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...
Alasia stared up at the grey sky, shivering ever so slightly. She had no idea how long they had been at sea, but slowly but surely, the kind temperature and the bright blue skies of Naples had been replaced by cold winds and a grey mist of wherever they were rowing right now. Thanks to Helga, she was slowly starting to learn the tongue of the North. She knew the words for heave, boat and other things surrounding them, including the name of those who had captured her.
Helga's kindness was probably the only thing keeping her from going utterly insane. Last night, she had been slumbering ever so slightly, only to be woken up to the sound of something heavy being thrown into the water. She hadn't thought anything of it and gone right back to her awkward slumber, but when she woke up the next morning and noticed the woman who had been tied up behind her gone, she suddenly realized what, or rather, who had been thrown into the water that night. The whole ordeal made her feel nauseous.
They didn't feed her much either, something she appreciated, because the same oscillation of the boat that she had enjoyed as a child on her father's ships, made her feel sick to her stomach now. She had managed to go without puking so far, but the thought of emptying her stomach alone made her feel light-headed. Add to that the death of her fellow slave, and she could literally feel the bile raise up in her throat.
Almost on instinct, she reached out for the cloak of the person closest to her and she tugged on it hard. It happened to be Hvitserk, who turned around so fast that the movement made Alasia feel even more queasy. Noticing the ashy white colour of her skin, he quickly grabbed his knife and cut the rope that tied her to the pole. Unceremoniously, he grabbed her underneath her arms and hoisted her to the edge of the boat without as much as a grunt.
It was just in time, because once Alasia had curled her arms around one of stems sticking out from the railing of the boat, she heaved, a filthy stream of mostly watery bile escaping her mouth and ending in the sea. Laying her head on the wood, she allowed the sprays of water coming up from the oars to cool down her hot skin. Even though she still felt weak, with her legs trembling and her lungs out of breath, she didn't feel as light-headed as before. She supposed that sometimes, puking was good for you. Even if it was only temporarily.
She hadn't thought Hvitserk would actually lift her to the edge of the boat, after all, what could he care about whether she puked all over herself or not, but she was grateful that he had. She felt dirty enough without the contents of her stomach littering her clothes, having worn the same dress for over a week now without washing herself or the clothes. Slowly but surely she was starting to feel like the dirty animal they were treating her as.
