Love hurts. I only vaguely remember my days before coming to the palace. As far as I remember I'd grown up on a farm with an old couple and their grown son. They were poor so I would sometimes go without meals. The old woman who I came to know as Elizabeth was rather affectionate toward me. I felt as though she was my mother at times.
My job was to help her in the house, nothing more. I did whatever Elizabeth asked of me. She would always talk sweetly to me and give me hugs and kisses, but only when we were alone. When her husband or son was around she just gave me commands.
I quickly understood that neither of the men liked or wanted me around. They were the ones that punished me when I did anything wrong. They were the ones that beat me when I spoke. They were the ones that, in the end, decided it was time for me to go.
A few days before they actually delivered me to the small building where I would live in a cramped cage for a year, Elizabeth told me the news. She took me in her arms and hugged me tightly. There were tears in her eyes as she told me that I was being sold. I was a slave and I was going to become a playmate. She said that I deserved better than their little shack of a farm house. She told me I was special and that she loved me like a son, though I was a slave.
I distinctly remember wondering why she was crying. She had just told me I was going somewhere better and that she loved me. Shouldn't she be happy that I was going? But now it all makes sense. Elizabeth knew I would be better off, but she also didn't want to let me go.
I was positive at least one week had passed since Zayn had come to me. He had visited me a few times before, I'm assuming, Lord Payne and Liam left the palace.
I was eating a little more now, but I still felt sick. I was beginning to pull myself together again. Niall was still delivering me food and Gemma was emptying my chamber pot every so often. I hadn't left my room yet, I wasn't ready for that.
All I ever did anymore was think about Elizabeth, and how she had let me go. She was so kind to me when she didn't have to be. She treated me so well. I can never repay her that kindness.
I've always wanted to know why she truly believed I would be going somewhere better. Playmates are usually treated worse than slaves, but that day she seemed so sure that I would end up with a good boy who would treat me well. She was right, but I want to know how she could be so positive. Had it just been my innocence believing her words without hesitation because she'd never lied to me? Or was that look of certainty about her caused by some sort of premonition that she herself had whole heartedly believed? I suppose I'll never know the truth, but that doesn't stop my mind from wondering.
I heard the door opening as I faced the opposite wall. It was most likely Gemma or Niall.
"Harry," Gemma's timid voice had me rolling over to acknowledge her, "His Majesty demands an audience with you in his office."
I rolled back over at this. I wasn't going. I wasn't leaving this room until I died.
"He's going to send guards to come get you if you don't come on your own," she tried to convince me but I just shook my head no.
Let them come. Maybe they'd kill me for defying the king. Maybe this would be it.
"Please Harry," she begged and I felt a pang of guilt.
She'd been helping me through all of this. I was worse than a baby. I was taking up so much of her time and making no effort to lighten her load. I only felt myself leaning on her more as I half-heartedly tried to get better.
I decided it was time to try and speak. It would be bad, but I owed it to her. I whispered at first, knowing my voice would be shaky and rough from its long rest.
