Eric Northman is finally free 100 years after he began his marriage contract with Freyda in Oklahoma. Denied his happy ending, he returns to Bon Temps only to meet an eerily familiar blonde.
Rated T-M for some language, mild adult content, violence, and features Eric, Pam, a few OC’s, Niall, Bill, Claude, Claudette and a little Sookie.
Dead and the Descendant (chapter one below!) is my very first attempt at a bit of fan fiction and set in the Sookie Stackhouse/Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I’m unbeta-ed, but anal-retentive.
It revolves around Eric Northman and takes place (straying slightly here and there from cannon) 100 years after Dead Ever After (yeah, we’re going to pretend like After Dead never existed.) It contains a couple of original characters, but I don’t own the majority. They all belong to Charlaine Harris and I am only a babysitter of the most irresponsible kind.
This was fun to write, and being my first, it will always be special to me. I may have ideas for them in the future, but as of now the work is complete and no new adventures have been whispered to me.
If you prefer, it can be found also on Fanfiction.net here or scroll down to begin!
Yes, I’m a little obsessed with this character.
Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoy it!!
One hundred years. Over today.
I was free. Ocella’s last maker missive, unbreakable even in final death, had been completed. It was over.
And she was gone.
I knew this in my bones, as surely as I knew when night had fallen. My sweet southern belle, the woman I’d love until I met my own final death, was no longer living in this world. Though I’d lost the bond so quickly after we had made it, by her choice no less, part of me was always with her, always knew she was alive and happy living with her shifter and little family. It was enough. She was happy. She had the life I’d never be able to provide. It was enough.
I’d held on to that little bit of happiness that was hers, the happiness that only my walking away had been able to give, and it got me through the monotony and boredom of life in Oklahoma. Being a ‘kept’ vampire, as I’m sure Ocella was fully aware, was like being castrated. I hated every second. I hated everyone around me. I hated vampires. I hated shifters. I hated the simpering, sycophant humans. I hated myself. How many nights had I contemplated staking Freyda and indiscriminately killing my way back to Louisiana? How many years had I spent a millisecond from acting on the impulse? Especially during the first twenty. Missing Sookie. Seeing her face in my mind, smiling at me, stoking her graceful, sun kissed skin, it was maddening. I am thankful that I have learned to control myself in my 1100 years on this Earth.
Still, she was gone.
When the official news came, Freyda was hosting the Nevada group. Felipe, even after sixty years of seeing my degradation, could not help himself announcing in somber tones (which contradicted the glee on his face) that “his telepath” had died of old age. I may have broken a few items throughout the rest of that evening, imagining them to be the various vital organs of those who held the chains of my captivity. I knew he had continued to use her talents during her life, why would he stop? But, I knew she had not been abused, or taken from her family. Veiled threats of final death and unimaginable torture may have had a hand in this. He had been outraged at my audacity, but she was left in relative peace. He knew I had little left to keep me from my word. I would happily have met my true death to send him to his.
Felipe would die. Freyda would die. Ocella, thankfully, was dead.
Sometimes, I believe younger vampires do not fully understand the condition that is immortality. Freyda was an incomparable fool for following through with this ‘marriage.’ Felipe, a fool for not interceding when I requested. 100 years is a fair amount of time to plan revenge, and one as old as myself is not going to be broken by such time. I spent longer in my maker’s clutches, and not living in luxury, with an ample food supply nor with a fortune at my disposal. They were fools to believe I would accept the dominion over me with grace and forgiveness.
I am not a forgiving being in mundane circumstances, and they took me from her.
I set out at sunset, the very minute the contract ended.
Freyda had planned a party to commemorate our time together. Important vampires were attending. She had been busy planning and drawing contracts up to bind me to her for another 100 years. I made no effort to dissuade her from her plans, and she was confident I would remain.
After all, now I was no one.
I was not a sheriff, I was not a king, what was left for me but to continue as Royal Consort to the Queen? I let her believe I was content and willing. I hoped it would sting when her guest of honor was not present. I hoped it would further burn to know (as I’m sure the spy that would be sent after me would report) that my first move as a free vampire was to her side, alive or not.
Freyda did not understand, I had never been no one.
I flew to the little graveyard. It had taken most of the night. Dawn was only an hour away. I found her headstone easily. It was well tended, and had several pots of live flowers growing around it. I smiled. Sookie would like that, having living things surrounding her, even in her eternal rest, rather than a pretty arrangement that would fade quickly.
I reached out and touched one of the flowerless, leafy plants. A little wave of power and warmth traveled from it, up my fingertips, and into me. Startled, I reached out to touch it again. Nothing.
I stared at her modest stone effigy, as if willing it to give me a glimpse of the woman I had lost. Was it only the memory of her that gave me the little jolt? Did her magic remain here in some small way, just long enough to say goodbye to me?
Grief threatened to overwhelm me then.
I swallowed it. I had grieved for Sookie Stackhouse (I could never bring myself to think of her as Sookie Merlotte) enough.
I turned away from where she rested. The sky had gone from velvety black to a deep purple. I could feel the pull that would leave me dead for the day, and the urgency of my body demanding that I seek shelter. It had been more years than I could remember since I had slept in a graveyard. I was happy to do it this morning. It would be a stark contrast to the luxury and vulgarity I had been living with the last century. A fitting break from that hell. Primal.
I scanned my surroundings for a suitable place to go to ground, quite literally, for once.
Walking in my direction, was Sookie Stackhouse. Her eyes were on the ground and she was carrying a little bundle of gardening tools. Her golden curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She was humming to herself.
It wasn’t Sookie.
The tune was melodious, and calming. And… on key. This was her descendant.
She looked to be in her early twenties. Would that make her a granddaughter, or great-granddaughter?
I wanted to rush over to inspect her. I wanted to see her eyes. I wanted to see Sookie in her eyes. I wanted them to be the same color blue, and see the spark of magic and defiance in them.
Honestly, I simply wanted her to be Sookie. But… she was not, and the sky had lightened further from deep purple, to pink and violet. I needed to go to ground, quickly.
I rushed away from the Not-Sookie without looking back, and forced myself to dig as the lethargy of morning threatened to consume me. Soon, I was surrounded by darkness, and dead to the world.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters! Eric Northman and company are the property of Charlaine Harris and HBO and I gain nothing monetarily from this piece of fiction. The characters just whispered shocking things to me and made me take the BLD*SKR out for joyrides. I’m like their favourite aunt… or something… maybe… they like my cooking? No? … Eric, Pam, back me up… why- why are you looking at me like that? Fine, I bribe. I’m a briber. Happy?
…Stupid tattling vampires…