So I left this hanging around for ages, with bits and pieces written. Sorry about that, wanted to complete some other SwanQueen stuff, needless to say that hasn't exactly worked out either as ITS is still not finished.

All I can say is this called to me, and I felt ready to pick back up on it. Sorry for such a long delay, hope can get a few chapters posted in the next few weeks and move the story along.

Struggling with first person POV and might have to slip in and out of it in later chapters to get what I want across. Hope that doens't upse tthe flow too much, but for now please enjoy Chapter 5.

Thanks to the followers and faithful, your patience and reviews are always appreciated.

It was morning and I felt like I hadn't slept. I cracked open an eyelid and the bright sunlight hit me, peaking through a gap in the heavy fabric of the drape. I was laying fully clothed on my mattress where I could feel every part of my body throbbing dully, and moving only antagonised this into a sharp and more defined sensation. But there was no choice, I had to get up, eat quickly and report to the kitchen.

It had been made clear at my dismissal yesterday I was expected to return come sun up. The thought did little to reassure me then and it filled me with dread now. If I felt like this before I started to stand all day in that pungent room, how would I ever cope after hours on my feet?

The pain was something I was coming to understand, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. My body hadn't been made for the land, every moment spent stood upright was against my natural posture. My legs hurt slightly less than my back and arms, because they had already had weeks of strain and had become used to bearing me. They were still unused to the long days bearing my full weight, but the rest of my body had never had to bend or exert itself and use the muscles now expected of it. So while my legs hurt, it was mild in comparison to my biceps and back that were burning, combusting torturously with every flex.

My arms had carried piles of plates, the muscles that had been strong from swimming and pulling me through the water had softened in my four weeks in the hospital. The movement I had continually repeated yesterday, lifting crockery, transporting buckets of water and rubbish, was foreign and used different parts of my arms to the swimming. It meant my arms were now stiff, and they screamed at me when I moved them to push aside the blanket and uncover my body.

Gingerly I placed my feet on the flagstone floor and closed my eyes. Using my arms and legs in tandem to push myself into a standing position the pain flashed behind my closed eyes and I bit hard on my lip. It wouldn't have mattered if I had cried out, no-one would have heard it, but it was a human habit I suppose to suffer in silence and muffle pained moans. I was no exception, holding back a scream behind my teeth, letting it come out as a hiss of air instead.

Once in a standing position I somehow found the ability to move. I did a quick study of myself and surroundings, seeing a wash basin I splashed cool water against my sticky eyes, each bend and movement feeling like fire in my muscles. I chanced a look down at my clothes which were creased and I made a mental note to myself not to sleep in them again. At least they were clean on the previous night but looking at the other girls milling in the bedchamber I felt self-conscious. They had braided or brushed hair and they clearly hadn't slept in their clothes. It was then I felt a brush thrust into my hand as the other girls started to file out. I quickly smiled at the unexpected generosity and made quick work of taming my blonde mane. Dropping the brush on my bed I left the room as well, my legs screaming at me to stop walking and sink back into the bed.

I had to ignore the voice, so blinked my eyes until they cleared of tears and lifted my head. I got out of the doorway, then carried on down the corridor toward breakfast. With each step I thought I would fall and I am uncertain even now how I found the determination to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I think it took lots of clenching my jaw, closing my eyes against tears and deep breaths, focussing on anything than my own body that felt like it was trying to self-destruct.

I took notice of everything I could, using it as a distraction. The cold air in the corridors, the rough stone they were carved from. The decorations hanging, tapestries and painted art works, anything that meant I could ignore the steady throb of my feet as they carried me around the castle.

This was a mental battle as much as it was a physical one. I knew that, and I could be strong and stubborn. It was what had ultimately caused me to turn away from my father and the underwater kingdom. I could survive, I had made this decision and refused to give up. I was weary but had also quickly accepted I had no choice. I had agreed to this life, the sooner I adapted and embraced it the better. I could still think positively, that this wasn't a bad decision, I was just in a bad place. Eventually the pain would ease and there should still be a good outcome, I needed to push past the unpleasant present and focus on a greater goal, the future.

And with each new day it became slightly easier, I developed coping mechanisms for the pain and made sure I always bathed to relax by body after my time in the kitchen. I ate well to keep my strength up and didn't allow the whispering in the shared room to keep me awake. I found if I slept well that sleep was a universal cure for my body and soul, both of which were being tested and tortured during the long days.

I found communal sleeping odd at first but knew I was safe with the women in the room. They had shared their brushes and combs for my long blonde hair when I arrived, supplied me loose fitting cotton sleepwear after that first night as I had no idea where clothes were kept and did their best to be welcoming.

They were all employed for various uses in the castle. Some were cleaners, some cooked and I recognised them as the ones who tended to pass the pots and pans to me rather than throw into the sink somewhat carelessly at me during the working day. Some worked in the gardens, and their skin was more golden and brown than the others. I looked at my pale skin and felt self-conscious but knew there was little I could do, I wasn't used to the sun and was so pale any exposure would likely cause redness and blisters and more importantly, more pain. I would have to stay pale.

The women tried to communicate and I had learned to communicate for simple things with gestures and facial expressions. I smiled and nodded at my bed mates when entering and leaving the room, often listening discretely to their conversations while I readied myself for sleep. I kept my small area of the room clean and tidy, trying to fit in where without a voice it was increasingly difficult.

It was an adjustment period, I had never known that level of pain or had been forced into such a structured way of living. My time was rarely my own but within that I found something soothing. I didn't have to think too much, I knew what was expected of me and also what to expect. I slipped into the routine, where I often found myself standing silent by a cooling sink of water, alone but trying not to think of that. I focused on making it through each day, thinking of the bath and dinner. During the communal activities there would be chatter and I would feel a part of life again as people bustled around me and were more welcoming without the burden of work.

Ruby always greeted me with a warm smile and gentle touch on my arm, she would talk about her day and her Granny and I began to hope she would be the bather on duty even if she didn't bathe me personally. She would always catch my eye and make me feel part of the castle community with just her soft look and easy smile. I still felt like and outsider, but there were people trying to ease that discomfort and to them I was grateful.

And for a few weeks my life narrowed to getting up, breakfast, going to the kitchen and scrubbing until I was finally released from my working day to be bathed, eating again and then falling exhaustedly into bed.

It was in the kitchen I struggled most, because it was so busy there was very little chance for casual conversation. People shouted commands and confirming responses, there was no part I could witness or involve myself in. I was separated by a solid wall from the stoves and fires of the main room and it seemed very much that as I was out of sight I was also out of their thoughts

I was mostly ignored, I am sure many of the girls and other serving wenches didn't speak to me because they thought I was an idiot. That because I was mute and didn't speak I also failed to understand. They possibly assumed I was deaf and dumb and didn't look any further, but whatever reason very few people interacted with me and my existence in those first few weeks was unbearably lonely and harder than I had ever imagined.

I had always been independent, I enjoyed my own company and often shunned the merfolk and their forms of contact with each other. But it had always been through choice that I shied away from interaction. Having that choice taken away bothered me than I ever realised it would.

I missed the ease of speaking, if I came from behind someone they were often surprised by my presence, turning with a harsh comment or anger in their eyes to mask their surprise. Sometimes they would follow through and snap at me, other times the angry look would fade to pity and that was as bad as the hurtful comments. I wish I could call out, engage with people, but I was stuck with my own thoughts and no way to vocalise them. Even the girls in the bedchamber were still friendly but their smiles were pitying after I failed to respond to their morning greetings with anything other than a wave and a smile.

During those hard first days, where I was hot, sweaty and ignored I was tempted on more than one occasion to leave the castle. To walk to the water's edge and continue walking, submerging myself until my lungs filled with water and my body stopped hurting as it gave up the fragile hold I had on life. I very nearly laughed, life wasn't what I had. I had naively expected the sun to beat on my skin and warm me, to easily find a companion and have them laugh with me, to run and share smiles. That would be life, a worthwhile compromise to what I had given up.

What I had here was worse than my watery prison. At least there I had people I could talk with, a father who loved me and tried to protect and care for me. All I felt now was the biting sting of loneliness, rejected by some of the others because I was different and unable to fully integrate with the rest because I could not respond to them. It wasn't what I thought life was. This was torture, slow, painful and had it continued like that then I am ashamed to say I do not know what would have happened.

It had been many days, many days of plate washing, so much so that my skin had built a tolerance to the harsh abrasive nature of the dish soap. My hands no longer stung, or got as red and itchy or had dry and flaky patches. I knew where the dustpan and brush lived, the mop and bucket and various scrubbing cloths. I spent my days taking the food waste out to the back of the castle, it going into a big container that never seemed to fill up. I felt pity for the poor person who emptied it but didn't pay it any more thought as I heard more grease streaked pans being brought from the kitchen rattling against the metal of the sink.

It had actually got to the point where I could clear the piles of dishes, scrub the cutlery and have a few moments rest before the next piles of dirty crockery arrived. I had managed to multitask and manage my time, the weeks of practice honing my skills. And while washing plates was probably one of the most menial and lowly tasks in the castle, I felt a stirring of pride that I was proficient at it. There had been a time when I first saw that small room and the work expected of me that I had wanted to turn around and flee back to the water. Now I was able to find time to peek into the kitchen and slyly observe, leaning against the doorway nonchalantly. Once or twice I had even been called over to take the greasy baking trays from the kitchen, rather than have them slung at me by some hot and bothered kitchen hand.

One day when I had a few moments spare after taking out the food scraps I was enjoying the fresh air and stretching my aches and pains out in the warmth of the sun. Stood leaning against the cool stone wall of the castle I watched the pigs being released into their pen and feed. They amazed me, seeing them from a distance I expected they would be slow as they were quite solidly built and I assumed not very clever but they immediately walked to the feeding trough with a speed I found fascinating. Some of them stopped to get petted by the pig keeper and you could see the joy as they seemed to smile underneath their snouty noses as he scratched behind their ears. They knew exactly where the food was and I quickly realised they were intelligent.

However intelligent they might be, it did still turn my stomach when I realised the foul smelling scraps I believed to be waste had been mixed with some other type of food stuff and that was what was being poured into the troughs. Despite not being free the animals were happy and content and rolled in the mud and made the best of their existence in their pen. I watched as the pigs happily devoured everything, seeing for the first time how interconnected life in the castle was.

It was a moment of clarity for me. I had initially allowed my pain and then the distraction of coping with my job and life changes to keep me blind to the bigger picture. The pigs were caged, but were not allowing that to hamper their existence. I need not been so confined, I had to work as directed, but I had not even explored beyond the rooms I had to exist in.

And more so I realised that life at the castle was diverse, existing far beyond the kitchen, bed chambers, bathing rooms and dining hall. I looked up and saw the fields and buildings stretching for miles and it amazed me, and made me think that I needed to be more aware of life around me. I had wasted many days that I didn't have wallowing, trying to find my place in this new world, but all I had done was shut it out, my mind unready or unwilling to deal with the magnitude of change I had forced on it by leaving the only home I had known.

I needed to embrace this new world, to reach out and interact. I needed to be more aware of my surroundings and not allow myself to become distracted. I knew the girls in my bedchamber cooked, cleaned, tended the garden, but the castle was vast. There must be so much more going on and I decided then I should investigate what other jobs humans did here.

Other thoughts quickly followed, if I had allowed myself to become so isolated and accepted the routine so easily then what else had I missed? Because it seemed we all played a part and maybe I could change the part I played. No-one else was going to help me fulfil my bargain with the Sea Witch, I needed to make that change myself. And if I failed and continued to be mute my whole life, then I needed to make it a good life. If I watched and showed an interest maybe I wouldn't be stuck washing dishes forever. I smiled, feeling a new warmth filling me that had nothing to do with the sun before hurrying back to wash the next load of plates and cooking utensils.

I didn't know it then, but do now, that in my relaxed pose I was being observed. Beautiful brown eyes watched me from beneath the shade of a tree at the edge of the field. My long blonde hair glowed as did my sun warmed skin, catching the lingering gaze and causing a smirk to fall onto darker, sun brushed and beautiful features. My watcher liked what she saw and made a note to herself to try and cross paths a little closer next time.

Oblivious to the interest I had piqued I was busy making a promise to myself that I would engage more. Unfortunately without being able to speak this meant most of my efforts were going to be contained to watching carefully what took place around me and walking the castle corridors and gardens where I had unfettered access in the early mornings or evenings. But I decided to work on this plan of action, I had nothing to lose.

I learned quite early into my explorations that there were security guards and locked doors in some areas, clearly indicating access was restricted, but I began to see more life, more people. The guards would nod at me as my face became familiar to them, the animals in their pens welcomed me with muzzles or snouts for petting. In the stables I saw the size and athleticism of the horses. It didn't matter to them that I couldn't speak, they were more than content with being stroked by my hand, if only the inhabitants of the castle were so easily placated.

Life outside did seem just a little more relaxed, more simple. The gardeners, much like the stable hands didn't seem to fear my mutism and always smiled warmly. I felt slightly less lonely as the older gentlemen would speak to me about the types of flowers being planted or the next harvesting cycles. They took pride in their work and were enthusiastic, despite my silence. I paid attention, the fruit trees were hanging low with their burdens, so nearly ripe. I knew I could expect apples to be delivered in the kitchen next week for cooking into desserts, and smiled, I had taken quite a liking to them with their sharp sweetness.

It had been my choice to explore but sometimes it isn't the decisions you make for yourself that change your life. Sometimes you just have to be lucky, in the right place, at the right time. It appears there is sometimes a greater force at work, pulling us through life and placing us where we need to be. At the time it didn't seem like luck, and I would never have chosen the circumstances given the choice but I can see with hindsight the benefits were far reaching and life changing.

My explorations would not have allowed me to bond and become closer to someone that ultimately set me on a better path, so even though the circumstance was sparked by my failure and I would never have wished for it, the outcome more than made up for the embarrassment and short term pain I endured.

This is how I formed my first real bond of friendship within the castle, and it was as unexpected and strange to me, despite being so very welcome.

I left my now clean but still dingy room to use the toilet and as had become habit, I had learned to tread softly and draw very little attention to myself. I went to slip silently into my position in the back room. On my way through I picked up a pile of dirty dishes that had been left for me.

They were stacked haphazardly at the back of the kitchen. I bent slightly and got them into my hands and set off towards my doorway, knowingly cutting myself off once again from life. As the dishes held my main focus I must have slipped slightly in some puddled water that I hadn't seen on the floor. Then suddenly I wasn't sliding anymore, my momentum shifted, unable to stabilise myself I found I was falling. Suddenly I was moving toward the hard surface of the floor face first.

The clatter and smashing of the plates suddenly made me the sole focus of attention in the room. I had for the most part been ignored in the kitchen, treated like I didn't exist. Now I was being stared at by every single eye in the kitchen, including the Head Cook.

I was shocked from the jolt of slamming into the stone and unyielding floor. It was also cold and I felt the water I had slipped on seep into my blouse but I felt unable to move, partly in shock and mostly because all of me hurt from the impact. I had been jarred, the impact travelling up my knees and then up my back. My hands had been scraped and cut open both by the floor and by bits of broken crockery and yet instinctively I knew I had to get up to salvage the unbroken china and clear away the broken dishes.

Gingerly I got onto my hands and knees and then used the edge of a table to pull me up. There was muttering and clearly the other girls were whispering about me. No-one came to help and I felt how different I was stab into me. If I could talk, if I had cried out, maybe someone would care enough to offer aid. As it was this incident only heightened my feeling of isolation. They didn't care about me, I was just the lowly serving girl who washed the plates. I had been deluded thinking I could learn castle life and find some acceptance. I was nothing and was going to be treated like that all the while I couldn't tell them any differently. I either stayed and allowed it, or broke my contract and ran away.

I turned my back to the behaviour in the kitchen. The other women had stopped short of pointing and laughing but the whole situation still made me sad, angry and uncomfortable and I ducked my head and walked as best I could into my room to take a few steadying breaths before collecting the dustpan and going to clean up the mess I had made. I didn't look up, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I felt their eyes still on me, watching and judging. I was beginning to hate them and found I hated myself almost as much.

I had done this, I made this choice. I had been arrogant and now was paying for it. Two cycles of the moon had pasted and I was no nearer forming any kind of friendship, let alone bonds for a marriage. I scrapped the brush over the floor with hard and aggressive strokes, but they did little to ease my frustration.

At the time I didn't realise but my discomfort was noticed by the Head of Kitchen, who had stood studying me for a long period before glaring at the girls who immediately stopped their whispering and dropped their eyes to the counter top and went back to work.

As I went back to my room she left her task and strode confidently and purposefully across the kitchen.

Upon entering my dank little hole she found me with a bowed head. I was leaning my weight on the edge of the sink and breathing heavily and unevenly as I struggled with the pain, I was bleeding freely from my hands and knew I couldn't put them in the water to wash up. I didn't know what to do.

I was silently shaking with unshed, repressed tears, both from pain and from the embarrassment. I felt a presence and knew she had walked in, turning to see her stood firmly in the dim light. She had never come into this space, never spoken directly to me. I tensed expecting a verbal lashing for breaking the expensive plates, fear must have been clear in my eyes.

She surprised me by gently raising her arm, placing her hand on my arm and squeezing with a reassuring pressure. She didn't speak, at least not with a raised voice to berate me. Instead she gave me support and her silence was comforting, unlike the constant loneliness I always seemed to find in my silent existence.

She took my hands and turned them over seeing the blood oozing from the palms and her gentle touch and behaviour melted any façade I had managed to hold together from the last few weeks. I cracked and suddenly the hot tears I had been trying to hide leaked silently from my eyes. My misery, uncertainty about my choice and deal with the Sea Witch and silence and loneliness I found myself surrounded by more and more caused a silent sob to come from the back of my throat. And then the sting as tears were cascading down my face for her to witness.

And she let me cry, she didn't judge, there was understanding in her gaze, a kindness that wasn't pity in her eyes. She had pulled me to her and was rubbing soothing circles on my back, her touch conveying hope and faith. She soothed me, rocking gently and making whispered comments about "everything working out" and "it being darkest before the dawn". Her words didn't matter, although the tone of them did resonate deep within me and calm me. It was her actions, and they weren't shunning me.

Once I had calmed she arranged cover for my work so I could get my hands tended to. Ointments for the torn skin and coverings to stem the bleeding. And a promise to visit her after her work had finished for the day, to seek her out so we could talk a little.

She told me, "I know how difficult it is to be different and how hard you have to work to fit in. Let me help you?"

And I had shyly nodded.