As Jack became comfortable with his new home, he learned his daily work routine by rote.

The sun would be vicious most days. Sweat would drip down his face and neck and seep into his soaked shirt, but there was no rest for him. Work like this suited someone who liked to be on his feet like Jack. This didn't necessarily mean Jack enjoyed his laundry list of yard and housework, but it kept him busy both physically and mentally.

Jack had always been pragmatic—when he was given a task, he did it without questions. He knew his place, especially among the Nordheims. While they seemed fond of him, or at least happy to have him do all of their yard work for them, Elsa didn't seem to be interested in warming up to him. He wasn't addled; Jack cared more about what the master and mistress of the household thought of him more than their spoiled daughter—they were the ones housing him as long as they were satisfied.

Elsa would give him a passing glance or sometimes a small comment about what work was left to be done, but otherwise, there wasn't much conversation. Jack rarely ate meals with the family since he started his work right at dawn and went on well into the hours of the evening, to which he helped himself to the remainders of dinner.

On one afternoon, however, something changed.

Jack swiped the back of his dust-covered hand across his face, wishing he at least had a hat to keep some of the sun off of him. He pulled roughly at the weeds and tossed them into a basket. He didn't notice that someone was walking up behind him. A harsh wind blew and Jack took solace in the cool of the air and the shade of the clouds passing over the sun.

Shouldering the basket so he could get rid of the weeds, Jack stood up and turned around—

"AH!"

"AHH!"

Jack's shocked yelp had made Elsa jump, frightening her just as much! Both were embarrassed and trying to recompose themselves.

"Jesus Christ!" Jack said, heart pounding.

Elsa stiffened, clearing her throat. "I just came to offer you some water." The glass of water she was holding had been full, but her jerking motion caused nearly a third of it to leap out.

"Do you always sneak up on people when you bring them water?"

"I didn't sneak up on you; you just didn't hear me." She held out the cup, "Anyway, do you want it or not?"

He gingerly accepted, not before wiping his hands on his dirt-covered pants. "I do. Thank you." Truthfully, he could guzzle it down in one sitting since it was so hot and it had been over an hour since he last had a drink. Elsa had practically come to his rescue. But in front of her, he took dainty sips, relieved as soon as his lips touched the rim of the glass.

"The last thing we need is you dehydrating on the job." Elsa folded her arms.

"Well, you've stopped that from happening." Jack responded wryly, handing her the now-empty cup.

"Gerda's gone into town," Elsa added casually, "she needs spices for tonight's dinner. Also some more ginger for my tea."

"Did she?" Jack asked, propping the basket up again. He wanted to get back to work, but he was also amazed by the fact Elsa was even talking to him.

"I can't imagine anything more exciting than a trip to town." She said it almost dreamily, but Jack had no comment. He didn't know what cities or towns were like, and he wasn't going to waste time chatting about them while he was still technically under a 'trial period.' Instead of walking away, Elsa said, "I want to go on another walk."

Jack flinched. "Uh..."

"Come on, get ready. Can't have a nice stroll in those sweaty clothes."

"I–I'm working." He reminded her of the heavy basket he was holding.

"You've been working since five this morning. Come on. Let's have a nice, relaxing walk."

"Your father—"

"My father wants us to get to know each other. He says as a member of this household, you ought to be treated like family."

Jack looked skeptical. He was reluctant to abandon his job when it was hardly sundown... but a stroll by the windy cliffs didn't sound too bad either. "Just let me dump these." And he went out to pour the weeds into the cropfields.

...

Although changed into new clothes, his skin was still sticky. His relief to be out of the harsh bite of the sun and to be kissed by the cool winds was easy to notice. Looking out at the water, Jack was certain he'd never been this high above the world before.

"How old are you?" Elsa asked as they reached the fjords, a good mile away from the Nordheim manor.

"Twenty." Jack answered.

Elsa scrutinized him, "You're small." That made Jack bristle; while his time in the fields kept him toned, he was more wiry than he would've liked thanks to not eating as well as most people. That was something out of his control. Maybe she was referring to his height—not even six feet tall and he barely had an inch on Elsa. He was still taller than most boys he grew up knowing, but perhaps this was a product of years of malnutrition.

Elsa turned her back to him again, "When's your birthday?"

"November twentieth." He watched her moving in front of him, noting the bunad she had on. Of all the clothes he'd held and washed, this family's was the most expensive.

Elsa thought to herself for a moment, "Ah," she smirked, "you're a Scorpio."

Jack winced, "A what?"

Elsa turned around, "I knew it! The moment I saw you, I knew it! Every time."

"What are you talking about?"

"The zodiac. Your birthday means you're a Scorpio."

"Which means...?"

"Well, everyone says you have to be careful around Scorpios. They're mysterious."

Jack snorted, biting his lip so he didn't laugh out loud. "I see."

"I hear they're passionate in love too. But what do I know? I'm just a Capricorn."

Jack didn't know what any of this meant, but he went along with it. "So... What else can you tell me about these... scorpions?"

Elsa chortled, "Let's see... It's a water sign. Water signs get along well with Earth signs, like me. Of course both my parents and Gerda are air signs." She lamented rather woefully. Jack was nodding like he was understanding what the Hell she was saying. "Scorpios are also very private, intense people. They don't show their emotions easily. They don't trust easily either." That made Jack grin rather sardonically. Elsa caught this, "Sound like you?"

"I dunno. What do you think?"

"I think you're just letting me talk so you don't have to tell me about yourself." Jack felt caught—she had said 'private and distrustful.' Maybe she was onto something. As she'd expected, Jack had no reply. He kept his head bowed like a nervous dog and walked behind her. "Do you like it here?"

"I do." He answered so quickly that Elsa wondered if he'd trained himself to answer that way.

"Do you like my father?"

Was she testing him? Is that was this all was? "I do. He's been good to me. I wouldn't have a home if it weren't for him."

"Didn't you have one in Denmark?"

"No." Jack bit rather harshly and he stopped himself. "No, I didn't." He said more calmly.

Elsa turned back to him with an inquisitive gaze. Jack had already said too much and he clamped his mouth shut. They evaded each other's eyes; it made the interrogation less personal. Their collection of glances were growing little by little. "...What happened to your parents?"

Jack answered rather hesitantly, "They died when I was young."

Elsa's brow furrowed with compassion, but he couldn't tell from where he was walking. "I'm sorry to hear that." The wind howled against their ears. This time, Elsa looked back when she asked, "What took them?"

Jack was silent. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, like he was thinking of how to answer. It felt like an eternity before he said, "They were killed."

Elsa's heart sank into her stomach. Jack felt the color drain from his face as he thought of those memories, but he didn't let any feeling show, not even despair. "I'm sorry." Elsa repeated. The wind rushed through them, filling the silence. "...Are you all right?"

"I will be." He said. For the first time, they didn't take their eyes off of each other. "You're the first person that's asked me that."

"About your parents?"

"If I'm all right." Not a lot of people in Jack's life seemed to care about how he felt. Time and time again did tragedy occur, and not once did anybody console him. Jack was so used to this environment that he presumed having no emotional support was universal. "How do you feel about getting married?"

Elsa looked at him sharply. "What do you know about it?"

"All I know is that you're engaged."

"That's all I know too. Imagine that for yourself." There was a pause; Elsa felt like she'd given too much of herself away. "When do you suppose you'll get married?"

"I don't know if I ever will."

"Men have that privilege." Elsa retorted. Jack offered his gaze again, but the wind rose rapidly and it was too much for them to stay where they were anymore. It made Elsa's blonde hair dance wildly, and for some reason, Jack wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush back the loose strands.

...

By nightfall, a storm had arrived.

It wasn't a gentle rainfall, but a torrential downpour that made the windows rattle. As they beat against the window, Jack lied awake in bed. Elsa's gaze kept appearing before him, like a specter trying to be noticed. In her eyes, there was something desperate to reach out to someone... something lonely and burdened.

He let out a heavy sigh as he thought more about her, the rain becoming white noise.

He thought about her inquiries and why she was so anxious to know the answers. Jack had hoped he'd be leaving everything about his old life behind, but apparently, it was all there was to him. There were nights he lied awake, terrified to sleep from his irrational fear of being captured and taken back. He knew he was expendable to the Nordheims, no matter how well they treated him. They could always find another groundskeeper. That made his fear even stronger—if anything happened to him, they wouldn't care. They probably wouldn't even notice.

When Jack first heard about Herr Nordheim, it was from a fisherman that was at the market he visited to make trades. He casually mentioned he was looking for someone 'outdoorsy and with a good work ethic' for extra help. Jack had been looking for ways to escape the commune, and he knew this was a risky choice, but he told the traveling fisherman he'd give him a good portion of his farm's crops to sell if he delivered his letters for him. He begged, pandering to his sympathy by telling him what went on in the commune (without alerting suspicion from his 'family members').

Jack spared the details of what went on in his home when he wrote the letters; catering more for Agnarr's admiration for hard workers and those eager to serve. Through these letters, Agnarr and Jack got a feel of each other's personalities and if they could communicate well with one another. In simple terms, Jack had done his job interview all through paper.

The day Jack decided it was time to go was the scariest day of his life. Worse than...

Jack rolled over and faced the window. He was on the second floor, so it felt silly to be worrying about anyone breaking in through the glass, but it helped him sleep easier.