He is My Lord

Ilija

London, England 1422

Sometimes all we want and all we need is an escape from everything that holds us grounded. We want to escape the people, the memories, the thoughts, the choices, and mostly life itself. It is on these days that you catch yourself drifting to a faraway dream. Somewhere, anywhere, anything that could give you the escape you need. It's on these days where you close your eyes and wish you were alone, the only human or supernatural soul left on earth. These days are when all you need is to not be who you are for a few hours and not have to think, or to feel, or to be felt, or be spoken to. It's on these days when you just wish to do one thing. Breathe.

I just want to breathe.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was sharp making my heart jump. Everything had been so quiet and I was so lost in thought that hearing his voice had scared me. However realizing what he is asking me made me angry. What am I doing? What does he mean what am I doing? I'm doing exactly what he ordered me to do.

"I'm scrubbing your floor, my Lord." I said trying to push the annoyance out of my voice. He didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence standing there, looking at me.

I bet he enjoys watching me scrub his floor with this poor excuse of a brush. This thing is just big enough to fit in my mouth. I wonder what it's really used for. I refuse to believe it's made to scrub floor. That's just...torture.

His heavy leather booths made the floorboards creak and when they stopped right in front of me; I had no other choice but to look up.

"Where's my blonde?" His green eyes bore into mine, and his tall intimidating frame looked like it would swallow me whole. I can't. I can't let him do this to her because I couldn't live with myself if I knew I'm the one to blame for the loss of an innocent life.

"I don't know, maybe running for the hills." I sent him a sickly fake smile not even trying to cover up my annoyance with him this time.

"Mm, funny."

The way he said it was like he didn't even mind my tone or sarcasm which truly makes me want to panic, and I had every reason to panic; a calm Harry can in no way be just a calm Harry.

"I didn't mean to say that my Lord, I'm just doing what I have been told. I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness, my Lord. I was completely out of place." I stammered out making my voice come out a little shaky to make him think I really did regret my words. However he didn't buy it.

"If so, then where is my blonde?" he asked raising an eyebrow at me. I refuse to do that. I refuse to be the one to blame for innocent lives being taken. I refuse to hand over innocent girls to him, he must know that.

I refused to answer, but that only seemed to anger him as he stepped closer. "You have until nightfall to fetch me someone and she better be good." he snared, anger dripping from his voice.

"Why can't you get her yourself?!" I snapped and immediately knew that I had made a mistake. He smirked for just half a second, but it was enough for me to realize what just happened. It was all a test. He knew what buttons to push because all he needs from me is to give him a reason to kill me, and I'm afraid I just did.

"You don't speak to me that way." he hissed stepping forward, "If you don't want to get me what I asked for, then you will have to do." I felt my eyes almost pop out of my head.

"No my Lord. Please no."

Oh no. No. No. No. This can't be happening; please gods do not let this be happening.