily traveled up the predatory lines of his body, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Every cell in her body screamed danger even as something primal inside her begged to draw closer to the flame.

"You're telling me, woman, that you accepted all my gifts? Gratefully, I assume?" His voice was sharp, demanding, as he searched her eyes for honesty. Sookie nodded, her heart pounding.

"And you got the necklace. You liked it?" His eyes wandered to her neck. His questions were relentless, piercing. Sookie nodded once more, her breath catching.

"Did you get the journal? Did you read it?" His words cut through the air like a sharp blade, demanding an answer. Sookie nodded, the pressure of his relentless questioning pressing down on her. "More times than I could count," she replied, her voice steady but carrying the weight of countless readings.

"And when you felt healed from all the unfair shit life has put on you lately and ready to..." Sookie's pulse hammered in her throat as she finished his sentence: "love you."

"Right, love me…" Eric's body went rigid. He stalked across the porch like a caged predator, knuckles white, fangs partially descended. His finger pressed against his mouth as if physically holding back words that might shatter them both. "Love me" The laugh that tore from his chest was raw, almost feral. Sookie's skin prickled with electricity—she'd never seen the ancient vampire this undone.

"And be yours…" Sookie whispered, her voice dropping to something primal.

"And be mine, completely, irrevocably..." Eric froze mid-stride, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made her thighs clench involuntarily. "So when you realized this," he growled, each word vibrating with barely controlled hunger, "you stripped naked, wore nothing but my necklace around your throat, and sent photographic evidence of your submission?"

"Somethin' like that?" Sookie whispered, her Southern drawl thick with desire. Her pulse hammered against her throat where his necklace lay.

"Yes or no?" Eric's voice was barely human, a thousand-year-old predator's growl. His fingers dug into her shoulders, not enough to bruise but enough to brand. "Answer me, Sookie. You're tearing me apart."

"Isn't it GODDAMN OBVIOUS, Eric?" The words tore from her throat like shrapnel, her finger stabbing the phone screen so hard it nearly cracked. Her whole body shook, teeth bared, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "I'm DROWNING in a fucking PTSD and trust issues, and the SECOND—the very FUCKING second I finally decide to give you my heart—" Her voice broke, raw and feral. "I find you with that blood-sucking WHORE crawling all over you like–"

A sound ripped from Eric's chest—half snarl, half moan. He crushed the distance between them in a blur, slamming her against the wall. His massive hands framed her face, thumbs pressing against her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze burning electric blue.

"What. Do. You. Want." Each word fell like a hammer blow, his fangs fully descended now, voice raw with centuries of hunger.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to shatter them. She knew the three words that would unleash him completely. She had no other option but to tell them.

"I want you."

Chapter Text

A/N: Warning: LEMONS. Content only suitable for adults.

CHAPTER 16. THE PHOTO. Recap.

"What. Do. You. Want." Each word fell like a hammer blow, his fangs fully descended now, voice raw with centuries of hunger.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to shatter them. She knew the three words that would unleash him completely. She had no other option but to tell them.

"I want you."

CHAPTER 17. MINE

His eyes slammed shut as a millennium of iron restraint atomized between them. He crashed against her mouth, his tongue forcefully exploring it, entwining with hers in an erotic dance. The doorframe splintered against her spine, wood cracking beneath supernatural force. She felt consumed by his body – cold marble suddenly turning hot against every inch of her exposed skin. Sookie's legs locked around his waist tightly, her nails digging into his immortal flesh, drawing blood – his blood – coating her fingertips as she sought to satisfy the feral hunger that threatened to consume them both. When she gasped for air, black spots appearing in front of her eyes, he growled against her throat, fangs puncturing the first layer of skin. "Eric—" she gasped, tasting copper.

"Silence." The word vibrated directly against her carotid artery, his voice stripped of anything remotely human, ancient and predatory. "One more sound and I take you here. Now. Against this wall." His hand crushed the doorknob, wood and metal crumbling beneath his grip.

A thousand years of desire exploded in this moment—Eric's legendary control shattered like glass. He gripped her thighs tightly, fingers leaving crescent-shaped indentations in her flesh as he carried her upstairs with three inhuman strides. He threw her onto the mattress with such force that the bed frame cracked against the wall. The door slammed shut behind him, lock splintering under his grip. He stood there, marble-still yet vibrating with barely contained violence, his chest heaving with ragged breaths born of desire rather than necessity. His eyes burned electric blue, pupils blown wide with hunger that transcended mere lust.

"That skirt," he snarled, voice dropping to a frequency that made her marrow tremble. "My boots on your legs." His nostrils flared wide, drawing her scent in so violently Sookie felt it tear from her pores. This wasn't hunting—this was consumption, possession, his thousand-year-old predator breaking its chains after years of restraint.

He fell upon her like a storm, one hand pinning both wrists above her head while the other traveled up her thigh, nails leaving red lines as they reached the edge of her skirt. The fabric surrendered with a sharp tear.

"Clothes," he hissed against her throat, fangs scraping skin, "are an offense." His boots hit the floor with twin thuds that shook the nightstand. His free hand tore at her blouse—buttons scattered like shrapnel across the room, exposing black lace that barely contained her full chest.

"You wore this," he growled, stepping back a little to appreciate the view, with a voice cracking with something between fury and worship, "for me?"

"Yes," she gasped, arching against his restraint.

"Mine," he snarled, the word more animal than language.

Eric's fingers knotted in Sookie's hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat while his other hand ripped her bra off with a savage yank. His mouth descended on her breast, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before his tongue soothed the sting. She gasped as his cold fingers traced every inch of her—back, shoulders, ribs—leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached her neck, his entire body went rigid. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent; pupils dilating until only a thin ring of electric blue remained. The pad of his thumb pressed against her carotid artery, counting each frantic pulse like a metronome counting down to surrender. The necklace – his claim – glinted against her flushed skin.

"You bear one of my marks," he snarled, voice a deep, feral rumble from some primeval chasm. His lips ghosted over her pulse, fangs grazing that tender skin—sharp enough to thrill without drawing blood. Every muscle in his jaw trembled under the strain of restraint.

A shudder ran up Sookie's spine, her body arching toward him as though drawn by an irresistible force. Nerve endings exploded, demanding contact, release—anything. Pleasure and pain collided in a searing white-hot blaze that obliterated thought. She was nothing but sensation, a raw nerve laid bare.

Soft moans slipped from her lips when Eric's fingers brushed her taut nipples, sending sparks racing through her. "Louder, Sookie," he growled. "Moan for me, lover." His tongue traced a scorching path along her throat, marking her with heat and hunger. She answered him, voice trembling.

With deliberate slowness, his hands removed her skirt. "Wait—why am I the only one naked?" she gasped. Eric cast off his shirt, baring his torso, but left his pants in place. His now dark eyes bored into hers, losing their playful gleam, turning solemn. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

Now or never, she thought, inhaled deep, and met his gaze. "Yes," she whispered, the single word steadfast. It was a yes not only to the moment that was happening; she trusted him, completely.

Driven by a fierce need to claim her, he knelt and lifted her legs, settling them onto his broad shoulders until her hips teetered at the bed's edge. This moment had been his obsession: every angle, every scenario, his fantasies painting her under moonlight or rain, in kitchens and cars, bedrooms and gardens—always hers to possess.

He cupped her breasts with both hands, thumbs circling her hardened nipples as though savoring them for the first time. One palm roamed lower, fingertips gliding along her belly before dipping between her thighs in search of the perfect entry.

Tenderly at first, he traced a delicate pattern across her most delicate place—gentle strokes, soft pressure, teasing licks of finger and flesh. Then he pressed harder, rolling and rubbing in a rhythmic tempo that sent shockwaves through her core. Sookie's moans swelled into cries as her body trembled on the brink. Each tantalizing pause, each renewed surge of motion, stoked the flames inside her until she was consumed by a blistering, all-encompassing fire. And in the swirl of sensation, a whispered thought brushed her mind: Ah. This is right.

Eric ground his finger harder against her swollen nub, then thrust one other slick digit into her hot, trembling channel. Her juices flooded around him—warm proof of her need. He matched the pulse of his thumb's circles to the thrust of his finger, each precise stroke driving her closer to the edge. Sookie's breath hitched; she knew she'd shatter into bliss the moment he slipped a second finger inside, stretching and probing until he hit that secret place she'd only ever fantasized about.

Without warning, Eric halted and released a low, frosty sigh, as he took out his fingers. Sookie lurched, suspended in mid-climax, her body quivering in aching want. Then he leaned down and pressed his tongue to her entrance, flicking it over every hidden fold, dragging wet heat into her core. His saliva pooled in the hollows of her labia as he explored, his breath cold on her hot skin. When his tongue retreated, Sookie groaned in frustrated need.

Eric's lips curved into a predator's smile. "Look at me, Sookie," he murmured. She blinked open her eyes and met his blue gaze—intense, commanding. What is he doing to me?

For a flicker of a second she remembered who else was in the house, just downstairs. She propped herself on trembling elbows; he flattened her back with a firm palm.

"Eric, we need to stop, Amelia…" she whispered, voice rough.

His smile deepened. "Too late for that, lover. I don't give a fuck if the Witch hears how I make my woman scream my name".

Sookie's protest dissolved into a raw moan as she surrendered—laid her head back on the bed, wrists braced against the sheets, eyes locked on his. Eric repositioned himself, regret flickering for the seconds they'd lost. Then, without breaking eye contact, he plunged his tongue deep into her center again—slow, authoritative—digging and claiming every inch as his own. He curled it, pressed it, dragged it through the labyrinth of her folds, simultaneously sucking at the sweet wellspring of her passion, drawing out her essence like the most exquisite vintage.

What wouldn't he give to live forever drinking this elixir—her taste, her scent, her surrender—night after night.

Sookie's moan erupted, crashing against the bedroom walls like a thunderclap. Her fingers clawed at the pillows with wild desperation as waves of pleasure thundered through her ribs. Her eyes clenched shut, fighting to capture every heartbeat of ecstasy. But Eric's voice sliced through her delirium, dark and commanding: "Open your eyes. Look at me while I make you come."

Sookie's cries pierced the air, each gasp and groan a tribute to his relentless mastery, until she shattered, body arching, voice breaking, consumed by the raw intensity of his fierce, unyielding devotion.

Sookie struggled to hold Eric's gaze, her vision blurring with the sheer force of her pleasure. Frustration and fury of not having him inside her, intertwined and she flung pillows and cushions aside in a frenzy. Eric, observing her wild abandon, couldn't help but grin wickedly.

As Eric drove her to the brink of oblivion, tingling fire ignited in her palms. With nothing left to clutch, she seized Eric's hair, pulling him closer as he pressed harder and harder. "AAH, fuck, Eric... PLEASE DON'T STOP!" she screamed, her voice raw with need.

Eric reveled in seeing Sookie in this primal state, a vision more vivid than any he had imagined. He intensified his rhythm, both inside and out, until his tongue felt Sookie's walls grip tighter, juicier, squeezing with ferocious intensity. Her legs tensed, bracing for the electric storm about to engulf her.

With one final thrust against that secret spot inside her and a searing massage, she erupted, her cries echoing with unrestrained ecstasy. And n one could doubt that Sookie had been claimed by the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life.

Eric lingered within her for precious seconds, savoring every exquisite drop as she rode the aftershocks, her body trembling with the remnants of her tempest.

When he finally resolved to leave, he wrenched her legs from his shoulders and repositioned her whole body gently onto the bed. He enveloped her with his own, consuming the taste of her lips with fervor, dragging her roughly closer, his hand gripping her back with relentless strength, lifting her slightly to merge the intoxicating flavor of his mouth with hers.

"So, I ask you again, Sookie Stackhouse, what do you want from me?" he demanded, his gaze piercing through her soul. Sookie inhaled sharply, pressing her forehead against his, her hand fiercely cupping his cheek with a desperate intensity.

"I want to be yours, Eric Northman," she exhaled, her words a raw, defiant challenge hanging heavily in the air.

Eric needed no further incitement; his pants and boxers had already vanished, and his cock surged forward eagerly, unleashed and eager. This time, Sookie remained, her eyes locked on him, her mind a whirlwind of anticipation, ready to meet Eric's formidable expectations and his impressive... magnitude.

Eric slid a finger inside her, then brought it to his lips, his eyes ablaze with devouring hunger. "Ah, so ready for me, lover," he snarled.

Sookie unleashed a primal growl, baring her teeth, demanding an end to this torturous ecstasy. Without a moment's hesitation, Eric plunged his cock into her, discarding all gentleness, consumed by the ferocity of their passion, while Sookie wrapped her legs around his hips.

Eric began to fuck her with a fervor that defied divinity. He had been playing the relentless game of catching the fairy and claiming her, and he was triumphing. Eric accelerated his pace, fueled by the consequence of waiting so long for her. He needed her now, urgently, wholly. He was claiming her, branding her with his essence, inside and out. Sookie would wear only one man's scent: his.

Eric's thrusts grew more intense and unwavering, delving into Sookie, striving to reach the depths his length would permit, causing Sookie's breasts to bounce with such synchronized perfection that it propelled him headlong towards his own climax.

"Fuck, Sookie, I can't hold it..." Eric growled through gritted teeth, his left elbow digging into the side of her as he fought for control, his other arm bracing against the other side, every muscle straining with the effort. The bed groaned ominously under the pressure Eric exerted, threatening to shatter. "I can't, Sookie, you..." His voice cracked, teetering on the edge of madness. His left hand was now caressing her face.

Sookie, as her moans escalated into a crescendo, seized her neck with a fierce urgency. "Bite me, Eric, bite me, drink me," she commanded, her eyes ablaze with a reckless desire.

Eric shook his head, a very well-thought refusal, and in a whirlwind of speed and focus, he unleashed everything, breaking her. And in that fiery moment, he alongside with her. Sookie convulsed, screaming his name—another fantasy realized—as she collapsed, throwing her head back. Eric erupted within her, his fangs fully extended, her walls clutching and demanding every drop of him, wrenching him through the throes of ecstasy. He roared, his eyes squeezed shut, lips taut with the ferocity of it all.

They lingered in the aftermath, a tangled fusion of limbs and shared breaths, unwilling to sever the intense comfort of their union, for a few minutes, until Eric slid away from her body, and Sookie pushed herself upright against the headboard. He reached for the pillows that had landed halfway across the room. "Your enthusiasm is flattering, lover" he murmured, lips curving into that familiar half-smile as he rebuilt their nest of bedding.

The cool sheets brushed against his skin as he settled down beside her, leaning on his left elbow and wrapping his right arm around her waist. The fingers of his hand traced a path from her breasts to her navel. He paused there, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled her scent. The hunger that stirred in him now was different—sharper, more primal. But it would have to wait; there were words that needed saying first.

Chapter Text

A/N: Life has been a bit busy lately, and I was only able to make progress on chapters over the weekend. This chapter is short, but I don't consider it filler, because Eric and Sookie discuss important things about their new relationship. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 17 Recap.

The cool sheets brushed against his skin as he settled down beside her, leaning on his left elbow and wrapping his right arm around her waist. The fingers of his hand traced a path from her breasts to her navel. He paused there, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled her scent. The hunger that stirred in him now was different—sharper, more primal. But it would have to wait; there were words that needed saying first.

Chapter 18. Terms

Sookie shifted beneath the cool sheets, turning until her gaze locked onto his. Her breath caught with fierce intent. "Eric, I meant what I said. I want to be yours," she whispered, voice trembling with something raw and urgent.

He met her eyes with a surge of warmth that lit every nerve ending in her body. She hated possessive labels, but in his world they held weight. He reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his gaze.

"But—" she began, fingers twisting the linen.

"Of course my fairy comes with stipulations," Eric said, that trademark half-smile curving his lips. "Tell me."

Her heart pounded so fiercely she could almost feel it in her throat. "About us, what we are to each other now."

Eric's cool fingertips brushed along her jaw, tilting her face until her eyes met his. "I'm listening."

She drew in a shuddering breath. "Vampires have…different standards. But I need this to be real. Official. Just you and me—nobody else."

"Exclusivity, of course" he repeated, calm but with a flicker of something fierce in his blue eyes. "No other women in my bed."

She swallowed hard, her fingers drifting lightly to her throat. "Or feeding from anyone else, if you can help it. Would I… be enough to sustain you?"

Eric's palm cupped her cheek; his thumb ghosted over her lower lip as if tasting her. "Sookie," he breathed, voice deepening until it thrummed in her veins, "you are all I have hungered for many years. You are more than enough, in every way"

A tremor of relief—and something hotter—spread through her. Yet one question burned unasked until now. "So why didn't you drink from me today?"

He shifted onto his back, one arm propping him up like a statue carved from night. For a moment he stared at the ceiling, exhaling deliberately. Then he turned, gaze locking onto hers with the weight of a vow. "I have my own terms, lover. Exclusivity goes both ways. I would have asked for it myself if you hadn't done so first. I don't want you as a human pet—I want you beside me. My partner."

Warmth unfurled in Sookie's chest, thrilling.

"When I feed from you," Eric continued, voice dropping to a velvet growl, "I will expect you take my blood as well. It will strengthen you, heal you when I'm… less than gentle." His eyes dipped to the purpling shadows forming on her inner thighs.

Her pulse leapt. She propped herself on one elbow, matching his gaze. "I can handle that. What else aren't you telling me?"

He sighed, unable—or unwilling—to break his stare. "We've shared blood twice, Sookie. A third time binds us permanently. You'll feel every surge of my emotions. It could be overwhelming. I won't rush you into that, nor trap you in a bond you might regret."

Her mind whirled through each high and low they had endured together, every instance where his presence had profoundly reshaped her world. She recognized a deep yearning for that connection—craving him with an intensity that was as chaotic as it was breathtaking. The memories of their shared experiences played like a vivid tapestry of emotions, weaving a story of longing and fulfillment.

Before she could reply, Eric pressed on. "You have asked to make this…official. In vampire terms there is something deeper than the permanent bond. A pledge—an eternal vow, much like human marriage, but far more binding."

Marriage. Eric Northman wanted to marry her. The word exploded in Sookie's mind like a supernova, her pulse hammering so violently she could taste it. A thousand years of his existence colliding with her mortality—blood and eternity and possession. Her fingers dug into the sheets as lightning seemed to crackle beneath her skin. The enormity of it should have crushed her, yet instead she felt herself expanding, burning with a conviction that scorched away all doubt.

"I'm not asking for that at this moment," Eric said, his voice gentler yet equally passionate. "But understand this: I see that future for us. I've realized I can't cope with life without you."

A slow, deliberate smile tugged at her lips, a fierce and unwavering affection blazing in her eyes like a firestorm. "Eric Northman, if you dare plan to ask me to be your pledged—or your wife—you'd better have a proposal that shakes the heavens ready when the time comes."

His half-smile blossomed into something more feral, more adoring, and Sookie knew there was no turning back.

"Stop that," Sookie whispered, her voice hitching as his gaze scorched through her defenses. "The sun will rise soon, and I refuse to watch you burn." Her fingertips quivered against the cool expanse of his chest, undermining her attempt at firmness. "I need you to understand something. Complete fidelity—no exceptions—both physically and... nutritionally. Only life-threatening situations get a pass. And Eric—" her nails pressed half-moons into his alabaster flesh "—feed from other women only if absolutely necessary. The thought alone…" She couldn't finish.

Eric's fangs slid down involuntarily at the intensity of her possessiveness, sharp and gleaming in the dim light. The vow that emerged was low and resonant, almost like a growl reverberating from deep within his chest: "Your blood has ruined me for all others anyway." His tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along the tender curve of her neck, savoring the warmth beneath her skin. "The memory of you," he continued, his voice a hushed murmur laden with yearning, "haunts every cell in my body. There is no other taste I crave."

"More," she demanded, gripping his wrist. "I need more promises."

His hand slid up her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Name them."

"Complete honesty." Her fingers dug into his forearm, leaving white half-moons against his pale skin. "I've been lied to, manipulated, kept in the dark. Never again. I want every ugly truth, every blood-soaked detail. Don't you dare shield me from your world." She leaned closer, the scent of her blood pulsing beneath skin that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. "I'm not fragile, Eric. I'm not mere human anymore."

"I can see that, Sookie Stackhouse." His voice dropped to that register that made her bones vibrate. His eyes tracked something luminous beneath her skin that hadn't been there five years ago. "You are a whole different and magnificent creature now."

He leaned in, cold breath stirring the hairs at her temple, and brushed his lips against hers. The last moonlight pooled on the silken sheets around them, pale and quivering. "Is that all, lover?" he murmured, voice low as velvet.

"For now," Sookie whispered back, blinking up at him. She reached a trembling hand to his chest. "I just want to know…while I'm deciding about the third blood exchange, you can't drink from me, can you?"

His smile was slow, predatory yet tender. He traced a cool fingertip down her cheek, fingertips like polished marble against her flushed skin. "I can," he admitted, "but not today." His thumb brushed the line of her jaw. Sookie's heart stuttered—had she offended him somehow? Her mouth fell open in a worried frown. Eric's ice blue eyes softened. "Nothing is wrong, lover, do not worry. It's just that if I drink now, I'll want far more than simple nutrients—and, as you said, dawn edges closer."

She sat up, blanket rustling around her thighs. "Are you leaving already?"

He shook his head, hair falling over one blond brow.

"No. I'll stay here—in my secret cubby." He slid from the mattress, the sheets sighing in his wake, and winked. Sookie's pulse hammered. Vampires guarded their refuges fiercely.

"Seriously, where is it?"

"Follow me." His hand, cool and firm, squeezed hers and Sookie rushed to grab her robe. He led her down the hallway of her own home—as if these walls echoed his footsteps as easily as hers—past framed photographs and sconces. On the first floor they paused before an unassuming closet door. Eric nudged aside dusty cardboard boxes—old Stackhouse mementos, family heirlooms—until he revealed a narrow panel that slid open on silent tracks, exposing a steep staircase.

He bowed his head slightly, a courtly invitation. "Do me the honor?"

Sookie swallowed, heart drumming with excitement. She nodded, and they descended into darkness.

At the bottom, a low glow bloomed from concealed fixtures, illuminating a sanctum of Scandinavian restraint: pale walnut floors, walls painted a cool dove gray, and nothing superfluous. A double bed, its frame sculpted from bleached wood, stood centered beneath a skylight. The linens were crisp, as white as fresh snow, tucked with mathematical precision. On each side, slender nightstands bore minimalist lamps whose soft light seemed to breathe. A corner closet held only the bare essentials: a spare set of clothes, toiletries, a single wooden chest.

Sookie's gaze darted from the serene order to Eric, half-expecting some grand luxury—but this was him: elegant in simplicity. Did he imagine her here with him? She wondered, heart swelling.

"I see you've truly made my house your home while I was away," he teased, stepping closer. The air carried a faint scent of pine and wood, his cologne lingering on every surface.

He offered her a slow smile. "It's just for emergencies. Will you stay with me until sunrise?"

Her fingers curled around his. "Of course." She brushed her palm across the back of his hand—soft knuckles, cool skin. Eric, clad only in dark boxer shorts, slipped under the blankets. The sheets welcomed him like a cool whisper. Sookie eased in beside him, the mattress dipping under their joined weight.

They lay face to face, his blue eyes locked with hers until they fluttered closed as dawn crept across the sky. Sookie watched the stillness claim him, until he lay as motionless as marble beside her. The weight of his trust pressed against her chest. Here was Eric Northman—ancient, lethal, feared throughout the supernatural world—allowing her to witness his daily death, sharing the secret sanctuary that kept him safe when he was most defenseless.

Eric hadn't verbalized it yet, but his actions spoke volumes, a bold and loud declaration of love. And, for the first time in a long while, Sookie felt her heart swell and warm at the sight of the man who now lay before her, dead for the day.

Chapter Text

A/N: A second chapter fresh out of the oven.

Chapter 18. Recap.

Eric hadn't verbalized it yet, but his actions spoke volumes, a bold and loud declaration of love. And, for the first time in a long while, Sookie felt her heart swell and warm at the sight of the man who now lay before her, dead for the day.

Chapter 19. Anticipation

Sookie stirred awake a few hours later. She glanced over at Eric, who was in the same position in which he had closed his eyes a some hours earlier. His stillness was reassuring, and she gently re-arranged the sheets over him, careful not to disturb his rest. Silently, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room, even though she knew Eric would never hear her. The sliding door to the floor was positioned just so, and she cautiously closed it, using a stack of boxes to obscure it from view.

Emerging from the closet, Sookie padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. It was 11 a.m. She imagined Amelia would be deep into her morning routine by now. As she entered the kitchen, her intuition proved correct. Amelia sat comfortably at the table, cradling a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Her eyes skimmed the glossy pages of a magazine, and Bob, their fluffy feline companion, purred contentedly in her lap. The scene was one of serene domesticity, a peaceful contrast to the secret hidden just a room away.

"Look who's up! I was curious where the Viking whisked you off to last night, especially after you finally let the rest of us poor souls get some sleep," Amelia teased, causing Sookie to blush.

"Let's not go there," Sookie replied, pouring herself a coffee.

"Oh, come on! Just a little hint?" Amelia insisted with a playful pout.

Sookie chuckled. "It was a wonderful night, that's all I'm saying."

"I could tell that from the noises, Sookie. Give me something I couldn't guess on my own."

"That's enough, Amelia!" Sookie said, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Fine, keep your secrets," Amelia said, rolling her eyes. "But at least tell me where you two stand now."

Sookie ran her finger around the edge of her mug. "We've reached an agreement. It's tricky when one of you is, you know, a thousand-year-old vampire. I suppose I should refer to him as my... boyfriend?"

"Girl, I'd be at the courthouse yesterday. If what I heard through those walls is any indication of what he can do, I'd be shopping for white dresses faster than you can say 'eternal commitment'."

"Amelia ain't wrong," Sookie thought, her cheeks warming at the memory. Last night with Eric had been a revelation—his fingers finding places she hadn't known could feel that way, his body moving with a confidence that made her forget her own name. A thousand years of sex had its advantages.

A sudden image flashed in her mind: Eric's hands on another woman's skin, his mouth... She gripped her coffee mug tighter, surprised by the sharp twist in her stomach. This possessiveness was new. When had simple attraction transformed into something that made her want to mark him as exclusively hers?

Even with Bill, she'd never felt this territorial. Sure, she'd experienced twinges of jealousy before—the occasional flare when another woman looked too long at her man—but this was different. This was primal. Her mind conjured images of Eric with faceless women from his past, and her blood burned hot enough to scald. The worst part? He'd been nothing but devoted. These phantom rivals existed only in her imagination, yet she'd snapped at him twice already for crimes he hadn't committed.

"Earth to Sookie," Amelia said, waving her hand in front of Sookie's face. "You can figure out what to call him later. I'm just happy you're not moping around the house anymore. That month of you sighing into your cereal was getting old."

"Yeah, I guess I am relieved" Sookie said, unable to hide her smile.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Got plans for today? Besides daydreaming about your Viking?"

Sookie glanced at the kitchen clock, calculating the hours until sunset. Late November in Louisiana meant early darkness—and Eric rising sooner.

"Sam's contractors are supposed to be finishing the east wall at Merlotte's. I should check on them—haven't been by in days." She sipped her coffee. "Thought I might grab lunch with Tara and Lafayette too. You in?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Amelia grinned. "Lafayette's energy always makes my spells sharper for days."

"Give me thirty minutes to shower." Sookie hurried down the hall, shivering as a draft caught her. Through her bedroom window, gray clouds threatened sleet. She pulled a thick sweater from her drawer, mentally adding another layer to her planned outfit.

Amelia sat in the car, waiting for Sookie to pop into the old Merlotte's and make sure everything was running smoothly. Under her agreement with Sam—who was running the new Merlotte's at Baton Rouge—he couldn't always oversee the renovated original, so Sookie would manage it. Fifty percent was officially hers anyway, and she couldn't have been happier. Losing five years of her life had brought a few unexpected blessings: fairy-stamped family money at her disposal, a fresh chapter in her career, and, most intoxicatingly, Eric…

She couldn't get him out of her head. No matter how she tried to distract herself, her thoughts always circled back to that addictive vampire.

She'd just texted Tara and Lafayette, and they'd agreed to meet at Lala's food truck. After watching her pine for Eric all month, they'd be thrilled her misery was finally over. Then she messaged Sam: "Everything's going well; I'll stop by again after lunch, before they close for the day." With that, she drove off toward Lafayette's spot.

–––––

"What?! She did WHAT?!" Tara exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise, while Amelia just grinned. Sookie was busy at the condiment bar, while the others at the table were already buzzing with comments about Amelia's version of last night's events.

"Just as I said," Amelia laughed. "I really want to find a spell that blocks out sound."

"You could always conjure one yourself," Lafayette teased, taking a bite of his lunch.

Sookie slid onto the bench. Tara stared. "Now I know where that smile's been coming from."

"You told them?!" Sookie shot Amelia a look. "Amelia…"

Amelia pressed her lips together.

"Ugh," Sookie groaned. "Anyway—yes, I'm incredibly happy."

"Cut the chatter and give us your version, hooka" Lafayette demanded.

So Sookie recapped everything—from the bookstore to this morning—skipping only the bit about Eric resting under her house.

"Crazy that you ran into that club guy, right? He must be local," Tara said.

"Totally caught me off guard," Sookie admitted.

"Off guard enough that I had to step in before she made a disastrous decision," Amelia added.

"You didn't tell the Viking, did you?" Lala asked.

"Should I? It was nothing…" Sookie paused, knowing that if she felt jealous over imaginary situations, Eric's reaction would be far more intense. "I don't want to create doubt now that we're just starting to build trust."

"Honesty is what forges trust," Amelia replied.

"But what good would it do?" Tara pressed. "You're not planning to keep seeing Quinn, are you?"

"Of course not!" Sookie said firmly. "But what if I bump into him again—and this time Eric's with me?"

"He's not going to like that one bit," Lafayette said with a grin.

Sookie pushed her food around her plate, weighing her options.

Tara shook her head. "All telling him does is plant doubt where there shouldn't be any."

Amelia leaned forward, her voice earnest. "But relationships need transparency from day one." Lafayette's laugh cut through their debate.

"Hooka, I'd sell tickets to watch that Viking go full caveman," Lafayette said, waving his napkin like a fan. "Remember when he broke that frat boy's wrist just for winking at you across Fangtasia? And you were with Bill at that time!"

Sookie traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip. "Maybe it's entertaining from the sidelines, Lala, but I'm the one who has to have that conversation." She'd made Eric promise total honesty; she owed him the same. She just prayed his Viking temper wouldn't overshadow his Viking reason.

The conversation drifted to happier topics as Tara announced her wedding date.

"December 27th," she said, reaching for her water. "Figured I better lock it down before you time-travel again or whatever."

Sookie laughed, surprised at how she could now find humor in her lost years.

"Four weeks?" Amelia's eyes widened. "How will you possibly pull together a wedding that fast?"

Tara shrugged. "Nothing fancy. Just the people we love, good food, better music." She smirked at Amelia's horrified expression. Amelia's jaw had literally dropped, her perfectly manicured hand frozen mid-air with her water glass. The witch had attended at least three society weddings in the Garden District last summer, each featuring ice sculptures and string quartets. Since moving in with Sookie and officially joining their little group, she has been sharing endless tales of champagne fountains and custom-monogrammed everything.

"Speaking of weddings, what's the vampire version of marriage?" Tara asked, stirring her straw through melting ice.

Sookie's water went down the wrong pipe. She coughed, eyes watering, as Amelia patted her back.

"Damn, hookah," Lafayette drawled, "they ain't even been official twenty-four hours and you already planning the reception."

Sookie dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "It's not that. Eric actually explained some of their... bonding rituals." She traced a water ring on the table, avoiding their curious stares. "Vampires don't exactly have marriage, but they have something more binding. Something permanent."

"Like eternal permanent?" Amelia leaned forward.

"Exactly like that." Sookie nodded. "Though I doubt Eric's considered a human ceremony too. It's not even legal for vampires/humans here yet"

"But would you want that?" Tara pressed. "The white dress, the whole thing?"

Sookie's pulse quickened. "I just want normal for a while—dinner dates, movies, all that stuff. Before I dive into centuries-long commitments."

"What about fairy customs?" Lafayette's fingers danced in the air like he was casting a spell. "They got some kinda eternal love binding too?"

"According to Claudine, fairies mate for life. Once chosen, there's no going back."

Lafayette pressed a hand to his chest. "Damn, girl. Human, vampire, fairy—you're gonna need three ceremonies."

"No matter which tradition you follow, you'll be stunning," Tara said, squeezing Sookie's hand.

Amelia snorted into her drink. "Please. Eric Northman wouldn't do subtle. He'd rent out the biggest castle he could fin in Louisiana."

Sookie noticed she was already starting to sweat from the conversation. Her head spun with the thought of her fresh relationship with Eric, not even a day old, progressing so quickly. She understood this was typical; the supernatural world operated at a different speed and intensity. She realized that she wouldn't have a years-long courtship before possibly getting married, and that might not even happen in a church. Lala was right; there might even be at least two different ceremonies.

But Sookie also knew something else: this time around, she'd be the one setting the pace. No more rushing headlong into supernatural chaos or dancing to someone else's tune. She'd savor each moment of this new chapter, she would put Eric's patience at test once more.

The group dispersed as afternoon shadows lengthened—Lafayette heading back for his afternoon shift, Tara returning to mind her store, and Amelia off to downtown for errands and supplies for Bob before cabbing it home. Sookie made a quick stop at old Merlotte's to check things over before finally turning her car toward home. The dashboard clock read 3.30 pm. Ninety minutes until Eric would stir beneath her house. She attacked the first floor with a dust cloth and vacuum, but every swipe and hum failed to drown out her anticipation of the moment he'd emerge from that hidden space, his cool hands finding her waist, his mouth on hers like they'd been separated for days instead of mere hours.

When she decided that enough was enough, there were still 30 minutes left before sunset. The bathroom tiles felt cool beneath her bare feet as she ran to take a shower, selecting her vanilla-honey body wash and lavender shampoo so she could wait for Eric wrapped in scents that made his nostrils flare and his eyes darken.

She was rinsing the last suds of shampoo from her hair, warm water cascading down her back, when the shower curtain rings scraped against the rod with a metallic hiss. Eric stepped in beside her, water droplets instantly beading on his marble-pale skin, his eyes completely black—not just the pupils, but the irises too, consumed by hunger.

"What the hell..." Sookie gasped, her voice ricocheting off the cold tiles, just before Eric's powerful hands latched onto her waist, his fingers stretching around her like talons. He thrust her against the slick wall with a force that sent a jolt through her heated skin, claiming her mouth with a voracity that eclipsed even the night before. His grip engulfed her wrists in a single, unyielding hand, stretching her arms upward, pinning them above her drenched hair as Sookie's breath escaped in ragged, desperate moans. Steam enveloped them as Eric's fervent attentions journeyed south, his tongue tracing the water streams down her collarbone, exploring her frantically beating pulse in the hollow of her neck. There, his fangs—razor-sharp and gleaming—slid over her goosebump-covered skin. When he finally pulled back, droplets clung to his lip, and he looked at her with an intensity that pierced her very soul, silently demanding the permission his ancient existence sought but that his predatory nature craved beyond reason.

"Go ahead..." Sookie whispered, her voice a mere breath, as she turned her neck away, squeezing her eyes shut, steeling herself for the anticipated onslaught of pain. Yet, what she felt was nothing like she expected. Eric's fangs pierced her skin with an exquisite delicacy, a mere pinprick that unleashed a tidal wave of ecstasy, threatening to drown her in its overwhelming power. Her knees threatened to buckle, but Eric's unwavering grip on her waist held her steady.

With deliberate slowness, he began to release her wrists, his touch trailing to the shoulder he fed from, a gentle caress that sent shivers cascading down her spine. Eric drank sparingly, a restraint that surprised Sookie, who, despite her limited understanding of vampire desires, remembered how Bill would take much more. The Viking's tongue traced over the punctures, sealing the wounds, leaving Sookie's with his mark. The evidence of his claim on her.

"Hello, lover," Eric growled, his tongue sweeping across the corner of his mouth to capture a final crimson droplet of her essence. Sookie's legs buckled entirely, her body collapsing against his marble chest as electricity continued to pulse through every nerve ending.

"I can't—I can't even—" she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts against his skin. The room spun, water droplets suspended like diamonds in the steam around them.

Eric's eyes blazed with ancient hunger barely contained as he seized her face between his hands, his thumbs digging into her cheekbones. When his mouth crashed down on hers, she tasted her own blood mingled with something primal and forbidden. He tore himself away with visible effort, his fangs still partially extended.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice a dangerous rumble that vibrated through her bones. "Let me claim every inch of you now."

Chapter Text

Chapter 20. Reluctance.

Eric's cool skin felt like marble beneath Sookie's fingertips as she traced lazy patterns across his chest. The weight of Quinn's name sat on her tongue, but she swallowed it back. Even if nothing had happened, vampires weren't known for their rational reactions to perceived rivals—especially not thousand-year-old Vikings with territorial instincts that predated their immortality. Some conversations could wait for another night.

"Sookie." Eric's voice rumbled through his chest. "I need to return to Fangtasia tonight. Business matters."

She masked the disappointment that flashed across her face. "Right, of course."

"Join me tonight," he said, his ice-blue eyes lingering on her face with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Sookie's insides knotted. "Fangtasia feels different now. Everyone will see what's between us."

Something darkened behind Eric's gaze. "You wish to hide this?"

"No, that's not it." Her fingers worried the hem of the sheet covering them. "I just don't know what to call... this. What we are. 'Boyfriend' sounds..."

Eric shifted, rising to face her as the silk sheet slid down to reveal the marble plane of his abdomen. "Sounds what, exactly?"

Sookie straightened, holding his stare. "Ridiculous. Like calling the ocean a puddle. And I can't tell if you even understand what humans mean by 'dating.'"

Eric's laugh rumbled through the room, low and rich. "Titles are for humans with their fleeting lives," he said, one cool finger tracing her collarbone. "Call me what you will, lover. I could not care less. All that matters is that you are mine."

Sookie rolled her eyes at his possessiveness, but caught herself biting her bottom lip, fighting back the words that threatened to burst from her chest—that in this strange dance between human and vampire, fairy and immortal, he was every bit as much hers as she was his.

A possessive heat bloomed in her chest, surprising her with its intensity. She pictured Eric at Fangtasia without her—fangbangers sliding into his booth, offering their wrists, their necks, their everything. The thought of all those nights she wouldn't witness, all those moments she couldn't guard against, made her stomach clench. Better to be there, watching, than alone with her imagination crafting betrayals she might never see coming.

Eric watched her internal debate play across her face, his own reluctance to leave stemming from a different place entirely. Unlike Sookie's jealousy, his was a simpler ache—the physical pain of separation. A thousand years on this earth, and still the thought of spending even a few hours across town from her made his chest tighten. He would sit on his throne at Fangtasia, fielding business matters with half his mind while the rest circled endlessly back to this bedroom, to her scent on these sheets, to the pulse of her exquisite blood calling for him. Better to have her within sight, where her presence alone would sharpen his focus rather than splinter it.

"I guess I'd rather see the fangbangers drooling over you than just imagine it," Sookie sighed, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. At her closet, she pushed hangers aside with sharp little clicks, finally extracting blue jeans and a fitted black top—the perfect canvas for that tangerine silk scarf Eric had gifted her.

She leaned toward the mirror, fluffing her blonde waves when Eric's reflection appeared behind her. His hands slipped around her neck, cool fingers working the clasp of a silver pendant.

"You're not setting foot in Fangtasia without my mark," he murmured against her ear. "And I don't mean these" Pointing to the marks his fangs had left on his neck, which Eric now made disappear by sliding his index finger with some of his blood over them.

The Corvette's engine cut off in Eric's reserved parking space at Fangtasia, the subtle "NORTHMAN" sign gleaming under the neon lights. Any fool who'd ever parked there hadn't made the same mistake twice.

Eric's cool fingers interlaced with Sookie's as they slipped through the employee entrance, bypassing the line of hopeful humans dressed in their gothiest attire. The familiar corridor to his office felt different tonight—she wasn't just visiting anymore.

They found Pam lounging in Eric's leather chair, her pale fingers leafing through ledgers. She looked up with a smirk that showed just the edge of fang.

"The king returns to his castle," she drawled. "How generous of you to grace us with your presence."

Eric's expression remained impassive. "Check your messages, Pam."

Pam's crimson lips curved into a smirk as she gave Sookie a deliberate once-over, lingering on the pendant at her throat. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to stop fighting the inevitable."

Sookie settled into the visitor's chair across from the desk, the same seat she'd occupied countless times before. Yet tonight, something had shifted. The air around her seemed to crackle with a new awareness. Not quite authority, not exactly confidence—but something deeper. As if the fairy blood in her veins recognized this vampire domain and refused to be intimidated by it.

The realization settled over her like a warm cloak—this thousand-year-old creature would move mountains at her whisper. The thought bubbled up inside her chest, equal parts intoxication and absurdity. Sookie traced her fingers along the arm of the chair, remembering how she'd once perched here like a sparrow in a hawk's nest. How many times had she pushed through that door only to find some leather-clad woman sprawled across this very desk? How many nights had she sat right here, watching his lips form words about business matters, imagining those same lips capturing hers mid-sentence?

The weight of the pendant against her skin was like a whispered promise—a tangible reminder of how the scales had tipped. Sookie traced the edge of the armrest, remembering how her knuckles used to whiten against this same leather.

Once, she'd been the one waiting nervously in this chair while Eric's attention drifted elsewhere. Now his eyes tracked her every movement, as if afraid she might vanish again.

A smile tugged at her lips, unbidden.

"Care to share the joke?" Eric's voice was velvet-wrapped steel as he leaned against the desk.

"Just thinking about how things change," she said, meeting his gaze. "This office has seen quite the evolution."

"For the better, I hope."

Sookie tilted her head. "Let's just say I prefer being the one wearing your necklace rather than watching someone else wear nothing at all."

Eric's mouth quirked up at one corner as he surveyed the scattered invoices across his desk. Pam hovered by the threshold, fingers drumming against the doorframe.

"TruBlood?" she drawled, one eyebrow arched perfectly.

"No, thank you, my appetite has been... thoroughly addressed earlier."

Sookie felt warmth crawl up her neck to her hairline. The ancient predator who had terrorized villages across two continents now found sustenance in her veins alone.

"I see..." Pam's fangs clicked down slightly as her gaze lingered on Sookie's throat. "Almost forgot." She slid a crimson-sealed envelope across Eric's desk. "Arrived by courier. Marked urgent."

Eric's jaw tightened at the crimson wax. "Sophie-Anne."

"The Queen has called all Sheriffs to New Orleans. Two days from now." Pam filled in.

Eric's fingers drummed against the crimson seal. "The political landscape is... shifting."

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit acquired from centuries of watching humans signal their distress.

His fangs threatened to descend as the implications of the crimson seal crystallized. New Orleans meant leaving Sookie vulnerable. Even hours without her had become torturous—days would be unbearable. Worse still, Sophie-Anne's court would be crawling with ancient enemies he'd hoped never to face again in his immortal existence.

For a fleeting moment, he considered bringing Sookie along. The fairy blood now dominated her essence, making her less breakable, more... otherworldly. She'd been entangled in vampire politics since the night Bill Compton first walked into Merlotte's, without her being able to make a decision about it. Yet dragging her into the viper's nest of New Orleans would only place her directly in harm's way.

"Your face is doing that thing again," Sookie said softly.

Pam's crimson lips curved upward. "I can arrange a security detail—"

"Absolutely not," Sookie cut in, her Southern accent thickening with irritation. "I don't need vampire babysitters hovering while I'm trying to live my life."

"Sookie—" Eric began, his voice low.

She pushed herself up from the chair, hands finding her hips. "Is this how it's gonna be, ain't it? Me surrounded by your minions every time you leave town? I survived twenty-five years without vampire protection before you came along."

Eric rose to his full height, towering over her. "And I survived a thousand years by never underestimating threats," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Don't mistake my protection for doubt in your abilities."

"I'll leave you two to your lovers' quarrel," Pam drawled, her crimson lips curving into a smirk. "The vermin at the bar need tending." She slipped out before either could respond, the door clicking shut behind her.

Eric prowled around the desk toward Sookie, his movements fluid and predatory. She stood her ground even as her pulse quickened, unable to tell if the heat in his gaze promised pleasure or battle.

When he reached her, his cool fingers brushed against her cheek, tucking a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Sookie's breath caught in her throat.

"Come with me to New Orleans," he said, his voice low and intimate.

"So you can parade me around like your pet?"

Eric's eyes darkened. "Because the thought of being separated from you again feels like silver against my skin. I find I can't bear even a day without you. Surely you feel it too."

Truth be told, Sookie's body betrayed her before her mind could catch up. Her skin burned for his touch like a fever that wouldn't break. The thought of being separated from him clawed at her insides, a physical ache that made her hands tremble.

"That's a yes?" His voice dropped to that dangerous register that made her knees weak as his hand snaked around her waist, yanking her against the marble coldness of his body.

"God, Eric, I can't think like this" Sookie whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't stop feeling you inside me... since yesterday. It's like you've branded me."

"Good," he growled, his eyes darkening to midnight. "Five years without you has left me famished. Even a million nights in your arms might not be enough to satisfy what I've endured."

In one fluid motion, he swept the papers from his desk and lifted her onto the cold surface, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. His mouth crashed against hers with the force of a hunger finally unleashed, his fangs grazing her bottom lip until she tasted copper on her tongue.

Sookie's body wrapped around him like living vines—her arms locked tight at his throat, her legs wound around his hips—matching every thrust of Eric's mouth against her skin. Even as their breath tangled, she knew nothing would ever sate the hunger between them. Vampires would always want more, as if she owed them some cosmic debt. How could she pull away now, when his every touch scorched her?

When Eric eased back, lips ghosting over her throat, she gasped, "And if other vampires sense my newly strengthened fairy essence?" she murmured the moment Eric paused between kisses along her neck.

"I haven't noticed any change… it is stronger, yes, but it shouldn't be more enticing than the usual to the average vampire. For me? Almost unbearable," Eric admitted, scattering tender kisses across her collarbone.

Sookie's fingers clawed through his blond hair as he dipped lower, lifting her top to expose her heated skin. "Will I have to follow you everywhere?" Her voice trembled with equal parts desire and dread as veins pulsed under her skin.

Eric paused, chest rising and falling. He stood, eyes burning into hers. "Absolutely. I won't risk leaving you unguarded in a palace full of thirsty vampires." He brushed a fingertip along her lip. "You'll go as my mate."

"Mate? Isn't that… a little savage?" she protested.

His grin was dangerous. "Civilized isn't exactly my forte," he murmured, then returned his worshipful assault to her breasts.

Sookie shivered at the delicious contrast—his cool mouth against her flushed warmth—each flick of his tongue igniting her from within, as though her own heat fueled his desire. Between ragged moans, she dared, "Shall we do the third exchange?"

Eric paused, head lifting so fast she almost ached for his touch. He met her gaze, the fire in his eyes softening with conflict. "I won't lie to you, lover: you're utterly irresistible to every vampire, anyone in the room would kill to have you. Without a permanent bond between us, someone could try to claim you…" His voice trailed off.

She swallowed hard, panic threading through her excitement. "So any vampire who takes a fancy to me could abduct me?" Terror edged her voice.

"Not while I'm with you," he vowed, cradling her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones with brutal tenderness.

But even his promise couldn't anchor her racing heart. She pushed his hands aside, slid off the desk, and sank onto the deep-red velvet couch she knew all too well from her visits here. Now it felt like a throne of razorblades under her. She watched him, every nerve alive, knowing what hung in the balance.

The only way to guarantee her safety—and keep Eric at her side—was to perform the third blood exchange and seal their bond forever. Had they only just reunited, cementing their new terms… and was she truly ready for eternity?

Eric knelt before her, his ancient eyes softening as his cool fingertips traced circles on her knees. "The blood bond can wait, Sookie, you don't have to decide now," he murmured, his accent thickening with the weight of a thousand years. "Stay in Bon Temps if you wish. But allow me this—let me ensure your protection, even from a distance. For both your safety and my sanity."

Sookie's mind churned with indecision. Stay in Bon Temps without him? Follow him into a nest of hungry vampires? Bind herself to him permanently? She extricated herself from his cool embrace, her skin still burning where he'd touched her. "I need a drink," she muttered, smoothing her rumpled blouse.

Eric lowered his gaze to the floor, a whispered "Fuck..." escaping his lips like a prayer no one was meant to hear. He watched her retreat—each step she took away from him igniting a predatory instinct he'd spent centuries mastering. She still danced at the edges of commitment. He'd give her anything—his protection, his wealth, his blood, his eternal devotion. The mighty Eric Northman, who had survived a millennium by yielding to no one, would kneel at her command. Yet something in her still held back, still feared the completeness of what they could become together.

Eric's certainty burned like ancient fire. The third exchange would transform them—not merely binding them, but forging something transcendent from their separate selves. He had witnessed a thousand years of vampire unions, yet only a handful had ever achieved true pledging, especially with beings from other realms. During those endless five years of her absence, he had contemplated every consequence, weighed every risk. The decision that still tormented her had long ago crystallized for him. He craved the vulnerability of it—this immortal who had survived centuries through cold calculation now yearned to surrender his eternal existence to her keeping.

The weight of eternity pressed against Sookie's chest as she moved away from Eric. Her heart knew what it wanted, but her mind reeled at the numbers—three hundred years, five hundred, perhaps even eight hundred—stretching before her like an endless highway with no exit signs. She'd never been possessive before, not like this, not with a hunger that made her fingers twitch and her jaw clench whenever another woman's gaze lingered on him.

Was this Eric's effect on her, this primal claim staking itself in her blood? And if she surrendered to this bond completely, what escape route remained if her heart changed course again? Would it change?

She'd nearly reached the bar, her mouth already forming the words "gin and tonic," when warm fingers brushed her shoulder.

Chapter Text

A/N: Yasss, two chapters in a row.

Chapter 21. Script.

Sookie whirled around at the touch on her shoulder. The golden-eyed man towered over her, his smile radiating a heat that made her collar feel suddenly tight.

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her chest. "You startled me."

"My apologies." Quinn's gaze locked onto hers like a predator. "Fate seems to have thrown us together."

Sookie edged sideways, drink clutched to her chest like a shield. "I wouldn't call it fate exactly."

His fingers encircled her wrist as she tried to slip past. "Just one moment of your time. Please?"

Across the room, Eric's head snapped up. The ripple of Sookie's discomfort traveled through their bond like an electric current, pulling him from his office toward the bar.

"Quinn, I appreciate the interest, but—" Sookie's words died in her throat.

"But she's otherwise engaged." Eric's arm snaked possessively around her waist, his voice arctic.

Quinn's eyes darted between them, recognition dawning. "Northman. I wasn't aware…"

"Consider yourself informed." Eric's face remained a beautiful marble mask.

Quinn's smile didn't reach his eyes as he backed away. "Pleasure to see you again, Sookie, until next time" He melted into the crowd, leaving the scent of amber and musk in his wake.

"You've met him before?" Eric's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he shifted, effectively pinning Sookie between his body and the polished mahogany of the bar.

"Not here," Sookie breathed, her eyes darting toward the curious onlookers pretending not to watch.

Before she could draw another breath, Eric's hand was at the small of her back, guiding her with vampire speed through the crowd. The office door clicked shut behind them with finality. When he turned to face her, his blue eyes burned cold as winter stars.

"You demand honesty, yet you keep secrets," Eric said, his voice deceptively soft. "Interesting double standard, lover."

Sookie's shoulders tensed. "I can explain."

"By all means." Eric's fangs descended with a soft click as he settled behind his desk, legs spread wide, hands gripping the armrests like thrones.

Sookie planted her feet, chin lifting. "Put those away. That intimidation routine might've worked on the old me, Eric Northman, but not anymore."

"I don't listen explanations…" Eric said nonchalantly.

Sookie let out a growl. "Quinn was my dance partner that night at the club—when we run into each other" Sookie's voice hardened. "When you took me home—"

"When you smelled more of him than the alcohol coursing through your veins." Eric's nostrils flared at the memory.

Sookie's finger jabbed toward him. "I'm done if you can't be civil."

Eric's jaw tightened, but he remained silent. "Nothing happened beyond that dance. You interrupted, as usual." Sookie crossed her arms.

"And that disappoints you?" The question cracked like a whip.

"ERIC!" Sookie's palm cracked against the desk. "I ran into him at the occult bookstore yesterday, with Amelia. That's the first time I even heard his name."

"And you couldn't mention your... entanglements... during this chance meeting?"

"What entanglements? Until yesterday, we were nothing."

Eric went still, the kind of stillness only the undead could achieve. "Nothing?" His voice dropped to a whisper that felt like ice against her skin. "I waited for you, I gave you your space, I opened my heart to you, I gave you everything you asked for from me, even fidelity when we weren't even together, because you needed it. Is that nothing to you?"

"Sweet Lord, you're impossible!" Sookie's hands balled into fists. "I came to you yesterday, didn't I? I chose you yesterday, didn't I? You've been in my bed ever since, haven't you? You asshole! What more do you want from me?"

"I want the same honesty you expect from me, Sookie." Eric's voice was dangerously quiet. "Why am I learning about the tiger's interest in you like this?"

"Tiger?" Sookie blinked, her supernatural radar apparently malfunctioning. She'd sensed Quinn wasn't human, but hadn't pegged him as a were-tiger. She exhaled sharply. "I didn't mention it because it wasn't worth mentioning. I was trying to avoid exactly this—" she gestured at his rigid posture, "—territorial vampire drama. Whatever Quinn wants, he won't get it from me."

Eric loomed over her, fangs fully extended, his glacial eyes boring into hers. The silence stretched between them like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. In the past, this display would have sent her heart racing, her skin prickling with that delicious fear he could smell from across the room—even as she stood her ground. Tonight, her heartbeat remained steady, her gaze unflinching. The realization hit him like a physical blow: his power over her had vanished.

"Those fangs don't scare me anymore," Sookie said, crossing her arms. "I'm not that same waitress who trembled at your feet."

Eric's shoulders dropped a fraction. His fangs retracted with a soft click as he turned away, the mask of Viking warrior slipping just enough to reveal something raw beneath.

"I didn't mean to keep it from you," she said, her voice gentler now. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach for him.

"The fucking tiger moves in powerful circles, Sookie" Eric said, his voice flat. "He's fought in the pits for the last decade. Every supernatural creature from New Orleans to Quebec knows his name." He met her eyes again. "And now he's fixated on you. I'm afraid, this won't be the last we see of him."

Sookie closed the distance between them, her fingertips brushing his cheek with a tenderness that belied her earlier fury.

"I chose you," she whispered, her Southern accent thickening with emotion. "Not just yesterday, but every moment since." Her thumb traced the sharp line of his jaw. "I did it, willingly, consciously, out loud, and it was fully consummated if I may say so"

Eric's gaze remained fixed on the floor, centuries of pride warring with the vulnerability she alone could extract from him. The muscles in his jaw twitched beneath her palm.

"You're Eric Northman," she said, testing the unfamiliar endearment on her tongue. "Baby, since when do you doubt yourself?"

The term of endearment startled a laugh from him, rough and genuine. His eyes, when they finally met hers, held wonder.

"I survived once without you," he said quietly. "But I don't think I could do it again."

"You won't have to." Sookie's fingers laced with his. "I'm right here. Today. Tomorrow. For as long as you'll have me."

"And how long might that be?" His voice was carefully neutral.

Sookie staggered backward, her hand tearing from his as though burned. "Why would someone like you—" her voice cracked, "who's watched civilizations crumble to dust—ever bind yourself to something as fragile and fleeting as me?"

Eric's eyes blazed electric blue in the darkness, pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the iris. "You think I haven't asked myself that a thousand times?" He closed the distance between them in a blur of movement. "I've tasted the blood of queens and bathed in the tears of gods, Sookie Stackhouse, yet nothing—nothing—has ever consumed me like you."

A single tear escaped, burning a path down Sookie's face as her lungs fought against the vise grip of emotion. The thought crashed over her again—just like last night—this crushing wave of inadequacy. How could she, with her fleeting human life and simple Southern heart, ever satisfy the bottomless hunger of blood and now, love, of a thousand-year-old vampire?

"I fear," Eric whispered against her ear, his voice raw and ancient, "that what burns in you for me is but a candle flame compared to the inferno that devours me."

He stepped back abruptly, creating distance between them. Without meeting her eyes, he shuffled papers on his desk with unnecessary precision.

"I'll handle New Orleans alone," he said, his voice clipped. "Your security detail will be arranged for both day and night."

Sookie opened her mouth to object, but Eric raised one pale finger.

"Ah-ah. No. Consider this payment for your... omission."

She pressed her lips together and nodded once.

For the next hour, silence hung between them like a third presence. Eric buried himself in paperwork while Sookie nursed a gin and tonic, occasionally releasing sighs that seemed to bounce off his deliberate indifference.

"Time to go," he finally announced, rising in one fluid motion. He collected his jacket and lifted Sookie from the couch with efficient hands, draping her coat across her shoulders in a gesture too impersonal to be tender.

"Eric..." she whispered, reaching for his arm.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry, lover. We're fine."

Eric dropped her off, his boots never crossing the threshold of her porch. His goodbye kiss lingered deliberately—the kind meant to say everything's fine without words. As his Corvette disappeared down the gravel drive, Sookie stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers pressed against lips still cool from his touch. The certainty she'd felt in his office had evaporated. She recognized the careful distance in his eyes, the wound she'd inflicted with her silence about Quinn and her own reluctance at committing herself to him. For the first time since discovering her telepathy, Sookie wished she could read a vampire's mind—because she had no idea how to fix what she'd broken.

The next day, Claudine materialized on Sookie's porch at high noon, her otherworldly beauty somehow more pronounced in the harsh sunlight. With Amelia in New Orleans visiting family, the house felt emptier than usual.

Claudine wrinkled her nose delicately over her glass of sweet tea. "Eric's scent clings to you like Spanish moss on a Louisiana oak."

Sookie traced the condensation on her own glass. "I went to him."

"Yet you look like someone facing execution rather than reunion."

"It's complicated." Sookie's voice dropped. "He wants the third blood exchange."

Claudine's eyebrows arched. "And you're hesitating because...?"

"Because forever is a damn long time if things go south." Sookie's fingers tightened around her glass. "What happens when he breaks my heart and I'm still tethered to him?"

"Nothing is truly unbreakable," Claudine said, her ancient eyes softening. "But perhaps that's not the real question. Do you see a future with him, or not?"

"I chose him," Sookie whispered. "I want a life with him."

"Then what truly haunts you?"

Sookie's gaze drifted to the window, to the human world beyond. "If I embrace my fairy nature alongside this bond... we're not talking about fifty more years. We're talking about—"

"Immortality," Claudine finished, a bell-like laugh escaping her. "You fear eternity more than you fear losing him."

Sookie's silence hung in the air like a verdict.

"I'll tell you a story," Claudine began, voice low and raw. "My parents' love was a feral thing—pure, fierce, almost impossible among our kind. They were of a dying generation of fairies who matched souls instead of breeding for lineage. Their bond was one of the last bright miracles I ever witnessed, and every moment I spent watching them was nothing short of holy. But fate's summons came first for my father—the call to the Summerlands, our eternal paradise. In our world, that call is the greatest blessing: an unending life in a realm bathed in silver light and humming with ancient song. We felt gratitude, not grief, for what awaited him. And we believed—naïvely, as it turned out—that only a few fleeting years would separate him from my mother's side once she too crossed the threshold.

The day before Father was to depart, our fortress fell under a savage raid by our enemies. I was too inexpert but my parents were seasoned warriors. My father, side by side with my Uncle Niall, held the ramparts with a lion's courage. He roared defiance until the end, sacrificing himself to buy Niall's life.

When the smoke cleared, victory was ours, but the cost was unimaginable. Mother finally understood that the Summerlands would claim only one half of her heart. That realization shattered her.

In fairykind, grief is a slow poison. When the light dims in a heart bowed by mourning, the body surrenders—flesh turns ashen, veins collapse, and the dying fairy becomes prey to every sickness.

A week after Father's last breath, while the castle still lay littered with broken shields and shattered bones, I watched Mother rise from her bed. Her skin was the ghost of what it once had been—thin, gray, translucent, eyes hollowed by sorrow and circled with bruised darkness. She moved as if carried by shadows, toward the rose gardens where she and Father used to speak in low laughter.

I followed her at a distance, cradling the hope she might whisper to the wind, call his name, find some spark of solace. When dawn's first gold sliced through the oak boughs and set the petals ablaze, she paused, sank to her knees, and drew a dagger so familiar it seemed bonded to her hand. I surged forward, but with the last of her magic, she wove a ring of glimmering protection that held me away. Her voice, a thin tremor, sliced through my fear: 'Not even 700 hundred years with him will be enough, my child. If I cannot share eternity at his side, I want no eternity at all.' She closed her eyes and drove the blade into her belly with terrible precision—as if she'd practiced this final act of love for a thousand lifetimes. The wound smoked with sorrow. Her body fell apart in an instant, her essence turning to dust and drifting on the dawn breeze. Within seconds, she was gone—ashes on the earth, her light extinguished."

Claudine's voice fell silent, her face serene but her eyes blazing with an ancient fire that made Sookie's breath catch in her throat.

"Claudine... I didn't know, I'm so sorry—" Sookie whispered, the words inadequate against such raw grief.

"No." Claudine's fingers suddenly gripped Sookie's with supernatural strength, her nails digging half-moons into Sookie's palm. "No, Sookie. Fate bound their souls together in death when life was stolen from them. Listen to me." Her voice dropped to a fierce hiss. "Whether it's Eric or not, I pray you find that kind of consuming love—the kind that would make you tear apart the veil between worlds if you were separated. The kind that burns so hot it would incinerate your soul rather than endure separation. Because eternity, sweet child?" Her eyes flashed with something wild and inhuman. "Eternity is just a prison sentence if you spend it watching the clock instead of drowning in the eyes of the one who makes your immortal heart remember what it means to be alive."

Tears welled in Sookie's eyes, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. Something in Claudine's story had reached into her chest and squeezed.

"Listen to me," Claudine said, her cool fingers brushing the wetness from Sookie's face. "Even the unbreakable can be broken if do it right, but remember this—we fairies bind ourselves once, completely. That blood runs in your veins whether you embrace your heritage fully or not. If Eric is truly your choice..." Her voice softened. "I don't believe you'll ever seek to sever what binds you to him. The question is… do you really feel that Eric is your match or not?

Sookie let the question hang in the air between them. Claudine watched her for a moment, then straightened her shoulders with fairy grace.

"I come bearing a message from Niall," she said, her voice taking on a formal quality.

Sookie's shoulders slumped. She'd been expecting this.

"Has the princess made her choice?" Claudine's tone was gentle but insistent.

"I can't," Sookie whispered, tracing the rim of her glass. "Not until Eric and I figure out what we are to each other."

Claudine's eyes flashed, a hint of otherworldly light dancing in their depths. "There you're wrong. Your fairy essence isn't a bargaining chip in a love affair, Sookie. Men—vampire, shifter, fairy, human—they're all temporary in their own ways." She leaned forward, her perfume carrying hints of sunlight and honey. "This choice is about who you are, not who you love. Your fairy nature will outlast any romance, even one that spans centuries."

"Agh, don't you get tired of being right?" Sookie protested.

"I was named fairy godmother for a reason, right? It's my duty."

"So what happens if I choose to embrace my fairy side completely?" Sookie asked, leaning forward in her chair.

Claudine's eyes sparkled. "As I promised—and Niall has confirmed this—you won't be forced into our realm or our traditions." She reached into a pocket that seemed to materialize in her flowing dress and withdrew a scroll the color of aged bourbon. The parchment unfurled across the table with a soft whisper.

Sookie's eyes scanned the elegant script. The document granted her full fairy status while preserving her autonomy—where she lived, whom she loved, how she conducted her affairs. Niall and all future fairy rulers would be bound to honor her choices. It looked straightforward, almost too good to be true, but Claudine's open expression reassured her.

"What about my scent?" Sookie's fingers traced the edge of the parchment. "If vampires find me even more irresistible, Eric and I won't stand a chance."

"The intoxicating aroma only develops in those born in Fairy or who dwell there extensively," Claudine explained. "Earth's atmosphere naturally dampens it."

"And my blood?" Sookie pressed. "Will it affect Eric more strongly?"

Claudine frowned, not wanting Sookie to base her decision on Eric, but replied.

Claudine's knife sliced through an apple skin in one continuous spiral. "The permanent bond transforms two souls into one being," she said, her eyes on her work. "Once joined, Eric could never drain you dry, no matter how intoxicating your blood becomes to him. Your body would simply... replenish what he needs." She separated the peel from the fruit with a delicate flick of her wrist. "Your fairy powers would still affect him—you could glamour him without his knowledge—but neither of you could truly harm the other." The apple gleamed, naked and vulnerable in her palm. "I'm not claiming expertise on vampire-fairy bonds. This is uncharted territory for all of us." She quartered the fruit with precise movements. "But if you both exchange blood regularly, you'll likely develop a shared essence. Your blood adapting to his needs, his strength flowing into you." She offered Sookie a slice, her expression serene. "Two halves of one whole."

Sookie traced the edge of the parchment with her fingertip, her expression unreadable. "I need to think about this," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Claudine tilted her head. "How much time shall I tell Niall to expect before your decision?"

"Seven days," Sookie replied, meeting her godmother's gaze with newfound resolve. "Just one week."

"As you wish." Claudine gestured toward the document with an elegant sweep of her hand. "When you're ready, simply sign your name. No ceremony required." Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "The covenant will activate instantly—fairy bureaucracy is far more efficient than the human variety."

"Why the rush?" Sookie traced the edge of the parchment with her fingertip. "I thought I had more time to consider all this."

"The shadows in Faery grow longer each day," Claudine whispered, her fingers trembling slightly against the parchment. "This document bears Niall's royal seal—a protection that transcends his reign." She glanced over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers, though they were alone. "Should the throne fall to... others..." Her voice caught, a flash of terror crossing her perfect features. "This covenant binds all supernatural beings to honor your choice. What sleeps in your blood now would fully awaken—not a transformation, but a recognition of what has always been yours."

"I see…" Sookie twisted a strand of hair around her finger, hesitating before meeting Claudine's gaze. "Before you go, there's something else I need to know."

Claudine's eyebrows arched delicately. "Ask away."

"These fairy powers of mine—they're unpredictable. Those light beams shot from my hands when I was overwhelmed, but I had no control. If I'm in real danger..." Sookie's voice dropped to a whisper. "What else might I be capable of? And how do I make sure I don't hurt the wrong person?"

"Think of it as having a full fairy toolkit with some of the instruments still wrapped in their packaging," Claudine said, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. "Your light beams? That's just one tool you've managed to unwrap—and only because your emotions were strong enough to tear through the sealing. When you feel cornered or overwhelmed, that's when the light comes." She leaned forward, her eyes searching Sookie's face. "With practice, you could summon that defense at will instead of waiting for a breaking point." Her head tilted suddenly. "Your aura just darkened. What's troubling you?"

"No, it's about Eric," Sookie sighed, twisting her napkin between her fingers. "There's this vampire sheriff's summit in New Orleans. He wanted me there with him, but after our fight..." She trailed off, staring at her hands.

Claudine's eyebrows arched. "Trouble in paradise already? The commitment issue?"

"Something like that." Sookie's voice dropped to a whisper. "I hurt his feelings"

"A thousand-year-old Viking with hurt feelings?" Claudine's lips quirked. "He must be absolutely bewitched by you."

Sookie met her godmother's gaze, her chin lifting slightly. "The feeling's mutual. And I need him to be sure of that."

Claudine's eyes widened. "You're considering walking into a Vampire Queen's palace crawling with vampires who'd drain you dry if they caught one whiff of fairy?"

"I need to be there for Eric," Sookie said, squaring her shoulders. "But I'd feel a lot better with some protection beyond these light beams that only show up when I'm terrified."

Claudine's expression softened. "There's a way to mute your essence—like turning down the volume on a radio that's broadcasting to every vampire in the vicinity." She rose gracefully. "Let me teach you."

Sookie's hands trembled with fatigue as the sun dipped toward the horizon. For hours, she'd repeated the enchantment until her tongue felt numb, but finally mastered it—forwards and backwards as required. "Remember," Claudine cautioned, "this shield lasts only a day. You'll need to renew it each sunset." Next came the light beams, Sookie's fingers tingling as she learned to channel rather than explode with power. When Claudine demonstrated a protection circle, tracing silvery light in the air, Sookie's heart clenched—it mirrored what Claudine's mother had created in her final moments. "Your half-human blood makes these gifts unpredictable," Claudine warned, brushing a strand of hair from Sookie's damp forehead. "Never assume they'll save you."

Claudine's departure left a vacuum in the house, her fairy presence replaced by the creaking of old floorboards and the whisper of wind through the eaves. Sookie wrapped her arms around herself, the silence pressing against her eardrums. After weeks of constant companionship, the emptiness felt almost predatory. Her fingers hovered over her phone, Tara's number half-dialed, when a sharp rap at the door sent her heart skittering against her ribs.

Chapter Text

A/N: I've always believed that the best stage of relationships is when they're just beginning. You don't appreciate it at the moment because it tends to be complicated, confusing, somewhat unstable, but those moments are what will determine many things for the future. Personally, I love the stable stage, but there's nothing like those first few months when everything was nerves, sexual tension, and first times. As for Eric and Sookie, I think they are highly complex characters, and just because Eric has had five years to make up his mind, it doesn't mean he has completely changed his essence. Sookie is still living with a kind of PTSD, let's not forget. And if we add to that her imminent decision about whether or not to become a full fairy... I can't imagine what it would be like to feel that way. Well, I can imagine it, that's why I write it, haha. But I want you to know that behind all this there is something that is unbreakable: the love between them. And this story is about that.

Also, something I really missed in the books and series is domesticity. Eric and Sookie in a more domestic mode, like any other couple would be, is invaluable to me.

I'm already working on Chapter 23 and a new one for WTLT.

Chapter 22. Red stain.

Sookie's breath caught in her throat when she opened the door. Eric stood on her porch, moonlight gleaming in his blonde hair, cradling a bouquet of daisies and Louisiana irises.

Just hours ago, she'd watched hurt flash across his face when she'd balked at forever. Yet here he was.

"I didn't think I'd see you tonight," she said, stepping back to let him in.

"How could I stay away?" His voice was low, intimate. "With New Orleans tomorrow, I want every second I can steal with you." He pressed the flowers into her hands, his cool lips brushing her cheek.

"They're perfect, thank you." She whispered, inhaling their sweet scent.

His smile was answer enough.

"About New Orleans," she said, heading toward the kitchen with Eric trailing behind. "Amelia's visiting family there. I could probably crash at her place for a few days. Haven't called her yet, but she won't mind."

Eric's eyebrows lifted. "You would stay there the whole time?"

"Safer than a vampire palace, isn't it? And we could still see each other between your Sheriff duties." She arranged the flowers in Gran's old crystal vase, satisfied with how they brightened the room.

"Perhaps..." Eric murmured, his hands finding her waist. His mouth descended to her neck, nose tracing the line of her pulse. Clearly, travel logistics weren't foremost on his mind.

"Hungry tonight, huh?" she teased.

His eyes met hers, suddenly serious. "For you? Always. But I came to see you, Sookie. TruBlood and abstinence would sustain me perfectly fine if you don't want to–"

Sookie rose onto her tiptoes, her fingers threading through his cool blond hair as she captured his mouth with hers. When she finally broke away, her breath came in small gasps.

"I haven't been fair to you , and I'm sorry" she whispered, her gaze locked with his ice-blue one. "This thing between us—I'm having trouble adjusting. But Eric, never doubt what I feel for you or how deep my feelings are. Not for a second."

His arms tightened around her waist, his lips hovering a breath away from hers. "You will have to show me, lover" he murmured against her mouth.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat as he swept her effortlessly into his arms. He carried her toward the living room where firelight danced across the walls, casting everything in amber warmth.

The bedroom seemed miles away, unnecessary. The fire's glow would witness what neither of them could wait another moment to share.

Eric's hands trembled as he laid her on the sofa—the same sofa where he'd spent countless nights during her absence, his body burning with memories of her, his fingers digging into the cushions until they tore. He swept her hair back with an almost violent tenderness, his breath catching. His whole existence, and nothing—nothing—had ever struck him with such devastating beauty. She consumed him, filled every hollow space he'd never acknowledged existed within him. Through the veil of her new fae power, he could still see the woman who'd walked into Fangtasia that first night—white dress splashed with crimson flowers, another vampire's scent on her skin. The memory seared him. Eric's jaw clenched until his fangs cut into his own lip, the taste of his blood mingling with her scent as he inhaled her—deeply, desperately—before his eyes snapped open, blazing with hunger that transcended blood or flesh. Sookie couldn't hear his thoughts, but she felt the weight of them crash against her like a physical force.

This was the man who had haunted her dreams and nightmares alike—the predator she'd convinced herself to fear while her body betrayed her with every accelerated heartbeat in his presence. Bill had poisoned her against Eric, painting him as death incarnate, the monster who would drain her dry and discard her broken body without remorse. Yet even as she'd nodded and promised to stay away, something inside her screamed the truth. His eyes—God, those ancient blue eyes—stripped her bare whenever they locked with hers. Through blood-soaked battles and vicious arguments, when surrounded by enemies or allies, his gaze found her like a heat-seeking missile. Those eyes had witnessed a millennium of atrocities, yet when they settled on her, they BURNED—with protection, with hunger, with a raw, devastating need that made her knees buckle. Eric Northman, the most feared vampire in Louisiana, looked at her like she was both salvation and damnation. And Sookie knew, with bone-deep certainty that terrified her more than any supernatural threat ever could: this immortal warrior loved her with a ferocity that would outlast civilizations.

Sookie trembled against Eric's chest, her entire being consumed by a safety so profound it bordered on religious revelation. This was the dreaded Viking who had terrified Louisiana for decades—yet his arms formed an impenetrable fortress around her, his immortal body a shield that would shatter worlds before letting harm touch her. His cool skin burned against hers, and when his fingers traced her body, every corner ignited with electric certainty. No words passed his lips, but his body—Sweet Jesus, his body—screamed devotion with every unnecessary breath he took against her hair, with every possessive press of his palms that branded her as his, completely, irrevocably his.

"Lover, what's wrong?" Eric's voice was a primal growl against her throat as his massive frame pinned her to the sofa, his weight both crushing and essential as breathing. Sookie hadn't realized she was crying until his tongue swept across her cheek with professional precision, his pupils blown black with hunger as her salt-tinged essence hit his system. His fangs snapped down with an audible click that vibrated through her bones.

"It's always been you, Eric," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks that would heal instantly. "Always you."

"What do you mean?" His voice was dangerously soft, each word vibrating against her pulse.

"When did you know?" Her eyes locked with his, refusing to blink even as more tears spilled. "The exact moment you realized what I was to you?"

"You want this conversation, NOW?" Eric's laugh was dark and feral as he shifted his weight, the movement deliberately slow, his body dragging against every inch of hers as he repositioned himself on the sofa.

"Yes," Sookie whispered, her voice steadier than she felt.

Eric's eyes darkened. "At first, I thought it was just your blood I craved. Something precious and unique to possess." His fingers traced her collarbone. "But when Bill vanished after your sort of engagement... seeing you broken like that—" He paused, jaw tightening. "I realized I would tear apart anyone who caused you pain."

Sookie settled beside him, stretching her legs across his lap. "I always thought it was earlier."

"Make no mistake, dear one," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. "I've wanted you since you first walked into Fangtasia in that white sundress. But wanting and needing are different beasts entirely."

His lips brushed against hers like a whisper of winter wind.

"And when did you know?" Eric's voice was low, demanding in a way that sent shivers across her skin.

Sookie's fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw. "I felt something that first night at Fangtasia, watching you on that ridiculous throne," she admitted. "But Lord knows you didn't make it easy with all your high-handed vampire nonsense." A smile played at the corners of her mouth when he chuckled. "For the longest time, I convinced myself I hated the guts of you—you vile, smug, sarcastic ass." Her voice softened as her fingers tangled in his hair. "Then one day I realized I'd been lying to myself because of... because of Bill."

"Sometimes I catch myself wondering what might've happened if Bill had been waiting when I returned," Sookie whispered. Eric's shoulders stiffened, a muscle twitching along his jawline. She touched his wrist. "Not because I want him back. Just because he was my first... everything. That leaves a mark."

"I understand," Eric said, his voice carefully neutral. "If you wish to know of his whereabouts—"

"No." Sookie shook her head. "Just knowing he's out there somewhere, alive and well, is enough for me."

"Alive, certainly. Well, yes." Eric traced the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb, lingering on the flush that had spread across her skin from the fire's warmth. "His happiness is not information I've sought."

"Bill may have been my introduction to your world, but you're the one I chose to stay with." Sookie was determined to continue her mission to make Eric feel more confident about her feelings for him.

"Enough of Bill, lover" Eric growled, his voice a dangerous rumble as he seized Sookie in one fluid motion, depositing her onto his lap with such force the air rushed from her lungs. His mouth descended on her throat, teeth grazing—not quite breaking skin—as he traced a scorching path down her collarbone, tongue flicking against the constellation of freckles that led to the mole at the swell of her breasts. The scent of her arousal hit him like a physical blow.

Sookie's laugh transformed into a gasp as she straddled him, thighs trembling against his marble-hard frame. She captured his face between her palms, her fingernails digging crescents into his skin as she branded him with open-mouthed kisses—starting at his chin, devouring the sharp angle of his jaw, claiming every inch of his ancient face as hers alone. Eric's eyes blazed electric blue, his hands spanning her waist with bruising possession while she worshipped him with lips that promised violence and devotion in equal measure.

When her mouth finally found his, Eric's fangs snapped down with such force they nearly drew his own blood. In one savage movement, he flipped her beneath him on the sofa, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other tore at the fabric between them, his entire being focused on conquering her completely.

Eric released her wrists just long enough to strip away what remained of their clothing, then reclaimed his position above her. One hand pinned her arms overhead while the other traced a path down her body that left her trembling. His mouth found the tender hollow of her throat, fangs grazing skin without breaking it, each growl vibrating against her pulse. Sookie arched beneath him, surrendering to the contradiction of his touch—possessive yet reverent, savage yet precise.

Eric's touch was methodical yet worshipful, each caress mapping her body like territory he'd claimed yet never fully explored. When his fingertips traced the curve where her thigh met her center, and touched her warm and moist folds, Sookie's breath caught. His eyes locked with hers as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, fangs grazing skin with exquisite control until a single crimson droplet bloomed. The scent transformed him—pupils dilating instantly, a shudder rippling through his frame.

As Sookie felt Eric's erection press against her inner thigh, she instinctively parted her legs, granting him access to enter her. She was ready for him, and with a single powerful thrust, he filled her completely – their bodies once more connected. How could they not always be like that? The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made her gasp.

Eric began to move inside her, each thrust deeper and more intense than the last. Sookie's hips met his rhythmically, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion - moans, whimpers, growls and ragged breathing.

With every stroke of Eric's hard length within her, Sookie felt herself inching closer to the edge. Her body trembled as her orgasm built up inside her like a tidal wave. Sensing her impending climax, Eric quickened his pace, his eyes never leaving hers.

But just as they were both about to reach their climax, Eric lunged at Sookie's neck with a savagery that ripped a scream from her throat—his fangs piercing her flesh with such force that her vision flashed white. The primitive terror of prey seized her for one heart-stopping second before surrendering. His mouth sealed against her throat, pulling at her essence with desperate hunger. Her blood surged toward him, as if it had always belonged to him, racing through her veins to meet his need. Sookie's fingers dug into his back hard enough to draw blood of her own as the twin sensations—his body driving into hers, his fangs embedded in her neck—sent electric currents racing from her core to her fingertips. In that moment of perfect union, her blood sang what her lips couldn't yet form: Mine. Yours. Forever.

After the initial prick, the wave of pleasure overwhelmed Sookie and as she finally reached her peak, she cried out Eric's name, her nails digging harder into his back as her body convulsed with ecstasy. Feeling Sookie's muscles clench around him sent Eric over the edge, and he growled deeply as he found his own release within her, not letting go of her throat.

Tangled together on the sofa, they lay without speaking, Sookie's heartbeat gradually slowing while Eric's chest move in unnecessary breaths—a human habit he maintained only with her. When he finally shifted away, the cool air between their bodies felt like a promise rather than a separation. Their eyes met in the firelight, and neither needed words for what they both understood: this was merely the first page of a much longer story.

Sookie propped herself up on one elbow, her hair tumbling over bare shoulders as she caught Eric watching her from the opposite end of the sofa.

"Satisfied?" Sookie asked, her voice still raw from screaming his name.

Eric's eyes darkened as they traveled over her flushed skin. "You have no idea," He growled, fangs still partially extended still with her blood on them. His eyes burned electric blue in the dim light. "And you?"

Sookie couldn't answer, just nodded as aftershocks still rippled through her core. "I need something warm to drink." She finally managed, her throat dry.

"Don't move." He was gone in a blur of vampire speed.

Alone, Sookie's body hummed with lingering pleasure that bordered on pain. She pulled a blanket over herself, trembling not from cold but from the memory of his touch. As she rubbed her hands together, something caught her eye—dark crimson crescents beneath her fingernails. Eric's blood. Her mouth went instantly dry, a new hunger awakening.

"Huh."

Her index finger bore the richest stain, nearly invisible against her red polish. She brought it closer, transfixed by the metallic scent that made something primitive stir within her.

"I wonder..."

Before she could question the impulse, with her heart pounding, she lifted her finger to her lips. Just as her tongue darted out, Eric materialized with a steaming mug, his expression shifting realizing what she was about to do.

Chapter Text

A/N: Something is brewing, that's all I can say. I can't rush things.

Chapter 23. Preparation.

Eric's eyes widened as he set down the mug of sweet tea with a sharp clink. "Sookie, stop!" He lunged forward, his cool fingers wrapping around her wrist, pulling her bleeding finger away from her lips.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her brow furrowed. "It's just a drop–"

"The blood bond," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I've taken yours just minutes ago. One taste of mine now will make three exchanges. I explained this to you, Sookie."

She tilted her head, searching his face. "Oh… but isn't that what you want?"

Eric's expression softened, though his grip remained firm. "More than anything. But not like this—not by accident. When it happens, I want you to choose it."

Before Sookie could argue, Eric caught her fingers in his hand and licked away every trace of his blood.

"Don't you want to know why I'm so doubtful?" she asked.

Eric clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and exhaled sharply. "Yes," he admitted, "but it'll probably hurt to hear." He looked away.

Sookie gripped his hand and turned his face back toward her.

"Fairies bind themselves only once in their lives, and many never reach that bond because they treasure a certain freedom—freedom to change their minds, freedom to decide tomorrow that they want to leave," she began. Eric's shoulders tensed even more than usual.

"I bought a book on it and studied everything... I always thought I was seeking something eternal, my one true love for the rest of my days—very human, very Christian of me. But now I see the duality in myself: a craving for that eternal security and, at the same time, an urge to keep my freedom and choose my own path whenever I want."

"Do you think… your feelings for me might change?" Eric asked, his voice edged with fear.

"Actually no, not by choice," Sookie said, holding his gaze. "I believe you could make my feelings shift, that you could hurt me, and I'm terrified I won't be able to…"

"Run from me?" Eric finished softly, an almost imperceptible red gleam in his eyes. "You think everything I've done has been to hurt you in the end? That I'll grow bored? That I planned to win your heart just to break it?" He sighed. "Sookie, vampires almost never let themselves fall in love, because we feel everything far more intensely than other species—even fairies. And once we fall, it's nearly impossible to stop. Our bonds are also rare and permanent, but because our intensity makes us extremely vulnerable. My existence… is tied to yours, Sookie. I can't harm you—which I don't want to—without destroying myself."

Sookie listened to every word, her heart catching on the phrase "fall in love." A month ago, they'd made a pact—Eric would tell her directly if his feelings ever deepened that far. The irony wasn't lost on her. Here she sat, her own love for him burning like a secret flame she'd only recently acknowledged to herself, yet hadn't found the courage to speak aloud.

"I swear it," he whispered, his cool palms framing her face like she was something precious, his lips brushing hers with the restraint of centuries. "The pain I caused before... never again, not by my choice. And Sookie—" his thumbs traced her cheekbones, eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch "—should you ever wish to leave, I won't use our bonds to keep you. Your happiness matters more to me than anything else."

Eric's promise settled over Sookie like a warm blanket, easing the tightness in her chest. Something shifted inside her—a door unlocking just a fraction more.

The fire crackled as they nestled together on the sofa, their conversation drifting to New Orleans while some forgotten show flickered on the television. Eric's cool fingers traced lazy patterns along her skin.

"So, you're coming to New Orleans with me?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Sookie nodded. "Yes, I'll come, but I'm staying at Amelia's. Being surrounded by vampires while I'm practically wearing eau de fairy doesn't seem smart." Her laugh was soft but nervous.

Eric's fingers paused. "Even at Amelia's, you'll be vulnerable. New Orleans isn't under my ruling."

"Then assign whatever guards you need to," Sookie said, meeting his gaze. "I don't want you distracted during whatever's coming, worrying about me."

His eyes darkened. "If anything happened to you, I'd know it instantly and still be distracted."

"Eric," Sookie said, lifting her chin, "Don't underestimate me. I've got my own light to throw if things get dicey." She wiggled her fingers, a faint shimmer dancing between them.

Eric's mouth twitched. "Tomorrow at 7, then. Pam's coming with us."

"On what, your fancy car?" Sookie asked.

"My jet." He said it casually, as if mentioning a bicycle.

"A jet?" Sookie's eyebrows shot up. "Since when do you have a private plane?"

"Since I spent five years searching every corner of this world for you." His voice was soft but matter-of-fact. "Flying commercial became... inefficient."

Sookie tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, but Eric caught it. The weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders, her eyelids growing heavy despite her desire to keep him close.

"Sleep," Eric murmured, gathering her into his arms. "I'll stay until the sun threatens."

She nodded against his chest as he carried her to bed. His cool fingers stroked her hair, his unnecessary breath matching the rhythm of hers until she drifted off.

In the last violet moments before dawn, Eric secured the house, pressed his lips to her forehead, and left a folded note beside her. He lingered at the doorway, watching her one last time before slipping away.

Sookie woke to sunlight painting golden rectangles across her quilt. The house was silent, but Eric's scent lingered on her skin, in her sheets, in her quilt. Her fingers found the note before her eyes fully opened.

Lover,

I watched you sleep this morning. Your face so peaceful, so unlike the stubborn fighter who challenges me at every turn. It made me smile.

Each breath I took of your sunshine scent, each moment feeling your warmth against my cold skin, has only deepened what I cannot deny: I am yours. The thought of leaving your side, even briefly, has become almost unbearable.

Dawn forced me away, but know this separation pains me.

Hours until nightfall. Hours until I see you again. This alone sustains me.

Tell me everything about your day when I return.

Until tonight,

E

Sookie folded the letter and pressed it to her chest, where her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. "Damn it," she whispered to the empty room. She was falling even harder for him.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had a busy day ahead, and who knew how long she'd be away in New Orleans. After a quick bath and quicker breakfast, she headed to the old Merlotte's, arriving just before the contractors' lunch break.

Sookie traced her finger along the blueprint, then looked up at the exposed skeleton of what would soon be the new Merlotte's. "What about exposed beams right here? I'm thinking we keep this whole area open."

The contractor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. "Absolutely doable. For the ceiling height—"

"Cathedral style," Sookie said, her eyes bright with vision. "With a second-floor balcony wrapping around for intimate seating, while keeping the main floor open for larger parties and a dance floor."

"Smart layout. Where do you want the office space and alcohol storage?"

"South corner," Sookie said, pointing. "Keeps the bottles cool naturally." She smiled, running her hand along a rough support beam. Here she was, rebuilding something she'd thought lost forever. Sam had signed over complete creative control—his way of celebrating her miraculous return. The gesture meant more than he could know.

The sun beat down on the metal tables outside Lala's food truck, where Sookie met Tara and Lafayette for lunch. The familiar scent of Lafayette's signature spice blend hung in the air.

"So you're jetting off to New Orleans with Mr. Tall, Blond and Undead," Tara said, dabbing a napkin at the corner of her mouth where a smear of mayo clung. "When should we expect you back?"

Sookie poked at her coleslaw. "A couple days, hopefully. But if things drag on... I can't just leave Eric there alone. And Amelia—"

"Bitch, don't even worry 'bout that house yours," Lafayette waved a hand adorned with three silver rings. "We got ya covered."

Tara nodded. "Those contractors won't know what hit 'em if I have to step in."

"Y'all are the best," Sookie squeezed their hands across the table.

Tara's eyes narrowed playfully. "Now hold up. Last I heard, you stormed into Fangtasia ready to throw down because your vampire was cozied up with some other vampire bitch. Now you're road-tripping together?"

"That was just..." Sookie busied herself adjusting her napkin. "A misunderstanding."

"Mmm-hmm," Lafayette hummed, one eyebrow arched impossibly high. "Misunderstandin' that got cleared up horizontal-style, I bet, hooka."

"Ain't that always the way," Tara clinked her sweet tea against Lafayette's.

Sookie's cheeks flamed as if she'd just downed one of Lafayette's five-alarm hot sauces.

"But we're good, Eric and me." Sookie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Good?" Tara's eyebrow arched. "Girl, what exactly are we calling this arrangement?"

Sookie traced the condensation on her glass. "It's not like we haven't had the 'what are we' talk. He's comfortable being called as whatever I want to call him. Boyfriend sounds so... high school. And at the same time, he's more than—" She gestured vaguely with her hands.

Lafayette's eyes met Tara's, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "Mmm-hmm. When a man buys a private jet to find somebody, that ain't just dating, hooka. That's till-death-do-us-part territory."

Sweet tea sprayed from Sookie's mouth before she could catch it with her napkin.

"Lord," Tara laughed, sliding more napkins her way. "32 years old and still can't handle her liquids around us."

The food truck's shadow stretched long across the pavement as the afternoon waned. Lafayette had returned to his grill, leaving Sookie and Tara alone at their metal table, empty glasses between them.

"So this third blood exchange," Tara said, lowering her voice. "That's like vampire marriage, right?"

Sookie traced a pattern in the condensation rings on the table. "Not precisely, there's another ritual that is more like a marriage. This is just a blood tie, but permanent."

"Look, I want you happy, but..." Tara leaned forward, eyes serious. "Five years ago, Eric was cold, manipulative. Now he's writing you love notes? People don't change their core, Sook."

"Maybe they don't change," Sookie said. "Maybe they reveal." She twisted a napkin between her fingers. "What if this is who he's always been, underneath? After all, you don't go around showing your most sensitive side to everyone on the street on any given day, right?"

Tara's finger circled the rim of her empty bowl. "Just... test the waters before you dive in. Forever's a mighty long time, especially for someone with fairy blood."

Sookie twisted the napkin tighter between her fingers. "That's the thing. What if I'm bound to him forever and then..." She trailed off, staring at the condensation rings on the table. "Claudine says even these bonds can be broken, but that feels like planning for failure, you know? I don't want an escape hatch. I want to be sure."

"What about kids, Sook?" Tara's voice softened. "You used to keep that baby name book by your bed. Eric can't give you that."

Sookie's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That was the old me. And before you ask—no, Eric didn't talk me out of it."

Tara leaned back, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. "Never thought I'd hear that from you."

"I've got fairy royalty in my blood, Tara." Sookie's eyes lit up with something new—possibility. "I could live for centuries. Travel everywhere. Use these powers I barely understand." Her fingers splayed across the table. "A baby just doesn't fit into that picture anymore."

"Well, you know I've never wanted them either," Tara shrugged. "Just never expected you to join my team."

Sookie gave a half-smile. "People can change, Tara."

The afternoon sun was gone when Sookie hugged Tara goodbye and waved to Lafayette through the food truck window. She had just an hour before Eric would arrive, barely enough time to pack and perform Claudine's scent-masking ritual.

Back home, she tossed a few essentials into her weekend bag. New Orleans would be warmer, but still winter. She laid out jeans, her worn-in sneakers, and the butter-soft leather jacket Eric had once complimented. Four days' worth of clothes seemed enough—Amelia would have anything else she might need.

At 6:50 p.m., Sookie positioned herself before the bedroom mirror, where magic always came easier to her. Claudine's words echoed in her mind: "Work where you feel most centered." Her fingers traced delicate patterns in the air, weaving an invisible shield that would contain her fairy essence—that honeyed scent that drove vampires wild and had nearly gotten her killed more times than she cared to count.

The doorbell's chime startled her just as she completed the final gesture. Right on time—6:55 sharp. Only Eric, with his European precision, would arrive exactly five minutes before when expected. She smiled, smoothing her hair. Southerners understood the grace period of "fashionably late," but after centuries in the US, Eric Northman still hadn't embraced that particular American custom.

Sookie grabbed her bag and headed for the front door as she turned off the lights and locked the doors.

Sookie opened the door, her smile blooming wide. "Hello, you."

Eric materialized in the entryway, his shoulders rigid. He gripped her upper arms, leaned in and inhaled deeply along her neck, his nostrils flaring. "Something's wrong."

"Eric—" Sookie twisted in his grasp, palms flat against his chest.

His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating as he searched her face. "Your scent is altered. What happened?" The question came out low, almost wounded.

A laugh bubbled from Sookie's throat. "Relax. I cast a masking spell for my fairy essence. Just playing it safe."

Eric's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the marble-pale skin. "I've grown accustomed to your scent."

"So I'm just a perfume to you now?" One eyebrow arched delicately.

In a fluid motion, he backed her against the wall, his large hands finding her waist. "Don't be ridiculous. But your scent is..." His voice dropped. "It's the first thing I recognized as uniquely yours."

"And now?" Her chin tilted upward.

"You're still Sookie." His thumb traced her collarbone. "But it's jarring."

"Jarring enough to dampen your interest?"

Eric stepped back, frustration flashing across his features. "That's absurd. I just—" He raked fingers through his hair. "Never mind. The spell was prudent."

"Is it that bad?" Sookie's voice hitched slightly.

Eric's nostrils flared once more and his fingers brushed her cheek. "It's the absence that unsettles me. Like walking into a room where music has just been silenced."

He lifted her weekend bag with one hand and laced his fingers through hers with the other, guiding her through the doorway toward the gleaming black car waiting in the darkness.

Pam leaned against the handrail of the private jet's stairs when Eric's car pulled up to the small airfield.

"Seven minutes past the hour," she called down, tapping her wrist where a watch would be.

Eric's jaw tightened. "Are you timing me now?"

Pam rolled her eyes and her smirk vanished as Sookie emerged from the passenger side. Her nostrils flared once, twice, then her eyes narrowed to slits.

Inside, Sookie ran her fingers along the cream leather seats and mahogany paneling. The cabin gleamed with understated luxury—all clean lines and muted colors—but something about it felt unexpectedly inviting, like walking into a home rather than transportation.

The captain appeared with a slight bow. "We'll reach New Orleans in seventy-five minutes, Mr. Northman" Eric just nodded and took his seat in front of Sookie's.

Pam stepped between them, her gaze darting from Eric to Sookie. "Something's off." She circled Sookie like a predator assessing altered prey. "You've gone blank."

Sookie crossed her arms. "Noticed that, did you?"

"Hard not to." Pam leaned in, inhaling deeply near Sookie's neck, then pulled back with a grimace. "Did your fairy godmother revoke your magical privileges, or is this some new party trick?"

Eric's lips twitched. "Disconcerting, isn't it?"

"Profoundly," Pam muttered, still circling.

Sookie threw up her hands. "For heaven's sake! Is that all I am to you vampires? Some walking bottle of fairy perfume?"

Pam stopped, one perfectly arched eyebrow rising. "Hardly, Tinkerbell. But when you've spent years learning the exact notes of someone's essence—" she tapped a finger against her temple, "—its absence becomes rather... unsettling."

"There," Eric gestured toward Pam with an open palm. "I'm not alone in this."

Sookie traced a finger along the leather armrest, watching Eric's face. "I'll need to keep the masking spell active while we're in New Orleans, but seeing how it affects you..." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a honeyed drawl. "I might just keep it in my back pocket for when you misbehave." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Consider yourself warned, Viking."

Eric's fingers dug into the leather armrests, his knuckles whitening as a low growl escaped his throat. The absence of her scent left him disoriented, like a navigator suddenly stripped of his North Star. Her blood still responded to her presence—still hummed with recognition—but the melody had changed.

Yet even as the discomfort crawled beneath his skin, he recognized the truth: his devotion to Sookie transcended her fairy essence. What bound him to her ran deeper than any intoxicating perfume could explain.

Pam settled into her seat as the jet lifted into the night sky. The small aircraft bucked and shuddered through pockets of winter turbulence, each drop making Sookie's stomach lurch dangerously. She gripped the armrests, swallowing hard against the rising bile in her throat, imagining Eric's face if she decorated his pristine private jet with the remnants of her lunch. The thought alone nearly undid her composure.

As soon as the plane touched down, Sookie felt nothing but relief that the trip had been both short and turbulent—any longer and she'd have been undone. She'd already coordinated with Amelia: Eric would escort her to Amelia's apartment, then continue on to Sophie-Anne's palace, nestled in New Orleans' most prestigious, if not entirely secluded, neighborhood. The palace and Amelia's flat were barely ten minutes apart.

A sleek limousine idled at the curb. Sookie, still queasy, didn't bother finding out whether it was sent by Sophie-Anne or was one of Eric's own arrangements.

Eric's jaw was tight as he helped her through the door once they stopped outside Amelia's place. He wasn't entirely comfortable leaving her behind in unfamiliar territory, but he trusted Amelia implicitly—who knew exactly how much Sookie meant to him.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked again, his hand lingering on hers.

"Absolutely," Sookie replied, brushing her fingers against his cheek. "You need to stay focused. Keep your eyes open and your mind clear."

Amelia appeared beside them. "Don't worry, Viking," she said, arching an eyebrow and winking at Eric. "I'll take good care of her." Sookie didn't catch the wink, but Eric's relieved expression said it all.

With a long, held-back sigh, Eric cradled Sookie's face and pressed his lips to hers. He held the kiss until her breaths came in short gasps and Amelia cleared her throat softly.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "I've fallen for you, Sookie. Remember that at all times."

Sookie smiled, warmed by his public confession. He was literally admitting he was in love with her, for the first time. From inside the limo, Pam must have heard every word—Sookie could almost hear her amused snort.

"Everything will be fine. I'll see you…?" Sookie prompted.

"Just before dawn," Eric promised. He kissed her forehead once more, and with Amelia's arm around her, Sookie entered the hall of the building. When he watched them safely inside, Eric sank back and the limousine carried him toward Sophie-Anne's palace.

"Spit it out, Pam." Eric's voice cut through the silence of the limo.

"It's worse than we anticipated." Pam's voice dropped to a whisper. "We have compelling evidence that certain sheriffs have defected. They may make their move during the summit. Sophie-Anne has been informed."

"And my request?" Eric's gaze flicked to the travel bag between them.

Pam unzipped the bag just enough to reveal its content. "Wood stakes, silver bullets, and that old sword you're so fond of."

"Perfect. Keep this from Sookie at all costs." Eric's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "She has enough on her mind."

"When have I ever been indiscreet?"

Eric's eyes softened momentarily. "I appreciate your loyalty."

"Always, Master" Pam nodded with a bow.

Eric turned toward the tinted window, his reflection ghostlike against the passing streetlights. "Let's hope our precautions prove unnecessary."

Chapter Text

Chapter 24. Intuition

Sophie-Anne's palace remained a shrine to Golden Age Hollywood—all velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, and crystal chandeliers that would have made Marilyn Monroe feel right at home. The opulence that once seemed like her birthright now felt like evidence for the prosecution. Her fellow monarchs maintained similar extravagance, but Sophie-Anne's taste was the first thing her enemies pointed to when they whispered of her excesses.

Tonight, the queen's legendary poise had abandoned her. Her shoulders hunched slightly as she paced, her usual regal glide replaced by quick, nervous steps. Even with Hadley—now pale and immortal since Sookie's disappearance, a transformation Eric had conveniently failed to mention—hovering protectively at her elbow, Sophie-Anne's eyes darted around her own throne room like a cornered animal.

"Eric!" Sophie-Anne's voice lifted with unmistakable relief. She glided toward him, her fingers fluttering at her sides. The Viking towered in the doorway, golden-haired and impassive, the only sheriff in her kingdom who never flinched at her moods.

"Your Majesty," Eric executed a perfect bow, the movement fluid despite his height. "Pam accompanies me tonight," he added, gesturing to the blonde vampire beside him.

Pam mirrored his bow with practiced precision. "Your Majesty."

"Of course, of course." Sophie-Anne's laugh came too quickly, too high. "I welcome all the protection I can get these days."

From her position behind the queen, Hadley's nostrils flared slightly. The scent of one day old clinging to Eric was unmistakable—sunshine and honey, with that specific note that belonged only to her cousin. Her eyes locked with his, questions burning in them, but Sophie-Anne's presence sealed her lips. The queen had stopped mentioning Sookie years ago, and tonight was not the night to resurrect ghosts.

Eric caught Hadley's pointed stare and offered her a measured smile.

"Hadley, immortality suits you," he said with a formal nod.

"Doesn't it though?" Sophie-Anne seized Hadley's cheek between thumb and forefinger, giving it a possessive squeeze. Hadley's smile tightened at the corners as she endured the queen's touch.

The bond between maker and progeny was barely three years old, though their affair had begun long before the night Sophie-Anne was forced to turn her human pet rather than surrender her to enemies who would have drained her dry. For all her diamonds and rubies, Hadley remained the queen's most treasured possession—a fact that seemed to escape Sophie-Anne's notice as much as Hadley's lukewarm affections.

Eric recalled the day Hadley had sought him out, desperation in her eyes as she begged him to watch over her son Hunter. The boy shared Sookie's bloodline—and her gift. Eric had agreed, not for Hadley's sake, but because in those desolate years, anything connected to Sookie had become sacred. The child had become a talisman of sorts, keeping hope alive when logic insisted she was lost forever.

Now that Sookie had returned, Eric dreaded the inevitable moment when she would ask about the cousin who had vanished from her life—and the nephew she had met once.

Sophie-Anne's voice sliced through Eric's memories. "You've arrived before the others." Her crimson nails dug half-moons into her palms. "We have precious little time, and you—only you, Eric—have my complete confidence." Eric inclined his head, his smile deliberately measured, a silent offering of stability to the fracturing queen.

"Our sources in Arkansas report whispers of rebellion," Pam said, her cool voice slicing through the heavy silence. "No names yet, but the embers are there." She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the room. "When Your Majesty married King Peter, then Andre dispatched him for his... territorial ambitions, it left certain loyalties in question." She examined her manicure with practiced nonchalance. "The Arkansas sheriffs who once knelt to a king who hunted in Walmart now answer to a queen who bathes in Cristal. One might expect some... adjustment difficulties." Eric suppressed a smile at Pam's assessment. Andre's absence from court these past months had been a welcome reprieve—one less serpent to watch in Sophie-Anne's nest of vipers.

"Merciful heavens," Sophie-Anne murmured, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm across the marble floor.

Hadley intercepted her, fingers kneading the tension in the queen's shoulders until Sophie-Anne wrenched away, darting to Eric's side. "Could they strike tonight? Here?" The question tumbled from her lips, fear bleeding into every syllable.

"Or tomorrow night," Eric replied, his tone solemn yet assured. "But we stand as your shield, Your Majesty. This I vow." The pledge was no empty platitude—they had arrived armed for battle.

A fleeting regret crossed Eric's mind: Thalia's absence. The ancient warrior would have been invaluable for the coming storm.

"Perhaps you'd care to refresh yourselves before we begin?" Sophie-Anne gestured toward a side door where a cluster of attractive humans waited, their necks bare and pulses visible even from across the room.

Eric's tongue slid unconsciously across his fangs, but the memory of Sookie's sunlit taste still lingered in his mouth. His hunger remained dormant.

"Your Majesty is most generous," he replied with a slight bow. "Though I require nothing at present. Pam, however..." He glanced at his progeny, whose eyes had already fixed on a redhead among the waiting donors.

"Turning down a meal, Northman?" Sophie-Anne's voice sharpened. "I need my favorite sheriff at full strength."

Eric's face remained impassive. "I fed well before leaving home, Your Majesty."

Hadley's eyes narrowed, studying the Viking vampire with newfound intensity. Something in his posture, the way he held himself—different, somehow. And that scent...

"As you wish," Sophie-Anne sighed. "Pam, join me?"

The queen guided Pam toward the waiting donors, their footsteps fading across marble. Hadley stepped closer to Eric, her voice barely above a whisper.

"She's returned, hasn't she?"

Eric's eyebrow arched. "What makes you say that?"

Hadley's laugh was brittle. "Please. Her sunshine clings to you like perfume." She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. "I can even smell traces of her blood beneath your skin. No wonder you've lost your appetite for... alternatives."

Eric's shoulders tensed beneath his leather jacket. "Hadley, what you suspect... it must remain between us."

"Christ, Eric, she's my fucking maker. One command and I'd spill every secret I have." Hadley glanced toward the donor room. "Some things are safer left unconfirmed."

"Then we understand each other."

Hadley's fingers brushed her collarbone absently. "Sophie-Anne has forgotten enough about—" She stopped herself, swallowing the name. Her eyes met Eric's, glistening with sudden emotion. "But I haven't. Not her laugh. Not anything." A crimson droplet traced down Hadley's pale cheek. "I miss her".

Eric's stern face softened. "I know, Hadley. I know." Sometimes no further words were necessary and they both knew that.

"What's the plan?" Amelia asked as Sookie sank into the plush cushions.

Sookie ran her fingers along the velvet armrest. "This place is something else. I knew you had money, but this is worthy of a millionaire," Sookie said.

"Maybe I have a little more money than I let on," Amelia winked.

Sookie laughed. "I need food, but somewhere close." Sookie pressed her palm against her sternum. "Something feels off. I want to stay near Eric."

"There's this little French bistro just down from Sophie-Anne's compound." Amelia tilted her head. "Wait—can you feel him? Like, vampire-telepathy style?"

"No, I mean... not entirely. But there's something. Not thoughts or feelings exactly. More like...shadows passing over me."

"Beyond my expertise," Amelia shrugged. "What are these sensations telling you?"

"Danger? Tension? I can't translate it." Sookie rubbed her arms. "Just leaves me jumpy."

"We could order in. Keep you from broadcasting anxiety his way."

Sookie stood, straightening her dress. "No, I need the distraction. Besides, when will I get another chance to see the real New Orleans?"

"That's the spirit!" Amelia grabbed her purse and Sookie's elbow in one swift motion. "Let's go before you change your mind."

Sookie breathed in the scent of butter and garlic wafting through the bistro. Elegant chairs, vintage posters, and waiters who called everyone "mademoiselle" or "monsieur"—this was how she'd always imagined Paris.

She picked at her coq au vin, her fork scraping porcelain more often than spearing food. Her appetite had vanished despite her hunger.

Later, their heels clicked against cobblestones as they strolled through the Garden District. Streetlamps cast golden pools across manicured lawns of mansions. The night air hung heavy with jasmine.

"See? Perfectly safe," Amelia whispered, gesturing to the empty sidewalks.

As they rounded the corner near Sophie-Anne's compound, Sookie stumbled. A sharp, twisting pain bloomed beneath her breastbone.

"Sook?" Amelia caught her elbow. "Was it the wine?"

Sookie pressed her palm against her chest, biting her lip to keep from gasping. She glanced toward the mansion's iron gates where two figures stood motionless in the shadows.

"Eric," she whispered. "Something's happening in there."

"You can't just waltz into vampire headquarters," Amelia hissed, nodding discreetly toward their own guards trailing twenty paces behind.

"He needs me, Amelia."

"What he needs is to focus without worrying about you getting drained." Amelia's fingers tightened. "I'll have them carry you back if necessary." Indicating the bodyguards behind them.

The pain intensified. Sookie doubled over, clutching her midsection, sweat beading on her forehead. She straightened with effort, gripping Amelia's shoulders.

"I'm going in there," she said through gritted teeth. "With or without your help."

Amelia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. But we're doing this smart. Back to the apartment first—maybe Claudine can help." Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "And for God's sake, stop broadcasting distress signals to every vampire within a mile radius."

Sookie's fingers trembled as she pressed her phone to her ear. "Claudine, I need your help—" A rush of displaced air cut her off as Claudine materialized beside the coffee table, her tall frame casting a long shadow across Amelia's Persian rug.

"Summoned twice in one week," Claudine said, smoothing her immaculate white dress. "I should start charging overtime."

"I didn't mean for you to—"

"Drop everything and appear?" Claudine's eyebrow arched. "When my goddaughter plans to march into vampire headquarters? Yes, I did." Claudine's eyes flashed. "That scent-masking spell wasn't meant for suicide missions. Sophie-Anne's barely forgotten her obsession with you, and now you want to announce your return?"

Sookie's shoulders slumped.

Sookie sank onto the sofa. "Eric's in danger."

From her pink velvet armchair, Amelia snorted. "We've been through this already, she's determined".

"What exactly are you sensing?" Claudine perched beside Sookie, her expression softening.

Sookie pressed her palm against her sternum. "Flashes. Warnings. Like someone's whispering directly into my chest."

"But you haven't completed the third blood exchange with Eric?"

"No. That's why it doesn't make sense."

Claudine's fingers tapped a thoughtful rhythm against her knee. "Your fairy heritage changes things. When you gave yourself to him—"

"But I haven't done any fairy ceremony—"

"Sometimes the heart chooses before ritual confirms," Claudine said. "Or... what you're experiencing might be fairy intuition—a rare gift that manifests in those with powerful minds. Like yours."

"It's like someone's whispering warnings directly into my blood," Sookie said, her fingers splayed across her chest. "Flashes of silver chains. A stake. Eric pinned against marble. I can't explain it, but I know he needs me to get him out. Now."

Amelia leaned forward, her bracelets clinking against the coffee table. "Eric Northman has survived a thousand years of vampire politics. He'd rather lose a fang than be rescued from a royal court."

"Tell that to whatever's burning a hole through my sternum," Sookie whispered.

"I could transport you there," Claudine said, her voice cool and measured.

Amelia's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"Claudine!" Sookie's eyes widened with hope. "You'd do that?"

Claudine held up one elegant finger. "Under my conditions. We move invisibly. We observe first. No heroics." Her gaze swept from Sookie to Amelia. "If you end up drained, I'll have Niall to answer to—not to mention the paperwork."

Amelia threw her hands up, her rings catching the lamplight. "Perfect. Suicide by vampire royalty. Just how I wanted to spend my evening."

"You're staying here," Sookie said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I can't risk another life in there."

Amelia's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Fine. I'll just have to monitor the situation remotely."

She disappeared down the hallway, her footsteps quick against the hardwood. When she returned, something glinted between her fingers—a delicate silver chain suspending an amethyst that caught the light in deep purple waves.

"Wear this," she said, fastening it around Sookie's neck. "It's enchanted. Whatever you see, I see. And if things go sideways..." Her fingers brushed the stone. "Let's just say I have resources beyond what vampires might expect."

"One more thing," Claudine said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If we're separated, you'll need an escape route." She took Sookie's hands in hers, the fairy's skin cool as moonlight. "Close your eyes. Feel the air thinning around you."

She guided Sookie through a series of hand gestures and whispered incantations. The air shimmered around Sookie's fingertips as she practiced, disappearing from one corner of the room and reappearing beside the window in a blink.

"Good," Claudine nodded, extending her slender hand. "Your fae blood is strong tonight. Ready?" he asked Sookie, taking her hand.

"As ready as I can be," she replied, tucking a wooden stake into her bra, feeling its weight against her skin.

"Good luck!" Exclaimed Amelia as they disappeared.

Chapter Text

A/N: Personally, I loved writing this chapter.

Chapter 25: Saving you, saving us.

Sheriffs filed into the throne room in pairs, each accompanied by their second-in-command. No one risked coming alone tonight.

Eric and Pam flanked Sophie-Anne, scrutinizing each vampire who approached the queen, searching for the telltale flicker of betrayal in cold eyes.

"Everything in place?" Eric's voice barely disturbed the air between them.

Pam nodded. "Talia will arrive shortly. Her reputation precedes her. They'll understand her presence immediately." She cut her eyes toward him. "You realize that?"

"Tell her to keep her distance until necessary," Eric said.

Only the Ancient Pythones outranked Talia in age among American vampires. The Greek warrior had survived three and a half millennia of bloodshed not by avoiding battles, but by winning them. Eric cursed his oversight in not summoning her earlier, though her proximity—barely an hour and a half journey away—somewhat eased his self-reproach.

As midnight approached, tension coiled within him. Despite being centuries older than most in attendance—including Sophie-Anne herself—the weight of what was coming pressed upon him. Having Talia's ancient eyes watching the room would be... reassuring.

Sophie-Anne perched at the edge of her throne, extending a pale hand to each approaching sheriff. Twenty vampires in all—ten sheriffs with their seconds—filed past her in a grim procession. Her smile remained fixed, her posture perfect, but her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly when she withdrew from each cold greeting. The Arkansas contingent exchanged glances, their loyalty to their fallen king evident in their stiff bows and averted eyes.

Eric watched her performance with a mixture of pity and frustration. A capable enough queen in matters of state, perhaps, but her personal entanglements and decisions had become political liabilities. Her desperate need for approval hung in the air like cheap perfume. He straightened his shoulders, grateful for his own indifference to others' opinions. Centuries had taught him one immutable truth: power demanded respect, not affection.

The last sheriff took his place, and Sophie-Anne glided to her throne. Her porcelain fingers gripped the ornate armrests as she surveyed the gathering.

"My dear ones," she purred, voice carrying to every corner without effort. "Your presence honors me, particularly in these... uncertain times." Her gaze lingered on the Arkansas contingent. "The loyalty shown by those who served Peter—may he rest in darkness—strengthens us all."

A calculated pause. "I've summoned you because whispers of an impending attack have reached the court."

The room rippled with murmurs. Eric noted which vampires exchanged glances, which remained too still, which feigned surprise with widened eyes.

Sophie-Anne rose, drifting to the center of the marble floor. Her movements betrayed none of the anxiety Eric knew churned beneath her composed exterior.

"Our united kingdoms will not falter," she declared. "My intelligence network has already begun identifying those who would threaten what we've built. Disloyalty will be met with... finality."

Eric found himself impressed by her authority—until a cold voice cut through the silence.

"And whose coffers fund this 'intelligence network,' Your Majesty?" Quentin Wells, Arkansas Area 1, stepped forward. "The kingdom's treasury wasn't consulted on such expenditures."

Sophie-Anne's eyebrow arched delicately, her mind visibly sorting through centuries of memories to place this challenger.

Eric caught Pam's eye with the barest tilt of his head. Quentin Wells—European-born, seven centuries old, outranking even Sophie-Anne herself—had just revealed his hand in the coming coup.

"The throne requires no permission to safeguard what belongs to it." Sophie-Anne's lips curved into what might have been mistaken for a smile, though her eyes remained glacial. Her fingers tapped once against her thigh—the only sign of her contained fury.

Eric stood motionless as marble, cataloging every twitch and glance that passed between the gathered vampires. The political chess match unfolding before him revealed more in silence than in words.

"Your Majesty acts within ancient right when defending our collective security," offered the Louisiana Area Two sheriff, his voice carrying the practiced neutrality of centuries-old political survival.

"Louisiana has grown accustomed to mismanagement. Arkansas has higher standards," replied the sheriff from Area Three, his voice carrying a dangerous edge beneath its courtly veneer.

Eric's jaw tightened imperceptibly. These fools were painting targets on their own backs with every word. Yet they showed no caution, no hesitation in their treachery. Even the youngest vampire present would understand the lethal consequences of challenging a regent so openly before the assembled court.

Their boldness spoke volumes. They weren't concerned about surviving the night—they expected to be the ones deciding who lived and who met true death. The attack wasn't coming; it was already here.

A shimmer of displaced air, and Claudine and Sookie found themselves crouched in what appeared to be a servant's quarters—cramped, but mercifully distant from the vampire gathering. Sookie's fingertips tingled with fairy energy, a sensation that didn't go unnoticed by her godmother, whose lips curved into a tight smile.

"Can you navigate this place?" Claudine whispered, her eyes darting to the closed door.

Sookie shook her head. "Never been here before."

"Stay within arm's reach," Claudine commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Always."

They paused before a gilded mirror in the hallway, confirming their absence in its reflection, then followed the low murmur of voices echoing through the corridor. The invisibility spell cloaked them perfectly—no scent, no shadow, no sound—but Sookie had overlooked one crucial detail: the blood bond that connected her to Eric, pulsing like a beacon only he could detect.

Sookie and Claudine slipped into the great hall just as fangs began to descend and voices rose in barely contained snarls. From their position against the far wall, Sookie caught fragments of whispered plots—Arkansas vampires hissing plans of succession while Sophie-Anne's allies shifted closer to their queen. Only Madelaine Fox, the slender sheriff from Arkansas Area Five, stood apart from her territorial brethren, her posture rigid with disapproval. Whether her reluctance stemmed from feminine loyalty or personal honor remained unclear, but her crossed arms and lifted chin broadcast her refusal to participate in the brewing coup.

Eric's golden hair caught the light as he moved to the queen's right side. Sookie's breath hitched. She tugged Claudine's sleeve, pulling her godmother closer despite her reluctance. The Louisiana sheriffs had formed a protective semicircle around Sophie-Anne, while Eric's long fingers curled around his sword hilt. His ancient eyes, cold as Nordic winters, locked onto Quentin Wells. The message in that predatory stare was unmistakable—the Arkansas sheriff had just signed his own death warrant.

The room fell into a silence so complete that Sookie could hear the distant ticking of an antique clock. Three heartbeats later, the quiet shattered with the sound of splintering wood. Quentin Wells had made his move, lunging for Sophie-Anne's throat with supernatural speed. But Eric was faster. His pale hand locked around Quentin's neck mid-flight, halting the attack with brutal efficiency.

"Unwise," Eric murmured, his fangs descending with an audible click.

At the periphery, Talia materialized beside Pam, her ancient eyes alert, body coiled for Eric's command.

Eric's fingers tightened around Quentin's windpipe. The younger vampire thrashed against his grip, but Eric's millennia of strength rendered the struggle pathetic. Seven centuries of existence meant nothing against Eric's eleven hundred years—especially when those years had been forged in battle, not in the comfort Quentin had known as a human.

"Final words?" Eric's voice was almost gentle.

Quentin's eyes bulged. "That royal whore dies tonight."

Eric's gaze flicked toward Sophie-Anne, awaiting her verdict. Protocol demanded royal permission for a sheriff's execution.

But the moment of hesitation cost them. The sheriffs from Areas Two and Three surged forward, scattering Louisiana's defenders. Sophie-Anne, wide-eyed and trembling on her throne, looked nothing like the queen who had so confidently addressed her court moments before.

The throne room erupted into chaos as the Arkansas deputies lunged toward Louisiana's defenders.

"Talia!" Eric commanded, his grip still vise-like around Quentin's throat.

The Greek vampire moved like liquid shadow. In one fluid motion, she vaulted across the marble floor and materialized at Sophie-Anne's side. Twin stakes flashed in her hands—then plunged into the hearts of the advancing sheriffs. Their bodies crumbled to crimson dust before their faces could register surprise.

Pam joined the fray with predatory grace, centuries younger than the others yet moving with the deadly precision that came from sharing Eric's blood. She dispatched the Area Two's second with almost bored efficiency, while Talia eliminated his Area Three counterpart with equal ease.

Sophie-Anne, her regal composure shattered, scrambled backward until her spine pressed against the wall.

Eric's lip curled slightly as he watched his queen retreat. Eleven centuries had taught him that those who wore crowns rarely possessed the courage to defend them.

The Louisiana forces subdued the remaining sheriff of Area Four and his second without difficulty. Victory seemed at hand until Eric's body went rigid. His nostrils flared as he caught a familiar presence—Sookie's, dangerously close to the bloodshed.

Time stretched like cold honey. Eric's eyes locked with Pam's, a single word escaping his lips: "Sookie." Understanding flashed across Pam's face as she scanned the room, finding nothing but knowing better than to doubt her maker's senses.

Eric's fingers remained clamped around Quentin's throat while his mind raced, following the invisible thread of their blood bond. The sensation of her—so near yet unseen—clawed at his concentration. In that fractured moment of distraction, Quentin's hand shot to Eric's hip, wrenching free the ancient sword and driving it deep into the Viking's abdomen.

Sookie's anguished cry shattered the invisibility spell as she wrenched free from Claudine's grasp and flung herself toward Eric.

Blood gushed from Eric's abdomen as his fingers slipped from Quentin's throat. He staggered backward but never hit the floor. Sookie materialized beneath him, her small hands pressing desperately against the wound, her golden hair shimmering into visibility like dust motes catching sunlight.

Silver bullets tore through Quentin's chest before he could savor his victory. Pam and Talia stood with smoking guns, their faces masks of cold fury.

Talia stalked toward the wounded sheriff while his second lunged to shield his master. With a single, fluid motion, she snapped the deputy's neck and continued her advance. Unlike Eric with his ancient codes of honor, Talia never waited for royal permission to execute traitors. This ruthlessness had earned her centuries of isolation—even among vampires, her brutality was legendary. Yet she had outlived them all, and that vindication was enough. She didn't doubted one second and finished Quentin with her own hands.

Pam rushed to Eric's side, her eyes widening at the sight of her maker supported by arms that were only half-visible.

"Tinkerbell," she hissed through clenched fangs. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Not now, Pam." Sookie pressed her trembling hands harder against Eric's wound. "We need to get him somewhere safe."

Eric's lips, drained of color, parted. "Can't... move." His voice—that voice that had commanded armies—now barely a rasp. Pam's eyes widened; in a millennium, she'd never seen her maker so weakened.

"Claudine," Sookie whispered. The air shimmered beside her as her godmother materialized, still invisible. "Amelia's apartment. Please." Tears carved silvery tracks down Sookie's cheeks. Claudine's heart broke right there at the sight of Sookie's pain.

Pam lunged forward, fangs bared in desperation. "You'll kill him if you take him now. He needs human blood—pints of it—or that wound won't close."

Around them, vampires were turning, nostrils flaring at the scent of ancient blood spilling onto marble. Sookie met Pam's gaze with sudden resolve.

"He can have mine." She gripped Claudine's hand and summoned her fae power.

"Your blood alone won't save him!" Pam's anguished cry followed them as they vanished, leaving only a shimmer of light where they had been. "Fucking fairy!"

With Eric gone, Pam straightened her spine and assumed his authority, her eyes scanning the room with the same cold calculation as her maker.

"Talia." Her voice cut through the lingering tension. "Eric requires substantial blood. Deliver it to this address." She pressed a slip of paper into Talia's palm.

The ancient vampire's nod was barely perceptible. No love existed between her and the Viking, but centuries of mutual survival had forged something stronger than sentiment.

Pam prowled the perimeter, cataloging threats, until satisfied that Sophie-Anne had regained enough composure to function. The queen sat rigid on her throne now, Hadley's fingers laced protectively through hers. Court vampires circled them like satellites, their postures relaxed but vigilant.

From the shadows emerged Arkansas's Area Five Sheriff, who had observed the coup attempt with calculated neutrality. She approached the throne with measured steps, unsheathing an ornate dagger from her hip. The room stilled as she knelt, offering the blade across her palms.

"Blood to blood," she intoned, her voice carrying to every corner. "My loyalty to Her Majesty, Sophie-Anne, Queen of Louisiana and Arkansas."

Sophie-Anne's fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the oath, her eyes still distant with shock. One by one, Louisiana's remaining sheriffs followed, a cascade of blades and promises.

Pam's fingers curled at her sides. The oath belonged to Eric, not her. She leaned close to the queen's ear, her voice low enough that only Sophie-Anne could hear.

"My maker lies wounded. I must attend him. Does Your Majesty require my continued presence?"

Sophie-Anne's fingers tightened around the armrests of her throne. "Go to him," she murmured, her voice catching. "Tell him his queen demands his recovery."

They crashed into Amelia's living room in a tangle of limbs and blood, Eric's massive body nearly crushing Sookie beneath its weight.

"Jesus Christ!" Amelia gasped, scrambling to clear the sofa as Eric's blood splattered across her hardwood floor in crimson arcs.

Claudine pressed herself against the far wall, her ethereal features contorted in agony as Sookie's pain thundered through their fairy bond, nearly bringing her to her knees.

Sookie's hands trembled violently as she tore at her own wrist with her teeth, ripping open her flesh. "Drink!" she commanded, pressing the wound against Eric's blue-tinged lips. His fangs snapped down reflexively, puncturing deeper, and Sookie's back arched as he latched on with desperate strength.

The sound that tore from her throat was primal—half-scream, half-moan—as Eric drained her with savage need, his fingers digging bruises into her arm.

"Sookie, stop him!" Claudine cried out, the fairy light around her flickering in distress.

"I know... I know what I have to do," Sookie's voice cracked, tears streaming down her face. "Eric, baby, please—" Her vision swam, darkness creeping at the edges.

Eric's eyes snapped open—ancient, predatory, yet somehow still him. He wrenched his mouth away, blood streaming down his chin, his gaze locked on hers with feral intensity.

"Eric, listen to me… I'm in love with you," Sookie gasped, seizing his face between her hands. "and I want to be bound to you for as long as our existence allows us."

Before anyone could stop her, Sookie plunged her mouth against the gaping wound in Eric's abdomen, drinking deeply of his thousand-year-old blood. Eric's roar shook the walls as he yanked her wrist back to his mouth, completing their blood circle in a savage communion that made the air around them crackle with power.

Claudine gasped, her fairy sight revealing what Amelia could only glimpse through her witch's perception—the transformation unfolding between vampire and fae. Golden light pulsed beneath Sookie's skin with each swallow of Eric's ancient blood, then flowed outward in luminous tendrils that wrapped around his massive form. His ashen lips flushed crimson as her power infused him, while her blood leapt from her veins to his fangs in rhythmic surges that defied natural physics. Yet Sookie remained strong, her life force replenishing itself even as she gave it freely to him.

Claudine watched the golden light pulsing between them, vampire and fairy bound in an impossible communion, and knew with fairy certainty that fate itself had woven their souls together long before either had drawn breath in this realm. If she ever had any doubts on this match, now all of that had dissipated.

The blood exchange locked them together like twin stars collapsing into each other, their bodies trembling with shared power. As Eric's wound knitted closed, muscle and sinew reforming beneath Sookie's gaze, she felt her own veins singing with ancient strength. His fangs retracted from her wrist with a sound like silk tearing.

Sookie lunged forward, crushing her mouth against his with such force their teeth clashed. Her tears fell hot between them, tasting of salt and copper as Eric devoured them with desperate kisses. His hands gripped her face with bruising intensity, thumbs pressing into her cheekbones as if to memorize her through touch alone.

"Mine," Eric growled against her mouth, the word vibrating through her bones.

Sookie's body arched against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I felt you dying," she gasped, voice breaking. "I felt you slipping away from me."

"Never again," he vowed, his eyes burning electric blue. "What you've given me–nothing in a thousand years has made me this powerful."

The doorbell's chime cut through the moment. Amelia disappeared and returned moments later with a procession—Talia first, then two pale humans with vacant expressions, and finally Pam, whose perfect composure faltered at the threshold.

"Reinforcements have arrived," Amelia said dryly.

Eric pulled Sookie against him on the sofa, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her shoulder. He watched with quiet amusement as both Pam and Talia froze, their gazes locked on his unmarred torso visible through the blood-crusted tear in his shirt.

"Your concern is touching," Eric said, pressing his lips to Sookie's temple, "but it seems my fairy has rendered your donors redundant."

"What. The. Fuck." Pam's perfect eyebrows arched toward her hairline.

Eric's fingers traced possessive patterns across Sookie's skin, his eyes never leaving Pam's. "The explanation will come later. For now, return the donors with our gratitude." He shifted, drawing Sookie closer against him. "Tell Sophie-Anne I've arranged suitable quarters elsewhere for my recovery. Verify her security, then join us—unless the Queen requires additional protection." His tone softened, almost imperceptibly. "Should she inquire, emphasize your concern for my condition rather than any dissatisfaction with her accommodations."

Talia and Pam exchanged glances, their centuries of existence offering no context for what they'd witnessed. Nevertheless, they inclined their heads in synchronized acquiescence and ushered the blank-faced humans toward the door.

"You need a secure place for your daytime rest," Sookie said, her voice steady. "And I refuse to let you out of my sight after this."

Eric's lips curved into a tender smile."The Hotel Camille has light-tight suites for vampires. We'll go there."

"Well, Viking," Claudine said, stepping forward with fairy grace, "it seems you've survived another night." She turned to Sookie, taking her hands with cool fingers. "Cousin, I'm glad you called for me. I couldn't let you face such danger alone."

Something flickered across Claudine's perfect features—a shadow of sadness—but before Sookie could question it, the fairy was already withdrawing.

"I'll find you tomorrow," Claudine promised, her form shimmering at the edges before dissolving into the air like morning mist.

Eric rose to his full height, his massive frame casting a shadow across the room. "Amelia." His voice was low but carried the unmistakable authority of centuries. "Your hospitality won't be forgotten. The guards will remain stationed here until sunrise—not that I anticipate trouble, but after tonight's events..." He glanced at the bloodstains marring her floor. "Dawn will see them replaced with Sookie's daylight detail. They'll shadow you both, provided you ladies have plans together."

"Oh, we definitely will. And when we do," Amelia's eyes darted meaningfully to the bloodstains on her floor, then back to Sookie's face with a raised eyebrow, "you're spilling out explanaitions about what happened here."

Sookie pressed her lips together in a guilty half-smile, nodding as she squeezed her friend's hand. "Thank you, Ames".

Eric slung Sookie's bag over his shoulder with one hand while the other tapped out a message on his phone, his eyes never leaving the door as he ushered her toward the threshold. "We need to move, lover."

The same sleek limousine from the airport waited at the curb, its engine purring softly in the night. They rode to the hotel in silence, fingers laced together on the leather seat between them, the weight of what they'd just shared hanging in the air.

The elevator ascended with a whisper, stopping at the highest floor. Eric guided her forward with his palm against the small of her back.

"The penthouse?" Sookie shook her head, taking in the gilded hallway. "Let me guess—you arranged this while I was still packing back at home?"

A smile played at the corner of Eric's mouth. "I made the arrangements on my way to Sophie-Anne's," he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "My people had instructions to bring you here if anything... unfortunate... had happened tonight."

"Unfortunate?" Sookie's voice cracked as she yanked her hand from his. "If you had died tonight, I wouldn't be checking into some fancy hotel. I'd be hunting down whoever did it with a shovel and a stake. How little you know me".

"I've lived a whole existence making an habit of underestimating humans. With you, I keep forgetting to learn my lesson." His lips found hers, soft and swift, before she could argue the point.

Sookie pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her breath warm against his cool lips. "Well, I'm not human, so you better learn quick".

Eric set their bags side by side near the door, his own things having arrived earlier at his request.

Sookie drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. New Orleans sprawled below, a tapestry of lights pulsing with an energy she could almost taste on her tongue.

His hands found her waist, cool fingers spanning her hipbones.

"What you sacrificed tonight," he murmured against her hair, his breath stirring golden strands.

She turned within his embrace, pressing her palms against his chest. "Don't. You would have bled yourself dry for me without hesitation."

"Yes. But the third exchange—" His jaw tightened. "I never meant to force your hand. I know you did it so I couldn't drain you"

Something unfamiliar bloomed beneath Sookie's breastbone before she could answer—a tangle of emotions not her own. Guilt like ash in her mouth. Regret sharp as broken glass. And beneath it all, a current of devotion so deep it stole her breath.

She stepped back, just enough to study his face. "So this is what you meant."

"I warned you." His voice was carefully neutral.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. "It's beautiful," she whispered, vision blurring. "Not what you're feeling—though don't you dare feel guilty—but that I can feel you here." She pressed her hand to her heart, tears spilling freely now. "I'm the one who should apologize. I needed to watch you nearly die before I could admit I want forever with you." She stood on tiptoe to reach Eric's lips and kiss him for all it was worth.

Quickly, Sookie's fingers curled into the remnants of Eric's shirt, ripping it away with a force that surprised even her. Her nails scraped down his marble chest, leaving pink trails that vanished almost instantly. She attacked his jeans next, the metal button pinging against the wall as she tore it free.

"No, lover," Eric growled, his fangs descending with an audible click. He seized her wrists in one hand and flipped her beneath him in a blur of vampire speed, his body pinning hers to the mattress. "I'm the one who owes this debt."

Chapter Text

Chapter 25 Recap:

Sookie's fingers curled into the remnants of Eric's shirt, ripping it away with a force that surprised even her. Her nails scraped down his marble chest, leaving pink trails that vanished almost instantly. She attacked his jeans next, the metal button pinging against the wall as she tore it free.

"No," Eric growled, his fangs descending with an audible click. He seized her wrists in one hand and flipped her beneath him in a blur of vampire speed, his body pinning hers to the mattress. "I'm the one who owes this debt."

Chapter 26: Testing

Sookie stirred beneath the weight of Eric's body, half-draped across her like a marble statue that had somehow gotten tangled in Egyptian cotton. The California king stretched around them—a luxury clearly designed for six-foot-four Vikings rather than petite Louisiana waitresses. Her phone's chirping cut through her foggy thoughts, and she wiggled one arm free to fumble for it.

"Hey," she croaked, her voice morning-rough.

"Oh lord, you were still sleeping!" Amelia's voice rang with its usual perkiness.

"S'fine. What's up?"

"Lunch? Today? 1 o'clock. My treat."

Sookie squinted at her screen: 11:35 glowed back accusingly.

"One o'clock works. Text me where."

"Perfect! Later, sleepyhead."

Setting the phone down, Sookie attempted to extract herself from Eric's death-grip. Even in his daytime dormancy, his arms locked around her waist like steel bands, as if some part of him feared she might disappear again while he slept.

When she finally wriggled free from Eric's arms, she spotted a folded piece of cream-colored stationery propped on the night table. His elegant, old-world script flowed across the page:

"My beloved,

What could have been my end became instead a beginning with you. Last night will live eternally in my memory.

Your daylight guardians await outside. They stand ready to take you wherever you wish to go.

Until first dark,

E."

Sookie traced a finger over the signature at the bottom of the note. Her pulse beat steady—stronger than yesterday, more certain.

Last night had changed everything. But this morning? It was hers. Let's see what this bond really feels like when I'm not wrapped up in him, she thought, brushing hair from her eyes.

Sookie rushed through her shower and threw on jeans and a blouse, then hesitated at the bedroom threshold. She tugged at the edge of the blackout curtain, making sure not even a sliver of deadly sunlight could reach the bed. "See you at sunset, baby" she whispered, leaning over to press her lips against Eric's cool forehead.

After one last look at his motionless body, she made her way to the French doors leading to the small hallway between the penthouse and elevator. As she approached the guards stationed outside, a familiar face caught her eye.

"Alcide!" The name burst from her lips as she launched herself forward.

His laugh rumbled through his chest as he caught her, swinging her in a circle. "Well, well. The rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated." He set her down, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he studied her face. "Five years, Sookie. Damn."

Something in her chest loosened at the sight of him—a piece of her old life standing solid and unchanged before her.

"God, I'm so happy to see you" Sookie said, her voice catching. The warmth of Alcide's hand lingered where he'd brushed her cheek.

"Northman figured you'd be less anxious with a familiar face by your side." Alcide said with a half smile.

Sookie nodded, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Five years gone, but Alcide still smelled like pine and motor oil—comfortingly unchanged.

"This is Tray Dawson," Alcide gestured to the broad-shouldered man beside him. "Pack brother."

Tray extended a hand. "Miss Stackhouse."

"Just Sookie, please." She accepted his handshake, noting the calluses that matched his no-nonsense demeanor.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

"Where to?" Alcide asked as they stepped inside.

Sookie pulled Amelia's text up on her phone. "This address. I'm meeting a friend for lunch."

Tray glanced at the screen and nodded. "Fifteen minutes, tops. Good choice—their gumbo's the best in the Quarter."

"Tray could navigate New Orleans blindfolded," Alcide said, his mouth quirking into a half-smile. "Comes in handy when you need to avoid certain territories after dark."

Alcide and Tray claimed a table with clear sightlines to Sookie, their postures casual but vigilant.

Sookie spotted Amelia waving frantically from across the restaurant. Beside her sat a silver-haired man in an impeccable charcoal suit, swirling amber liquid in a tumbler.

"Thank God you're here," Amelia whispered, squeezing Sookie tight in a hug that smelled of jasmine and desperation.

"Ambush?" Sookie murmured against her friend's hair.

"Complete surprise visit. Save me," Amelia breathed before pulling back with a bright, artificial smile. "Daddy, this is my friend Sookie Stackhouse."

The man rose with practiced smoothness, extending a manicured hand. "Copley Carmichael. Pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Stackhouse." His smile didn't quite reach his calculating eyes. "My ex-wife and other daughters have mentioned you often, even if Amelia keeps her old man in the dark."

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Carmichael," Sookie said, sliding into her seat with a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes. She ordered a gin and tonic before even glancing at the menu, needing something to occupy her hands while she assessed the situation.

Across the table, Amelia's fingers drummed an anxious rhythm against her water glass. A faint sheen had broken out across her friend's forehead, and her smile looked brittle enough to shatter. Sookie caught Alcide's watchful gaze from across the room and gave an imperceptible nod—everything was fine, for now.

Copley Carmichael. The name had appeared in enough business sections and society pages for Sookie to recognize it, though Amelia rarely mentioned her father beyond vague references to "family money" and "complicated history."

Sookie lowered her eyes to her drink, letting her telepathy—sort of dormant since her return from the fairy realm—unfurl like a muscle stretching after some disuse. She reached toward Copley's mind with the delicate precision of someone picking a lock. His thoughts didn't flow like most people's; they crackled with sharp-edged efficiency, each one neatly filed away behind mental partitions.

Images flickered through his mind like slides in a projector: her curves in that blouse (nice), Amelia's latest "phase" (waste of potential), that backwater town she mentioned (glorified swamp), and something darker—fangs, blood, rumors about the Stackhouse girl. Behind it all ran calculations, the mental arithmetic of a man who collected information like currency. After lunch, he'd make some calls. Find out exactly who this blonde was spending her nights with. Sookie filed that away, a mental Post-it labeled "trouble."

Sookie's mental fingers had just brushed against the cold steel walls guarding Copley's secrets when her friend's voice cut through her concentration.

"Sookie's rebuilding Merlotte's," Amelia blurted, her eyes flashing a warning as obvious as a neon sign. "An old little bar in Bon Temps"

"Right," Sookie recovered, folding her napkin into precise quarters. "A big storm took the roof clean off a few years ago. The owner, he just didn't have the heart to start over, so I stepped in." The lie rolled off her tongue smooth as honey, settling into the space between them.

Copley leaned forward, his cufflinks catching the light. "Well now, that's something. Construction happens to be my bread and butter. Might have some contacts who could save you a pretty penny."

Sookie dipped into his thoughts, expecting murky waters, but found only clear interest glinting back at her. She hesitated. Men like Copley Carmichael didn't survive in business by being transparent. What if this apparent sincerity was just another calculated performance—the mental equivalent of a poker face, revealing only what he wanted her to see?

Amelia's eyes kept darting to Sookie throughout the meal, a silent SOS in every glance. Sookie fielded Copley's questions about the bar renovation with elaborate details she invented on the spot, watching his interest spark whenever she mentioned contractors or permits. Each time he turned toward his daughter, Sookie would interject with another question about New Orleans real estate or construction regulations. By dessert, Amelia's shoulders had finally lowered from their defensive hunch, though her smile remained brittle as spun sugar.

Copley dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin, folding it precisely before setting it beside his empty plate. "I must say, this has been most enlightening." His eyes lingered on Sookie a beat longer than necessary. "A pleasure to finally put a face to the name." When he turned to Amelia, his smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps next time we can discuss your latest... projects." Amelia's gaze fixed on the tablecloth as she nodded, her fingers twisting the stem of her empty wine glass. He signaled for the check with a practiced flick of his wrist, signed the receipt without examining it, and strode from the restaurant with the confident gait of someone who expected doors to open before he reached them.

Sookie watched Copley's tailored back disappear through the doorway before whipping around to face Amelia.

"Ambush lunch with Daddy Dearest?" She hissed through clenched teeth. "Really?"

"I'm sorry," Amelia whispered, slumping against the table. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her water glass. "He just showed up at my place this morning. You've seen him now—imagine being raised by that. The perfect Carmichael daughters in their perfect houses with their perfect husbands, and then there's me, the witch living in a small town, refusing to be a Carmichael in anything but DNA."

Sookie reached across the table and squeezed Amelia's trembling hand. Their worlds couldn't have been more different—Sookie's worn linoleum and hand-me-downs against Amelia's marble foyers and designer labels. Yet watching her friend shrink beneath her father's polished indifference, Sookie realized that all Gran's threadbare quilts and mismatched dishes had come with something Copley Carmichael's money couldn't buy: the certainty of being truly seen, truly loved. The wealth that really mattered.

"Listen," Sookie said, leaning forward until their foreheads nearly touched across the table, "that man doesn't get to dictate your life anymore. Bon Temps is your home now, where the only person you have to please is yourself." She squeezed Amelia's fingers between her own, feeling the slight tremor beneath her touch.

"Thanks, but until I can afford rent without his monthly deposits..." Amelia's voice trailed off as she dabbed at her mascara with a cocktail napkin. She straightened her shoulders with visible effort. "Anyways. How's Eric?"

"Last time I checked... he was dead asleep." Sookie quipped, her lips quirking into a half-smile. Amelia chuckled, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. Sookie swirled the wine in her glass, watching the crimson liquid catch the light. "He's fine…" Sookie paused, a flush creeping up her neck as she took a deliberate sip from her wine glass. "More than fine".

"God, Sookie," Amelia whispered, refilling her wine glass to the brim. Her fingers trembled slightly against the stem. "When that pendant showed me what was happening... all that blood..."

"Tell me about it," Sookie said with a laugh that didn't quite mask the heat rising to her cheeks. "I was the one covered in it."

"But..." Amelia leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Three days ago you were freaking out about completing the third bond. Then suddenly—"

"Turns out," Sookie interrupted, twisting her napkin until the linen nearly tore, "when you're faced with death, you stop letting what-ifs steal your life."

"And you feel different? It can't be that everything is exactly the same!"

Sookie touched her sternum with two fingers. There it was—a bit painful but soft vibration beneath her skin that hadn't been there yesterday. Like a tuning fork struck at the perfect pitch, it resonated in her chest cavity: Eric. She'd felt it last night when they were together, but now, even across town, it persisted. The sensation flowed with her blood, a cool current that traced her veins from fingertips to toes. She closed her eyes for a moment, following the thread of awareness back to its source. She could sense him—a few miles away, dead to the world in their hotel room. The clock read 2:30 p.m. Two and a half hours until sunset. Two and a half hours until those blue eyes would open, looking for her.

"Now that you mention it, yes, I feel different... fuller?" Sookie finally said, her hand still pressed to her chest.

"So," Amelia leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "does ancient Viking blood live up to the hype? Or should I say... does it match his other legendary qualities?"

Sookie's cheeks flamed as she glanced around the restaurant. "For heaven's sake, Amelia," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Legendary qualities? God…"

"Honey," Amelia said, leaning across the table with a knowing smirk, "you've snagged yourself the undead Viking King. Those women at Fangtasia with their fake bite marks and 'Bite Me' t-shirts aren't suddenly going to disappear because you two sealed the deal. Blood bond or not, you're in a relationship with someone who has groupies from Louisiana to California, and trust me, they aren't shy about what they want from him."

Sookie's shoulders tightened as Amelia's words struck a raw nerve. The thought of those women—decades, centuries of them—pressing against Eric with their hungry eyes and willing veins made her stomach twist into a cold, hard knot. This was the price of loving someone immortal, someone beautiful. She would need to learn to swallow that bitter pill without letting the poison spread between them.

The thought of standing across from some woman who'd known Eric's touch—maybe even his blood—made Sookie's jaw clench so hard her teeth ached.

She wasn't sure her newfound confidence would survive that particular test.

Sookie glanced at her watch and winced at the time. "I should get back to the hotel. Eric will be rising soon." Amelia sighed, fishing her car keys from her cluttered purse. "I'm heading home tonight anyway. All New Orleans has for me is my father's judgment, and poor Bob's fur is gonna start falling out from absorbing my stress."

They promised to keep each other updated on any developments, no matter how small.

"Text me when you get home safe," Sookie said, gathering her purse as she rose from her chair.

Two broad-shouldered men materialized from a nearby table, closing the distance with predatory grace.

"Almost forgot the introductions," Sookie said, gesturing toward them. "Amelia, meet my daytime security detail—Alcide and Tray."

"Pleasure," Amelia murmured, her voice catching as Tray's amber eyes met hers. Her fingers fumbled with her purse strap, knuckles whitening. "I'll be seeing you back in Bon Temps, I guess."

Sookie caught the electric glance between them and smiled. "Yes, they'll be around Bon Temps too," she said, watching color rise in Amelia's cheeks. Eric had assigned them as her protection for New Orleans trip, but she doubted he'd mind if their duties extended a little more. Sookie would enjoy playing cupid for a change. Especially when Tray couldn't seem to take his eyes off Amelia, and Amelia kept stealing glances at the broad-shouldered Were when she thought no one was looking.

The suite door clicked shut behind her an hour before sunset. She felt it deep in her chest—the bond stirring as Eric awoke.

He shifted, then sat up in one smooth, elegant movement, already half-alert. His gaze found her instantly, sleep-darkened pupils contracting.

"You're back," he rasped, voice hoarse from disuse. "Enjoy your day of freedom, lover?"

"Maybe," she answered, crossing to lean against the dresser. "Except for one thing."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Copley Carmichael. Amelia's father. He showed up for lunch. I read his mind." She folded her arms. "He's suspicious. Trying to figure out who I am and whom I'm spending my nights with. Apparently he's heard about my past with vampires."

Eric let his legs swing over the edge of the bed. "That's unfortunate, but hardly surprising." He pulled out his phone and scrolled. "He has resources?"

"Private investigators, lawyers. He can pry up almost anything, and he's got the money to dig deeper than most."

Eric nodded once, already plotting. "Amelia has to be discreet." He looked at her. "You did well to catch it quickly."

"I tested the bond," Sookie said after a moment. "I went a few miles away. I could feel you, but it hurt a bit."

Eric rose and crossed to her, sweeping a strand of hair from her cheek. "The bond pulls us together all the time. It's supposed to last a while, then ease up."

She studied him. "Really? Doesn't it bother you that, eventually, I'll be able to stay apart from you for longer stretches?"

A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe just a little."

She laughed, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—almost reverent—before moving to dress.

"I need to go back to Sophie-Anne's," he said, pulling on a dark shirt. "We have to deal with last night before someone spins it into weakness."

Sookie sat on the bed's edge, watching him button his cuffs with practiced calm. "Want me to come?"

"No, lover." He caught her reflection in the mirror. "You've had enough court appearances for now, even not visible, and it's safer if you stay hidden. We don't need people realizing you're back."

"Very well." Sookie smiled. "Do you have to leave right away?" Sookie asked with a sugestive tone.

"Unfortunately, yes. I know what you're thinking—I can read your mind in my own way—and as much as I'd love to stay here longer a do better things with you, the kingdom grows more vulnerable with every passing second." He kissed her forehead and then her lips, and went off to prepare for Sophie-Anne's.

Sookie perched on the edge of the bed, watching darkness bleed through a tiny gap between the curtains, she could easily noticed even from a decent distance. Probably a side effect of Eric's blood running inside her.

Eric's emotions pulsed through her veins like a second heartbeat—his urgency, his concern, his doubt. His thoughts on Sophie-Anne's situation. But beneath it all flowed something steady and warm: his love for her, unmistakable as a fingerprint.

The connection hummed beneath her sternum while he dressed, a comforting vibration. Only when the door clicked shut behind him did the first twinge of separation pull at her insides.

She pressed her palm against the spot and drew a deep breath.

Kingdom politics, Copley's prying, whatever storm clouds gathered on their horizon—none of it mattered. Their blood bond had sealed what her heart already knew. For the first time in her life, Sookie Stackhouse belonged somewhere. To someone. By choice. And she wouldn't trade that feeling for anything in this world or the next.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: Arkansas' Sheriffs

Eric strode into the queen's favorite chamber with Pam at his heels, their footsteps echoing across the marble surrounding the Olympic-sized pool. Artificial sunlight danced across the water's surface from recessed lighting designed to mimic daylight. Sophie-Anne perched on a chaise lounge, her mascara smudged beneath reddened eyes while Hadley hovered nearby, stroking her shoulder.

"Eric," Sophie-Anne's voice cracked. "You came."

He lowered his head in a formal bow. "Your Majesty." Pam sank into a perfect curtsy beside him.

"Arkansas is in shambles, Eric" Sophie-Anne said, rising to pace along the pool's edge. "Four sheriff positions vacant. They despise me there—they'll never accept my appointments…"

Hadley caught Eric's eye, her expression pleading, but remained silent.

"I have connections in the territory," Eric offered. "Vampires who would serve you well. It would be my pleasure to assist you on this task."

Sophie-Anne halted, her face brightening. "My savior, I don't know what would I do without you, and I hope I'll never have to find out," she breathed, reaching up to cradle his face between her cool palms. Eric's jaw tightened imperceptibly as he held himself perfectly still beneath her touch.

"Your Majesty, if I may." The voice cut through the room like silk over steel as Madeleine Fox glided in. "Arkansas might respond better to one of their own. After yesterday's... unpleasantness, I'm the only sheriff still standing." Her gaze slid to Eric, lingering a beat too long.

Sophie-Anne waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, Madeleine, proceed. But I want all candidates vetted through Northman before I make my final decisions."

Madeleine's gaze lingered on Eric, her fingertips trailing along the edge of a marble column. "Sheriff Northman and I have quite the history of... collaboration." Her tongue darted briefly across her lower lip. "Three years is far too long between conversations, wouldn't you agree, Eric?"

Eric's mouth thinned to a razor line, his chin dipping just enough to acknowledge her. The gleam in Madeleine's eyes spelled trouble—especially dangerous now with Sookie's blood singing through his veins, binding them together in ways no vampire could miss.

While Sophie-Anne remained lost in her political quagmire, Madeleine tilted her head, nostrils flaring slightly. She drifted closer to Eric, her eyes narrowing. "Something's different about you," she murmured, inhaling deeply near his collar. "Your usual scent has... acquired new notes."

"Madeleine." Eric stepped back, shoulders stiffening. "It's been some time indeed."

She slipped her cool fingers around his forearm, tugging him toward the arched doorway. "We have much to discuss. Privately."

Across the room, Pam's eyes tracked their movement, her fingers drumming against her thigh. The bond between maker and progeny hummed with Eric's discomfort. If he could feel this, Sookie certainly would too—the last thing they needed was his fairy bursting through those doors, her jealousy lighting up the room as brightly as her fae blood.

Eric waited until they were well beyond Sophie-Anne's earshot before he spoke. "What exactly are you after, Madeleine?" From the doorway, Pam's eyes narrowed, her body tensing as she monitored her maker's rising irritation.

Madeleine's crimson-smudged lips curved into a wicked smile. "Such frigid manners. I recall you used to welcome me differently." Her fingers slid along the seams of his leather jacket, trailing heat across his chest. She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "Someone new has stolen your scent.

He remained a statue, face unreadable. "Doesn't concern you."

"Surely not one of those pathetic humans from Fangtasia?" She traced a nail down his sternum, dragging him closer.

Eric's fingers snapped around her wrist, squeezing until her knuckles whitened. "We're done here. What happened between us was over before it began." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You knew the terms."

Madeleine's lips brushed his ear, her words a sultry accusation.

"I gave myself to you, Eric. And this is how you greet me?"

His hand shot to her shoulder, shoving her back until her spine arched. "Enough."

Her composure shattered in a single syllable. "NO!" Her scream echoed off the marble walls. "You swore you didn't want any attachment—and now this, you've fucking blood bonded?" Her voice cracked with betrayal. "How could you, Eric? You above all vampires."

"Madeleine." Eric's voice fell to a whisper that seemed to drop the temperature in the room. "You misunderstood our arrangement. As for the woman you smell on me—" his eyes hardened to blue ice "—her blood has called to mine since long before you and I ever crossed paths."

"Don't tell me it's that waitress you were obsessed with when I met you," Madeleine hissed, fangs descending involuntarily. "The great Eric Northman, on his knees for a backwater cocktail waitress—"

Before she could finish, Eric's fist drove her face-first into the marble wall. The stone fractured in a web of cracks. His other hand shot up, crushing her windpipe, fangs descending as his eyes ignited with ancient wrath. "She carries royal blood older than you or me," he snarled, voice low and terrifying. "Speak of her again and I'll rip out your throat."

Blood welled in Madeleine's eyes, tears of iron spilling down her cheeks as she clawed at his grip. "Such a disappointment…" she choked out.

With one brutal shove, he sent her flying backward. She smashed into an antique table, splintering its carved legs like twigs, then crashed against the cracked plaster wall.

"So falls the mighty Viking," she whispered, tasting bitter ruin.

Eric straightened, each knuckle leaving a crimson streak on the white doorframe.

"Arkansas' Sheriffs. That is all. Nothing more." His voice cut through the hallway like a blade as he turned, storming back toward the pool salon and leaving Madeleine broken and bleeding in his wake.

"Your Majesty," Eric bowed, as he approached to Sophie-Anne, the gesture precise and formal. "With your permission, Pam and I should return to Shreveport. After yesterday's events, Area Five requires our attention." His voice remained steady, betraying none of the urgency thrumming through him.

"Of course," Sophie-Anne said, her voice softening as she placed a delicate hand on each of their shoulders. "I've arranged additional security beginning tonight, we will be okay. Your bravery yesterday was... exceptional." Her crimson-painted nails pressed lightly into the fabric of their clothing. "Such loyalty will not go unrewarded."

Eric took her offered hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Your Majesty is most gracious."

Eric and Pam offered polished farewells, their centuries of court etiquette masking their eagerness to depart. Hadley's gaze sought Eric's again, but he kept his eyes forward. One vampire woman's drama was enough for tonight.

The limousine's door closed with a soft thud, sealing them into leather-scented privacy. The vehicle glided away from the mansion toward their hotel.

Pam waited precisely one block before turning to him. "What the fuck was that?"

"Madeleine Fox, nursing a three-year-old grudge." Eric stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.

"Are you going to tell Sookie?"

Eric stared out the tinted window. "I'm weighing my options."

He'd dampened their blood bond during the confrontation, but guilt pricked at him for the deception. Sookie deserved honesty—didn't she? Or perhaps she deserved protection from unnecessary pain. His fingers tapped against his thigh, one-two-three, stop, one-two-three, stop. Hadley's new condition. Madeleine's absurd claims. The thousand-year parade of faces that might emerge from his past... The journal had exposed some affairs, yes, but those were ancient history compared to the last five years. Five years she was gone. Five years he'd waited. Five years of choices that now felt like betrayals though they weren't.

His mind flashed to the possessiveness that had darkened Sookie's eyes at Fangtasia last week—that woman had merely asked for a photo, yet Sookie's hand had gripped his arm so tightly her knuckles blanched white. That dangerous spark of fairy territoriality both thrilled and terrified him. He'd spent centuries being the most dangerous creature in any room, yet now found himself calculating the exact temperature of her anger, wondering if protection or truth would serve her better. Would serve him better.

The sharp points of his fangs pressed against his gums whenever men's eyes lingered on her curves. He had no right to criticize her possessiveness when his own ran just as deep. But did that make it healthy? Or was this blood bond transforming them both into something neither would recognize?

The blood bond was merciless that way—a supernatural lie detector humming between them. No matter how he tried to shield his thoughts, his emotions would leak through like light beneath a door, illuminating even his most carefully hidden truths. Sooner or later, Sookie would feel the dissonance.

The irony twisted in his gut like a silver blade—hadn't he been the one lecturing her about honesty just nights ago?

Eric's jaw tightened as the limousine rounded another corner. Madeleine's perfume clung to his jacket like an accusation. Would Sookie sense it? Would last night's exchange have heightened her perception that far? I should tell her. No I should not. I should burn this jacket. I should come clean. I should protect her. I should—

The limousine rolled to a stop beneath the hotel's portico, the engine's purr fading to silence.

"I'll have the jet fueled and waiting within the hour," Pam said, studying Eric's reflection in the tinted partition. "Assuming you've finished your existential crisis by then."

Eric's thousand-year-old eyes flickered briefly toward her. "Appreciated."

"This is so pathetic" Pam drawled and rolled her eyes. Before he could remind her of her place, she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of her designer perfume hanging in the air.

Eric tested the bond with a gentle mental probe. Sookie was exactly where he had left her, a golden presence pulsing in his mind. He felt a wave of relaxation emanating from her—warm honey spreading through his veins, dissolving the tension in his shoulders and neck. The bath, he realized, catching the faint echo of splashing water through their connection.

He entered the penthouse without making a sound, his footfalls silent against the marble floor, a predator returning to his most treasured prize. The scent of vanilla and jasmine bath salts drifted through the air, mingling with the unmistakable sweetness that was purely Sookie. His fingers worked methodically at his buttons, dropping each garment to the floor like shed skin, a serpentine trail leading to the bathroom door.

When he pushed it open, steam billowed around him like morning fog on a Nordic shore. There she was, golden hair darkened to amber where it clung to her flushed skin, head tilted back against the porcelain edge. Droplets of water clung to her collarbone, catching the light like diamonds. The water lapped at the curves of her breasts, revealing and concealing with each ripple. Eric's fangs descended involuntarily as he watched a single bead of water trace its way down the hollow of her throat. In that moment, everything else seemed trivial and meaningless compared to the sight of her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

"Hello, lover," Eric growled, his voice a dark caress that made the water around Sookie's body ripple. His smile was feral, fangs fully extended, blue eyes burning with a hunger that had nothing to do with blood.

Sookie's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilating as she met his predatory gaze. The bond between them surged like a live wire.

"I felt you," she whispered, her throat suddenly dry despite the steam. "Enjoying the view?" She trailed her fingers through the water, creating ripples.

"Just memorizing what I'm about to taste," he replied, kneeling beside the tub.

"How much longer do you need, or should I start without you?" Sookie asked teasingly, gently cupping her breasts and biting her lower lip. Eric's eyes darkened to midnight as he lunged forward, water exploding around them as he seized her dripping body from the tub.

Her wet skin collided with his marble chest like a thunderclap, the impact forcing a primal cry from her lungs as he carried her to the bed in a blur that left reality smearing around them. He slammed her down with such force the antique frame cracked beneath them, his massive body devouring every escape route as he imprisoned her against the damp sheets.

His hands seized her thighs with bruising intensity, wrenching them apart before plunging his fingers into her core, where heat and need had created a molten pool. "I've been starving for this," he snarled, his voice barely human. His fingers delved mercilessly deeper as Sookie writhed and clawed at the sheets, her back arching off the mattress as if electrified.

"You were the one who left me here by myself," Sookie gasped between desperate cries, her body convulsing with each masterful stroke. Pleasure crashed through her in violent waves, each one threatening to drown her before the tsunami building within.

Eric drove himself into her with savage force, the headboard splintering against the wall as Sookie's nails tore bloody furrows down his back, her scream echoing off the ceiling as he filled her completely.

"We leave for Shreveport today," he commanded through gritted teeth, each punishing thrust punctuated by the flash of lethal fangs. "The plane waits in an hour."

"Then stop wasting time," Sookie challenged, her body arching beneath him as she gripped his shoulders. Their passion spiraled higher until they crashed over the edge together—Eric's fangs finding her throat with practiced precision while Sookie bit down on his shoulder, drawing the crimson essence that bound them. His blood flowed into her as hers filled his mouth, their supernatural exchange completing the circuit as they both surrendered to oblivion.

Eric traced the curve of Sookie's spine with his fingertips, her body still draped across his like golden silk. "How is it possible that every time we're apart, I feel truly dead" he murmured against her hair. "And then come back to life when I'm inside you?."

"Because I'm literally your life source," Sookie teased, pressing her lips to his chest.

His laugh rumbled beneath her ear before fading into a weighted pause. "The jet is waiting, lover. We need to be back in Shreveport before dawn."

After hastily packing their belongings, Sookie and Eric descended to the hotel lobby where Pam stood waiting, one eyebrow arched impatiently. The limousine ride to the airfield passed in comfortable silence, Sookie's fingers intertwined with Eric's across the leather seat. True to Pam's word, the sleek private jet stood ready on the tarmac, its engines already humming with anticipation.

Eric emerged from the vehicle first, extending his hand to Sookie with that old-world gallantry that still made her heart flutter. As she stepped out, the breeze pressed his jacket against her cheek, and a foreign perfume—delicate, expensive, and unmistakably feminine—invaded her senses.

"What is this?" Sookie asked, her nostrils flaring slightly as she leaned closer to his collar.

Eric's face went perfectly still, his eyes shuttering closed for the briefest moment. The fresh exchange of blood had sharpened Sookie's senses beyond human or fairy limits, making the foreign perfume –even from hours ago– impossible to dismiss; it clung to Eric's collar like lipstick on a champagne glass, waiting to be discovered.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 27:

Eric emerged from the vehicle first, extending his hand to Sookie with that old-world gallantry that still made her heart flutter. As she stepped out, the breeze pressed his jacket against her cheek, and a foreign perfume—delicate, expensive, and unmistakably feminine—invaded her senses.

"What is this?" Sookie asked, her nostrils flaring slightly as she leaned closer to his collar.

Eric's face went perfectly still, his eyes shuttering closed for the briefest moment. The fresh exchange of blood had sharpened Sookie's senses beyond human or fairy limits, making the foreign perfume –even from hours ago– impossible to dismiss; it clung to Eric's collar like lipstick on a champagne glass, waiting to be discovered.

A/N: Domestic Sookie+Eric, with a hint of reality.

Chapter 28: The Vampire and the Fairy

"Eric?" Sookie's voice hardened.

"Not here," Eric murmured, his cool fingers encircling her wrist. "The plane."

Sookie let herself be guided up the metal steps, the scent still burning in her nostrils. Inside the luxury cabin, Pam was already settled with noise-canceling headphones, her expression carefully blank as she pretended to flip through a magazine.

The moment they reached cruising altitude, Sookie turned to face him. "Who is she?"

Eric's shoulders dropped a fraction. "Madelaine Fox. Sheriff of Area Five in Arkansas." His ancient eyes studied her face. "The lone survivor of Arkansas' Sheriffs. She didn't rebel last night."

Sookie's jaw tightened. "And?"

"We had a brief... entanglement. Three years ago." Eric leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Tonight, she sensed your blood and your scent in me. She recognized our bond immediately."

"So she what—hugged you for old times' sake?" Sookie's fingers drummed against the armrest.

"She got closer, she attempted more," he admitted. "I refused. Immediately." His pale fingers reached for hers. "Sookie, our blood connection would reveal any betrayal. You would feel it. I swear nothing happened."

From behind her magazine, Pam's perfectly manicured fingers twitched at Eric's earnest declaration. A single snort escaped her lips before she could compose herself, the glossy pages trembling slightly in her hands. Sookie's gaze darted between the two vampires—Pam's studied nonchalance and Eric's intense stare. Something inside Sookie's chest hummed in response to his words, a warm current flowing through the blood they'd exchanged. The truth of it resonated like a tuning fork against bone; their bond remained unbroken, unblemished.

"I believe you," Sookie said. Eric's shoulders relaxed, tension draining from his ancient frame like water from cupped hands.

"You're not angry?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically tentative.

Sookie shook her head. "Five years is a long time to wait for someone who might never return. I can hardly fault you for living your life. Specially considering we weren't together at that moment."

"If you asked it of me now—"

"I know." She laced her fingers through his, cool skin against warm. "But next time, I'd appreciate a heads-up about any exes before they appear wearing expensive perfumes and batting their eyelashes at you. So, if there's any other person…"

Eric's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Behind his eyes, a millennium of memories shuffled like cards—the parade of women across five lonely years, faces he'd already forgotten, bodies he'd used to numb the ache of Sookie's absence. He selected only two names from the deck, those who might conceivably cross their path again.
Sookie's expression remained carefully neutral as she absorbed each syllable, each pause between his words. Across the aisle, Pam suddenly found her magazine fascinating, angling it higher to hide the knowing curl of her lips.

"Is that all?" Sookie asked softly.
Eric nodded once, the lie hanging between them like frost.

Sookie reached through their bond, testing its edges. She felt him retreat slightly, smoothing the connection to conceal his discomfort. The ancient Viking who had terrorized continents for a thousand years now sat perfectly still, his immortal heart held captive by a Louisiana barmaid.

"Very well," Sookie said, twisting her blonde hair into a bun. The tension drained from Eric's shoulders. Behind her magazine, Pam's lips curved into a smirk.
Madelaine, Julia, Deborah. The names circled in Sookie's mind like vultures. Only three women in five years? For Eric Northman, that was practically celibacy. She'd seen firsthand how he sought comfort between sheets—or against walls, or across desk tops—when his emotions ran high. The blood bond between them hummed discordantly now, like an instrument slightly out of tune. He was holding back. The knowledge stung, but she swallowed it down. If Eric was concealing parts of his past, he had his reasons. Protection, perhaps. Or mercy. Either way, she wouldn't press him. Not tonight.

The moment they touched down in Shreveport, Sookie made a mental note: Eric's office would need all new furniture—starting with that leather couch and his desk.

Relief coursed through Eric's veins like a cool current as Sookie appeared to accept his partial confession. Whether she truly believed only three women had warmed his bed in five years remained uncertain, but she'd chosen not to challenge him—for now. He silently prayed to gods he'd long abandoned that none of his other dalliances would materialize at Fangtasia's door.

He still felt like he was walking barefoot across broken glass around her. The blood bond might be permanent, but Sookie's heart remained her own to give or withdraw. One misstep, one careless word, and she could slip through his fingers again. So the ancient Viking who had commanded armies now carefully measured every syllable, every touch, every battle worth fighting—all for her.

There, in front of him, Sookie's golden hair caught the cabin's dim light as her eyes fluttered closed. This slip of a woman had brought the mighty Eric Northman to his knees.

He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath—those precious, numbered breaths that humans took for granted. What if she chose mortality? The thought lodged in his throat like a silver blade. Five years of waiting, of planning their life together, all potentially reduced to mere decades, six at most. A heartbeat in his endless existence.

He could already feel the phantom ache of her absence again, though she sat inches away. The choice was hers alone—he would never deny her that freedom—but as he studied her peaceful face, Eric silently begged his ancient gods for her to choose otherwise, because when she left this world, whenever that happen, he would too.

The plane touched down with barely a bump, nothing like the stomach-lurching landing they'd experienced on the way out. Sookie glanced out the window at the frost-rimmed tarmac, winter's grip tightening over Louisiana. Her phone buzzed—Amelia texting that she and Bob had made it home safely.

"Come home with me tonight," Eric said, his cool fingers brushing her cheek as the driver loaded her suitcase into the trunk. "To my place."

"You have a place?" Sookie blinked. "An actual house?"

Eric's laugh rumbled deep in his chest. "Where did you imagine I spent my days? Fangtasia's basement?"

"Honestly? Yeah." She shrugged. "I just can't picture you picking out furniture and hanging curtains."

"I own several properties," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "But there's only one I've bothered to make... livable, like a real home, in recent years."

Sookie chewed her lower lip, weighing the invitation. Eric's eyes softened as he watched her internal debate play across her face.

"No one has been to my homes, no one even knows their locations, except Pam." He said quietly.

The tension in Sookie's shoulders eased. "Alright, take me home, then."

Pam rushed directly to her home, as the eastern sky had already begun to lighten—a faint grayish tinge that made Eric glance upward with wariness. Four hours, maybe less, before he'd have to leave her. Lately, Sookie found herself counting these minutes, resenting the sunrise that stole him away. During daylight hours, she'd bustle about, fiercely independent as always, yet find herself pausing mid-task, wondering what he might say about the book she was reading or the dress she'd chosen. This pull toward him had taken root long before their third blood exchange—this she knew with certainty.

The Corvette slipped through the heavy iron gates with a soft creak of ancient hinges. Sookie's breath caught as they rounded the final curve of the drive. Centuries-old live oaks and southern magnolias stood sentinel along the path, their moss-draped branches creating a natural archway that framed the home beyond. The two-story structure rose from the landscape as if it had grown there—all weathered cypress and wide, welcoming porches that wrapped around both levels. Nothing like the sleek modernity she'd expected from Eric.

"This can't be yours," she whispered, unable to reconcile the elegant Southern manor with the leather-clad Viking who owned Fangtasia.

Eric's mouth curved into a smile as he cut the engine. "I've lived through the Renaissance, the Baroque period, and the birth of Gothic architecture, lover. Did you think I spent a thousand years developing only my fighting skills?"

Eric's cool fingers wrapped around hers as he helped her from the car, his other hand effortlessly balancing their luggage. Sookie's breath caught at the arched entrance, her eyes darting from the hand-carved moldings to the stained glass insets that caught the moonlight.

Inside, as she slipped her coat from her shoulders, Eric hung it beside his on an antique rack. His eyes glinted with anticipation as he laced his fingers through hers again, ready to unveil each room of the home he'd kept hidden from the world—a tour he'd rehearsed in his mind countless times during her absence.

Sookie stepped into the foyer and froze. Where she'd expected centuries of accumulated treasures, she found only sleek surfaces and calculated emptiness. Dark leather and polished wood caught the low light. The space breathed with Eric's essence—disciplined, elegant, revealing nothing.

"A kitchen?" She ran her fingers along the granite countertop, cool as vampire skin. "It's massive."

"You disapprove?" Eric's voice carried amusement.

"You don't eat," she pointed out.

The dining table stretched like a runway, its twelve chairs perfectly aligned. "Planning dinner parties?" she asked.

Eric merely smiled.

His office, though—that room spoke truth. Ancient texts lined bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Battle shields hung between crossed swords, silent witnesses to a thousand years of survival.

When they reached the bedroom, Sookie's breath caught. No utilitarian resting place like his cubby at her house. A king-sized bed dominated the space, its untouched linens pulled taut across its expanse. The carved wooden headboard told stories in figures that seemed to move in the candlelight. Three vanilla candles burned on one nightstand, their scent softening the air.

Sookie peeked through a door on the left to find Eric's walk-in closet—a space so vast that his meticulously arranged shirts, suits, and leather jackets occupied barely half the built-in racks. The opposite doorway revealed a bathroom that made her gasp. Cream tiles inlaid with sapphire and cerulean mosaics flowed across the floor and up the walls like frozen water. Twin sinks gleamed beneath a mirror that stretched the entire wall, reflecting the glass-walled shower and—her lips curved knowingly—a deep soaking tub large enough for a Viking. Of course Eric would have a bathtub. She'd discovered long time ago he enjoyed long, contemplative soaks.

"That's quite a bathtub," Sookie said, her voice catching slightly as she ran her fingertips along the smooth edge.

"I had you in mind when I chose it, want to try it?" Eric murmured, his cool palm finding the small of her back.

A delicious chill raced up her spine at his touch. She pivoted toward him, her hands rising to frame his face—those ancient, beautiful features she'd secretly dreamed about so many times, she pressed her lips against his, tentative at first, then with a hunger that surprised even her.

Eric's lips curved into a smile against hers before he drew back just enough to whisper, "I believe we have our answer."

Steam rose as water cascaded into the tub, Eric's hands a blur as he adjusted the temperature. His fingers slowed when they reached for Sookie, tracing her collarbone before finding the first button of her blouse. Each newly revealed inch of skin received the cool press of his lips—the curve where neck meets shoulder, the swell above her lace bra, the sensitive hollow of her spine as the fabric fell away. When he freed her hair from its elastic, golden waves tumbled across her shoulders, catching the candlelight.
Sookie's breath hitched. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, then the buttons of his jeans. The whisper of denim against skin, the rustle of his shirt joining the growing pile on the tile floor.

"Perfection," Eric murmured, blue eyes drinking her in.

Sookie's gaze traveled the planes of his chest, down to where her fingertips traced the definition of muscle beneath pale skin. "Not so bad yourself."

The water embraced her as Eric guided her in, then settled behind her, his chest cool against her back. His fingers drifted across her skin beneath the water, circling her nipples.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," she whispered, melting against him.

"You'd prune," he said against her ear, his voice light despite the weight of her words.

Sookie surrendered her head back onto his shoulder, her throat exposed like an offering in the flickering light. The pulse there hammered against her skin, betraying her.

"Temptress," he growled, the word vibrating through his chest into her spine.

"Who, me?" she breathed, eyes still closed, lips curved with dangerous innocence.

Eric decided two could play this game, and his fingertip seared a path along her neck, stalking the wild rhythm beneath. Her blood surged toward his touch like iron to a magnet, singing for him alone. When his cool fingers claimed the hollow of her throat, Sookie's body convulsed against him. His arm locked around her chest, pinning her against the hard plane of his body while his other hand claimed the blue rivers now throbbing beneath her flushed skin.

The sound torn from her lips was primal—pleasure and surrender tangled into one desperate note. Her muscles went taut as bowstrings beneath his possession. Eric's fangs descended involuntarily.

The sound that escaped her was half-sigh, half-gasp. Her muscles coiled beneath his touch. Eric felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Does this frighten you?" he murmured, voice thick with hunger.

"I know you won't—can't—hurt me," she gasped as his grip tightened.

"Perhaps not by feeding," he promised darkly. "There are other ways."

She attempted to sit upright, but his embrace was unyielding.

"So you are afraid."

Sookie's throat constricted beneath his fingers. "No," she challenged, defiance blazing through her trembling.

"Have you forgotten what I am?" His lips grazed her ear, inhaling her essence like a drug. "I remain death incarnate, a predator, Sookie, and you—you're the most exquisite prey I've encountered in a millennium. How can you expect restraint when you offer such temptation?"

Sookie's lungs seized as Eric's fangs scraped her throat, not breaking skin—not yet—but promising. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back until her spine arched against his marble chest. Her pulse hammered wildly beneath the razor points of his teeth.

"I used to be afraid of you," she gasped, the words torn from her throat.

"And now?" Eric's voice vibrated against her jugular, each syllable pressing his fangs deeper into her flesh. The scent of her fear bloomed like nightshade, intoxicating him.

"I—" Her voice fractured as his grip tightened.

"You challenged me then. You challenge me now." His tongue traced the path his fangs had marked, tasting salt and adrenaline. "Why?"

Sookie's nails dug crescents into his forearm. "Something in me knew you wouldn't kill me."

Eric's laugh was a dark promise against her skin. "Kill you? No. I'd never extinguish what I've hunted a millennium to possess. What I intend to savor"—his teeth grazed her thundering pulse—"for all eternity."

Sookie's muscles unclenched beneath his grip, the sudden surrender making Eric's pupils dilate with hunger. He let her rise just enough to face him, his fingers still locked around her throat, thumb pressed against her thundering pulse.

"If you can't kill me by drinking from me," she breathed, her voice ragged, "then there's no limit to what you could take, is there?"

"Apparently, no" Eric growled, fangs fully extended. "Why tempt the monster, little fairy?"

Sookie rose in one fluid motion, water cascading down her flushed skin like liquid silver. Eric's hand dragged possessively across her flesh—the heavy curve of her breast, the trembling plane of her stomach, the quivering muscle of her thigh—leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"What game are you playing?" Eric demanded, nostrils flaring at the intoxicating scent of her arousal mingling with fear.

"Predator and prey," Sookie whispered, stepping from the tub. She leaned so close her lips brushed his ear, her blood singing beneath paper-thin skin. "Catch me, vampire, if you can".

Then Sookie was gone–fairy style–leaving behind only that scent of sunshine and honey hanging in the steamy air. Eric's growl vibrated through the bathroom tiles as he rose from the water in one fluid motion, droplets barely having time to fall from his skin before he was already moving, tracking her around the house.

"Hi, there," Sookie's voice floated from the darkened corner of the living room, honey-sweet and deadly. Before Eric's predator reflexes could strike, she vanished—leaving behind a shimmering trail of fairy essence that hit him like a drug, burning through his veins and setting his fangs throbbing painfully against his gums. Her scent lingered, taunting him.

She materialized at the dining table, her skin glowing with otherworldly light. "Wasn't it your kind who hunted mine to near extinction?" Her eyes flashed with dangerous playfulness.

Eric lunged—a thousand-year-old blur of lethal intent—his fingers grazing her skin before clutching empty air. The miss tore a feral roar from his chest that rattled the windows. His control—cultivated over centuries—unraveled with each teasing glimpse of her. Blood-lust and desire twisted into something primal inside him.

"ENOUGH!" The word exploded from him, shattering a nearby glass.

Sookie appeared on the sofa, chest heaving, eyes wild. "Surrendering so soon, Viking?"

"You have no idea what you're doing" Eric snarled, his voice dropping to a guttural register that hadn't emerged since his human days. "This isn't a game you can win, fairy."

"Huh. As far as I know, you haven't caught me yet," Sookie taunted, her heart hammering so hard she felt it in her throat.

Eric's eyes blazed electric blue, pupils blown wide with predatory hunger. "I'm savoring the chase."

"Either that," she whispered, "or you're not as good as you think you are."

The words had barely left her lips when Eric's roar shook the walls—a sound so ancient and feral it seemed to bypass her ears and vibrate directly in her bones. His fangs fully extended, gleaming like daggers in the dim light. Sookie's breath caught as she recognized the true vampire beneath the civilized veneer—and instead of terror, liquid heat pooled low in her belly. Her skin prickled with electric anticipation as she watched him struggle against instincts honed over a thousand blood-soaked years.

"Why do you hold back?" Sookie's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "It's killing you, isn't it?"

"If I didn't…" Eric's jaw clenched so hard she heard teeth crack.

"Should I look for another, more capable, vampire?" Sookie teased harder, her pulse thundering.

When Eric lunged, the air around her electrified. Her body shot upward, pinning her against the ceiling as if gravity had reversed itself. The house trembled with Eric's howl—a sound torn from the depths of his Viking past.

"YOU!" Eric's fist shattered through the drywall. Blood streaked down his forearm as he dropped to his knees, chest heaving. "YOU FUCKING DO THAT?!"

"I didn't know I could—" Sookie's laugh shattered into a gasp as her body slammed against the ceiling. Her blood roared in her ears. "Another thing that none of your parade of whores can do."

"MINE," Eric's roar split the air like thunder. He launched upward, the floorboards splintering beneath his feet. His fingers raked fire across her ankle before she jerked higher, pinned against the rafters. Below her, Eric crashed down, the impact cracking the hardwood. His eyes blazed molten crimson, fangs fully extended, his face contorted into something terrifying that made her heart seize even as heat flooded her core.

Eric's eyes turned to obsidian pools, all humanity draining from his face as something ancient and merciless surfaced. His lips peeled back from fangs that gleamed like ivory daggers in the dim light.

Sookie vanished in a shimmer of fairy light, materializing against the headboard. The mattress had barely dipped beneath her weight when Eric appeared at the foot of the bed, muscles coiled like a predator about to strike, the air around him crackling with lethal intent.

"I'll make it easier for you," Sookie whispered, her voice betraying a tremor despite her bravado.

"I don't need your mercy," Eric snarled, the words barely human.

"It's taking you too—" The words died in her throat as Eric moved with supernatural speed, flipping their positions in a violent blur. Her wrists slammed against the headboard, trapped in his iron grip, her body pinned beneath the crushing weight of a thousand-year-old killer.

"Any last words, fucking fairy?" His breath scorched her skin, fangs hovering a heartbeat away from her thundering pulse.

"Enjoy your dinner, you blood-sucker son of a bitch" Sookie gasped, her smile more defiant than playful, teasing him even more.

Eric struck with prehistoric violence, fangs shredding through the tender flesh of her throat like twin daggers. Her blood erupted into his mouth—hot, electric, devastating—fairy essence detonating across his tongue like liquid sunlight. No gentleness. No restraint. Just a millennium of hunger unleashed as he gulped and growled against her skin, each swallow burning his throat raw.

Sookie's vision fractured into white-hot starbursts. Her limbs went leaden, useless. Her very cells screamed as Eric drained her with brutal efficiency, his body vibrating against hers like a tuning fork struck against bone. Her heartbeat stuttered—thump...thump...thump—each pause between beats stretching longer. The room tilted, darkened at the edges. Eric's growls deepened to something inhuman, something ancient that predated language itself. His fingers dug into her flesh, bruising, breaking capillaries as he forced more blood to the surface, his thumb pressing against her carotid to squeeze out every last precious drop.

When her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth beneath his thumb, something terrible ripped through Eric's consciousness—not conscience, not reason, but something carved into his very DNA, something older than vampirism itself. A warning that screamed through his body with such force that his fangs nearly shattered against her skin.

And Sookie's blood stopped flowing.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 28:

When her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth beneath his thumb, something terrible ripped through Eric's consciousness—not conscience, not reason, but something carved into his very DNA, something older than vampirism itself. A warning that screamed through his body with such force that his fangs nearly shattered against her skin.

And Sookie's blood stopped flowing.

A/N: Lemons ahead. Apologies to those who like stories to move along more quickly, but I really enjoy creating intimate moments between Sookie and Eric – moments where they can truly get to know each other.

Still, I do like drama.

Chapter 29: My Beloved

Eric froze, his mouth still pressed against her neck. The blood had stopped flowing. A cold wave of terror crashed through him—had he drained her completely? Had he killed Sookie? His Sookie?

He pulled back, trembling hands searching for a pulse, when her eyelids fluttered open. Tears clung to her lashes as her gaze found his.

The relief nearly buckled his knees. "By all the gods," he whispered, his voice breaking. His lips brushed her ear, her cheek, the curve of her chin. "You're alive."

A weak smile played across her lips. "Either that or you've managed to follow me to heaven."

"You're alive, you're alive, Astin min." he repeated, the words a prayer.

"Baby, calm down" she murmured, "Tell me what's going on."

His words tumbled out between kisses. "Your blood—it just stopped. I couldn't—I thought I'd taken too much. Your pulse was fading, but something in me forced me to stop."

"Huh. Must be the bond," she said, her voice still faint but her mind clearly working. "Do you feel... satisfied?"
"Satisfied doesn't begin to describe it," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It's as if I've consumed enough blood to last weeks in just those few moments."

Their laughter dissolved the tension like sugar in hot water. Eric shifted his weight off her, settling beside her on the rumpled sheets. Their faces turned toward each other in the dim light.

"Never push me that far again," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Sookie's eyes sparkled. "It was fun. I saw the real you. The Viking Vampire beneath those careful walls you put between us."

His cool finger traced the curve of her cheek, tucking a golden strand behind her ear. A sigh escaped him. "That's not who I want to be with you."

"Eric." She captured his hand in hers, her warm fingers wrapping around his cool ones. "I'm not afraid of your darkness. You saw me stand in it."

His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating slightly as he studied her. "Yes… that is true," he admitted. "You stood remarkably firm."

"The sun's almost here," Sookie whispered, her fingertip trailing across his cool lower lip. "Shame we didn't get to... you know."

Eric's teeth closed around her wandering fingertip, a playful capture that sent a shiver down her spine. When he released it, his eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Lover, you have given me the best feast of my life"," He murmured, voice rough with emotion, "I will go to my daytime rest, happy and satisfied."

Sookie pressed her lips to his, a gentle kiss that lingered with promise. They cocooned themselves in the tangled sheets, Eric's cool arms drawing her against the marble planes of his chest. She watched as dawn's approach gradually stilled him, his ancient eyes closing against the sun's distant call. Only when his fake breathing had ceased entirely did she allow her own heavy lids to fall, surrendering to dreams that waited just beyond consciousness.

Sookie jolted awake in a meadow that assaulted her senses—emerald grass swaying against her bare legs, wildflowers releasing intoxicating perfume, a crystalline sky burning her eyes with its impossible blue. The air tasted like honey on her tongue.

"Heaven" Sookie whispered.
"No," whispered a voice that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. "You're in Fairy. Don't you remember?"
Heart hammering, Sookie spun in a circle until her gaze locked on the Brigant castle piercing the horizon like a silver dagger.
"You're home," the voice hissed.
"This is NOT my home!" Sookie's scream scattered nearby birds into flight. "I have to get back NOW, before more time—"
"Fairy festival season," the voice cut through her panic. "The great blessing comes."
"Eric is waiting—" Her voice cracked.
"The portals are SEALED."
The words slammed into Sookie like a physical blow. Five years. Ten. How long would Eric wait this time before accepting she was gone forever? Her chest constricted until breathing became impossible. She bolted toward the castle, tears scalding her cheeks.
"GRANDFATHER!" The word tore from her throat. "CLAUDINE! Please! Eric needs me! PLEASE!"
Her foot caught something—a root, a stone—and she crashed face-first into the grass. When she raised her head, the castle remained mockingly distant, unchanged.
"You knew," the voice purred against her ear.
"Knew what?" Sookie snarled through bloody lips.
"Its not easy to live between worlds"
"I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS!" she screamed into the dirt. "I NEED TO GO BACK!"

Sookie's own scream woke her, the words "I have to go back... Eric" still hanging in the air as she bolted upright in bed. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Eric lay beside her, utterly still in his daytime death. She traced a trembling finger along his cool jawline, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
"Thank God," she whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead.
The nightmare's grip loosened, but the fear lingered—that terrible vision of being trapped in Fairy while time slipped away in the human world, Eric waiting faithfully for a woman who might never return. The thought alone made her chest constrict with a pain so sharp it felt physical.

Sookie eased herself from the bed, mindful not to jostle Eric in his daylight trance. In his closet hung a silk robe—pale blue with delicate lilac blossoms scattered across the fabric and a cursive 'S' embroidered above the heart. Her fingers trembled as she slipped it on. Years of absence, yet he'd kept this waiting, tags still attached, as though her return had never been a question of if, only when.

Her throat felt parched, her stomach hollow. Maybe a glass of water and something to eat would settle the trembling in her hands—though what food a vampire might keep in his kitchen remained to be seen.

"It's not easy to live between two worlds." The nightmare's words echoed in Sookie's mind as she paced the hallways on her way to the kitchen. That book she had bought at the bookstore in Shreveport—the one about fairy bloodlines—might have answers, but it was back at her house. She glanced at the heavy metal curtains throughout the house, then at the front door with its sophisticated security system she had no codes for. Trapped until sunset. A wry smile twisted her lips. How very like Eric to keep her safely contained while he slept.

Sookie opened cabinet after cabinet in Eric's kitchen, her breath catching as each door revealed another familiar sight. The Williams-Sonoma measuring cups she'd admired in a catalog but couldn't justify buying. The exact brand of Louisiana coffee she'd mentioned liking once, ages ago. Even the arrangement of spices—alphabetized, just as she kept hers. When she found the delicate blue teacup set her grandmother had owned, tears pricked her eyes. This wasn't just a kitchen stocked for a human visitor. This was her kitchen, recreated with such meticulous care it could only be an act of devotion.

Eric had made sure she felt completely at home, in the only space that would be hers alone, in his home.

She ended up making herself some pancakes with blueberries and honey, along with a large bowl of coffee, and decided to eat them in the living room where there was a large flat-screen TV.

She flipped through channels until settling on a cooking show, the host's cheerful voice filling the silence while her thoughts remained tangled in her dream. The image of Eric waiting—faithful, patient, and ultimately alone and miserable—as decades slipped away without her return clawed at her heart with icy fingers. She could never do that to him again.

The cooking show blurred into background noise as Sookie checked the clock in the corner: 2 p.m. Hours to go before sunset. She abandoned her half-eaten pancakes and wandered down the hallway, fingertips trailing along the cool walls until she found herself in Eric's office. "Not like I'm snooping," she muttered, justifying herself to the empty room. "He's the one who locked me in here without the security code."

The bookshelves drew her attention—row upon row of leather-bound volumes, their spines cracked with use. Byron. Keats. Shakespeare. Her fingers paused on a weathered copy of Wuthering Heights, its pages yellowed with age. She pictured Eric, the fierce Viking vampire, absorbed in Heathcliff and Catherine's tortured romance, and a smile tugged at her lips.

As she slid the book back into place, something clicked. The bookcase shifted, revealing the gleaming metal door of a safe embedded in the wall. "Well, well," she whispered, crouching down. "What secrets are you keeping here, Eric Northman?"

Sookie bit her lip, staring at the keypad. She had no security code to leave the house—why would Eric have shared his safe combination? Still, her fingers hovered over the numbers. This crossed a line, didn't it? But then again, so did recreating her kitchen down to Gran's teacups without asking. Her conscience flickered, then dimmed as curiosity won out.

07142004, the date she had first gone to Fangtasia.

01252005, Dallas.

05102005, Mississippi.

12202005. When she saw him a few days before Christmas, wearing a sexy Santa Claus costume.

02112006. When he made her laugh genuinely.

10152007. When she left with Claudine.

And finally,

10222012. The day she came back.

Bingo.

The safe swung open with a soft click. Sookie's hand hovered at the edge, her conscience warring with curiosity. This was crossing a line—but hadn't he already crossed several of hers?

Stacks of hundred-dollar bills filled the front compartment—enough cash to buy half of Bon Temps. Behind them lay a portfolio bulging with property deeds: elegant script detailing holdings across Louisiana, New York, Paris, London. A weathered parchment marked land in Ösland. Newer documents showed an Icelandic estate, a Swedish apartment, a Swiss Alpine retreat.

"Good Lord," she whispered, fingers trembling as she leafed through automobile titles—dozens of them. Classic Cadillacs, vintage Porsches, cars she'd never even heard of. The Corvette was just the tip of Eric's vehicular iceberg.

Fangtasia's deed appeared, followed by five other Shreveport properties and something in Manhattan. A nightclub empire she'd never known about.

"Enough," she muttered, shame finally overtaking curiosity. As she moved to close the safe, a wooden box tucked beneath some papers caught her eye. Inside lay carved tokens—ancient-looking runes and animal figures on leather cords. Beneath a delicately embroidered handkerchief that smelled faintly of another century, she found herself staring back. Her seventh birthday. High school graduation. Standing beside Gran on the porch. Every photograph she'd assumed lost when the maenad destroyed her home—preserved here in Eric's most intimate vault. Her fingers traced her own face through the decades, her throat tightening. She couldn't decide if this was devotion or invasion, but somewhere deep inside, she understood: he had been keeping her safe the only way he could.

Tucked beneath the stack of her own memories lay a single photograph, its sepia tones betraying its age—a woman's face gazing across time from another century, her features soft and delicate yet holding a determined gaze. Her hair styled in a classic updo, adorned with a simple ribbon. The lines on her face tell of a life filled with both joy and hardships.

On the back it said: To my love.

Sookie traced her finger over the faded inscription. A thousand years of existence—Eric must have loved before. Physical relationships were one thing; she'd long accepted his centuries of liaisons. But true love? The kind that preserved photographs and built kitchens exactly to specification? She realized she'd never actually asked him if his heart had belonged to another before her, if he'd ever pledged himself completely to someone else across his vast lifetime.

Time slipped away like water through her fingers, and as the late afternoon shadows lengthened across the office floor, Eric appeared in the doorway. His eyes softened at the sight of Sookie curled on his leather sofa, Wuthering Heights splayed across her rising and falling chest, her golden hair fanned out against the dark upholstery.

Eric's eyes swept the office, cataloging the subtle shifts in his meticulously ordered domain—the portfolio angled two degrees off center, the wooden box not quite flush against the safe's back wall. A millennium of survival had taught him to notice such details instantly. Rather than anger, a smile played at the corners of his mouth. She had figured out his combination, dates that marked their shared history. He found it oddly endearing that after breaking into his most private sanctuary, she'd been careless enough to leave evidence.

He knelt beside the sofa, brushing his lips against her forehead. Sookie's eyes fluttered open, heat rushing to her cheeks as she caught sight of the safe behind him.

"Curious little telepath," he murmured, glancing at the slightly open door.

She bolted upright, sending Wuthering Heights tumbling to the floor. "Eric, I shouldn't have—"

"Shh." His finger traced the line of her jaw, silencing her. "You're the only one I've ever wanted to know everything." The blue of his eyes seemed to hold centuries within them. "All I have belongs to you now."

The simple truth in his words made her throat tighten.

"Speaking of belongings..." He offered her a manila folder. "This one slipped your notice."

She accepted it with trembling fingers. Inside lay a document she recognized instantly—her family home's deed, with "Stackhouse, Sookie" typed in crisp black letters. "This one," he said softly, "I saved for last."

The deed slipped from Sookie's fingers as she launched herself into Eric's arms, her tears dampening the collar of his shirt. She drew back just enough to search his face, her fingertips tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone while words tangled in her throat.

"Eric, I...I..." She stammered. "...Thank you," The simple phrase carrying everything she couldn't articulate.

His lips curved into that smile she'd first seen across a crowded bar eight years ago. "The pleasure is mine," he murmured, his hands finding their place at her waist.

"Though speaking of pleasure..." His eyebrow arched suggestively. "I believe we have unfinished business from last night."

Sookie's pulse quickened at his words, her breath catching in her throat. "Are you still hungry?" she asked hesitantly.

"Another kind of hunger," he growled, his eyes flashing an electric blue as he lifted her and threw her back onto the sofa. Eric loomed over her, his fangs descending involuntarily with an audible click that sent shivers racing down her spine. His massive hands trembled with restraint as he held himself above her, poised like a predator about to strike.

With a primal roar, he tore through her clothing, leaving her completely exposed. "Much better," he rasped, his voice barely human.

"Those were new," Sookie gasped, feeling the cool air on her skin.

"They were in my way," Eric replied before lowering his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss that ignited a fire within them both. Their tongues danced together in perfect harmony as they explored and tasted each other's mouths.

His cool lips traced a path down her neck and across her collarbone, lingering over the pulse point where her heartbeat thrummed strongest beneath her skin. Though the scent of her blood called to him like a siren's song, he merely pressed his mouth against the spot without breaking the skin. The taste of her still lingered from hours before—a memory as fresh as if he'd just drunk from her.

Sookie moaned in ecstasy as she felt the cold lips on her hot skin. As Eric kept hovering on Sookie's neck, he let his hand roam across her body. His fingers grazed across her hardened nipples and trailed down to tease at the wetness pooling between her thighs.

She gasped as he dipped two fingers inside of her, moving rhythmically alongside the motion of his lips now on hers. Her cries grew louder as Eric's fingers curled against a secret spot within her core that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her body.

Sookie gasped, her body arching off the bed as Eric's skilled fingers found their way to her most sensitive spot. The sensation was so intense that she couldn't form coherent thoughts. His deep voice rumbled against her ear, his breath cold and heavy against her skin. "Scream for me," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe before circling it with his tongue.

She did as he commanded, her cries echoing through the empty house. Her body trembled under his touch, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. She couldn't help but wriggle beneath him, desperate for more of the exquisite sensations he was causing. His touch was both gentle and demanding, expertly coaxing her towards climax.

"Do you like this, lover?" he asked softly, his words a husky rasp that sent shivers down her spine.
"Yes," she managed to utter between gasps. "Oh Jesus... YES, ERIC!"

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers from her wet heat, leaving a trail of tingling need behind. Sookie whimpered in protest as he moved between her legs, positioning his thick and long manhood at her entrance. Their eyes locked in a heated gaze filled with desire and need. With one powerful thrust, he was inside of her—deeper than she'd ever been filled before. Sookie cried out in ecstasy, every muscle in her body tensing up before exploding in a wave of euphoria that left her weak-kneed and panting for breath.

"Fuck!" Eric growled against her neck as he began moving inside of her in long, steady strokes that matched the rhythm of their combined heartbeats. His size filled her completely; she could feel every inch of him stretching and filling her tight sheath with each thrust. Sookie clung to him, nails digging into his back as she rode out the powerful waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Their skins melded together as they moved together in perfect syncopation; nothing else mattered but this moment—their connection and their shared need for release. The feeling of him filling her completely stirred an all-consuming desire within them both. With each thrust, they lost themselves in a passionate dance that spoke volumes about their love and devotion, even though neither of them had said the words.

Sookie's now-liberated moans and gasps punctuated the air, creating a symphony of lust and connection that only they shared. The pressure built like a storm between them until Sookie, driven by instinct, seized Eric's golden hair in her fist and wrenched his head aside with supernatural strength. Her human teeth broke his marble skin like lightning striking earth, and the first rush of his blood hit her system as a true life force. Eric's roar shook the foundations of the house as his body convulsed—not from the feeding but from the knowledge that it was his Sookie, his lover, claiming him completely.

Their bodies fused at every point as the climax detonated through them both, her screams and his bellows becoming one voice that shattered the night silence. Sookie cried out Eric's name as waves of pulsating bliss washed over her. Eric buried his face in Sookie's neck, muffling his own primal groans as he released himself deep inside her.

Their bodies still quivered together, aftershocks rippling between them like electricity. Eric's cool lips brushed against Sookie's temple, lingering there as if memorizing the taste of her skin.

"Min älskade," he murmured against her ear, his ancient accent thickening with emotion, "hela mitt liv har jag letat efter dig. Med dig är jag född och med dig ska jag dö."

"Translation please?" Sookie smiled against his marble-cool chest. The buzz of Eric's phone cut through their intimacy, vibrating against the hardwood where his jeans lay in a crumpled heap. His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips.

"Eric?" Sookie pushed herself up on one elbow, the afterglow fading from her cheeks as she registered his expression. His entire body had gone statue-still, the kind of stillness only the undead could achieve.

He held his phone like it might detonate. "I was afraid this would happen." He sighed. "The Amun Clan is summoning me to a meeting tomorrow night in Kentucky," he said, each word precise as a blade. The tendon in his neck jumped once.

"That's... not good?" Her voice lifted, uncertain.

Eric's gaze finally found hers, blue eyes carrying the weight of ten centuries. "Not for Sophie-Anne. Her reign won't survive the week." The sigh that escaped him carried genuine regret, surprising Sookie with its depth. "I must leave today."

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 29: My Beloved

"Eric?" Sookie pushed herself up on one elbow, the afterglow fading from her cheeks as she registered his expression. His entire body had gone statue-still, the kind of stillness only the undead could achieve.
He held his phone like it might detonate. "I was afraid this would happen." He sighed. "The Amun Clan is summoning me to a meeting tomorrow night in Kentucky," he said, each word precise as a blade. The tendon in his neck jumped once.
"That's... not good?" Her voice lifted, uncertain.
Eric's gaze finally found hers, blue eyes carrying the weight of ten centuries. "Not for Sophie-Anne. Her reign won't survive the week." The sigh that escaped him carried genuine regret, surprising Sookie with its depth. "I must leave today."

Chapter 30: Withdrawal

Eric folded a black silk shirt with practiced efficiency. "I need you to come with me."

Sookie's hands found her hips. "Again? We just got back from New Orleans. I've got contractors waiting at the new Merlotte's." She softened her tone. "I'll miss you too, but I can't drop everything every time vampire politics calls."

"This isn't about politics, Sookie" Eric's voice remained level as he placed another shirt in his suitcase. "The third blood exchange we completed has consequences. We can't be separated for months."

"What?" Sookie took a step back. "That's information I should have had before."

"I didn't anticipate traveling this much. I thought we'd be here in Shreveport."

"Here? You mean in this house?" Her eyes swept across the room with its carefully chosen furnishings. "Is that why everything here feels like it was designed for me? Some elaborate trap?"

Eric set down a pair of folded pants, his ancient eyes meeting hers. "I wanted to build something for us. I thought we were beyond this."

"I need to choose my own path, not step into one you've carved out for me."

"Then choose. Any home, anywhere. But you can't blame me for imagining a future together."

Sookie perched on the edge of the bed, studying her hands. "Is there any way I can stay here without affecting our bond?"

Eric sat down next to her on the bed and placed his hand on her knee. "I'll leave some of my blood with you, for you to take daily."

"Will I have to do the same?"

"I don't think it's necessary, but I'm not sure I want to take any chances."

"All right, let's do it."

Eric's private jet cut through the night toward Kentucky. He'd timed his arrival precisely—two hours before dawn would give him just enough time to check into the vampire hotel in Louisville. The summons had been for him alone, confirmation that the Amun Clan saw him as Sophie-Anne's natural successor. Whatever had transpired in New Orleans had accelerated their timeline. As the lights of cities passed beneath him, Eric's loyalty to his queen warred with political reality. Twelve regents stood against her single crown. The math was as merciless as vampire politics had always been.

For three hours, Eric stared at the dark clouds below, his reflection ghostly in the window. If the Amun Clan crowned him king, would Sookie stand beside him or vanish like morning mist? His thousand-year-old hands tightened on the armrests. Despite their blood bond, despite her fierce declarations, a hollow space remained in his chest where certainty should live. He'd survived plagues, wars, and the deaths of everyone he'd ever loved—yet the thought of Sookie walking away left him more vulnerable than a stake to the heart.

A new sensation threaded through his thoughts—a tightening beneath his ribs that pulled south toward Louisiana. The blood bond, stretching thin across the miles, whispering that he belonged elsewhere. Not a warning of danger to Sookie, but the bond's own selfish nature asserting itself. Like a jealous lover, it would tolerate no separation, would drive them together until boundaries blurred and two became one. Only in proximity would this supernatural leash slacken its grip.

This wasn't his first blood bond. Once before, between wars, he had forged such chains between himself and another. The memory lay buried beneath carefully constructed walls—walls he would need to dismantle for Sookie's sake. By now, her little curious fairy would have discovered the photograph he'd never quite been able to destroy.

His past bond had taught him what lay ahead—the fresh connection to Sookie, barely days old, would make their separation excruciating. Not mere discomfort, but a hollow ache that would carve through muscle and memory alike. He ran his thumb across the small vial of her blood nestled in his cooler, the only relief during the journey ahead.

He'd left a crystal vial of his blood on Sookie's nightstand, alongside a note explaining the dosage. Now, staring into the darkness beyond the plane window, he found himself whispering ancient Norse words—prayers to his gods– that she would weather their separation better than he already was.

Back in Bon Temps, Sookie placed Eric's blood in the refrigerator, nestled between her sweet tea and leftover jambalaya. The crystal vial caught the light as she closed the door. She tiptoed past Amelia's room—her roommate had practically collapsed after their New Orleans trip—and slipped into her own bedroom, where the ceiling fan spun lazy circles above her empty bed.

1 a.m. came and went. Two. Three. Her sheets twisted around her legs like Spanish moss. Every time she closed her eyes, fragments of that dream flickered behind her eyelids. If she woke screaming tonight, Eric's cool hands wouldn't be there to steady her trembling shoulders. He was somewhere over Tennessee by now, flying toward Kentucky because she'd insisted on staying behind. Independent Sookie Stackhouse, just like she'd always wanted.
By dawn, she'd worn a path between her bed and the hallway window. When exhaustion finally dragged her under, it wasn't rest but a series of half-wakings—her hand reaching across empty sheets, finding nothing but the phantom impression of where his body should have been: right by her side.

Eric texted Sookie from the hotel lobby: "Arrived safely. Try to sleep, little one." He could feel her restlessness pulsing through their bond like a heartbeat beneath his skin. The digital clock on his phone showed nearly an hour until dawn, but he found himself heading toward his light-tight suite anyway. Without Sookie's warmth beside him, the remaining night hours stretched empty before him. Tomorrow would demand every ounce of his strength—especially with this new hollow ache spreading through his chest, the bond between them pulling taut across state lines, demanding to be satisfied.

He lay on his side, one arm stretched across the empty sheets where Sookie would have been. A strange wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes. When he touched his fingertips to his face, they came away stained crimson.
"For fuck's sake," he whispered, quickly wiping away the evidence. He closed his eyes, willing the approaching dawn to claim him in temporary oblivion.

Sookie peeled her eyes open at noon, her body a battlefield of invisible wounds. Each heartbeat felt smaller than the last, as if the muscle itself was retreating behind her ribs. When she swung her legs over the bed, the room tilted dangerously. Still, she had insisted on staying behind, on maintaining her independence. This separation had better justify its cost.

She retrieved Eric's crystal vial from the refrigerator, the liquid inside catching sunlight as she uncapped it. One careful sip slid down her throat, cool at first, then warming like whiskey. The relief came, but only as a whisper where she needed a shout. The blood was just a poor substitute for what the bond truly craved—his physical presence, his skin against hers, the weight of him nearby. For now, this crimson compromise would have to suffice.

"Well, look who's finally up," Amelia chirped, sweeping into the kitchen with her usual morning energy. Her eyes fixed on the crystal vial in Sookie's hand. "Interesting breakfast choice."

Sookie slipped the vial behind her back, but Amelia just laughed.

"Relax. I've got no interest in Viking blood. That's one supernatural roller coaster I'm perfectly happy to skip."

"Got anything planned today?" Amelia asked, leaning against the counter.

Sookie's throat felt tight, as if the bond were physically choking her. "Cemetery visit first... then the construction site... maybe see Jason and Anya before—" She stopped, suddenly aware she was still mentally carving her day around sunset. The hollow space in her chest throbbed.

"Eric's not around?" Amelia's eyebrows lifted.

"Is it that obvious?" Sookie attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Written all over you, hon."

Sookie's finger circled the edge of her mug, round and round like her thoughts.

"Kentucky," she said finally. "Some vampire meeting with the Amun clan. After that bloodbath in New Orleans..." Her voice trailed off.

Amelia frowned. "He just took off without you?"

Sookie watched her coffee tremble with each heartbeat, tiny earthquakes in a porcelain world. "I told him to go without me. Independence. That's what I wanted, right?" The word hung between them, heavy as regret.

"Amelia, would you mind sticking around today?" Sookie's fingers tightened around her mug.

Amelia tilted her head. "What, like your babysitter?"

"It's just—" Sookie swallowed, staring at the empty chair where Eric should be. "I don't want to be alone."

"Listen, I don't claim to get whatever vampire blood bond you've got going on with tall, blond, and dead." Amelia squeezed Sookie's shoulder. "But I know withdrawal when I see it. I'll clear my schedule."

Sookie knelt by Gran's headstone, brushing away pine needles and setting fresh daisies on the grass. Her fingers traced the dates, then moved to her parents' smaller markers nearby. A rectangular patch of freshly exposed dirt marked where her own tombstone had stood until three weeks ago. Sookie ran her fingers over the edge where new grass hadn't yet taken root. Nothing quite prepares you for standing on the spot where people once mourned you, she thought, especially when your parents' and Gran's stones still cast their shadows nearby.

"You okay over there?" Amelia called from where she stood with Alcide at the cemetery gate.

Sookie nodded, grateful for the werewolf's distant vigilance. She'd overheard Amelia whispering to him earlier about "blood bond withdrawal" and "giving her space."

"You pulled solo guard duty today?" Amelia asked Alcide, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers.

"Tray could join tomorrow, if that works better for everyone." His eyes lingered on Amelia's face.

She ducked her head, sudden color rising in her cheeks.

Sookie surveyed the new Merlotte's rising from the ashes of the old. The fresh timber skeleton stood exactly where Sam's bar had once welcomed the residents of Bon Temps.

"This came for you this morning," the contractor said, wiping sweat from his forehead before handing her a cream-colored envelope embossed with "C.C. Constructions."

Sookie's fingers trembled as she passed it to Amelia. "Familiar?"

"God, he never quits," Amelia muttered, her jaw tightening.

The letter inside offered congratulations in flowing script, followed by thinly veiled offers of "assistance" that made Amelia tear it into confetti.

"Classic Copley power move," she said, letting the pieces flutter to the dirt. "Intimidating. 'I see you, I know where you are, I'm watching.'"

Sookie managed a nod, but the emptiness inside her had become a physical weight, dragging at her arms and legs like invisible chains. She stumbled on the gravel path, catching herself against Amelia's shoulder. "I can't make it to Jason's," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the construction noise behind them. "Just take me home before I collapse right here."

Alcide followed them into Sookie's living room, his eyes tracking her movements as she dragged a quilt from the hall closet and collapsed onto the sofa. Her skin had gone pale as milk, tiny beads of sweat gathering at her hairline despite the cool air.

"This is worse than I expected," Amelia said, perching on the armchair's edge. She leaned forward, studying Sookie's trembling hands and unfocused gaze.

"What's happening to her?" Alcide asked, nostrils flaring slightly.

"You really don't see it?" Amelia's voice dropped to a whisper.

Alcide crouched beside the sofa, inhaling deeply near Sookie. His eyes widened. "Christ, Sookie, tell me you didn't—"

"It's done," Amelia cut in. "I witnessed it myself."

Sookie's eyes flashed cold as Louisiana swamp water in January. When she locked gazes with Amelia, the witch actually flinched and took a half-step back.
"Alcide," Sookie said, her Southern accent thickening with each syllable, "I appreciate your concern, but this particular situation falls under the category of 'not up for discussion.'"

Alcide retreated across the hardwood floor, hands lifted in surrender. His mouth tightened into a thin seam as understanding dawned across his weathered face. Five years might have passed, but some things about Sookie Stackhouse hadn't changed—when that steel entered her voice, even an alpha werewolf knew to back down.

Night fell like a velvet curtain. Alcide glanced at his watch and mentioned the shift change in Eric's security detail just as knuckles rapped against the front door. Amelia pressed a heating pad into Sookie's trembling hands before hurrying to answer.

"Pam," Amelia said, her voice catching slightly. The familiar flutter returned to her stomach—a ghost sensation from years ago when she'd misread signals between them. That first meeting had sparked something in Amelia that Pam clearly never reciprocated, leaving her with nothing but this awkward warmth whenever they crossed paths.

"Well, hello there," Pam drawled from the threshold, her gaze lingering on Amelia before flicking toward the living room. "Sookie, a little hospitality would be appreciated."

"Pam, please come in," Sookie managed, attempting to sit upright before gravity reclaimed her against the cushions.

Pam's cool gaze swept over Sookie's trembling form.

"Well, isn't this familiar."

"What are you talking about?" Sookie's eyes tracked Pam as she glided into the room.

"My master's shaking like a newborn fawn in Kentucky right now." Pam examined her manicure with exaggerated interest. "Quite the spectacle during a pretty serious meeting with the Amun clan. He sent me to confirm if you were equally... compromised." Her lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"Have you been keeping up with your... medication schedule?" Pam's eyebrow arched perfectly.

"I might've missed the afternoon..." Sookie's voice trailed off.

Amelia was already at the refrigerator, retrieving a small vial with crimson contents that caught the lamplight.

Alcide's nostrils flared and his face contorted in disgust. "I'll check the perimeter once more," he muttered, already backing toward the door. "Tomorrow, ladies." The screen door slammed behind him before anyone could respond.

"What's happening to me, Pam?" Sookie whispered, the vial trembling against her lips as she swallowed Eric's blood.

Pam's eyes narrowed. "Bond sickness. You two shouldn't have put states between you."

"But I'm still taking his blood," Sookie said, wiping a crimson drop from her chin.

"Blood is just one of many things." Pam's fingernails tapped against her thigh. "The bond demands skin, breath, presence. It's ancient magic—two beings becoming a single entity." Her lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Try explaining to the bond why half of that entity is in Kentucky while the other half shivers in Louisiana."

Sookie's breath escaped in a shuddering sigh.

"Precisely why I've avoided such entanglements myself," Pam said, tilting her hand to catch the light on her glossy nails. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Do you have any idea what it means that Eric allows this separation? No vampire willingly subjects themselves to such... discomfort. He must really love you indeed." She finally said without looking up.

"Love me?" The words seemed to inject strength into Sookie's limbs as she pushed herself upright on the sofa.

Pam extracted a compact mirror from her purse, examining her reflection with clinical precision. "Eric's survived a thousand years by guarding his words carefully, among other things. He may never say it directly. But a vampire who suffers bond sickness willingly?" Her eyes flicked briefly to Sookie's face. "Actions reveal what lips refuse to admit."

Pam's words hit Sookie like a physical blow. Her vision blurred as tears escaped down her face, each droplet carrying the weight of realization. All this time Eric had been nothing but showing what he couldn't say in words: that he loved her. And what had she done? Let him travel alone to Kentucky, weakened by their separation, facing vampire politics in a compromised state.

The heating pad scorched against her stomach as she drew her knees closer to her chest, each pulse of the bond twisting inside her like barbed wire.

"Pam?" Her voice cracked.

"Mm?" Pam's eyebrow arched slightly.

"Would you mind staying tonight?" Sookie whispered.

Something flickered across Pam's face—surprise, perhaps reluctance—before Amelia stepped forward.

"I've got the day shift anyway," she said, giving Pam's shoulder a light squeeze. "She's all yours."

Eric stirred beneath silk sheets as the sun hung low on the horizon. A millennium of existence had granted him this small mercy—waking before true nightfall while younger vampires remained dead to the world. His temples throbbed with each unnecessary breath, his mouth cotton-dry despite having fed the previous night. This wasn't blood-hunger but something worse—a phantom ache that reminded him of mead-soaked nights in his human days, when he and his warriors had drunk until dawn beside roaring longhouse fires.

The bond-sickness clawed at his insides, demanding Sookie's presence. He forced himself upright, straightening the cuffs of his tailored suit. The Amun clan would be waiting, and they must not glimpse this weakness. Though loyalty to Sophie-Anne remained his public stance, the whispers of kingship that had reached his ears didn't sound entirely unappealing.

Eric's rental car crunched over the gravel drive leading to Queen Marjorie's estate. The Kentucky monarch—turned in her mid-forties nearly four centuries ago—had reclaimed her human homeland after the Great Revelation. The mansion rose before him, all Colonial precision and understated power. Symmetrical rows of black-shuttered windows watched his approach like vigilant sentries. Iron stars studded the red brick exterior, not mere decoration but structural anchors that had held the walls together through centuries of Kentucky winters. Twin chimneys bookended the steep gabled roof, while the center doorway—framed in pale limestone that glowed amber in the porch light—beckoned with deceptive welcome.

Eric noted how the surrounding oaks and maples screened the property from prying eyes. Perfect for a vampire queen's court, he thought, straightening his tie as he approached.

"Eric!" Marjorie's voice carried across the gravel drive as he stepped from his car. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

He took her outstretched hand, bowing slightly as he brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Marjorie. A pleasure, as always."

The faces waiting inside would be familiar—the same vampires who'd gathered every few months since Sophie-Anne's authority began to crack. Five years of these political dances, five years of Eric crafting eloquent defenses for a queen whose reign was slipping through her fingers like Louisiana sand. His prepared remarks felt hollow in his mind, worn thin from repetition.

As Marjorie led him by the arm toward the waiting assembly, her nostrils flared subtly. She halted mid-stride, her fingernails digging slightly into his sleeve. "My, my, Eric," she murmured, her voice dropping to ensure privacy. "Someone has quite thoroughly marked your heart, haven't they?"

Eric steadied himself against the momentary vertigo, his lips curving into a smile that betrayed nothing of his discomfort. "Indeed," he replied, voice low and steady despite the pull in his chest. "I have taken a bonded companion."

"How delightful," Marjorie's eyes gleamed with interest. "Have you considered making it official?"

Eric steadied himself against the doorframe, masking the gesture as casual confidence. "A blood pledge, you mean?"

"Indeed." Her fingertips brushed his sleeve. "Our kind's sacred vow." Marjorie had always maintained a romantic's heart despite centuries of undeath, collecting love stories like precious gems.

"The knife and cloth… the thought has crossed my mind," Eric replied, his voice betraying none of the longing that pulled at his chest. "Though she deserves proper courtship first, wouldn't you agree? Immortality affords certain... luxuries of patience." His smile didn't quite mask the tremor in his voice.

"Well, I shall await my formal invitation." Marjorie's eyes glittered with centuries of mischief. "And if you require an officiant for such a sacred ritual, I would be honored to bind the mighty Northman to this mysterious woman who has marked you so thoroughly. The scent of her claim on you is... quite extraordinary."

The last sentence made Eric's latent heart rejoice a little in the midst of this storm of separation. Sookie had marked him, both inside and out, and it did not go unnoticed. Good, Eric thought. He wanted everyone to know about his new status.

Marjorie paused before the French doors. Beyond them waited twelve vampire regents, their collective power spanning from the Mississippi Delta to the Great Lakes. Tonight they would determine Sophie-Anne's fate—and perhaps Eric's as well.

"Are you ready?" Marjorie's fingers pressed into the fabric of his sleeve with surprising gentleness.

Eric studied her face, catching something beneath her words that made his instincts prickle. The bond-sickness clouded his thoughts, his skin burning with impossible fever, the hallway before him splitting into wavering doubles.

"I'm sorry, for what exactly?" he managed, steadying himself against the doorframe.

"Don't tell me you don't know why you were summoned, Viking." Her crimson lips curved upward as she swung the doors open.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 30: Marjorie paused before the French doors. Beyond them waited twelve vampire regents, their collective power spanning from the Mississippi Delta to the Great Lakes. Tonight they would determine Sophie-Anne's fate—and perhaps Eric's as well.
"Are you ready?" Marjorie's fingers pressed into the fabric of his sleeve with surprising gentleness.
Eric studied her face, catching something beneath her words that made his thousand-year instincts prickle. The bond-sickness clouded his thoughts, his skin burning with impossible fever, the hallway before him splitting into wavering doubles.
"I'm sorry, for what exactly?" he managed, steadying himself against the doorframe.
"Don't tell me you don't know why you were summoned, Viking." Her crimson lips curved upward as she swung the doors open.

Chapter 31: Bad timing

Harsh fluorescent light stabbed at Eric's eyes, making him squint. The bond-sickness heightened every sensation, a poor state to be in when facing the 12 regents of the Amun clan who now sat in judgment of Sophie-Anne. His mind raced through possible explanations for the New Orleans massacre—the bodies of four sheriffs and their seconds now ashes on marble floors. No vampire council would dismiss such bloodshed easily, especially not one already looking for reasons to dethrone his queen.

"Dear friends, our guest of honor has arrived," Marjorie announced with theatrical flair.
Eric blinked against the harsh light, forcing his fever-addled mind to catalog the gathering. Russell Edgington lounged beside his husband Bartlett, their fingers intertwined despite the formality of the occasion. Queen of Minnesota, Maude's silver hair gleamed under the fluorescents as she whispered something to her husband, Joel, King of Wisconsin. Isaac, King of Missouri, drummed his fingers impatiently against the polished table. Phoebe, Queen of Iowa, and her husband Theodore, King of Ohio, sat with matching expressions of cool assessment, while Meredith, Queen of Alabama, studied her blood-red nails with affected boredom. Vivianne, Queen of Tennessee, caught Marjorie's eye with a look of genuine affection—another rare love match among vampires. Daniel, King of Michigan, and Winona, Queen of Illinois, completed the circle of regents. But it was the figure in the shadows that made Eric's stomach clench: Madelaine. Her presence here made no sense at all.

"Magnificent!" Russell rose slightly from his chair, his eyes gleaming with genuine warmth. "The Viking graces us with his presence." He offered a small smile that reminded Eric of the night he'd bound Russell and Bartlett in matrimony by choice and love—a rare moment of joy in their blood-soaked world.
Eric's gaze swept the council chamber, remembering the last gathering without Madelaine's shadow lurking in the corner. They'd ordered him to report on Sophie-Anne's failings then, expecting betrayal dressed as duty. He'd nodded, returned to New Orleans, and kept his queen's secrets. Even as her grip on reality loosened, Eric had believed in her recovery.
"Louisiana and Arkansas cannot continue under compromised leadership," Isaac had declared at that meeting, tapping financial reports with manicured fingers. "The investment portfolios alone require... steadier hands." The unspoken truth hung in the air: Sophie-Anne's reign was measured in months, not centuries.

Eric sank into a formal bow, "Your Majesties honor me with this audience." His eyes flicked to the shadow-dwelling sheriff. "Though I wasn't aware this gathering included... colleagues."
Vivianne's lips thinned to a bloodless line. "Sheriff Strauss brought certain matters to our attention." Her voice carried none of the affection she'd shown Marjorie moments before. "We felt her firsthand account would complement whatever version of events you might share."

"I see," Eric said, the words scraping his throat like broken glass.

"Won't you join us?" Marjorie indicated an empty chair with a graceful sweep of her hand.

Eric lowered himself with deliberate control, his thousand-year pride refusing to let the bond-sickness bring him to his knees before the assembled royalty of the Amun clan.

"We await your explanation," Daniel said, his marble features betraying nothing.

Eric's voice remained steady as he detailed the sequence of events—Sophie-Anne summoning her sheriffs, the Arkansas faction's betrayal, and the bloody aftermath that followed. When he mentioned Madelaine's eventual pledge of loyalty, his eyes flicked deliberately to the shadowed corner where she lurked.

"Your Majesties surely understand the nature of insurrection," Eric said, spreading his hands. "Our oaths to the crown of Louisiana and Arkansas demanded action, however... messy."

Joel leaned forward, fangs partially extended. "Yet you conveniently forgot your other obligation, Northman. In this chamber, not twelve months past, we commanded you to monitor your queen's activities."

Eric met his gaze without flinching. "I observed nothing worthy of your attention." The lie rolled from his tongue with the ease of breathing—a human habit he'd never quite abandoned.

"Have we shifted from Sophie-Anne's judgment to the Viking's?" Maude's silver coiffure gleamed under the fluorescents as she straightened her spine. "I must have misread tonight's invitation." Her eyes—the same ones that had sparkled with genuine warmth when hosting Pam in her Minnesota court—now fixed on Eric with unmistakable alliance.
Russell's fingers intertwined with Bartlett's, the ruby on his wedding band glinting. "Such loyalty deserves admiration, not punishment," he said, his Southern drawl honeyed with deliberate charm. "Which among us wouldn't treasure a sheriff willing to bleed for their crown?"

Eric drew air into dead lungs—a human habit that somehow steadied his thoughts when nothing else could. The bond with Sookie thrashed within him like a living thing, a wounded animal clawing at his insides. Every mile between Kentucky and Louisiana was another turn of the knife. The taste of her lingered in his veins, the only thing keeping him upright when he should have collapsed, but even her powerful blood couldn't quiet the desperate beast inside.

Marjorie settled into the chair beside Eric, her eyes never leaving his face. The scent clinging to him was unmistakable, she could noted: Human blood with hints of something more... exquisite. Bond-sickness. She'd seen it only twice before.

"Perhaps we might expedite these proceedings," Marjorie suggested, her voice cutting through the tension. "I believe we all have kingdoms requiring our attention." Her eyes met Eric's briefly—a merciful lifeline.

"Very well," Bartlett interjected. "Eric, the Amun Clan has voted unanimously to depose Sophie-Anne. We would like to offer you the crown of both Louisiana and Arkansas."
Eric's jaw clenched until his fangs threatened to descend. Once, he would have seized this crown with both hands, but now the offer rang hollow. Behind his fever-glazed eyes flashed an image of her farmhouse—those blue gingham curtains he'd hung himself last spring. He could almost smell the night-blooming jasmine he'd planted beneath her bedroom window. The bond-sickness clouded his judgment, but even through the fever, he could see the trap. Two kingdoms meant twice the politics, twice the public scrutiny. Eric imagined Sookie dragged into galas in New Orleans, multiples vampires across the country eyeing her throat, ancient enemies calculating her value as leverage against him. He'd seen her in too many ruined sundresses, her golden skin painted red by those who wanted to hurt her. A throne wasn't worth making her bleed or suffer in any way, never again.

Eric stared at the invisible crown. Once, a few years ago even, he would have seized it without hesitation. Now his veins burned with Sookie's blood, his entire being oriented toward Louisiana like an ancient compass finding true north. Each mile between them was agony. This royal offer, dressed as reward, revealed itself as shackles that would keep him from her farmhouse, her porch, her bed. The council could not have devised a more exquisite torture.

"We would, of course, expect you to take a queen consort befitting your new station," Russell drawled, each syllable dripping Southern honey over a steel blade.
Eric's face betrayed nothing, though his pale fingers whitened against the mahogany armrest. The bond twisted in his chest—Sookie's blood rebelling at the very suggestion.

Eric's mind flashed to countless royal weddings across the centuries—vampires exchanging vows with the warmth of business mergers while their true lovers waited in shadows. He imagined Sookie's face crumpling at such news, and his dead heart clench. He could never do that to her.
Marjorie studied Eric, noting how his shoulders remained perfectly squared despite the fever clearly burning through him. Only the faintest tightening at the corner of his jaw betrayed his agony—a testament to discipline these younger royals could scarcely comprehend, let alone replicate. A thousand years of survival had taught the Viking to wear his mask even when his body was tearing itself apart from within.
"I believe Sheriff Northman deserves time to consider such a weighty proposition," Marjorie said, her cool tone belying the urgency in her eyes.
Isaac's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his pale skin. "We've already reached consensus on the matter of a consort," he said, gesturing toward the silent figure at the table's end. "Queen Meredith's territories would complement Louisiana and Arkansas quite... advantageously."
From her position at the far end of the mahogany expanse, Meredith finally acknowledged Eric's presence. Her gaze traveled the length of him with the practiced assessment of someone appraising a valuable acquisition. Beneath cascades of obsidian hair, her emerald eyes revealed nothing but calculated interest.

Eric's vision blurred at the edges. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him, a weakness he hadn't felt since his human days. Each heartbeat of Sookie's blood inside him screamed in protest—a thousand tiny rebellions against the crown they offered and the queen they'd chosen. He could sooner tear out his own fangs than pledge himself to another woman's bed when every cell in his body belonged to Sookie.

"Your Majesties," Eric said, each syllable carved from ice despite the fire in his veins, "such an honor requires proper contemplation. I've found in my ventures that hasty decisions rarely serve anyone's interests." He swallowed against the impossible nausea twisting through him, never had experienced a blood bond that fought back with such ferocity—one that seemed to have inherited all the stubborn determination of the blonde fairy. The bond-sickness conjured her before him with cruel clarity—golden hair spilling over a white sundress as she stood on the porch steps, fingers extended toward him, that half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth. For a moment, he could have sworn he caught her scent on the stale chamber air—sunshine and honey and something uniquely hers that had haunted him merciless the past few years. His focus fractured…

"One week," Joel announced, his voice bouncing off the cold marble like a pronouncement of execution. Maude's face transformed—the warmth vanishing from her features as her eyes narrowed to obsidian slits.

"Surely," Phoebe murmured, her first words of the evening falling into the chamber like soft velvet over steel, "a throne—two thrones—and a royal consort warrant more than seven sunsets to consider."

Marjorie's alabaster fingers tapped the ancient wood once. "The Viking has earned proper consideration." Her gaze shifted. "Eric?"
"Thirty nights," he answered, each word brittle as Scandinavian permafrost. The deadline meant nothing. With Sookie's blood calling him home and marriage to another on the table, his decision was already made.
Russell's smile spread slowly, the tips of his fangs catching the candlelight. "A full moon cycle, then. We shall eagerly await your... inevitable answer."

Eric rose to his feet, his muscles betraying him with the slightest tremor—a weakness that Madelaine's eyes caught instantly from her silent vigil across the room.

"Very well, then it is time for me to take my leave." Eric said, bowing with measured grace that belied the churning agony beneath his ribs. "I shall consider your generous offer with the gravity it deserves."

"Allow me to escort you out," Marjorie said, rising with fluid grace.
Beyond the ornate French doors, she turned to face him, her ancient eyes narrowing.
"Bond-sickness this severe and you still attended? Foolish, even for you. What were you thinking?"

"To fulfill my duty as Sheriff and member of this Clan, and respect my bonded's wishes not to be dragged into every vampire political contingency," said Eric, as he tugged at the cuffs of his light blue cashmere sweater — an unusual color for him, but tremendously refreshing for anyone who saw it.

"Eric Northman, you're in love with her," Marjorie said, taking a step back, her eyes widening slightly. "It's the only reason to explain your acting so carelessly."

Eric's jaw tightened as he fixed his gaze on the distant treeline.

"You've revealed weakness to vampires who would gladly use it against you," Marjorie pressed, her ancient eyes narrowing.

A muscle flickered in Eric's cheek as he exhaled slowly. The warning came too late—his body already betrayed him with every tremor, every flash of fever that Sookie's blood ignited within him.

"I took precautions," Eric said, his voice rougher than usual. "I didn't expect it to affect me so much."

Marjorie's nostrils flared slightly. "Her essence is... extraordinary. I've never encountered a bond that manifests such physical symptoms. She truly is something else"

Eric glanced toward his waiting car, "I really have to go, Marjorie..." Pleading for the conversation to end.

"She won't like you marrying Meredith," Marjorie called after him as he reached for the car door.

Eric's fingers paused on the handle. "Thirty days," Eric reminded her.

Marjorie's lips curved into a knowing smile before she disappeared back into the mansion.

"A fairy, isn't she?" The voice sliced through the darkness behind him. "That explains a lot."

Eric didn't turn. "Madelaine. I thought you might be lurking."

She circled into view, her pale face luminous in the moonlight. "Such restraint you must practice. Fairy blood is... intoxicating. Perhaps I should sample it myself."

His hand shot out, closing around her throat before she could blink. "You will never touch her."

Madelaine's eyes gleamed despite his grip. "And what would you do to stop me? Since apparently you won't be king after all–"

The words stoked the fire already consuming him. With the last of his control, Eric released her with enough force to send her sprawling across the gravel. His fangs descended involuntarily as he slid behind the wheel. The bag he'd left on the passenger seat meant he wouldn't need to return to the hotel. In moments, he was speeding toward the airfield, every mile bringing him closer to Bon Temps—closer to her.

Eric's body trembled with each mile that separated him from Bon Temps. The private jet's engines hummed beneath him, but even at 500 miles per hour, it felt glacially slow. Only when Louisiana's borders appeared on the pilot's navigation system did the burning in his veins begin to cool. His phone buzzed with Pam's confirmation—his Corvette waited at the airstrip.
The empty highway stretched before him like an invitation. The speedometer needle pushed past 120 as pre-dawn darkness cloaked his recklessness. At Sookie's house, he found the living room bathed in soft lamplight. Pam lounged on the sofa, her aristocratic accent flowing like honey as Amelia leaned forward, wide-eyed and hanging on every word.

"Master," Pam's eyes flicked to the doorway before Eric fully materialized. "She cried herself to sleep," she said, her usual sarcasm absent. "Upstairs."

Eric had sensed her before Pam spoke. "Thank you," he murmured, already moving.

The moonlight through the curtains caught the curve of Sookie's body on her bed, curled tight around herself, tear tracks silvered on her cheeks. She looked smaller somehow against the ancient carved headboard that had witnessed so much between them.

He shed his clothes in the darkness and slid beneath the sheets, his body curving to match hers. His arms enveloped her, careful yet desperate, as if she might dissolve beneath his touch.

"Min älskling," he whispered against her hair, his lips tracing a reverent path down to the hollow of her neck, each kiss a silent promise before her eyelids began to flutter.

"Eric..." Sookie murmured, her fingers finding his hair without her needing to turn. The tension melted from her shoulders as she settled against his chest. "Thought you were just another dream." Her lips curved into a drowsy smile as she drifted between waking and sleep. "I love you," she whispered, the words slurring as consciousness slipped away. Her breathing deepened as she surrendered once more to slumber, her hand still tangled in his hair.

"Min mest värdefulla skatt." Eric's voice cracked as reddish tears traced silent paths down his alabaster cheeks. The words she'd whispered echoed in his chest like a forgotten heartbeat. "Jag kommer aldrig att lämna dig igen." Eric vowed, the ancient Swedish flowing from his lips like a blood crown came at a bad time. His priority would always be Sookie. He would do anything to keep her safe, secure, and as close to him as possible. He would never leave her again. She was now his only desire, and his greatest treasure.

A/N: Thank you very much for all your kudos, I really appreciate them and they make me very happy, especially on days when I need a boost.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 31:

The empty highway stretched before him like an invitation. The speedometer needle pushed past 120 as pre-dawn darkness cloaked his recklessness. At Sookie's house, he found the living room bathed in soft lamplight. Pam lounged on the sofa, her aristocratic accent flowing like honey as Amelia leaned forward, wide-eyed and hanging on every word.

"Master," Pam's eyes flicked to the doorway before Eric fully materialized. "She cried herself to sleep," she said, her usual sarcasm absent. "Upstairs."

Eric had sensed her before Pam spoke. "Thank you," he murmured, already moving.

The moonlight through the curtains caught the curve of Sookie's body on her bed, curled tight around herself, tear tracks silvered on her cheeks. She looked smaller somehow against the ancient carved headboard that had witnessed so much between them.

He shed his clothes in the darkness and slid beneath the sheets, his body curving to match hers. His arms enveloped her, careful yet desperate, as if she might dissolve beneath his touch.

"Min älskling," he whispered against her hair, his lips tracing a reverent path down to the hollow of her neck, each kiss a silent promise before her eyelids began to flutter.

"Eric..." Sookie murmured, her fingers finding his hair without her needing to turn. The tension melted from her shoulders as she settled against his chest. "Thought you were just another dream." Her lips curved into a drowsy smile as she drifted between waking and sleep. "I love you," she whispered, the words slurring as consciousness slipped away. Her breathing deepened as she surrendered once more to slumber, her hand still tangled in his hair.

"Min mest värdefulla skatt." Eric's voice cracked as reddish tears traced silent paths down his alabaster cheeks. The words she'd whispered echoed in his chest like a forgotten heartbeat. "Jag kommer aldrig att lämna dig igen." Eric vowed, the ancient Swedish flowing from his lips like a blood oath. He would never leave her again. His most precious treasure.

Chapter 32: Time Issues

Sookie bolted upright, heart hammering. "Oh sweet Jesus! ERIC!" His scent clung to her pillow, threaded through her sheets, hung in the morning air. Not a dream, then. He'd returned. But with sunlight streaming through her curtains, he wouldn't be beside her.
She fumbled with her robe's belt as she rushed downstairs, making straight for the first-floor closet that concealed his daytime sanctuary. The door wouldn't budge—locked from within.

One corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile as the knot in her chest finally loosened. The restlessness, the ache, the emptiness she'd been fighting—all vanished. Eric was here.

She backed away from the closet, turning the knob quietly until it clicked shut. Her fingertips lingered against her collarbone where her pulse still raced beneath her skin. The smile clung to her lips as she padded toward the kitchen, already tasting the rich coffee waiting to be brewed in the gleaming machine Eric had gifted her. One of his silent promises that he'd be part of her sunlit hours, even when he couldn't witness them himself.

Sookie set down her mug mid-sip, the toast half-eaten on her plate. The coffee might as well have been colored water for all the good it was doing. Her arms felt like they'd been filled with wet cement, and her eyes kept betraying her, fluttering closed despite having slept soundly through the night. Yesterday's fever and chills had vanished, but this bone-deep weariness remained, draping over her like the gray tendrils that hung from Louisiana oaks. Her gaze drifted to the refrigerator, where vials of Eric's blood waited. She tried a small amount, letting the metallic sweetness coat her tongue. Nothing. The message from their bond couldn't be clearer: only fresh from the source would do.

Sookie settled back in her chair, resigned to waiting out the daylight hours until Eric rose. The house felt quieter now, her thoughts less frantic. She smoothed the creased paper Claudine had left her—the one outlining her options about her fairy nature. The words blurred as she stared at them. She'd promised herself this choice would be hers alone, untainted by outside influence. Yet Eric's presence in the house below her feet seemed to hum through the floorboards. She traced the edge of the paper with her fingertip. This was her life, her decision to make. But each time she tried to imagine her future—human or fae—Eric's face materialized in her mind's eye, refusing to be dismissed.

The nightmare from two nights ago clawed its way back into her thoughts. What if accepting her essential spark meant surrendering control of her comings and goings? The image of being yanked into Fairy against her will made her stomach clench. Thirty minutes there could cost her years with Eric—years he had already spent waiting once before.

"Claudine?" Sookie whispered her fairy godmother's name into the empty kitchen, half-expecting nothing.

A shimmer of light warped the air, and suddenly Claudine stood before her, dripping bathwater onto the linoleum. Her dark hair was twisted into a makeshift turban, and her silk robe clung to damp skin.

"You rang?" Claudine's eyebrow arched playfully.
Sookie's mouth fell open. "I didn't think you'd actually—I mean, you're in the middle of—"

"Just finishing my bath." Claudine wrung water from the end of her silk sleeve. "I've been keeping tabs on you from afar. When you weren't well, I nearly intervened, but then your Viking returned." She flashed a knowing smile. "Thought you might appreciate some... privacy."

Sookie's cheeks warmed. "So you know what happened."
Claudine settled into a chair, crossing her legs with fairy grace. Her eyes tracked Sookie's nervous glance toward the hidden closet downstairs.

"Something troubles you," she said, her gaze falling to the document splayed across the kitchen table.

"It's just..." Sookie's voice faltered. "I had this nightmare the other day. I was at some fairy festival, and suddenly all the portals closed. I couldn't get back to Eric." Her words tumbled faster. "I was trapped there while he waited here, not knowing—"

Claudine's laughter tinkled like wind chimes. She caught herself at Sookie's expression and tugged her robe tighter. "Oh, sweet girl. Your human imagination is quite... creative. That's simply not how our world works."

"What do you mean?" Sookie leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table.

Claudine's laugh tinkled like crystal. "Your nightmare isn't how our world works at all. No invisible fairy lasso will drag you to our celebrations." She reached across the table, her damp fingers cool against Sookie's wrist. "And remember how we traveled before? Those with the essential spark—like you and me—simply are where they wish to be. There's no need of portals for us."

Sookie's mind flashed back to that day—no doorway, no shimmering portal, just Claudine's hand in hers and then suddenly standing in Niall's great hall, marble floors gleaming beneath her feet.

"So there's no chance I'll get trapped in Fairy for a day while decades pass here without me?" Sookie's fingers twisted in her lap.
Claudine waved her hand dismissively, water droplets scattering from her sleeve. "Time flows differently between realms, yes, but just a few days ago I attended one of Niall's formal tea ceremonies—four hours of proper fairy etiquette—and returned to find only two days had passed here. The time difference works unpredictable. You, my darling, just had very bad luck."

"Even two days feels like too much." Sookie's fingers twisted the edge of the document until it creased. "Isn't there some way to visit without time slipping away?" She thought of the crystalline pools, the music that seemed to vibrate through her very bones. "I loved it there, but—" Her voice caught as she glanced toward the closet where Eric lay. The sunlight streaming through her kitchen window was both blessing and barrier. "Fairy is part of me now, but he can never follow there, I would have to leave him here." Her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

Claudine's eyes drifted toward the ceiling as she considered.

"Honestly, Sookie, I've never had anyone anchoring me to this realm," she said, her fingers idly wringing the last drops from her sleeve. "Time slips by differently for me. I pop in and out of Fairy without consequence." Her perfect brow furrowed. "We might find a solution, but I simply don't have one ready." She leaned forward. "Is that what's holding you back?"

Sookie's fingers traced the edge of the document. "I tried to make this choice in isolation, but Eric is woven into every possibility now. His face appears in every future I imagine." She glanced toward the closet door. "Five years he waited last time. I can't put him through that again—vanishing without a word."

"There are ways to send messages across realms," Claudine said, flicking her wrist dismissively. "He would know you hadn't abandoned him. That wouldn't be a problem."

Sookie shook her head, unconvinced.

"You were warned about the difficulty of straddling two realms," Claudine said, her voice softening. "The pull of Fairy isn't something you can simply ignore—it's in your blood, your essence. After the transition, that pull will only strengthen." She leaned forward, droplets falling from her sleeve to the table. "There are always prices to pay for power. We'll search for alternatives, but you must prepare yourself for hard choices." Claudine squeezed Sookie's fingers between her cool, damp ones. "Isn't it ironic? The very thing that could give you centuries with Eric might force you to abandon him periodically. The cosmos has a rather twisted sense of humor."

Sookie's laugh came out brittle as sun-dried grass. "Cosmic humor at my expense. Again." She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, eyes fixed on the droplets Claudine's sleeve had left on the table. "What about Eric? Could he ever..." The question hung incomplete.

Claudine's eyebrows shot toward her turban. "A vampire in Fairy? He'd burst into flames under our eternal daylight, then go mad from the scent of fairy blood before the ashes settled."

"Unless you discover some fairy magic that renders vampires immune to sunlight and dampens their bloodlust..." Claudine's voice trailed off as she reached across the table, her cool fingers brushing Sookie's wrist. Her eyes, usually dancing with mischief, had softened to the color of rain. "I'll stand by you regardless, you know. Whatever path you choose, I'll help smooth the way—that's what fairy godmothers do, after all. We'll find a common ground, I promise."

Sookie's throat tightened. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Claudine."

"I know you love him, Sookie" Claudine's lips curved into a knowing smile as she dabbed at a water droplet sliding down her neck. "Your heart races for tall, blond, and dead; nothing make me happier than seeing you happy, my girl. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are not separated again, at least not because you visit Fairy."

Claudine lingered until the creak of floorboards overhead signaled Amelia's awakening. With a squeeze of Sookie's hand and a wink, she dissolved into nothing—there one moment, gone the next.

"Jesus," Amelia mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen with her hair sticking up at odd angles. She squinted at the clock on the microwave. "Is it really that late already?"
Sookie didn't answer, her fingers still tracing the edges of the document spread before her.

"Someone had a late night," Amelia said, eyeing the papers scattered across the table. She reached for the coffee pot. "Pam was here until your vampire showed up around 4 AM. He practically flew through the door." The coffee steamed as she poured it into her mug. "Then Bob kept me up with his jealous yowling—I swear that cat still thinks he's my–"

Amelia's words hung in the air, unfinished. Her coffee mug froze halfway to her lips, eyes widening slightly. Sookie barely registered the sudden silence, her fingers still tracing the edges of the document, thoughts a thousand miles away in a realm of eternal sunlight where Eric could never follow her.

"Got any big plans today? You look better," Amelia said, waving her hand in front of Sookie's vacant stare.

Sookie blinked, surfacing from her thoughts. "I'm still tired. Think I'll stay put until Eric rises."

Her fingers traced the edge of the document again. The decision wasn't hers alone anymore. She'd spent years fiercely guarding her independence, insisting she could handle everything herself. But the blood bond thrumming between her and Eric had changed that calculus entirely. Each time she imagined choosing a path without consulting him, something deep within her protested—a silent reminder that their fates had become irrevocably intertwined now and forever.

The book from the occult book shop suddenly surfaced in Sookie's memory—the one she'd purchased that night with Amelia before Quinn had appeared with his tiger-bright smile. Something about straddling realms, existing between worlds. The answer might be waiting there, between those gilt-edged pages.

"So..." Amelia shifted her weight, coffee mug cradled against her chest. "Pizza later? My treat." When Sookie managed only a nod, Amelia backed toward the doorway. "I'll just be upstairs if—" Her voice softened. "You know."

Sookie's eyes burned. "Amelia, I'm drowning here."

The words spilled out then—the nightmare that had jolted her awake, Niall's impossible deadline, Claudine's damp sleeve dripping onto the kitchen table not twenty minutes earlier.

Amelia set down her mug with quiet determination. "Well, that book of yours could have answers. Let's take a look," She reached across the table, squeezing Sookie's cold fingers. "And Sookie, stop trying to carry all the weight alone, you don't have to do everything by yourself, you know? I'm here for you, I'm not going anywhere".

Pizza boxes accumulated on the coffee table as the afternoon wore on, Sookie and Amelia hunched over the ancient book with napkins tucked under their wrists. The text was frustratingly incomplete—entire sections appeared to have vanished from the pages, leaving ghostly indentations where ink once flowed. These missing fragments seemed to focus primarily on boundary-dwellers: fairies who had established lives straddling both worlds after the earliest fae expeditions discovered humankind. Sookie couldn't tell if time had worn away these crucial passages or if something more deliberate had erased them from existence.

"Sook, wait!" Amelia's voice shot across the room just as Sookie was about to dump the pizza box. Her finger jabbed at a faded paragraph on the yellowed page. "I found something."
Sookie abandoned the greasy cardboard and leaned over Amelia's shoulder. The text described an ancient ceremony—not to halt time's flow, but to bring the separate rhythms of Fairy and Earth into harmony.

"For those blessed with the essential spark, an ancient ceremony exists—the Clockroot Binding. Once, Earth and Faery shared a single heartbeat. Now they drift asunder, it's unpredictable and may cause disturbance to those who cross. Yet by anchoring oneself to both worlds simultaneously, these wayward timestreams may be rejoined.

The ritual demands the season of eclipses—thirty-five sacred days occurring twice yearly when sun and moon shadow each other. The solar eclipse provides the power: a total eclipse secures a full month of harmony, an annular grants a fortnight, while a partial offers but seven days. Once performed, the binding cannot be renewed until the next eclipse season, six full moons later.

The moon's eclipse, though potent for other spells, serves not this purpose.

Beyond synchronizing time, those joined through this binding share deeper connections. Bonds of blood or heart create echoes between worlds. The earthbound partner will dream the fae traveler's journey as living visions. While their beloved wanders Faery, they will sense their path, witness their surroundings, and experience their adventures through closed eyelids."

"This might be my answer," Sookie whispered, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the ancient text. The tightness that had been constricting her chest for days loosened just enough to let her breathe.

Amelia squinted at the yellowed page, her nail following the faded script. "Says here it dates back to the very first crossings. Ancient magic, practically forgotten over generations. Rare, but not impossible."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Sookie padded across the worn floorboards and swung it open.

"Alcide," she said, surprise coloring her voice. "Eric didn't mention you'd still be on guard duty."

The werewolf's broad shoulders filled the doorframe as he shrugged. "His exact words were 'until further notice.' Haven't heard otherwise." He glanced over his shoulder toward the tree line, then lowered his voice. "Everything's secure, but there's something else..." His fingers raked through his dark hair, a gesture Sookie recognized as discomfort.

"Tray's out there," he continued, jerking his chin toward the woods. "Wanted me to find out if Amelia's seeing anyone."

A smile tugged at Sookie's lips. "She's not attached at the moment."

"So he could ask her out? Without stepping on any toes?"

"Tell him he's welcome to try," Sookie said, already picturing the gleam that would light up Amelia's eyes at the news.

"Great, I'll let him know." Alcide shifted his weight, eyes darting past Sookie to the interior of the house. "She around at the moment?"
Sookie's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Tell Tray to wait two minutes, then he can come knock himself."

"Who was at the door?" Amelia asked when Sookie returned.

"Just Alcide checkin' in." Sookie's lips curved into a half-smile. "Tray Dawson's with him today. You remember him from that lunch in New Orleans, right?"

Amelia's cheeks flushed pink as she glanced down at Bob, who was curled at her feet. The cat's yellow eyes seemed almost accusatory. "Oh. Yeah. How is he?" Another knock interrupted them before Sookie could answer.

"I believe that's your cue," Sookie said, settling back with her book.

When Amelia pulled open the door, Tray's broad shoulders filled the frame. His dark hair was combed back, and he'd clearly changed his shirt since patrol.

"Hey there," he said, his voice gruffer than she remembered.
Amelia's breath caught in her throat.

"Hey yourself," she managed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You look..." Tray cleared his throat. "Really good."
Amelia's lips parted in a smile she couldn't suppress.

"Listen, Jimmy Eat World's playing in Shreveport next Friday." He produced a ticket from his back pocket, the edges slightly bent. "Some of us are going. Got an extra if you're interested."

Amelia's fingers hovered over the ticket. Bob meowed sharply from somewhere behind her. There were complications, loose ends she hadn't tied up yet. But it was just a concert with friends, not a marriage proposal. Still, she hesitated long enough that Tray's confident expression began to falter.

"Don't feel obligated, it's just that—"
"I'm overthinking," Amelia interrupted, taking the ticket from his outstretched hand. Her fingers brushed against his calloused palm. "Count me in."

"Great, that's... great." Tray's smile spread across his face like a sunrise, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Amelia felt a flutter in her chest she hadn't experienced in years—dangerous territory with her current situation.

"See you Friday—" she began.

"I'll pick you up at 6?" His voice lifted with the question, one hand braced against the doorframe.

"Perfect," she nodded, suddenly aware of her quickened pulse.

After the door clicked shut, Amelia slid down against it until she was eye-level with Bob, who watched her with unblinking yellow judgment.
"Don't look at me like that, please, I cannot be by myself forever, you know that" she whispered to the cat. "We've got some things to figure out, you and me."

From her spot, Sookie caught every whispered word between Amelia and Tray and after that, Amelia and Bob. The vampire blood coursing through her veins had sharpened her hearing to an almost uncomfortable degree. She waited until Amelia's conversation with the cat fell silent before padding across the room.

"Seems like I'm not the only one carrying burdens alone," Sookie said softly, settling beside her friend.

Amelia's eyes glistened. "Sookie, I… there's something that I—" Her voice caught, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Sookie squeezed her hand. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, we'll figure it out together."

Just as Amelia drew a shaky breath to continue, a cool presence filled the room. Eric stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the darkening sky.
"Evening, ladies," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Amelia clutched Bob against her chest, "Nevermind. Another time" she murmured, rising quickly. Her eyes telling Sookie this wasn't just ordinary gossip being interrupted. "Hey Eric, good to see you recovered" She said before disappearing down the hall.

Sookie watched her go before turning to Eric, who was already crossing the room toward her. The vampire moved with predatory grace, his tall frame now looming over Sookie. Those immortal fingers found her waist with familiar possession, electricity crackling between them.

"Your timing is impeccable," she said, arching an eyebrow.

Eric's eyes darkened, hunger swimming in their depths. "Oh? Save the lecture for dessert, lover," he murmured against her skin. "Dinner's first."

His words promised lots of blood and pleasure, but Sookie's mind kept circling back to Amelia's tear-streaked face and the tremor in her voice before she'd fled the room.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 32:

Just as Amelia drew a shaky breath to continue, a cool presence filled the room. Eric stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the darkening sky.
"Evening, ladies," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Amelia clutched Bob tighter against her chest, "Nevermind. Another time" she murmured, rising quickly. Her eyes telling Sookie this wasn't just ordinary gossip being interrupted. "Hey Eric" She said before dissappearing down the hall.
Sookie watched her go before turning to Eric, who was already crossing the room toward her. The vampire moved with predatory grace, his tall frame now looming over Sookie. Those immortal fingers found her waist with familiar possession, electricity crackling between them.
"Your timing is impeccable," she said, arching an eyebrow.

Eric's eyes darkened, hunger swimming in their depths. "Oh? Save the lecture for dessert, lover," he murmured against her skin. "Dinner's first."

His words promised lots of blood and pleasure, but Sookie's mind kept circling back to Amelia's tear-streaked face and the tremor in her voice before she'd fled the room.

A/N: Lemons ahead. These characters (excepto 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 33: Two rounds

Sookie nestled against Eric's cool skin, her cheek pressed to his chest, her golden hair spilling across his outstretched arm. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. She drew invisible circles over his pale torso, feeling the unnecessary rise and fall of his breathing—a human habit he maintained for her comfort. In the quiet aftermath, they found sanctuary in silence, their bond humming between them like a current that needed no words to be understood.

"So, how was your day, lover?" Eric's voice trailed off, his ancient eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Sookie sat up, drawing the sheet across her chest. "Nope. There's something you have to tell me. I can feel it through our bond."

Eric rose from the bed in one fluid motion, his pale form luminous in the moonlight as he settled against the ornately carved headboard. "I'd rather not burden you with vampire politics tonight–"

"Don't shelter me, Eric," Sookie said, her Southern accent thickening with determination. "If we're really doing this—us—then I need to know everything."

A smile ghosted across Eric's lips before vanishing. For centuries he'd longed for someone who wanted to share his world completely, yet now he hesitated. His voice dropped to a grave timbre.

"Sophie-Anne's reign is ending. The Amun Clan has made their decision. By next month, Louisiana and Arkansas will have a new monarch."

"That's terrible news," Sookie said, chewing her bottom lip. "Sophie-Anne may be a royal pain, but at least we know her brand of trouble. A new monarch could be ten times worse."

Eric's gaze drifted to the window, his jaw tightening.

"Eric Northman, what aren't you telling me?" Sookie's voice sharpened. His fingers flexed against the sheets.

"Well…" Eric started. Sookie's eyes widened. "Sweet Jesus. They want you to wear the crown."

"I've requested time to consider," he said, his voice unnaturally even. "There are... options."

"Options?" Sookie laughed, the sound brittle as glass. "Since when do vampires get to say 'no thank you' to a promotion without losing their heads?"

Eric moved to her in that unsettling vampire way, suddenly before her with his cool palms framing her face. "A thousand years I've lived without a throne. What matters now is this—us. I don't want to accept something that could harm us later."

Sookie's breath caught in her throat as images flashed through her mind—Eric seated on a throne, his face a cold mask as he presided over vampire galas; Eric's empty side of the bed while he attended summits in faraway cities; Eric surrounded by willowy vampire courtiers with centuries of seduction in their arsenal. Worst of all, she pictured him standing between her and some enemy, his broad shoulders tensed as he faced down a threat that had come hunting for his human-fairy weakness.

Sookie's throat tightened as she read the truth in Eric's eyes. A thousand years of survival had taught him to anticipate threats from every shadow—but for the first time, his greatest fear wore her face.

"So my fairy heritage is just another complication," she said, twisting the sheet between her fingers. "Another reason for you to refuse the crown."

Eric's cool palm settled over her restless hands. "The fae world is still largely unknown to me, despite my research. But whatever path you choose, I stand with you."

Sookie met his gaze, her chin lifting with the stubborn pride that had first caught his attention. "You were meant to rule, Eric. The crown they stole from the human prince belongs to the vampire king."

"If it means watching you become a target—"

"I won't be." Her voice steadied as something ancient stirred beneath her skin. "If I embrace my fairy nature, I'll have power of my own. Enough to stand beside a king, not behind him."

Eric's expression shifted, the weight of centuries briefly visible in his eyes. They both knew the truth—his "consideration" was merely ceremony. The vampire world rarely offered choices, only consequences.

"There's something else," Eric said, his ancient eyes darkening.

"What now?" Sookie's voice tightened.

"You recall our discussion about vampire marriages?" When she nodded, Eric's fingers tightened around hers. "Royal vampires rarely pledge to a single mate. Immortality makes exclusivity... complicated." Through their bond, he felt her pulse quicken. "Political marriages are expected of monarchs."

Sookie yanked her hand away and snatched her robe from the floor. "Absolutely not." She cinched the belt with trembling fingers. "I've bent on a lot of things, Eric, but this isn't negotiable."

A smile ghosted across Eric's lips.

"This isn't funny," she snapped, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she paced.

"Eric, I swear to God—" Her voice cracked.

He was beside her in an instant, his cool hands steadying her shoulders. "I requested time because I needed alternatives, not because I wanted this arrangement."

"So what, you're stalling them?"

"No, lover. I'm choosing you—only you—regardless of tradition." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If I wear the crown, I want my fairy princess at my side, not some political convenience."

The bond between them hummed with truth, and Sookie's shoulders relaxed beneath his touch.

"I asked for time to negotiate around that requirement, and to give you space as well..." Eric's thumb traced circles on her palm as he leaned down, his cool lips brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. Sookie trembled at the contact. "You deserve the chance to consider your own path carefully, rather than being swept into my political obligations without warning."

"And if they refuse to budge on that requirement?" Sookie's fingers twisted in the silk of her robe.

Eric's jaw tightened. "Then Louisiana and Arkansas finds another king, or queen."

"They don't exactly take rejection well." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Vampires older than you have lost their lives for less."

His cool palm cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her warm skin. "A millennium of existence means nothing if I can't choose who shares my bed and my blood. Some lines cannot be crossed, even for a crown."

Sookie sank onto the edge of the bed, smoothing her robe over her knees.

"Funny thing about fairy royalty," she said, her Southern drawl more pronounced with fatigue. "They've got their own version of political marriages."

Eric settled beside her, the mattress barely dipping under his weight, his eyes attentive.

"With our numbers dwindling—thanks to your kind—" she shot him a pointed look that held no real anger, "reproduction's become practically a royal duty. Being a Brigant with the Essential Spark..." Her voice trailed off as she watched his expression darken. "Don't worry. Claudine's already run interference. And that—" she nodded toward the parchment on her dresser, its edges faintly glowing in the dim light, "—makes it official. No fairy breeding program for me."

Eric's jaw clenched, the muscle twitching beneath his pale skin. "The thought of another touching you..." His voice trailed into a growl that seemed to come from somewhere ancient and primal.

Sookie's fingers traced the sharp line of his cheekbone. "Goes both ways, Viking. No fairy breeding program for me, no vampire queen for you."
"Then be mine," Eric said, capturing her hand against his face. "Officially, I mean."

A smile tugged at Sookie's lips. "A thousand years old and still can't get down on one knee properly, can you?"

"The ring is elsewhere," Eric said, his voice low and certain. "But my intention is real. Even the oldest vampires might accept my terms if I present the royal Brigant princess as my pledged one."

The word 'ring' echoed in Sookie's mind, setting off a flutter beneath her ribs. Had he already acquired one?

"I thought vampires considered fairies their enemies," she said, searching his face.

"Enemies, yes. But only because you can drive us mad." His fingers traced her collarbone. "The Brigant name carries weight across all supernatural realms. Even kings think twice before challenging that bloodline."

Sookie's fingers twisted in her robe. "Eric, this is crazy fast. We've barely figured out what we are to each other." She exhaled slowly, her heartbeat steadying as she met his ancient eyes. "How long before they expect your answer?"

"Twenty-nine nights," he replied, the weight of centuries in his voice. "As of tonight."

Sookie traced a pattern on the bedsheet between them. "So our choices are tangled up together, aren't they? Me becoming fully fae would give me the power to stand beside a king without being a liability. And a formal vampire marriage with a Brigant princess would keep other... arrangements... off the table."

Eric caught her hand, stilling its nervous movement. "I won't have you transforming your entire existence for political convenience, lover. You have to trust the vampire hierarchy values me too highly to execute me for declining their crown—even ancient beings need someone who can generate income in this modern world."

Sookie nodded, her eyes sliding away from his. "Yes, of course."

"What aren't you telling me?" Eric's cool fingers caught her chin.

"Becoming a full fairy isn't like flipping a switch," she sighed, twisting a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Claudine was here today and we talked about going back to Fairy from time to time and..."

Eric vanished from the bed and reappeared looming over her, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. "Tell me you're joking." The ancient timbre of his voice made the windows vibrate. "YOU WERE GONE FOR AN HOUR AND IT WAS FIVE YEARS FOR ME, SOOKIE."

Sookie raised both palms. "Eric, breathe. I'm not vanishing again. And I'm not visiting Fairy right now." Her voice softened as she reached for his hand. "Yesterday proved I can't bear even two states between us. The physical pain alone..." She shuddered at the memory. "Our bond need to settle down a bit first".

"The full fairy transformation would create this... sort of attraction to visit Fairy more frequently," Sookie explained, her fingers twisting in the bedsheet. "Claudine says time flows differently for each fairy. For her, spending four hours there only costs two days here." She noticed Eric's jaw tightening, his body going unnaturally still. "Wait—" She held up her palm. "There's a way to fix it. A synchronization ritual." She leaned forward, her eyes brightening. "After Claudine left, Amelia and I found it in that old grimoire from the Shreveport bookstore—"

Eric's jaw clenched again at the mention of the Shreveport bookstore, as he remembered that was the place where Sookie had seen Quinn again.

"The grimoire contains a synchronization ritual," Sookie continued, oblivious to his flash of jealousy. "It would align the time flow between realms, but only works during solar eclipses. Even with that limitation, I could still visit Fairy twice a year without any time alteration here."

"So when we argue, you'll just disappear into Fairy for a fortnight?" Eric's voice held an edge that made the air between them crackle.
Sookie's fingers stilled on the bedsheet. "Only if you're impossible," she said, her lips quirking up before settling back into seriousness. "Look, I can stand beside you through whatever comes, but I can't pretend half my blood doesn't exist. I need to visit my fairy kin sometimes—with the eclipse ritual so our clocks stay matched. That part isn't up for debate."

Eric's ancient eyes studied her face. A millennium of existence had taught him many things, but sharing had never been among them. Yet here was Sookie, offering to walk into vampire politics at his side, asking only to keep one foot in her own world.

"Fine. We'll face that challenge when it arrives," Eric said, his voice softening despite the tension in his shoulders. "But for now..."

"For now, we're here," Sookie finished, reaching for his hand. The slight tremor in his fingers betrayed what his face wouldn't—how deeply the wound of their separation still ached beneath his immortal skin.

"Twenty-nine nights to persuade you to be my bride." Eric's hands encircled her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap, his cool fingers settling against the warmth of her thighs.

Sookie's lips curved into a challenge. "I've resisted your charms for years, Northman. What makes you think a month will be enough?"

Eric's eyes blackened to obsidian, his pupils swallowing all light. "Enough talk," he snarled, ripping the silk robe open with one violent motion. He slammed her back onto the mattress, his massive body caging her beneath him, the arctic chill of his immortal flesh stealing her breath. "Our bond demands blood," he commanded, his voice a primal growl that vibrated through her bones.

His fangs scraped her throat, drawing pinpricks of blood that he lapped hungrily before savaging a path to her collarbone. His marble hands seized her breasts, thumbs brutally circling her nipples until they ached for him. She convulsed beneath his touch, a desperate cry tearing from her lungs. His mouth claimed one nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until she writhed in exquisite agony.

The scent of her arousal hit him like a physical blow. Eric's fingers plunged between her thighs, finding her slick and burning. She bucked violently against his hand, her body betraying her desperate need. Their eyes locked in recognition—predator and prey, once again.
With merciless precision, he drove into her, the invasion so complete she couldn't tell where her body ended and his began. Their movements became a battle for dominance as much as pleasure. Her nails carved bloody furrows down his back that healed instantly, while his hips pistoned with inhuman force. The headboard splintered against the wall, plaster dust raining down as they consumed each other.

"ERIC!" Sookie screamed his name as her orgasm detonated through her body, her fairy light erupting involuntarily, illuminating the room in blinding white. His fangs plunged deep into her throat as he roared his release, the twin sensations of being filled and drained simultaneously hurling her into a second, more violent climax.

Eric tore open his wrist with a fast movement and savage fangs, pressing the wound to Sookie's mouth as he continued to drink deeper from her throat. Her fairy blood scorched through him like liquid starlight, every cell in his ancient body screaming with pleasure as her essence filled him. She latched onto his wrist with desperate hunger, her tongue working against his cold flesh, drawing his immortal blood into her mortal body. They locked together, feeding from each other, consuming each other, lost in a blood-haze where time ceased to exist. For fifteen endless minutes they remained fused, their bond now regaining the life that distance had taken away from it, rising with each swallow. It had taken them two rounds of this ritual of flesh and blood, immense mutual pleasure, for their bond to now feel completely healed.

"Almost makes the pain of separation worth it," Sookie murmured, her voice honey-thick with contentment as she traced lazy patterns across Eric's chest.
Eric's low chuckle vibrated against her fingertips.

In his entire existence, nothing had ever consumed him like these moments with Sookie: her essence still coating him, her fairy blood scorching through his veins like liquid fire, igniting every dead cell until his entire being throbbed with a ferocious life he'd thought forever lost to darkness.

Sookie's breath deepened into the rhythm of approaching sleep. Eric slipped from the bed, his movements silent as only a thousand-year-old predator's could be, and fed another log to the hungry flames.

December pressed its frigid fingers against the windowpanes, but couldn't reach her beneath the cocoon of blankets he'd arranged. When he returned to her side, a faint luminescence still pulsed beneath her skin—an afterglow of her fairy nature that only vampire eyes could detect. He brushed golden strands from her temple, his touch reverent.
"I love you, lover," he murmured, ancient Swedish flowing like dark honey from his lips.

The phone's vibration barely registered before Eric's hand closed around it.

"Pam."

"Sorry to interrupt your little reunion," Pam drawled, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "But Fangtasia's suffering from your... extended absence. The vermin are getting restless."

"Your point?" His voice was glacier-cold.

"Two hours. That's all I'm asking."

Eric's gaze fell on Sookie's sleeping form, her chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of deep slumber. Golden hair spilled across his pillow like honey. Five years he'd waited; now every minute away felt like theft.

"I can't leave her unguarded," he said, voice low enough not to disturb her.

"Already handled. Your relief arrives in ten. I think you will approve."

Decision made, Eric moved through the house with preternatural efficiency, checking locks and wards. Dawn would trap him before he could return to his sanctuary beneath her floorboards. He slipped a brass key from his pocket, penning the note she'd come to expect whenever duty pulled him away.

Eric's lips curved into a rare smile when he saw who awaited him at the perimeter. "Bubba." The vampire guard couldn't cross the threshold—a limitation Eric secretly appreciated. Amelia's cat would remain safe from the former rock star's infamous feline cravings.

"Evening, Master Eric," Bubba drawled with an awkward half-bow, his famous features catching the moonlight.

"One moment." Eric slipped back inside, adding a hasty postscript to his note. If Sookie woke up in the middle of the night and wandered out to the garden as she often did, finding herself face-to-face with America's most recognizable undead celebrity might prove too much of a shock.

"Thank you, Bubba," Eric said, his voice unusually gentle.

"Anything happens, you call me. I'll be watching my phone. Miss Stackhouse, she's—"

"Miss Pam filled me in on everything, Master Eric." Bubba's face lit up with a shadow of his mortal charisma. "Congratulations on your bonded. I'd stake myself before letting harm come to her."

Eric nodded, studying the vampire before him. The irony wasn't lost on him—this creature who could have commanded armies of the undead with his fame now lurked in shadows, content with simple duties and blood from stray cats. Perhaps there was wisdom in Bubba's quiet existence that even a thousand-year-old Viking, probably soon-to-be King of two States, could learn from.

The Corvette's engine growled beneath him as Eric sped through the Louisiana night, his thoughts still lingering on Sookie's warm bed even as Fangtasia's neon sign came into view.

Even with miles stretching between Shreveport and Bon Temps, their bond remained intact—a dull ache beneath his ribs rather than the searing pain of true separation.

Pam's eyes narrowed the moment Eric crossed her office threshold. "Disheveled is putting it mildly," she drawled, tossing him a fresh black shirt.

Eric caught it one-handed. "Your concern is touching as always."

"The fairy reek coming off you could start a feeding frenzy." She wrinkled her nose. "There's a reason we installed those private showers downstairs."

Eric settled onto his throne at Fangtasia, freshly showered and changed. His expression remained carved from marble as he surveyed the writhing mass of humanity below. They pressed closer, eyes hungry, phones raised hopefully despite his well-known prohibition against photographs. A brunette in vinyl leaned forward, tilting her neck in offering, lipstick smeared across teeth that had been filed to points. He dismissed her with the barest flick of his gaze. Nothing these mortals offered could tempt him now. Still they pressed against the velvet barrier, desperate insects circling a predator they mistook for light.

"Hello, Northman." One whispered greeting–cold, familiar, and venomous—and Eric's entire body tensed. The voice belonged to someone he'd hoped never to encounter again. As the ice of recognition slid down his spine, his fangs descended involuntarily, but he masked his reaction with a practiced smile that never reached his eyes.

So much for his plans of a peaceful evening.

Chapter Text

A/N: 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.

Recap Chapter 33:

Eric settled onto his throne at Fangtasia, freshly showered and changed. His expression remained carved from marble as he surveyed the writhing mass of humanity below. They pressed closer, eyes hungry, phones raised hopefully despite his well-known prohibition against photographs. A brunette in vinyl leaned forward, tilting her neck in offering, lipstick smeared across teeth that had been filed to points. He dismissed her with the barest flick of his gaze. Nothing these mortals offered could tempt him now. Still they pressed against the velvet barrier, desperate insects circling a predator they mistook for light.

"Hello, Northman." One whispered greeting–cold, familiar, and venomous—and Eric's entire body tensed. The voice belonged to someone he'd hoped never to encounter again. As the ice of recognition slid down his spine, his fangs descended involuntarily, but he masked his reaction with a practiced smile that never reached his eyes.

So much for his plans of a peaceful evening.

Chapter 34: Marion

"Marion," Eric acknowledged without turning his gaze from the writhing crowd below. "To what do I owe this unwelcome surprise?"

She stood beside his throne, every inch the aristocrat who had escaped the guillotine only to fall to fangs. The dim lights of Fangtasia caught in her deep brown hair, styled in waves that belonged in a different century. When she smiled—that same smile that had once captivated him in interwar Paris—her crimson lips promised pleasures he no longer desired. Her pale gray eyes swept over the club with the same dismissive glance she had once used on Versailles courtiers. The liquid silk of her blouse and the pearls at her throat completed the picture of old-world elegance that had survived centuries of blood and revolution. Eric knew better than most how their passionate relationship had ended, and he had no interest in reminiscing.

She drifted closer, her movements as seamless and deliberate as smoke spiraling from a dying ember. The air around her thickened with a heady blend of amber and tobacco, clinging to her like a second skin. That scent dug into Eric's mind, unearthing memories of Paris: rain-slick cobblestones gleaming beneath moonlight, laughter echoing through narrow alleys, and Marion's whisper-soft promises, sweeter than blood.

"Paris feels like yesterday, doesn't it?" Her voice was barely more than an echo, yet it bore the weight of centuries. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear with the intimacy of a dagger's edge. A final wisp of her perfume—expensive, unmistakably French—hovered between them, engineered to haunt any man bold enough to forget her.

Eric's jaw clenched. A low growl rumbled through him and into his obsidian throne, sending crystal glasses trembling on nearby tables.

"Still fond of theatrics," he said, venom and history lacing his words. His eyes followed her every step, noting how her ivory fingertips ghosted along the blood-red velvet rope that marked his domain. Under the dim lights, her nails glinted like polished blades—a subtle warning draped in elegance.

Marion's lips curved into a slow, serpentine smile. "The throne," she murmured with feigned reverence, letting her fingers brush the rope. "The barriers…" She flicked her gaze to the dancers below, their hearts thudding in mortal worship. "And them," she added, disdain curling her silver eyes. "Pathetic, beating hearts."

Eric's grip on the armrest tightened ever so slightly. His voice cut the tension like frost. "State your business."

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Ice crystallized in his tone—no room for nostalgia tonight.

Marion inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring with predatory grace. She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Pity," she said, silk-smooth yet laced with something poisonous. "But I see that I've been replaced and surpassed... the Viking has blood-bonded, again". Her silver eyes narrowed into slits of molten metal. Marion was always more blade than bloom. "She smells… extraordinary on you, my love." The nickname slipped from her lips like honey laced with venom.

At that, Eric's fangs snapped into place with a soft click—a silent warning louder than any shout.
Marion's smile deepened, more sinister than before. She stepped close enough that their breaths mingled. "Very well. I serve Felipe de Castro now," she whispered, each word deliberate. "As his Strategist."

Eric's gaze drifted to the writhing crowd below, then back to her without a word. Finally he said, "So I've heard."

"My master intends to expand his reach into these… quaint establishments," she continued, gesturing at the club.

"Ambitious," Eric replied, tone heavy with centuries of boredom.

A flicker of irritation crossed Marion's features, quickly masked by another flawless smile. "I told him you're the only sheriff in Louisiana and Arkansas worth considering."

Eric at last fixed her with a full, icy stare. "Louisiana and Arkansas already have their queen."

Marion's lips curved into a provocative smile. "They could have a king." The words hovered between them like a guillotine blade.

He didn't blink. In the charged silence, she saw recognition spark in his eyes. "And what does Felipe prefer—the queen's death or her hand?"

Marion's smile thinned until it was a scarlet slash. She leaned in, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "That," she said, "depends entirely on your next words."

Eric's reply was calm, unflinching: "Neither option interests her."

From her station at the bar, Pam tracked the exchange with predatory focus, her fingers paused mid-polish on a blood-red glass. Her eyes never left Eric's face, reading decades of shared signals in the minute adjustments of his posture.

Marion's laugh was a blade wrapped in silk. "Oh, Eric. Playing the devoted lapdog? It doesn't suit you."

Every muscle in Eric's body froze, his posture shifting from boredom to predation. The temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees as his eyes fixed on Marion with the unblinking focus of a cobra about to strike.

"Careful, Marion." The words fell like ice from his lips, each syllable brittle with warning. "Felipe's protection may have sharpened your tongue, but I see he couldn't do the same for that dull wit of yours."

She prowled around his throne like a panther testing its prey, each step a deliberate performance. When the club lights flashed across her face, they illuminated eyes cold as cemetery marble. Across the room, Pam froze mid-motion, her body coiling with readiness. "Wit?" Marion's voice dripped with contempt. "This isn't about clever words, Eric. It's about who survives when Sophie-Anne falls. And fall she will—her power bleeds away with each passing night."

"Is that so?" Eric's head tilted fractionally, the gesture deceptively casual. His eyes remained glacial, betraying nothing of his knowledge that Sophie-Anne's power was indeed waning. "Or perhaps that's Felipe's pillow talk. His promises sound better when you're on his bed, I imagine."

For just a second, Marion's porcelain mask slipped. A muscle twitched beneath her eye, and her fingers curled into half-fists before relaxing again. "Are you jealous, darling?" Her voice dripped honey over steel. Eric's face remained impassive as stone. "I've secured my position with the rising power. Have you considered your future beyond a failing queen?"

"I've survived a millennium of politics far deadlier than this." Eric's lips barely moved, yet frost seemed to form on each syllable. "While you—what? Two decades with fangs? Three? You're a newborn still wobbling on uncertain legs."

Marion's fangs flashed, gleaming like pearls under the club's chaotic lighting. "I miss us, Eric," she purred, her accent growing thicker with every syllable. "How we resolved our... differences. The sun would rise before we were exhausted. We could easily come to an agreement here, right now."

Every night with Marion remained etched in his mind with vampire clarity—a blessing and a curse of immortality. Their affair had lasted exactly seven years, two months, and fourteen days. She had been his rare vulnerability, the one who had slipped past his defenses when he'd believed himself incapable of such attachment. For a brief moment in his endless existence, he'd imagined they'd broken the vampire curse of solitude. But while he offered love, Marion hungered for power and wealth above all else. Blood-bonds worked different when both persons were vampires. Although the bond could only be created through love, in vampires' complexity it did not guarantee that love would always prevail. For Marion, there were things that suddenly began to be more attractive than love to her: power. Fidelity didn't really matter for them, but Eric wouldn't bow down to a woman who would discard him as soon as she found someone she considered better for her. He still had his ego and pride. That led him to severe the bond when the opportunity arose.

Eric's gaze moved over her face with glacial precision, his long existence had taught him to read the smallest flicker of eyelash, the faintest tightening at the corner of a mouth.

"Felipe didn't send you here to negotiate," he said finally, his voice like ice sliding over steel. "He sent you to determine my price. Loyalty, wealth, or fear—which lever did he suggest you pull first?"

Marion's laugh fluttered between them like a wounded bird. "Felipe believes in covering all bases," she said, her accent thickening. "He's nothing if not... methodical."

Eric's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "So where does this little performance fall in his grand strategy?"

"Oh, we've moved past the buying stage." She stepped closer, close enough that her perfume mingled with the metallic scent of old blood that clung to them both. "This is where I determine if you're worth keeping alive."

Eric's amusement was arctic. "Then you really are more naive than him. I was already considered an old vampire when Felipe was a mere mortal."

Marion leaned in, her whisper slicing through the bass-heavy music like a silver blade. "Felipe values what you are, Eric. What he cannot abide is seeing it wasted on Sophie-Anne's sinking ship."

"Sophie-Anne still stands while queens twice her age have crumbled to dust."

"Or perhaps the queen merely benefits from loyal servants who excel at damage control." Marion's smile turned predatory as she leaned closer. "Count them, Eric. The nights you've defended her rule. The rivals you've dispatched without question. The wounds you've suffered preserving a throne that isn't yours."

Her barbs found their target with more precision than she knew. The muscle along Eric's jawline tensed for a fraction of a second—a microexpression that would have been invisible to any vampire whose eyes had seen fewer than a hundred winters.

"I had forgotten that you have your own definition of loyalty," Eric said, his voice like a blade wrapped in velvet.

Marion's crimson lips curved upward. "Loyalty is merely a currency that buys protection," she said, her gaze drifting over the undulating crowd below before locking with his again. "And when Sophie-Anne's protection crumbles—which it will—what becomes of her faithful sheriff? Felipe remembers who stood against him. What will be your salvation then, Eric? Those famous... creative tactics of yours?"

The music below faded, then surged again with a deeper, more visceral rhythm that seemed to pulse through the floorboards. Eric let the beats pass—one, two, ten—before his voice emerged, cold as permafrost.

"You've just confirmed I'll outlast her reign. How generous of you." Eric's voice was winter itself. Marion leaned against the railing, one crimson nail tracing invisible patterns on the polished surface.

"Survival and prosperity aren't synonymous, darling. Felipe appreciates your talents—your intimate knowledge of Louisiana's supernatural underbelly. Your... entanglements."

"And if I refuse?"

"Felipe has ways of being persuasive." Her shrug was elegant, casual, as if discussing the weather. "That fairy scent clings to you like perfume. It would be a shame if something were to happen to such a rare creature."

Eric unfolded from his throne like a blade being drawn, suddenly looming over Marion with glacial fury. The air between them crackled with ancient power. Pam materialized at his flank, her presence a silent warning.

"Pam, darling," Marion purred, her smile never reaching her eyes. "Still playing the second, I see." Pam's lips peeled back just enough to reveal the edge of her fangs, her silence more threatening than any words.

Eric's voice dropped to a register that hadn't crossed his lips since the Dark Ages. "Touch what is mine, Marion, and I will ensure your final death makes the guillotine that claimed your family seem merciful by comparison."

Lesser vampires would have withered under the arctic fury in his voice, but Marion merely tilted her chin upward. She'd shared his bed many years—thought she knew every facet of him—yet Eric noticed how her crimson lips pressed together briefly, how her weight shifted backward by a fraction of an inch.

"I trust our exchange has clarified matters," Eric said, his tall frame straightening as he stepped back. "Unfortunately, my schedule requires my attention elsewhere tonight."

"Of course." Marion's lips curved upward, though her eyes remained glacial. "Do send my warmest wishes to your fairy pet. I've heard their blood tastes like sunlight—something any vampire would kill to have again."

Marion disappeared as quickly and quietly as she had arrived.

"I can't believe it," Pam broke the silence. "The nerve of that bitch to show up again."

"I assume you caught all that," Eric said, and Pam nodded. "Come with me."

The leather sofa in Eric's office creaked as he sank into it. After detailing his Amun Clan meeting, he fell silent, staring at the ancient battle axe mounted on the wall.

"Take the crown, Eric," Pam finally said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "It's the only real protection Sookie has."

Eric's shoulders tensed. "And when Felipe maneuvers behind my throne?" He leaned forward, elbows on knees, face disappearing into his palms.

"I warned you she would become—"

"ENOUGH." The word exploded from him as he raised his head, blue eyes blazing like arctic fire. "I chose her. I would choose her again. But keeping her safe... is so fucking hard." He collapsed back against the cushions. "The crown comes with expectations. Political marriage."

"Standard vampire protocol," Pam shrugged.

"Not for Sookie." His voice was iron. "She would never share me."

"And the alternative?"

"If they recognize her fairy royalty, perhaps she becomes my sole consort."

Pam's eyebrow arched skeptically. "I've never seen Vampires prioritize bloodlines over political advantage." She tapped one pink nail against her fang. "What possible benefit would a fairy alliance bring the Amun Clan?"

Eric's gaze returned to the battle axe. "That's the question I can't answer."

Eric ran a hand through his long blond hair, his thousand-year-old eyes distant. "Her farmhouse might as well have a target painted on it. She needs the protection of my residence."

Pam's pale fingers drummed against her thigh. "A vampire's home is hardly a sanctuary, Eric. Any vampire of sufficient age can entry without invitation. At least her property has that ridiculous mortal shield. This isn't about her safety—it's about keeping her under your thumb."

"Every moment apart from her is like silver against my skin."

Pam rolled her eyes, but her voice softened. "Then stay with her in the farmhouse until we figure this out. Make appearances here when the crowds peak—Thursdays through Saturdays—or convince Her Royal Fairyness to grace us with her presence."

Eric pictured Sookie perched on the edge of his throne at Fangtasia, blonde hair catching the club lights, smiling that smile that made his dead heart remember beating. But dawn would always come, dragging him below while she lay awake.

"If there's nothing else..." He rose, already halfway to the door in his mind.

Pam slid a manila folder across the desk. "Area matters requiring your attention."

"I'll review them at Sookie's," he said, tucking the folder under his arm.

Pam's lips twitched. "Of course you will," she drawled.

Eric's Corvette tore through the night as he raced from Fangtasia toward his secluded residence. Inside, he moved with preternatural speed, gathering essentials for his extended stay at Sookie's farmhouse—changes of clothing, his ancient ceremonial dagger with the Nordic engravings, the leather-bound tome of vampire legal precedents he'd annotated since the 1200s, and the small velvet box he'd kept hidden for months. The temporary arrangement gnawed at him. He craved a sanctuary that belonged to both of them, yet property in his name offered none of the protections Sookie needed. He would send a message to his lawyer to see how this matter could be resolved as soon as possible.

His car's headlights swept across Sookie's property, catching a familiar silhouette among the trees. Bubba emerged from the shadows, his unmistakable features half-illuminated in the moonlight.

"All quiet here, Master Eric. Miss Sookie's lights went dark 'bout two hours back," he reported, rocking slightly on his heels.

Eric nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "Your service is appreciated. You're relieved for the night." He reached into his pocket and extracted a single brass key. "Compton's place is vacant. Back entrance unlocks with this. There's a secure space beneath the stairwell for dayrest."

Bubba's face brightened with childlike gratitude. He accepted the key with a deep, exaggerated bow—a flash of the showmanship that had once defined him—before vanishing into the Louisiana night.

He crept into Sookie's room and stood watching her for a moment, thinking about all the dangers that would stalk her from now on, simply because he was completely in love with her, because of the bad luck that she had been chosen as the bonded of a vampire like him. Marion's threats echoed in his mind. The crown. Felipe. Politics that had seemed so important for centuries now felt hollow when measured against the woman before him.

If he was to accept the crown, three paths stretched before him, each thornier than the last: claim her as his sole consort and battle vampire tradition, hoping Amun Clan would accept her; keep her hidden while fulfilling his political obligations through an arranged marriage, in the unlikely scenario that Sookie would allow it; or let her go… Maybe Europe, or even a season in Fairy, while everything calmed down.

But could he let her go? Again? His fingers hovered inches from her cheek. Their bond, newly healed and humming with life, pulled at him like a physical force.

A thousand years of selfishness warred with this new, fragile thing growing within him. Before Sookie, choices had been simple calculations of power and survival. Now...

Before making any decision or asking anything of her, Sookie obviously had seen the old photograph in his safe, he remembered – he would have to explain about Marion.

Seven years with Marion—a mere heartbeat in his millennium of existence. Yet unbidden, his mind still conjured her bare shoulders bathed in Parisian moonlight. He had mistaken that for love once, or whatever approximation of it vampires allowed themselves. When it ended, the walls around his heart had grown higher, colder. Then Sookie Stackhouse crashed through them all. What he'd shared with Marion was a pale shadow next to the incandescent reality of Sookie. Marion had touched his vampire existence; Sookie had reached across death itself to awaken something he thought long buried—the remnants of his human heart.

Walking away from Marion had meant breaking a blood-bond—yes, there were ways, painful ones. Even so, the decision, in the end, had been easy.

With Sookie, any decision that involved the slightest pain for her could never be an easy one.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. I'm loving both of my stories, but I'm already thinking about their endings. I'd like to leave them at 50 chapters. Probably, one of them will have a sequel. I'm not ruling it out.

Chapter Text

Recap Chapter 34:

Seven years with Marion—a mere heartbeat in his millennium of existence. Yet unbidden, his mind still conjured her bare shoulders bathed in Parisian moonlight. He had mistaken that for love once, or whatever approximation of it vampires allowed themselves. When it ended, the walls around his heart had grown higher, colder. Then Sookie Stackhouse crashed through them all. What he'd shared with Marion was a pale shadow next to the incandescent reality of Sookie. Marion had touched his vampire existence; Sookie had reached across death itself to awaken something he thought long buried—the remnants of his human heart.

Walking away from Marion had meant breaking a blood-bond—yes, there were ways, painful ones. Even so, the decision, in the end, had been easy.

With Sookie, any decision that involved the slightest pain for her could never be an easy one.

Chapter 35: The confession and a decision

Sookie's eyes fluttered open with the dawn, something that hadn't happened since vampires had turned her life—and sleeping habits—upside down. The early hour felt like a gift, a small reclaiming of her pre-supernatural existence. With the sun streaming through her curtains, she thought it was the perfect day to catch up with a lot of things. But as she shifted to rise from bed, a folded piece of paper on the adjacent pillow caught her attention.

"Lover,

I've decided to stay here with you. I couldn't bear to be away from you a moment longer.

See you at first dark.

Yours, E."

Her lips curved into a smile. She'd secretly hoped Eric would choose to stay in the hidden cubby beneath her floorboards. She let the hot shower wash away the night's thoughts, then slipped into a warm sweater and jeans that hugged her curves just enough for comfort. The stairs creaked under her feet as she descended toward the kitchen, her stomach already growling. With Eric safely tucked away until sunset, maybe she could finally hear the rest of what Amelia had been trying to tell her.

Sookie inhaled deeply as she poured the steaming coffee into her favorite mug. The vampire blood coursing through her veins had transformed this simple morning ritual. Where once she'd just smelled "coffee," now she detected hints of chocolate, cherry, and something earthy beneath it all. She took her first sip and couldn't help the soft "mmm" that escaped her lips as flavors bloomed across her tongue in waves she never would have noticed in her days before the special diet she followed now.

The kitchen clock read 9 a.m. when Amelia's shuffling footsteps approached. Sookie glanced up from her second breakfast—Gran's recipe pecan pie and fresh-squeezed orange juice that had long replaced her morning coffee. The witch stood framed in the doorway, her face a roadmap of a sleepless night. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes told Sookie everything she needed to know before Amelia spoke a single word.

"What can I do?" Sookie asked, setting down her juice glass.

Amelia collapsed into a kitchen chair, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs. When she finally looked up, mascara tracks mapped her cheeks.
"Sookie..." Her voice hitched, the rest of her words dissolving into a hiccup.

Sookie reached across the table, her fingers light against Amelia's forearm. She waited, letting the witch's breathing slow to something resembling normal.

"I need another witch," Amelia finally managed, dabbing at her face with a napkin. "It's urgent."

"Well, you're the only witch in my address book," Sookie said, twisting her napkin between her fingers. "But if you tell me what's goin' on, maybe I can put my waitress problem-solving skills to use. Lord knows I've seen enough strange things by now."

"I need to confess something awful I did. It's why I fled New Orleans," Amelia whispered, fingers trembling around her mug. "Running away wasn't brave, but I was out of options."

"You're making me nervous," Sookie said. "Spit it out."

"Back home, I dated another witch named Robert. Magic brought us together—we'd practice spells every day." Amelia's voice cracked. "We got into temporary transfiguration, objects stuff at first. We mastered turning teacups into thimbles, then decided to try... each other." Amelia blinked rapidly at the ceiling, swallowing hard. "I went first—always wanted to fly, so I chose a Carolina wren. One minute I'm human, next I'm soaring around my living room. When Robert changed me back, it felt like being turned inside out, but it worked."

Sookie tapped her fingernails against the table.

"Then I cast on Robert. The transformation went perfectly, but when I tried reversing it—nothing happened. Three attempts, same result. The spell... it wouldn't break. I had cast the spell permanently by mistake."

"Sweet Jesus," Sookie breathed. "You don't mean…"

"Robert is Bob–" Amelia collapsed into sobs.

Watching her friend's shoulders shake, Sookie felt her own throat tighten. They might be different as night and day, but Amelia's pain cut through her like a knife. Sookie reached across the table with a clean napkin, waiting as Amelia's sobs gradually subsided into hiccups.

"I went to Octavia," Amelia finally whispered, her voice raw. "My mentor. She studied the spell for three days straight before she told me..." Her fingers twisted the napkin into a tight spiral. "There's no reversal. Not one that exists in any grimoire she's ever seen." Amelia's eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, met Sookie's. "I erased him, Sookie. I took his life away from him. Not some stranger or enemy—Robert. The man who brought me wildflowers every Friday. Who knew exactly how I liked my coffee." Her voice broke. "Who was teaching his own cat to high-five just to make me laugh."

The truth glimmered in Amelia's eyes, unmistakable beneath her tears. Love—not just affection for a pet, but the aching kind reserved for someone irreplaceable. Sookie's mind raced, piecing together all the strange behaviors she'd witnessed: Bob perching on windowsills when Amelia spoke with male visitors, his watchful gaze during their conversations, how he'd curl protectively against Amelia's neck at night. The cat's devotion went beyond feline instinct. Either Robert's consciousness remained intact behind those yellow eyes, his love undiminished by fur and whiskers, or he simply couldn't bear to abandon hope that Amelia might someday speak the right words to free him from his velvet prison.

A tingle ran through Sookie's fingertips—the same sensation she'd felt when Claudine had demonstrated simple fairy magic. Maybe there was something in her newfound heritage that could help untangle this mess, restore Robert and lift the shadow from Amelia's eyes.

"Have you reached out to Octavia since... everything?" Sookie asked, keeping her fairy thoughts to herself for now.

Amelia traced a coffee ring on the table. "Sent her an email last night. Can't bring myself to call—she took me under her wing and I turned her star pupil into a housecat. But I'm desperate to know if she's discovered anything new."

"And this all happened...?"

"January."

Sookie watched Bob leap onto the windowsill, his tail twitching as he stared at them. "And you've been walking around like you swallowed broken glass because of Trey, right? Oh lord—Trey!"

"Bingo."

"God, Amelia, I pushed you toward him. I never would've—"

Amelia shook her head firmly. "Don't. Trey's smile made my heart race the moment I saw him. But then I look at Bob and think—Robert should be falling in love with someone better, building a career. Instead, I'm living my life while he's... licking himself clean."

While listening to Amelia, Sookie's fingers drifted to the folded document hidden in her pocket. Last night, as Eric's car had disappeared down her driveway toward Fangtasia, she'd made her decision. The contract sat on her nightstand until 3 a.m., when she'd finally messaged Claudine: "Noon tomorrow. My place."

Now, with Amelia's confession hanging in the air between them, Sookie's fingers pressed against the contract in her pocket. Some wounds couldn't be undone. Robert might someday walk on two legs again instead of four paws, but the trust between him and Amelia had shattered like a dropped mirror—a thousand glittering pieces impossible to perfectly reassemble, no matter how much fairy blood ran through her veins.

Sookie reached across the round kitchen table and squeezed Amelia's trembling fingers between her own. "I promise you," she whispered, her gaze shifting to where Bob sat watching them, his yellow eyes unblinking. "I'll help you find a way to help both of you".

Amelia disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filtering down through the old farmhouse pipes. Sookie checked the grandfather clock—noon exactly—and felt the air in the living room shimmer and fold before Claudine stepped through, trailing the scent of honeysuckle behind her.

"At this rate, I should just claim that spare bedroom of yours," she teased, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

Sookie's lips quirked upward despite her nerves. "You'd certainly brighten up the place."

"Have you decided then?" Claudine's voice softened, all playfulness evaporating.

Sookie glanced toward the hallway, hearing the water still running. "Yes. Let's do it now, before Amelia finishes her shower."

With trembling fingers, Sookie extracted the folded document from her pocket. As she smoothed the creases, Claudine extended her hand. Between her slender fingers materialized a pen that caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, its golden surface throwing prisms across the kitchen walls.

Sookie hesitated, the golden pen hovering above the parchment. She scanned the document one final time, Eric's blood in her veins making each intricate letter crystalline in its clarity. No hidden clauses, no fairy tricks buried in the elegant script. The weight of centuries pressed against her fingertips as she exhaled slowly and wrote her new identity into existence: Sookie Stackhouse-Brigant.

The document flared gold the instant her signature completed, as though sealing her fate in eternal ink. Heat surged through Sookie's fingertips until she had to flick her hands in the air, desperate for relief. Light climbed her arms while her hair lifted around her face, each strand floating as if underwater, moving to music only her blood could hear. The warmth spread through her chest, down her legs, until her skin shimmered like sunlight on water.

"The House of Brigant welcomes its full fairy princess," Claudine whispered, her hand settling on Sookie's luminous shoulder. "I'm proud of you, goddaughter."

A wave of joy crashed through Sookie, washing away her fears and doubts like sandcastles at high tide. Her laughter bubbled up unbidden—pure and delighted as a child discovering fireflies for the first time. With each breath, her senses filled with honey-sweet nectar, wildflowers dancing in summer breezes, fresh-cut grass, and something warm and golden that could only be described as sunshine itself. The memory of Eric's words whispered through her mind: he had always claimed she smelled of sunshine, and now she finally understood what he meant.

"What happens now?" Sookie asked when the golden light finally subsided, leaving only a faint shimmer across her skin.

Claudine's eyes danced with delight. "The birthright of a Brigant princess. Glamour. Light manipulation. Teleportation." She ticked each power off on her long, elegant fingers. "Enhanced senses. Spell-casting. Accelerated healing. And of course, whatever unique gifts emerge beyond your telepathy."

Sookie flexed her fingers, watching the last traces of light play across her knuckles. "I've been throwing those light rays for a while now. And the other night, I... well, I sort of popped all my way across Eric's house. Floated a little, too."

Claudine's eyebrows shot up. "Already?" A knowing smile spread across her face. "Eric's blood and your bond must have awakened things early."

"Will I always glow like a Christmas tree?" Sookie asked, examining her hands.

"Only when your magic surfaces. With training, you'll control it."

"And who's going to teach me all this fairy business?"

Claudine gave a theatrical bow. "Your personal instructor, at your service—lessons twice weekly, whether you like it or not."

They both laughed, but Sookie felt tears welling up.

"It's strange," she whispered. "All my doubts just... vanished. Everything suddenly feels so right"

Claudine nodded. "That's how you know you've chosen your true path."

Sookie sank onto the sofa, crossing her legs beneath her. Every nerve ending hummed with awareness—her skin a constellation of tiny stars, muscles coiled with untapped strength. She tilted her head, listening beyond the living room walls to the steady rush of shower water.

"Claudine," she whispered, leaning forward. "Amelia has a situation…"

As Sookie described Bob's feline predicament, Claudine's expression shifted from curiosity to thoughtful concern. Her fairy godmother traced a pattern in the air, leaving momentary trails of light.

"Fairy magic might unravel what witch magic has tangled," Claudine said carefully. "But transformation spells are delicate. One wrong note..." She let her fingers drift apart like scattered dandelion seeds.

"Even a slim chance is better than the nothing she's clinging to now," Sookie replied.

"Consider it part of your education then," Claudine said with a conspiratorial wink. "Fairy 101: transforming witches' mistakes."

Amelia padded into the living room wearing fresh jeans and a thick sweater. Bob trotted at her heels, his tail held high. Claudine had vanished by then, but a golden shimmer still clung to Sookie's skin, casting faint golden patterns across the living room walls.

"Sweet merciful goddess!" Amelia froze in the doorway, one hand flying to her mouth.

"I signed it," Sookie said, holding up fingers that sparkled with residual light.

A shriek erupted from Amelia that could have shattered windows. Sookie winced, silently thanking whatever vampire magic kept Eric dead to the world during daylight hours. Before she could catch her breath, Amelia had launched herself across the room, wrapping Sookie in a fierce embrace that smelled of lavender shampoo.

"You're radiant," Amelia whispered, stepping back to admire her. She inhaled deeply. "The goddesses themselves couldn't have crafted anything more beautiful." Her fingers hovered just above Sookie's glowing arm. "Makes a witch downright jealous."

Sookie twisted a strand of her hair, watching the golden light trail from her fingertips. "Definitely an effect I hadn't considered. Eric's already territorial enough with my standard beauty," she murmured, half-joking but unable to hide the slight furrow in her brow.

"I'll take some satisfaction watching Mr. High-and-Mighty Vampire squirm when every supernatural creature with a pulse—and some without—starts orbiting around you, like moths to a lightbulb." Amelia said, her eyes crinkling with mischief.

By 2 p.m., Sookie's newfound fairy strength still hummed beneath her skin, but her eyelids drooped like wilted daisies. Her mind felt wrung out like one of Gran's old dishcloths after Sunday dinner—seven hours of supernatural revelations had hollowed her out more thoroughly than any physical battle ever could.

Before taking a nap, Sookie thumbed through her contacts and tapped Sam's number, eager to tell him the old Merlotte's would be ready next month. They needed to discuss the grand opening. The call connected, then clicked straight to voicemail. Her forehead creased. Sam always answered her calls—or at least let it ring through before ignoring her.

She set the phone down, refusing to let worry take root. Knowing Sam, he'd probably shifted and left his cell phone tucked inside his discarded jeans somewhere in the Louisiana woods.

She fired off a few quick texts—suggesting drinks with Tara and Lafayette at that new Cajun place in Shreveport, asking Jason when he and Anya might be free for lunch at her place. Her thumbs hovered over the screen a moment longer before she set the phone on her nightstand. The golden shimmer across her skin dimmed as her eyelids grew heavy, and she surrendered to a dreamless, fairy-deep sleep.

Sookie jolted awake to find Eric's weight crushing her into the mattress, his fangs fully extended as he dragged them—not quite breaking skin—across her collarbone. His tongue burned like ice fire against her shoulder, his massive body convulsing against hers with barely contained violence.

"This scent... this taste..." he growled, the sound tearing from somewhere primal and ancient. "Sookie, I'm losing it—"

"Eric!" She slammed her palms against his marble chest, concern flooding her veins. "What the hell are you doing?"

His head whipped up, face transformed into something feral and hungry she recognized immediately. His eyes were black holes, pupils swallowing any trace of blue. "What have you DONE?" he snarled, fingers digging into her arms hard enough to bruise, his entire frame vibrating with restraint that threatened to snap any second.

A/N: Okay, I took the liberty of changing Amelia's story with Bob, because I have my own idea of what I want to do with Amelia's character and her development. Also, the way Sookie relates to her and to this particular problem. I feel like this chapter is a bit filler, but it still contains two important things: Amelia's confession and Sookie's decision.

Chapter Text

Chapter 35 Recap

Sookie jolted awake to find Eric's weight crushing her into the mattress, his fangs fully extended as he dragged them—not quite breaking skin—across her collarbone. His tongue burned like ice fire against her shoulder, his massive body convulsing against hers with barely contained violence.

"This scent... this taste..." he growled, the sound tearing from somewhere primal and ancient. "Sookie, I'm losing it—"

"Eric!" She slammed her palms against his marble chest, concern flooding her veins. "What the hell are you doing?"

His head whipped up, face transformed into something feral and hungry she recognized immediately. His eyes were black holes, pupils swallowing any trace of blue. "What have you DONE?" he snarled, fingers digging into her arms hard enough to bruise, his entire frame vibrating with restraint that threatened to snap any second.

Chapter 36: Control

Sookie's voice trembled. "Eric, stop it. Stop." His eyes had gone midnight black, pupils dilating until no blue remained. The scent of her blood called to him like a siren, drowning out all reason.

Something stirred beneath Sookie's skin—that new power she'd been warned about. Without thinking, she pressed her palms against his chest harder. Twin beams of light erupted from her hands, hurling Eric across the room. His back slammed against the wall with a sickening crack, pinning him there like a butterfly to cork. His face contorted with shock as he struggled against the invisible force, utterly immobilized.

Eric strained against the invisible force pinning him to the wall. "What the—" His eyes widened. "Sookie, release me."

"Not until you get yourself under control," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. For once, she held the power.

"I would never harm you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You know this."

"Your fangs suggested otherwise."

Eric's head fell back against the wall, his gaze fixed on some distant point above. The muscles in his jaw worked silently.

"It's the fairy in me, isn't it?" she asked. "That's what's driving you crazy."

He winced as though her words physically pained him.

"I made my choice today," she continued. "While you were dead to the world."

"You did?" His voice was tight, controlled.

"Yes. Full fairy. Like I was born to it."

Something flickered across Eric's face—worry, perhaps fear—before he masked it.

"Can you resist it?" she asked. "This... hunger for what I am now?"

"The bond should prevent me from draining you," he said, not quite answering her question.

Sookie studied him for a moment before letting her magic dissolve.

Sookie stepped forward, her magic still binding him to the wall. "Look at me, Eric." Her voice was soft but unyielding. "I need to know if you can control yourself."

She moved closer until only inches separated them, her scent surely enveloping him. "Can you?"

Eric's throat worked visibly. His eyes clenched shut, fangs still extended. "Sookie..." Her name emerged as a plea.

"Breathe me in," she whispered, closing the final distance between them. "We have to know."

His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. The thousand-year-old vampire trembled like a newborn. His nostrils flared, drinking in her transformed essence—familiar yet impossibly potent. Had his heart still beaten, it would have seized in his chest.

Her palm came to rest against his sternum, warm against cold.

A violent shudder ran through him. His eyes flew open, black receding to reveal rings of blue. The hunger remained, but something else emerged—recognition. With each breath, her scent became less foreign, less maddening. It called to him not as prey calls to predator, but as one half calls to its missing whole.

The tension in Eric's body melted away beneath her touch. His eyes, now clear azure pools again, told her what words couldn't—he had mastered the frenzy. She would sustain him, yes, but as his equal, his partner in this dance between fairy and vampire that no one had ever choreographed before.

"Okay," said Sookie, her magic dissolving like mist, taking three measured steps backward.
Eric took two steps toward her, his movements deliberately slow. His eyes never left hers.

Eric's gaze traveled over her with reverence, his voice dropping to a rasp. "A thousand years on this earth, and I've never beheld anything like you." His fingers twitched at his sides, restraining themselves. "What you are now—it's like offering whiskey to an alcoholic. There's a reason vampires avoid entanglements with the Fae."

Sookie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes downcast. "I guess my makeover didn't exactly go unnoticed."

A sound escaped Eric's throat—something between a laugh and a groan. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he gripped his knees. "So where do we go from here, Sookie?"

Sookie hugged herself, maintaining the careful space between them. "Claudine explained that only fairies who spend significant time in the Fae realm develop the scent that drives vampires wild." Her fingers absently traced the spot on her collarbone where his fangs had been. "What happened between us is... I guess is different, because it's you and me. Other Supes shouldn't react the same way."

Eric's eyes darkened. "I won't gamble with your safety. If even one vampire catches a whiff of what I just experienced, they'll hunt you to the ends of the earth."

Sookie twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "So what do we do about this... situation?"

"We need to test your effect on other vampires," Eric said, his voice low and measured. "Someone I can control if things go wrong."

"Pam," Sookie said before he could finish.

Eric nodded once, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. "She's the logical choice."

"What, tonight? You want to do this now?"

His fingers paused over the screen. "If Pam can't resist you, no vampire can. And if that's the case..." His eyes met hers, centuries of witnessed horrors reflected in them. "We'll need to find a way to mask what you are now, or they'll track you like bloodhounds. All of them."

The floorboards creaked as Eric and Sookie emerged into the living room. Amelia lounged across the sofa, one hand holding open a leather-bound grimoire while the other stroked Bob's fur.

"Well, well," Amelia drawled without lifting her eyes from the page, "survived the fairy transformation intact, did we, Viking?"

Eric's fangs clicked audibly as Sookie pressed a warm bottle of TruBlood into his hand with a warning squeeze.

"For God's sake, Amelia," Sookie muttered.

The witch straightened, gently depositing Bob onto a cushion. Her expression sobered as she studied them both. "That bad?"

"If someone decides to make her dessert..." Eric left the threat hanging.

"It's not a death sentence," Sookie insisted, though her voice lacked conviction.

Eric's eyes narrowed. "Amelia. What do you detect when Sookie is near you?"

The witch tilted her head, inhaling deliberately. "Nothing supernatural, if that's what you're asking. Just something... floral? Like expensive perfume, but more natural." She shrugged. "Nothing that would make me look twice."

Eric's shoulders remained tense. A witch with human senses couldn't detect what vampires would. Still, humans wouldn't notice anything unusual about Sookie—one small mercy in this dangerous new reality.

"Pam should be here any minute now. She's not far away, and I'll need help in case..."

"Eric, I think I can defend myself pretty well," Sookie said. "I did it before, and now I have even more reason to face a vampire."

Eric glanced at his watch. "Pam's on her way. She should arrive any minute now."

"I can handle myself," Sookie said, chin lifting. "I managed before I had fairy powers, and now..." She trailed off, a hint of mischief crossing her face. "Well, you've experienced my new abilities firsthand."

Eric's eyes flashed as he turned from the window, where he'd been scanning the darkness beyond the porch light's reach. A low warning rumble escaped his throat.

"Bubba's patrolling the perimeter," he said, changing the subject. "We could test your effect on him as well."

Sookie shook her head. "Let's not overwhelm ourselves. One vampire at a time."

Eric crossed to her in two swift strides, his cool hands framing her face. "Listen to me. If this goes badly, it won't be a single vampire you'll need to worry about. They'll come in waves—pairs, groups, entire nests—all hunting what they can smell in your blood."

The color drained from Sookie's cheeks as reality settled over her like a shroud.

Eric's fingertips brushed her cheek. "Exactly," he whispered, his cool breath fanning across her skin.

Amelia rose from the couch, the grimoire falling shut with a soft thud. "I can help," she offered, while Bob wound figure-eights between her ankles.

Eric shook his head. "If I can't control Pam..." His voice hardened. "Your magic won't be enough."

"Fair point." Amelia settled back onto the armrest. "But we're staying put anyway."

Eric's voice cut through the tension. "Rescind Pam's invitation. Now."

Sookie swallowed hard. "Pamela Ravenscroft, I rescind your invitation to my home."

The words hung in the air like a spell. Eric planted himself in the center of the hallway, shoulders squared, a thousand-year-old wall between Sookie and whatever might come through that door. Behind him, Sookie's fingers twisted nervously in the hem of her shirt. Amelia hovered near the entrance to the first-floor bedrooms, ready to retreat if necessary.

A muffled thud followed by colorful cursing came from the other side of the door.
"Pamela." Eric's voice carried the weight of centuries.

"Eric, there's an invisible wall here." Pam's normally bored drawl held a note of confusion. "Did someone cast a spell?"

"Sookie rescinded your invitation as a precaution."

"Should I be concerned?" The question hung in the air, deceptively casual.

Eric approached the threshold, lowering his voice. "Our telepathic friend has... evolved today. We need to test your reaction before risking exposure to other vampires."

He glanced back at Sookie, a silent command in his eyes.
"I'm reinstating your invitation," he explained through the door, "but you will maintain absolute control."

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Pam's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Sookie stepped forward, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Pamela Ravenscroft, please come in."

Pam's stiletto heels clicked across the threshold. She paused, nostrils flaring, her perfectly lined eyes widening before darkening to obsidian pools.

"Pamela." Eric's voice cracked like a whip. "Maintain control."

Pam's fingers curled into claws at her sides. "What the hell have you done, Sookie?"

"She's transitioned," Eric said, his body angled between them. "Her fae nature has... fully awakened."

"Well, isn't that just delightful," Pam drawled, her fangs partially descended despite her rigid posture.

"Report your reaction," Eric commanded.

Pam's crimson lips thinned. "Like walking into Bergdorf's perfume department—overwhelming but not unbearable."

"Can you resist it?"

She inhaled deliberately, taking one measured step forward. Eric's muscles coiled, ready to intervene. Pam's eyes cleared slightly as she exhaled.

"I'm not about to drain our dear telepathic fairy," she said with forced nonchalance. "Though I wouldn't recommend testing this at Fangtasia's ladies' night."

Sookie crossed her arms. "Are we done with this little experiment?"

"Not yet." Eric strode to the porch. "Bubba!"

The vampire appeared in the doorway, his familiar face brightening. "Evening, Master Eric."

"I need you to tell me what you smell right now."

Bubba's nostrils flared as he inhaled. His eyes widened, pupils expanding to dark pools. He swayed forward, one foot crossing the threshold.

"Sweet Jesus..." he whispered, gaze darting around until it locked on Sookie. "Miss Sookie? That's you?"

"Stay where you are," Eric commanded, his voice like steel. "Describe it."

Bubba gripped the doorframe, knuckles whitening. "Like honeysuckle and sunshine... reminds me of summers back in Memphis..." His voice grew dreamy. "Makes my throat burn something fierce."

Eric stepped between them. "Can you control yourself?"

"Yes sir," Bubba nodded earnestly. "Might be harder for others, though. Especially the young ones who ain't learned discipline."

"Would you attack her?"

Bubba recoiled. "I'd never! Miss Sookie's been nothing but kind to me." His expression turned solemn. "Besides, she belongs to you."

Eric inclined his head. "Your loyalty is appreciated, Bubba."

Sookie planted her hands on her hips. "Are we finished with vampire show-and-tell?"

Eric's jaw tightened. "Eager to be elsewhere, lover?"

"Don't you dare blame me for this." Sookie's fingers sparked with faint gold light as she stepped toward him.

Pam sighed theatrically. "If you two are quite done circling each other like territorial cats..." She examined her manicure. "Congratulations on your fairy evolution, Sookie. Truly fascinating. Meanwhile, there's a vampire bar hemorrhaging money without its master's presence."

Eric's gaze darkened as the weight of unfinished business pressed upon him. Marion's message from Felipe hung between them like an unsheathed blade—a king's attempt to purchase what could not be bought. Three paths stretched before him, each thornier than the last: to claim Sookie openly and challenge a millennium of vampire tradition, gambling on the Amun clan's tolerance; to satisfy politics with a loveless arrangement while keeping her in shadows; or to release her entirely from his world, a thought that hollowed him from within.

Eric's eyes flicked to the clock in the corner. "I'll join you at Fangtasia by midnight."

Pam's perfectly arched eyebrow rose a fraction. "How generous of you," she drawled, stilettos clicking toward the door.

"If y'all don't mind," Bubba shuffled his feet, "I'd like to keep watch outside." His earnest gaze darted between them.

Amelia whispered something to the black cat winding between her ankles, then slipped down the hallway. The soft click of her bedroom door echoed in the sudden quiet.

Sookie's arms crossed over her chest, sparks dancing at her fingertips. "Spill it, Eric. Your face has that look—the one right before you drop another vampire bomb on me."

Eric gestured toward the living room. "We need to talk." The weight in his voice matched the heaviness settling in Sookie's chest.

She followed, arms locked across her body like a shield, sparks still dancing at her fingertips. The sofa cushion dipped beneath her as she perched on its edge, unwilling to relax.

Eric's ancient eyes searched her face. "Your transformation—why now?"

"Niall gave me seven days," Sookie said, chin lifting slightly. "The clock was ticking."

"That explains when, not why." His fingers steepled together. "The choice to fully embrace your fae nature—"

"Would you rather I hadn't?" Heat flashed in her eyes. "Last night you spoke of royal consorts and vampire politics. Well, here I am—powerful enough to stand beside a vampire King. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Eric's jaw tightened. "The Amun clan's approval remains uncertain, regardless of your newfound power."

"You promised me," Sookie said, sparks intensifying at her fingertips. "Either you'd convince them or refuse the crown altogether. What aren't you telling me?"

Eric's eyes darkened. Marion's unexpected visit had reshuffled the board. Declining kingship meant bending the knee to Felipe—a vampire who would view Sookie not as a person but as a supernatural asset to be claimed, controlled, or eliminated. Sophie-Anne's manipulations would seem like child's play by comparison.

Eric crossed the room with deliberate steps. "The oath I made you wasn't empty words, Sookie." His voice dropped to that intimate timbre that still made her skin prickle. "Your safety remains my highest concern."

"Even if that safety comes at the cost of us?" The first tear spilled over, tracing a hot path down her cheek.

"I don't desire that outcome, however—"

"HOWEVER WHAT?" The lamp beside her flickered as Sookie pushed herself off the sofa, putting distance between them.

Eric's shoulders tensed. "That night at my house..." He paused, decision made. Sookie's chin dipped in acknowledgment.

"The safe. You explored its contents." His tone remained neutral, though Sookie's gaze dropped to the floor. "Your curiosity doesn't trouble me." His accent thickened slightly. "But you encountered all the contents, yes? Including a certain photograph?"

"I did." Sookie's throat worked visibly. "I never intended—"

"Marion. Her name is Marion." The name hung between them. "We shared seven years together during my time in Paris."

"Seven years," Sookie echoed, voice hollow.

Eric's lips curved slightly. "A mere moment in vampire chronology." But the tightness around Sookie's eyes told him humans measured such things differently.

Sookie's fingers curled into her palms. "And what exactly does your ex want?"

"Marion appeared at Fangtasia yesterday—"

"Should I start marking my territory at your club too?" The sparks at Sookie's fingertips flared briefly.

Eric's eyes tracked the light but his expression remained neutral. "She bears Felipe's message. The Nevada king no longer merely covets Louisiana and Arkansas—he's mobilizing."

"While you're being offered a crown."

"A crown that puts a target on my back." Eric's gaze drifted toward the darkness beyond the window. "If I refuse, Felipe claims three territories and I serve him. If I accept, I face his inevitable challenge at some point."

Sookie's laugh held no humor. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't?"

Eric's lips curved upward. "You could say that."

Sookie crossed her arms, golden sparks still dancing at her fingertips. "Which path keeps my head attached to my shoulders? I know you've calculated every angle."

A glint of appreciation flashed in Eric's ancient eyes.

"Taking the crown provides you the strongest shield. Felipe would face greater obstacles challenging me than he does Sophie-Anne, and I'd have the clan's resources at my disposal."

"I hear a 'but' coming," Sookie said, her voice tight.

Eric's fingers steepled together. "Accepting the crown presents three scenarios: I could defy tradition and demand the clan recognize you as my sole consort. I could maintain our bond privately while fulfilling political obligations through marriage—"

"We've been down this road before, Eric." The lamp beside her flickered.

"Hear me out." His palm raised in a placating gesture. "The third option: secure you elsewhere until the political waters calm."

Sookie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Hold on. Just last night you insisted I couldn't visit Fairy because you don't want to lose time with me, said being physically separated would hurt us both, and now you're suggesting shipping me off somewhere?"

Eric leaned forward, his ancient eyes calculating. "What leverage might entice the Amun clan to consider the Brigants as allies rather than prey?"

Sookie's fingers stilled, the sparks momentarily extinguished. The history between their species flashed through her mind—centuries of vampires hunting fairy blood, treating her kind like walking delicacies. Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly.

"I can't imagine what would make them overlook a thousand years of treating us like dessert," she whispered, then lifted her chin. "But there has to be something we're missing."

Eric's jaw tightened as he caught the flicker of hope warring with fear in her eyes. He would need to craft an impossible bridge between ancient enemies—for her.

Eric's eyes took on that faraway look Sookie recognized from his strategic moments. "The Amun clan must be offered something they cannot obtain elsewhere—something uniquely fae."

Sookie's fingertips flared with light. "If your brilliant plan involves using my family as vampire juice boxes, I'll drive a stake through your heart myself."

Eric's eyes fixed on the dancing energy. "Those sparks betray you," he said, his voice low. "You better control them."

Sookie sank into the cushions, Eric settling beside her. The space between them hummed with tension.

"So, w've established you won't tolerate political marriages," Eric said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Not happening, buddy. And hiding me away somewhere is equally unacceptable," Sookie added.

"I'm aware." Eric's mouth twitched. "Perhaps Claudine might know something valuable enough to sway a vampire clan," Eric mused, his eyes calculating.

"I'll speak with her tomorrow while you're at Fangtasia." Sookie hesitated, then asked what had been burning in her mind. "About Marion... should I be worried?"

"Her visits won't continue."

"Eric." Sookie turned fully toward him, her knee brushing his thigh. "Seven years together means something, even to vampires. What really happened between you two?"

Eric's eyes shuttered, revealing only calculated fragments of truth.
"We wanted different things," he said, thumb circling the rim of his TruBlood bottle. "That proved incompatible, so I severed our bond."

"That's possible?" Sookie's fingers unconsciously traced the invisible thread connecting them.

"Yes." His voice dropped lower. "Few attempt it. The process is... excruciating."

"Would you ever—" The question caught in her throat.

"Never." Eric's cool fingers enveloped hers, his eyes holding centuries of certainty. "What flows between us remains unbroken unless you wish otherwise." His lips brushed her knuckles, the gesture more binding than any spoken vow. "This bond is mine to protect, not destroy."

Eric's gaze shuttered closed like ancient castle gates. Marion was a chapter from a book written in another language, in another lifetime. What purpose would it serve to translate it now?

His thumb traced the delicate bones of Sookie's wrist. "I need to go to Fangtasia."

"Wait—" Sookie's eyes widened. "You haven't fed yet tonight."

"I've survived starvation before, lover." His finger trailed down her throat, lingering at her pulse point. "Missing one meal hardly threatens my existence."

The sharp rap at the door sliced through their moment. They both tensed, instinctively rising.

"Who'd come calling this late?" Sookie moved toward the entryway, but Eric's arm barred her path.

"Don't." His voice left no room for argument. "I'll handle this one."

A/N: Thank you so much for waiting.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36 Recap:

The sharp rap at the door sliced through their moment. They both tensed, instinctively rising.

"Who'd come calling this late?" Sookie moved toward the entryway, but Eric's arm barred her path.

"Don't." His voice left no room for argument. "I'll handle this one."

Chapter 37: Is this the parade of exes?

Eric yanked open the door and his shoulders stiffened. "Oh, fuck me. Is this an exes parade? Should we start selling tickets?"

"Who is it?" Sookie squeezed beside Eric to see for herself, her breath catching in her throat.

There on her porch stood a silhouette she'd memorized years ago. The same broad shoulders. The same stance. Her pulse quickened despite everything. Five years had passed for him while she'd been in Fairy, yet not a word since her return. She'd checked her phone in secret too many times, pretending she wasn't waiting. Now here he stood on her porch—the man who'd taught her what heartbreak felt like, and still, something inside her hummed with recognition.

Sookie's pulse betrayed her, and Eric's nostrils flared at the scent of her quickened blood. His fangs descended with an audible click as he shifted his weight, positioning himself between her and the doorway.

"Compton." The name sliced through the air like ice. "To what do we owe this... inconvenient surprise?"

Bill stood frozen on the threshold, his eyes reflecting moonlight like twin pools of disbelief. "Sookie..." The name escaped his lips as if he'd been holding his breath for five years.

Eric shifted, the movement subtle but unmistakable as he positioned himself between them. "You've crossed into my area without notification, Compton. I'm still the Sheriff." His voice carried the weight of centuries, each syllable a territorial marker.

Sookie's fingers curled against Eric's back, steadying herself. The sight of Bill—so familiar yet suddenly foreign—sent memories cascading through her. Their history hung in the air between them, tangible as the Louisiana humidity.

Something flickered across Bill's features as his gaze traced the new luminescence beneath her skin. His control remained perfect, the discipline of a vampire who had once claimed her blood, her bed, her heart. A heart that had learned to beat for someone else.

Bill straightened his posture, his Southern accent more pronounced than usual. "Sheriff Northman, I apologize for entering your territory without proper notification. I request a brief stay to manage some matters at the Compton estate."

Eric's fangs retracted with a soft click, his refusal forming on his lips when Sookie stepped forward.

"Bill." Just his name, spoken in that honeyed Bon Temps drawl. Both vampires turned to her—Bill with barely concealed hope, Eric with a flash of possessive concern. Through their bond, Eric sensed the complicated tangle of emotions Sookie herself couldn't fully unravel. The steady thrum of her heartbeat betrayed an undeniable fondness for her first love, even as it beat in rhythm with Eric's existence.

Through their bond, Eric felt Sookie's plea like a physical tug. Her emotions washed over him in waves—compassion, nostalgia, a hint of guilt—all silently asking him to grant Bill temporary sanctuary. Eric's jaw tightened, but he gave a barely perceptible nod. Fangtasia would have to wait tonight; he wouldn't leave her alone with Compton, not when the scent of their shared history still hung in the air. Pam would have his fangs for this, but her rage had always been negotiable for the right price—preferably one with no spending limit and next-day shipping from Fifth Avenue.

The memory of rescinding Bill's invitation after their final fight flashed through Sookie's mind. She traced her fingertips down the cool plane of Eric's back—half reassurance, half claiming—before meeting Bill's waiting gaze across the threshold no vampire could cross without permission.

"Bill," she said, the name both familiar and foreign on her tongue, "would you like to come in? I'll hand you a TruBlood."

Bill's gaze locked with Eric's, a silent challenge hanging between them at the threshold. Eric's jaw tightened before he shifted his weight, creating just enough space for Bill to pass—not an inch more. As Bill crossed into Sookie's home, Eric's chest vibrated with a low, primal sound that needed no translation.

The microwave hummed from the kitchen where Sookie prepared the synthetic blood, leaving the two immortal rivals suspended in the narrow hallway, centuries of existence compressed into the inches between them.

Bill's eyes narrowed as the silence between them stretched taut. "I see you finally claimed what you've been circling for years."

"If you're referring to Sookie," Eric said, his voice dangerously soft, "she makes her own choices."

"She's different. That's for sure." Bill's nostrils flared slightly. "That essence, it's stronger... but underneath it, your scents have mingled completely."

"Yes." Eric's lips curved upward, fangs just barely visible. "They have."

Sookie returned with the warmed TruBlood, the bottle's crimson contents catching the light as she handed it to Bill. "So, what brings you back to Bon Temps after all this time?" Her voice remained carefully neutral, though her eyes flickered briefly to Eric.

Bill's fingers brushed hers as he accepted the bottle, his touch cool and familiar. "My family's estate requires attention," he replied, his accent thick as molasses. "Years of neglect takes its toll, even on vampire property."

She gestured toward the living room, positioning herself between the two vampires as they moved. The air seemed to crackle between them, like the static before a Louisiana thunderstorm.

They settled into the living room like pieces on a chessboard—Bill on the edge of the armchair, Eric claiming the couch beside Sookie, his arm stretched possessively along the cushions behind her. Bill's eyes fixed on Sookie as if Eric had vanished into thin air.

"I've been gone four years," he said, voice soft as cemetery moss, "and I return to find you... what's the story?"

Sookie exhaled slowly, her fingers finding the frayed edge of the couch cushion. The familiar weight of explanation settled on her shoulders.

"After what happened between us," she began, her eyes fixed on the worn floorboards, "my life took an unexpected turn." She felt Eric's cool presence beside her but didn't reach for him. "Claudine, my Fae cousin, appeared that night—turns out she was actually my fairy godmother all along." A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "She whisked me away to Faery, where I spent what felt like just over an hour meeting Niall Brigant—my great-grandfather and, believe it or not, fairy royalty."

She finally looked up, catching the flicker in Bill's eyes—that perfect vampire stillness that somehow still revealed everything. The regret etched into his features was unmistakable; he'd given up searching after that first year. One year when Eric had waited five.

"Time moves differently there," she continued, her voice steadier now. "My hour was your five years. I came home to find my own memorial plaque at the cemetery and Eric..." Her voice softened despite herself. "Eric keeping my porch light on long after everyone else had turned theirs off."

Bill leaned forward in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on Sookie. "I never stopped—"

"Don't," Sookie cut him off, her Southern drawl sharpening. "Which part are you apologizing for exactly? Lying to me? Assuming I was dead without a proper search and leaving?"

Eric's lips curled into the faintest smile as he watched her, his thumb tracing an idle pattern against the couch behind her shoulders.

Bill's fingers tightened around the TruBlood bottle. "I believed what I did was necessary. My feelings for you were never fabricated, Sookie. Whatever else happened between us, that was real."

Eric shifted his weight on the couch, his arm snaking possessively around Sookie's waist, the gesture more eloquent than words.

"I believe we've covered the essentials," Eric said, his voice deceptively casual. "You can go now, Bill".

Bill's gaze remained fixed on Sookie, his jaw set with Southern stubbornness. "I'm not finished here."

Sookie crossed her arms over her chest. "Well?"

"There's something different about you." Bill's nostrils flared slightly. "That light under your skin... it's brighter now. Your scent is stronger." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And Eric's blood runs through you."

"You're right on all counts," Sookie said, lifting her chin. "I've stopped fighting what I am. And I've chosen who I want to be with."

Eric went perfectly still beside her, the kind of stillness only a vampire could achieve. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against her waist as her declaration hung in the air between them. After centuries of taking what he wanted, here was something freely given that he had never dared demand.

Sookie rose from the couch —and Eric with her— smoothing her clothes with deliberate movements. "Well, I think now we've covered everything," she said, her Louisiana drawl stretching the words into a polite dismissal.

Bill's eyes darted between her and Eric, his shoulders tensing as he calculated impossible odds. Eric's fingers remained splayed possessively against the small of Sookie's back, a silent claim more ancient than words.

Something prickled at the edges of Sookie's consciousness—not quite telepathy, but a new awareness that hummed like static electricity. Bill's desire to speak with her alone radiated from him as clearly as heat from summer asphalt. She pretended not to notice, her gaze sliding toward the door. Whatever words Bill had saved for her alone could stay unspoken for tonight.

The resignation in Bill's eyes told the story of a man who knew when a door had closed. He rose stiffly, Southern dignity intact despite the defeat.

"Five days," Eric said, his voice carrying a warning as he stood by the open door. "I trust that will be sufficient for your... family matters."

Bill's jaw tightened as he stepped across the threshold, the night air swallowing him without comment.

Bill lingered on the porch steps, his dark eyes meeting Sookie's across the threshold. Later, perhaps, she would grant him the private conversation he so clearly wanted. But not tonight. Not with Eric's cool presence at her back, solid as marble and twice as unyielding.

The door clicked shut, and Sookie turned to find herself trapped between solid wood and Eric's immovable form, his palms flat against the door on either side of her shoulders.
"Rescind his invitation," he said, each syllable precise as a knife edge. The blue of his eyes had vanished, swallowed by pupils so dilated they seemed to absorb all light from the room. "Now" He growled this time. "You will not see him again."

Sookie slammed her palms against Eric's chest. "Are you out of your mind?" Her voice cracked like summer lightning. "This is my house, Eric Northman. Mine. You don't get to dictate who crosses my threshold!"

"MINE!" The word exploded from Eric's throat, his fangs fully extended now, face transformed into something ancient and feral. The windows rattled in their frames.

Amelia burst from the kitchen, a half-eaten sandwich abandoned in her rush. "What the hell—"

"LEAVE US!" Eric whirled toward her, moving so fast he blurred, his face inches from hers. The air temperature plummeted ten degrees.

"Back off, vampire," Amelia hissed, her fingers already tracing protective sigils. Behind her, Bob's fur stood electrified, his yowl piercing the tension.

"Eric!" Sookie lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body like touching a live wire. His skin felt like ice-covered marble.

Eric's eyes locked on hers, pupils swallowing the blue until only obsidian remained. "He will never touch what is mine again." Each word dripped with thousand-year-old possession.

"I think you need to leave" Amelia's voice cut through the room, power vibrating beneath each syllable. "Now."

Sookie's heart hammered against her ribs like it might shatter them. Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks as she stared into the abyss of Eric's rage. Through their blood bond, she felt his jealousy—a writhing, venomous thing—but beneath it pulsed something rawer: terror. Terror of losing her. Again.

Five years of waiting, of maintaining her home while others mourned, of researching fairy lore until his eyes burned—he couldn't survive losing her again. Not when he'd finally tasted what it meant to be chosen.

"Very well," he said, the words brittle as ice. The door frame splintered beneath his palm as he slammed it shut. The night air cooled his skin but did nothing for the storm raging inside him. His boots crunched across the gravel drive, each step hardening his resolve. There was only one way to secure what was his.

His senses caught the scent before he reached the cemetery's edge. Eric stopped, shoulders rigid.

"Son of a bitch" Bill's voice drifted from between the tombstones. "You couldn't have told me she had come back, could you?"

"You didn't need to know," Eric kept his back to Bill, his voice glacial.

"You let her believe I abandoned her." Bill's words cut through the cemetery air. "I should end you where you stand."

A cold smile touched Eric's lips. "By all means, try."

The moonlight caught the rigid set of Bill's shoulders as he measured the futility of his threat. Nine centuries of warfare, enhanced reflexes, and raw Viking power stood between him and any chance of victory.

"She deserved to know what really happened," Bill's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

Eric's laugh held no warmth. "And how would that serve our interests?"

"You banished me from the state, from the country!" The words exploded from Bill, echoing among the tombstones.

Eric finally turned, his ancient eyes unreadable. "Tell me Bill, what response could possibly satisfy you?"

Bill's fangs glinted in the moonlight. "You talk of love while building it on lies. What would Sookie think if she knew?"

"Spare me your moral posturing," Eric said, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "You, who came to Bon Temps on your queen's orders to seduce her."

Bill's fingers curled into fists at his sides. "You manipulated her."

Eric's laugh cut through the cemetery air. "She was already done with you, Compton. Long before I made any move."

He closed the distance between them in a blur of movement, his hand finding Bill's throat with ancient precision. He hoisted the younger vampire until Bill's feet barely grazed the cemetery soil. Moonlight caught on Eric's descended fangs as he leaned in, close enough for Bill to feel death's promise.

"What I feel for her," Eric whispered, his Nordic accent thickening with rage, "makes your infatuation look like a child's drawing of the sun." His grip tightened, marble fingers pressing into undead flesh. "She chose me, not because you weren't around, but because I knew how to love her in a way you never did." The pressure of his grip increased, stone against stone. One powerful thrust sent Bill flying backward into a weathered headstone that cracked under the impact. Eric straightened his leather jacket with casual menace. "Your continued existence? That's my gift to her, not you. Remember that".

Bill lunged forward with a snarl, his fangs fully extended.

Eric sidestepped with preternatural grace, the movement so fluid it seemed choreographed. "Nine centuries between us, and still you challenge me?" His voice carried the weariness of millennia. "Over a woman who has bound herself to me three times in blood?"

The momentum of Bill's failed attack sent him crashing into an ancient oak. Before he could rise, Pam materialized from the darkness, her stiletto heel pressing between his shoulder blades.

"I once found your Southern brooding charming," she drawled, examining her manicure. "Now it's just... tiresome." She glanced toward Eric. "The club was dead tonight anyway."

From the shadows emerged another figure. "Bubba," Eric commanded without turning, "guard Sookie's house. No one approaches." The vampire nodded and vanished into the night.

None of them noticed the faint golden shimmer at the cemetery's edge—fairy eyes watching, fairy ears listening everything.

A/N: Ouch, I don't like Eric being violent with Sookie either, but let's not forget who he is. Yes, he's absolutely in love with her, but he's still the most lethal and feared vampire in the state, and for good reason. He'll never hurt her, but the guy has his temper. I also know that many here will criticise me for bringing Bill back, but everything has a purpose. The appearance of exes is important to remember that we are dealing with two people who have baggage, one more than the other, with unresolved issues, wounds, and traumas, and it's precisely these things that define a relationship and its strength. The infatuation stage is wonderful, yes, but it's not what helps the relationship solidify. I love these two characters too much to create a superficial and simply romantic story for them. Hope you all understand and bare with me :)