Oath of Servitude

Chapter One

There had been no other choice. He had known that his options were limited, but when he realized that he couldn’t bear waking up for one more day with that feeling of suffocating helplessness, he knew that he needed to take a chance. He knew that there were two truths about a last resort: everyone has one and no one wants to use it. To him it was an acknowledgement that he had allowed the situation to spiral out of control. This could be just what was needed, but if it didn’t work then he would likely be left with nothing. It was a sobering thought.

Forcing himself to look out the window, Owen Ainsley noticed the snow falling lightly. Even though it was April the sky still churned, sending gusts of snowy air through the trees. In this moment the young father was reminded of his own childhood, allowing himself to get caught up in the clean, crisp air that made him think of a freshly chewed piece of wintergreen gum. This was a world that could not be further from the college city where he and his son had lived until recently. Unfortunately, this moment of peace was short-lived. Things were becoming increasingly challenging with his only son Teague and he was worried. Changes were coming quickly though, and he needed to discuss them with his son – he didn’t need any more surprises.

Owen shook his head before allowing his eyes to move from the window and take in the bedroom where he was standing. His only son seemed broken, collapsed lengthwise over his bed – a sight that was depressingly familiar of late. Owen gently ran his fingertips over the stubble that he had let grow over his chin, appreciating the sensation it created; it was something he could control, unlike his son. Scrunching his nose, he noted the smells of the room: teenage boy, unwashed clothes and an overpowering acrid odor that stung his nostrils.

How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself? Owen asked as he stood in the antique wooden doorway of his son's darkened room. Teague never bothered to turn on the lights; there was no point. Instead, Teague's long and thick body was spread across the bed, hair and arms dangling over the edge as if he were nothing but a limp rag doll.

You're drunk again? he continued. The figure on the bed shrugged, but offered no further response. Rolling his eyes, Owen continued to lean against the door frame, staring at his son and wondering if things between them could ever be ordinary again. How much his son had changed these past two months. Owen had hoped that moving them out of the south and up to Maine where he had spent his childhood would help Teague deal with some of the recent changes, but deep down he knew that his son was not recovering in the way that he had hoped. His son’s condition wasn’t the only reason they had moved here - Owen was stressed as well and he felt safer letting his emotions roam free in the comfort of their remote cottage. Owen's dark brown eyes - a dead ringer for his son's - took a quick look around the room and for a moment he wondered why he kept giving his son more liquor, as if it would help things. The room was already littered with empty plastic vodka bottles and two liters of generic cola. His eyes fell on his son again. He felt ashamed for buying them, but he found that coping with Teague sober was all but insufferable. At least he would talk after a few drinks – otherwise he just lay there motionless like a corpse.

You're not even twenty…not even legal, he weakly offered, knowing he was just as much at fault for giving it to him. For the first time since Teague's early teenage years he wondered if he was becoming a pushover to his son again.

Dad, the voice on the bed grumbled as if his own tone sickened him, I don't want to hear anything about this - especially from you. He still sounded drunk. What time was it? Owen's eyes shifted to his son's digital clock: it was 10:49 in the morning.

I just want to know how long you plan on doing this to yourself, Owen chose his words carefully, as if it would make a difference.

It didn't.

The young man’s shoulders rose and fell and he began to feel the floor with his fingertips. Owen grimaced, knowing what his son was trying to discover and when Teague’s large callused hand found a half-filled vodka container he clasped it firmly by the neck.

Orange juice? Teague demanded without lifting his head.

I'm not letting you drink this early in the morning, Teague. I have to draw the line somewhere; I have been very lenient lately, but this is getting to be a bit much. Don't you agree?

Shut up, he growled back and shook the bottle, gauging its contents by the sound of it swishing through the plastic like ocean waves.

Are you going to get me some orange juice or not?

Not, Owen replied firmly.

Whatever, Teague replied. It's not like I expect you to know how I feel.

So then tell me…how do you feel?

Like you even give a shit, the son accused. His dark hair fell around his face and over his eyes.

Of course I give a sh…I mean of course I care! I want you to talk to me Teague, the father desperately pleaded.

Teague's shoulders slumped as he took a gulp of the vodka straight from the bottle after fumbling with the plastic cap.

I hate this house…I hate that you forced me to move into this backward-ass town that doesn't even have cell phone service…I hate you for moving me to this damn place that’s cold and smells like a damn farm…and I hate me because… he trailed off, the end of the sentence dissolving into the stale air of his bedroom. Are you happy now? he asked instead. Get me some orange juice or get the hell out.

Momentarily stunned, Owen quickly regained his stoic composure. Teague's therapist, Dr. Rawlings, had warned him that he would say things like this for quite a while until he became more adjusted to his situation. She explained that thoughts like this, though common, should neither be ignored nor taken too seriously. It was confusing, Teague was confusing, and now Owen was beginning to wonder if things were ever going to get any better.

Do you want me to call Dr. Rawlings? he asked him, emphasizing the name.

Screw Dr. Rawlings. What can she do for me? Teach me how to deal? Teach me to hold my head high? All of you people can go to hell.

Teague once again was drinking the vodka straight out from the bottle. The smell singed Owen’s nostrils causing him to take hold of the bridge of his nose and stare. Things were so desperate now, and though he had hoped that he would never have to consider the course that he was now taking, he knew that something had to change before his son drank himself into the hospital or worse.

I've arranged for someone to live with us for a while, he said, clearing his throat. Teague stopped drinking and the vodka bottle hit the hardwood floor with a THUD.

What do you mean? he hazily asked.

Owen wasn't quite sure how to explain himself because even he was not entirely sure what was going to happen, or even if he was making a wise decision, but when he remembered the offer being made to him, he had hoped that it would never actually come to this.

But it had.

A young girl…err…a young woman is going to be living with us for a while.

Aww dad, did you manage to get a girlfriend during my time of need? the son joked nastily. I knew you were quite popular in this town.

She will be here for you.

The boy’s face didn’t change, but obviously his attention had been caught.

What do you mean she will be here for me? Like a nurse or something - someone to make sure that I don't kill myself? Save your money. I'm too tired to come up with anything interesting.

She's not here for that, she's just here to provide you with some company.

I have plenty of company, Teague went on and sloppily found his vodka bottle and picked it up again. Perhaps you’ve met?

Well she's coming, whether you like it or not.

Great, Teague grumbled as the vodka sloshed down his throat. All Teague wanted to do was not remember, not think, not care; to convince himself that this was just a part of his life that would be over soon and could be remembered as nothing more than a bad dream. He missed his ex-girlfriend MacKenzie and his friends, but he didn't miss hearing the concern in their voices. And he certainly didn't miss how they would grab his arms or loop their hands into his. It made me him feel stupid and helpless, a feeling that he never wanted to become accustomed to. Even through his drunken haze Teague could remember how MacKenzie used to look at him before the accident. She was so perfect and she made him feel the same way. Now all he could clearly remember was her voice, her perfume that reminded him of the life he once had, and the taste of her vanilla lip gloss that surely another man was enjoying by now. He hadn't seen her in months, and he didn't want her to see him: he was too ashamed of himself now.

And now, another woman was coming to the house instead.

So when is this mystery woman coming?

Tomorrow morning.

Well, then I better get ready to see her, he mumbled into the floor and finally began to sit up. He swung his legs off the bed and let them strike the floor heavily. He hated how much of an athlete he used to be. His was a figure that caught the eye of most college scouts when he was in high school, a full head taller than most of his classmates. Yet here he was now, practically unconscious from drinking too much for the third week in a row. Lacking grace, he combed his messy dark brown hair in front of his face with his fingers as if embarrassed to let anyone look at his dark brown eyes that were so much like his father’s.

Just tell me, Teague.

I swear dad, don't you ask me how long I am going to keep doing this. I heard you the first forty times you asked, he quickly responded, averting his face away from his father's voice.

I just want to know how long you plan to punish yourself for something that was obviously out of your control. Is there anything I can do?

Other than hire some strange woman to live in our house and take care of me like I'm a disabled child? I guess nothing else dad. Thanks though.

Look…I get that this still hurts but eventually you are going to have to come to accept what has happened. Besides, he went on in an uncertain and lowered voice. I really do think having someone else to talk to will help. I mean, you won't even let your friends visit.

Why should they have to come to visit me? Teague interjected, but his father pressed on.

Perhaps this will be a good thing for you.

A good thing?! the boy chuckled darkly and proceeded to speak in his hazy tone. Yes, I can see it now, once promising college baseball star Teague Ainsley now gets to live out in the sticks with his father, supposedly visit a therapist twice a week to talk about feelings, and now I get to have some stranger laugh at me. Hopefully she can laugh quietly.

She isn't going to laugh at you, the father promised.

Oh bull, everyone is laughing at me. I'm a fool, the boy went on groping for the bottle again. I should have never looked away… he whispered to himself before taking another large gulp from the plastic bottle. I should have never looked away from that stupid pitcher. I knew that kid had a problem with me. His voice was becoming less groggy with every word and he also seemed to be unaware of how loudly he was speaking.

He didn't do it intentionally.

It doesn't matter whether he meant it or not. It happened, so shut up and stop trying to make me feel better. You suck at it and so does everyone else. You said this girl is coming. I'm not fighting you about it so why don't you just get the hell out and leave me alone, his voice was maddeningly calm as he finished making his demands.

I just want you to take it easy with the drinking…for her sake, and your own, the father added slowly as he began to back out of the room. His son lifted his head at the sound of his father's footsteps leaving the room. His hair was long enough that he could hide his secret temporarily behind his dark messy locks, but when his blank look finally made its way toward the doorway, even Owen couldn't hide his shock at how different his son looked.

Why? Teague challenged him as if he could see his father. Worried that I'll drink myself blind? It's a little late dad.

Chapter Two

Nearby, another argument between a teen and their father was still raging. An ancient forest lay beyond the home where Teague and his father were living, a forest so large and so deep that many people, even long time locals, did not feel any need to explore it. It was probably for the best. Deep within these woods lives another race, a race looking very human at first glance. There is, however, one important difference: they are only a foot high at the tallest and very few reach that height. High in an old fir, one particular girl in the forest - who was indeed a full foot tall - was arguing with her own father at almost the same time that Teague was arguing with his.

I don't understand. Why does it need to be one or the other? I don't think I did anything wrong! Cailin complained as she pulled her bag out from under her bed.

The Willow family has been indebted to the Ainsleys for many years, and Owen has recently called in his favor. It happens to work out that you can serve to repay his act of kindness that I owe in place of being sent to the…Darkness. He winced at the last word, as though saying it caused him physical pain.

But why me? she shouted, her voice rising in anger.

The entire clan is concerned about you Cailin. For instance your hair…

Don't say concerned - that's not the right word. Nervous. I make them all nervous because I don't conform to the ideals of the Portune. Besides, I've read that humans dye their hair all the time. What's the big deal?

You are not human.

And yet you send me to live with some. What is the difference?

They are not, he began but cleared his throat and started over. So many years have passed since he saved me that winter, Cailin. I promised that I would repay him any way I could, and he has finally called in that favor. It must be done.

Yes dad, I've heard the story. What I don't understand is why I have to take this punishment for you.

Because your punishment would otherwise be the Darkness. Cailin, I fear that you simply do not understand the seriousness of your…crimes. It is not only your hair - though I will say that it does not work in your favor. His eyes glanced at his oldest daughter's bright red hair that had once been a beautiful hue of fuchsia pink.

Then what else is it? she moaned.

Nolkrin cleared his throat again and began to speak. The Elders have been speaking about your appearance in general, Cailin. You must know that the manner in which you present yourself is not very pixi-like.

Who cares? It's make-up dad. Humans wear it – I’ve seen pictures of it in the texts.

Once again, you are not a human.

AND YET YOU SEND ME TO LIVE IN A HOUSE FULL OF THEM, Cailin shouted, turning her face away from him. To admit how much this hurt her, to learn that because of her looks and because of the way she acted that she would be punished was troubling and frightening to Cailin. As she felt her father's seemingly fragile but surprisingly strong hands fall on her shoulders she listened to the sound of his fluttering wings as he hovered near her. It was almost comforting. He was much smaller than she was, only standing six inches, while Cailin was a full foot tall. And while this was highly unusual in this particular pixi clan, the Portune swore that this was not considered when dealing out her punishment.

I know the situation is not ideal, but I would rather see my daughter in a safe home for one year with two men - one of whom saved my life - than in the Darkness for any amount of time. I think you can agree with me.

Cailin sniffed. I don’t understand why I would have to serve any time in the Darkness for something as stupid as make-up or hair dye. Nolkrin kept his lips closed, not wanting to give Cailin too much information. I hate these stupid pixi rules.

But a pixi is what you are. When Owen saved my life, I promised him one favor that could not be refused. He said that he had hoped that he would never need this favor, so you can understand my surprise when I was suddenly summoned just a few days ago…

Cailin nodded, trying to regain her pride. So that's where you were, Cailin whispered to herself.

Nolkrin nodded. He has a son now.

Cailin's painted red eyebrows lifted with interest. A son? she questioned.

Yes, about twenty years old.

A child, she scoffed with feigned disinterest.

Cailin, you are no more mature than him, so do not let the actual number of years cloud your vision. Apparently this son of his is in great need.

Of what exactly?

Owen did not say specifically, but he asked if there was any way his favor could be used to aid him.

Cailin shrugged and turned back to look at her hovering father. And what exactly are you and he expecting me to do about it? What does a twenty-year old human need with a pixi? Furthermore, what can I possibly give this son and father that you cannot?

His shoulders rose and fell with her questions. He wasn't exactly sure himself of what Owen expected her to do. All he would say is that his son has gone through a lot the past few months and just needs someone new to talk to. The son apparently wants someone who will not judge or pity him…and that is why I suggested you. You are a kind-hearted young woman, and you and he are about the same age by our standards. I doubt that another father would do him much good.

You want me to entertain some human for a year? He is human! He can go out and enjoy human civilization with his friends - in the name of Nature I do not understand why I must go there.

Would you prefer the Darkness? Nolkrin challenged his tall and defiant child.

Cailin's lips pursed. Of course I wouldn't. I don't think anyone should have to go there.

And neither do I. That is why I fought so hard to allow you to serve out your time in this way instead. I won't see another loved one go there. Never again if I can help it.

What do you mean? Cailin began but was still concerned about her own fate, I was really going to have to spend a year in the Darkness?

Half of a year, but the Portune agreed to allow you to serve your sentence in this way if it were doubled. The majority of them have been more than gracious.

I can imagine who wasn't. Cailin mumbled, trying not to think about the cold eyes that filled her memories. Why would the Portune allow her to serve her time somewhere else? What exactly was going on in this human home that her father was not expressing?

Then it is settled. As an alternative to the Darkness for six months, you will serve an Oath of Servitude to fulfill a pixi favor for one year by living in the house with Owen Ainsley and his son. I will let the Elders know that you have chosen.

Nolkrin turned then and was surprised when Cailin reached out and grabbed his elbow.

Wait! she pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice

What is it? Nolkrin asked in a surprised tone. He was not used to hearing his oldest daughter sound nervous.

Cailin was a pixi that others would cross the hall to avoid. She walked with such confidence that you couldn't help but marvel at her inner strength. Her hair fell around her like crimson waves, dancing in the movement of her steps. She wasn't the type of girl that you confided in unless you knew her well, and very few pixis in this clan did. Still, for all her rebelling Cailin was a strong, proud and independent pixi amongst the clan and that is what made the Portune so nervous - especially one very outspoken and powerful Elder.

Will they be taking my wings?

Nolkrin lowered his emerald eyes and raised them back up again to glance at his daughter's pink, white, and silver wings twitching nervously against her almost translucent back. You will have them back in one year's time. The Portune will take them before you are sent to live with the Ainsleys.

Which one? she asked hesitantly.

It is not who you think.

Who is it, father? Who will actually take my wings?

Nolkrin cleared his throat. Arzhel Ursidae. Is that acceptable?

He watched relief cross his daughter's features. Nolkrin had fought hard to choose the pixi who would remove her wings. There were certain Portune pixis who would have gotten too much enjoyment out of taking something from a Willow family member.

What do the rest of the Portune think about this? They must see the danger in this plan. Are they really alright with this? Sending a pixi, even one like myself whom I am convinced that they despise, to live in a house with two full-grown human males for one year?

"The Portune know what you know - and that is the fact that a pixi favor cannot be refused, Cailin. The