True Blood: the perfect ending…

Okay, so I have envisioned the perfect ending for ‘True Blood’ (book and series). Well, my perfect ending. Here’s the crux: Sookie must use the “cluviel dor” to turn Eric human. Synonymously, in the name of love, Eric must forsake his insatiable lust for power.

Sookie being with Eric in his vampire form is a sacrifice; a sacrifice of family and simplicity. If Sookie used the faery relic to turn herself vamp in order to be with Eric, it would be on his terms and he would not be required to martyr himself for love, as Sookie already has.

It’s Eric’s turn to sacrifice.

But, of course, life just cannot be that simple – there must be a catch. Here’s my proposal; the cluviel dor, which can only be used ‘for love’, renders the user and the object of its use void of memory. I’m not talking complete memory loss, but all memories that Sookie and Eric have of each other must be erased. This could get quite complex in terms of plot because there are a host of peripheral characters (Pam, Sam, Bill etc) whose memories of Sookie and Eric together must be rendered void for the idea to work.

The idea

… Sookie and Eric will have to fall in love all over again. They will meet a year later and the connection will be instantaneous… they will fit – in body, mind and soul – but will not understand why.  As if they have known each other for decades… but haven’t. It will be like Dead to the World but more intense. Eric will be sans fangs but that ‘rape and pillage’ Viking allure will exist alongside a sanguine tenderness copious sense of humour. And, like a faery tale, Sookie and Eric will live happily ever after.

The tragedy that is inherent in the tale of Sookie and Eric is that Eric sacrifices immortality, life – albeit in a dead kind of way, in pursuit of love. The lovers will ultimately succumb to The Reaper but their love will remain unadulterated by Eric’s speculative existence. And so, Eric’s mortality gives his love for Sookie an ironic sense of finality and eternity, both of which are rendered through the corporeal death of the lovers.

Cliché perhaps? I don’t care. Strength of character and plot can go an excessively long way to undermining platitude. Irrespective of which, what else is imagination for…

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