The fall harvest was in and the season of feasting had begun. The mead hall was filled with light, stories, music, and dance, and it was the perfect occasion for Freygerd to leave her child bed and re-enter the life of the hall, which had been managed by Ethilda in her absence, and increasingly, by Fallon, who was a natural at giving orders, managing labor forces, and checking inventories. She had proven herself invaluable in the absence of the important people in the hall, and the servants treated her with respect.

Freygerd wore a trailing dress with her hair braided, crisscrossed, and wrapped in lengths of colorful silk. She flashed with jewelry as she climbed the steps of the dais to be served a succulent ham with apples and cranberries. She lifted her arms up, palms flat, in the sign of the Aasir, and the rest of the people followed her lead.

Fallon took her seat at the high table along with Ethilda, and they all said the appropriate prayers for the First Harvest Feast. Music started up and games were played by those who were waiting to be served. Freygerd laughed and applauded for the archery competition that was set up in front of the high table.

"Oh, that is very good!" Freygerd clapped. "I think he will be the victor. If my cousins could see me." She said to Ethilda, shaking her head. "No one ever would have believed that my only friends would be you and a slave."

Fallon glanced over discreetly.

"Surely," Ethilda stiffened. "One is not a slave if she is the wife of a free man."

"Oh!" Freygerd realized what she had done. "I am so sorry, of course!" She often forgot that Ethilda was once a Saxon slave who just happened to catch the eye of a free man of wealth and importance. "But is she truly married if she is still a virgin?"

Fallon sat as still as a statue, looking out over the room. Ethilda giggled and leaned close to Freygerd's ear. They whispered and gossiped, meanwhile Fallon never moved.

"My lady!" A shout from the door brought the music to a halt. "There are ships!"

"Go and see!" Freygerd commanded. She started eating her dinner, realizing that she was about to be interrupted. When the servants returned, they were grinning.

"It is the chief!"

Freygerd plastered on a pleasant smile and motioned to the musicians to play before Guthrum filled the doorway and entered the main room. The residents cheered and shouted his name, welcoming the conquering hero after two months gone. Freygerd got up from her chair and went down the steps where the common people moved out of her way so that she could stand in front of him.

"My dear husband, the Father of All has answered my prayers now that you have returned to me."

Guthrum bent down to kiss her on the cheek. "Where are my children?" He looked around the crowded room.

A servant brought little Ragnar from the bed chamber. He was fussing and half-asleep, his sweaty hair sticking to his head. Freygerd watched her husband take the boy while another servant brought in the daughter, who was holding her head up and looking around the room with wide, curious blue eyes. The boy fussed pathetically. He had no howling cry, so Guthrum was able to shush him. Freygerd prayed that he would not ask more questions about the differences between the two, as the daughter was the image of him.

"He looks so like my brothers," Freygerd interjected, just to quell any bubbling concerns that he might have.

"Gather around," Guthrum announced to the hall.

Freygerd's heart was pounding. She moved to take the baby from him in case he had made a revelation, but he turned away from her to face the crowd.

"Ivar and Bjorn will hold Lundene through the winter," he told the crowd. "They are safe in the walls of the city. We shall make a sacrifice to Aasir for our victory as we expand the lands of Danelaw!"

He did not tell them about his own fruitless adventures in northern Wessex, where every town was on high alert for him. When he finally managed to capture a priest, he learned after hours of torture that the King of Wessex had gone to Lundene, and his entire hunt was a waste of time. Guthrum also did not tell them that his military decision to go into Wessex with three hundred men had cost him a hundred of them, which also meant that he had to scuttle ten of Bjorn's ships because he did not have the men to power them, and he could not let them fall into the hands of the Saxons. But the two hundred warriors around him knew, and soon everyone in the hall would know, too.

Freygerd waited for him to tell the stories of his own exploits, but when he did not she deduced that things had gone badly for him, which might mean that things were going to go badly for her, too. She saw that Ethilda was blissfully reunited with Halfdene, and she could see the love that passed between the two, and a rock formed in her stomach. She regretted eating so fast and started to feel ill. She needed a distraction for her husband if she was going to spend the entire winter locked up in the hall with him.

That evening when he was drunk, he came to the bed chamber, falling and crashing into things, waking the babies. Freygerd groaned and got out of bed to rock them.

"Ivar and Bjorn!" Guthrum announced loudly.

Freygerd closed her eyes and rocked the babies, hoping that he would go to sleep.

"I left them in Lundene!" Guthrum shouted. "I took the boats and took three hundred men!"

"Please," Freygerd whispered.

"PLEASE!" He called out. "Please not landing in Wessex -" he trailed off, realizing that his words were coming out wrong. "We hunted the king in Wessex, but no king was found. Because THAT BASTARD WENT TO LUNDENE!"

The babies cried anew. Freygerd looked at him over her shoulder, hoping he would realize what he was doing, but Guthrum swept his hand in preparation to tell her a tale, and slammed his arm into a candle stand, nearly knocking it over. One candle fell to the rushes on the floor and Freygerd rushed over and stomped it.

Guthrum grabbed hold of her arms, forcing her to look at him. "I searched that damn swamp! I killed the priests and they wouldn't tell me. But I found out! He went to Lundene before I even got there. The fucking bastard."

Freygerd was as still as possible, hoping that he would let go of her, but it was not to be, and the following day she sat quietly on the edge of her bed, the side of her face throbbing. The babies were asleep in their cradles after a long night, and she was quietly brushing out her freshly washed hair so that it would dry. She was disrupted when Ethilda marched in dragging Fallon behind her.

"What is this?" Freygerd asked, surprised.

"Fallon is keeping a secret. Are you not?" She crossed her arms and faced the girl.

Fallon looked from Ethilda to Freygerd and her eyes watered. Freygerd's blood started to boil. "Tell me what you have done!"

Fallon remained in her statue pose, unbreakable, even though tears were slipping down her youthfully round cheeks.

"She is a mature woman now," Ethilda accused.

"Oh?" Freygerd felt the anger fleeting out of her. "Is that all?"

"She did not want to tell you!" Ethilda exclaimed. The girl baby woke and threw her arms in the air, but then dozed off again.

"Ah." Freygerd narrowed her eyes at Fallon. "You do not wish to finish your marriage rituals, do you?"

"M-my husband," the word stuck in Fallon's throat. "Is away for the season."

Freygerd shook her head. "Ivar is not going to bed you. Guthrum is. Of course, you already know this. Why are you being willfully stupid?" She looked to Ethilda. "Saxons have strange notions about perpetual virginity, do they not?"

Ethilda nodded.

"Well," Freygerd studied Fallon. "Abandon them. Those days are over now. You have been married for months already." She sighed with exasperation, then held out her hairbrush. "I won't discuss it. Come and braid my hair."

The night, Freygerd spent a blissful evening without Guthrum. She had Ethilda take Ragnar from the room so that she could sit alone by the fire with her daughter and sing her songs and tell her stories of the homeland.

"One day," Freygerd told the baby. "You will meet my mother. She will love you so much! I think we will name you Frigg. You are so like your own mama, are you not?" The baby smiled and laughed. Freygerd snuggled her slept with the baby in her arms.

The following morning, Fallon did not come to breakfast, and after a few hours, Freygerd went to Ivar's chamber to rouse her. The chamber was empty, so she looked around for a servant.

"Where is she?"

The servant pointed toward the barn, and Freygerd walked through, glancing at the pens on either side of the walkway, but Fallon was not in the barn. She went outside where she saw someone with golden hair sitting on the beach, wrapped in a blanket. Freygerd stopped and inspected the form sitting in the semi-mist of the late morning. She took a minute to make sure that it was not a ghost, or a trick of the eye, then walked over to the silent figure.

Standing over Fallon, Freygerd crossed her arms and looked down disapprovingly. "What are you doing out here?"

She was looking off over the horizon, over the edge of the world. "I am going to feed myself to the sea serpent," she whispered.

"Do not be ridiculous." The wind whipped at them and wisps of her hair flew free of Freygerd's braids. She pushed the loose locks out of her face.

"I want to die."

"Honestly, Fallon!" Freygerd could not believe how dramatic she was being. "Marital duty is not so very bad."

Fallon looked up at her, but her gaze was still distant. "You could cut my throat with a knife. It does not matter to your people if you commit murder."

"I am not going to cut your throat," Freygerd insisted. "You should come back inside. It is cold out here."

"It would take a long time to die of cold," Fallon sounded sad.

"We have all been through this," she insisted. "It gets easier."

"It will never happen again."

Freygerd sighed. "It is only until you are with child. But you must have a child. And it needs to be of Ivar's line, does it not? Do you not want your own husband's child? And if you have a boy first, perhaps you do not have to have another."

Fallon rolled her eyes up to the sky and started rocking gently back and forth.

"You will feel better when you have a child." Freygerd tried to be comforting. "You will be more settled. I have never been so happy as I am with my children." Of course, she meant with her daughter, but she had to get used to including the boy so that she did not slip up in front of Guthrum. "You will be happy, too," she promised. "And your status will increase when you have a child."

"I would drown it in the sea."

"Fallon!"

"Or bury it alive. Or throw it on a bonfire and listen to it scream."

Freygerd took a shocked step backward. She looked up at the hall and saw that Ethilda was standing a few lengths away. She could not hear what was being said, but at Freygerd's expression of horror, she hurried over to them.

"What are you doing out here?" Ethilda asked, stooping down to look at Fallon's face. "Why are you sitting out here?"

Fallon shook her head.

Ethilda scoffed. "Are you that upset about it? It is only marriage!"

"Your marriage," Fallon shot back at her. "And YOURS." She looked accusingly up at Freygerd. "This is YOUR life. NOT mine."

Freygerd gasped. "How can you be so ungrateful? Do you know what might have happened to you if we had not convinced Ivar to marry you?"

"You keep me for your own amusement." Fallon stood up and gathered her blanket around her. "I am a Lady." She walked down the beach and the surf washed over her toes.

"Come back here!" Freygerd yelled at her. "Get someone!"

Ethilda turned back to the hall and started yelling for help. The blanket quickly soaked up seawater and the bottom half of it grew dark as Fallon took another step in the freezing channel. Freygerd ran for her, feeling worn after so many months of bedrest. She was panting by the time she splashed into the water and it was up to her hip before she could grab hold of the blanket on Fallon's shoulder. Fallon shrugged the blanket off, and it fell in the water. The cold was breath-taking, and Freygerd could go no further, but Fallon continued up to her neck.

Several warriors dashed past Freygerd, splashing her in the face as they hurried to take hold of the wayward girl. As they grabbed her, Fallon tried to submerge herself, but they pulled her up, and dragged her, kicking and screaming, back to the beach. She wore only a wool underdress and it was soaked through, giving her no privacy. Ethilda dashed forward and threw a cloak over her while the guards were dragging her. Fallon fought so hard that the cloak fell off, and Ethilda hurried to try and cover her again.

Freygerd followed with an expression of horror and concern behind the screaming, clawing, biting Fallon. Freygerd was beside herself surprised at the wild animal that the honey-haired angel had become. Fallon never expressed anything, and suddenly she was losing her mind!

They went into the barn and the animals spooked at the sound of Fallon. The main room was quiet as they carried her in, holding all four of her limbs while she screeched like a wounded animal and flailed her head trying to pull her arms and legs free.

"Guthrum!" Freygerd called to him at the high table, as if he were not already looking. "Take her to her chamber!" She had to yell to be heard over the girl's hysteria. She held her wet dress away from herself as she turned back to her husband, who was coming down from the dais looking bewildered. "It is as if the Dark Elves took her!" Freygerd exclaimed. "I have never seen her like this!" They followed to the doorway of Ivar's chamber and watched the men place her on the bed.

Fallon leapt up as soon as they released their hold on her. She ran to the far side of the bed pallet and pressed herself in the corner. "GET AWAY!" She screamed at them.

Guthrum motioned for the men to leave, and he also stayed out of the chamber so that she would calm down. He looked at Freygerd. "You will have to do something about this."

Freygerd resented Fallon making another chore for her. She wanted to enjoy her time with her baby, but this wayward girl was making it impossible. She turned away from her husband, who watched as she went into the chamber and fed the peat fires along the wall. Only half of them were burning without Ivar there to demand it hotter. Fallon remained standing in the corner, watching. Her mussed hair was in her face and she was dripping with seawater.

"We must get out of these wet clothes," Freygerd said out loud, shaking her own soaked skirts. She was not sure if Fallon was hearing her or not. She looked at Guthrum. "Please send us some ladies with fresh clothes."

Fallon glared after him as he walked away, but she remained wedged as far into the corner as she could press herself. Ethilda came and took Guthrum's place standing just outside the door. Servants brought bundles of cloth, stripped Freygerd, and redressed her.

Fallon kicked at them when they tried to get close to her on the bed. She was shivering with cold and drips were still falling from her hair.

"You are going to get ill," Freygerd scolded her. "Let them dress you."

"I will dress myself."

Freygerd threw her hands up in derision and motioned for the women to leave the room. "There, now you are alone, and you can do it yourself."

Fallon stepped out of the corner and drew the curtains around the pallet, closing herself in. She tossed the sopping under gown from between the curtains and it fell to the straw-covered floor with a plop. Freygerd waited, but Fallon did not reopen the curtains.

"Do you need some help?" Freygerd asked her. "Fallon?" Nothing.

Freygerd touched the curtain but paused. She took a deep breath and tried to be patient. Ethilda came into the room quietly and picked up the wet linen, glancing at the curtains as she hung the dress in front of the fire.

"Would you like to speak to her?" Freygerd suggested.

Ethilda nodded and Freygerd was relieved to back away. She took a seat on one of the large trunks in the room and watched as Ethilda carefully peeled back the curtain. She spoke softly, and Freygerd had to strain to hear.

"Are you hurt? Come out and we will dry your hair by the fire. No one else is here, it is just us three." She took a step back, and then the curtains parted further, and Fallon stepped out. Ethilda led her to the fire and turned her so that her hair was close to the fire.

Freygerd picked up a comb and helped Ethilda work the many tangles out of the waist-long locks. Fallon remained inconsolable until the afternoon when the servants brought the children into the room. Ethilda's little ones toddled and crawled, and Freygerd's daughter clung to her.

Little Ragnar was fussing when they brought him in. "He has been fed and changed, madam," insisted the servant.

"Give him to Fallon." Freygerd waved him away from her.

As soon he was set in Fallon's arms, he stopped fussing, and when she looked down at his innocent face, he smiled for the very first time.

Fallon's heart melted, and Freygerd was relieved to realize that she could use the child as leverage to keep her in line. As she watched them, she laid her hand on her belly and silently prayed that she would get pregnant with a son. If she could have a son of her own, she thought, she would no longer need the imposter child.