Now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know I was right.
One girl, one (mostly) human girl, has managed to turn the world as I have known it for over a thousand years time completely upside down. One might fairly inquire how such a thing could be possible, but the answer is both simple and the most unfathomable thing I have yet experienced to date.
She made me fall in love with her.
Love. A four letter word that is so simple to speak, yet so impossible to truly understand and to know. Truthfully, I have always thought of it more as an idealized concept than something that actually existed. To love someone- to really love someone- I was certain was impossible. It is a word that is so casually thrown about by both the living and the undead, a word to substitute something more honest and accurate, such as “fleeting affection,” but it could not possibly be real. Not when I had so much reason to doubt it.
I have heard so many use it without an ounce of meaning. Is it really love when, after a few nights spent apart, one's eye and body is wandering towards a new party, and one's mind is wandering away from that which they claim to have such a deep affection for? Is it love when one thinks only of himself? Is it love when she puts herself first? Is it love when one's actions are fueled by the things using such a word can give them? Be it sex, blood, power, or material goods? Is it love when such a thing can be easily discarded for something more promising or more desirable? Is it love when distance or absence is able to interfere?
No. This is not love. I have never felt it was.
Of course, there have been plenty who have claimed to love me. How easily lust is mistaken for love. The difference between the two could not be more dramatic, however. While I had never loved, I have lusted. Oh, how I have lusted in my many years, but even without ever having experienced love for myself, I knew it was not the same. Passion without depth, without meaning, is nothing more than physical desire, which has always been enough for me. The kind of love I was both offered and willing to give in return left me sated. I gave no weight to the word when it was offered to me. Not when I was certain it was meaningless.
I always refused to use it myself, regardless of the cost of not returning the sentiment. Why should I perpetuate the lie? They would go on to offer someone else their brand of “love,” forgetting so easily how a word with such meaning had been offered to me, and someone new would willingly accept my own limited lust for themselves without hesitation.
Many believed they could or would change me. That in time, I would come to offer up the word so many have made nearly worthless with misuse. Just as my outward appearance had not changed since my death over a millennium ago, neither would my position on falsely claiming to love what I did not.
Really, why should it have? Even as a mortal man, I had never known nor experienced what I believed love to be. My marriage was not built upon such frivolous things as unwavering and irreplaceable affection. When my elder brother had died in battle and left behind a widow in the marriage our parents had arranged for him, it fell to me to marry her to keep our families connected. She was a good woman, a good mother to our children, and a good enough wife, but it was never truly about love. Her death was an undeniable loss to me, but my heart did not break, my world did not shatter. I had not truly lost a piece of myself with her passing, and though I grieved for the end of a woman I had come to care for and respect, I carried on.
When I had never known or experienced love for myself, I could not miss it, I could not crave it. I was not seeking it, nor expecting it to find me. Such a thing was not meant for me, I was certain of this, and I had accepted it without mourning.
Of course, that did not stop me from being curious of it. There are moments of my existence that have been encompassing in their darkness and loneliness. In such times, I allowed myself to wonder what such a thing could be like for me. Even though I was sure I could not love nor be loved, that did not stop me from wanting it. Isn’t that how things so often are though? What we can never have, we yearn for the most. I was certain it was not for me, however, so I never allowed me to fool myself into believing it could or would happen.
So naturally, when I least anticipated it, it did.
Few things for a vampire my age can ever be considered new, yet everything with Sookie has been. From the moment she first entered my nightclub, clueless and hopeless, she entranced and fascinated me. When she daringly (and perhaps foolishly) exposed her valuable gift of reading human thoughts in order to spare me and my child from being implicated in a raid on Fangtasia, I saw in her a sense of charity I had come to believe no longer existed in this world. It was the same kind of charity I foolishly offered to a stranger lying on the side of a road and calling out for aid on the last night of my life.
The difference was that Sookie knew exactly what I was, and she hadn’t hesitated at all in order to help me. I could barely fathom it.
From there, as if that in itself was not earthshaking enough, she exposed me to compassion. After she had offered up such unexpected charity and revealed her gift in doing so, I had attempted to show the girl exactly who and what she had aided. I had been so prepared to threaten and scare this young human woman beyond her wildest imaginations, to give her a dose of reality she clearly needed if she intended on not being the next Bon Temps bloodsack to wind up dead. Calling her to Fangtasia in order to uncover who was stealing from me in the manner I had should have terrified her.
And while I could smell the fear on her and see it in her mannerisms, it didn’t stop her from holding her ground in demanding no lives could be taken by using her gift. She looked at the sweaty, worthless accountant who tended the books and the vampire-addicted waitresses who wore their desperation in scars on the flesh of their necks as if they were valuable and worth something. She soothed and comforted them as she read their thoughts and questioned them aloud. She meant nothing to them. I could see in their very expressions that they loathed this girl who could single-handedly be their end, but she never let this change her demands. She protected them, without reason, and was an unwavering source of calm to them they didn’t deserve.
And I had thought I had seen everything.
I went out of my way to make the girl uncomfortable. She portrayed the image of a proper southern belle and I am proud to be the exact opposite, so I reveled in being as rude, shocking, and crass as possible. I wanted to fuck her, so I told her so often. I propositioned her in inappropriate manners in front of others despite the fact that she belonged to another. My lips sought and found hers without her approval. I tricked her into consuming my blood. I laughed at her anger and shamelessly taunted her.
And what did she do in turn? She forgave me. Forgiveness itself is a concept I am unfamiliar with. Vampires tend to seldom forgive and never forget. Had I done to another vampire what I did to her, I would have paid for it in blood and would eternally be looking over my shoulder expecting retaliation. I have had so many humans who have expected for me to purchase forgiveness in jewelry and other pricy things. Such thoughts never occurred to my Sookie. She simply met my gaze and dismissed the many ways I wronged her. Even when I did the same things over and over, even when I refused to “learn my lesson” and accept her rejection, she forgave me. Without reason, without gaining anything from it, she forgave me, time and time again.
And I cannot put into words what a new feeling being truly forgiven is to me.
When she finally rid herself of the Civil War Relic and gave herself to me, she gave me a gift I have sought for so many years through our bond. She allowed me to feel her happiness- true happiness- and happiness that I was the cause of. It wasn’t things I could give her that made her experience these feelings either. I could feel it so clearly in moments that made little sense to me. She was so happy when I simply agreed to attend a dinner with her brother, @HornDogJason. She was so thrilled when I would agree to spend my daytime death in her farmhouse instead of returning to Shreveport. She allowed me to feel her true bliss when doing nothing but watching an old movie with her on her ugly living room couch, or when first taking her into my arms after a few nights spent apart. She allowed me to feel these echoes of something I have so long ago forgotten and have spent so long searching for again, and never once hesitated to tell me with complete sincerity that I was the cause of her elated mood.
That I could make another so rare and extraordinary as her happy is the greatest gift I have ever been given.
And then, when I was not expecting it at all, she loved me. Through all the tragedies and losses my lover has felt and experienced in her brief time on this earth, she knows better than most how fleeting and fragile human life is. Still, she gave her heart to me, unguarded and raw with the pain of previous betrayals to have, hold, and protect. She gave it to me without expecting or demanding the same in turn. She offered the sentiment and did not let me feel even a hint of disappointment in her when I failed to return the words to her. She had given me the power to crush and destroy her, for no reason other than she wanted to. She trusted me with it. She demanded nothing in return.
Then, she watched me shatter. She felt my pain and helplessness so clearly as Fangtasia burned around me. She watched the proud, Viking warrior and Sheriff of Area Five be reduced to nothing more than a shell of what I am. She felt me break and then she aided the confused and lost vampire I had become out of my own miserable prison. She did not judge me for my weakness, though I believe she was as aware of it as I am. Instead, she nursed me, she cried for me, she cared for me, she protected me. She has sheltered and clothed me, knowing that doing so puts herself and her home in danger, without seeking anything in return.
She has listened to me express fears I have never been comfortable voicing to another and does not let such change her feelings for me. While I would expect most to be repulsed by the uncertainty and hesitation I find myself feeling so easily now- while I would be repulsed by another if they were the one with such uncertainty and hesitation- it has not clouded nor altered my lover’s opinions nor feelings in the slightest. If anything, it has only made her more certain she needs to be at my side, that it is where she belongs.
And the more I consider these things, the more I believe that she is right. The more I allow myself to feel what she feels for me, the more I realize I feel the same. The more time I spend with my lover, the more I realize she has become an integral and vital part of both my nights and of me. Because Sookie has opened herself so completely to me, because she has not hesitated to feel so sincerely and strongly for me, my own walls and defenses have allowed her to pass through them.
As she slumbered at my side on Thanksgiving, having submitted to her exhaustion even before all our guests had departed for the night, I found myself pondering if I could love this woman. Even as she slept, I found her presence and proximity to me to be a pillar of strength and comfort. The way she curled into my side and the way her hand instinctively curled and grasped at the air when I had first moved away from her told me I was the same to her. Even after she had seen me weakest, even when she was at her most vulnerable, she sought me and trusted me.
Being as unfamiliar with love as I am, I found myself frequently pondering it over the next few nights, trying to identify exactly what it was that I felt for Sookie. Undeniably, every moment I spend with her is important to me. Whether we are alone or with others, whether we are watching a movie, sitting around her kitchen table, or whether I am making her scream my name as she writhes beneath me, every second of it is valuable to me. I do not have to feign having an interest in her thoughts. Instead, I am genuinely curious and care about what she thinks. I value her opinion and ask for it often.
I find myself smiling so often when I am near her. After mastering the art of a blank expression centuries upon centuries ago, it is unusual to be so drawn to such a meaningful expression now. Sookie makes me laugh with relative ease and I find her own frequent smiles and laughs both satisfying and rewarding. Around her, things are easy. I find I have no great need or cause to guard myself or to act a certain way. I am able to relax and simply appreciate her company.
And then I enjoy all that is her as much as one possibly could. The warmth of her skin beneath my fingers feels right, as if my hands have been waiting an eternity just to know every inch of her body. Her breath on my neck feels good, as if it alone could warm me to my very core. The scent of her is so familiar and I am so drawn to it, I could recognize her arrival in a room full of people while blindfolded, even without our bond. Her blood is all I desire passing through my lips and everything else fails to compare and satisfy me in the same way. The sensation of her heart racing while pressed up against my own cold and silent chest feels so natural I crave it. And no matter how many times I have her, no matter how I take her, there is no trace of boredom felt by me. In fact, it is so extraordinary every time, I am nearly surprised and dumbfounded by it over and over again.
I am compelled to bring her happiness however I can, in every way I can. I desire to care for her and unburden her senseless worries so they no longer exist. I want to offer her security and build an existence with her. I want her near me, nightly, and actually find myself hoping she desires the same of me. For the first time, I find myself concerned that she may grow tired of me or grow tired of the politics and complexities of my own world and flee it. As inconceivable as I would have thought it, I find myself willing to sacrifice some of what I pride myself on if it would allot me more time with her and please her.
With each of those things considered, each and every one of them new and unexpected, it seems I can only bring myself to one conclusion that feels both good and somehow right, no matter how unfamiliar it may be.
I, Eric Northman, am in love with Sookie Stackhouse. My human, my telepath, my lover, my dearest one, has irreversibly altered my unchanging self to my very core.
And I would not have it any other way.
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