Title: In Times Before the Sun

Type: Preslash, FlashBack, Friendship, Romance

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: True Blood [Showverse]

Pairing: Godric/Eric Northman

Setting: Directly after Season 2 Episode 5 "Never Let Me Go" (Godric/Eric flashback timeline)

Word Count: 1379

Summary: A new Sun has risen and fallen since Eric's supernatural death at Godric's hands, and now he awakens to a life that he soon learns is not a life at all. These are Eric's first waking moments as Death, his childlike, demonic maker waiting patiently at the side of his naked body, keen to begin their journey into the coming centuries as dark companions. It seems however, that fate has brought the two together, as so quickly in death they share an unlikely, loving affinity.

Warnings: Obviously, spoilers may become an issue in this series, so consider this a warning to those who have not seen Season 2 Episode 5 "Never Let Me Go", or any others thereafter. Other than that, PG-13 rating is for slight references to nudity and death, just to be on the safe side, although no content is graphic or crude. This is a co-write, so please keep this in mind when reading. Eric is written by VarrosGirly, and Godric by Jaxon666. Comments always welcome, but do not be rude because well, we bite back and you won't like it. Thanks!

Author's Notes: This short was written as a test to see if I and my writing partner could play the characters well, and capture the chemistry believably. Since writing it we deemed the project successful, and have gone ahead to write further chapters which will be beta's and posted soon. The series will feature Godric and Eric's relationship through the ages, and how they change, along with it and the times.

Eric noted the smell first. He was used to scents, those of fires, the sea, the forest. The small boy of death had come to him in the dark as he laid dying, but it was now night again. Eric sat up, recognizing a pleasant, natural scent, fragrant as an oil, coming from his own skin, which evidently was bare.

"You made me new. I laid upon a pyre last night, yet I have no wounds in this one. How is this?" Eric had known the small one was there before he saw him. He had felt him, and he was amazed, even if not apparent in his expression yet.

He felt healthy, and he felt hungry. There should be mutton, or mead, that this one would have prepared for him, should there not? How else could he keep his newfound strength?

As soon as the pallid dead eyes once closed became open, though still as dead, revealing two glowing kisses from the witches of Winter, Godric found them as keenly as the jaw of a lion did the fresh meat of a deer. He hovered, lunged over the Viking with a projected torso, though his knees remained bent and pliable; no sound even made by the sudden feat that had positioned him over Eric, sniffing at him vaguely in a way akin to the shrewdest and most disarming of predators.

"Now new and to be old." Godric insisted with the face of a boy and the tangible nature of something wild and unexplained, his mannerisms both barbaric and simian, yet with no cause for Eric to know fear of it.

"You forget not how to know your courage-" he began, placing his fingers firmly against the warrior's chest, tapping the center heavily "-but another thing happens when thinking of words most new. No drum to summon your bravery. No matter of this when my voice now blesses you with all there is to teach. Forever and until the last death."

The boy was deadly, but Eric did not fear him. He had not feared him upon their first meeting, and he knew of no need to.

"To be old," he repeated, examining the boy's eyes before looking to his markings. They were unlike any he recognized.

"What am I to learn? This is no repaired wound," Eric touched his chest, "And you are no child." He was like nothing the Viking had even been told as a fireside tale, but Eric was as him. How, was unknown, as too why he knew this. "I hunger...I hear animals in their steps, they may not be far."

"No child. Still, you are a man, and yet to me, my childe, and today your first as what you have become." Godric's voice slightly lilted with pride and titillation as his body slowly twitched and rocked in a way that resembled wildlife, more than anything similar to humanity. His kindness towards Eric poured forth with no secret surrounding it, and yet his aura etched with promises of death at those who provoked his whim.

Godric's lips were filled with delight at the bold tongue of his childe, gallant enough to impress him but not enough to offend. A wise man, and one of honour too then, as well as knowing his own spine and existence of his loins.

"You hear many things now my childe, and hunger for all of them who run with blood. Do you have fear for what you are?" Godric inspected Eric's frosty eyes and every other tiny movement he made, as if to find answers within them, though never revealing the questions asked.

Eric still felt no fear, nor anger.

"No. I had no fear when I took up sword and sought vengeance for my father. I became a warrior from Prince. I do not fear myself now." What he was, though, was still unnamed, as was the one who claimed him childe.

"You are father then, as you spoke. What are you called?" Eric touched one of the boy's marks, fascinated by its appearance. Those in his village had given themselves marks, but of runes for protection. He had never joined them, knowing if the gods wished him to live, he would succeed in his battles. And he had, and yet passed Death once more.

Godric almost burst with laughter upon Eric touching him, his impish ways untamed by choice and tickled by his new childe's quickened comfort in his first waking moments of death.

"I am called Godric. And how shall I speak to you?" he wondered what his childe would like to be known as from this day forth.

"Eric," he nodded. "I long to kill, to search. There are ages yet to find us." Perhaps, if he was to live anew, the path of vengeance would grow longer and less weary.

"Godric." A name unlike others, but one that fit this appearance.

"So you are my Eric. Beautiful and strong. We shall kill together my Eric, and all other things. Ours to have and share. In all your honesty, do you resent it, or will you grow to? What I have made of you?"

"No, I thank you for what I have become, by your will. Death came for me, you made me unable to feel its breath." Eric looked at Godric closely, to see the years etched into his gaze. There was a wisdom he could not claim, one none could, beyond Godric.

"How many times did you stop death? How many ages have you known?"

"Death has no breath. We are death." he drew attention to how his lungs were no longer satiated with air, raising a palm to his mouth to demonstrate.

"Death only has a voice." he explained all their "breath" was good for now. Looking to Eric with a devotion so manic and intense that it almost pierced holes though his skull, Godric ran a palm through Eric's long, flaxen locks and rested a hand firmly upon his chest.

The beginning of his next words was tainted by the incomplete melody of laughter.

"I have known a thousand years, and taken few beneath my dark wing. None walk now and less have been worthy. But you my Eric, a rare jewel, found shining to me in the night. You will make a thousand more of my years worth enduring." he peered into whatever occupied Eric now, to the place below where his soul would have rested still if only he still had it, longingly, lovingly yet with vicious passion.

It was as if they had grown together under many seasons, yet Eric knew only moments of Godric. Until the small one had shown him, Eric had not known his breaths had stopped, and it brimmed his mind with wonder and awe.

"No skald could tell a story as yours, with all their knowledge of worldly things." Godric had chosen him for this life, and had not come to him until Eric was unable to bear his sword. This thing which he now was, it was a noble creature. A blessing from the gods? Eric did not hold such a strong belief in them, even in his younger days, though his fortune begged question of their presence and favour.

"Teach me what you will then, I am yours to school-" He mimicked Godric's motion, unaware of the chill in their flesh. "-that I might see the coming thousand years with you."

To be death was a title Eric appreciated. He would be a swift death, with no prejudice to his touch. All he wished for was the death of one, whose name and face he did not even discern. Now, he could know patience. Time would bring him the one he wanted.

"You have sweet words for me my Eric. How can I sweeten you? If you hunger, let us hunt and feed." Godric grinned so hard his face sometimes seemed a little unreal at times, causing him to look both evil and foolish, the victim of some unexplained mania.

"You could not speak until you awakened, and yet I heard your voice. And do you know what it said?" Godric wondered, cryptically and without apology for it. "Father." his eyes widened, and unknown flavour set the atmosphere aflame.