Mega Ball Millions
When we find ourselves in our darkest moments it is easy to let despair take over and drive. When hope is lost we are in that moment vulnerable. In the dark we forget that we are tiny individuals in the vastness that comprises the universe around us. We forget that we don’t know everything, that we can’t see all the way to the end and that when the end comes, no matter how prepared we are, we never ever see it coming.
If we are lucky, winning the mega jackpot millions fucking lucky, we can look back after and either laugh at our own naiveté or discern some deep meaningful life lesson from that sack of shit and lemons that we were dealt and asked to make shit flavored lemonade from, as though someone would appreciate it, want it, buy it.
Not many folks are lucky, and Eric Northman certainly did not count himself among the chosen few. No mega ball millions for him.
After trying everything he could think of to avoid the clutches of the Queen of Oklahoma, Eric’s pragmatism had come to the forefront and took over. Acceptance is the gateway to change, he thought and then smirked a little as he thought about his precocious child Pam and Dear Abby platitudes. He loved her, and he knew that thoughts of her and her escapades would hold him together as he faced this latest fucking from his maker Appius. He refused to let his anger drive him, Appius would pay one day of that there was no doubt, but to think on it too much was to let despair in too close when Eric needed his wits about him.
He had been sold into what amounted to slavery. Accept it. He doubted he would ever leave the treacherous court of this queen. Accept it. He would not bow down, ever. Accept it! The last thought aimed at her highness who had yet to even set eyes on. He was under a maker’s command to travel to her, to serve her as she saw fit. He was hers. Accept it.
Later, there would be plenty time of thoughts for escape and vengeance. Later, he would find a way to process that his maker had found a new way to rape and belittle him, vicariously, albeit, but he knew who was pulling the strings. His strings. Accept it! Pushing all his turmoil deep inside he prepared to exit the car. They had just arrived at the Queen’s court in Tulsa and he needed his game face. For just a moment his eyes drifted shut and he sought the calm center of himself. The guard sitting across from him in the back of the limo chuckled derisively.
“Scared, vampire?” Eric ignored him. The royal guard was always comprised of the largest assholes. “I would be if I were you.” He leaned closer, as though to whisper a secret in Eric’s ear. “I hear that she is vicious when she is like this. You will be lucky to survive here for even a night.” Again, Eric ignored him. He knew how to pick his battles and this one was a waste of his strength. Going deeper inside himself he cataloged what he knew about his new monarch.
She was nearly as old as him, eight hundred to his millennia. She had ruled Oklahoma openly with a proverbial iron fist since the Great Reveal six years before. No one fucked with Oklahoma. She was sought after by the other monarchs for her age, her beauty, her power, and Queendom. They wanted her to marry, to fuck, to merge, whatever they could get, but she held them off effortlessly. She made it plain that things would be handled on her terms, and her terms only. She expected the best, demanded it in fact, and inspired loyalty in her subjects effortlessly. Each of them would die for her.
And they will all die for this. Eric let himself indulge in bloodlust for a moment and then realized he was on the edge again. He took a deep breath, unneeded, but that was how he had learned to meditate centuries before. It was the key to centering himself, even if that was the only practical purpose it served. That one thing was enough.
The car came to a stop and the guard exited the car, holding the door for him. He slid out of the plush leather seat and stood, buttoning his dark blue suit jacket. “You are to wear this when you meet the Queen,” his guard had told him. He quashed the rebellion that automatically rose up and took the suit. Pick your battles, he thought, and then noticed that he suit had been tailored especially for him large frame, and it showed off his excellent physique as well making his eyes shine like sapphires in the snow of his complexion. She has good taste, he thought and then allowed himself a smirk. She did pick me after all.
The guard led him to the door and opened it for him to proceed inside. The foyer was made of green and white marble, set in a checkerboard pattern. Before him rose a large winding stair case with dark cherry wood banisters. He stopped and waited to be told which way to go. “Up there, second door on the left.” The guard remained in front the door. Eric moved forward climbing toward to what he did not know, but he would handle it. He always handled it, this would be no different.
He didn’t knock, instead opening the door and strolling in like he owned the place. He found himself in a study, one wall comprised completely of glass, with the red the dominant color in the room. She sat on the sofa, in a red dress that made her appear a part of the room itself. She rose to greet him, standing in four inch heels and moved gracefully to stand before him. His fangs dropped down reflexively as he took in the Queen of Oklahoma for the first time. She looked him over from head to toe, studying his frame with a smile playing on her lips. He caught her tongue slip out and lick her lips unconsciously as she perused him as intently as he was studying her. Finally, her eyes met his.
He took another breath then, feeling like someone had kicked him in the ribs. She was exquisite. She smiled at his reaction. Her face told him she was used to being admired, and that at the same time, her returning that admiration was not as commonplace. He reflexively stood taller, and on impulse bowed at that waist in greeting.
“Welcome to Oklahoma, Eric,” her voice like soft dark velvet caressing his flesh, causing his ancient flesh to experience a chill, all his hair standing on end as though there were a charge in the air.
“Thank you, Queen Brigant.”