Children were always at the forefront of her mind. The soft pitter patter of running feet were what she dreamt of night after night, month after month. A darling boy with bright blond hair, a beautiful girl with amber colored eyes. The sight of them was so vivid at times Freya awoke certain they were already in existence. And then, time and time again, she was forced to face the gutwrenching reality of being childless.

Six years and three healers later, and Freya still hadn't found the cause with herself for forcing them into such a state. She had tried various potions, had laid in the most ridiculous of positions at the healer's suggestions, all to no avail. They could find no cause, no way to make a pregnancy possible. Childbearing was her one purpose in nature, the absolute marking of a great wife, and she routinely failed Daniel time and time again.

The room meant to be the nursery in London presently served as storage for the bits and pieces from her childhood. A bassinet lay in the center of the room with a sheet draped over it to protect from damage. An emptying toy bin (for she could no longer bear to see such beautiful toys not getting use) sat near the corner of the room. Freya hadn't the heart to decorate it, not when she knew it would never be used. She was capable of a great many thing, but that was her one weakness.

"I have," she answered honestly, "I've given it much thought." But had never had a cause, was what remained unsaid.