Author's note: I should've clarified, I'm breaking vampire's knees with the nerf bat. Enough so a fit human experienced in fighting can give them a challenge. Where's the fun when the vampires are practically invincible? Also, the ending to the first chapter was kind of crap, I know. And I forgot about this thing's existence for a while.

Sigrdrifa shifted in discomfort on artist's blanket, she has been lying on it for about 7 hours now; in the broad sunlight. It causes mild discomfort at best, and makes her feel like she's standing in fire at worst. If she doesn't think about it, it doesn't feel that bad. Ignoring it is a skill she's perfected in the last… was it 300 years? 400? She's had plenty of time to perfect that skill, along with controlling her previously rampant thirst.

"I must ask you to stop! Anymore movement and it won't accentuate your beauty correctly!" She simply sighed and bore the discomfort. She's also regretting having her portrait done in her nudity. 'Why in the name of the All-father's beard did I agree to this?' "No need to scowl my dear, it's almost finished."

The artist thought about his luck running into such an… exotic beauty. She was obviously a descendent of the fearsome warriors that once struck fear into the hearts of his countrymen, her long blonde hair in elegant braids, her body art oddly enticing in intricate lines and patterns. Her eyes are what made him want to paint her, the ruby red's uniqueness was too good to ignore. Her choice in wardrobe was bold, opting to pose in her nudity. Not an entirely rare choice, but still one unexpected. "Alright my dear, your portrait is finished. I've but a few more touches to add, come back tomorrow, you can see it then."

Sigrdrifa simply nodded and stood, putting her clothes back on. She could always appreciate the heavy velvet outlined with furs. A bit modern touched up with the era she was born in. Finally strapping her Ulfbehrt back in its place firmly strapped to her back, she decidedly took her leave.

The next day

She walked back to the artist's home, stopping in her tracks and snarling quietly when she smelled the familiar sickly sweet berries that's native to her species. She didn't smell blood, and it's a few hours old, but whoever it is could still be here. She ran into very few since she turned, but they were never friendly. This was mildly familiar, and anything familiar never ended well for Sigrdrifa…

She quietly followed the scent to the balcony, it was late in the day, just after dusk. Her scent still lingered heavily there, and she found the artist lounging and chatting excitedly with a pretty blonde with bouncing gold blonde hair. Her features were Russian to a fault, "Ah, I see you have another visitor." Her accent also indicating it so.

"Ah! Sigrdrifa, I was wondering when you were going to come back. Your portrait was finished this morning." He gestured toward the easel, and Sigrdrifa was impressed, he was clearly inspired. As opposed to rolling hills beyond his balcony as a back drop, he painted a hut wall, covered in furs and had several bear heads painted on them. She was lying on a thick fur rug, a deer skin blanket draped over her legs, and her sword was painted in to; the blade itself lying point to floor, on her hip with its scabbard lying in front of her. "So, what do you think?" He asked rather hopefully. Truth be told, she was impressed. He even got the detail of her body art correct.

"I like it." She answered simply. No reason to show what she truly thought about it, lest he got a big head.

The Russian vampire cleared her throat and the artist cursed himself, "Where are my manners? Irina, this is Sigrdrifa. The subject of my masterpiece! Her beauty is astonishing, correct?" Irina nodded and added, "And here I thought you were going to tell me this painting came to you through a vision of a pagan goddess. Excellent work like always, Jean."

Sigrdrifa frowned slightly at her wording 'Vision of a pagan goddess.' She narrowed her eyes in suspicion when she noticed the other vampire had gold eyes, as opposed to the trademark red common in their kind. 'Is she a different kind of vampire? Or does she do something different?'

"I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Irina." The Nordic blonde curtsied, she gritted her teeth in the movement. It felt so foreign, she misses her people with each day passing. But her disgust in what she is drove her forever away from them.

"And yours Sigrdrifa. But, I must take me leave. Jean, we'll be here in the morning for the family portrait." Irina curtsied back and left promptly.

Jean turned back to Sigrdrifa and smiled politely, "Several nobles came by to look at the 'rumored' masterpiece I made. You should be happy to know they showed a great deal of interest in it, I told them to wait, since I planned on offering you first chance to buy your portrait." She didn't want it, she had no way of keeping it since she was to leave France in one week's time.

"I would love to buy it, alas I have neither the money nor the place to store it when I leave France. I bid you to take the highest offer." The artist sighed, she was leaving so soon, he wouldn't get another opportunity to paint the goddess-like woman before him.

"In that case, would you like your name as the title, or would you like to remain anonymous?"

"Anonymous if you will. Good day." She bowed her head and quickly left before the artist could get another word in. Well, he thought, if she wishes to remain anonymous then I shall title it. The words 'Pagan goddess' wrung in his head, and he smiled, engraving a small silver plate with the name of his life's masterpiece "Freya, Queen of the Valkyries"