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 same night, she had to prepare Ivar's chambers for the night. She had been given a few pointers by another thrall, but it was obvious to anybody entering the room that Alasia had no idea what she was doing. All the things she was supposed to do for somebody else now had always been done for her. Never mind the fact that everything was different from her chambers in Naples. Instead of a hearth, Ivar's chamber had a simple pit for fire and instead of stone walls to offer some protection against the cold, the whole house was made of wood.
With a grunt, she let a piece of wood fall onto the fire, jumping back in surprise as the flames crackled loudly. Next, she grabbed a long and thin stick, lighting up the tip in the fire before moving to all the candles. She had no idea why Ivar had need of so many candles, but it was up to her to make sure all of them were burning properly on time.
She looked at the dress they had given her, smoothing down the itchy fabric. It was a sure downgrade from the dress she had been wearing before, considering the fabric did not only irritate her skin, but wasn't very supple either. If that wasn't bad enough, the dress was also too long for her statue, the hem dragging over the floor constantly. Helga hadn't taken her rosary, something she was the woman extremely grateful for, but she had taken the thread she used to tie her hair with, leaving her long brown curls to bother her during her work.
After having lit all the candles, Alasia took a quick moment to scan the room. The room was separated by the pit which stood in the middle of it and on one side there was a large bed, probably carefully crafted specifically for Ivar's condition, and on the other side stood a table with a couple of chairs. She had made sure that the two pitchers were filled with ale and water and that the cups were clean.
When she heard the door creak open, she turned around with a jolt of surprise. She could feel her heart hammer against her chest and with careful eyes she watched Ivar drag himself inside the room. Not being able to help but wonder why no craftsman had made a wheelchair for him, she quickly turned around, pretending to be busy with the cups.
"Who would have thought?" Ivar's voice sounded through the room. Alasia couldn't exactly place his voice. It was as if he sounded permanently hoarse and childish at the same time. "You actually did a half-decent job on preparing my chambers."
She looked over her shoulder, setting down the golden cup. Ivar had managed to pull himself up on the bed and he was losing the leather straps around his legs. Alasia pretended not to notice the hint of pain crossing over his face, but when he kept on struggling, she rushed forward. Even though Ivar was a cruel person, his struggle reminded her too much of her little sister to ignore it.
