Author: Regala Electra
Fandom True Blood
Spoilers: True Blood S2 I Will Rise Up
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Content
Summary: He made Eric in his own image.
Word Count: 500
Author’s Notes: A series of 100 drabbles done in the five things style. Writing about vampires after being away from them for so long is kind of weird. FYI, Godric is allegedly over 2,000 years old.
He promises eternal life the way a mother coddles her child. The heady flow of his blood pours into Eric’s mouth until it is too much to bear. It is here their bond is birthed. Satisfaction is thick on his tongue, the only taste that can rival blood.
Godric walks a long way before he makes the final preparations, digging into the deep, cold earth with bare hands.
He buries Eric where the surviving warriors will make camp tomorrow.
There is nothing more beautiful than seeing his creation in the frenzy of slaughter.
In the ravages of death, they fuck.
We are death and they are our prey.
Blood is power.
Eric’s faith is unshakeable and he is a rapt pupil, body bent in supplication.
There are infinite lessons to be taught of the glorious ways to taste the potent human life pouring out of warm bodies. Eric is drawn to fight and fuck: the swell of panic as he drinks deep, bringing death too soon.
“You will be punished,” Godric says, pushing aside the pretty little corpse. “ I wasn’t finished.”
“Yes,” Eric agrees, offering his neck. He should have his throat ripped out for his insolence but Godric laughs, a sound that fades in Eric’s mouth.
You will always hunger for more.
“Believe me,” Eric swears, glamoring the priest. “We will protect you.”
Limb from limb, they do all they promised. The choir has excellent screamers and they glut themselves on blood.
“And this holy man?” Godric offers the whimpering flesh to Eric, faint lacerations hinting at the dense repression lovingly stored in his blood.
Eric looks at the human as it prays to God. “What mercy do you seek?”
Eric looks away. “He’s old and sour.”
“Let us make him sweet.”
Eric soundly snaps the priest’s neck, the body sagging in Godric’s arms.
“You disobeyed me.”
“I was not hungry.”
Ours is a cruelty that has no end.
“I must go,” Godric says one night as they watch the ships waiting in the harbor for their next voyage. This is a new age of exploration, of new spices and foods. There is also the gold humans seek with the viciousness of vampires.
There are the new humans from great distances, belonging somewhere new and untouched. He craves the novelty of the unknown and cannot retract his fangs at the thought of what awaits him.
“I will go with you.”
“No. You will not.”
“You command this?”
When he leaves Eric without answer, he supposes that is answer enough.
This is what you love most: life.
Pain is the constant between the living and the dead.
“Keep going,” Godric orders, angling his hips better. Despite bedding many women Eric is unsure, moving with frustrating leisure. This gentleness is an echo of humanity that must be snuffed. Pain is good. “It does not hurt.”
A challenge. When he begins fucking him open, Eric's fangs scrape along the dead pulse of his throat. “I could kill you.”
“But you won't.”
One cold hand wraps around Godric’s cock, fangs rending the throat open. Eric greedily drinks blood that cannot sustain him.
“You are mine,” he lies.