He stopped in the doorway.
Godric, who had not, to Eric's knowledge, ever been snuck up on by anyone, didn't seem to notice his presence. Eric found it intriguing.
He crossed the room silently and stood behind his Maker, looking over his shoulder at the notebook sitting before him. It was blank.
"I left it too long, Eric," Godric said, very quietly. He was apparently aware of his progeny after all.
"Left what?" Eric asked. Something in the elder vampire's tone made him uneasy.
"I meant to leave a record of my mother tongue," Godric explained. "There were not many scholars outside of the walls of Rome. It is not documented anywhere else."
Eric waited patiently for the rest of the explanation. He wanted to reach out to him, but Godric's sudden fragility warned him away.
"I have no recollection of it at all." The words seemed to be ripped from some place deep that Godric had never intended Eric to see. He smiled humourlessly, completely at a loss to express the ache in his heart. "I suppose I was naive to think that it would always be with me. I haven't spoken it in millennia. There was no one left with whom to speak."
Eric realized that he had never asked Godric about his native tongue. It had never occurred to him, so fluent was his Maker in the Old Norse Eric learned at his mother's knee.
"I am sorry," Eric said, and he meant it.
Godric understood. His smile was bittersweet. "So am I."
A/N - Okay, teeny tiny book reference here, from the part where Sookie thinks about how lonely it must be when no one speaks your language anymore. But otherwise I tend to ignore the existence of book-God(ric/frey).