Fight on Undaunted: Chapter Fifteen - part 1
Warnings: Angst, slash, bloodplay, violence, torture, sex. If you're mature enough to watch True Blood, I think you'll be fine reading this.
Disclaimer: True Blood belongs to Alan Ball and the SVM books belong to Charlaine Harris. Only the original characters are mine.
Thank you for all the kind comments and for all the fave stories, author and story alerts. They’re much appreciated.
Note: This chapter is VERY explicit, so if this isn’t your thing, please don’t read.
Spring. 1212 AD. Morocco
Godric had finally reappeared.
"Explain why people would enjoy this," Eric demanded, still disgusted with what he’d just seen.
"Again?” His Maker raised a dark eyebrow at him, nonplussed. “What is it that you don't grasp?"
Eric waved a hand towards the small amphitheatre. "Entertainment, Godric? Laughing and cheering because people fight to the death?"
Killing in a battle, or perhaps an honour bound challenge, I can understand, but for sport? It’s senseless.
"Godric, this is wrong."
Godric narrowed his eyes, his lip curling in irritation. "Poor words coming from the mouth of a vampire." His Maker regarded him.
This entire spectacle is ridiculous.
There was no official name. Some of the vampires called them gladiatorial games, others called it a festival, while others just called it exactly what it was.
Vampires fighting to the death.
The games had been going on for several months; vampires from all over came and went as they pleased, fighting and dying, and many stayed on to watch the games.
Godric and Eric had arrived several nights ago and having now watched nearly a hundred vampires die, Eric had no idea why any of them would be so eager to risk their necks like this. Tonight alone, eight vampires had died in these so called 'sporting' battles. The arena stank of their remains.
Eric scowled. “Where have you been anyway? I couldn’t find you.”
“I was meeting with the impresario of the ring.”
Eric whirled and grabbed Godric by the shoulders, shaking him. “Tell me you aren’t serious.”
“I will fight Kallisto.” Godric pushed Eric's hands off.
“Kallisto?” Eric remembered her. “Kallisto!”
“You’re permitted to sit in the main pavilion,” Godric said, as though Eric hadn’t spoken.
“You’re fighting now?”
“Yes.”
Eric stared dumbly at the ground, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on and when Godric touched his face, anger won out. Eric smacked his hand away and bared his fangs.
“Are you completely insane?” Eric hissed.
Godric just stared up at him blankly, for once not commenting on Eric's failure to control his emotions. After a minute, he shrugged and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside.
With its long sleeves, it would only be a hindrance, Eric thought distractedly. Cheers from the crowd made Eric realise the fight would begin soon.
"Godric," Eric said softly, his fangs drawing back. His anger was quickly being replaced by desperation. "Please, don't do this. It's madness. I watched your opponent last night. Kallisto killed six vampires, all much older than her."
Eric listened miserably as the crowd of vampires in the arena started calling for the next duel to begin. He was dismayed to see the growing excitement on his Maker's face. Eric began to pace, trying to figure out an argument that would convince Godric not to do this.
“She’s killed many older vampires - fifteen all up. You’re the only one left that is even close to her age," he said anxiously. Reason works better with Godric than begging. "She's older than you, Godric. She'll be stronger than you."
"Kallisto is overly confident in the strength her age gives her," Godric calmly replied, his eyes tracking Eric's anxious steps. "It will be her undoing."
"You sound too cocky yourself."
Eric grabbed Godric's wrists, holding on tight, wishing he had the strength to prevent Godric from moving. “Just tell me why you want to do this.”
Godric glanced away. “I will explain later.”
“Later?” Eric repeated incredulously. He raised his chin defiantly. “What if there isn’t a ‘later’?”
The boyish face that he loved so dearly smiled broadly back up at him.
"I will not die, my Child. I promise you." Godric caught his eye. “I love you.”
While it filled Eric with happiness every time those words passed Godric's lips, this time it did nothing to cool his anger or soothe his worries, and he couldn’t bring himself to reply. Not now. He let Godric's wrists go.
The doors were dragged open, a signal that the fight was to begin. Godric smiled at the sound, his eyes bright in anticipation. Unhappily following Godric through the doors, Eric hoped that was a promise Godric would be able to keep.
Once inside, Eric straightened; his head held high as he went up to the lavish box that seated the three vampires who had organised this blood filled festival. Considering how sadistic vampires could be, Eric suspected they just wanted to see his expression should Godric fail.
They were referred to as the Roman Triumvirate.
As he entered, he was aware of the age that radiated off them. They were not as old as Godric, his Maker had roughly two hundred years on them, but they were far stronger than he would ever be. They didn't even glance at him as he entered and it gave him the chance to look them over carefully. He had heard much about them these past few nights.
The elegant Aemilia Metella, her light brown hair pulled neatly back in bun, tendrils framing her face. She was dressed in a traditional Roman stola and deep purple palla. She noticed his gaze and looked at him, first curiously, and then she smiled slowly before looking away.
Aulus Cornelius Tranquillus wore the more modern clothing of the country, something a rich merchant might wear. He had bright green eyes and a very long arched nose. He ignored Eric completely.
Eric studied Hannibal Antonius Silvanus closely. This was the vampire that had instigated the gladiatorial games, taking over an abandoned amphitheatre, unused since the fall of Rome. He was tall, though not as tall as Eric, and his features were handsome.
Hannibal was the King of these lands and their host. Aemilia and Aulus ruled nearby kingdoms. They were considered to be good rulers, managing their kingdoms carefully, often conferring with each other on royal matters. Or so he’d heard from other vampires.
There was another in the box; Eric had not met this grey haired vampire before. He was rather ghastly to look at and Eric suspected that he had to glamour women into sharing his bed. Surely no woman in her right mind would want to have sex with something so ugly.
The ugly vampire was sitting at Hannibal’s right hand. There were two chairs set up by the railing, one on either side of the pavilion. When it became obvious that no-one was going to invite him to sit, he quietly chose the chair nearest the entrance. Apparently Kallisto’s Maker isn’t here or she doesn’t have a Child with her. The other chair remained empty.
Eric looked around the stands. Over three hundred vampires had converged tonight to watch these vampire gladiators fight and die. Godric had taught him the signs to look for in judging the age of another vampire; Eric decided that none of them were over four hundred years old. All this blood and violence excited them, eyes glittering with bloodlust followed the movements of the two vampires about to fight to the death. Eric grimaced and looked down to the blood stained ring.
There was a range of weapons for the combatants to choose from. They were all made of silver and the two were given gloves to hold them.
Already a long time champion in the ring, Kallisto was enjoying her fame.
She made a show of picking her weapon, holding up first a sword and then a spear to the crowd, letting their calls decide what she should choose. In the end, she ignored them all and selected a silver pronged trident, holding it aloft so the crowd could see her choice. They bellowed their approval even louder.
The weapons master couldn't hide his surprise when Godric turned away from the table. Eric sighed, not surprised in the least. The crowd jeered and laughed.
Aemilia leaned over to him. "Why does he not pick a weapon?" she asked, sounding rather perplexed. "Has he a death wish of some sort?"
She spoke in Arabic, a language that Eric was still unfamiliar with, and he had to think before responding.
"Godric thinks needing a human weapon is a sign of weakness in a vampire," he finally said, hoping he'd phrased it correctly.
Aemilia arched an eyebrow. "How curious." She settled back in her seat, a thoughtful look on her face.
His answer caught the attention of Aulus and Hannibal, but they didn't look at him. Godric and Kallisto were already circling each other.
Aulus snickered, but spoke in Greek, a language Eric understood well enough. "The fool."
Hannibal laughed outright as he looked into the ring. "This should be entertaining then," he said and signalled for the game to begin. "If short."
The crowd began cheering for their favourite, the dazzling Kallisto.
The blonde woman was tall and strong looking and Kallisto carried herself with the air of a beautiful woman who expected others to bow at her feet in worship. She darted forward, her trident held low, meant to pierce Godric's stomach.
But he was no longer where he stood.
She pulled up sharp, looking around and saw him standing several feet away, just behind her. She charged again, but again he moved too quickly for her. They did this dance for several minutes before she threw the trident.
It caught him in the shoulder, one of the prongs barely an inch away from his heart. He stopped, grimacing in pain. Eric watched in horror as Godric's flesh smoked from the silver.
Kallisto raised her arms and the crowd cheered her on. Smirking, she walked forwards to retrieve her weapon.
As her hand touched the handle of the trident, Godric ripped it out, the end of the handle smacking Kallisto in the chin, and he tossed it high into the crowd. There were shrieks as the vampires moved to avoid the silver. Others cried out in delight at the unexpected act.
Kallisto stared up after her weapon in surprise and Godric caught her by the throat. She gripped his hand, thrashing furiously as she tried to pry his fingers off. He held her tight as his shoulder healed. Then he threw her across the ring.
She leapt to her feet, furious, and quickly grabbed a scythe with a silver blade and a spear from the nearby weapons table. She brandished them, the crowd of vampires roaring excitedly.
"He's going to die," chuckled Aulus, watching as they circled each other again. Aemilia glanced at Eric's worried face.
“How do you know him?”
Hannibal frowned, as if about to berate her, but his attention was drawn back to the ring. Eric had noticed that around the Triumvirate the pompous vampire etiquette was rather strict. Perhaps asking a vampire about their heritage is considered poor form?
“He’s a friend,” Eric said, choosing a simple explanation.
Aemilia watched as Kallisto continued flaunting her new weapons of choice and then leaned over Hannibal to speak to Aulus.
"I want to change my bet to favour this Godric," she said in Greek.
Eric kept his eyes focused on the ring. They place bets over these games? He was disgusted all over again. However, the stakes truly shocked him.
Aulus laughed. "You want to lose your kingdom over this idiot?" When she didn't reply, he laughed again. "Fine. Hannibal, do you witness this change? Her kingdom will be mine if she loses and mine will be hers if I lose - which I won't."
"Yes." Hannibal was watching the ring excitedly, but spared a glance at Aemilia. "Don't come begging to me if you lose."
In the ring, Kallisto kept lunging towards Godric with the spear, moving almost as fast as he was. The weapons slowed her down slightly, but she was still able to scrape him with the spear a few times. When she did, he would stop, glaring at the wound indignantly, but would be off before she could skewer him. Occasionally, Godric would dart towards Kallisto, slashing at her milky white skin with his sharp fingernails.
The crowd was cheering loudly, but Eric could see they were getting bored with this game of cat and mouse. He looked back down, focusing. He held in a groan - Godric was enjoying himself.
Then Eric saw why and wanted to laugh. Godric wasn't striking randomly at all - he was ripping through her clothes in strategic spots. She'll be naked in a minute if he keeps this up, Eric realised, amused by Godric's impishness, but still nervous.
Sure enough, Kallisto lost the top part of her dress and froze. Cat calls and laughter ensued. Godric politely stepped away, tipping his head to show that he wouldn't attack her while she redressed. He even turned around. Eric was mildly surprised by Godric's showmanship. With great dignity, Kallisto redressed herself, but didn't take her eyes off Godric.
When she picked up the spear and scythe again, Godric turned back. She lunged at him, but her chosen weapons weren't designed for close combat. Godric was easily able to fend her off, but a kick to the midsection made him reel back.
Kallisto had stopped in the middle of the ring, her teeth gritted in anger. Godric stopped as well, watching her, an amused expression on his face as he waited for her next move, his fangs bared.
"Kill her," Eric urged softly, desperate for this to end. The rest of the crowd was screaming for her to kill him.
Kallisto finally threw the spear and Godric shifted aside as it came towards him, turning around as he did so. He didn't see Kallisto throw the scythe.
It caught him low in the back, digging deep into his spine. He crumpled to the ground, paralysed from the waist down.
Eric leapt to his feet in horror as Godric writhed in pain, his fingers digging into the dirt and his blood spilling everywhere. Kallisto grabbed a sword, causally tossing it from hand to hand as she approached Godric, ready to deliver the killing blow.
No, Eric thought, terrified.
She stood over him, holding the sword high. The crowd's screaming reached fever pitch as they waited for her to triumph.
Have to help him somehow. He felt so numb with fear that it was like a force pressing on him. Eric looked despairingly down at Godric. You promised you wouldn't die.
Kallisto was smiling proudly, relishing the adoration of the crowd.
You promised!
Read Part 2.
Disclaimer: True Blood belongs to Alan Ball and the SVM books belong to Charlaine Harris. Only the original characters are mine.
Thank you for all the kind comments and for all the fave stories, author and story alerts. They’re much appreciated.
Note: This chapter is VERY explicit, so if this isn’t your thing, please don’t read.
Spring. 1212 AD. Morocco
Godric had finally reappeared.
"Explain why people would enjoy this," Eric demanded, still disgusted with what he’d just seen.
"Again?” His Maker raised a dark eyebrow at him, nonplussed. “What is it that you don't grasp?"
Eric waved a hand towards the small amphitheatre. "Entertainment, Godric? Laughing and cheering because people fight to the death?"
Killing in a battle, or perhaps an honour bound challenge, I can understand, but for sport? It’s senseless.
"Godric, this is wrong."
Godric narrowed his eyes, his lip curling in irritation. "Poor words coming from the mouth of a vampire." His Maker regarded him.
This entire spectacle is ridiculous.
There was no official name. Some of the vampires called them gladiatorial games, others called it a festival, while others just called it exactly what it was.
Vampires fighting to the death.
The games had been going on for several months; vampires from all over came and went as they pleased, fighting and dying, and many stayed on to watch the games.
Godric and Eric had arrived several nights ago and having now watched nearly a hundred vampires die, Eric had no idea why any of them would be so eager to risk their necks like this. Tonight alone, eight vampires had died in these so called 'sporting' battles. The arena stank of their remains.
Eric scowled. “Where have you been anyway? I couldn’t find you.”
“I was meeting with the impresario of the ring.”
Eric whirled and grabbed Godric by the shoulders, shaking him. “Tell me you aren’t serious.”
“I will fight Kallisto.” Godric pushed Eric's hands off.
“Kallisto?” Eric remembered her. “Kallisto!”
“You’re permitted to sit in the main pavilion,” Godric said, as though Eric hadn’t spoken.
“You’re fighting now?”
“Yes.”
Eric stared dumbly at the ground, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on and when Godric touched his face, anger won out. Eric smacked his hand away and bared his fangs.
“Are you completely insane?” Eric hissed.
Godric just stared up at him blankly, for once not commenting on Eric's failure to control his emotions. After a minute, he shrugged and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside.
With its long sleeves, it would only be a hindrance, Eric thought distractedly. Cheers from the crowd made Eric realise the fight would begin soon.
"Godric," Eric said softly, his fangs drawing back. His anger was quickly being replaced by desperation. "Please, don't do this. It's madness. I watched your opponent last night. Kallisto killed six vampires, all much older than her."
Eric listened miserably as the crowd of vampires in the arena started calling for the next duel to begin. He was dismayed to see the growing excitement on his Maker's face. Eric began to pace, trying to figure out an argument that would convince Godric not to do this.
“She’s killed many older vampires - fifteen all up. You’re the only one left that is even close to her age," he said anxiously. Reason works better with Godric than begging. "She's older than you, Godric. She'll be stronger than you."
"Kallisto is overly confident in the strength her age gives her," Godric calmly replied, his eyes tracking Eric's anxious steps. "It will be her undoing."
"You sound too cocky yourself."
Eric grabbed Godric's wrists, holding on tight, wishing he had the strength to prevent Godric from moving. “Just tell me why you want to do this.”
Godric glanced away. “I will explain later.”
“Later?” Eric repeated incredulously. He raised his chin defiantly. “What if there isn’t a ‘later’?”
The boyish face that he loved so dearly smiled broadly back up at him.
"I will not die, my Child. I promise you." Godric caught his eye. “I love you.”
While it filled Eric with happiness every time those words passed Godric's lips, this time it did nothing to cool his anger or soothe his worries, and he couldn’t bring himself to reply. Not now. He let Godric's wrists go.
The doors were dragged open, a signal that the fight was to begin. Godric smiled at the sound, his eyes bright in anticipation. Unhappily following Godric through the doors, Eric hoped that was a promise Godric would be able to keep.
Once inside, Eric straightened; his head held high as he went up to the lavish box that seated the three vampires who had organised this blood filled festival. Considering how sadistic vampires could be, Eric suspected they just wanted to see his expression should Godric fail.
They were referred to as the Roman Triumvirate.
As he entered, he was aware of the age that radiated off them. They were not as old as Godric, his Maker had roughly two hundred years on them, but they were far stronger than he would ever be. They didn't even glance at him as he entered and it gave him the chance to look them over carefully. He had heard much about them these past few nights.
The elegant Aemilia Metella, her light brown hair pulled neatly back in bun, tendrils framing her face. She was dressed in a traditional Roman stola and deep purple palla. She noticed his gaze and looked at him, first curiously, and then she smiled slowly before looking away.
Aulus Cornelius Tranquillus wore the more modern clothing of the country, something a rich merchant might wear. He had bright green eyes and a very long arched nose. He ignored Eric completely.
Eric studied Hannibal Antonius Silvanus closely. This was the vampire that had instigated the gladiatorial games, taking over an abandoned amphitheatre, unused since the fall of Rome. He was tall, though not as tall as Eric, and his features were handsome.
Hannibal was the King of these lands and their host. Aemilia and Aulus ruled nearby kingdoms. They were considered to be good rulers, managing their kingdoms carefully, often conferring with each other on royal matters. Or so he’d heard from other vampires.
There was another in the box; Eric had not met this grey haired vampire before. He was rather ghastly to look at and Eric suspected that he had to glamour women into sharing his bed. Surely no woman in her right mind would want to have sex with something so ugly.
The ugly vampire was sitting at Hannibal’s right hand. There were two chairs set up by the railing, one on either side of the pavilion. When it became obvious that no-one was going to invite him to sit, he quietly chose the chair nearest the entrance. Apparently Kallisto’s Maker isn’t here or she doesn’t have a Child with her. The other chair remained empty.
Eric looked around the stands. Over three hundred vampires had converged tonight to watch these vampire gladiators fight and die. Godric had taught him the signs to look for in judging the age of another vampire; Eric decided that none of them were over four hundred years old. All this blood and violence excited them, eyes glittering with bloodlust followed the movements of the two vampires about to fight to the death. Eric grimaced and looked down to the blood stained ring.
There was a range of weapons for the combatants to choose from. They were all made of silver and the two were given gloves to hold them.
Already a long time champion in the ring, Kallisto was enjoying her fame.
She made a show of picking her weapon, holding up first a sword and then a spear to the crowd, letting their calls decide what she should choose. In the end, she ignored them all and selected a silver pronged trident, holding it aloft so the crowd could see her choice. They bellowed their approval even louder.
The weapons master couldn't hide his surprise when Godric turned away from the table. Eric sighed, not surprised in the least. The crowd jeered and laughed.
Aemilia leaned over to him. "Why does he not pick a weapon?" she asked, sounding rather perplexed. "Has he a death wish of some sort?"
She spoke in Arabic, a language that Eric was still unfamiliar with, and he had to think before responding.
"Godric thinks needing a human weapon is a sign of weakness in a vampire," he finally said, hoping he'd phrased it correctly.
Aemilia arched an eyebrow. "How curious." She settled back in her seat, a thoughtful look on her face.
His answer caught the attention of Aulus and Hannibal, but they didn't look at him. Godric and Kallisto were already circling each other.
Aulus snickered, but spoke in Greek, a language Eric understood well enough. "The fool."
Hannibal laughed outright as he looked into the ring. "This should be entertaining then," he said and signalled for the game to begin. "If short."
The crowd began cheering for their favourite, the dazzling Kallisto.
The blonde woman was tall and strong looking and Kallisto carried herself with the air of a beautiful woman who expected others to bow at her feet in worship. She darted forward, her trident held low, meant to pierce Godric's stomach.
But he was no longer where he stood.
She pulled up sharp, looking around and saw him standing several feet away, just behind her. She charged again, but again he moved too quickly for her. They did this dance for several minutes before she threw the trident.
It caught him in the shoulder, one of the prongs barely an inch away from his heart. He stopped, grimacing in pain. Eric watched in horror as Godric's flesh smoked from the silver.
Kallisto raised her arms and the crowd cheered her on. Smirking, she walked forwards to retrieve her weapon.
As her hand touched the handle of the trident, Godric ripped it out, the end of the handle smacking Kallisto in the chin, and he tossed it high into the crowd. There were shrieks as the vampires moved to avoid the silver. Others cried out in delight at the unexpected act.
Kallisto stared up after her weapon in surprise and Godric caught her by the throat. She gripped his hand, thrashing furiously as she tried to pry his fingers off. He held her tight as his shoulder healed. Then he threw her across the ring.
She leapt to her feet, furious, and quickly grabbed a scythe with a silver blade and a spear from the nearby weapons table. She brandished them, the crowd of vampires roaring excitedly.
"He's going to die," chuckled Aulus, watching as they circled each other again. Aemilia glanced at Eric's worried face.
“How do you know him?”
Hannibal frowned, as if about to berate her, but his attention was drawn back to the ring. Eric had noticed that around the Triumvirate the pompous vampire etiquette was rather strict. Perhaps asking a vampire about their heritage is considered poor form?
“He’s a friend,” Eric said, choosing a simple explanation.
Aemilia watched as Kallisto continued flaunting her new weapons of choice and then leaned over Hannibal to speak to Aulus.
"I want to change my bet to favour this Godric," she said in Greek.
Eric kept his eyes focused on the ring. They place bets over these games? He was disgusted all over again. However, the stakes truly shocked him.
Aulus laughed. "You want to lose your kingdom over this idiot?" When she didn't reply, he laughed again. "Fine. Hannibal, do you witness this change? Her kingdom will be mine if she loses and mine will be hers if I lose - which I won't."
"Yes." Hannibal was watching the ring excitedly, but spared a glance at Aemilia. "Don't come begging to me if you lose."
In the ring, Kallisto kept lunging towards Godric with the spear, moving almost as fast as he was. The weapons slowed her down slightly, but she was still able to scrape him with the spear a few times. When she did, he would stop, glaring at the wound indignantly, but would be off before she could skewer him. Occasionally, Godric would dart towards Kallisto, slashing at her milky white skin with his sharp fingernails.
The crowd was cheering loudly, but Eric could see they were getting bored with this game of cat and mouse. He looked back down, focusing. He held in a groan - Godric was enjoying himself.
Then Eric saw why and wanted to laugh. Godric wasn't striking randomly at all - he was ripping through her clothes in strategic spots. She'll be naked in a minute if he keeps this up, Eric realised, amused by Godric's impishness, but still nervous.
Sure enough, Kallisto lost the top part of her dress and froze. Cat calls and laughter ensued. Godric politely stepped away, tipping his head to show that he wouldn't attack her while she redressed. He even turned around. Eric was mildly surprised by Godric's showmanship. With great dignity, Kallisto redressed herself, but didn't take her eyes off Godric.
When she picked up the spear and scythe again, Godric turned back. She lunged at him, but her chosen weapons weren't designed for close combat. Godric was easily able to fend her off, but a kick to the midsection made him reel back.
Kallisto had stopped in the middle of the ring, her teeth gritted in anger. Godric stopped as well, watching her, an amused expression on his face as he waited for her next move, his fangs bared.
"Kill her," Eric urged softly, desperate for this to end. The rest of the crowd was screaming for her to kill him.
Kallisto finally threw the spear and Godric shifted aside as it came towards him, turning around as he did so. He didn't see Kallisto throw the scythe.
It caught him low in the back, digging deep into his spine. He crumpled to the ground, paralysed from the waist down.
Eric leapt to his feet in horror as Godric writhed in pain, his fingers digging into the dirt and his blood spilling everywhere. Kallisto grabbed a sword, causally tossing it from hand to hand as she approached Godric, ready to deliver the killing blow.
No, Eric thought, terrified.
She stood over him, holding the sword high. The crowd's screaming reached fever pitch as they waited for her to triumph.
Have to help him somehow. He felt so numb with fear that it was like a force pressing on him. Eric looked despairingly down at Godric. You promised you wouldn't die.
Kallisto was smiling proudly, relishing the adoration of the crowd.
You promised!
Read Part 2.