Bound by Betrayal, Claimed by the Beast

Chapter 1 – The Caged Bird

The Night Yisa Was Born, a storm raged across Eldoria, its howling winds shaking the palace walls as if the gods themselves had cursed the night. Rain pounded against the grand stained-glass windows, and thunder cracked like a whip in the heavens. The servants whispered that the storm was an omen—a warning of the child that had been born within the palace walls.

Deep within the servants’ quarters, a woman lay weak and pale upon a straw mattress, her sweat-soaked hair clinging to her face. The scent of blood and damp earth filled the small room. In her arms, she cradled a newborn girl, her cries drowned out by the storm.

A palace midwife stood over them, her expression cold.

"You should not have birthed her," the woman muttered, shaking her head. "The king will not keep a bastard."

The mother, exhausted but defiant, clutched her daughter closer. "She is his child," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

"A king does not claim a mistake," the midwife snapped. "And neither will his queen."

The door swung open, and two armored guards stepped inside. Behind them stood a man in fine robes—his face shadowed, but the golden emblem of Eldoria glinted on his chest. A royal advisor.

"The king has sent word," the advisor announced. "The child will not be acknowledged."

The mother’s breath hitched. "No…"

"However," the advisor continued, "she will not be killed. She will serve the royal house."

"Serve?" The mother’s grip on the baby tightened. "She is a princess!"

The advisor’s gaze was ice. "No. She is a servant."

The mother wanted to scream, to fight—but she had no strength left. She could only press a trembling kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

"Yisa," she whispered, naming her child before the guards wrenched the baby from her arms.

Yisa did not cry as she was taken away.

Perhaps, even as an infant, she understood that no one in this world would ever weep for her.

---

A Childhood in Chains

Yisa grew up within the grand halls of the palace, but she was not raised as a princess.

She was a shadow, a ghost in her own home. The servants looked down upon her, the nobles ignored her, and the queen despised her existence.

But no one hated her more than Lysandra, the golden-haired, regal, and beloved daughter of the king.

From the moment Yisa could walk, she was made Lysandra’s personal maid—not out of kindness, but out of cruelty.

"She should learn her place," the queen had once told the king, her voice sharp like the edge of a blade. "Let her serve the daughter you actually wanted."

And so, Yisa served.

She dressed Lysandra each morning, brushed her hair until it gleamed, and laced her corsets so tightly that her fingers bled. If she did anything wrong, punishment came swiftly.

One night, when she was no older than nine, Yisa had made the mistake of letting a drop of ink spill onto Lysandra’s silk gown.

Her sister had been furious.

"Useless wretch," Lysandra spat, seizing a golden hairpin from her vanity. "Perhaps a mark will remind you to be more careful."

Before Yisa could react, searing pain exploded across her right hand.

She did not scream.

Even as the scent of burned flesh filled the air, even as her knees buckled beneath her, she did not scream.

Lysandra only smiled, watching with satisfaction as the wound blistered.

"There," she murmured, tossing the pin aside. "Now you’ll never forget who you belong to."

The scar never faded.

---

The Only Light in Her Darkness

Despite everything, there was one person in the palace who saw Yisa as something more than a servant.

James.

A stable boy with wild brown hair and calloused hands, he was just another invisible worker within the palace walls—someone no one cared about.

And yet, to Yisa, he was the only thing that made life bearable.

"You always look like a kicked puppy," James teased one evening, tossing her a stolen apple as they sat together in the stables. "Ever think about running away?"

Yisa caught the apple, rolling it in her hands. "And go where?"

James shrugged, grinning. "Anywhere. The world is big, you know."

Yisa scoffed, taking a small bite. The crisp sweetness of the fruit filled her mouth, a rare taste of something good. "And what would I even do?"

"Steal a horse," he said with a wink. "Ride into the mountains, become a bandit. You’d be good at it."

She laughed—a rare, genuine sound.

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe it. That there was something beyond these palace walls. That she wasn’t just a servant.

That she could be more.

But dreams did not last in Eldoria.

---

The Proposal That Changed Everything

The day started like any other.

Yisa had spent the morning attending to Lysandra, fastening her corset as her sister preened in front of the mirror.

"Did you hear the news?" Lysandra asked, her voice thick with excitement.

Yisa remained silent. She had learned long ago that speaking out of turn only invited pain.

Lysandra smirked. "A marriage proposal has arrived for me. The prince of Vellaria himself wants my hand."

Vellaria. A kingdom of wealth and power, one of the most influential allies of Eldoria.

"You know what that means, don’t you?" Lysandra’s voice was sickeningly sweet. "I will be a queen one day."

Yisa said nothing, focusing instead on the laces between her fingers.

Lysandra’s expression darkened. "You should be grateful. I’ve let you serve a future queen all these years."

Before Yisa could step away, a sharp slap struck her cheek.

She staggered but did not fall.

Lysandra’s laughter was like poison. "Oh, come now. Don’t look so pathetic. You’ll always be beneath me, sister."

Yisa met her gaze then, her voice steady. "I am not your sister."

Lysandra’s smile vanished.

Before she could retaliate, a knock echoed through the chamber. A royal guard entered, bowing low.

"Your Highness," the guard said. "An envoy has arrived—from the Wolf Kingdom."

Lysandra’s excitement flickered into curiosity. "The wolves?"

The guard hesitated. "They have sent… a reply to the king’s peace offering."

A ripple of tension swept through the palace.

By the time Yisa reached the grand hall, the letter had already been opened. The king stood frozen, the queen’s face was pale, and the royal council murmured in shock.

Lysandra’s mouth hung open, her hands clenched into fists.

Yisa’s heart pounded. What did the letter say?

Whatever it was…

It had changed everything.