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 spent two more days in bed after she had woken up initially. She was visited by the Völva on the eleventh day and though she regarded the witch with respect, there was no denying the shivers that crawled down her spine when the Völva removed the poultices from her wounds. A sweet relief had spread through her body at that point, for most of the pain ebbed away, and after one more day of bed rest, Alasia decided that it was time to show her face in public. If she truly was to be Queen of Kattegat, she had better start acting the part.
Humming gently, she picked one of the dresses she had made herself and allowed the thrall to help her in it. It was made of a deep red fabric, embroidered with gold at the hems and the bodice, and most importantly, it had an open back. Not only would it allow her wounds to dry in the open air, but she would also wear it as armour and show it to everyone who cared to see. The dress had particularly long sleeves, giving the impression of wings if looked at from behind. It was a dress that had taken her countless hours to make, but which did the job perfectly.
"It is a little wide, my Lady," the thrall behind her said. She pulled on the edges of the fabric and hid them effectively in the broad black belt that accentuated her waist. "But it will do."
"Seems like I will have to eat lots to make up for it, such a pity," Alasia replied absentmindedly. She still felt a little weak, especially after not having done much for almost half a moon's time, but she was determined not to show it. Snapping back to reality, she turned around with a smile on her face to look at the thrall. She was a young woman, not much older than Alasia was, with dark hair framing her face and shy brown eyes looking at the floor. "What is your name?"
"Cairstine, my Lady," the thrall replied, only looking up for a short moment before her eyes flickered away again.
"You are not from here, Cairstine, are you?" Alasia asked interestedly. She took a seat on the chair across the fireplace and brushed her hair with the comb she had gotten from Ivar's nightstand. With her hand, she gestured that the young girl should take a place there too, which she did only hesitantly.
"No, I am from Scotland, my Lady," Cairstine replied, folding her hands in her lap. "King Ivar bought me from the market to be your handmaiden. I have served the high ladies of Scotland before."
"You don't have to say 'my Lady' after every other sentence, only when King Ivar is present," Alasia said, shrugging. She wondered how it had happened that her life had taken yet another drastic turn. She had been born with maids tending to her every need, then she had become a thrall herself and now she was to be queen to the man she had served before. It surely all fit the definition of ironic. "You are also dismissed for the rest of the day, Cairstine."
