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The paradox of vengefulness is that it makes men dependent upon those who have harmed them, believing that their release from pain will come only when their tormentors suffer. Men crave the violence and bloodlust of it all. And her father was no different, the man was practically a god in the eyes of the traitors. They believed the Dane would reign for years to come after burning alive a family but karma always comes into play. And that came in the form of Ragnar the Younger, she had heard word that he killed the man and Ragnar's sister killed Sven with her feral dogs.
Revna wished she had seen it.
But her only goal in life was to find and protect Sihtric. Her heart ached not knowing if he lived or died, she had not gazed upon her little brother in over ten years, and not a day had gone by that she hadn't thought about him. Having been sold to a slaver ship and taken to Frankia to be a slave to noble families made the ever-growing rage stronger and she made a vow to get to her brother at any cost.
They were fools to believe torture and rape would break her, if anything it made her more murderous. She wrote pain and torture into stone with nothing but her fingers and blood, her face held scars from the essence of cold metal. She was living pain personified into a lithe body and if anyone ever wrote about her, they would know, and those that tormented her would run at the sight of it. And when she burns them the flame ignites with her poisoned blood, her only hope is that they suffer too in the afterlife.
She smirked as screams of terror filled the village flames whipped at their skin, and blood was painted on any surface available, dripping into the bloody streets. Spines ripped from helpless bodies and necks torn roughly apart. Smoke choked them harshly as they ran to protect themselves from the monster that stocked after them. The Vikings ignored the children crying as if sensing the evil that walked amongst them. The Frankian men weren't strong enough to ward off the bloodthirsty monster as they begged for mercy.
"What have you done?" A man roared in outrage seeing the bodies but she just sneered her teeth surprisingly the only part of her body not covered in blood. Yet.
"I made an oath to my Gods that I would kill you. Here I am." She smirked at the glaring man and twirled her dagger in her hand.
"You killed one of my sons, whore!"
"Give me more recognition now, I have killed more than one." She taunted as she walked over to the wooden fence, she grabbed a small log and swung at him shattering his leg. "How depressing, your men violated me, etched their blades into my skin, and stole me from my home. It's only fair. How's that saying go again, Christian? Eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a burn for a burn, a life for a life. That's how all this got started and that's how it's going to end." The man clutched his sword and pointed it at her making her laugh darkly.
"You are the devil! A witch sent to test us!"
"Perhaps. I am, however, deciding if I should add to the disorder by scattering your brains around as a gift to the Frankish king." She threatened. He screamed in agony as she carved a message into his chest, she sighed when he began to choke on his blood. She might have wanted to try to strangle him with her fingers, but she wanted to make a bloody and painful job of it and her anger gave her patience as she waited for the darkness to grow, which was in itself a form of enjoyment.
"You have brought my wrath down upon you and your family. Now, to prove to you I am not a coward, like you. I must kill you." And just like a child outlives the mother, so must the character bury the terrors. She grabbed the man and gradually penetrated deeply into the man's body with her dagger, not enough to bleed out but enough to feel the pain.
The torture lasted hours, and his screams were harmonious to her ears, once the smell and sound of burning flesh filled her senses she thrust her hand into the ruined flesh. Her hand squeezed the organ tightly before ripping it out, she watched his heart slow to a stop and shoved it into the man's mouth as a warning to those that followed.
"You ripped out my heart by separating me from my brother. It is only fair I return the favor." She said emotionlessly before standing up. The weapon of destruction came in the form of a woman with nothing to lose.
She traveled from village to village to find answers about his whereabouts, she cared little about the bodies she left behind. She finally found something of use with a pitiful excuse of a Dane, he kept a steady posture while pointing the sword at her once she ventured into their camp. The woman chuckled as she pointed the bloodied dagger at him before tapping it on her equally bloody mouth, who knew it was fun to rip a throat out with her teeth?
When the Dane slashed at her she evaded it easily and grabbed him, snapping his wrist before taking the weapon from the injured fighter. She raised an eyebrow and cut his head off before turning to the approaching leader and a blonde woman who followed with a vicious smile.
"You are lady death?" He asks her and scrutinizes her but she just spits the blood of his men at his feet. "Join us." He speaks again and watches her consider it.
"Where do you travel to?" She asked the Dane and the blonde grips his arm with excitement.
"To kill a king. Wessex, to be precise." The blonde says and all Revna hears is a journey back to her brother. She nodded and the man reached his arm out to her, the two clasping arms in a mutual understanding.
