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...
With a smile, Alasia watched down from her position on the throne in the Great Hall. Wine and ale were flowing freely, music was playing loudly and everyone appeared to enjoy themselves. Her gaze was specifically drawn to Imeldina and Hvitserk, who were twirling around on the dancefloor in a rhythm that matched neither the rest of the people, nor the music. She was standing on his shoes and he was holding her up in his arms, deciding where they would move too. Alasia hid her amusement behind a sip from her cup.
"I could have braces made for her on the morrow," Ivar said into her ear, his voice louder than the music. He had been following her gaze, his eyes locked too on the figures of his dancing brother and sister-in-law. "The blacksmiths will retire from the feasting if I ask."
Alasia turned to look at her husband, the latter word still sending a jolt of shock and pleasure through her body, the smile never leaving her face. "That is sweet of you, but please do not," she said. She reached out, shortly tracing her fingers over his rough cheek, before dropping her hand again. "Her condition is not only in the bones of her legs, but also in other parts. If she wants these braces made, she will say it when the time is ready."
"As you wish, my beloved wife," Ivar said. He grabbed her hand and pressed a quick kiss against the back of it, his other hand motioning one of the thralls to fill the cups on the dais. A young boy came and did so hurriedly.
"It feels good," Alasia said, looking up at her husband underneath her eyelashes. "To be able to call you my husband, to belong to you."
Ivar smiled once more, a genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "As I belong to you."
She let her eyes wander over the rest of the hall. Her brother seemed to be engaged in some sort of drinking battle with Bo, both men staggering on their feet as they turned in endless circles while chugging down a horn filled with heaven's knows what. His wife was seated on the edge of the dais, rocking little Adelasia in her arms and looking thoroughly disturbed. Alasia knew all too well how she felt, for not a year ago she had experienced the same thing.
"Why do we not dance like this in the South?" Imeldina asked, sounding out of breath as Hvitserk lowered her into the chair next to Alasia's throne. There was a healthy blush on her cheeks and both her hair and skirts were ruffled.
"Because it is simply improper," Alasia replied in a posh accent, turning her head to look at her sister in an amused way. She rose a single eyebrow and her sister broke out in a string of giggles. Involuntarily, her mind took her back to the first time she had danced in this strange way, and how she had felt breathless then too. "But it's a lot more fun."
