A/N - AU/OOC - What if Sookie only met Eric once and Bill was able to follow through and deliver her to the Queen. What happens years later when Sookie has full use of her Fae powers.
Rated M for acts of violence and possible lemons.

I do not own any of the characters from SVM. They belong to Mrs. Harris. I am only taking them out to play. This is my first fanfic please enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Ironworks

Scene 1 - SPOV - 'Not Really'

There was energy in the air this morning, anticipation hung and curled like wisps of heavy fog. No one else seemed to sense it, but I sure did. My whole being seemed to concentrate into little butterflies of excitement, something was coming. My introspection is interrupted when the bedroom door slams open and Andre stalks in.

"Hello my pet, how are you this eve, did you miss me?" Andre grabs the delicate chain that dangles from the collar at my throat and yanks me too him. Through the bond I can feel lust and hunger and possessiveness, at my shoulder I can feel his tongue then the slam of his fangs as he bites down, drawing my blood deeply. There is no gentleness, there is no care, and there is nothing but the sounds of an animal feeding. Finished, Andre licks the wounds once then steps back to admire his work, his hand still wrapped in the chain.

My shoulder aches, a familiar ache nothing new. The puncture wounds from this evening lay upon wounds of old a callous work of scars showing ownership. Looking straight ahead I say nothing, I have learned patience over the years, I wait for him to make the mistake I need, the opening that will lead to my freedom.

"Look at me my pet," Andre demands.

I ignore him, this is a game we play every night, he feeds then demands my obedience, I refuse and he punishes me. It is a pattern that keeps me sane, knowing that soon the pain is coming, the pain that tells me I am still alive, that I still have the will and the ability to refuse, that I have not let them win by stealing my soul.

"I said look at me!" Andre grabs my face with his free hand, jerking my eyes toward him. I refuse to look him in the eyes; instead I continue to look over his shoulder. Through the bond I can feel his rage, then I feel the coercion, the pressure of his will pouring down the bond to capitulate and obey him, the bond swirls with emotional promises, the fulfillment of all my desires if I just give in. I refuse, and then feel the slide of his mind against my own, more pressure to obey. My body is bombarded by sensations that command my obedience in all things. I stand strong, I do not yield. Andre snarls and throws me across the room to land against the iron foot board of a king sized bed.

Andre is there before I can move and tosses me to the center of the bed. He holds me down while he fastens the chain at my throat to a ring on the wall behind me. He then grabs chains from the head board and foot boards, attaching them to the bands that circle my wrists and ankles and ratchets them down until my arms and legs are pulled tight and I am stretched across the mattress my back barely touching it, my body held open and vulnerable. Andre pulls a knife from his boot and cuts the sleep T shirt I am wearing from my body, and then cuts away my bra and panties. The air is cool and my nipples draw in reaction, with a smirk Andre flicks the tip of one with the knife and draws blood.

"You will tell me what you see my pet, you will tell me what you hear. I command it, the Queen commands it. There are rumors afloat and you will tell me what we need to do to be prepared." During this speech Andre is running the knife slowly down my body slicing the skin lightly. The wound is not deep, it is just a warning but it stings and the blood flows freely. Deep within me anger begins to coil and writhe. My silence is rewarded by another slice, deeper, longer more painful, I refuse to answer. Another cut, and through the bond I can sense that Andre is fighting between enjoyment, lust and rage. He enjoys the pain he is causing, the smell of the blood, the feeling of power he holds over the helpless. I see his fangs are still down when he snarls at me to answer. I am silent, more cuts, more pain, a steady drizzle of blood trickles down my body to soak the mattress below.

An hour has passed; I am weak from blood loss but not dangerously low. Andre is an expert at what he does, my body is covered with cuts and bruises in a methodical pattern, and between my thighs more blood pools and the bruises are deeper and larger. I am still silent. Andre is growling with frustration as he paces the room at the foot of the bed. He is of average height with blond hair and green eyes. He was turned young maybe sixteen or seventeen years, his body well muscled. He may have been considered handsome if it wasn't for the malevolence that oozed from his presence. He was the personification of evil and through the blood bond between us I felt every ounce of it.

The door slams open and a woman strides in, she is small, beautiful. A curvaceous body with creamy apricot skin and deep auburn hair pinned in waves around her face. She moves with a feline grace, her body is as young as Andre's, her fangs show as she catches the scent of blood and stalks across the room to snarl at Andre.

"What have you found out, what does she say, when will they be here! Andre! What must we do?"

"I have found out nothing my Queen, she refuses to answer! I don't..."

I begin to laugh; Andre never has a chance to finish. I can feel them, I can hear them, there are dozens of unfamiliar voids around the perimeter, dozens of brains that snarl and froth, and there is a hum in the air, a hum of anticipation. I can feel the blood lust and it is not coming from this room. I tilt my head to see the two standing at the foot of my bed, a crazy smile draws my lips and I answer the question of the Queen.

"They are here, now, and tonight we will die." More laughter tinkles from my lips my soul dances with joy, death will find me, finally I will be free.

There is a clash from outside, the screaming begins. Andre and the Queen run out the door leaving me behind still chained to the bed covered in drying blood.

It seems like hours have passed and still the screaming goes on, bellows of rage and the smell of blood and war. I wait. There is a roar not far from my door and I feel triumph then fear through the bond, then for a moment, I feel nothing.

The bond rips open into a swirling black hole. The pain slams into me in a landslide, agony crawling along my nerve endings. I welcome it. I release myself to the maelstrom, my soul singing with joy as it swirls toward the gaping emptiness. Here was my freedom. Then the beast deep inside of me uncurls all the pain and rage that I have held onto so tightly, the stubborn refusal to break no matter the degradation. The beast pulls me back from the black depths, refusing the sacrifice my heart demands. The black hole pulls stronger demanding my death, the beast roars in denial and power begins to pool. Power slides through my body, tracing every puncture, every scar, every wound. My blood boils as the power burns away traces of him, of Andre. The blood bond begins to close, to dissipate, and to dissolve; once the bond ceases to exist the power gathered inside me is of no more use. I have no way of grounding it, not when I am bound. The power explodes from my body in waves of silver gold and blue. The iron manacles at wrist, ankle and throat burn and eat into my skin with the release. The room around me disintegrates and blackness pulls me under.

I awaken to the feel of someone running their hand down my cheek. I stiffen waiting for the knife. The hand continues to pet me, slowly running down my body following the cuts left from Andre. When pain does not follow I open my eyes in confusion, lifting them to meet the gaze of sapphire blue above me. A blonde eyebrow quirks upward, then the rest of the face pulls back allowing me to see in full who sits beside me. He is huge, even sitting he towers alongside of me. Silver blonde hair is braided and tied at his neck which is supported by the heavily muscled body of a warrior. His face is as chiseled as his body, masculine and one that commands attention. I try to listen to him, but I get nothing only a void, so he is vampire. Still watching him warily I reach out and listen for others. There are two other voids in the room and a large snarly brain. Just outside the door I can hear a human whimpering in pain.

The vampire next to me finishes tracing my wounds, lifting a bloody hand to his lips, tongue darting between his fangs to taste. Both eyebrows rise this time, and his other hand reaches up to grab my face, twisting and turning so that he can see my eyes clearly. The chain at my throat pulls tighter making it difficult to breath, and the beast within me begins to stir in response. Still holding me the vampire bends down and runs his tongue along one of the deepest cuts that blood still seeps from. Raising his face he stares at me again intently, then his mouth quirks up in a half smile and he speaks.

"Well aren't you sweet."

The words are nonsense to me at first, then dawning recognition of the phrase once spoken a decade ago. With that recognition comes a name to the face above me, Eric, Eric Northman, and memories threaten to overwhelm me. Power begins to pool again and the irises of my eyes begin to swirl. The smell of burning flesh in the room deepens, iron manacles glow and pulse.

Power rips from me in a scream of blue, surrounding him but unable to burn. It seethes and it shudders looking for a weakness, finding none. I gather it back to me, keening with pain as the iron burns deeper. A crazy grin stretches my face as I glare at him from eyes of solid blue. I answer him, as I answered him those years before.

"Not really."

The pain pulls me under and I embrace the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

Scene 2 - EPOV - 'Sweet Suprise'

The night is glorious, as if the gods themselves celebrate my upcoming victory. The night air is cool and crisp lit by a three quarter moon, star shine and the reflections of the city lights. I stop to reach and stretch a moment, settling the weight of the broadsword I wear across my back and shoulders. The blade is familiar, heavy and a comfort, I itch to feel the heft of it in my hand and my blood lust rises. Behind me others gather they make no sound, not a wisp of breath floats in the air or the beat of a labored heart from their running. I can feel my child approach as she moves to my right, stopping at my shoulder.

"All is ready Master," she speaks so softly no human would hear.

I nod, "Thank you Pam." Then I hold a hand up to the others, signaling that they are not to move, not to follow as I glide forward into the night. The Palace is spread before me guards walk the fence line; I take a quick breath to capture their scent and recognize the two - natured. They would be of no consequence; it was vampire that I sought the location of. Again I scan the faint breeze and identify what I search for. Two vampires stand at the furthest doorway, two more pairs are hidden near the gate and a fourth pair is leaning on the balcony of the second floor. My spies within have told me the numbers I will face, I do not fear the loss of battle, I scout only to add detail to a strategy that will minimize the loss of my own people and maximize the capture of those of worth from within.

I have tolerated the abuse of Sophie-Anne's minions over the years with barely a growl. I have been content to let her do as she pleases as long as it did not impact my own lifestyle or those that I protected. I had no ambition to rule other than my own area, to care for anything other than my own pleasure. But now the human government is involved, putting pressure on the American Vampire League to discover why so many humans in Shreveport and Bon Temps have been murdered or just plain disappeared. The were packs in the area are also showing stages of discontent, they have lost several of their best fighters while guarding the Queen's favorite toy, the human Telepath. The last confrontation was rumored to have been an attack by the Fae and dozens died in the bloody battle.

That was the last straw for me; I was not going to lose any of my people in a Fairy War brought upon by a childish brat of a Queen. I was not going to see my businesses under constant surveillance and pressure by humans. I was not going to lose my freedom to do as I please.

It was time. I moved back to the head of my army, pulling my sword from my back, laughing silently as the power and blood lust flowed through me. A Viking war cry is torn from my throat as I fly over the gate to attack the two vampires at the door way. My child is taking care of another pair and my army flows through, attacking all the rest.

We burst through the door way, I swing my sword freely, heads roll and blood flies, ash begins to float in the air. I make my way to the throne room with Pam, Rasul and the were tiger Quinn at my back. Rasul has been my eyes and ears here, the one who has informed me of the Queen's antics. I know of the telepath, I know of her bond with Andre and I am counting on his death to kill two birds with one stone. She is human, she will not survive the bonds severing, and his death will pull her with him. While I mourn the loss of such a valuable asset, her life has proven to be more of a liability to my people than her worth. Sophie-Anne will be allowed to live, to face trial among her peers and to see her lands stripped and given over to me, the new King.

Our way is blocked by two large vampire, they are the Queens body guards, Wybert and Sigebert. They are old, strong and extremely powerful, but they are no match for me. Wybert's head is the first to fly soon followed by Sigebert and the path to the Queen is clear. I stride through with confidence, all that I see before me is a cowering human in a doorway in the corner and Andre with Sophie-Anne crouched snarling defensively weapons in hand. I dismiss the human, believing her to be the telepathic pet and move to confront Andre knowing he is the more dangerous of the two vampires. Pam and Rasul can handle the Queen, and the tiger will keep others from coming in the door.

The battle between Andre and I is long and fierce, blood flows freely and I thrill to the give and take of blade upon blade, our bodies dancing in patterns and forms that have not been taught in centuries. Andre is tiring and I watch him closely for weakness, he really is no threat to me it is only for the joy of battle that I have let him survive this long. A cry of pain from my child catches me unaware and my attention is pulled from my enemy for a split second. Andre lunges, scenting victory near but he is not fast enough and my blade removes his head from his shoulders.

The moment my blade clears Andre's shoulders there is a banshee scream from the back room followed swiftly by an explosion of light that slams back the crouching human and a vibration that shakes the very foundation of the palace. Debris falls from the ceiling, the walls begin to crack and dust combined with the scent of burning flesh and blood roils from the broken and glowing doorway.

The rest of my retinue arrives and I have Chow and Thalia bind Sophie-Anne with silver then move her to the back of the room. Rasul strides toward the pulsing light beckoning me to follow. I grab his arm to stop him, demanding that he explain what the hell happened.

"The telepath is in there Eric that was her power we felt, or at least I think that was her power. I have sensed it before when Andre has pushed her into retaliation, but never with such force." He pulls free of my grasp and I trail after him in confusion. I stop him again before he crosses the threshold, pointing to the unconscious human that now lay across the room.

"I thought she was the telepath Rasul?"

"No Eric, that is one of the Queens pet, a human she enjoys feeding from the moment she rises, this is where they keep the Telepath, they dared not allow her out of this room."

Pam follows as the three of us enter what was left of a bedroom. It looks like a hurricane had blown through, flowered wall paper is shredded and dangling from the walls, and furniture is tossed about most of it broken and in pieces. The wall lamps dangle from wire threads and a strong scent of blood and burning flesh teases my nostrils, the snick of fangs echo in the room along with the sound of a heart beat and labored breathing. Rasul points to the lone piece of furniture that still stands, though even it has not escaped damage. The iron wrought framework is twisted and buckled, and oddly glowing. I pause and take a longer look around the room, finally seeing what has been teasing my eyes. There was iron everywhere, the bed, the lamps, the ceilings support even the doorway was lined with iron, and all of it held the glow of cooling metal.

My attention is drawn back to the bed as I hear a skip in the heartbeat and it becomes weaker, I approach and it is Pam who is the one to give voice to what we see.

"Oh my gods, she is still alive after all of that? What the hell is she?"

What is she indeed? Hanging from chains, barely supported by the twisted bed beneath her is the naked body of a woman. Her form is small and gloriously rounded her hair a match in color to my own, tangled and bloody around her and over her face, its final length possibly to her waist. All of that is minor though in comparison to the wounds and bruises that cover her body and the amount of blood that pools beneath her, the scent delicious and familiar enough to tease. The iron that binds her arms legs and throat still glows and the scent of her burned flesh floats freely. She is unconscious, and I sit next to her, reaching to push the hair from her face as I examine her wounds. Something about her is prodding at my memory. It is obvious that she has been tortured, and it is more than obvious that this is not the first time. Hundreds of fine scars cover her body like a road map. Each one precise in design, a design serving to draw attention to the areas where no knife has touched, only fangs. Her neck, her shoulders, her breasts and her inner thighs are free from knife wounds, but not free of scars. It is beautifully obscene and something no mere human should have survived, even with vampire blood healing her.

I lean over her to draw in her scent, seeking to identify what is so familiar while my hand traces a wound on her face. She stirs and opens eyes of icy blue, staring at me without comprehension then with wariness. I move back bringing my fingers to my lips, anxious to taste her blood upon them. I cannot believe it, so sweet yet I cannot identify what is so tantalizing. Most of her wounds are no longer bleeding, many of the smaller have begun to scab, I move back over her choosing one of the deepest slices that still remain oozing blood, reluctant to see it scar and run my tongue over the incision gathering more of her sweet blood. Again, a hint of familiarity though I cannot catalog exactly what makes up her flavor. I glance up at the telepath when she moans in pain, something about the angle of her face, the formation of her nose and eyes calls out to me again; I reach and pull her head to a better position, ignoring the chains that bind her. She glares at me, her eyes screaming disgust and hatred. Briefly a frown of concentration takes her over, and that little face is all I need to identify where I have met her before. I smirk at her and drawl.

"Well aren't you sweet"

This is the human that Bill Compton had brought before me a decade ago, asking about some fang bangers in my club Fangtasia. She had caught my eye then, a glowing light amongst the dregs of humanity. I had watched her, tried to glamor her to irritate Compton. When she refused to answer to my commands I became more intrigued and summoned Compton to me. Compton reluctantly brought the girl forward to my throne where Pam leaned at my side. Conversation ensued between the three of us. The human parried my jabs at her easily, only showing a slight hint of fear towards me, though more than a bit of impatience toward Compton. I answered her questions, refusing to let her leave right away. It was soon after the refusal that I caught this familiar frown of concentration on her face, right before she announced accurately a police raid on my bar. She was convincing enough that I grabbed her and dragged her outside of the bar along with Pam and Compton, I never saw or heard from the human or Compton again, until now.

The Telepaths eyes are swirling, I can feel their pull, the smell of burning flesh increases with the glow of iron. Power pours forth from her to surround me. I am bombarded, images stream through my mind, this woman defying Andre and Sophie-Ann, I see every moment of her torment, I see her refuse to break. Her power runs over me without harming me, odd, I do not think that was her intention, then sheds away racing back towards her. Eyes of pure blue spew hatred, a keening wail rips free when the power slams back into her, she writhes between the chains as they burn until she collapses to dangle between them. Her heart still beats weakly as she answers me.

"Not really"

I yell at Rasul to call Doctor Ludwig and have Pam come forward to help me release the telepath. Though it still pulses the iron is cold to our touch and I pull her free to cradle in my arms. The weight of her body is so slight for one with such a strong will. Pam studies the telepath closely, restraining herself from biting though her fangs are still down.

"I know her Master; she has been to Fangtasia before."

I nod to Pam in agreement, still holding the human I move to leave the room of iron behind, such a shame so much blood wasted. The tiger grabs a cloth from one of the shattered tables while motioning at me to cover the telepath, I grunt then allow him to wrap her in my arms though I have no use for modesty. We enter the throne room and I lay the telepath down on one of the many pillows. The Queen begins to growl pulling against Chow and Thalia when she sees who I have just deposited.

Ignoring Sophie-Anne I turn to Pam and demand of her, "If you remember her name, then tell me." I am still debating whether or not I should kill the woman. This telepath had caused enough trouble. Yet the vision I had received while she attacked me was holding me back. She was a warrior, what she had survived was worthy of my respect and perhaps it was her handling by her Masters that created the liabilities, not the telepath herself. It would be in my best interest to retain all assets in this state if at all possible, the telepath was one of the greatest. During my contemplation I realize that Pam had yet to answer me; instead she was staring at me in disbelief. I growl at her.

"Master, you do not remember her? Eric, this is Sookie Stackhouse, Nialls Great-Granddaughter."


A/N I am currently working on further chapters and will continue if there is interest.