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Alfild was young when she first took a life. Though she still had her youth, that innocent nativity of spirit was lost. Alfild had never known blissful ignorance. Her life had been darkness for as long as she could remember, and somewhere along the way that was what she became.
She couldn't remember who she was before the pain began. There was nothing left of that person now. Occasionally she saw glimpses of it when she was alone and she made jokes to herself or smiled under the sun. But even then, a heavy weight rested upon he shoulders.
The old say that the young cannot be wise, that they know no pain and are still just children. But Alfild had experienced more in her short years then any one of her elders.
After taking the young village girl's life, Alfild had fled. She'd been on the run for so long, and somehow her reputation always caught up to her. Something always went wrong.
Everyday seemed like a pyrrhic victory. Though she survived, it was always at such a cost. She was tired of just surviving, tired of living on the run. She wanted to have a reason to live, instead of protecting a life that didn't exist. This wasn't living. This was barely surviving. And she wanted so much more. She wanted to belong somewhere. She wanted to be loved.
"Alfild?" An unfamiliar voice called out to the girl. She stood, suddenly on alert.
"Who are you?" She asked sharply.
Now this unfamiliar face shone, "It's really you." He paused before continuing. "I'm Thorvard."
"Do I know you?" She rolled her eyes, unamused by this unwanted interaction.
He shrugged, "I hear you're a killer. My father says he wants me to prove to him that I am a man. I don't want you to think that this is personal, but I intend to prove myself. What better way to do so than to bring him the head of a murderer?"
"Listen, Thorvard," She began, her hand held steadily in front of her. "I don't want to hurt you. Just walk away."
"I can't do that." He replied, making a gesture. Quickly, Alfild turned to face the direction in which he gestured. She was surrounded.
Slowly, she took out her sword. "Please, just walk away."
"Kill her." Thorvard grinned.
On instinct, Alfild deflected. Her arm reached out to stop her attacker, swinging his arm back and slicing across his now exposed abdomen. A woman soon approached and Alfild swung her sword round, cleanly removing the head from her shoulders. Thorvard was about to run when the girl took the axe from her belt and threw it into his back. She walked over, her hand gripping the bloody handle of her axe and tearing it from his flesh with an awful sound. It echoed through her ears before she dropped the axe back into his body. Each time, she made new penetrations with the axe. Each strike came closer to splitting the man open. His crimson blood leaked out into a pool beneath it, much of it splashing up to soak the girl that stood hacking him to bits.
Alfild let out a raw scream as her axe hit the boy again, her eyes drowned in tears as she took a breath and realised what she had done. Slowly, she stumbled to the ground, dropping the axe beside her as she did. Her bloody skin soaked in the pool if blood that she now sat upon. Her eyes were full of agony as she wept. Looking at the sight around her was horrifying. The death, the decay. All of it was caused by her. And why? Because she had a reputation?
Those people were cruel. They deserved to die. These were ordinary boys and girls of a similar age. And everything was ripped away because of some old folks tale they were told about Alfild The Merciless. She hated that name.
After a long while, she stood and began to collect her things. Her eyes were sore from the tears that she still pushed away. Her sorrowful sniffles echoed throughout the forest, tired eyes just wearing more.
"Why do you weep?" A voice entered her ears.
In an instant, Alfild's heart sunk. She didn't wish to go through this again. Not another time.
"Leave me alone." She said sharply, turning to leave. When she turned, that is when she noticed the woman.
She was tall with flaming red locks. Her eyes were hazel brown and her skin as white as the mountain tops. She wore black, a single piece of red velvet being the only colour. It was a simple piece of material, buckled to her shoulder by a huge metal broach. When Alfild's eyes wandered to the broach, her eyes widened. It was an insignia she knew all too well. The insignia of a woman she had idolized since birth. Queen Brunhilde Redhair of Hrafnland.
"It is such a sorrowful sight to see a young girl like yourself in so much pain." The woman explained, carefully stepping closer.
Alfild stared at her in shock and disbelief. "Stay away from me." She yelled, her eyes filled with terror as she stepped back. "Stay away! I'm cursed."
"Cursed?" The woman asked dawning an amused expression.
Alfild shook her head in attempt to shake the tears away. "Everyone around me dies." She let out in a croaked whisper.
The woman laughed, "Do they not deserve it?"
"No. I do." Was all the girl said.
It was true. Alfild could barely feel anymore. She was numb. She knew that she was wrong, that she could never be a good person and there was nothing right about her. And yet, she couldn't help but drag others into her mess. Though she wished she'd never been born, she couldn't change that fact. She would never take her own life, but she wished she could. She wished she could fade away.
"Why?" The woman questioned, still stepping closer. "Because the world told you that? Because you're different? And so you hide in the shadows, afraid of the light. All because you listen to the words of those you could wear beneath your boot. If only you could just accept what you are."
"And what am I?" Alfild asked in turn.
The woman smiled, "You are strong. You are merciless. You are brave. And I believe that I can offer you something that will allow you to see that."
