Bran didn’t mind solitude. Quite frankly, in the last ten years he had come to enjoy it immensely. When he was alone and reading, the world could be anything he wanted it to be. Daring knights, loving families, and adventures on the horizon were an all to welcome escape from the life of servitude he experienced everyday.

“Bran!” he heard a pounding on the splintered wooden door to his attic room. “Bran! What the hell are you up to? When are you starting breakfast?” Bran groaned and delicately placed a ribbon back into his book. His bed creaked loudly as he shifted his weight. Another beautiful day to be spent serving the household of his supposed family.

Bran descended the stairs and began his morning routine. Feeding the chickens, collecting eggs, baking bread, picking fruit, setting the table as the other fae servants moved around him. He sat on a stool in the corner of the dining room, eating his bread while his ste- family enjoyed the spread he had made for them.

His step brother Kirk scrunched up his portly face. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to enjoy our breakfast with him in the room,” he jerked his fat head towards Bran. “Do you see how grimey his clothes are? It could make anyone lose their appetite.”

“Not to mention the smell,” his sister Beatrice added. Her lips curled, putting her large teeth on display. “When's the last time you took a proper bath?”

“Beatrice, Kirk, don’t be rude. He may not put the most effort into his appearance but Bran here is a valuable member of this household. None of the other servants put so much effort into their chores, such as….” his step father Atticus gave an alarming false smile and pointed at the empty dishes on the table. He wasn’t an old man, but his long beard was liberally peppered with gray, giving him an especially stern appearance.

Bran quickly stood to take the dirty dishes into the kitchen, grateful for any excuse to leave. How long had it been since he’d experienced kindness in his own home? Sure, Atticus and his step siblings had shown him some compassion after his mother died and left them this house, but all generosity seemed to end there.

He often mused on whether or not they'd be kinder if he were a fully human, like his mother. He stared at his reflection in the shiny silver tray and pulled at his pointed ears. His willowy figure and large eyes hinted at something otherworldly, but the ears were a dead give away. He often thanked God he was mostly passing as human. At least he could travel through the village without harassment.

He had never known that father who gave him his fae blood, but his mother had always been enough. He had never needed anyone else.

It seemed that one day Atticus Carpenter and his children just appeared out of nowhere. Atticus had been so charming and handsome, his mother had fallen for him almost immediately.

His mother had trusted Atticus by sharing Bran’s true lineage. Fae/human relationships were taboo, but not illegal. Atticus realized that revealing Bran’s true blood status would reflect poorly on his wife and himself. He claimed not to care and to raise Bran as his own, until his mother had passed.

Bran knew he owed his stepfather everything for not kicking him out, which he legally could have done. Surely, this life of servitude was better than any orphanage or fae slum. After the wars, fae had been banned from most skilled professions, leaving them poor or in servitude. His heart burned with the injustice of it all.

“Already sent you out?” Diana, another servant, commented as he passed her the stack of dishes.

“Thankfully. I’m not sure I could handle another minute in there.” Bran threw his head back and ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“Glad you didn’t let your temper get the best of you. Adam and I have already finished most of your chores, so why don’t you enjoy some time away from the manor.”

Guilt pricked at Bran’s gut. “You don’t have to do that for me,” he said, placing his pale hand on her plump, blue tinted one. “You’re going to work yourselves sick.”

She shook her full face vehemently. “With all of the volunteering you and Isabella do at our medical clinic, scrubbing the floors is the least we could do in return.”

Diana’s son, Adam, stormed into the room. Adam was as bright as he was mischievous. Diana had worked at the manor for as long as Bran could remember. Bran had known Adam since he was a baby, and always had a soft spot for him.

“Yeah, I’m happy to help if you have any more books that me and my friends could borrow,” he grinned. “I loved the one about pirates. I’ll probably be writing my own soon.”

“As long as you let me read it when you’ve finished and you return the book you borrow in better shape than the last one I gave you,” he replied in a disapproving tone.

Adam nodded. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let Julian touch it.”

“Arlight, follow me,” Bran acquiesced with a sigh, taking the freckled boy by the hand. “You can take your pick from my personal library, just keep your hands off the medical texts. I have some more studying I need to do before my shift today.”