The aged clock that hung on the stone wall overhead mocked you with its incessant ticking. You thought of knocking it down a peg or two by plucking its hands from its face and then ripping them to shreds in front of it so that it could never remind you of how long you'd been here ever again...but those would be the actions of a mad woman...and you refused to be mad.
No, instead you sat there, ladle in hand as you stirred the stew every ten minutes or so to ensure it was cooking thoroughly before serving it to him.
Yep...you were still here...here being the Land of Faerie.
Your first day here had been, well, exactly how you'd expected.
After marching you through the meadows and holding your breath whenever he damned well pleased, your settling into life here had been as gruesome as it was overwhelming.
Harry's home was a modest one and you had suspected that no one as beautiful as he would be living in something so...ugly, but with time and further inspection you began to realize that things as they were now...were not how they had always been. Hints of the estates former glamour shown through in the elegant paintings that adorned the walls and intricate carvings in the stones. You could imagine a very different home altogether if you really focused hard enough on those small details but Harry would yell at you for gawking and to get back to work and all the ugliness of this place made sense.
It matched who he was on the inside.
Speaking of, his ugliness had made a wonderful appearance that first night in the form of dinner.
He'd yelled for you from your chambers and you'd sulked the whole way down and plopped unceremoniously into the chair at the opposite end of the long rickety table and stared down the length of it at the gorgeous faerie who had summoned you.
He'd had his hands folded underneath his chin, his elbows resting daintily against the table, and there had been a wild and knowing shine to his eyes that unnerved you but, you sat still and didn't waver in your stare down. He'd smiled that cruel smirk of his and then sat back, arms resting on either armrest.
"It seems it is time for feasting little lioness, and yet...we have no meal before us." You'd rolled your eyes and shrugged, not catching the hidden meaning behind his words but you weren't entirely stupid either.
"Look...the offer for my pinky finger has come and gone. I have decided I'd like to keep all my limbs, thanks." You chastised and that dark brow of his lifted ever so slightly at your tone.
"No, a pinky finger won't do...I am dreadfully famished."
"Not my problem." You replied short and direct and then he leaned forward again, lacing those fingers together to sit just below his nose, covering his delicious mouth, his long hair falling around his face.
"Go...fetch us food." He ordered and you just sat there stunned.
He did not truly expect you to go out there and hunt down a fucking squirrel.
"Um...got any money for some McDonald's?" You asked jokingly but that gleam was still there in his eyes and you knew that he was not in the mood for joking...at least...not your kind of joking.
"A lioness knows how to hunt...so don't be a mouse and bring us back some dinner," you slowly rose from the table and wandered aimlessly to the door, stressed at how on Earth you were supposed to pull this off when he spoke again, "Oh and do be quick about it mortal...I might take that pinky of yours whether you're offering or not."
With a rigid back you'd fled the confines of that blasted hellhole and rummaged through bush and tree for any sign of life when you'd finally happened upon a stream. It'd taken you a bit but you'd managed to catch two trout with your bare hands and you had been so fucking impressed with yourself that you'd practically skipped in the moonlight back to his humble abode.
With soaked through jeans you stood in the doorway to his hovel and triumphantly thrusted your scaley morsels in front of his face.
"Dinner is served oh 'odious one'." You beamed and when you saw the look of surprise on his perfect little face you turned to go to the fireplace to begin cooking them. In a flash, Harry had yanked one of the fish from your hands, was back in his chair and plunging his face into the fish like a crazed animal.
You'd dropped your own fish, pressed yourself against the cold stone wall and watched as he devoured it raw. Guts and scales spewed over the table and his fingers were now claws and you thanked your lucky stars that fish blood was thin and therefore the scene was not as gruesome as it could have been. Still...you'd never look at sushi the same again.
He'd licked the bones clean before tossing them over his shoulder and then turning his harsh angular face to yours with wide black eyes.
"May I?" He'd had the audacity to ask and you'd just nodded once before he practically jumped from his chair to a crouched position at your feet and ate your fish off of the dirty stone floor.
That had done it.
You'd ran to the window, pushed the glass open, and thrown your empty stomach up into the coiled thorn bushes just outside. The bile burned and stung your throat and pained tears streamed down your face and with three big gulps of air to calm yourself, you spun back around to see him back in his chair acting as if nothing had ever happened.
You could never forget the unforgivable cat-like grin that split his face in two at your misery.
The next few days followed exactly as that first. He'd set you to impossible tasks and enjoyed watching you seethe and growl at him in disdain. He loved it...clearly. He loved your resistance, he loved your torment, and he especially loved telling you what to do.
At the end of the first week, after catching two bunny rabbits for dinner and openly sobbing because you didn't want to kill them, Harry had plucked one from your hands and began eating it...alive.
You'd watched in horror as he purposefully chomped on bits that would keep it alive and shrieking and you held onto the one in your arms protectively as you watched on in horror. It was when the rabbit in his grasp let out a painful screech that you decided enough was enough.
You'd strode over to him and yanked the poor thing from his desperate clutches, not caring if he tore your arm off for it, and with the other bunny tucked under your arm, you broke the shredded one's neck out of pity and you felt a small part of you die with it.
Harry had looked at you exactly how you had just been looking at him.
"WHY?!" He'd shouted, practically howling as blood dripped from his parted lips, bits of fur sticking to his scary mouth.
"WHY?! You are a fucking monster!" You shouted back as if it were the most obvious thing. He'd stood abruptly, coming to take back what was his but you'd pulled it away and stormed over to the fire, tossing it into a cauldron before looking away from the other rabbit as you broke its neck as well. You let out a small whimper at killing it as Harry let out an egregious roar at the deed before you purposefully walked towards the knives and stripped the creature of its fur. You had never imagined in a million years that this would be a skill set you'd have now...but clearly it was.
You'd ignored the temper tantrum that was happening behind you but snuck a glance to find Harry standing over the cauldron and hissing like a cat.
"Why do you do this!?" He shouted, eyes incredulous, fangs bared as he pointed his clawed fingers at the cauldron that was steaming with cooking rabbit. He ran his sharp nails through his hair and pulled at the roots as he paced back and forth in front of the cooking animal and every time he passed in front of it, he'd peer in and hiss some more. His growls sounded like a dying cats and a satisfied smirk pasted itself to your face as you strutted back over to the fire and tossed the remaining rabbit in gaining another angered howl from him.
"It's called a home cooked meal Harold. Ever had one?" You smiled wickedly at him and he literally threw his hands up as if to strangle you but then thought better of it and pulled them through his hair again and picked his pacing back up, hissing and growling completely distraught.
He looked as if he could cry.
"I hate it cooked. I like it raw and juicy and alive. I like it tortured and-"
"Yeah, yeah. We've all heard this before. Go sit down or you get nothing." Harry stood tall at that, his claws in fists at his sides and his nose scrunched as if he were attempting to contain himself.
"I said...go sit down or you get no food." You had warned again, feeling a confidence in yourself that you had never known before and as you poured water and vegetables into the cauldron along with random spices and herbs he happened to have around, he finally receded...but not before stomping his foot into the ground with a loud thump, crossing his arms across his exposed chest, and pouting his lips like a petulant child.
You'd never, ever, seen anything like it and you hated to admit to yourself that you kind of liked it...enjoyed it even.
It was a side of him you'd never seen before. It was almost...human.
As you'd placed the bowls of rabbit stew in front of him and yourself, you'd watched as he ducked his head low over it and sniffed at it like it were rotting flesh. He'd poked and prodded the contents, blanching at one point as if he were going to throw up, and then finally stabbed a piece of the meat with his claw and tossed it into his mouth.
You'd watched the entire ordeal with curious fascination.
"Oh God..." he had spat the half chewed meat out, his tongue forcing it out and ending it all with a throaty "yuck."
"Aren't you being just the slightest bit dramatic?" You'd asked and he finally raised his eyes to you, face still downturned so he was peering up at you with pure and unadulterated loathing.
"Would dirt taste good to you human? Would it be dramatic if I fed you spoiled meat?!" He'd raged, pushing the bowl away from himself with a flamboyant flick of the wrist.
"The human's name is Jessie and you're going to eat every last fucking bite Harry," your tone was firm and the look on his face had made you highly aware he did not approve of it one bit, "you'll eat it and you'll like it." You said sternly and he had stared you down like he was deciding whether or not he was going to kill you or let you live.
You hadn't known where this was all coming from. This confidence of yours was going to be the actual and literal death of you but something inside of you had told you that he actually liked it. He liked being put in his place after going eons without someone holding him accountable. His green eyes danced between yours and you waited...and waited...and waited...until finally he sat back, picked up his spoon, and shoveled a large helping into his mouth. The spoon clanged against his fangs and scraped his teeth as he withdrew it, and then chewed obnoxiously before opening his mouth wide and flicking his tongue around to showcase his accomplishment.
"Good boy." You'd said with a shit eating grin on your face and even though he'd raised that eyebrow at you, and even though his mouth was in a straight, angered line, his eyes had danced with glee and you knew he was having a laugh with you and for once....not at you.
Yes, it'd been going like this now for quite some time and the clock above the fireplace was taunting you with every second that ticked by and you hoped and prayed that someday soon, he'd decide he was tired of your fiery spirit and let you leave this place...but you knew all too well that he was enjoying your company far too much now to just simply let you go.