"It would help if I could count," she laughed, glancing at the two torches she held and the three remaining brackets she needed to fill.

Shaking her head, she inserted the torches and headed back to gather the missing supplies. She didn't mind the walk and it helped she was never rushed in her tasks.

This was her favorite time of day in the castle. About now, everyone was moving here and there, talking and laughing while they went about their responsibilities. The castle was so full of life around this time, it warmed her heart.

"Forgot something I see," Alfred said with a knowing smile.

"You knew the second I walked by, didn't you, old man?" she asked good-naturedly.

"Who? Me?" He put on an exaggerated look of innocence.

She laughed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Alfred and his wife Iliana were wonderful people. They had worked in the castle for the majority of their lives. Alfred's natural talent with complexity, a handy skill for the man in charge of the cleaning staff, had been inherited in excess by two of their three sons, who now worked as the smith and ferrier.

Iliana, though, was truly gifted in the kitchen. She created meals that drew tears of happiness from her diners, and pastries that made the palate seem to dance! But her true joy was teaching her and Alfred's third son, Jean. Hours passed with talks of spices and seasoning, baking, and the proper use of a skillet. Jean hung on her every word, fascinated by the kitchen and magical confections his mother made.

They were an adorable family.

Two weeks had gone by working alongside everyone and getting to know them and their stories. She'd found contentment in the company of these people and their simple lives filled with love and laughter. Their days contained lots of hard work though, and were thankful to have more hands.

They welcomed her with open arms, treating her like a member of the community. There were no words for how happy it made her, nor how grateful she was to have a place.

She helped with various tasks, from walking the halls to replace torches, to sweeping the "safe" sections of some rooms. Strange tubes needed to be refilled behind one of the walls in the northeast corridor with what looked like darts, and even chunks of tar had to be added to boiling pots over the gates. And in the mornings, she tended the rose garden.

There was always more work to be done.

Just ahead, Francois turned the corner, smiling when he caught sight of her. "Well, madam! It seems the dress does fit!"

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She smiled broadly and took up the edges of the dress he'd made, performing a spin and curtsey. "It does, monsieur, fits like it was made for me."

Francois laughed. "It most certainly was. Excellent, excellent, excellent!" Clapping, he matched her dramatic flair with a deep bow as he passed her, turning to back away while maintaining the bow. "May the day bring you the joy you would otherwise find in a lover's smile, madam!" He turned the corner, now out of sight.

A touch of sadness may have creased her smile, but only for a moment. So fast, it may not have even been there.

There were awkward moments, of course. Times where her new family would cast funny looks. She even accidentally scared the groundskeeper once. Why he had been so frightened by her carrying a sword up to him was beyond her. She'd simply found it and wondered where it should be kept. It was almost as though he believed she was going to kill him!

But despite the odd moment here and there, they fed her, clothed her in more than rags, and shown compassion. And more importantly, they treated her as an equal.

"I'll not be interested in that," Doran's deep voice floated down the hall, followed by another too quiet to understand.

She smiled again. None had accepted her like Doran, though. He was in charge of the staff and the only one who got close to "Ol' Grumpy." Any question she had about the Lord of the castle and how to stay on his good side, Doran answered with unending patience.

"I said I'll not be interested!" his booming voice repeated, followed closely by a loud bang as though he slapped the table. "Freedom is your claim. Power is your bait. I see through his game, alright. Can't work these halls as long as I and not keep your wits about you."

"Wits? You have wits?" She teased, pushing her way into the room.

Doran smirked at her jab. "Aye, one or two left. What brings ya back so quickly?"

"Oh, you know, someone said you were talking nonsense with Trenton here," she indicated the young man sitting next to Doran, seeming to be calming himself.

"Nonsense? Nonsense! Who would call the drops of golden wisdom I am spitting forth nonsense?"

"I don't think those drops are of wisdom, pa," Trenton mumbled, and she choked on a laugh.

"Go easy on the boy, Doran. Everyone wants to see the world." With the retrieved torch in hand, she headed back to her task.

"Bah," Doran replied gruffly, waving his hands in mock dismissal.

They'd definitely had a disagreement of some sort. It wasn't entirely uncommon. Trenton was Doran's son, and his only living family.

She liked Trenton immensely, like a younger brother. He was driven, idyllic, and passionate. Not unlike so many young men who wanted to change the world. Lately, he'd been interested in leaving the castle and set out on his own with some sort of blessing from the Lord of the castle.

Doran was very much against it, which she understood. How could it be anything other than hard for your only child to be away from home for so long?

But those moments never got in the way of his good nature. He'd taken her under his wing as if she were his daughter, and she'd grown strangely attached to the bear of a man. His booming laugh was inoffensive and filled with joy. More than once he had to explain to her the ways into the servants' corridors, and each time he would walk away shaking his head, mumbling about how some just know and others just don't. A fatherly figure indeed.

As he mentioned in their first meeting, she could only work the back half of what he called Ol' Grumpy's room. There were also several sections throughout the grounds where someone would tell her she was getting too close to the "aggro zone" and they'd usher her back a bit.

She didn't really understand their "walk here, not there" rules, but she carried on nonetheless. Minor rules like that were certainly no game-changer for her.

She was happy, content.

For two weeks.