It never stopped hurting.

Frey's chest stung as he walked down the stairs, but as always he wouldn't show it. He refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt to hear what was being said behind his back. Instead he put on a beaming smile that would put a saint to shame before entering the large parlour.

One, two, four, he counted as his gaze swept the nearby area. Four people had turned to whisper as soon as he'd entered the room, and more of them followed that example the further inside he walked. Did they think they were discreet?

His pleasant grin remained steadfast as he greeted a group of gentlemen from Wyrmdon with a nod. They nodded back of course, but Frey still knew what they would say to each other as soon as he'd turned his back. Even after a year, that's all they could talk about whenever they spotted him.

He received a glass of wine, masking a sigh of relief by bringing it to his lips. He'd already had two of them right before leaving his room as preparation for what he guaranteed would be a nightmarish evening, but he doubted it would be enough. After some consideration he wondered if it would have been for the best to not attend the party after all. Problem was, it was hosted by Damien, and Frey was expected to be there.

So he sat down on a chair near the window, adjusting his seat so the right side of him faced away from the crowd, successfully blocking the view of his scar and disfigured ear.

Not that it seemed to keep gossip at bay.

Of course, his ear's misfortune wasn't the only piece of gossip going around as soon as his name was mentioned. The West Kerilia scandal had caused more than one huge dent in his reputation, despite Frey having been more or less a victim of it rather than someone to blame. The fact that he was related to the late tyrant of a town chief over there had been more than enough.

He greeted another group of self contented lords passing by with the same dashing smile as before. They showed appropriate manners by nodding back, but didn't stop to talk, instead hurrying further away while one mumbled something to the other.

Frey had tried to convince himself it didn't bother him. That he was used to it, but still downed his glass without a trace of the grimace he wished to make.

"Oh, Lord Clausson." A thin woman only a year or two older than Frey walked up to him, and he rose from his chair. "How are you this evening?"

"Just splendid," Frey lied, like most of the time. "And I'm happy to see you, Lady Brimble. How is the family?"

"They're quite well, thank you. It's a shame my husband couldn't be here tonight." Her gaze drifted towards Frey's right and he pursed his lips. They really couldn't keep their eyes off, could they? Not that they ever had, but prior to the incident it had been because of his stunning looks. Not because of half an ear and an unfortunately large scar across his cheek.

There was a line though, and Frey wouldn't let such obvious, inappropriate gawking slide quite so easily.

"Lady Brimble, is something wrong?" His next smile was an endearing one, but the barely-subtle hostility in his voice made the lady's gaze snap back to his eyes again with a flustered look.

"Oh, no, of course not!" She shook her head and Frey's smile widened so his nose crinkled.

"Splendid."

He turned to walk away, dropping the smile instantly as he did and headed for the hallway, not without grabbing another glass of wine. He was so tired of it. A glance in any direction revealed people eyeing him as he walked by, and their expressions said it all.

The poor Lord Clausson, not only did his father somehow leave him disfigured but he also left him without wealth to inherit.

He exited the mansion and walked through the garden to get some fresh air. His legs suddenly seemed heavier for some reason, and his breaths were painfully visible as puffs of smoke in the cold air.

Unfortunate scars and lack of wealth aside, no rumours were worse than the ones about his father's tragic passing, and how he'd somehow deserved it.

It wasn't true.

His father had never been the monster everyone claimed he'd been. Rather the opposite. Not only to Frey, but the whole town had flourished during his reign, only changing abruptly by the end. That's why Frey refused to humour those claims. His father had been a good man. Something had been off, and they'd seen proof of that when the nightmarish blight attacked.

People didn't listen to vague rumours about blightish, supernatural creatures however, and if blame could be placed on a person in charge to justify blood being spilled that was even better. Not that Lord Clausson ever had time to be left to the mercy of West Kerilia's people in the first place. He'd met his doom in a much more sinister and otherworldly way.

Good riddance, they'd all whispered at the end of every rumour, and Frey had heard it every time.

He stopped by the shed behind the stables and bit into his lower lip, then he let out a louder than expected whimper before leaning against the wall, squeezing his eyes together to fight back tears. He failed miserably, and cursed under his trembling breath as his hands began convulsing.

It was too much. Had they no shame at all? How could they say such things even if they thought he couldn't hear them?

"Father..." he whispered, voice choking as he did. His heart couldn't get over it. He couldn't just stop missing him. People didn't notice, or didn't care to perhaps. They expected Frey to show the same resentment as they did towards his father's actions so they didn't even consider his grief.

He sank down against the wall and buried his face in his knees, body slowly rocking back and forth. His shoulders trembled as more tears welled up in his eyes and he bit into his lip harder. He hated crying. Not only did it cause his eyes to swell and his cheeks to get blotchy, but he couldn't afford the display of weakness. He was always confident, often to the point of arrogance.

"Lord Clausson?" a voice asked, and Frey jumped.

"... Stable boy," he acknowledged, voice croaking without permission and he turned his head away.

Just perfect.

Marius witnessing his embarrassing night at the tavern and then needing to drag him out of a ditch had been bad enough, but now he'd caught him crying by a shed as well? It was more than Frey preferred to live through.

"Is... Is something wrong?" Marius' voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Frey discreetly tried to wipe away tears with one of his sleeves. "The weather's pretty cold for a light attire like that."

Frey spared his waistcoat and the thin fabric of his shirt a glance. Had bothering with putting on a coat really been too much to ask of himself? Nevertheless, he responded with a weak huff.

"I just needed air."

To his dismay and weirdly enough comfort, Marius stepped closer and sat down next to him.

"I reckon you're gonna say it's not my business, but... Can I ask what happened?"

Frey side-eyed him without a reply, and Marius pursed his lips with a sigh.

"Did someone wear the same clothes as you?"

"How could they?" Frey muttered, discreetly brushing off his cheek. "They were made specifically for me."

Marius chuckled.

"Yeah, it... It was a joke."

Frey wasn't big on jokes. He rarely understood them or found them funny even if he did, but he had to imagine the current situation did not call for one.

"If it's laughs at my expense you want, then feel free to join the others." He sent a glare towards the main building before redirecting it to Marius. "I'm afraid I've had enough of it for today."

"They're not really laughing. They're—" Marius began, eyes widening as he regretted it immediately. "... Uh... I mean— No, I... Nevermind."

"I'm not stupid," Frey mumbled dryly. "And it's not like I can't hear them."

Marius swallowed, and he stared down at his knees.

"So that's... What's upsetting you, huh?"

"Not usually," Frey lied with a shrug, unsure why he engaged in the conversation. Marius didn't need to know about his feelings. No one did. That was the point. Frey had always been so good at keeping his emotions hidden, but it appeared he'd reached a limit. "Just... Right now, it seems. I'm growing tired of it."

"I... Heard some of them talk earlier," Marius said, voice low and not without hesitation. "About you, and..."

He trailed off, so Frey filled in the rest.

"... My father."

Marius nodded, and the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened.

"It seemed strange to me. I don't know many details about what happened back then, but... Even before that I still knew who he was, and the man they're all describing now doesn't sound like him."

He turned his head to look at Frey, though the latter only saw it through the corner of his eye.

"I'm not supposed to speak disrespectfully about tonight's guests, but I think it's tasteless of them to talk like that around you, if at all. It just... It's got to hurt. It sounded like you and your father were really close, and for them to act like that..."

Frey's eyes narrowed and he allowed a not so sweet smile on his lips.

"But haven't you heard? My father was a monster, so how could I possibly mourn him?"

"Lord Clausson..."

"If you're allowed to make jokes at times like this, then why can't I?"

Marius did not look impressed by his poor attempt at humour, but Frey still continued.

"It's what I'm supposed to think, after everything that happened. I'm expected to resent him for all he did as if he was a bad person. It's like they forget we were family, with all that entails."

"Well... They do bring it up sometimes, when they consider the possibility that you might—" Marius interrupted himself again. Frey turned his head to look at Marius properly, eyes narrowing.

"... They think I'll end up like him?"

Marius looked uncomfortable where he sat, but nodded slowly.

"He raised you after all, at least most of the time..."

Frey thought back to all the whispers. So it hadn't just been pity in their eyes. Had it been worries? Concern that young Lord Clausson would somehow do to their town what his father had done to West Kerilia.

When Frey didn't respond, Marius continued.

"Look, I apologise, I— I shouldn't have brought it up, and— And I know it doesn't mean much when someone like me says it but... Of all people and their stories, I'd trust yours. You knew him better than anyone in this town so... I think—If you say so, I believe he really was a good man."

Frey smiled briefly, letting out a trembling breath at the memory of his father. The version before last year's events.

"He was." He looked down at his strained hands with a wistful frown. "There were... Things he never really understood about me, but... He tried. He loved me. He loved all of us."

Tears returned to his eyes and he squeezed them shut to keep them from running, not that Marius couldn't tell what was going on. To make matters worse, his hands began twitching again, and he grabbed his arm, clawing his nails into it to make it stop.

"Are you— Is something wrong with your—" Marius began, but Frey would not have that conversation.

"No."

He turned his head away again in a futile attempt to hide his expression, and Marius gently placed a hand on his shoulder only to retract it almost instantly.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot..." He trailed off and seemed to consider something. "Uh, so I... Know I'm not good with words. Not by your standards at least. I've managed to overstep so many times already whenever we've talked, but despite that... You know, I make a pretty good shoulder to cry on, if you'd ever decide that touching a servant wouldn't kill you."

Frey turned his head back to look at Marius. It proved harder than he'd thought with his vision so blurry.

"Why? Why do you even care?" His voice sounded more accusatory than he'd meant, but it was how he'd always talked. "You didn't know my father. You never even met him. Why do you care if people drag his name through the dirt?"

Marius sighed through his nose.

"Well... I care about you." He shrugged. "And it's clearly hurting you, so..."

Frey stared, uncertain if he was aiming for an offended kind of stare or just plain surprise.

"What?"

"I mean, look at you." He gestured at Frey's face and Frey, misreading the situation, held a hand against his scar with a frown. "No, not that," Marius hurriedly added. "I just don't know how anyone can look at you and not see how you're still struggling, and I don't think you'll be able to move on until people stop whispering about it so yeah, I care about the rumours, because they're hurting you."

Frey's lips trembled at this and he let out a sob. It wasn't as though he didn't know it himself, but the validation of hearing someone else say it made it even more real. His face scrunched up again and before he knew it, he'd slowly leaned against Marius' shoulder.

Marius sat dumbstruck for a silent moment before raising a hesitant hand to place it around Frey.

As the warmth from the embrace reached him, Frey finally let go of his struggle to keep the tears back, trying to keep the sobbing as silent as possible by burrowing his face into the latter's chest.

"Lord Clausson, have you been drinking?" Marius asked with a low voice after inhaling a breath.

"A little," Frey mumbled between trembling breaths, tilting his head to glance at the half empty wine glass behind him. "But... Can you blame me?"

"No, no it's just that this whole situation feels more realistic now." Marius chuckled awkwardly. "What with the emotions and physical contact and all. It makes a little more sense."

Frey knitted his eyebrows, the back of his mind screaming that yes, it was unrealistic and he had to put an end to it, but he wouldn't.

"I was right there when it happened," he whispered. "He was in front of me. I keep thinking if— If I'd just reached out a little further, maybe he wouldn't—"

His words choked under another whimper, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

"Then that— That thing... It..." His ability to speak disappeared, and he only managed to utter another whimper as a new flood of tears took over. He raised a trembling hand to hold it against his scarred ear while reliving the memories much like he'd done every night for the past year. The nightmarish creature may have disappeared back then, but it still terrorised his sleep to the point of him refusing to go to bed on multiple occasions.

"I was so close," he croaked. "I saw everything. His— His blood splattered over me, it— it got in my mouth, and..."

He covered his mouth to stifle a retch.

"I... Can't think of any words that would express my sympathy well enough," Marius whispered and held Frey closer. If Frey wasn't imagining things through tipsiness and strong emotions, he could have sworn Marius looked more broken about it than he would have expected. "And I know that it's hard to shake it once the thought is there, but you can't blame yourself for what happened. I wasn't there, but from what I've heard there was nothing anyone could do."

Frey pressed his lips together, knowing if he opened them again he'd let out an unflattering sob. He only leaned his tired body against Marius, hoping he wouldn't change his mind about that choice just yet.

He smelled like the stables, much like Frey had imagined, but he found that he surprisingly didn't mind. The smell was, though strong and at first unpleasant, familiar. Something he could associate with enjoyable memories of taking Tea For Two out for a ride, and lately the knowledge that he'd always find Marius there.

It was strange. He'd been so sure he'd be revolted by a servant grabbing him, but being close to Marius at that moment didn't feel bad at all. It was comforting, and to think Marius would be willing to hold him like that despite how Frey had acted towards him before.

Frey turned his gaze away from Marius' chest, and he thought about what he'd said to Damien that time when they were walking from the tavern.

"I... Still don't get why you'd care so much about me. I'm... I've been so..."

"Rude, yes." Marius confirmed with a smile. "Upsettingly so, but not worse than I'd expect from a rich, spoiled lord."

"I thought we'd established you're the rude and disrespectful one," Frey mumbled in an attempt to defend himself, and Marius laughed through his nose.

"Yeah, but... Not really."

Frey opened his mouth to say something mean back but couldn't find the right words. The words he'd usually use suddenly seemed so cruel, so he closed his mouth again.

"I don't take it to heart, if it's any comfort. I honestly didn't think you reflected on it... Though I guess the fact that you do means you're not that bad, right? And just..." Marius laughed awkwardly. "... Someone who cares as much about their horse as you do can't be that bad of a person, I think."

Frey's eyebrows arched and he slowly removed his head from Marius' chest to look at him.

"You've... Based your idea of my personality on how I treat my horse?"

It was almost laughable, and Frey couldn't help but smile through his tears. Marius smiled as well, though in a more sheepish kind of way.

"I don't have a lot of conversations between us to go on," he tried to explain. "Even when I did, your refusal to treat me as an equal got in the way and yes, that should have been enough for me to dislike you, but... Then I overheard you talking to Tea For Two... On multiple occasions."

Heat rose in Frey's cheeks.

"You've... Listened when I talk to my horse?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything." Marius held up his hands and Frey immediately felt colder. He wanted those arms around him again, but there was no way he could ask for that. "It just... I don't know... It was nice to hear you like that. To hear you sounding cheerful and nice for once, I guess? It felt like seeing the real you, even if that side is only aimed at horses."

Frey made a face, but Marius didn't notice it.

"And you even sacrificed your health when Tea For Two was injured. While it was a reckless thing to do, it proved to me that you're capable of compassion despite what everyone says."

"Well..." Frey hesitated. "... Horses can't gossip about me, aside from to other horses, and they don't judge my flaws in a way that matters. They may be animals but they're still company, and I can afford to be vulnerable for once."

Marius tilted his head with a raised eyebrow.

"So am I... A horse to you?"

Frey frowned at him.

"What?"

"You've been opening up to me, haven't you?"

"That's..." Frey clenched his jaw. "... I'm— I've been drinking."

"That's true," Marius agreed. "But you hadn't when you thanked me the other day. After getting you and Tea For Two back. You didn't need to do that, but you did anyway."

Frey slowly turned his head the other way.

"I can show gratitude sometimes. Doesn't need to mean anything."

"But would you have done it if it had been the first time we met?" Marius inquired. "Why is it so bad that you've become nicer to me?"

"... Because I'm not a nice person," Frey mumbled, ignoring the tear that had found its way down his cheek. "Especially not to servants."

"I don't think that's the real you." Marius raised his hand, a bit hesitantly at first, and wiped the lingering tear away with his thumb. "You've had to be harsh because of who you are, right? Not that it excuses your behaviour, but I doubt you would act that way if you weren't required to."

Frey held his breath and blinked rapidly to stop another stream of tears.

"You're thinking too highly of me," he whispered. "You're supposed to hate me, like all the other servants."

He still wished it wasn't true. He didn't want to be hated anymore, especially not by Marius.

"Why would you aim for me to hate you?" Marius gently turned Frey's chin so they faced each other. "Especially when it's not working at all?"

Frey acted without thinking. Perhaps it was his vulnerable, intoxicated state, or Marius' warmth and comforting words, but before he could stop himself he'd leaned forward to press his lips against Marius'.

As soon as his mind caught up he went into shock, and his heart began racing. What was he thinking? Had he even thought anything at all? He'd kissed a servant. He'd kissed someone, and it was a servant. It didn't matter that he'd finally felt the pleasure he'd yearned for in those soft lips against his. It had been a forbidden craving he was never allowed to acknowledge, much less satiate.

The moment grew significantly worse as Marius pulled away from him, holding Frey's shoulders and looking into his eyes.

Frey noticed his conflicted expression and frowned. He'd misread the situation, if he'd even read it at all. Perhaps his desires had just played a trick on him.

"I—I shouldn't—" Marius struggled to find words and Frey's eyes narrowed in regret and anguish, so he hurriedly continued. "No, I... I'm sorry—"

"No, you're right." Frey forced his voice to return to its usual cold demeanor. That night was too much for him. As if the whispers hadn't been enough.

He stood from the ground and turned away.

"I'm a lord after all, and..." He trailed off. It would've been so easy to turn it around. To claim that he was the one rejecting Marius due to their difference in class, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I should get back to the others," he whispered instead and began walking, clenching his fists to keep them at his sides.

Marius didn't stop him, nor did he say anything. It was probably for the best, Frey figured as he bit down hard into his lower lip. He didn't need to hear his reasons, not after all the other troublesome experiences that evening.

As soon as he got back to the house he passed right through the parlour, refusing to acknowledge the people giving him the usual pitying –or apparently concerned- looks and walked up to his room. Well there he threw himself onto his bed to scream into a pillow.