Lyric The Fair

The Bloodless

Rissa stared at her reflection. Her face had too many lines for her age, in her opinion, though she was no stranger to stress. A scar ran from her cheekbone to her chin, marring her otherwise smooth skin. Of course, she hadn't obtained this scar from battle, it had come from birth. It was never explained to her in detail. Suffice to say, she was a bit too large for her mother's body, which had to be cut to allow her passage into the world. A world she now wished she could leave.

That was the difference between her and the other members of the Ulfheðnar. They were all fighting for glory in this life, she just pursued the end of this life. Rissa wanted nothing more than to leave this cold rock behind. Of course, being Sigil the Ruthless' daughter earned her a top spot in the Ulfheðnar, and her prowess as a fighter had earned her the respect and fear from those around her. That fear did wonders in battle but did very little in the way of companionship.

Rissa's brown eyes lifted from the water and gazed across the lake, towards the village her father and his men had marched to. Every person longed for love no matter how hardened by violence they were. Rissa found that she was no exception. She too longed to have arms around her at times and even more so, someone to fill her arms. However, she rarely found males attractive. Not that any dared to even attempt to woo her.

She flicked her tongue over the metal in her lower lip, tasting it lightly. Her braids fell along her back, traveling a way down her spine to settle in the middle of her back. The sides of her head remained shaved, tattoos of wolves snarling on each side. The bodies of the wolves fell down her neck and across her shoulders, spreading wide in a gruesome depiction of the blood eagle. The blood eagle was a legend in her Bloodline, reaching back generations. Nearly every male in her family died from the blood eagle, none of them making a single noise, securing their places in Valhalla. She hoped to be the first female, though her father had other plans.

Sigil the Ruthless was a mean-spirited man that lived his life based on revenge, violence, and the general belief that he was a God. Rissa couldn't count the lectures that her father had given her, telling her she was the daughter of a God, the Bloodline of Fenrir. She had never seen any evidence of this but her father insisted it to be true. Sigil commanded fear from every living soul but his daughter, his daughter could shake even the dead. Her father had trained her with weapons of every sort since she was a child. He had never once triumphed over her. No one had.

That is how she became known as Rissa the Bloodless. Even when fighting men three times her size, which effectively made them giants as she was no small woman, none had ever managed to so much as cut her. They had managed to bruise her, break a rib or two but no blade ever broke her skin. She seemed nearly invincible to everyone she went up against which only left her disappointed and bored. How could one die if no one could even cut them?

Her hands dipped into the water below her and came up to clean her face. The chill of the early morning water had nearly worn off and left the lake feeling almost comfortable. She would like to undress and slip in for a bath but, she had more pressing matters to deal with. A single, black column of smoke had risen into the sky, signaling the return of Sigil and his men. Rissa knew this routine all too well. They would hoard the entire village into its church, including the Duke or King, whoever ruled there. Once they were inside, windows would shatter, smoke would erupt and leave the Ulfheðnar to raid the homes without interruption.

This village was a small one. Not too large nor prosperous but, the rich farmland made for good livestock and crops. It was likely that the Warband would return with several horses, some chickens or other small animals to cook up, and a few riches. Duke Valhir was a rich man though. It was possible that her father would return with a few chests of coin or precious gems. Perhaps he would even bring her a bit of jewelry from the Duke's wife. Then she could have something as a gift if a lovely lady looked her way. Or she could use it to pay a couple of whores for a night of humping, though she knew it would do nothing to comfort her.