No matter how nonchalant he tried to be about it, Frey still couldn't help but avert his eyes as the carriage passed by the desecrated town hall of West Kerilia. He saw it now and then in nightmares, rather befittingly since it had been destroyed by a nightmare Blight, and he had no desire to see it in that condition again.

Hopefully the restoration wouldn't take too long.

Sighing, he brought out a pocket watch and stared at it with a blank expression. His mind apparently refused to focus on it, and as soon as he'd put it back into his coat he had forgotten what time it was. The inevitable memories terrorised him no matter how much he tried to suppress them. The state of the town as he'd returned back then, his father's strange appearance and the unknown whereabouts of his mother and sisters, his father more or less kidnapping him...

Frey closed his eyes and bit into his lip as images of his father's glowing eyes flashed before him, and then the crumbling of the treasure filled room as the grotesque creature made its way through the ceiling, tearing the entire building apart in the process.

Another unwelcome memory, and he raised a twitching hand to the scar. That scourgefucking scar that had caused so many to pity him, or sneer. Deep down he pitied himself as well. He'd smashed so many mirrors over the course of the year, anyone of the Ilevishan faith would faint at the thought, and it was likely going to happen again.

He gritted his teeth, trying to forget the pain of when the debris had hit him. To think he'd even been able to stay conscious, even if it had just been for a little while.

In the end he would've preferred to pass out then and there, to avoid the sight of what happened next.

He realised he was trying to blink tears away, and his hands began convulsing rapidly before he could clench them painfully hard to stop it. There they were. The intrusive memories of the Blight and his father, and suddenly half of his father was gone, and Frey's vision was blocked by blood stinging his eyes as it splashed over him.

Surprisingly enough, Marius was quiet. Frey didn't look at him, hoping that ignoring the man would make it easier to hide his imminent tears, but knowing that blabbermouth it seemed strange that he wasn't offering some comforting words.

Not that Frey wanted them or anything.

Finally relenting, he glanced over at Marius who he quickly noticed wasn't too cheerful either, staring out the window at the massacred building with a grave, almost suffering look in his eyes.

"If you're going to say something, you might as well do it now," Frey said, still not looking at him. They had spent hours in that carriage and Frey's mind could only keep up with eye contact and a collected exterior for so long.

"Would it help?" Marius asked, voice low and as serious as his expression. "What words could I say that would make it any easier?"

"I don't know," Frey admitted, staring down at his balled fists. "No one's been able to find those words so far, and it's been a year."

Marius shrugged.

"Best I can offer is a 'this must really suck'."

"That's the best you can offer?" Frey had to smile while blinking tears away. "You're not even trying to cheer me up."

"I'm not gonna pretend there's much to cheer up about. I know you think I'm rude but even I wouldn't tell you there's nothing to be sad about."

Frey's gaze wandered towards the devastating view again.

"... Good."

It didn't take long before the carriage stopped in front of a house of a mediocre standard. To Frey however, it was as if they'd entered a glorified version of The Entrails back in South Kerilia.

West Kerilia didn't have such a run-down slum area like The Entrails, but compared to how his family had lived before, the small house looked so pitiful.

"Hope you have a great continued birthday," Marius said as Frey stepped out of the carriage. "And I'll see you tomorrow."

"And I hope you'll have gotten everything on the list by then." Frey straightened his coat, recovering his cold demeanour in the presence of others and only offering Marius a glance over his shoulder.

Marius held the book up, tracing a finger along the words.

"A... Hundred... Birthday cakes," he pretended to read, and Frey stifled another smile.

"Again, don't risk it."

He spared the coachman a perfect, yet faked, appreciative smile before turning towards the gate.

He'd barely gotten through the door as a pair of arms were thrown around him, and Sigveig's blonde hair got threateningly close to getting in his mouth. He hugged her back for a moment, smiling more genuinely now. It'd been a while after all, and it was nice to get back to his family in a more cheerful environment, even if it was in a different place than usual.

"I saw you through the window upstairs," she signed with her hands as she stepped away from him, and Frey looked at the stairs further into the hallway. He shook his head with a reproachful yet insincere frown.

"Have you been spying on people all day?" he signed back, admittedly a bit rusty, and she jabbed his shoulder in reply. While spending most of her time staring at people walking by seemed like an unhealthy pastime, she did enjoy it, even if nothing too exciting happened.

It was a habit, Frey figured. Their parents hadn't allowed her to stroll around as much as they had with Frey or Annarósa when she was young, so what she lacked in social encounters she'd made up for by observing others from a distance.

"I know, I'm just gonna ask Sigv—" Annarósa said as she walked out of a room further away, eyes widening as she spotted her older brother.

"Oh! You're already here!" She ran forward to hug him, ruthlessly digging her nails into his sides as she did. "You must have gotten up early, especially for being you."

"And I'll never forgive Damien for forcing me to do so," Frey said before returning the nail digging gesture like they'd always done since they were kids.

"We haven't exactly finished all preparations yet, but then again there's not much to prepare I suppose." Annarósa grimaced, and Frey looked around.

"Hard to do in these conditions."

"Yeah, it's still bad." Annarósa shrugged, relaying the topic of the conversation to her little sister through signs as she spoke. "But the town hall won't be done for quite some time. We're hoping they'll be done with the roof before it starts snowing too much though."

Frey reached into his pocket, bringing out the small, wrapped gift at the reminder of the town hall, happy to switch subjects quickly.

"I also brought this, for Ingrid."

Annarósa looked at it with an arched eyebrow and then put her hands on her hips, eyes looking up at her brother again.

"You can give it to her yourself, can't you? It's your first time meeting her after all."

"I just..." Frey shrugged. "... I mean, she can't exactly open it."

"It's a gesture." Annarósa rolled her eyes and waved at him to follow her. "We're all in the dining room. It's brighter in there."

"Right." Frey looked over at Sigveig with a nod.

Entering the dining room, his eyes immediately fell on his mother, sitting by a fairly large table and chatting with Annarósa's wife, Esther. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence but she was apparently too busy laughing at something to do so.

So he cleared his throat, and she jumped as she looked in his direction.

"Frey!" Valdís blinked before standing up to greet him. "Already?"

"The carriage departed disturbingly early." He smiled as he received the third, though briefer and not as tight, hug of the day. "But I suppose I could use some additional time away, so might as well."

His mother quirked an eyebrow and he moved his eyes away, realising his sentence had made her curious and he didn't need that at the moment.

"Esther, it's good to see you." He headed over to Esther and she stood up to give him a strong, almost crushing hug as well. It was as though all the hugs he refused whenever he was in South Kerilia were unleashed on him once he came back home.

"It's so nice of you to join us." Esther took a step back. "Did you have a safe journey?"

"Safe as ever," Frey assured her and then looked around. "So... Where's this daughter of yours?"

"Over here," Annarósa said in a low, singsong voice as she walked out of a nearby room. "She's still sleeping."

"Well, then I'll wait." Frey shrugged and sat down on a chair. "I can—"

"No, no. Come on." Annarósa waved him over, and he frowned. "You need to see how cute she looks when she's sleeping."

"I'm supposed to stare at someone while they sleep?" Frey wrinkled his nose and Annarósa shot him a glare.

"I said come on."

He reluctantly obeyed, knowing she wouldn't get off his case until he did, and followed her into a room with barely any light inside it. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to watch anyone sleep in there, but obediently stood next to Annarósa as she showed him a cradle with a small baby inside it.

Frey felt awkward. He knew absolutely nothing about babies and had never had the desire to do so. From what he'd seen and heard, they were loud, sticky and had a tendency to throw up on things. He wasn't fond of any of that.

"Well, she's... Cute," he remarked, not knowing much about baby standards appearance-wise. He supposed most babies were cute, but which ones were the cutest? "Can she... Do anything yet?"

"Of course she can," Annarósa whispered, signalling for him to lower his voice. "She can—"

Her sentence was interrupted by a couple of sharp sobs, escalating into a bone-chilling scream emitting from what Frey considered from thereon to be an eldritch horror inside the cradle. How the Waste was a chubby potato able to make such loud, shrill noises?

Clearly, this so-called baby thought she was dying.

"I don't think the exorcism took," he whispered and received another glare as Annarósa leaned down to scoop up the child.

"She was probably just startled." She snuggled her daughter close to her chest in an attempt to calm her down. "

Frey unknowingly rocked back and forth on his feet as this went on, feeling even more awkward than before.

"I'll go to the others while you deal with this," he whispered and didn't wait for a reply.

Exhaling as quietly as possible as he exited the room, he went over to the chair he'd sat down on earlier and looked around at the others.

"Tea?" he asked and then turned to Sigveig to repeat it with an added sign. Her lip curled, as if he was suggesting she'd make it.

"You did have one or two servants, right?" he asked, turning to his mother who sighed and made a vague handwave.

"Even though we do, they're currently occupied with preparations for the evening, and they're certainly not the best of the bunch anyway."

"So what, you make the tea yourself?" Frey exaggerated a horrified expression, and Esther smiled.

"I make it from time to time, whenever Mika and Cyrus don't have the time."

Frey nodded slowly. Esther had always had more compassion towards servants compared to her wife and in-laws, going so far as to learn their names.

The memory of him calling Marius by his name came into his head and he winced, hoping he wouldn't start blushing again. His family wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

"Should I go?" Esther continued as he hadn't given her a reply yet, and he shook his head.

"We'll do without."

"Ingrid seems to be awake now," Annarósa said as she joined them at the table with a now silent, wide-eyed baby. To Frey's horror she prompted him to take her. "Here, you hold her."

"No thank you."

"You woke her up, you hold her." Annarósa insisted. "Besides, you haven't met her yet."

Frey frowned, but reluctantly accepted the child, and his face twitched as he tried figuring out what to do with her. How was he supposed to hold her?

"Support her head here," Annarósa adjusted his arm. "You'll end up supporting her back that way too."

He stared down at the little thing with a puzzled look and she stared back at him, probably wondering who the person holding her was. He was ready to pray she wouldn't start screaming again.

It was a surreal thought that it would be a grown up human at some point. The closest he'd been to children growing up aside from his siblings would be the Hargreaves twins, and he was pretty sure he hadn't seen them as small as this one was.

Growing cautious as Ingrid reached a hand up towards his face he leaned back, and Annarósa put on a mocking smile.

"Are you scared of a baby?"

"No, but whatever she wants to do with my face, I won't like it." Frey shook his head reproachfully at the baby as if she'd understand what he meant.

"She just wants to grab at it a little." His sister shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Why?"

"Exploring, I suppose. She's pretty new to all this after all."

Frey hesitated, unsure of what the creature would do to him, but slowly leaned down again to gently bump his forehead against the tiny hand. It was unbelievably small. A little spindly too as if she hadn't quite grown into it yet, but oh so soft.

He let out a breath, as if relieved she wasn't punching at him, but he wondered if there wasn't a hint of delight as well. His hand trembled lightly as he tried stroking the little tuft of dark hair on her head. It, too, being impossibly soft.

"Looks like you're coming around," Annarósa's voice suddenly broke through his amazement and he looked up to realise they were all staring at them.

"I like her better now that she's not screaming."

Then he remembered about the gift, and used his free hand to take it out of his pocket again.

"Here." He handed it over to Annarósa. "Now should be fine, shouldn't it? She's awake at least."

Annarósa smiled as a thank you and opened it.

"Aw, a jewellery box," she said as she held it in front of her, and Frey huffed.

"A music box, actually."

"Oh!" Annarósa turned the box around to notice the winding key. "That's even better!"

"It was a bit of a rushed job still, but I didn't want to come empty handed." Frey raised his free hand in defence. "In fact it's more of a symbolic gift."

"How so?" Annarósa handed it over to him and urged him to show it to the baby.

"Well, I've... Considered allowing Tea for Two to have an offspring. I know for instance that Teshome has a very fine horse and I'm sure we could come to an agreement." Frey frowned as he held up the music box in front of the baby but she didn't grab at it. In fact, she looked a bit sleepy so he decided to wind it up instead. "With some proper training and care, Ingrid would have a very good, obedient horse by the time she'll need one."

Everyone in the room looked a little more impressed than Frey would have liked.

"You'd offer up time from your favourite horse?" Annarósa almost laughed as if he was joking. "That would be quite the gift."

"It would just be for a while." Frey shrugged it off, growing embarrassed as he placed the now playing music box down. "Just letting her take it easy a few months before and a few after."

"It sounds like a great gift," Annarósa confirmed, glancing down at the child who Frey now realised had fallen asleep. "I'm sure Ingrid will love it."

Frey gave the infant a stern look.

"Disown her if she doesn't."

"It would be a sad, sad day."

"I remember you being rather scared of the horses once you were old enough to ride." Valdís smiled at a memory. "Claus had to walk beside you every time for a year, maybe more, holding the bridle because you were sure the horse would run off."

Her smile turned bittersweet, and her already folded hands tightened around each other.

"He never seemed to mind though."

Frey's heart stopped, and he struggled to breathe as memories returned to him as well. He couldn't remember that particular part of his life, but his father had always been with him at the stables when he was younger. He'd always taken the time to. In fact, it wasn't until Frey moved to South Kerilia to study he'd stopped.

He stifled a trembling breath. Why did she have to remind him of that?

"Is that the same melody as yours?" Annarósa came to his rescue and Frey blinked, having almost forgotten about the music playing, and he nodded. It was a distraction from his sombre thoughts at least for a while, but it having been a part of his childhood soon made it painful under the circumstances.

"Anyway," Valdís then said, seemingly oblivious to his crumbling façade, which Frey doubted she was, and switched to a more serious tone. "How are things in South Kerilia?"

"Good enough, I suppose." Frey shook the memories away and refused to let any further emotions show. "Working a lot, trying to expand the little land I have left."

The four women exchanged glances Frey was not fond of, and Valdís put on a warm yet strained smile before replying.

"And how is that going?"

"... Good enough," Frey continued, raising his gaze to stare at his mother, allowing some hostility in his voice. "Like I said."

"Frey, sjolering..." Valdís sighed, and Frey wrinkled his nose. His mother adding Hrimska to the sentence was a cause for concern. "I don't like to be that kind of mother, but you need to stop wandering around aimlessly like this."

Frey's frown deepened.

"... What?"

"You've made no progress, have you? I'm worried you're letting your life slide by without doing something with it."

"I—"

"If you were doing well or made progress somewhere we would have heard about it," she interrupted him as softly as she could possibly manage. "Had your land expanded, we would have heard of it. Had you been successful business-wise we would have heard of it. People talk, as you know. And it's not like we don't speak to Lord Hargreaves regularly about the trade."

Frey gritted his teeth, but said nothing as his mother continued.

"Believe me, we're not very popular either." Her eyes suddenly looked more tired than Frey was used to. "Things are different nowadays than they were before, and our reputation is very much on the line with every move we make. In order for us to regain the trust of people we need to do our absolute best at all times, meaning we need to be perfect both socially and professionally.

"I'm..." Frey trailed off before he could protest. Things hadn't gone great, he had to admit as much. If they had, he wouldn't need to have those private encounters with people like Carrigan and the other lords. Not that they seemed to amount to anything anymore.

"I'm sure you're trying." Valdís' voice softened again. "And I think everyone's a little more unfair to you, in all honesty. Not that we blame you, since you weren't even aware of the situation, but we did our best to help the townspeople when they were in need, and they remember that. They're still cautious, but they're giving us a chance to make amends."

"And I'm... Most likely like my father?" Frey whispered as he thought back to Marius' comment about the rumours he'd heard. How people were concerned he would turn into a greedy monster as well.

"We all know that wouldn't be a bad thing even if that was the case, but others don't, and they judge you accordingly since..." Valdís lowered her gaze as her words failed her, and Frey noticed the sorrow that'd overtaken her expression as she folded her hands again. "... Well, since you and Claus were so close."

A lump of choking pain crushed Frey's chest. He'd thought he would be prepared to talk about it this time, but it was as hard to handle as always.

"It wasn't his fault," he whispered, barely so anyone could hear.

"We know." Annarósa's voice was unusually clear, a little too indifferent for Frey to believe it was genuine. "I think many do, to be honest. But no one actually knows what happened, so they use whatever proof they have."

And that half-assed proof was what they judged Frey by as well, of course. It was either that or simply losing all respect for him as soon as his father disappeared. There was no positive side to it. How could a monster or an heir to nothing amount to something in the world he lived in?

He glanced down at the baby in his arms.

"... I've always focused on my job," he said, voice a little louder this time. "I haven't spent time on many other things, to be honest. The horses I suppose, but not much else, so admittedly things are a bit slow."

The others were silent, much to Frey's dismay and somehow dark amusement.

Perhaps his ambitions really were broken beyond repair. He'd thought it was just a slump, and he'd get back up once people had forgotten about everything, but maybe that would never happen. Maybe he really was walking around aimlessly, or grasping for something he wouldn't be able to reach anymore.

"Well, horses aren't so bad," Sigveig signed to him, and he tried smiling but could barely manage it.

"Family's never been an option then?" Annarósa asked, oddly enough as she could probably guess the answer.

"No." Frey kept staring at the baby. "It's never even occurred to me. I've just... Gotten used to being alone. At least not letting anyone too close."

"Maybe it's time you did?" Valdís suggested, and Frey's mind flashed to Marius in an instant before he could regret it. "Actually, we wanted to talk a little about that, regarding your birthday gift."

Frey narrowed his eyes.

"You're giving me a family as a birthday gift?"

"No." Valdís looked amused. "But your sisters and I have discussed things lately, and we've agreed that you should take the country house."

"... Why?" Frey's gaze shifted between the three of them before focusing back on his mother. "It was given to you, wasn't it? It's one of few places we have left."

"But we need to stay here in town for repairs and keeping up appearances," Valdís countered. "And, well... It's an opportunity for you to move on. A place of your own, whether it's for a family or just for you."

"I'm assuming there are no servants left there, though?" Frey raised an eyebrow. "Given the skeleton staff you're working with."

"Unfortunately, no." Valdís scrunched up her nose. "But Cyrus has been there a couple of times for some light upkeep and making sure there are no intruders around."

She paused, possibly hesitating to utter the next words.

"So if you would like to move there and hire servants, you would have to pay them yourself."

Frey's mood sank again. So it was another underhanded way to suggest he started working again? To stop living off of Damien's money and get his life together.

It was infuriating, perhaps because they had a point. It was a well intentioned gesture but to Frey they might as well have slapped him in the face and called him a failure.

"Has Damien spoken to you?" he had to ask. "Does he consider me a burden now?"

"Not as far as we've heard, but you are a grown man and I imagine he finds it a little strange that you're still staying in his mansion."

"Well I've been working there for years." Frey clenched his jaw, straining his neck to keep his hands still. "I've never had a reason to move, and whether people like it or not, I do plan on continuing my job there."

The women exchanged looks again, to his further frustration.

"You're right, I suppose." Valdís smiled apologetically, seemingly giving up. "We were just worried, is all."

"And we weren't planning on selling the country house regardless, so it'll still be there," Annarósa added. "Should you, you know... Find someone."

Another thought of Marius forced its way into Frey's head.

"I won't just give up on what I want though," he mumbled, trying to shake the idea. "Getting my former life back and all. Even if I could find someone. Even if my ambitions turn out to be futile in the end."

Ingrid suddenly made a noise, and Frey gave Annarósa a concerned look before the noises turned into whines.

"Maybe she's hungry," Esther suggested and Annarósa nodded at her in agreement before walking over to pick the baby up.

Frey felt an odd sensation as he handed her over. He wouldn't have minded holding her a bit longer. It had been a kind of comfort, he guessed. A somewhat bittersweet kind, with her proving that his old family was still around and growing, and he'd always have them even when they all went in different directions, but she also served as a reminder that people were indeed making changes to their lives, which had always been a complicated subject for Frey. Especially as he was currently getting nowhere.

Of course he wasn't. Even when trying to push himself to get back on his feet it seemed futile. His energy had been drained all year for obvious reasons, and people weren't making it easier for him. Everywhere he went there was either whispering about his unfortunate scar or about the very event or, as mentioned earlier, about his horrid father and possibly horrid self.

Maybe Carrigan was right. Maybe it had never been about Frey. The respect people had shown him came from him being related to his father, and nothing else. Chances were it would be even harder to build a good reputation from that than if he'd just been previously unknown to others, so how would he bounce back? Like his mother said, she and his sisters had to be perfect and adhere to everything society expected of them no matter what, and if that's what they had to do, he'd have to be even better.

He licked his lips with a sigh as he looked up again. The others were talking about baby related things, Sigveig seemingly telling a story about someone she knew with children and the others smiling at what Frey guessed was a cute event.

"I think I'll head off to wherever I'm staying for the night until evening," he said and rose from the chair. "Is it upstairs?"

"I'll show you," Sigveig signed and stood up as well, and they walked out into the hallway again and up the stairs.

The room was, in comparison to the one he had in the Hargreaves mansion, laughably small. No decorations, no mirrors, just a bed and a writing desk.

"Well, I'll..." He turned to Sigveig, blending a smile and a grimace. "... I'll manage."

Sigveig showed a concerned frown however, and Frey soon mimicked it in confusion.

"They're grieving too," she then signed and Frey's frown quickly turned into a forced look of surprise, but she wasn't buying it. "They hide it, like you're doing now. Mother talks about the past a lot, trying to remember the good times as a way to handle it. I think Annarósa and Esther talk about it when we're not around."

Frey sighed. He could have figured. He knew how to spot subtle hints too, even in his family.

Sigveig raised her hands again, seemingly hesitating at first, and Frey tensed up as she continued with a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

"Was that a servant you were talking to when you got here?"

Was there any point trying to deny it? They had grown up together. If Frey could spot a servant, so could Sigveig.

"Damien ordered him to come with, to look at horses." He raised an eyebrow while replying back, supporting his gestures by articulating with his lips to make it easier for her to read them. "So?"

"You just seemed to enjoy his company." Sigveig raised two eyebrows back. "Very unusual for you, even among people like us."

Frey rolled his eyes.

"What are you implying?"

Sigveig sighed, frowning at Frey's feigned obliviousness but still looked more worried than annoyed.

"I'm not saying being nicer to servants is a bad thing, but maybe now is not the best time to start associating with the lower class either."

"That's..." Frey drew a silent breath. "... Not what's happening. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"My brother, who hates talking to people, who I spotted smiling and talking to a servant while his family is under constant pressure to be perfect, high society people."

It wasn't supposed to upset him the way it did. Frey was already aware of it, wasn't he? He'd gone through the whole inner monologue of finding Marius an inconvenience due to his good looks, charm and pleasant company yet ultimately being a person Frey could never have a proper, friendly relationship with. He knew that, but then he'd let his guard down. He'd been allowed to laugh and enjoy himself, perhaps even beginning to think it was a feeling worth exploring.

And he was kicked to the ground for it immediately.

"I'm going to rest now," he signed to his obnoxiously inquiring sister. "And I suggest you take your ridiculous claims with you when you leave."

He paused.

"And while they're not true, you shouldn't tell the others about your theories. Don't make them worry about nothing."

Sigveig tilted her head innocently, locking eyes with him.

"What's the harm? Should be fine since they're not true."

Frey folded his arms before leaning forward to let his sister read his lips properly, though he already made the word clear with his one sign.

"Snitch."

Sigveig clicked her tongue, unimpressed as she raised a hand again.

"Wretch."

Frey looked at her aghast as she turned around to walk away.

"Mine wasn't even that mean!"