When Aggie awoke the next morning, her first thought was that the sun felt wonderful and warm on her face. Her second thought, was how much her backside still hurt from her long journey to her fiancé’s keep. Her third thought as she opened her eyes was: “Who the fuck are these people?”

There was the elderly maid from the hallway yesterday in her headdress, a younger woman- potentially in her early 40’s, with small spectacles perched on the end of her nose, dressed entirely in black with her hair pulled back in a loose twist, and two women who looked to be courtiers. The group of four women were surrounding Aggie’s bed, and peering down at her sleeping form. The courtiers were side by side on her right, the serving staff on her left.

One of the courtiers looked to be in her late 30’s, wearing a crimson velvet dress- that was more voluminous than was in style, and the other was in her late 20’s and wore a pale blue dress with brown laces. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a net, and was kept in place by pearl-headed pins. Right away, Aggie didn’t like the younger woman. Her blue eyes looked beady, and almost… hungry, as she stared at Aggie with a malice glint in her eyes.

“Lady Agnes, I pray you slept well.” The elderly maid’s face was an unreadable mask, which Aggie was presuming had something to do with the presence of the courtiers whom were still staring at her as she eyed the crowd around her bed. The blonde woman was smirking as though she was finding some untold joke particularly amusing.

“We were ordered to… wake you this morning by Lord O’Farrell, as he wants to try and help you get into the rhythm of the keep sooner than later.” The maid was beginning to sound nervous as Aggie showed little emotion, and had yet to say a word.

“He’s punishing me for leaving him waiting.” Aggie thought as she nodded slowly at the maid, while finally pushing herself upright, and swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.

“This lady here is the castle seamstress Rose Sweeney, this is Mistress Josephine MacDermott, wife of Lord MacDermott, and this is Lady Deborah Stewart, wife of Lord Stewart. Rose will be in charge of preparing your wedding gown, and now that she has you here, will be able to get the proper measurements for a good fit.” The head maid had set to folding down Aggie’s coverlet, and procuring a robe and slippers for Aggie whose head could barely wrap around what was happening. Though she was beginning to become self conscious of being in nothing but her shift.

“Yes, and we are present, Dear Lady Agnes, to be your companions as you adjust to your new home here.” Deborah batted her eyes innocently at Aggie, who did her best not to show the disgust she felt towards the woman. She was now turned facing the two Lady’s as the robe was slipped over her shoulders.

Perhaps she had been sleeping awkwardly, and Deborah had found it genuinely funny-, and to be fair, Aggie simply wasn’t a woman who liked waking up, but the uneasiness in her stomach regarding Deborah seemed to have little to do with the fact that it was empty.

“We also are here to make style recommendations for Mistress Rose Sweeney that would be most pleasing to Lord O’Farrell.” Despite Josephine being the one to have spoken, Aggie didn’t move her gaze from Deborah’s smiling face. She allowed the maid to gently place her slippers on her feet, all the while not saying a word, and staring at the blonde woman.

The longer she stared at Deborah saying nothing, the more uncomfortable everyone in the room felt.

“Good. Doesn’t feel so nice does it?” Aggie thought to herself, noting the darting glances around her, and doing her best not to clench her hands.

“Lady Agnes why do you stare at me…? I understand that word may have gone around that I am one of the youngest wives of the Lord’s here-”

“What is your name?” Aggie didn’t turn her gaze, but gently touched the arm of the maid that was tying her robe closed.

“Me my Lady?” The note of surprise was high in her voice. “I am Head of Maids, Bertha Brady.”

“Bertha, thank you for attending to me with such meticulous care.” Still, Aggie’s gaze stayed glued to Deborah’s face, though the smile had dimmed slightly from her face. Eventually, Deborah decided to lower her gaze under Aggie’s stare, but didn’t strip the smirk away.

“My Lady, would you like our recommendation on clothing for your first meal with your Lord…?” Josephine had a note of rising panic in her voice, as though she sensed trouble. She seemed to be trying to step on Deborah’s toes in a subtle manner from under her weighty skirts, and was failing miserably

“I will defer to your expertise Lady Josephine.” At long last, Aggie moved her gaze to Josephine. The older courtier hadn’t done anything impolite, and she knew she could make an enemy far quicker if she didn’t show proper consideration of someone’s status. It had nearly killed her not showing Head Maid Bertha a proper acknowledgment, but she had good instincts when it came to smelling a bully, and Deborah stank of horseshit.

“Lady Agnes, Lady Josephine is better to recommend items for her peers.” Deborah’s voice carried the hint of a laugh, and Aggie was sure she wasn’t imagining the small blush on Josephine’s otherwise flawless skin.

“I was brought to suggest a dress more suitable for your age.” Deborah grinned prettily at Aggie, and the future Lady O’Farrell turned her gaze back to Deborah. Aggie smiled back, but made sure it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Forgive me, I must not quite understand; why was Lady Josephine recommended to aid me if she is unable to…?” The jibe at Aggie’s age hadn’t been lost, and she watched Deborah’s eyes grow a millimeter wider as she realized she had to mind her words or she would doubly insult a fellow Lady.

“Oh goodness! Lady Agnes, I didn’t mean we dismiss Lady Josephine, I simply thought we both might be helpful in this endeavor.”

“I hadn’t said otherwise.” Aggie’s smile faded to a calculating look, and the discomfort and tension in the room was nearing a snapping point. Aggie stopped talking, and watched Lady Deborah smile a little more meekly towards Lady Josephine, whose eyebrows were raised as she stared at Aggie with more interest.

“Lady Deborah, how about we wait outdoors while Mistress Rose gets Lady Agnes’ measurements. I’m sure she will appreciate getting started immediately.” Lady Josephine curtsied to Lady Agnes, and nodded her head towards the two serving women who had both been frozen by the exchange between the courtiers.

“P-Please send in my assistant now.” Rose squeaked to Bertha as Lady Josephine and Lady Deborah turned their backs and left the chamber.

As soon as Aggie was alone with Rose, she turned a far softer expression to the woman, and that was when she realized with a small surprise that Rose Sweeney had a long skinny tail that was swaying gently in the air. She did her best to recover from the surprise, and met the woman’s brown eyes instead of focusing on the sweet pink tail.

“So is lady Deborah always such a cow?” Rose let out another squeak as her jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide.

“My Lady!” The voice from the doorway was Maid Bertha. Aggie swung around anticipating a look of anger on the Maid’s face, but saw that, for try as she might; she couldn’t hide her small smile. “That isn’t… That isn’t kind.”

Aggie smiled ruefully, and cocked an eyebrow as Bertha tried to keep a straight face-, she always liked the serving staff of a well managed home. The staff at homes that were treated poorly often were in constant fear, or bullies themselves because of the nature of the house leaders. Therefore, despite her future husband seeming like a prick, there had to be another side to him if his staff was clearly good humored.

This comforted Aggie. Perhaps he had had a stressful day yesterday, and a snotty, soaking wet woman standing in his entrance, hadn’t inspired tender feelings.

“My Lady we must begin the measurements, if you are late to breakfast, My Lord will be unhappy.” Bertha was still schooling her expression as she guided Agnes to a full-length mirror that she hadn’t noticed the previous day. The assistant had taken some time coming through the door behind her, but in the reflection Aggie saw a young boy of 12 push through the entrance with several bolts of fine looking silks under each arm, and baskets of pins and threads clutched in each hand. Both Seamstress Rose and Head Maid Bertha seemed set on ignoring him.

“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble Head Maid Bertha.” Aggie’s tone was far more affectionate than was probably appropriate, as she returned her attention to Bertha, but she was desperate for a friendly face this morning. The impromptu wake-up, and jarring courtier exchange had prompted homesickness to wash over her with some notable vigor.

The Head Maid paused at Aggie’s tone, and seemed to be thinking as she set about to lifting a small foot stool over to the side for Rose’s assistant to sit.

Aggie didn’t sigh out loud, but she wished she could’ve smacked a hand to her forehead. She had to be careful and be on good, or at least acceptable, behavior until she understood more. She couldn’t be too close to the maids right away; it would seem a little too naive.

So she allowed the process of measuring to go by without any further comment, though the assistant drew blood on more than one occasion.

*

Aggie walked down the bright hallway towards the banquet hall, her 6 maids had been waiting for her outside her door when she had emerged dressed, and her hair combed until it cascaded down her back past her bum in impossible softness.

She would have never admitted outwardly, but Deborah did end up having superior taste.

The dress Aggie had been supposed to wear for dinner had been beautiful, but wrong for her. The muted pastel green dress she currently wore, with brown leather ties enhanced Aggie’s bright pale green eyes, and flattered her pale skin into looking… better than normal.

She didn’t wear her mother’s pearls this morning, but she did wear pearl droplet earrings placed in gold, and one gold ring on each hand. Simple, but no one would deny she looked anything less than a Lady of a respectable house.

At long last, Aggie arrived in the dining hall where the head table ran horizontally across the large room, and two tables ran vertically parallel to the each other. The room was filled with… men. Drinking, feasting, and loud.

There wasn’t a woman in sight, except for now, Aggie.

When they had first arrived in the banquet hall, there had been lively discussions, and a few curse words thrown about, but when Aggie’s maids parted from each other to again, create an aisle for Aggie, the room went silent.

Aggie felt like a mare that was being presented for purchase, as her soon to be husband sat at the table in a tall golden chair that seemed fit for a king with its high peaked back.

He had a goblet in his hand, and he looked tired. In fact; he didn’t look as though he had changed or bathed at all since Aggie had last seen him. He eyed her appraisingly, without budging a muscle or changing his blank expression.

Aggie walked up towards his placement at the table, and dipped a curtsey, hoping that no one was able to hear her heart thudding in her chest, or that her hands weren’t trembling too noticeably.

“Good morning my Lord.” Aggie didn’t want to meet his piercing blue eyes, but she did, and she saw the flicker of dark emotion cross his face.

“Lady Agnes Beatha.” He held her gaze, and Aggie could’ve sworn she saw his lip twitch in almost a sneer.

“Sit.” He ordered, and despite Aggie wanting to cross her arms and glower at him, or sprint from the room, she walked with stiff legs back down towards the door, and around the back of all the tables. The silence made the long walk only more cumbersome.

The chair on his left was drawn out for her by one of the pages that had been standing along the wall. She sat down, and kept her posture rigid, not wanting to look at her future husband.

Serving staff placed food on her plate, and filled her goblet, but she didn’t move a muscle towards it.

It wasn’t until after several long moments that Sean O’Farrell drank from his goblet, thus giving the room permission to continue eating. The voices were softer, and not nearly as boisterous as before, but Aggie knew that she had no choice but to pretend not to notice and eat.

So she did.

***

Arlen stood by the chestnut brown mare, and brushed her absent mindedly, not caring that the son of the stable master, Killian, was watching him with a speculative expression.

It was a sunny morning in the O’Farrell house, and everyone was bustling about their duties trying to make sure their Lord would have no further reason to be sour.

His future wife’s arrival had not gone smoothly, and though he would never take his rage out on his household, it didn’t stop him from being completely terrifying. A man who had killed thousands of people in the War of Kinds, and was valued by the Northern King as the best strategist in the land, never exuded a gentle aura. Especially when his strategy regarding his fiancé, had not gone the way he had wanted.

Arlen grinned to himself and said a thought half to himself and half to his companion.

“Mind repeating that Arlen…?” Killian asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

Arlen chuckled quietly, but only to the unseeing ribs of the mare.

“I like the new Mistress of the O’Farrell house. She seems…”

“Unpredictable? Naïve? Problematic?” Killian offered, finally turning his hazel eyes to the black stallion he was grooming.

“Unpredictable might be closer to what I am thinking, but it’s also more than that. She is… refreshing.” Arlen settled on the word, but wasn’t sure it matched what he was thinking about her at all.

“Pissing off the Lord so that he spent the night crashing around the library working on new formations, is refreshing?” Killian looked skeptically at the other man, and waited to hear an explanation.

“I had been worried that my services would involve me standing around a chamber of courtiers sewing their lives away and being petty with gossip. I did not foresee a woman bolting through a downpour to the doors for no good reason.”

“Enjoy talking like that while you can.” Killian warned as he tossed his brush into a rusted bucket near the stall window. “You are to be ‘gifted’ to the Lady after lunch.”

Arlen paused in his brushing, and nodded quietly.

“It is my duty and my honor to become a Life-Servicer.” He recited the pledge he had been trained his entire life. “I will protect, and educate her, and be her confidant. That is what my kind exists for. Until I am bonded however; I can observe as much about this house, and land, as I want to without having to concern myself any further with her.”

“Enjoy the next 4 hours of freedom, and it has been a pleasure knowing you.” Killian dramatically grasped Arlen’s hand that didn’t hold a brush, and gave it a strong but yanking shake.

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the past 6 months greatly, friend.” Killian added the last part more seriously, and his mouth dropped from the jesting smile to a grimace as he released his friend’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

“So tell me… what changes about you once bonded to the new Mistress…? Do you follow her around like a puppy and beg for her appreciation? Do you need belly rubs more often?” Despite Killian saying it as a joke, Arlen knew him well enough that it was a genuine concern, and it only made him like Killian more.

“I appreciate your skepticism, but I do not lose my personality. The race of Servicers keep thoughts, free will, and choices, our own. What we gain is a Master or Mistress that pushes us to our fullest potential. That is the way of Humans; they carry ambition, inspiration, and willpower that does not exist in other species. Servicers only serve the truly remarkable, or the truly wealthy. In this instance, I am very fortunate to have both.” Killian placed his hands on his hips and shook his shaggy brown hair.

“You seem to have high hopes for Lady Agnes.”

“Is it wrong to hope?”

“As long as you aren’t being delusional to avoid facing an unwanted reality.”

Arlen paused. Killian was deceptively thoughtful, and insightful young man. Despite him being born to a Stable Master, he was capable of obtaining greatness despite his lineage carrying a small thread of both Beast Awares, and pure Fey amongst the Human blood. To look at him, no one would have guessed, but there were always tells. In this case, he had an odd lack of hair on his body. Other than his eyebrows and the top of his head, he had no hair anywhere else despite being 24 years old. Not even a beard. That was the Fey in him-, that and his odd ability to calm any beast he touched.

His Beast Awares; only became abundantly apparent in particular moments. When some of the drunk landowners from the recent gathering had started throwing rocks at one of the young foals, Arlen had finally heard the resonant feline growl that omitted from his friend that scared off the offenders. He had heard stories floating around the maids before that moment, but hadn’t wanted to bring it up.

“My abilities as a bonded Servicer depends on how strongly she and I will connect. We are selected through a very meticulous matching process performed by the Ruling Family of our kind.” Arlen continued to explain, knowing that before that morning, he hadn’t spoken anything of his kind to his friend. He didn’t know why he chose now to share the information, other than he may have been a little nervous himself about what would happen once the bonding ceremony was over, and going over his own lessons helped quell those concerns.

“This ‘Ruling Family’, matches you to her when they have never spoken with her or yourself…? How do they do that…?” Killian folded his arms across his chest, and were Arlen any less confident in himself, would have felt as though he were the child being interrogated by a concerned parent.

“We don’t know. It is not our job to question a system that has been in place longer than anyone knows.” Killian snorted angrily. “-Just like you don’t question why you humans follow an oligarchy system for centuries, when blood rarely determines a suitable leader.” Killian paused at that, and thought more carefully at what he said next.

“You speak like there are tons of you around, but you are the only ‘Servicer’ I have ever met. Not to mention the name of your kind is… not very creative. Servicers Serve... So original.” He sighed, and took the brush from Arlen, and threw it into the bucket for him as a couple of giggling maids strolled by the stables eyeing Killian. He was known to be somewhat… alluring to women.

“You humans are the ones that think you need to be creative when naming things. We are not an imaginative race.”

“Are you the only one in your race?” Killian narrowed his eyes, but smiled challengingly.

Arlen sighed. This was why he rarely tried to explain his culture.

“Think of 3 of the greatest men or women you have ever known.” Arlen mirrored Killian and folded his arms across his chest, gazing steadily into his eyes.

“King Adston Collins, Duchess Elizabeth O’Donnell, and… my Dad.”

Arlen grinned. “The first 2 have 2 Servicers under them, and your Father has you, so he doesn’t need us.” Killian slapped his friends cheek laughing.

Arlen snorted and lunged at him, only to find the quick-footed future Stable Master, was out of his grasp.

They rough housed casually before getting a barking order from the Stable Master himself to: ‘Stop bothering the horses’ and ‘Go fix the loose fence post in the East pasture’.

Arlen was gathering the necessary tools for fixing the post, when 2 guardsmen appeared in front of him and Killian.

It was time. It was time to become a Bonded Servicer.

***

Aggie stood in her Lord’s chamber with Ms. Kathleen whom was standing completely still in a back corner. She normally would have been fidgety and chattering under the steady gaze of Sean O’Farrell, but today she seemed completely somber.

Aggie couldn’t help but wonder if her governess had a spell or drug that subdued her normally… excitable nature-, she had been oddly absent all morning.

The Lord had summoned her and her chaperone to his personal chamber for a private matter, only a few hours after breakfast, when Aggie had been in the middle of a tour given by Josephine and Deborah.

Since their first meeting, Sean O’Farrell had not spoken a word to her, and now as she stared at his hardened face, she wondered if he was about to end the their engagement.

Was it too much to hope?

To distract herself from rising expectations, Aggie was gazing all about his chamber, and noted the messy round table in front of the fireplace that wasn’t currently lit. She recognized the map of both the North and South Kingdoms, and noted a half dozen X’s marked in bright red ink in odd places. She noticed 2 or 3 novels on his table as well, but could not tell what their titles were from where she stood.

His four-poster bed had a midnight blue coverlet, and pristine white pillows that looked fresh and untouched. She briefly wondered if she would move to this room after their marriage, and found that she recoiled from the thought so aggressively, that she felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

It was the opening of the chamber door that broke her thoughts, and Aggie turned to see the man dressed in black that had been in the hallway the day she arrived. He had black hair that touched the tops of his ears, and was a little longer than most of the men’s in the keep. However, he was somewhat odd looking in other areas though as well.

His eyes were angled, and his skin wasn’t pale, or even dark like some of the Humans she had seen coming in on voyager ships from far off continents, no his skin was more olive toned. Then Aggie noticed with far more interest that his eyes were brown. No one had brown eyes! She had heard stories but never had she seen them… Then Aggie realized the most startling thing about him.

He was dressed with a long black coat buttoned to his throat, black trousers, and black leather boots.

The cleric.

Oh Gods. Was the wedding getting pushed forward?!

Aggie paled, how in the world could she convince her husband that they needed to wait! Possibly until after he was too sick to think anything about her, and would be fine if she just took an hour of her day to read to him…

“Lady Agnes Beatha, I bought you a wedding gift 6 months ago, a rather expensive one. I hope this gesture of my goodwill might inspire better behavior from you.” His low voice was almost a grumble, but Aggie wondered if she saw the small glint of excitement in his eyes at seeing her reaction.

She wished she could give a proper one, but she was deeply confused. Was the cleric going to forgive her sins as a gift of some kind…? Aggie had never really been overly religious.

“This is Arlen. He is a Servicer, and after the proper ceremony, will be bonded to you for life.” He looked proud of himself for thinking of such a magnanimous gift for her, and Aggie felt sheepish at not knowing what in the bloody fuck he was talking about.

“My Lord… I cannot express my gratitude for the thoughtful gesture.” Why let him know?

Until a small throat clearing behind Aggie saved her.

“My Lord, please forgive my ignorance, I have lived in a predominantly Human county my life, might I know what a ‘Servicer’ is?” Ms. Kathleen’s meek tone seemed alien, but in that moment Aggie could have kissed her governess.

The Lord sneered at Ms. Kathleen-, almost forcing Aggie to kick him in the shins.

“A Servicer is someone of personal service to whom they are magically bonded to. Depending on the strength of their bond, they may accomplish unimaginable feats together. It is incorruptible, completely honorable, and empowering in almost every sense of the word.” Arlen had cut in, staring at the Lord, somehow knowing that was the best way to neutralize the situation.

“Exactly. Arlen will help you assimilate to life here, and perhaps make you a respectable and notable woman of the Northern Kingdom.”

Arlen wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he saw Lady Agnes’ hand twitch as though the thought of slapping her future husband had crossed her mind.

“I thank you again my Lord. I am sorry to say I have not heard of the requirements for the ritual however.” Aggie was trying to walk the fine line of cluelessness and caution, but was struggling.

Lord O’Farrell stood up, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Kneel.” He ordered turning his gaze to the two young adults staring at him.

Aggie looked as though she was about to challenge him, but was stopped when Arlen obeyed seamlessly. She closed her mouth, and knelt on the stone floor beside the man who had yet to glance at her. She felt as though a prank was being played on her, as though at any moment Lady Deborah was going to leap out cackling at her gullibility over a magical servant.

Arlen raised his left hand with his palm down, and was surprised to see that there wasn’t a hint of tremor in it, despite his insides quaking.

He turned his gaze to Agnes, who hadn’t moved.

“Lady Agnes, raise your right hand.” Lord O’Farrell’s tone for once wasn’t condescending, but instead rang with ceremony.

Aggie raised her right hand, palm up. Unusual for a Lady, but Arlen didn’t hesitate in resting his hand in hers.

“By the temporary authority granted to me by the Family of Rulers pertaining to this Servicer, I bond Arlen, to Agnes Elizabeth Quinn Beatha, for life. To protect, to teach, to confide in with the utmost trust, and to serve until death parts you. This bond is sanctioned by The Ruling Family, The King of the North Kingdom, and with both of your consent.” The reverence in Lord Sean O’Farrell’s voice was humbling, and Aggie couldn’t help but feel as though this was echoing a wedding…

“What if Arlen wants to stop serving me because he doesn’t like what I do or believe?” Aggie’s question broke the building spellbound moment, as a hammer would break fine china.

Arlen whipped his head to stare at her, and Lord Sean O’Farrell dropped a wide-eyed gaze down to her, making her turn a bright red.

“Agnes,” Arlen spoke softly, knowing that Lord Sean O’Farrell was debating slapping his fiancé for breaking such an important ritual-the two may be more similar than they knew. “We were matched with our beliefs and personalities in mind, I will not disagree on matters fundamentally important to you.” His voice soothed everyone in the room except for Agnes.

“People change.” She said shortly meeting his eye-line straight on.

“Trust in the Ruling Family, fore they are rarely wrong.”

“It only takes being wrong once for it to be a problem.” Agnes didn’t seem to realize her quickly fired responses and doubts were dismantling many preconceptions everyone in the room seemed to have about her.

“Agnes Elizabeth Quinn Beatha, I promise to share my truthful thoughts and opinions when it matters most. This is added to our contract should it be of assistance to your conscience in this moment.”

Despite Arlen’s elegant solution, it somehow made Agnes appear more concerned, but she didn’t have the chance to say anything further before Sean O’Farrell spoke the final words.

“I bond you, from now, until the end, to one another.”

The electric shock that ran through the both of them at Lord Sean O’Farrell’s words carried different effects. There was a momentary flash of light in the room as though a sporadic bolt had touched down in the chamber, and while Sean and Kathleen both blinked at its power…

Agnes vomited on the floor everything she had consumed at breakfast, and Arlen fainted.

What a beautiful beginning.