A/N: I have been wanting to write this since the second season, and finally decided to get crackin' on it. This is in Godric's POV.
To Wait No More
He fought with such fury; as if there was no one waiting for him to come home with warm bread and a small bit of money, so it didn't matter if he lived or died. He protected his men more than his own self. He jumped in front of blades that would have sunk into the hearts of his warriors and blocked them with his metal shield. He growled as he stuck his sword into the bodies of his enemies, not bothering to see if they hit the ground dead, for he knew that his stab was sufficient to end any remnant of life. He moved across the battlefield as if he were dancing, not once getting slashed, for he was always too fast.
I have been waiting for him for centuries.
His men cried out his name countless times – Eric. Such an ordinary name for an extraordinary man. His shoulder-length hair was the color of dirty straw; I idly wondered if it smelled of the blood of his rivals and of the earth. His large muscles pulsed upon impact. His body was so alive that it made me ache; not to kill him, but for him to be at my side until the end of time.
He moved gracefully across the field, further and further away from the shadow that kept me concealed in the darkness. I panicked; I could not be seen by anyone – Eric's men or his enemies – else I'd have to kill all of them except for my prize. I scanned the grounds and spotted a small thicket nearby. Crouching down, I bolted to the small gathering of wilderness, and hid myself behind it.
I was so close to him now. The scent of his blood stood out like a ruby would in a pile of rocks. The other men smelled feeble and selfish; their blood thin and cold as the earth. Eric's blood was other-worldly compared to his comrades and assailants. His blood was sweet and thick like honey, but also musky and feral.
That precious blood would soon mix with mine and become one source.
Dead bodies littered the wasted ground. He was getting tired; he had been fighting for hours. I wanted to be at his side, protecting him, moving fast for him now that he had slowed. But I could not be with him. Not yet.
The twinkling navy sky was turning a beautiful, yet threatening periwinkle.
I will come back for him tomorrow to give him the priceless gift of new life.
I dug at the earth, creating a shallow hole of solitude to rest in while the sun was up. I crawled into the ground and covered myself up with the dirt like a thick winter blanket would cover a small child.
My mind was filled with my beautiful Eric before I drifted into a silent slumber.
My wait was over.
I found him.
My excitement could hardly be contained within my lithe body.
There were three of them; Eric, and two of his men. They were completely secluded, far from the battlegrounds so they could rest safely. Eric was wounded in battle; I could smell his blood drying on his weakened body.
He couldn't die. I waited too long to let him slip through my fingers as if he were water.
His two men... they would have to die. They were fierce warriors and even fiercer friends to my beloved. They would protect him, risking their own lives for his.
They wouldn't be murdered. Instead, they were to be sacrificed.
They could sense me coming. They could see my pace in the swaying of the leaves of the trees and in the dying grass; see my luminous skin separate the shadows of the night, but they never once saw my determined face. I latched onto the skin of their necks, ripping out their throats and central veins swiftly so that they were dead before they hit the cold earth.
And there he was.
He, who I've been waiting on for many centuries.
I lowered myself to him. He did not look frightened, but instead, curious. I studied him like a young child would a butterfly. He was altogether glorious. Perfect. Made for me to adore and treasure him.
His fixed stare did not back down. He was proud right down to the fiber of his being. "Are you Death?" His voice was as savory as the red fluid flowing through his veins.
The blood of his comrades dripped freely from my mouth and down my neck. I refused to take their blood in my mouth, for I did not want it to contaminate the precious blood I would soon feast on. "I am."
"But you're just a little boy," he whispered with a hint of disbelief. He was not expecting Death to be small, like an inadequate man he could take down in battle with one strike.
I shook my head, marveling at his comment. "I'm not." My voice was soft and my smile was kind.
"My men..." Eric glanced over to where they lay.
"You swine." He sounded so weak.
I could not feel sorry about killing his men; soon, he would forget all about them. I smiled and paid him a compliment, "I watched you on the battlefield last night. I never saw anyone fight like you." And it was true. He was the only strong, able, and selfless warrior I've seen for many centuries.
His gaze fell upon me again, not looking at all thankful for my words. "I would fight you now if I could."
And I laughed, not because he was foolish for thinking he could fight me, but because I was filled with joy that we were finally together. That he was it. "I know." The wood from the fire popped and I could feel the breeze on my bloody fangs. I whispered to him, "It's beautiful."
He stared at me; his body was still except for his chapped lips that parted to say, "What are you waiting for? Kill me." It was an invitation, but not near a plead for death.
This was it.
What words would be worthy of my prize? How could my offer in all its divinity be fitting of something so precious. I fidgeted with anticipation of his response and asked, "Could you be a companion of Death?" Is this nervousness, what I'm feeling? "Could you walk with me through the world... though the dark? I'll teach you all I know." I looked at him – my Eric – and I could almost feel my wasted heart beating as if I were alive again. "I'll be your father, your brother, your child."
He considered my proposal. "What's in it for me?"
My smile was wide. "What you love most," I promised. "Life."
"Life." His gentle voice embraced my soul.
I sunk my fangs into his skin. Out of my thousand year life, his blood on my tongue was the best I've ever had the pleasure to taste. His thick red fluid flowed down my throat, warming my body to its very core and making what spirit I still possessed leap with joy. His groans of pain were few and eventually subsided.
When I had almost drained him of all his blood, Eric shut his eyes softly and a small, sweet sound escaped his lips. I pulled away from his two small puncture wounds and bit into my own flesh. I held the back of Eric's head and brought my bleeding wrist to his lips. He drank from me as if he had been lost in a desert for a hundred years. His tongue licked gratefully at my puncture marks and hollowed his cheeks to suck up the blood.
I lost my fingers in his hair and stroked his scalp tenderly as he swallowed my blood. I gazed upon my child and made a covenant with him, "Every day I have blood in my veins, thoughts in my head, and a spirit in my bod, I will be yours."
Eric met my gaze; his eyes were hopeful... happy.
"And you will be mine."