Zevulun's sense of humor was refreshing, and his confidence impressed her. Whereas most others were too meek or formal in their approach, he seemed to have perfected the art of flirtatious conversation. It had been far too long since she'd had someone with which to banter this way. She and Dogun had often teased each other affectionately. Was this the same? she wondered fleetingly, but the thought seemed to disappear from her mind before she could truly acknowledge it. "Why, I'm offended, sir! Do I seem like the type of lady to just use someone?" She heckled playfully in return. Her own blue eyes were alight with mirth.

Even when he asked about Baldr's father, the light in her eyes did not dim. "No, not at all. I figured someone would ask, at some point." It definitely was not a topic she could avoid forever. She'd been lucky to make it this long without being confronted about her son's lineage, honestly. "His name was Ernesto, he came from the Lagoon. I liked him because he was so... brazen. Different. I don't know, there was just something." She shrugged it off, figuring it wasn't important enough to clarify. Besides, it seemed irrelevant to speak of former lovers with someone who almost held the title himself.

Zevulun's gentle revelation caused a warmth to bloom inside Freya's chest; it was one she had not felt in a very long time, and although it caught her off-guard, she was happy to know her old heart was still beating steadily along. And that, perhaps, there was a chance for her after all. "Thank you, Zevulun. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that." The earnest words fell from her lips in a mere whisper.

While there bloomed a hopefulness in her chest, there was also a strange guilt gnawing at her gut. 'Why wasn't it him?' She wondered in the back of her mind. She knew she could have picked him; the freedom of choosing her mate had always been afforded to her. And now, as she reflected back on that day in the crossing, she kicked herself for not pausing and putting more thought into her actions. At her age, one might think she would be more wise in her decisions.

Apparently not.

"You would have made a great father for him." She paused only for a moment before continuing, "Sometimes I feel guilty that he will grow up without a father figure in his life. Unless, of course, I want to go live in the Lagoon as one of their trinkets." For someone who usually spoke with such softness, the word had a vile edge. It tasted sour on her tongue as she nearly spat it out, disgusted by the thought of living as a captive. It simply wasn't the type of life she wanted to live.