Chapter Text
The sound of pinecones hitting the frozen ground and bouncing off into the underbrush filled the air and Eric scowled as one of the little projectiles hit him on the head, turning to glare in the general direction of his maker as Godric’s quiet chuckle filled the air.
Eric turned back around and aimed another kick at the defenseless tree in front of him. The air around the two vampires was still and cold, small sounds making their way through to them from the forest, creatures that were still up and about, despite the cold and promise of snow.
There was very little to keep one occupied in the dead of night, in the middle of winter and, while Eric was a very creative soul he was also, for lack of a better word, bored.
Another pinecone made a temporary landing on his head and Eric growled at it, bending down to pick it up and hefting it back, target already in his mind. His arm was already going for a wind up when a soft voice made its way to his ear and he felt his body freeze.
“I wouldn’t where I you childe, not if I wanted to make it to tomorrow in once piece.”
Eric’s fingers opened and the pinecone hit the ground, rolling away to join its brethren and Eric shot his maker an unimpressed look, teeth grinding together and chin jutting out.
Where Godric an easily intimidated individual, the sight of a towering Viking warrior glaring at him might have been enough to send him running but, to Eric’s long-suffering ego, the only thing his show of unhappiness brought him was another light laugh and a head shake from his maker.
It’s just… Eric was so damn bored. There was only so much to do and only so many times one could weave a basket or sharpen a knife before the repetition of the act itself would drive one mad and in the thousand plus years that Eric had lived out his life, much of it away in a time that had not yet happened, he had forgotten just how dull everything used to be.
There was no TV, no internet, gone was the radio, a loss that Eric had never thought he would miss but here he was. No more flash and neon lights, no cellphones or YouTube, no indoor plumbing or soft expensive beds. Just wood and stone, dirt and cold and nights filled with snatching unaware humans from around their campfires and while that act in and of itself was enjoyable and Eric knew he should be grateful, and most of the time he was, right now he was bored.
And a little annoyed.
And very, very close to throwing a fit simply to have something to do.
Actually…
Stomping warned Godric of his childe's coming a second before Eric made himself known, and Godric had just enough warning to steel himself before his childe started in on him, voice loud and echoing in the still night.
Eric was filled with the kind of fire reserved solely for the very young and the very stupid, a kind of righteous indignation that filled a person with the utmost assurance that no matter the fuss they made, they were well within the parameters of propriety to do so, even when their tirade was dumb, incorrect or short sighted.
Godric raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself at Eric’s incredibly loud monologue, something about “and we’ve been wasting away sitting here when there’s a whole world out there” and “if I have to put on one more pair of deer skin pants I’m going to stake myself,” before he turned back to the small bit of wood in his hand, bringing his knife back down to continue whittling.
Eric stamped his foot against the ground at his makers clear dismissal of him and his cares and in the split second it takes for a person to make an incredibly stupid mistake, Eric gave in to his temper and let the red cloud of anger in his mind take over his common sense, one hand darting out and slapping the little wood figure right out of his maker’s hand, eyes frozen open as he watched it roll its way down the little incline that their nights resting spot was sat upon.
Retribution came swift and Eric didn’t even bother to fight it as a hand made its way to his hair and yanked, letting his body fold as his knees hit the ground. He chanced a look at his maker’s face but Godric was far too good at keeping up his poker face and the only thing Eric received for his trouble was another sharp tug to the top of his head.
His maker crouched in front of him, one hand still in his hair, grip loosening just the slightest, other hand on the ground between his legs in a sham of needing it to keep his balance, the look in his face calm, despite the steel in his eyes.
There were many things that Eric loved in life, many things that he missed and many things that he wouldn’t see again for a very, very long time.
He missed his childe, his Pam, he missed his sister, he missed the power that he had used to have, the command he had carried with himself always.
And right now, on the frozen ground in the middle of the woods, on his knees before his maker, with his life very literally in the others hands and his being woven so tightly into Godric’s grip that the divide between souls was imperceptible, Eric was reminded of a world alone, a world filled with distractions and noise but a world missing the one thing that Eric really wanted.
And that was Godric.
And Godric was here, right in front of him, looking at him with one-part irritation and once part desperate fondness and Eric couldn’t help but to smile at his maker.
Godric huffed, mouth opening to let out the air and eyes rolling up to stare at the sky in a desperate bid for patience, hand long gone lax on Eric’s head, idle fingers taken to gently running themselves through the strands of his childe's soft hair.
He spared his childe another look, focusing on keeping the humor off his face and out of his voice, “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you childe?”
Eric raised an eyebrow and Godric took it to mean the no it was intended as, “I understand the restlessness that fills you,” he continued, “you are young and used to adventure and perhaps I have been remiss in keeping us away from the world.” Godric’s eyes softened and his hand slipped from Eric hair to cradle the side of his childe’s face.
“This world is large and hard and there is a deep, overwhelming need in me to keep you safe from it,” Eric held his breath and his body still, “it seems however, that in my desperate loss to emotions, I have been neglecting your needs, and that won’t do.”
Eric felt the hand on his face slip away as his maker lowered himself down to sit cross legged and Eric felt himself tip forward, seeking the warmth and comfort that had come with the touch. Godric’s lips twitched, the only outward indication that he had noticed Eric’s reaction and Eric was immensely glad that he could no longer blush.
There was a lull then, that took over, as the two sat across each other lost in the comfort of their own thoughts and quite assurance that they were not alone. It was broken by the shuffling of Eric’s body as he twisted himself to lay supine on the ground, forcing his maker to lift his hands off his lap so that Eric could lay his head there instead.
There where so many differences this time around, things that Eric took note of, worriedly at first, with thoughts that carried fear over an uncertain future, a ‘if all things do not carry out the way they did before, would they, he and Godric, be as they had been before? Would they grow together, become so much closer than family, so much closer than understanding, if the very beginning of this new start did not occur as it had before?
It had been with a jolt that Eric had realized that the very last thing he wanted was an assured outcome, he already knew were the old future ended up, and he was here, ready to do anything to keep that from happening again, anything.
So, Eric had decided to throw caution to the wind, to hell with theoretical scientist and physicist and whomever else said not to meddle with time, they weren’t here and if they had been, well, Eric still would not have given a shit.
The easy affection that Godric shared with him, the calmness of his tone and the softness of his touch, all things that had grown between them the first-time round, a natural closeness that came with shared time, hardship and trust.
This time, this take two that only Eric was aware of had seen a rush put on them, things that had taken years to grow last time where now, in the space of one short year, already so common place that Eric couldn’t help but wonder if the hold up last time had been on his shoulders.
There had been no hesitation for Eric this time, no mistrust or holding back, there had been only the truth of Godric right before him and the desperation to never leave his side, and his maker seemed to pick up on that.
Eris was no fool, he knew that time washed out memories and a thousand years was plenty of time for his past to have colored itself with a rose tint, but he also knew, that despite the gaps and the embellishment that life had brought him, that this Godric was different.
He was gentler with Eric this time around, slower to lose his temper and quicker to offer comfort. Godric was many things but to Eric, in the privacy of his own mind, he had always likened his maker to a summer storm, still and quiet and filled with calm but capable of lashing out and destroying anything and everything in his path should the need arise.
And Godric was still very much like that, he hadn’t yet lived the years it had taken him to reach the state of continues level that he had been at before his passing, here, in this time, he was still a storm caught inside a bottle.
There was never a time, not this round or the last, that Eric had truly feared his maker, there had been time that he had feared what his maker could do but he had never felt true fear for himself, but there had still been times of unease, times when disquiet could have easily taken a turn and it had only been after many years that Eric knew in his deepest being, that Godric would never do wrong by him.
Which once more left him to believe that the change between him and his maker this time around was on his shoulders, because while Godric may not know him, may not be privy to the love and faith between them, Eric was and there had been no hesitation in the way he had fallen in to step with his maker, not this time.
There had been a moment where Eric had mourned a disappeared past, longing after a closeness that he could have had the first time round had he not been so guarded, but as quick as those thoughts started, he had pushed them away. There was no point in wanting what he already had and to ask for it was a selfishness even he felt wrong for.
The real question, Eric mused, relaxing further into Godric, was now that he had gotten his maker to perhaps agree on leaving the damn forest, where was it that they should go.
#
London was… disgusting.
The air was thick, the stench of rotting meat, death and unwashed bodies so strong that Eric couldn’t help but to double over, stomach revolting at the cacophony of death in the air.
The streets where crowded and loud, life not slowing down simply because night had fallen, and people pressed up against him from all sides, no one sparing him or his maker a second glance as they rushed about, their own lives and troubles on their minds.
There was a light tug on his sleeve and Eric turned, slinking himself closer to his maker as the man pulled him over and to the side of the road. There was a crease between his makers eyebrows and Eric startled with the realization that he himself was the reason for its existence.
His maker was worried about him, worried about how his instinct and impulses where holding up, packed in and surrounded by humans like this. It rankled at Eric sometimes, the way that his maker treated him, like a child incapable of controlling himself against temptation, but, then again, that’s exactly what he was to Godric, a childe, just turned and not yet in control.
Godric didn’t know that they were, the two of them, far closer in age to each other than they were apart and while Eric’s body may have been just turned his mind was that of a master vampire with all the experience and control that came with a life that spanned over a thousand years.
There was a little voice in the back of Eric’s head, one that sounded suspiciously like his childe’s condescending tone, that reminded him of the fact that he had been akin to an impulsive child even at a thousand.
There was a hand softly stroking the side of his face and it brought Eric out of his musings, his eyes once more landing on Godric’s concerned face. He gave his maker a small smile, the very edge of his lip twisting up and watched with satisfaction as his maker relaxed in front of him.
Godric’s voice was quite when he spoke but the sound was loud to Eric’s sharp hearing and the little knot in his stomach undid itself at the words.
“There is much here childe, sound and smell that you are not accustomed to, should you feel the need, know that I am right here.”
Eric’s next smile was wide and bright, no matter what, no matter when or how far apart they were, his maker was always there with him.
#
The little apartment that they settled in was in the heart of London, surrounded by the bustle of a busy city, a good place to get lost and go unnoticed. The landlord was a butcher with a very conveniently placed shop just under their home that made hiding their nightly meals one less trouble.
The distractions of the city became easier to deal with the longer they were sounded by it and very soon Eric found that both he and Godric had settled into a comfortable routine, and although Eric did find his daily struggle to get his maker to wear actual clothes and not his beloved forest child rags to be a hassle, it did come with a good amount of amusement.
Life in 11th century was both exactly what Eric remembered it to be and nothing he remembered at all, but at least here, in the city, there was always something to do, a far cry from the monotony of the forest and wilderness that they had been spending their time in.
For all that Godric had been reluctant to move them into a city, his maker would have a hard time denying that the change of pace was a nice one, the knowledge of which Eric kept close to his heart. No point stirring the pot.
The first time around, when Eric really had been a newborn in all things vampire, not simply in body as was his state now, the vendetta that he had carried with him as a human was very much still a driving force after he had been turned, and while the anger for his slain family was still there, the need to avenge them still important, Eric knew that he had more than enough time.
He had the name of the one who had done it and he was a thousand years ahead of him.
#
Despite his relief of finally having a distraction, Eric knew his maker was having a harder time them him adjusting; Godric had told him once about his past, about the life that he had lived before turning Eric, and while his maker had not gone into detail, there had been enough shared and Eric would never forget the surge of protective strength that had come over him at the tale.
There was no person, wolf or vampire on this earth stronger than his maker, Eric was sure of this, but even those with a will of iron sometimes needed support systems and Eric wanted nothing more than to be everything his maker needed.
The trick was holding his maker up without giving away the fact that that was what he was doing, a task far more difficult than it looked; that Eric knew from experience.
But if Godric was the strongest, Eric was the most stubborn, and he intended on holding tight to that title.
#
The man blocking their path was large, his belly protruding past the tolerance of the buttons on his shirt, a bottle of cheap liquor clutched tight in one hammy fist. The night was dark and cold, whispers of a breeze stirring the air through the crooked ally Eric and his maker where in, a half-moon casting shadows over the city and bathing the world in washed out grey.
The mere idea if a human being the one to block their path was enough for Eric to feel the need to grin, his lips curling up into a smile that did nothing but convey the menacing emotions rising up in him. One look at his maker, however, showed Godric to be still, all outward appearance cold and cool as marble. But Eric knew his maker, knew his tells, as small as they may be, and Godric was nervous.
Why though?
It couldn’t be the human, he was nothing, a small bump in the night that no one would miss. What could have his maker on end then?
The man in front of them let out a belch, the smell not adding to the splendor of the general aroma of the high middle ages in London, and Eric wrinkled his nose. They were out to hunt tonight, and here was a meal all but offering itself, it was time to snatch and grab and so Eric made to move forward, stopping as a small hand grabbed his wrist.
He turned to Godric, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, obeying his maker even as the drunk man started slurring lewd comments at them, stumbling and waiving his drink in the air to punctuate the words, most of which were aimed at Godric, and Eric silently vowed to kill the man extra messy.
There was a tug on his arm and Eric leaned down, positioning his ear to be closer to his makers mouth, straining to hear the whispered words that came, none of them helping to clear up his confusion. “Hold childe, there is something wrong in the air, I can feel it.”
Eric looked around, besides the three of them the ally was deserted, the only signs of life that of random debris left by the days passing and the people who had lived it. Eric made to move at the man once more but the grip on his arm grew tighter, almost painful.
Godric was still, his body held so tight that Eric was slightly frightened something would snap. There was a prolonged moment of silence where a hush seemed to fall over all three in the ally, including their impending dinner and in that moment, Eric could feel something shift, a cold that took over his mind and filled it with a foreboding.
The grip his maker had on him became a two hold, as Eric moved his own hand to grip the back of Godric’s shirt; whatever was coming would have to get through him before it even thought about going for his maker.
And then, faster than even Eric’s senses could comprehend, the drunk man was dead, neck ripped open and sprawled lifelessly on the floor, even as his body still twitched.
There was a stranger now stood before them, face hidden by a hood and fresh, red blood dripping from long nails. Eric would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the dramatic display, if not for the aura surrounding the new stranger.
The very darkness of the nights seemed laughable in the face this new presence, that stood there, still and silent, a small twist of lips being the only give away to a personality. The air and shadow seemed to shimmer and twist into itself, and while Eric knew that it was most probably his imagination, it almost looked like the darkness was alive.
Eric had to fight the urge to cower behind his maker, his safe place. Godric’s hand shifted minutely, barely noticeable except for the renewed strength in the grip and Eric understood the silent order. Do not move, do not speak, do not interfere.
When the person spoke, Eric shivered at the tone.
“Little one, we thought you lost to time.”
The words, for all that they sounded fond, came out with the slyness of a snake, suffocated in hidden meaning. The stranger continued; one blood drenched coming up to their mouth as they licked their finger, then used it to point at Eric, “I see you’ve made a friend, this one is… pretty.”
Eric fought back the urge to flinch, still watching his maker, waiting for a sign that it was time to fight. Or to run. But Godric stood still, not even a twitch or tremor to give away his true feelings, and if this had been the very first time that Eric had met him, he would have thought him unaffected.
But this wasn’t. Eric had more than a thousand years of Godric in his head and more than body language, he knew Godric, and his maker was terrified.
His maker was also angry, no furious. Eric could feel it bubbling under Godric’s skin, nearly enough to wash away the fear, an all-consuming rage that had the potential to burn down city’s and destroy lives.
“Tiamat, it has been, not nearly as many years as I had hoped it would be.”
The stranger laughed and Eric startled, he hadn’t expected such a high tinkly sound, not out the menacing character before him.
Godric continued, his voice even and clear, the pitch steady, “Can I perhaps assume, that your presence heralds the others?”
The laughing continued, even as the newly named Tiamat answered, conveying as clearly as they could that they found both Godric and Eric nothing to be worried about.
“Are you attempting to share that you missed us, little one? We missed you, all of us. That is why we searched to very hard.” Tiamat turned their head, tilting it just enough that Eric could see the cold glint of something indescribable in their eyes. “No one ever, fit, the way you did.” Another smile, “You can come home now, you know there’s always a place for you.”
The fire under Godric’s skin was turning into something unstoppable, whatever was happening here, Eric knew they needed to draw it to a close. Something was going to happen, soon. Possibly something terrible, but not this night, not until Eric knew what and who they were facing.
So he whimpered.
Quiet and soft; too soft to even be heard by any vampire that was standing more than a foot away, too soft to be heard by this terrifying stranger that seemed to know so much more about Godric’s secret past than he had ever shared with Eric, but not too soft for his maker to hear, and while Godric was many things, he was above all else, a dedicated maker.
The cloud of memory and pain cleared at the sound, the anger backing away to lay in wait until it could strike, somewhere he could battle his past, somewhere far away while his childe was safe and secure.
Godric tilted his head, the first time that he had shown any movement since the drunk man had been slain and moved until his chin was up in the air ever so slightly. “As much as I would love to see the rest of the Ring, I am afraid that we must be going, but,” and here the words took on an affliction that sounded very close to mocking, “I will be seeing you soon. Send my regards.”
Tiamat smiled in response to his words, shifting her body as if preparing herself to jump, her words lingering in the air even as she disappeared. “Do not worry little one, I will.”
#
That night, safe in the little hole in the wall flat that he and his maker shared, Eric begged to be told of his maker’s history. Of who that person was, of what they might be facing. But Godric had only answered his stream of questions with silence, finger pressed to one temple the only sign that his maker was unsettled, and only speaking to tell Eric that his childe would drink from him that night. It was not safe to wonder the streets.
Eric thought about throwing a fit, about refusing to back down until his demands were met, but he couldn’t. Because, as his maker had wrapped around him to hold him as he fed, the look in his maker’s eyes, on his makers face was that of a person who had already chosen, who knew exactly what move they were going to make next.
Eric put his arguments to rest for the night, there was no point in continuing, for all that Godric was so very lax with him, nothing on this planet could change his mind when he had that look on his face.
Godric would tell him when he decided the time was right, and that was all there was to it.