Being in the wrong place at the wrong time was all it took for Adelasia's whole life to turn upside down. After being captured by the heathens raiding her city and taken all the way to the cold North, the youngest Ragnarsson takes an interest in her...
It surprised Alasia how easily she got used to the rhythm of her new life in Kattegat. It had been cold when she had first arrived, instantly wishing and longing for the sun and the breeze of Naples, but now snow had fallen, indicating that at least a couple of weeks had passed. Though she still longed for the familiar scenery of home, she couldn't deny the fact that the white layer coating everything gave the Northern city an extra touch of mystery and loveliness. Even thinking positively of the city holding her captive made her feel like a traitor, but she couldn't help it.
Clenching the basket close to her side, she eyed the different fabrics which had been laid out on the stall. Her blue eyes fell on a dark blue woollen cloth and curiously she reached out, her fingers gliding over the fabric. It felt nice and supple, exactly the kind she was searching for. She looked up at the woman behind the stall, whose hair had been braided tightly to the back of her head, her eyes lined darkly with kohl.
"I would like to buy this please," Alasia said kindly, pointing to the fabric. The woman eyed her suspiciously, her gaze wandering over the poor grey dress she was wearing and the thin mantle, neither of them offering much protection to the horrible cold. It was obvious that the woman was wondering why on earth a slave was demanding to buy something, but as soon as Alasia grabbed the pouch Hvitserk had given to her, the coins clinking against each other, the doubt disappeared from her face. After all, trade was trade.
Handing over the coins, she accepted the fabric gratefully, immediately putting it away in her basket. She wished the woman a good day, before continuing her way over the market. Even though it was winter, the market was flourishing, mostly thanks to the Vikings that had come from all over the North to create plans of revenge, and every couple of steps she got an odd look from bystanders, wondering what a slave, Ivar's slave at that, was doing on the market.
Though for the past weeks she had managed to stay out of Ivar's bad graces, she was still getting used to life as a thrall. She had managed to conquer a straw bed, which improved her quality of sleep tremendously, but it didn't weigh up against the long days and the hard work. Ivar still taunted her at every other opportunity, enjoying her sometimes public humiliation, but at least she didn't fear him as much as she did before. The wound he had given her had healed over nicely, resulting only in a thin scar to the side of her face and thus far he hadn't attempted to carve her up again, for which she was grateful.
She had taken a better liking to his brothers, Hvitserk specifically. Somehow he managed to turn up with clothes with holes almost every day, and after having mended the same tunic three times, Alasia offered to make him a new one, something he had almost instantly agreed to. It was also the reason that she was now walking over the market, spending the coins he had granted her for the making of his new clothes. She couldn't help but feel joy at the task at hand, because for once she would be able to do something she was truly good at. Back in Naples, she had made most of her own dresses, even if her mother scolded her for it, telling her that they didn't have seamstresses simply to put them on display.
