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 stood in between Ivar and Hvitserk, her eyes scanning over the people walking the market. They had been calmly looking for the better part of an hour already, and she was getting slightly restless, thinking their observation hopeless. Ivar, who was seated comfortably on one of the upright logs and playing with one of his daggers, didn't seem as bothered and neither did his older brother, whose eyes glanced at her every couple of seconds.
She wasn't sure what Ivar's plan was once they did locate the man, though she had a feeling that she wasn't going to like it. He hadn't bothered to speak with her, only waiting for her as Helga cleaned up the cut above her brow, very impatiently so, before they had retrieved Hvitserk from the Great Hall. The two brothers had seemed to understand each other with a single glance and so the three of them had found their way to the market. At first, the people had looked at them, probably wondering what a slave girl was doing with two Princes, but then the buzz of the market had continued the way it always did.
"I do not think this man will be stupid enough to show his face again soon," she said quietly, her eyes wandering over the thick crowd.
"Patience," Ivar countered immediately, smiling pleasantly. "This pig was stupid enough to damage that what belongs to me. He will show himself, one moment or another."
He had barely finished his sentence when Alasia's eyes fell on a limping man, causing all the hairs on her body to stand up straight, a layer of goosebumps breaking out on her skin. Holding her breath, she waited until he turned his head, eight parallel stripes and a bloody nose adorning his face. "It's the man with the red beard, with the limp," she said breathlessly, her voice barely audible.
Ivar whistled once, nodding with his head in the direction of the said man, and from seemingly out of nowhere his men appeared in the crowd, grabbing her attacker by his arms and dragging him over the square. The said man squirmed awkwardly, demanding to be let go and drawing the attention of everybody walking the market as well. A lot of people stopped, way more interested in the scene of chaos unfolding before their eyes than their groceries.
"Was it you who did that to his face?" Ivar asked, sounding deligthed. He turned his head to look at the girl standing next to him, a newfound admiration visible in his eyes as she nodded curtly. He smirked as though he was suddenly reminded of something, redirecting his eyes back on the man. "Impressive."
Alasia had to admit that from this close, it did look gruesome. In the heat of the moment, she had only reacted with what her instincts had given her, but now that she was no longer under direct threat, she took a moment to really look at the damage she had created. The imprints of her nails were visible on his pale skin and his nose was swollen and turning an ugly shade of purple already, traces of blood still in his beard.
