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...
"I can see why you brought her back," Halfdan said, taking a big gulp from his horn. Half of his face was hidden behind greasy strands of blond hair, the other half inked with tattoos. His dark eyes took in Alasia, scanning her body like she was a piece of meat.
Awkwardly, she folded her hands and placed them on her lap. She was not unbeknownst to the male gaze, but at least back at home, her suitors had the decency to discuss her appearance amongst themselves, instead of in front of her, like she wasn't there in the first place. Deciding not to be thrown off by it, she turned to Hvitserk, looking up at the man innocently. "Was it satisfactory?"
Hvitserk took a double look at her, his eyes growing slightly wide. "Satisfactory?"
"My mending," Alasia clarified, nodding with her head in the direction of the discarded tunic. It lay in the exact same place as where Hvitserk had put it when she'd first handed it over, so she suspected he hadn't even bothered to make sure her work was alright.
"Oh, it's excellent," Hvitserk said nonchalantly, nodding along with his words. He played with his cup, his fingers absentmindedly moving over the groves and figurines on it. "In fact, I have a whole lot of other stuff that needs mending."
She raised a single eyebrow, not sure if she dared to believe his words. "Do you not have a personal thrall?"
"I do," he said quickly. He gave Halfdan, who snickered from next to Alasia, a dark look and the other man hid his smile in his cup. He turned back to the small girl in front of him, the smile automatically coming back to his face. As soon as he had lied eyes on her for the first time, pleading on her knees for her brother's freedom, tears streaking her red cheeks, he had wanted her as a personal thrall and maybe even more later. It had been bitter for him to see his younger brother winning a dumb bet so easily, but that didn't mean he had to give up. "But her work is not nearly as satisfactory."
"Very well," she said, doing her best to hide her smirk. "Send your clothes to me, and I will see to it that they are made as new."
Hvitserk nodded triumphantly. "Now tell me of your city in Italy," he said, earning an affirmative grunt from Halfdan. "We have never been there before this excursion, so there must be many tales left to be told."
She tried to think of a story, one filled with blood and gore and brave warriors, the kind of tales that Vikings would take a liking to, but her mind turned up blank. The only thing in her mind she saw was her father, always her father with his broad shoulders and kind smile. "Well, truth be told, Naples is actually a military city. Much more so than the cities surrounding it, like Latina and Salerno even, which are cities of trade."
