**A/N: When I say something is AU, it’s…AU. The obligatory disclaimer is found in my profile as well as instructions regarding the lifting and using of my ideas.**
Eric Northman uttered his final line for that now craptastic show, True Blood, and exited the staging area early that morning. Naturally his final lines weren’t in any way climactic or portentous, or even memorable – it was just a re-shoot of some boring mid-season crap that some butthurt producer had decided “didn’t work” and it had to be re-shot.
But, finally, he was free from all the fucktards suspiciously determined to keep him from doing what the fans actually wanted. The fans wanted him with Sookie. Hell, the fans had wanted him with Sookie from back when he was still wearing that itchy wig and had to sit around glaring at people from that stupid “throne”! But noooo, he groused to himself as he stomped off to a trailer to get cleaned up. Fake blood was fucking nasty; he much preferred the real thing. Nooo, the self-important powers that be lived much too far up that twit and Compton’s combined asses to give a shit about what the fans actually wanted.
The rumor on set was that that when She Who Won’t Be Named (on Pain of Acid Indigestion and Bursts of Rage) had started the contract negotiations to allow The Network That Sucks to use her books to produce True Blood, she had acted like a greedy, demented brat. She had demanded, insisted, and thrown toddler-esque tantrums until the stuffed shirts added a clause forbidding any sort of Happily Ever After between Eric Northman and Sookie Stackhouse.
In reality, Viking-vampire Eric Northman couldn’t really care less about the Stackhouse girl. He knew that wasn’t her name in real life but her personality so matched the character she played that the name just…stuck. She was, indeed, quite beautiful and she did smell delicious, but off-set she was lodged so far up Bill Fucking Compton’s ass it was like they were married or something. Oh, wait, they were. Eric shivered violently at the thoughts of marriage and Compton. The un-life was far too damn long to spend with one person. At least political affiliations were for a definite term, although he never could figure out where the author-twit had gotten the idea that political “marriages” would last for a hundred years or more since they generally maxed out at fifty and weren’t ever considered a true marriage.
And…Compton, as he preferred to refer to the man. Even the memory of Compton’s cabbage-and-onion stench lingered. He truly did not understand how Sookie could stand to be around him so much. Did the man not ever hear of fruit? A shower would probably help, too. He shook his head. Sookie really should…anyway…
After cleaning up, he checked his phone before leaving the trailer. The real Pam, his actual Child who was shorter, blonder and even sassier than the amazing actress portrayed her on the show, had landed and was en route to his property in Barbados for a very well-earned vacation and some “alone time”. Cue fucking and feeding on the locals, he mentally laughed.
When he reached his home on the outskirts of town, he parked in the underground garage and descended into his subterranean abode. The house above was a beautifully decorated, professionally tended showpiece; his actual home lay well hidden beneath the surface.
He changed into his more preferred attire of black silk lounge pants and robe, then padded on big bare feet over to the small kitchen to heat up a couple of blood bags. Tired of the world in general and humans in particular, he really didn’t feel like going hunting. In truth, as thrilled as he was to finally be free of contractual restraints, he should consider visiting one of the various vampire establishments hidden in plain sight in the area, but was loathe to mingle with any more breathers at the moment.
Now that his odious contractual obligations to The Network That Sucks were finally fulfilled, he could get on with his un-life. When he was first approached, the show had sounded like a good idea. The powers that be, and indeed everyone connected in any way with the show, would be glamoured to never realize that he was, in fact, vampire. Since his character was vampire as well, naturally all his scenes would be filmed at night, although that necessity was also glamoured into everyone responsible for scheduling just in case some bright-ass decided to film a night scene indoors during the day.
All of his day-time appearances, publicity and otherwise, were automatically handled by his extremely handsome and talented look-alike actor who was one of the precious few humans allowed to know the truth of the incredibly complicated situation. The man looked so much like himself – the resemblance was eerie – that he was most likely a descendant, and the two got along incredibly well. The man had a very busy acting schedule of his own, so it was easy to ensure that they were never seen in the same vicinity as the other.
It had been decided that if they could use the show to get humans accustomed to the idea of vampires actually existing, then their planned reveal would hopefully proceed even more smoothly than they anticipated. It was thought to be an excellent way of judging how well they might be accepted. There was no point in revealing their existence yet if humans were still so hidebound that they would form stake squads and hate groups. Readers’ and viewers’ almost unanimous hatred and disdain for the fictional Fellowship of the Sun was very heartening.
Humans had somewhat surprised the vampire population, at least in terms of their acceptance for the unrealistically campy subject matter of the show. Most didn’t appear at all concerned, and in fact many actually seemed excited by the theory of vampires existing in reality. The show had spawned a plethora of mostly trite novels dedicated to vampire/human relationships and adventures, and there were entire categories of “fanfiction” dedicated solely to the book and the show, or, more rarely, both. Oddly, many of these “fics” were written by amateur writers whose works were by far better than most of the crap published by so-called professionals.
He snorted. The very idea of a vampire actually wanting a human for anything more than a feed and fuck was insultingly laughable. It wasn’t that vampires felt they were better than humans, although some did consider themselves one step away from being gods; it was that humans were just too…disposable. They simply didn’t last long enough to be worth the bother of getting to know them, and as far as trying to form a relationship with one of them? Why? Along about the time a vampire decided that he or she really might want to spend some time getting to know one of them, the human had either started aging badly, started demanding to be Turned, or just ran off wanting to have babies or something.
He shook his head, then strode into his office. He had plans to make now that his time was his own again.
What the network drones didn’t know was that many parts of both the books and the show were, more or less, correct. Before She Who Won’t Be Named became unfortunately and suspiciously immune to glamour, several vampires chosen for their knowledge, tact, and demeanor had been tasked with feeding the foul-breathed twit just enough information to help ease the humans into believing they actually had a clue about the inner workings of the vampire world.
Of course, the information provided was barely the tip of the proverbial iceberg, but it was believed that the knowledge would help engender complacency in the mortals. Eric, however, remained undecided about that ideology.
During his well over 1,000 years of existence, he had come to realize that only the sharper, more intelligent mortals would find comfort in additional knowledge. Sadly, when provided with more information about a subject they disliked, the common lot only tended to grow even more fearful and belligerent. Unfortunately, more humans seemed determined to be hateful, useless mouth-breathers than open-minded, progressive thinkers. Just look at the state of the planet and most economies for proof. But, however they chose to take it, while vastly incomplete and remarkably vague, the information given to them via the books and the show was real.
Although they were not represented in reality on the show, Weres of all kinds, shifters, and fairies of different classes did exist. Demons of many levels, witches, telepaths and many other creatures did exist. Maenads and whatever the fuck Lilith was supposed to have been, however, did not.
Eric was also concerned about the fact that the twit had become immune to being glamoured by the World Vampire League’s hand-chosen few in the first place. While some humans with Supe blood in their background were resistant to glamour, and a very few others were actually impervious, to his knowledge that woman was nothing more than simple human compost. He was just glad that the team was able to cram what they had into her odd little brain while they had the chance.
Initially she and her books were seen as a godsend. The long-established “vampire grapevine” was as enthusiastically active as ever, so it hadn’t taken long for news of her proposed series to come to the notice of the American branch of the World Vampire League, the AVL, who then took serious notice of her ideas and creativity. Very soon afterward, the division of the WVL responsible for monitoring human writers initiated a very quick but thorough review of the woman’s notes and everything else she had concerning that series (Eric recalled a rumor stating that the woman was frightfully disorganized, and snickered), and they had almost instantly decided to use her to further their reveal agenda. The glamouring had begun immediately after that.
He sighed. And she had started off so well, too. She had presented great ideas and her writing style was surprisingly captivating, well, captivating if one were into fast-paced campy fiction laced with brief descriptions of smut.
Then, something happened. How and why did she change…and who was responsible? It was as if she herself had crawled up into Bill Fucking Compton’s rectum. It was strange how she had devolved so quickly and completely.
Eric suddenly wondered what had become of the glamoured assistants assigned to “help” with her writing, then shrugged and returned to the kitchen to heat another donor bag. At this precise moment, they, along with the fucktarded assholes over the loathed network and Sookie’s strange attraction to Compton, were none of his concern.
He was more intrigued by who had caused the change in the formerly capable author.
As with any kind of major life-style upheaval, there were several factions dead-set against the exposing of their existence, which was only to be expected. A few of the oldest amongst them were not only resistant to change, they were resistant to any sort of growth. While he could understand the eldest not wanting to change the habits born from millennia of barely changing when they were forced to, what truly bothered him was the surprising number of younger vampires who eschewed the reveal. Those vampires, he thought, should have favored it the most as many of them would still have living relatives.
Ah, well, he exhaled gustily, some vampires were simple-minded jackasses and should have been swallowed by their mothers before they could have been born, much less Turned.
He returned to his desk and began pouring over that night’s reports of his various business concerns. An hour or so later, he suddenly snickered as a thought occurred to him.
Yes, She Who Should Not Be Named had, indeed, been told under glamour of the AVL, but the stupid slag had never once even begun to think for herself. If she had, then surely she would have realized that America wasn’t the only country with a strong vampire authority. Yes, monarchies quite happily and capably existed in countries world-wide, but there was also an all-encompassing organization overseeing all aspects of vampire safety.
However, instead of using what brain matter she possessed, she had preferred dreaming up ruses for Rapist-slash-Martyr Bill to re-ingratiate himself into Sookie’s life. He rolled his eyes. And what the hell was up with that were-tiger? Preston? And Ben… Warlow… Barlow? He still wondered what the fairy cemetery semi-bondage fuck-fest was supposed to have accomplished.
And that whole “lying out in the sun in the snow” bit? Yeah, right. Vampires might not suffer from temperature extremes as much as humans would, but cold was still…cold. Fucking idiots. Like he, Eric the North Man, would ever be so stupid as to toss away a thousand years of his Maker’s teachings just to…lie out in the sun.
Yes, he had serious doubts about the sanity of the twit and all of those mentally deficient stuffed shirts. Put all of them in a room together and it’d create a black hole of brain void.
Now finished with his work, he leaned back in his desk chair and contemplated his future. Although the position of Area Sheriff was, in fact, a real job, he was glad it was no longer his job. He had quite happily transferred the position over to someone else when he agreed to take on the role of Eric Northman, actor.
With a grin, he dialed the number of the only other Supe to appear on the show. For several reasons knowledge of his existence had been kept from the author so she wouldn’t write of him in her series. Although everyone knew it was coming, an actual year for the reveal had not then been decided, and the male’s appearance was so distinct it was better to not risk his exposure. However, the deranged twit had managed to create, somehow, a vile character whose appearance was… remarkably similar. That suspicious coincidence still needed to be investigated since it was widely known that no one else wished to be so heavily discussed in the novels.
But, the main reason he wasn’t in the books was because he just didn’t want to be. At his advanced age he was considered an elder, and with the power he had acquired both from his age and his person, not many dared cross him.
By the time the show came about, however, his mood had changed sufficiently that he decided it might be fun. Despite hearing how much Eric detested everything about it, he still wanted to try it for himself. Unfortunately, three nights spent on the set more than changed his mind. Eric still teased him for not taking his own complaints more seriously.
With a laugh as he remembered hearing his own complaints echoed and the unusually colorful language that had been used to describe the idiots at the network, Eric held the phone to his ear.
**A/N: Ok, y’all: Is this worth continuing? Is this something you’d want to read? If so, what issues would you like to see addressed? No promises, of course, since what happens is entirely up to my fickle muse who is currently NOT speaking to me, but I would like to hear what you have to say about it.**