Fred sighed and looked away for a moment.
"Very well," She said simply, remembering while they were walking why she hated skirts. Why so much fabric? Was there a problem with legs? Fred frowned while they walked and finally, there was her room. The appointed room at least. Clean as a whistle and she supposed she could bathe. A moments pause and she looked to Leif, eyed his chest and frowned at the scars.
"You're a very strong man," She said simply, "Make sure you clean your wound," And she went into the room and shut the door. Sighing long and ducking her head down. It wouldn't do well to find the man attractive. Not when there was so much at stake. Not when... Fred's hand trembled for a moment and she pressed them to her abdomen... No. Couldn't think about that.
It didn't take long for Fred to sneak out of her room and return to the study, pilfering a few more books before requesting a light and sitting on the bed. Fred read until dawn, consuming the books, simply so she wouldn't have to think. It wasn't the noise of the maids coming to wake her for breakfast that finally got her out of the bed. It had been a few weeks since...
It was the sickness that greeted her after she moved. A fate worse than death it seemed. Fred was hunched over the chamber pot, eyes closed and trembling before she stood up and covered her face. A forlorn look at the books and she gave a shaky sigh. Still trembling slightly, she cleaned herself up and snuck the books back to the study, leaning against a wall, head ducked down, fighting another wave of sickness. She'd have to tell Leif. He brought her here and... Fred couldn't help the quick sob before she covered her mouth and crouched in the hallway to cry as silently as she could.