**A/N: Just for clarification, in this story the actress who portrayed Sookie is simply that – an actress, same as the cabbage-and-onion scented actor who portrayed Bill. Wave bye-bye to them since their relevance to this story is over now. They’ve got kids to raise and a Hollywood marriage to endure, erm, enjoy. Also, this story isn’t on my regular rotation, so as you can definitely tell, updates will be sporadic. Well, even more sporadic than my regular stories…**
Stan Davis, as he was known to everyone outside his immediate family, adjusted his unnecessary glasses and smiled a rare smile of simple pleasure. His brother-by-Turning, Eric, was coming home, as it were, and his Maker was very happy about it. It was rare to sense such quiet joy thrumming through their Maker/Child Bond, so he savored it while he could.
He enjoyed the older Viking’s company and dry sense of humor, and with him around their Maker just might ease up a bit on him. The old guy was never overbearing (rarely), never nitpicked (often), never trod on his toes or anything of the sort (not in any noticeable way, at least), but he did tend to…coddle.
Plus he just kept “forgetting” and calling him “Rich”. The fact that Godric never, ever slipped up on anything else was never mentioned, of course. But at the end of the day The Ancient One was an incredible Maker and Stan had no true complaints.
He knew Godric wasn’t particularly fond of the area and was privately very grateful he had chosen to help with the setting up then running of his kingdom.
Stan grabbed his phone from the charger and as he checked his messages, he thought back to when he had, for better or for worse, acquired said Kingdom.
He’d heard about the Kingdom of Texas from some travelling vamps and before he’d known quite what was happening, he’d had the entire take-over strategy mapped out to the group of bored and impulsive vampires he had been hanging around with at the time and then suddenly oops he was king.
At the time he’d also been a bit worried about Godric. That was the real reason he’d agreed to the impromptu overtaking of someone else’s badly-managed Kingdom. Given his Maker’s paternal tendencies and natural leadership abilities and inclinations, he knew the old man would step up and offer to help.
It had worked.
Despite his Maker’s grousing and long-suffering sighs, his innate sense of order and responsibility had kicked in just as Stan had known it would. Godric was also quite vocally glad to see Stan doing something with his nights rather than just carousing around with a band of loyal and semi-violent idiots who had more brains and brawn than sense.
Unfortunately being a King had never been very high on Stan’s list of “things to do before kicking some bucket”, but…there he was.
Maybe I could talk Eric into taking over the state, he found himself plotting once again. It isn’t like vampires vote for their King…then our Maker-Dearest can coddle and swaddle his Oldest and let me go play…
Stan sighed in fond exasperation. Maybe Godric was suffering from some form of pre-empty nest syndrome and really just needed to Turn a new Child…maybe a Daughter this time around.
He shook his head as he smirked at the thought.
Much more closely resembling the Viking than either the nerd from the books or the redneck from the show, Stan absentmindedly slipped his useless glasses into the pocket of the high-quality yet generic-looking white button-down he’d donned upon rising that evening. Glancing into the mirror as he smoothed his pale blond hair into the “so long as it’s not on his face, all else is fine even if I spend an hour on it” style he preferred.
He snorted at his handsome appearance and retrieved the stupid glasses from his pocket. He’d originally taken to wearing the damn things in a fun but useless effort to disguise his appearance…and had kept wearing the damn things to mock The Twit’s description of him in that series of books…the books that had started out fine but had then gotten weirder and weirder with each new release. He had it on good authority that anyone with any sense was now so sick of her noticeable dislike of her fan base and her blatant greed that they were boycotting the hack.
Power to the people, he murmured approvingly as he tweaked his hair one last time.
With a signature devilish grin, he went in search of his beloved Maker.
Godric murmured an absent-minded “Enter” in response to the light knock on his office door while keeping his eyes on the missive on the desk before him. He knew the intruder was his Child, but he wanted to finish reading the annoyance in front of him before dealing with whatever mischief King Stan was up to now. He could read their Bond, after all, silly brat.
Finally, after finishing the last paragraph, he lightly cursed “those damn Fairies” then turned his attention to his patiently waiting Child.
“And what has you in such a distinctive mood this night?” He grinned suddenly; he knew Stan was looking forward to the arrival of his brother-by-blood, but there was something else hiding in the humor he detected through their Bond.
“I have a gift for you, my favorite Father,” Stan quipped just before tossing to Godric the faux glasses the elder vampire loathed with vocal abandon.
Easily catching the item, Godric looked at them, then at Stan. He raised his brow, then asked, “And what would you have me to do with these?”
Godric detested the ugly, useless glass-and-plastic contraption, and could never understand his Child’s quirk in demanding to wear the horrid things.
“Whatever you want!” With a bow and a snicker, Stan indicated the nearby trashcan.
As Godric was never one to waste an opportunity, within a second the glasses were nothing more than sparkling black dust – and the self-satisfied smirk on his face voiced his pleasure in the act better than any words ever could.
“Finally,” the ancient vampire sighed, happy yet wondering what had brought on this rare bit of sanity from his often unpredictable Child.
“But why, and why now,” he asked, feeling that it was safe to ask now, after the demise of the eyewear, lest his Child change his mind…sadly not a rare occurrence with this particular progeny. Hum, maybe I should let “King Stan” deal with the fucking flighty-ass Fairies…
Stan shrugged and replied offhandedly, “I tired of them.” He looked around the interior of his Maker’s office, and at the pile of papers on the desk, and grimaced.
“Come, Maker-mine. Let’s go celebrate the demise of my eyewear with a vintage virgin, shall we?”
Bolstered by his Child’s irreverent humor from the annoyance of Fairies in general and in specific, Godric laughed. He could always count on Stan to cheer him up. He often called the brat Rich or Richard just to annoy him, but in truth the Child was a blessing to his unlife.
The ancient vampire conceded to himself that he was actually rather content as he and Stan sipped the perfectly warmed “vintage virgin” blood from sparkling glassware – the “vintage” being Hawaiian and the “virgin” being questionable.
He was glad that Eric was joining them – it eased a part of his Maker soul. There was a certain peace gained only by being able to see with one’s own eyes that beloved progeny were, in fact, doing well. The thought of having two of his Children with him under the same roof pleased him immensely.
While he did occasionally consider himself slightly put-upon for feeling as though he had to stay in Dallas because of King Stan, he was glad to spend time with any of his Progeny, and the fact that Eric was joining them made it even better.
He wondered, too, if he could foist the entire Fairy affair off onto Eric… He shrugged. Eric wasn’t just a supremely talented and ferocious warrior – he was a talented tactician as well. He was also good at knowing when his Maker was about to detonate and level an entire room of bickering time-wasting morons, and could diffuse the situation quickly. Sadly, he suspected that Eric would come in quite handy.
His first-Turned had prevented more bloodshed over the centuries than anyone knew, unfortunately…
Stan, vastly more perceptive than he actually wanted people to realize, immediately noticed the minute change in his Maker’s expression.
“Master, what plagues you truly?”
Godric sighed, then glared into his almost empty glass. “We will discuss it when your Brother arrives.”
“Oh,” said Stan with a commiserating cringe. “Those damn Fairies.”
“Yes. Those damn Fairies.”
Half an hour before sunrise, Eric came strolling through the halls of his Brother’s Palace as if he owned the joint. He’d taken a slight detour through Tyler to sate a nagging “I could eat” feeling which, naturally, had turned into a multi-hour feed and fuck, but he had finally arrived home.
Following the pull of their Bond, he quickly located his Maker who was, as usual, in his office. Knowing that he was expected, Eric didn’t bother knocking; instead, he opened the door and strode directly to his Maker, who was sitting on one of the sofas, and knelt before him.
Godric, long accustomed to the heart-deep respect his stubborn first-Turned was determined to show him although he had told him time and again that such observations of fealty were unnecessary and slightly unwelcome, and also long accustomed to having his words unheeded, leaned forward.
He placed his hand on Eric’s blond head in a loving gesture, then with faint exasperation bid his Son to rise.
“Rise, my Son. You made good time even though I take it you found a thirsty itch to suddenly scratch.”
Eric rose with a smirk. He knew his shows of respect and fealty to his Maker annoyed the older vampire, but he also felt that Godric deserved all the respect he could give him, and more.
His relationship with his Maker was at first glance more formal than Godric’s connection with his other progeny, but was founded on a deep sense of trust, love, respect, and a quieter kind of joy. He knew his Maker adored all his Children deeply and profoundly, but as with any family, the expressions of their feelings toward each other were highly individual and naturally different.
After accepting Godric’s offer of a blood, Eric proceeded to pace the confines of the office. The drive had been fine, as had been the fuck and feed, but he was wired from sitting still.
“Yes. In Tyler, actually.” Eric tilted his head in emphasis.
Godric nodded in understanding. The genetic intermingling in that small town had somehow produced a rather tasty variant of 0 negative that he himself had been known to partake of once in a blue moon.
Narrowing his gaze to the corner of his Child’s mouth, Godric shook his head. Normally a very neat drinker, sometimes even the Viking would miss a spot especially when drinking from a glass.
As he told his bemused progeny to bring him a cloth napkin, he shook his head. A Maker’s work was never done…
When Eric returned with the square of fabric that looked ridiculously small in his large hand, Godric took it, raised it to his mouth to moisten a corner, then proceeded to clean the speck of blood off the side of his Child’s mouth.
Eric blinked a few times as his Maker tucked the napkin back into his now-lax hand. He tossed the offending fabric into the trash can across the room and pretended the entire incident had never happened.
I’m over a thousand years old, for fuck’s sake! Maybe one day I’ll learn how to drink blood from a fucking glass…
He cleared his throat. “So, Master, what’s going on?”
Just as Godric opened his mouth to speak, Stan burst into the room and Eric barely had a chance to place his glass on a nearby table before being hugged rather enthusiastically by his younger brother-by-Turning.
Some things never change…Stan’s still a giant puppy in a vampire’s body, he silently snarked, and still has no clue about “vampire reserve”.
As Eric endured having his back soundly pounded in welcome, he wondered suddenly, Where the hell did those fuck-ugly glasses go?
**A/N: “Observative” really needs to be used more often. It’s a real word, only, it’s now considered obsolete. Ok, y’all, reviews feed the muse, so what did you think?**