Maybe it's because the King's bite was so vicious, or maybe it's because she's already gone into shock, but when Eric's fangs sink into Sookie's neck it feels like a gentle nip. Much like the ones Bill would take during sex.

Bill…

The asshole of a boyfriend – exboyfriend sits across the table from where she is being drained, watching. There is a pained expression on his face and his eyes convey every ounce of sympathy, as if that is supposed to comfort her. To think that this was the man that she had wanted to marry. God, she hated herself for even thinking that she loved him. When she got out of this – and she would get out of this – it would be a chore to keep herself from staking the son of a bitch herself.

Her vengeful thoughts are interrupted by the realization of a hand brushing her forehead. At first it reminds her of the way Gran would brush her hair from her face before tucking her in for the night. But Gran's hand was always warm. This hand, though it holds the same comfort that Gran's held, is freezing.

Eric…

Though he is drinking deeply from her neck, his hand is stroking her head slowly. Calm down, it says. Trust me. In her slowing mind, Sookie finds that she really does trust him. It's insane and suicidal, but she can't imagine trusting anyone more than Eric in that moment. He is going to make sure that she lives.

When his fangs leave her neck, she feels his lips brush against the wound slowly and deliberately. Trust me.

OK, Eric, she thinks slowly. Her head is heavy and she can't feel her body, but the thought rings clear as she lets her eyes close. OK.

He is scared; Odin shame him, but his is terrified. A thousand years have passed since he last felt terror so encompassing as that which grips his unbeating heart now. The king is looking at him expectantly so he forces on that smile that he knows is too bright, too carefree.

"You'll be able to watch through the security cameras," he tells the monarch calmly. There is no trace of his fear in his voice, simply a blank excitement that he reflects off of the child-like king in front of him. "I'll see you soon." He lets his fingers brush against Sookie's neck – his bite mark – as his final goodbye before speeding towards the front door. He can feel his child's terror, her pain, and it rests like a knife in his chest. He knows what she will feel, knows exactly how it will hurt when he finally burns to ash, and he hates the idea that his child will suffer as he had. More than anything he wants to deny her that sickening experience.

But he has a plan and he has to stick to it. It will work.

It will work, he thinks to himself as he steps out into the sun.