Looking back on it now, there was no way it could have been any different, not with how his life started. He had not wanted the life that Lorena had forced upon him. He had always viewed it as a curse rather than a gift and because of that, he could not give Lorena the gratitude and affection she so desperately wanted. He had been a disobedient and difficult child to Lorena, something that was strong in this line of vampire progeny.
Just as he was disobedient, Lorena had been disobedient to István, and István disobedient to his maker, and so forth.
He still struggled with Jessica now. She was by no means an easy child. Sometimes it felt like all he said to her was "As your maker I command you" and "Leave me". At times, she refused to be reasoned with and he did not wish to be violent with her if he could avoid it. There were times he wished above all else that he and Sookie had not been at Fangtasia that night and none of the events of Jessica's making had been put into motion. To this day, he would have gladly welcomed that silver-laden coffin instead. She had not wanted this life, just as he had not wanted this life—why he had never made a child in all of his one-hundred and seventy three years until then.
He tried to be patient with her even though she was difficult. He knew that if he was not good to her, he had a very real likely hood of forcing her into being a new, modern age Lorena Krasiki. It frightened him sometimes how much his progeny had in common with her grand-sire.
Since Lorena's true death, he could not help but wonder how his progeny saw him. He was plagued by worry every time he sent her away due to tantrum or failed to invite her along when he went places. He wondered if she resented him for not taking the time he should have taken with her. The immensity of his worry for her was simply unspeakable.
"I'm a good girl. Jesus will take me home to heaven" Those were her last coherent words as a human, though he doubted she remembered them now. They sometimes haunted him on quiet mornings, just before dawn claimed him. She should hate him for what he had done. She had every right to.
He had not planned to have progeny. He had not spent any time considering the possibility that it would be forced upon him, especially after he had mainstreamed. Because of his poor planning, he had failed Jessica.
"You're the worst maker ever!" Those were some of her first and recurring statements as a newborn.
That was when he first came to the understanding that she would be a difficult and disobedient child. He realized he would need an older, more experienced Vampire's help if he were to care for her properly. Under normal circumstances, a Vampire sought the help of their maker when they encountered difficulty with their child. Bill did not have that luxury.
He had pawned her off on Eric in the beginning, saying that he had important matters to attend to on behalf of Sophie Anne- matters more important than his defiant progeny.
He would be lying if he said that some part of him was glad not to have dealt with her, even though it meant leaving her to a more traditional vampire. He could not deal with the guilt of having drained her, sucking her blood from her body as she writhed and thrashed against him, all of her instincts screaming to her to survive by any means necessary.
"What you're seeing, Mr. Compton, in this cow, is a response to stimuli. It's all quite primitive."
The Magister was too old to remember fear and anxiety. The memory of feeling scared as he had never felt it before, until he was beside himself with it, had been erased long ago. If asked, every Vampire in attendance that night would gladly say they had never murmured prayers to something higher than themselves, higher than their attackers, Vampires, when they looked their mortality in the face.
This was not true for Bill Compton. He was not so old that he did not remember the fear of Lorena as she sunk her fangs into the tender flesh of his neck, feeding more and more deeply as her hunger for him increased. He had not forgotten the anxiety that coursed through his veins when he realized that she was taking his blood, draining him of it. He was not so old as to not recall the pain of seeing his beautiful Caroline rocking their children on the front porch, hearing her voice tell them stories as they waited for their father to return home. No, those feelings were no stranger to him.
Had he been left to his own devices, he never would have put another being through that.
He was the one that had felt her heart stop: no one else. Making Jessica was not pleasant and he was not proud of himself.
"You're a maker. You're a hero." Pam told him as if he were some incompetent boy after seeing his anguish.
He did not agree.
Sometime later, after Eric returned her to him, he found that he quite enjoyed her company.
Even in the long nights that he did not find himself with Sookie, he found existence was not lonely anymore. He started to rise earlier, without thought, only so he would be close by when she rose. He found himself curious about her. He began asking her questions that were only suitable to ask if one was a maker. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she was quite knowledgeable about certain academia. He found that she had endearing qualities about her. He enjoyed the fact that her eyes were a bright, intellectual blue just as Sarah's eyes had been.
One day, during their usual early evening True Blood, she smiled at him. He could not believe the real, genuine smile that tugged at the corners of her eyes in real, genuine happiness that his child had shown him. If it were possible, it would have kick started his heart into beating again. He was overwhelmed by sheer joy. Finally, they had begun to bond. He bought her new clothes: something her human parents had never done for her. Suddenly, he was a father again.
And he loved his child, he now knew. He loved his Jessica.
She was his child. She was responsibility. His progeny. And now that he had grown to love her as his own flesh and blood. He had once regretted ever having a child, but now that after sometime he had come to take back that decision, becoming a Maker was the best thing he had ever done. Jessica was his family, and that was all he ever needed.
Just as he was disobedient, Lorena had been disobedient to István, and István disobedient to his maker, and so forth.
He still struggled with Jessica now. She was by no means an easy child. Sometimes it felt like all he said to her was "As your maker I command you" and "Leave me". At times, she refused to be reasoned with and he did not wish to be violent with her if he could avoid it. There were times he wished above all else that he and Sookie had not been at Fangtasia that night and none of the events of Jessica's making had been put into motion. To this day, he would have gladly welcomed that silver-laden coffin instead. She had not wanted this life, just as he had not wanted this life—why he had never made a child in all of his one-hundred and seventy three years until then.
He tried to be patient with her even though she was difficult. He knew that if he was not good to her, he had a very real likely hood of forcing her into being a new, modern age Lorena Krasiki. It frightened him sometimes how much his progeny had in common with her grand-sire.
Since Lorena's true death, he could not help but wonder how his progeny saw him. He was plagued by worry every time he sent her away due to tantrum or failed to invite her along when he went places. He wondered if she resented him for not taking the time he should have taken with her. The immensity of his worry for her was simply unspeakable.
"I'm a good girl. Jesus will take me home to heaven" Those were her last coherent words as a human, though he doubted she remembered them now. They sometimes haunted him on quiet mornings, just before dawn claimed him. She should hate him for what he had done. She had every right to.
He had not planned to have progeny. He had not spent any time considering the possibility that it would be forced upon him, especially after he had mainstreamed. Because of his poor planning, he had failed Jessica.
"You're the worst maker ever!" Those were some of her first and recurring statements as a newborn.
That was when he first came to the understanding that she would be a difficult and disobedient child. He realized he would need an older, more experienced Vampire's help if he were to care for her properly. Under normal circumstances, a Vampire sought the help of their maker when they encountered difficulty with their child. Bill did not have that luxury.
He had pawned her off on Eric in the beginning, saying that he had important matters to attend to on behalf of Sophie Anne- matters more important than his defiant progeny.
He would be lying if he said that some part of him was glad not to have dealt with her, even though it meant leaving her to a more traditional vampire. He could not deal with the guilt of having drained her, sucking her blood from her body as she writhed and thrashed against him, all of her instincts screaming to her to survive by any means necessary.
"What you're seeing, Mr. Compton, in this cow, is a response to stimuli. It's all quite primitive."
The Magister was too old to remember fear and anxiety. The memory of feeling scared as he had never felt it before, until he was beside himself with it, had been erased long ago. If asked, every Vampire in attendance that night would gladly say they had never murmured prayers to something higher than themselves, higher than their attackers, Vampires, when they looked their mortality in the face.
This was not true for Bill Compton. He was not so old that he did not remember the fear of Lorena as she sunk her fangs into the tender flesh of his neck, feeding more and more deeply as her hunger for him increased. He had not forgotten the anxiety that coursed through his veins when he realized that she was taking his blood, draining him of it. He was not so old as to not recall the pain of seeing his beautiful Caroline rocking their children on the front porch, hearing her voice tell them stories as they waited for their father to return home. No, those feelings were no stranger to him.
Had he been left to his own devices, he never would have put another being through that.
He was the one that had felt her heart stop: no one else. Making Jessica was not pleasant and he was not proud of himself.
"You're a maker. You're a hero." Pam told him as if he were some incompetent boy after seeing his anguish.
He did not agree.
Sometime later, after Eric returned her to him, he found that he quite enjoyed her company.
Even in the long nights that he did not find himself with Sookie, he found existence was not lonely anymore. He started to rise earlier, without thought, only so he would be close by when she rose. He found himself curious about her. He began asking her questions that were only suitable to ask if one was a maker. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she was quite knowledgeable about certain academia. He found that she had endearing qualities about her. He enjoyed the fact that her eyes were a bright, intellectual blue just as Sarah's eyes had been.
One day, during their usual early evening True Blood, she smiled at him. He could not believe the real, genuine smile that tugged at the corners of her eyes in real, genuine happiness that his child had shown him. If it were possible, it would have kick started his heart into beating again. He was overwhelmed by sheer joy. Finally, they had begun to bond. He bought her new clothes: something her human parents had never done for her. Suddenly, he was a father again.
And he loved his child, he now knew. He loved his Jessica.
She was his child. She was responsibility. His progeny. And now that he had grown to love her as his own flesh and blood. He had once regretted ever having a child, but now that after sometime he had come to take back that decision, becoming a Maker was the best thing he had ever done. Jessica was his family, and that was all he ever needed.
