Jennie smiled down at the sleeping boy. He was so small. His innocence and beauty were still unbroken. This was to be her last Yule celebration she spent serving Lord Kel. Her family had decided to expand, and she was needed, called to return and answer those familial bonds.

She was happy for her family. Happy for the opportunity. Promised that she would be allowed a free hand in crafting menus and staffing the new Hotel the family was opening. It was going to be a masterpiece of hospitality. She had finally achieved Masterclass levels and would join her brother and sister who had also advanced to Masterclass to expand and extend the influence of her clan.

But it meant leaving young Odharc behind.

Odharc. What a detestable name. The child’s mother should be whipped for fostering such cruelty on an innocent child. She and those of her staff refused to call him by that dreadful name. Instead, they had begun calling him Odd. For he had been such an odd child, filled with wonder and patience, happiness and wariness, curiosity and fear.

Delightful. Never complaining or crying. But so inquisitive. Always asking why, or getting into small spaces to explore and understand. He was a child of the Seelie, so should have been cherished. But his mixed parentage, his Unseelie bloodline, had instead left him forgotten or abused. It was only when the lesser-fey decided to act, those staff members that saw only innocence and beauty, not bloodline or taint, that he found his place.

A few of the sprites had led the child to her kitchens five years ago. He was only two at the time. Hungry, dirty, and lonely. He submitted to a warm bath in exchange for a hot bowl of gruel drizzled with honey, his eyes darting around, inquisitive even at such a young age, as he watched the kitchen staff perform their duties.

The sprites all but adopted him. Finding him a place to sleep, spending wages on used clothing, and bringing him to the kitchens to sate his hunger. He'd became all but feral. With no real authority or parental figure to take him in hand, to teach him or instruct him in what it meant to be Seelie, he instead learned what it meant to be lesser.

Servant or Sprite. One lesson was taught early. Remain hidden and unobtrusive. Remain unnoticed. For there was only true safety from the cruelty of the Seelie if they over-looked those they considered lesser and beneath them.

He was well-loved by all the staff, so Jennie wasn’t worried that he would continue to be fed and cared for. But he was seven now. It was long past time that he should have been attending lessons and training. And she feared that if matters were not taken in hand soon, then he truly would become one of the forgotten. No education, no training. What would become of him when it was time for him to enter the Chamber of Ascension?

The sprites had dressed him in greens, reds, and golds in honor of the Yule banquet that was going to be held today, spending a prodigious amount of money to see him garbed in festival finest This banquet would be more festive and lavish than normal because Lord Kel’s liege-lord was in attendance. Duke A’Daoine cycled through his vassals every year, visiting and spending Yule at a different Demesne in order to re-connect with those he had entrusted with lands and to identify dissent and problems that may affect profits and populace.

Jennie knew the sprites meant well by dressing the boy in festive clothes and colors. But their interference did not mesh well with her plans. If this was to be her last Yule with the boy, she refused to leave him without doing her best to change his circumstances. To make sure he received some minimum of education and weapons training.

He was boneless in his sleep. Allowing Jennie to quickly strip him out of the finery the Sprites had found for him, and dress him instead in his normal cast-offs. Worn, threadbare, holes badly mended, she transformed the innocent and beautiful child of Seelie back into the forgotten and neglected, a trusting child that she loved unconditionally.

She woke him, sending him to the kitchen to help, setting her plan into motion. His clothing was only the first step. She needed him to be disheveled and dirty, his neglect obvious to any that saw him. Lord Kel and Lady Patricia would play the dupe. Thom, spoiled and entitled, cruel in his nature and vicious in his treatment the perfect foil. Her plans had the hallmarks of a fairytale as old as time. And the Sidhe were nothing if not masters of the fairytale.

The stage was set. Events set in motion. Odharc would either take the first step as the hero in his own fairytale or be relegated to the dustbin as a minor character and quickly forgotten. Either way, Jennie was determined that today would be an opportunity for the forgotten child.

She had him emptying fire grates, measuring flour, polishing silver. Anything she could think of to dirty his appearance and demonstrate to any who saw him that he was being deprived of his rightful heritage. A child of Seelie should not be relegated as a chimney sweep in a Keep governed by Seelie. Jennie fully intended to use the Yule festivities to demonstrate to Duke A’Daoine the deprivations that his Vassal would use, the neglect that Lord Kel would extend to a child he had been ordered to foster.

Fate seemed to conspire to support Jennie’s scheme. Thom stumbled upon the young boy toiling, face set in determination to complete the latest task Jennie had given him. A simple enough task, even for such a young boy. She had asked him to fetch a serving ladle for a tureen of Solstice soup. His feet swift, happy and joyous to help his beloved Jennie, he ran headfirst into a furious and surprised Thom.

Flour, soot, and grime met the meticulous cleanliness and order that Thom had perfected. The result was predictable. Thom’s pristine clothing and image were smeared with the detritus and accumulated disorder that Odharc had accumulated. Odharc's actions were innocent and accidental, but Thom was incapable of ignoring the effrontery of a Seelie/Unseelie bastard.

And Thom's response was foreseeable.

Jennie had not planned for the boy to be struck. For him to be sent flying across the room and crashing into the side table that was groaning under the weight of foods and delicacies set and displayed. She hadn’t meant for Duke A’Daoine and Lord Kel to enter the room at that exact moment. She’d only hoped for the Duke to see and understand how badly Lord Kel had failed in his duty to the young boy.

Her intentions were superfluous at that moment because the results of Thom’s anger were obvious. Odharc’s arm was broken, his head bleeding from a deep gash, and his clothing that had been barely held together completed disintegrating into useless rags.

Still, Odharc with his beauty and innocence, inherent in all Seelie, managed to shine through the pain and anguish he was experiencing. His eyes filled with confusion and tears, it was his tiny shoulders, bony and emaciated, thrust back that cloaked him in a dignity and civility that belied the destruction he was surrounded with.

“Who is this?” Duke A’Daoine demanded. “Does your house normally treat Seelie children so egregiously?”

“Child,” Duke A’Daoine said coaxing Odharc to come close, soothing him with his words and extending healing magic, as he examined the boy minutely. “Where are your parents?”

His ministrations were successful in calming Odharc, but his question only led to confusion and wariness. How was he supposed to answer that question? He didn’t know who his parents were.

Not recognizing why the boy seemed confused with such a simple question, Duke A’Daoine tried again, “Who takes care of you?”

Odharc’s eyes lit up in response to this question. Something he could answer, and part of his charm, what delighted Jennie and her staff, was his longing to please those around. “Trizz and Blixx find me a bed. Nell and Budd get me clothes. And Jennie! Jennie makes the best-est pies!” He assured the Duke, happy to be able to answer the question.

Duke A’Daoine kneeled down, withdrawing a cloth from storage, he pulled Odharc close and began wiping the grime, dust, food, and blood from the boy. As he did so, the features that had been obscured by so much slowly resolved. Once satisfied that the wound had been closed, and the bleeding stemmed, the break in the arm mending, Duke A’Daoine stood, hand resting on Odharc’s shoulder he turned to Lord Kel.

“Kel. Who are his parents?” Duke A’Daoine demanded.

Lord Kel was obvious in his hesitation. The Duke could be capricious, his anger legendary when he felt slighted or insulted. Duke A'Daoine had tasked his House with the well-being of Odharc. Lord Kel had accepted that duty, but conveniently tasked servants to deal with the child. He would have forgotten the boy's existence entirely if his yearly report didn’t require him to make token reports to Duke A’Daoine about the boy's well-being. He had dutifully reported the boy lived, but beyond that, he had made no effort.

“His mother abandoned him as soon as he was born. His father, an Unseelie, has never been identified or allowed to acknowledge him. Your wife, Lady Breanna, was great friends with his mother, so you sent the child here for fostering soon after his birth. His mother repudiating him and striking his name from her House.”

“This is the child of Lady Lydia A’Nos?”

“He is, Duke A’Daoine,” Lord Kel answered reluctantly.

“Am I to understand, that a child of Seelie. With the blood of nobles running through his veins has been ignored and cast off for the servants to raise?” Duke A’Daoine demanded his voice thunderous, his anger barely controlled.