A low, monotonous and tormented whine had resounded through Frey's mind all morning. It was his way of working through the pain of having to be forced out of bed and more or less dressed in his sleep before being dragged outside long before his day used to begin. It was a justified and understandable kind of whining, but since he'd promised Marius not to make a fuss about living on their own, he had to use his inside voice.

So he rubbed his eyes, slowly beginning to register their surroundings as they walked hand in hand down the road towards the Fjærhaugs' farm. While last night's clouds had given way for a clear, sunny sky, the rain had still done a number on the road and they had to swerve on multiple occasions to avoid thick mud and puddles.

"Don't think he should drive his cart through this," Frey barely uttered through his thick, still half asleep voice. "He'll get stuck."

"Ah, good morning," was Marius' reply to that. "I was beginning to think you would sleep through the whole day and I'd eventually have to carry you around."

"Is it too late for that?" Frey would not have minded. He had no desire to go to a farm full of animals, as if a stable wasn't unsanitary and loud enough, to do chores he'd never done before, and so early in the morning, too. "I can easily fall asleep again."

"You'll feel better soon enough," Marius promised him, and Frey couldn't be more certain he was lying. "You just need to find something to focus on."

"You know I never agreed to this, right?" Frey finally had to say it, even though he knew it made him sound like a first class ingrate. "I was going to live on my own, sure, and do chores around my house, but here you are, expecting me to help others with chores as well?"

Marius' eyes crinkled from his grimace, but seemed sympathetic enough.

"Just this once. As thanks for letting the horses stay there until our stable is clean."

Frey couldn't argue against that, and he hated it.

To his great relief the farm was smaller than he'd imagined. If he wasn't wrong, The Fjærhaugs had three children out of five who were capable of helping around the house and fields, so how much work could there possibly be left?

"This is a surprise." Vidar met up with them outside what seemed to be the stable. "I did not expect to see you here, Lord Clausson."

Frey sent Marius a look, hoping his disgruntlement shone through despite it not showing on his face.

"Well, I was under the impression, mainly because Marius outright told me so, that you needed help from both of us and since we're grateful for keeping my horses here for the time being, it's the least I could do."

"And we'd never turn down help, of course." Vidar grinned before turning to walk inside the stable while Frey grabbed Marius' arm to keep him from following.

"What was that?" He tried to keep his voice low and calm despite being plenty annoyed with the man in front of him. "They didn't think I'd come?"

Marius looked sheepish, but if Frey wasn't wrong there was that infuriating amusement in his eyes too.

"I didn't tell them in case you'd rather shoot me than having to come along, but if I'd told you that they weren't expecting you, you wouldn't have come."

"You tricked me." The inner whining wanted to come forward as Frey looked aghast. "You tricked me to come here and do servant chores even though I didn't have to."

"Don't be so dramatic." Marius looked reproachful, but gestured towards the house. "Just say hi to the horses and then head inside to ask Mrs. Fjærhaug if you can assist her there. At least you won't be cold."

Frey stifled a mocking repeat of Marius' words under his tongue before following him to the horses. For what it was worth, he couldn't complain too much about the environment. The place was fairly clean, with as decent space as three surprise additions of horses could allow, and best of all there were no rat nests in sight.

"Afraid we haven't gotten to brushing them yet," Vidar commented where he stood next to his own horse, and while Frey agreed it was a tragedy indeed, he did not show it. "We still have a lot to get done, but with the two of you here I'm sure we will be done in no time."

"Better hop to it then." Marius beamed, ignoring Frey's subtle stare of most-definitely-secretly-upset where he stood next to Tea For Two; currently the only creature in the world who seemed to understand him.

But very well. He'd go help Mrs. Fjærhaug.

No one answered when he knocked on the door. He waited a short while before knocking again, waiting as patiently as a Frey could before becoming annoyed. She was home, wasn't she?

Finally, the door opened and Mrs. Fjærhaug peered out at him, with one toddler in her arms and an older child tugging at her dress.

"Oh, Lord Clausson." She blinked as if in disbelief, but her smile seemed genuine and she gestured for him to come inside. "My, it's been quite some time, and... To be honest I'm not sure I've ever seen you here."

"Yes, it was more my father's task, I'm afraid." Frey looked heart-wrenchingly apologetic for what he was not the slightest sorry about. "But I hope to still be welcome, and since Marius is assisting your husband outside, I thought I'd ask you if there's anything I can help with in here?"

"You—?" She halted her sentence, going through it in her head likely to avoid offending him with the suggestion he knew nothing about how a normal household worked. "I can't ask that of you, Lord Clausson."

It was no wonder. Frey knew nothing about performing tasks on a farm, and she knew it. He knew it. Vidar had to know it and Marius of all people was well aware, yet he'd been the one to suggest it. But if anything, it just made Frey feel bad. He knew he was in over his head, but now he was forcefully plunged into the worst part of staying at the country house, and he'd be useless. He'd only humiliate himself this way.

"I'd hate to just sit idle inside my house while Marius is here, anyway." He still brightened his expression into a smile. He just had to fake it and hope for the best, he supposed. "So if there's anything, Mrs. Fjærhaug, I'm sure I can be of some assistance."

"Oh, just call me Revna." Revna still looked doubtful, but she looked over her shoulder towards what appeared to be the kitchen. "And... If you're certain, though you should of course not feel forced to, we were just preparing breakfast."

The inner whining made a comeback, and Frey wondered how to tell her in the most humble way that he did not know the first thing about a kitchen, evidenced by last night's proof that neither he nor Marius knew what they were doing as far as cooking was concerned.

Like he'd suspected earlier though, Revna was on the same page, and she instead gestured down at the child holding her skirt in a tight grip.

"Actually, I could prepare it just fine on my own, but it would be a great help if you could look after Eivind in the meantime."

Frey wasn't sure which one he preferred. He was lousy with food but he was equally clueless when it came to childcare, and children were loud and sometimes sticky.

He hadn't even opened his mouth though before the child holding on to his mother uttered a groan, holding on to her even harder, and she sighed.

"I..." She pursed her lips, reaching into a pocket on her apron to bring out a soft paint brush and hand it to the child. "... See, Eivind has some... Troubles with letting me go. At all."

The strained tone in her voice said enough, and Frey remembered how he'd clung to his father in a similar way when he was that age, not to mention the twins had screamed their lungs out when their father left the room those first years of their lives. So he supposed it was natural.

"It can be a bit much sometimes." Revna tried to laugh it off, perhaps so the boy wouldn't realise how exhausted she appeared to be. "Being followed and tugged at most of the time."

Frey nodded slowly, acknowledging it had to be strenuous for certain, but if all children were like that, it must be a thing parents got used to.

"Eivind, honey..." Revna tried. "This is Lord Clausson. Maybe you could, uh... Show him your room? I'm certain he'd love to see it."

Eivind only groaned again, persistently latching onto her while stroking the soft brush bristles up and down his cheek.

Revna gave Frey a weak smile.

"He... Doesn't really talk much, either..."

It caused Frey to raise an eyebrow. As far as he was aware, his reluctance to speak when he was a child had been considered strange, and Annarósa had been talkative enough for the three of them, not to mention the twins had undoubtedly not struggled with it growing up, or ever.

But there had to be children who were simply shy as well.

"It should not be a problem. As you know, my sister, Sigveig, doesn't speak either so I'm familiar with communicating in other ways." He finally looked at the boy properly, but did not receive eye contact back. "Enough so I can keep an eye on him, anyway."

"I couldn't ask for more." Revna exhaled in relief before waving for him to follow her further into the house. "Here, I'll show you."

They headed deeper into the house, passing through a corridor leading into more rooms than Frey could have anticipated, until they reached a near empty room save for a working bench, a single chair, and a stepladder.

"Oh," he uttered under a breath as he stepped inside to look around, awed by the view. Every inch of the walls had been painted in all kinds of colours and shapes. Some more vivid parts resembled figures like cats, birds, and sheep, while other parts were soothing, symmetric patterns in earthy colours. The whole room was lit up entirely by the sun peeking through a large window, turning the colours even more vibrant, and dancing branches cast a shadow that made part of one wall look like it was moving.

"So why don't you show Lord Clausson how you usually paint things?" Revna suggested to Eivind, who stood firm by her side, and Frey turned back to them.

"He painted all of this?"

"Yes, he'd spend all day in here if he could." Revna had begun gently bending the boy's fingers away from her dress. "So I thought perhaps he would like to do so now that someone can keep him company."

Frey tilted his head at Eivind, who had no interest in letting his mother go, and he doubted any other company would suffice at the time. Especially not when it was someone new.

"But I suppose I could stay, just while he shows you." Revna sighed, but gave Frey a look suggesting she did not intend to do so, and he returned a brief nod. If he could make Eivind focus on his passion for just a bit, that would be enough, and Frey knew about distractions. If he could put a whole carpentry out of business in just ten minutes of ego-stroking, deadline-missing blabber, he could keep a creative child in a room full of paint busy for five.

"I'm actually quite inexperienced as far as painting goes," Frey admitted, not even having to lie. "I was recently informed that a horse I'd drawn was so terrible the person in question could not stop laughing, so witnessing this, and by such a young artist, is remarkable to say the least."

Eivind did not show any sign of being flattered, instead running the paint brush along his skin in that soothing way while staring into nothing.

"I wouldn't know where to begin when it comes to paint either," Frey continued while walking up to the workbench where coloured powders, jars of oil, and brushes of various sizes were lined up in neat rows. "My horse is white— or, grey, really, but looks white— and I imagine I would have to begin with a white surface for that to work."

He knew that was not the case with oils. They were opaque enough to be largely unbothered, but with the existence of lighter paints like watercolours he could at least pretend to be clueless.

"Well, actually—" Revna began, but Frey sent her a discreet, sharp shake of his head, and she seemed to catch on. "Uh... I'm not good at describing it, and certainly not a painter myself, but..."

To Frey's amusement but simultaneous triumph, Eivind looked slightly annoyed as he finally let go of his mother with a judging look, and walked up to the workbench without paying Frey any attention. He quickly mixed white pigments with oil on a wooden palette before finding a spot next to the painted sheep, who were also white, which may have added to the boy's annoyance regarding Frey's doubts.

"Ah, I see..." Frey used his practised tone of admiration as Eivind began painting the head of a horse. "... This kind of paint covers up other colours anyway."

Eivind finally spared him a glance, but didn't look too bothered and Frey took it as a sign to sit down on the chair, only after carefully scanning for potential wet paint.

He had to admit watching Eivind paint was captivating. He'd never paid much attention to the process and he couldn't predict what would happen next, so he barely noticed as Revna slipped away to leave them alone. It wasn't until Eivind backed away to look at his progress that Frey snapped out of it.

"It's remarkable." He once again was not lying. For a child that age it was an impressive piece of art, and significantly better than what Frey and Marius had attempted before. "You must have painted a lot of horses before."

Finally, a response, as Eivind shook his head at him, and Frey smiled.

"Have you spent time around your parents' horse, perhaps? Do you think you could paint her as well?"

He'd barely uttered the words before Eivind stood up to mix paint again, and as he began on his second horse painting of the day, Frey crouched down next to him.

"Since your horse is a draft horse, she's bound to be sturdier than the white one and I believe her hooves are feathered, so that would be a good detail to add." He watched closely as Eivind incorporated his suggestions, genuinely awed as what he'd uttered in words had been translated onto a wall just like that.

Finally, a vague smile seemed to appear on Eivind's lips, and Frey looked around the room again. He reckoned his silence was appreciated, but there was something he had to ask.

"Are... All these animals yours? Or, your family's?"

A nod, and Frey could have figured as much.

"I imagine you've spent a lot of time around them." He glanced down at his hands. "Animals make better company sometimes, don't they? Than humans, I mean..."

There was a pause, and Eivind's hand faltered for a second, but then he nodded again.

Frey wouldn't pry more. He'd gotten the answer to his question, and he let the room fall into tranquillity again. He had no idea how long they'd been there. Just one horse with the amount of details on shadows and somewhat correct anatomy must have taken longer than he'd thought, but he didn't care. He wanted to sit there longer. He wanted to see it finished, or even see Eivind paint even more.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourselves," Marius' voice suddenly broke through the peace and quiet, and though Frey knew it was irrational, he still sent him a disgruntled look.

"Yes."

"Revna says breakfast is ready, so we were all about to sit down." Marius' eyebrows wrinkled into a light frown at the unexpected scowl, but knew Frey well enough to shake it off. "So why don't you take a break?"

Eivind didn't break focus for a second, and Frey's annoyance only grew at the thought of being torn away from there at the time.

"Well, we're not done yet. There are still a lot of details to add."

"I mean, you could come back after you've eaten." Marius chuckled, but it trailed off as Frey turned away. "It's still gonna be here, you know?"

"But we're. Not. Done."

Marius lingered for a while, likely uncertain if he wanted to push further than that.

"All right, I... Guess I'll wait for you at the table, then."

Frey gave him a brief hum in response, not even realising he'd already left since he'd returned his attention to the painting. Eivind had already moved on to the large, brown spots on the mare while he hadn't been looking, and now Frey had to guess in which order he'd done them.

Then a hand brushed against his cheek.

Against his scar.

He flinched away just as Eivind simultaneously retracted his hand.

"I..." Frey hesitated as the boy almost had the same, panicked expression, possibly having reached for it without thinking. "... It's fine, I'd just... Rather not have people touch it."

Eivind didn't take it badly, to Frey's relief. He only gave him a brief nod of understanding before picking up his brush again. The movements were slower though and not as certain, so Frey suspected the boy's gaze still rested somewhere else.

A brief glance from the corner of his eye confirmed as much, and Frey released a soft sigh before looking back at the colourful wall again.

"A ceiling crumbled." His voice was barely louder than a whisper, and he ended up fighting the urge to touch his scar as well. "I was lucky to just get hit by a smaller piece of debris."

Eivind wouldn't comment on it. It seemed unlikely he'd care that much about Frey's appearance or judge him for what happened, so there was no harm in opening up about it.

But then the boy shifted in his seat, pulling his knees up to point at a scraped part where a few, thin scabs were still barely fighting the healing process.

Frey had to let out a soft laugh.

"I guess we're pretty similar, then."