Where I Keep My Heart: An Illumination

by Udonwnaknow1

Summary:

The High Middle Ages was a less than desirable time to be in London, but Eric would take the smell a thousand times over if it meant not having to spend one more moment in the woods.

But with society comes people, and with people comes danger.

Perhaps the wilderness would have been a better choice.

Notes:

Hi and welcome, I hope anyone reading this has checked the tags first. Either way, there is nothing explicit here, but there are allusions to child abuse along with rape and non con. Very kindly make sure that that is something you are comfortable reading, thanks for your time and have fun.

Chapter 1: One

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.

Chapter 2: Two

When Eric woke and made his way out of the trunk he and Godric shared for the day, the first thing he noticed was a low, warm light filling the room; the second was the stillness in the air and the absence of his maker, and the third was the claw of panic that shot through his body at this realization

His maker was missing; his maker was gone.

Godric was gone and he was alone, he was all alone again and Godric was dead and the past year had been nothing but a fever dream and soon he would wake up to Pam banging on the door of his apartment and the world would go back to being dark and gray and oh god, Godric was gone.

If Eric had been human, his heart would have been beating out of his chest, his breathing would have picked up and his body would have been trembling. Instead, he felt his knees buckle and hit the floor as bloody tears made their way out of his eyes to run red tracks down his cheeks, one hand coming up to grip and pull at his hair, the pain a grounding force.

There was a crash as the door to the little flat went flying off its hinges, shards of wood splintering and raining down around the space like so many sharp projectiles, and Eric was too far gone in the panic of his mind to register the person behind the destruction or, in truth, the destruction itself.

Eric’s heart and mind called for his maker; a good thing then that the very blood that ran through Eric’s veins sang to Godric and pulled him relentlessly back to the origin of the disquiet that grew, there was no force on this earth that could stand in the way of Godric and his childe, including doors; his childes incredibly worrisome response to his absence an issue to be dealt with at a later date.

There was a calm that came over Godric, a stillness that he had not expected when he had forced his way through the door and into the room that his childe was in. Yes, he had been a maker for some time now and yes, he had come across other young of his kind, but was still so much to learn, so much growth that had to happen and most of the time Godric felt as if he was floundering, grasping for the correct response, the best way to be the maker that Eric needed.

There where worlds, eons of learning that he still had to go through, and Godric often thought that there would never be a time that he was satisfied with himself. How could he be; how could he ever think that he had become what Eric needed while Eric himself would always be growing and while he thought that he had been doing quite well, Godric was not in the habit of lying to himself.

Finding his childe in the middle of a breakdown was not something that he had been prepared for, but it seemed to be something that he was ready for.

With sharp strides Godric made his way across the room, teeth already tearing into his own arm as he dropped down next to his childe and forced him into an embrace, not yet bothering with words, simply placing the weeping wound in front of his childe's mouth and trusting Eric’s instincts to take over.

There was a breath of space where nothing happened, just the continued mutterings and tears, long enough for a shadow of worry to start attempting to take hold in Godric’s heart, before his childe leaned into him, and Godric felt himself relax as suckling on his arm started.

He curled closer over his childe’s body, the urge to sooth and calm, to protect, a force within him stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

Eric was his childe, his progeny, his world. A thousand years walking this earth and it wasn’t until a stubborn, loud, bratty Viking prince came into his life and turned his world upside down that he started to actually live.

His childe shifted in his arm and Godric tightened them in response, soft words leaving his mouth, a litany of attempted comfort. When it seemed like the words themselves where not enough, Godric started to sing, is body slowly rocking. There was a song that his human mother used to hum, when she would lay him down on his furs for the night. A tale that was passed down, mother to child, and Godric had long thought that all memory of it was gone from his mind.

But here he was, singing it to his childe, the words all in a language long since dead.

In early morning, when the world was shifting from the domain of the unspoken to that of the living, Godric could sometimes admit to himself that he missed his language, his people. His home.

It has been so long since he was anywhere near it, near the land of his childhood, the quiet fear of perhaps not being able to find his way back keeping him from searching it out.

But that was not important now, right now his world was Eric, and his world needed him; all other things could wait.

Later, when he had his childe calm and aware, they would talk. But for now, the tension slowly slipping from his childe’s body was enough for Godric.

 

 

#

 

 

 

Eric sat across from his maker; a candle lit on the old wood table bathing the room in flickering shadow. There was a tension in the air, one that had hung there since his maker had blasted through the door to find him falling apart.

The owner of their flat would not be impressed with the damage, but Eric was confident that a little glamour would take care of that issue; what was the point of power if you did not use it.

His maker looked worried, well, as worried as Godric ever looked; a slight dip to one eyebrow, a couple fingers pressing just a little too hard into the table, promoting the wood to split a fraction.

There was so much that Eric wanted to share, so many years of love and pain and memory. But where would he even start? Hi Godric, I know that you turned me a year ago but actually I’ve been your childe for over a thousand and I missed you so much that a demented witch felt bad for me and sent my mind back in time?

Well, actually…

No, that was ridiculous. Yes, he and his maker where close, closer this time around at this point than the last, but his story was far to strange, to fantastical. His maker would think him crazy. No, his best bet would be to wait it out, make up something if need be and let his maker’s speculation and imagination take care of the rest.

Plus, he still needed his maker to tell him about the stranger from the night before, and Godric wouldn’t do that if he thought Eric was off his rocker.

Eric coughed, an action meant to get his maker’s attention, unneeded since Godric had barely let him out of his sight since he had come home. He smiled, a small humorless thing, and watched Godric’s face for any change. There was none.

Godric just kept looking at him, eyes piercing in their intensity and Eric wondered if perhaps today would be the first time in history that a look burned someone.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his maker spoke, voice soft but no less clear. “I know that there is something that you have been keeping from me childe, something that haunts you in the day while you sleep.”

Eric blinked. Godric steepled his fingers, leaned forward, and continued, “I do not, however, demand that you tell me. I do request that when the time feels right, you share it with me. I cannot protect you from something I do not know of.”

It took a moment for the meaning behind the words to trickle their way into Eric’s head, and then another full moment he was able to summon up a response. By that time however, his maker had already moved onto the next item on his agenda list, so Eric found himself having to contend with his mild freak out on his own.

He had not, precisely, forgotten how perceptive his maker was, he had simply forgotten to take that into account. Of course his maker knew something was off; in the first go round, at this point in their relationship, his maker would have demanded a response, a reason for his episode. This time he was content to wait on Eric to come to him, trusting that he would do so when he was ready.

The real question was, what was the change here, or really, who was the change here. It hurt Eric’s heart a little to think that it was him, that the potential for their bond had been so very strong from the get-go and that it had only been him and his anger that had kept it growing stagnant.

But hindsight was twenty-twenty, and he had a second chance here, and he would do it right this time. He would make sure that Godric knew how much he loved him, how much he needed him.

There was a pat to his arm and Eric started, realizing that his make had been calling his name, Godric gave him a look, one that was filled with so much worry and warmth that Eric would have blushed if had been able to.

“Childe, I would like to share some things with you, give you a small explanation of the exchange that occurred this last night's past. And then I am going to give you a choice.” There was another pat on his arm, then, “But I am worried that you are not, at this moment, in the correct set of mind to hear me. I am hesitant to push this off for too long a time, but if you should wish to converse once more, after you have had a full day’s sleep, that we could do.”

There was a hint of amusement in Godric’s eye’s now, a twist of a smile on his lips as he watched his childe shoot straight up in his chair, face lighting up at his maker’s words.

There would be no pushing off of this talk now, and Godric felt a twist of unease in his stomach. Ah well, no way past but forward.

“I’m fine Godric, just… thinking. But I’m fine, let’s talk now.”

There was a creak as Godric shifted in his chair, leaning back and away from Eric, and Eric was secure enough as a person to admit that he missed the fingers that had been gently running up and down his arm.

Godric nodded, very well, then let us begin. There was another second or two of silence as Godric put his thoughts together, and then he began. “I have told you, I think, that before I was turned, I was born to a small village in the west, near the water. My human life was ordinary for the time; I was a young man who did the things that young men do. I learned to hunt and fish with my father, to cook and mend with my mother, and to fight with my sisters and brothers.

I did not spend much time as a human, and so my memories of my first home and life are vague and dim, I do know that I had a family. I know that I was happy.”

Eric was scared to move, just in case that caused Godric to stop talking. In all the time that he had known his maker, this was the most that he had ever learned about his human life.

“My memories clear at the point that my story truly, begins.” Godric paused and looked his childe in the eye, continuing, “I will tell you these things once, and only once. If you do not pay attention and miss something, I will not repeat it. I will talk, you will listen, should you interrupt me I will ignore it, once we are done, I will not speak of this to you again. Do you understand me?”

Eyes wide, jaw clenched shut, Eric nodded. It was about fucking time.

 

 

#

 

 

“I was born into a time filled with unrest and disquiet. Julius Caesar was the ruling power in Rome, and life was changing for all at a rapid pace. My people where fishermen, country folk, but do not confuse that with the thought that we were not fighters.

I was young when they came, too small to properly hold up the sword in my hand, the one that my mother had thrown me right before she was dragged off. I do not know to where, but I do know that the last time I ever saw any of my human family was that day.

I was shackled to another, all of us in one long line, and we were made to walk back to the capitol, to the marketplace in Rome. There were many in the line, all from my village, most of whom did not survive the journey.

I was sold to a man, a rich one, he took me to his home. There I was cleaned and made comfortable, he let me sleep in a real bed and fed me richer foods then I had ever knew existed.

The man continued this treatment for as long as it took me to heal from my trip, to feel comfortable. Then he revealed his true self and my life did not know peace for a very long time.

My master’s name was Appius and he was an ancient vampire, a noble by both birth and maker, and revered in our world. He was also cruel beyond measure.

He was the leader of a group of nobles, and together they owned the old world. They had their finger in every profitable pocket, their voice in every ruler’s ear. They could do whatever they wanted, and they did.

The war was nothing but fun for them and they relished in the havoc and pain they caused.

The slave traders knew to save the pretty ones for them.

My master made very clear to me what I was to him, and that was my life for many years. There were others, more than I can count or remember, but most were dead by the nights end. I was not so lucky.

We were nothing more than toys, and so were treated as such. My body was not my own, my life was not my own and my will was his or it was nothing. I was branded and beaten to match his image, to fill his fantasy, and that was a roll that I excelled at.

You see, after some time I came to learn that my master was looking for childe. His first had left him already and he wanted a new life to shape. With this knowledge I came to a decision, I would be the one he chose.

Appius had made a grave mistake when he kept me, when he let me listen in to what he and his Ring spoke of. He had given me just enough freedom to hope for something, and just enough hope to fight. And fight I would.

It took a few more years before he turned me, grabbed me as I slept in the night, draining me with no more than a word to silence me.

More years passed as he trained me, shaped me into the perfect solder for him, and all this time I was still passed between his Ring member’s, still treated as a thing.

By the time I was ready, the war had long finished, and Rome was filled with peace, a fact that did not sit well with the Ring.

We were in the process of packing up and moving when I struck, waiting till a night that I knew my maker would be alone. I nearly died that night, and if I had I would have had no regrets, as long as I took him with me.

You know, as I have taught you, that the murder of another of our kind is against our laws; it does not matter the reason why. And as my maker was considered something more than noble, a king almost, my crime was even graver.

I had to flee to for my life, to stay away from civilization. My only regret this long time, is that I was not able to take the life of the others in the Ring.

It had been over a thousand years, but as you can see from our meeting last night, they did not forget.

And neither did I.”

 

 

 

#

 

 

The candle on the table sputtered as the wick hit the melted wax, and the sound seemed to break the light trance that had taken Eric over as his make told his story.

Eric felt his body jolt as the sound and smell of the world came rushing back into his senses, but his mind was still doing somersaults.

He had known that his maker had a checkered past, that there was a darkness that haunted the edges of his maker’s life, a shadow that could never be out run.

Eric knew that his maker had not always been this ancient master vampire before him, but it was hard for him to imagine his make to ever be a small and helpless child. Not helpless a voice in the back of his mind whispered; strong and smart; patient and resourceful as he had bided his time.

There was another burst of affection in his chest as he looked at his maker, as he took in the smooth expression on Godric’s face, the way that he was so carefully keeping himself from expressing anything, blissfully unaware that his childe could read him like a book regardless.

Eric had never thought he could be prouder to be Godric’s childe; it stood to reason that his maker would be the one to make that untrue.

 

 

#

 

 

There was a lightening in the sky along with a pull in Godric’s mind that spoke of the sun’s imminent arrival, and he knew that it was far past time for his childe to be in bed.

He may be a vampire but lugging around a Viking sized body was still not a desirable chore.

This night and had been long and tearing open the old wounds of his past had been exhausting, there was little Godric wanted in this world at the moment other than sleep, but there was one more thing that had to happen before the two of them could retire for the day.

“Childe.”

Eric turned at the soft voice, nodding at his maker to show his attention, feeling a warmth in his chest as he was rewarded with a smile.

“The Ring will come for me, now that they know I still live, and by extension, they will come for you.”

The next words where hard to say, seeming to get stuck in his throat when he went to open his mouth, but they had to be shared. He would never blindly put his childe into a position that he could be hurt, now without giving him a choice. He would never allow himself to be anything like Appius.

“You are still young, but you are strong and smart. Should you desire, I will release you, and you may leave, free to live your life far away from myself and the mess that I shall soon be in.”

Godric had expected his childe to give his words a moment of thought, to mull his options over, and while he had hoped that Eric would choose to stay with him, he would have not begrudged him the right to live his life in peace.

What he had not expected however, was for his childe to shoot him the most enraged look he had ever seen, followed by a shout of outrage that was followed by its own monologue of anger fueled vitriol.

Once the shouting had died down, Eric took his maker’s hand in his own, and looked him right in the eye.

He wanted his maker to very clearly understand what he was about to say, and he cleared his throat at Godric’s amused smile.

“You are my maker; you are all I need in this world and I refuse to ever lose you. If there is an obstacle in your path, then I will always be there to help you past it.” Eric squeezed the hand he held just a small bit tighter.

“Please do not ever ask me to leave your side again, I do not think I could live with the pain.”

There was a tugging and then one of the small hands he had been cradling tugged itself out of his hold and settled in his hair, fingers softly running through the strands.

There was an edge to Godric’s voice as he spoke next, and Eric knew that there was something lurking behind it, something big and dangerous. The grip in his hair grew tighter by a fraction, and Eric held in a wince, body tensing. His maker was an amalgamation of opposites, soft and strong, kind and cruel, aura sometimes old as the earth, and other times as young as a freshly bloomed flower. But through it all, there was something that never changed. And that was dangerous.

It radiated of his maker in droves, and while Eric was never afraid, he was always aware. As he was now.

“There is something that you have been keeping from me, something that has been eating away at you since the moment you first laid eyes on me, and I have allowed you to keep your secret, for it is yours, and as such yours to share. But there will come a time that when you are no longer able to keep it, and I would very much so like for that to be far before it becomes a danger.”

The look in Godric’s eye softened once more, along with the grip in his childe’s hair, “I will however continue to respect your choice to keep it, along with your choice to stay with me-” his look softened further, “-and I will not pretend that your decision does not bring me joy.”

Godric released his childe’s hair and ran a hand softly down the plane of Eric’s cheek. The sun would be fully up soon, and they would need to get a day of sleep before the chaos that would soon take over both their lives.

“Come now, it is far beyond the time for rest.”

Eric stood and grabbed his maker’s hand, a move that Godric chose not to comment on. Yes, there was something that his childe was keeping from him, something that would have to be spoken about, but there would hopefully be more than enough time for that conversation to take place.

Right now, his childe was in his arms, safe, and more than halfway into sleep. Tomorrow their world would narrow down into the simplicity and fire that was fight and survive. All else would have to wait.

Notes:

Okey dokey, here we have the next bit, complete with what looks like an actual plot starting. Don't worry, I'm just as surprised as you. As of now, I have no idea how many instalments this will have, but I do know that it will be as many as I need to tell my story. Side note, it is incredibly hard to find female names circa 500 BC, just letting you know. As always, have fun and enjoy, and should you find any typos that enrage you, let me know.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of In Your Memories Is Where I Make My Home