They were so in over their heads.

Frey stared out over the country house grounds, wincing at every hedge and weed covered path and withered, overgrown flower beds, and that was just the garden. He'd asked his mother to send their servants over for some minor preparations before their arrival, but apparently they'd chosen to focus on the interior.

"Looks like you got your work cut out for you," Vidar Fjærhaug, the farmer living closest to the estate and subsequently their neighbour, said after introducing himself to Marius. "I'd offer to help but there's a lot to do back home and I'm afraid time is working against me. It's already rather late."

"You're already doing so much for us," Marius insisted with his signature charm, gesturing to the big cart tied to Vidar's horse. "You brought us all this hay and food. We couldn't ask for more."

"Well, the money we would have made on selling our produce to the grocer in town cannot compare to using Lord Clausson's land for free just to provide for the two of you." He turned to Frey. "Whole family's happy to see you back, you know? The children began pretending this was a haunted house, what with the overgrown garden and dark windows all around."

"It's... Regrettable." Frey was unsure how to handle the criticism. His family's reason for not showing up for a few years was understandable and he had every chance to make a snarky remark or backhanded comment, all with a smile on his face, but he suspected Marius wanted him to be nice. Wholeheartedly, non threateningly nice. "Different properties aside, being surrounded by neglect leaves a poor impression of the whole area, and I as the land owner should take that seriously."

He conjured a disarming smile.

"But we will set things right again, and we're ever so grateful for your assistance with food and hay."

"Yes, speaking of that..." Vidar looked up at the sky while taking out a snuff box from his pocket, giving the dark cloud above them a nod. "... I fear rain's upon us, so I would get the hay inside soon if I were you two."

Frey grimaced as he tilted his head back to watch tree crowns being brutally tossed around by harsh gusts of wind. Quite the poor weather, then.

"Well, Revna's got her hands full with the children, so I best hurry back to save the laundry hanging outside." Vidar smiled apologetically, tucking what looked like a home-made blend under his lip before heading for the cart. "I'll leave this outside the stable so you won't have to carry the hay far, but you'll be on your own after that."

"It's much appreciated, Mr. Fjærhaug." Marius followed as Vidar steered towards the stable on the other side of the grounds, and Frey reluctantly did the same, trying to disregard how the wind was ruffling his hair beyond recognition. He had to help. He'd promised Marius that he wouldn't have to do everything.

"I don't need the cart until tomorrow, so use it as you please and I'll pick it up in the morning." Vidar gave Marius a pat on the shoulder and Frey a nod before gently spurring the old mare to head back home. "See you then."

"He's rather casual about your title, isn't he?" Marius' eyebrows were raised as he gathered up some hay in danger of being whisked away by wind, having waited until Vidar was out of earshot. "Any time I've heard people talk to you it's been 'What an honour, Lord Clausson' this, or 'Of course, my Lord' that. Even the Glowells use your title."

Frey shrugged, more occupied with hating how the hay so desperately wished to elope with the weather and how it stabbed his fingers despite him wearing gloves than with being upset about a farmer's way of referring to him.

"I've never talked to the Fjærhaugs before. I don't think anyone but my..." He paused, almost out of habit. "... My father paid much attention to them. He was hands-on about the way he worked and not too strict regarding titles, so it's likely they've assumed I'm no different."

"And you're fine with that?"

"We're reliant on their assistance while living here and I doubt there's any use in reminding them of social ranks anyway, so why make a fuss?"

Marius chuckled, letting an 'aw' slip out.

"Look at you being all nice, and all it took was a light countryside storm." He hoisted a stack of hay onto a wheelbarrow, pressing it down with one hand to keep it there, and Frey huffed before adding a significantly smaller pile on top of it.

"I'm just picking my battles, and without them we'd have to head into town for food every other day, so I'll let impoliteness slide."

"Nah, you're being nice," Marius insisted smugly, feeling the need to raise his voice above the howling wind before ruffling Frey's hair. "We'll make a peasant of you yet."

Frey scowled, resisting the urge to toss the hay in Marius' face.

"Let's just carry this inside while it's still dry and not scattered in the air."

The inside of the stable was worse than he'd thought, and he shuddered as the mildewy smell of two year old hay prickled his nose. The storage room had not been cleaned out properly, leaving the floor a mess of trampled dirt and aforementioned mouldy remains. There was no way he'd let the fresh hay anywhere near the room in that condition, which meant he'd have to clean it.

Of all places he'd rather not tidy up a stable, but it would be a poor start to living on his own if he had to leave things to Marius so soon, so he sucked in a breath before heading across the room to fetch a pitchfork.

Then he stepped on something soft, and each inch of his body froze as a family of rats scattered across the floor from the nest he'd just trampled on.

It took every muscle in his body, but he managed to stifle the mortified scream wanting to burst through his throat, instead calmly backing out of the room.

And bumping right into Marius.

"I think you're heading the wrong way." Marius gently nudged him forward again, but Frey refused.

"There are..." He had to swallow his pride. "... Rats."

"Oh." Marius didn't look too amused either, but he still headed through the door. "We should probably get a cat."

"And we need to clean up before carrying the new hay inside," Frey called after him, pretending the rats weren't much more of an inconvenience to him than the unsanitary condition of the stable. "I can do it, I'd just... Rather work without rats helping me."

"Well, good news." Marius emerged after a while. "I could only find one rat nest, probably because the rest of the floors are fairly free from nesting spots, can't speak for inside the walls though."

"At least that's someth—"

"Two wasp nests, though... In that room alone."

Frey didn't bother stopping his shoulders from sinking, and he uttered a low groan.

"I'll deal with those later," Marius comforted him before handing over the pitchfork he'd failed to grab earlier. "It's still spring so they're probably not even awake yet."

"Should we worry about diseases?" Frey had to ask as they got to work, frustration near immediate as his palms protested against the tool in his grip and the pungent, earthy smell almost leaving a taste in his mouth. "With rats and insects clearly thriving here."

Marius hummed in thought, stopping his sweeping to look around.

"I didn't think about that," he admitted, scratching his head and consequently leaving a strand of hay there, and Frey hoped to Ilara it was not a mouldy one. "Back at The BBT we mostly boiled water to scrub more thoroughly, but there was one time where Master Reimar and the grooms fumigated the building. I suppose it could be necessary here after two years of neglect."

"But the horses can't be here, then." Frey made a face, feeling the earlier frustration beginning to get the best of him. Just how overly complicated was everything supposed to be?

"No, if we want to clean the stable properly they'll need to stay somewhere else, and the nights are still cold." Marius looked equally troubled. "Perhaps the Fjærhaugs would be willing to lend us some room in their stable, assuming there is any."

"And we can be certain their stable isn't in an even worse—?"

Marius flicked his nose.

"Try again."

"... It would be very kind of them if they agreed, and they would be compensated for their hospitality."

"There you go."

"Can we get the three of them there before the rain, though?" Frey looked out the small, dirt obscured window. "And it's almost sundown."

"I'll take them," Marius offered. "Tea For Two has manners enough to walk on her own and Bon Bon will be tied to Lord Neigh."

Frey didn't like the idea of being left behind, but Marius was right in both of them going being unnecessary, so he chewed on his lip.

"I'll... Take care of the house, then? If we're leaving the stable cleaning for tomorrow?"

Marius nodded.

"Let's get this hay inside. We'll place it close to the entrance and hopefully away from rats, and then we'll carry the rest of what Mr. Fjærhaug left inside the house."

All the planning and being thrown back and forth with new ideas was messing with Frey's head, and he was already annoyed enough with how tedious every single instance had been so far, but he returned Marius' nod before walking back to the house with him.

Fortunately, as Frey had predicted, the inside wasn't so bad. Surfaces had been dusted, the floors were spotless and a generous amount of firewood had been stacked near the raised hearth. A note had been placed on the table informing them that the pantry had been stocked with grains, flour, an assortment of tea leaves, dried fruit, while a smaller amount of potatoes, carrots, jams, eggs and butter had been placed in the food cellar.

Frey winced as he read the note. He hadn't looked at what the Fjærhaugs had left them yet, but they'd been told it was also of a food origin and with this unexpected addition he was growing worried they would not be able to eat it all before it spoiled.

"So," Marius said as he'd looked around for a couple of seconds. "How many rooms are we closing off?"

Frey blinked.

"Closing... Off?"

"We're not heating up all of this." Marius gestured around them with a grimace. "With just the two of us I'd say we make do with just the kitchen and this dining room past the pantry."

Frey turned his head to follow where Marius was gesturing.

"Breakfast room."

"What?"

"That's the breakfast room. The dining room is the bigger one next to it."

"You're joking."

"Well if you want to be practical about it, shouldn't the dining room be prioritised since it has fewer windows, meaning less cold creeping in?" Frey at least knew that much about heat, though he hadn't quite counted on the lack of rooms before despite it suddenly seeming obvious. "We'll have to walk through either the hall or the breakfast room to get between them but it's not that cold."

Marius still shook his head at the ridiculousness of the house, but then looked up at the ceiling.

"What's above this room?"

Frey threw a glance towards the door to the side.

"Servants quarters, I'd assume" he said, cautiously as he suspected what Marius was implying. "For the kitchen staff. There's a stairwell past that door so they could enter here without passing by other rooms."

"Isn't that perfect?" Marius hurried over to open the door, looking up the dark, narrow stairwell. "The hearth will heat that floor as well, won't it? So we'll sleep there and won't have to carry a whole bed down here."

He gave Frey's wrinkled nose a reproachful look.

"With the size of your bed back at the BBT I'm guessing it's no different here, so we were never gonna be able to get one of those down here anyway. A servant's bed is good enough, just until summer gets here with its own warmth."

"And what about in here?" Frey folded his arms, refusing to feel bad about his reservations. "We're supposed to do everything but sleep in just this room?"

"Mostly, but it's not that bad." Marius gestured around them. "This kitchen is almost the size of my place, and we got a big hearth, this large table here in the middle, and the cabinets."

"How comfortable," Frey said through clenched teeth, back already aching from the idea of sitting on kitchen chairs whenever he wanted to rest, and Marius squinted in thought as if he read his mind.

"Some armchairs perhaps? And a table to go with them?"

"It would be better than nothing."

"Alright, then." Marius patted his shoulder. "You get on that while I leave with the horses. Better do it now before the rain comes."

Frey stifled an offended look that wanted to slip forth out of habit. He'd already stepped out of his comfort zone by briefly cleaning a floor but no matter how he pictured it, the idea of having to do heavy lifting on his own just didn't sound right.

"Sounds good," he said, voice blank and not agreeing with him. "I'll just... Go find tables to carry."

Marius looked like he was about to laugh again, but he cleared his throat to hide it.

"I'll be back soon, and then we'll have tea."

It was not a good enough reward. Far from it. Tea was a necessity and not something Frey should have to break his back in half to perform servant chores for.

He still headed for the library after Marius had left. It was the closest room with aforementioned armchairs and side tables, and he tried to look on the bright side that it was only on the other side of the hall. The hall that had not seemed so big and wide in the past, but as soon as Frey had entertained the idea of lugging furniture across it, it must have doubled in size.

The familiar sight as the door to the library swung open landed like a gut punch. Being the kind of person he was, Frey had naturally spent a lot of time there during the summers, with the exception of the year before when no one in the family had so much as entered the grounds. All other years had been happy memories, which unfortunately made the one bad year hurt even more.

He walked over to his bookshelves by reflex, having claimed several more than his sisters by accusing them of never reading books anyway, which was a lie, but the important thing was he'd won. For a moment he forgot what he came in there to do and instead ran a hand against the book spines, immediately stopping to wipe off unexpected dust.

So the servants had not found the time to dust the library, which made him dread the task that awaited him even more, but he still turned his head towards the furniture near Annarósa's bookshelf with a sigh. The armchairs, along with a matching couch, had been covered with sheets, making them look big and clumsy but to his comfort he knew their actual size wasn't too intimidating.

The problem was the tea table.

"Off with you," he muttered as he removed a stack of Valdís' books on Hrimskan mythology from the surface. She'd read those stories to them multiple times when they were younger despite Frey's reluctance to listen. His sisters may have enjoyed them, and thinking about it he was sure the Hargreaves twins would have loved to hear such stories, but personally he'd had enough of nixes and rås and unearthly ones for a lifetime.

He unthinkingly let out a low groan as he reached underneath the neglected piece of furniture. It was a good thing Marius wasn't there. He would have laughed at Frey's fumbling to find a good grip around the table and then end up doing it all by himself, which Frey would not have minded in the past, but now it would only make him look incompetent.

It was too wide for him to lift from above, and no matter how he tried to place his hands it felt like it could snap his arms one way or another if he attempted to carry it, but with some adjustments by using his elbow for support around one table leg and a brief push from his knee just to get it off the floor, he finally held it firm enough to carry it.

It was such a clumsy task. The table kept bumping into his thigh with every step, irking him in a disproportionate way and the points where it weighed down against his skin quickly turned sore.

So he put it down again.

Stupid table.

Pouting, he walked out into the entrance hall again, sighing at the massive area and the floor that would need cleaning eventually. How had servants managed to keep it so spotless? He could recall his sisters sliding across it on their stockings while pretending they were ice skaters, as if it was as slick and spotless as a frozen lake.

His eyes widened, and he looked back at the table inside the library with a near mocking smirk before heading for a supply closet, having to spend an embarrassing amount of time to find one as he'd never set foot inside such a room before.

At last, he found some rags suitable for his plan, and while he had to shudder just by holding them in his hands, he made his way back to the library to place them underneath the table's legs.

He could hardly believe it as he pushed the table out of the library and over the entrance floor. Things had worked out for him. He was moving a table. He was succeeding at physical labour. He was fucking invincible.

Marius would be so proud.

As soon as the table was in place he removed the rags to make it look like he'd carried the whole thing there himself without breaking a sweat, and he almost ran back to get the armchairs.

No, he thought to himself as he entered the library again, looking at the remaining furniture with growing hubris. Not the armchairs.

Admittedly it was a little heavy to push a whole couch across the entrance hall, and he had to shimmy it back and forth through the doorway between the breakfast room and the pantry, but it would be worth it. He'd much rather have a couch to lie down and suffer on properly rather than doing it half-assedly in an armchair.

By the time he was done he could almost deem the kitchen pleasant to look at. The couch and tea table gave it a more dignified look, and he found himself smiling while moving on to his next task.

That is, of course, until he realised it involved fire.

He sighed, trying to remember how Haddon had managed to light the fireplace in his room, hopefully unaware of how Frey had been staring at his process the days before they left. He was not going to embarrass himself and burden Marius with a cascade of questions about simply living life, so he'd resorted to observation instead.

Yet a hearth was not a fireplace, but what was the difference? This one was raised from the floor, but there were no openings where he could place firewood so he had to think back even further. He'd seen glimpses of a similar hearth at the BBT manor during Dyris' day when he'd almost been forced to bake before storming off, and that fire had been on top of the hearth, right?

In the end he settled for trial and error, as dumb as it sounded when it came to fire, but with the chimney being directly above the hearth it only seemed logical that the firewood would go underneath it. It still took longer than he imagined it should have, and before he'd gotten a poor excuse of a fire going he'd acquired several spots of soot on his hands, but at least the firewood smelled nice.

A heavy, rattling noise against the breakfast room's windows finally alerted him of the dreaded rain, turning out to be much heavier than expected, and he sucked air through his teeth, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth before walking over to squint into the darkness.

He couldn't see Marius anywhere. He could barely see at all. Was he even close? Had he stayed at the Fjærhaugs to wait the worst of it out? Or was he on his way back, getting thoroughly drenched out there?

Frey walked towards the entrance hall. There had to be an umbrella somewhere. He'd go and find Marius with a lantern and make sure he wouldn't be cold for longer than necessary.

He came to a halt soon after, turning to look towards the kitchen.

Was it all right to leave the fire like that? Fireplaces seemed to do well even without supervision, but hearths?

His eyes darted between the window, the hearth, and the door to the entrance hall. Why did doing everything himself have to be so damn complicated?

As an answer to his unspoken prayer however, the front door was opened a moment after and Frey met up with a drenched-as-predicted Marius, whose attempt at cheerfulness was poor even for him.

"Well, I was not dressed for the weather, it seems."

"What about the horses?" Frey asked before he could pretend to care more about Marius' unfortunate condition than the whereabouts of his beloved equines. "Did the Fjærhaugs let them stay?"

"That family is too good for us." Marius' smile was more genuine that time, and he pulled his hair back to rid his forehead of wet tendrils. "It might be a little cramped, but we'll sort things out better tomorrow. I'll go get them in the morning and help out with some chores over there as a thank you, and Mr. Fjærhaug will collect his cart afterwards. He also offered to help us with the fumigation as long as we get the supplies ourselves."

Frey breathed out. At least something was going their way.

"I'm gonna take these off," Marius interrupted his thoughts, and Frey's ears immediately reddened as he gestured down at his wet clothes. "Last thing I need right now is a cold."

"You're gonna do it here?"

"In the entrance hall?" Marius raised an eyebrow. "No, I was hoping for something warmer."

Frey scrunched up his face.

"Right. Well... I might be struggling a bit with the fire."

"Ah." Marius tried to look surprised, which made Frey feel even worse. "Let's take a look, then."

He then booped Frey's nose, showing off his soot stained fingertip after to alert Frey of a spot he'd missed when trying to wipe the persistent spots off earlier.

Fortunately, whatever Frey had managed in terms of heat at least contributed to the proper fire Marius started with little effort. Or at least that's what Frey was told.

"There, just gotta keep this running and we'll be warm in no time." Marius looked pleased as he rose from the floor to stretch his back, turning to the new additions in the room with wide eyes. "And you found a whole couch?"

Frey could finally relish in pride despite his nose now being tinged red after having to scrub it free from soot.

"Of course. Not like it was har—" His words choked as Marius unceremoniously began undressing, and he turned his gaze away without thinking.

"I'm not shy, you know." Marius' voice was amused as he must have noticed what Frey's interrupted sentence and lack of attention meant. "Not that you need to look, but it seems inconvenient if you're gonna avoid me from now on whenever I don't have a shirt on."

"Well, it's not just your shirt though, right?" Frey tried to look his way as if to prove he didn't care, but just a glimpse of Marius' bare chest in the warm, dancing light from the fire instantly forced his head to turn in another direction. "Just trying to be respectful."

"Why don't you get me a towel or something so I can dry off?" Marius' voice brimmed with amusement. "And a blanket perhaps so I don't have to feel embarrassed, because that's something I worry about."

Frey suspected sarcasm and responded with a curled upper lip, but still got up to find what had been asked of him.

Heat flushed his cheeks as he walked up the stairs to the servant quarters, barely reacting to the mediocrity of his surroundings while picking out some towels in dire need of airing from a wardrobe and the largest blanket he could find from a sheeted bed. It's not that he hadn't expected to see Marius undressed at some point, and it was certainly not the first time he'd seen people without clothes. His whole deal with Carrigan and the other lords throughout the years had depended on it.

But this was Marius. Someone he cared about and had certain, affectionate feelings for. As it turned out, it made a difference. He didn't need more smugness from Marius' side though, so while walking down the stairs again he drew a deep breath to keep his composure.

"Here." He hadn't meant to toss the whole blanket in Marius' face so forcefully where he sat on the couch, but he'd misjudged the force in his arm enough for Marius to respond with a muffled 'oof' as it drowned his head.

So much for composure.

"I could leave if that's your preference." Marius frowned while freeing himself from the fabric. "But this is the only heated room right now and like I said, I don't fancy a cold."

"It's not a problem." Frey finally mustered up the energy to find his acting skills again. "Just wasn't sure how comfortable you felt about undressing."

"Right."

Marius still took the time to wrap the blanket around his waist before removing the rest of his clothes, but it didn't help Frey much as he still found it hard to tear his gaze from Marius' upper body as soon as the man looked away.

"Do you want help with your back— or... your hair?" He offered before considering the transparency of his wish to get closer, but for once Marius let it slide with just a genuine smile.

"Sure." He handed a smaller towel to Frey, who positioned himself behind him to begin drying the wet curls. "Don't rub it though. Just squeeze it."

Frey didn't focus much on the hair. His eyes were wandering much lower than that, but fortunately his hands were willing to work without a functioning mind. Unlike the other men he'd encountered before, Marius' body was built sturdier, which he supposed was expected from someone who worked with said body all day, but it was enough for his gaze to linger on his back muscles regardless.

"That wet, huh?" Marius suddenly asked, and Frey retracted the towel, realising he must have zoned out for a while. "It feels pretty good though, but if you want to keep rubbing my head you could do with just your hands."

"Rub... Your head?"

"Because it feels good, you know?" Marius glanced over his shoulder. "Rubbing, or kneading certain spots."

Frey was speechless at first, thoughts wandering elsewhere unintentionally, but his memories finally forced him back as he recalled his father kneading his mother's back sometimes.

"Get your mind out of there." Marius pretended to reprimand him. "I meant above the waistline."

"I wasn't thinking... That." Frey whacked the towel against his head. "I was reminded of my mother's recurring back pains and how my father used to help her with those."

"A high class lady with back pains?"

"I guess so? Why?"

"Unlike me who strains my body every day, it sounds strange your mother, who likely has manners enough to keep a straight back, would suffer from such ailments, but maybe she just enjoyed the feeling."

"Probably." Frey found his hands having lowered from Marius' head to the back of his neck without thinking, and he frowned. "Do you have back pains?"

"My muscles get stiff now and then, yes, but it's part of the job."

Frey looked down at his fingertips, noting how they'd gotten wet by drops of water still coating Marius' neck and shoulders.

"You missed these," he said, voice softer than he'd intended, and he took the opportunity to stroke the towel down over Marius' skin, heart banging against his ribcage and causing his hands to tremble. He couldn't feel the heat Marius usually radiated, but brushing against his body with just a piece of fabric between them still sent a burning sensation through Frey's hands, clouding his mind with yearning.

So he decided to try it. He let the towel drop and pressed his fingers into the sides of Marius' neck, eliciting a groan of pleasure he was not prepared for, causing another jolt of heat to surge through his body.

"I could get used to that, for sure," Marius mumbled under a breath, and Frey, though once again experiencing a case of the blushies, moved his hands further down to ease the tension in Marius' shoulders.

Then his eyes were drawn to Marius' upper right arm, where a myriad of white lines decorated a larger part of it. Sharp scars from what had to be scratch marks stretching and overlapping vertically and horizontally all over, fading the lower they reached.

"... What are these?" Frey squinted through the flickering light, following the thin lines with a finger and Marius looked back at him again, then turned his attention to the scars before letting out a soft laugh as though he'd forgotten they were there.

"I had one nightmare of a cat when I was little. Always clawed his way up that arm for some reason. Guess he liked the view from my shoulder that much."

Frey's eyebrows wrinkled, and his hand paused, hovering over the much too prominent -yet surprisingly thin- scars for common cat scratches.

"Was it a kitten, or something? I don't know if even cats have paws this small."

"In the beginning, of course." Marius shrugged, turning his head forward again. "But he was small even as an adult, I suppose."

"I see..." Frey lingered on his words, eyes wandering over the puncture marks that were slightly askew from others corresponding to the same paw, and he forced his lips shut. He'd promised Marius not to pry if he didn't want to talk, and he was certain he'd simply spent too much time around the Hargreaves twins to think logically.

So he blamed the shiver running down his spine on the cold around them, and not on the fact that Marius' childhood cat had apparently been equipped with thumbs.

"Sounds like you're not jumping with joy about us getting a cat, then?" he asked instead, trying to shake his uneasiness and force the goosebumps to settle by continuing the massage. "I've never been much of a cat person myself, so that could make things difficult."

"I do love cats," Marius protested. "I just had a violent one before."

Frey turned what began as a heavy sigh into a low exhale before letting it escape his lips.

"We should ask the Fjærhaugs if they know someone with cats to spare tomorrow. I'm sure farmers have litters now and then."

"Yeah..." Marius let out a yawn at that, leaning his head back against Frey's stomach. "... Tomorrow."

"Tired?"

"Painfully, and the stroking isn't helping, but don't you dare stop."

"May—" Frey tried to stifle the suggestion under his tongue, but it broke free. "Maybe I could continue when we're in bed? It would probably heat you up better, too."

Marius' brief silence suggested the blushies might be contagious, but he recovered too soon in Frey's opinion.

"No doubt." He turned his head to nuzzle against Frey's stomach, corners of his lips curved upwards. "But we should probably eat something first."

Frey allowed the indeed present yet previously suppressed hunger surge forward, having to agree with Marius' suggestion while wishing he'd saved the verbalising of his more intimate idea for later.

"So... What are you making?" Marius asked, not without an appropriate smirk, and Frey released the swallowed down sigh from earlier.

"Me?"

"Well my mother doesn't let me inside her kitchen anymore for a reason."

"Ah..." Frey uttered bitterly, trying to recall if he'd ever set foot in a kitchen before to begin with. "... So, that might be a problem."