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...
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Sighing, Alasia gave Imeldina's hand a soft squeeze. "I love you, sister."
"I love you too," Imeldina said, her words powerful despite her weak state of health.
There was a gentle knock on the door, barely audible, and not a second later, Antonio rushed into the room. He appeared to be positively out of breath, most of his small body hidden in a black cloak that was too big for him. For a moment, Alasia stared at her younger brother with an expression of incredulity on her face, but then she burst out in laughter at the naughty glint in his eyes.
"Come here, Nuccio," Alasia said. She stood up from the bed and walked to her brother, easily sweeping him in her arms, but grunting as she lifted him into her lap. Carefully, she went to sit back down on Imeldina's bed, the three siblings united once more.
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Alasia was staring at her husband in silence as she crawled back into their bed. There was the soft glow of the few candles which had not been blown out, illuminating Ivar's striking features. He was laying on his back, his bare chest moving up and down gently in his restful sleep. Smiling to herself, she traced the black lines of the tattoo that covered his pec and shoulder. His skin was warm to touch, igniting a deep spark of love in her heart. The muscles in his face were relaxed and for once that seemingly permanent frown and smirk had been wiped from his face.
Ivar let out a soft grunt and a second later his eyes fluttered open. For a moment he stared at Alasia uncomprehendingly, but then a soft smile came to his face. He wrapped a single arm around her bare shoulders and pulled her close, until she could rest her ear on top of his beating hart and his arm wrapped around the small of her waist.
"Did I wake you up?" Alasia asked softly, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry if I did."
Ivar's hands moved through her hair, brushing away some of the wild locks. "I was dreaming of you being my wife and my queen and when I opened my eyes, there you were, just as in my dream," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Why are you still awake?"
"I was watching you," she admitted, a chuckle escaping her mouth. Placing her hand on his torso, she snuggled closer into his embrace. "I like seeing your face without a smirk or a frown."
Ivar let out a thoughtful hum and squeezed her side softly. When Alasia had been younger, she could not have imagined being this close to somebody and actually appreciating it. She had imagined that she would marry a man of her parent's choice, preferably a kind one, and that with time she would learn to love him like a wife was supposed to. With Ivar's muscled arms around her, Alasia felt at home, like there was not a saver or more protected place.
"I have a confession to make," Ivar suddenly said, a slight smirk in his voice.
Frowning, she opened her eyes and turned her head, so that she might momentarily look her husband in the eyes. Raising her eyebrows, she made an impatient sound. "Well," she began. "What is it then?"
