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...
That evening she prepared Ivar's chambers for the night, lighting the hundred candles and making sure the flames in the pit were the right size for the wished temperature. Once she had finished those tasks, she took a seat on the wooden bench and continued the stitching of Hvitserk's tunic. The raven was already beginning to look a lot more like an actual raven, the small details on its wings visible. She wasn't sure if Ivar had been serious about her staying the night to watch over him or if he had only been taunting his brother. She sincerely hoped it was the latter, because her eyes were fluttering shut every couple of seconds already and she was positive that she couldn't survive another night on little to no sleep. Still, she didn't dare to take the risk of angering him further.
She had been slumbering when she heard the creaking of the door, instantly jolting her awake. She watched as Ivar crawled into the room and lifted himself on the bed, his eyes like a storm in the middle of the sea finding her with ease. A shiver crawled down her spine.
"I have something for you," he announced. He turned to his nightstand, ruffling through it before he held out a package, urging her with his eyes to take it.
Hesitantly, she laid the patchwork next to her and walked to Ivar, accepting the gift. She wondered if it was one of his brutal jokes as she pulled the string that held the package together. Frowning in confusion, she grabbed one of the two fabrics by the shoulders and let it unfold itself. It was a dress, made from thicker wool and of better quality than the one she was wearing now. The bodice was of light blue colour, with slightly darker sleeves and white hems. Carefully, she laid it out on the bench to unfold the other fabric. That one was a mantle, made from the same light blue fabric but with grey wolf pelts stitched on the neck. Both of the items were beautiful and she turned her head to stare at Ivar in wonder.
"Well?" he said impatiently, his eyes moving from the fabric to Alasia's face in a way that some might describe as nervous. He had folded his hands in his lap, looking positively uncomfortable. "Do you like it or do you wish for another colour?"
"No," she said a little too quick. Coughing awkwardly, she looked away from Ivar, hoping that he couldn't see her cheeks colouring red and silently thanking Helga for scolding Ivar anyway. "I mean, no, my Prince. I love both. Are they truly mine?"
"They are," Ivar confirmed, looking a lot more confident after seeing her reaction. He was smiling pleasantly, looking like a fallen angel. He grabbed another package and held it out as well. "One last thing."
