From Chains To Crown

Emily’s POV

I woke to darkness.

Not silence — the kind of dark that breathes, whispering things you can’t quite hear. My head pounded. My limbs felt like stone.

I tried to move. Heavy chains — iron ones, cold against my skin — bolted me to the wall behind me. My wrists and ankles were bound.

I wasn’t in a hospital.

This wasn’t the recovery room.

The last thing I remembered was the doctor’s voice:

You’ll sleep a little, and when you wake, the world will be waiting.

Well, it was.

But not the world I knew.

The air was thick with mold and rot. The faint flicker of firelight slipped through a grated door across the room. Stone walls bled dampness. I could smell old blood, dried, and something more primal.

My pulse kicked. “Hello?” I whispered. “Is someone there?”

No response.

Until I heard footsteps.

Heavy boots echoed against stone. The door creaked open.

A man stepped through—towering, broad, dressed in black leathers with a crimson sash and a silver emblem on his chest: a crescent moon coiled in serpents.

He didn’t look like a doctor, or someone I’d recognize, or anything safe.

“You’re awake,” he said.

I stared, throat tight. “Where… where am I?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crouched just outside my reach and studied me like I was something strange, something beneath him.

“This is the Kingdom of Opsia,” he finally said, his tone flat, distant.

Opsia? I’d heard the name in whispers, in nightmares.

“There’s a mistake,” I croaked. “I shouldn’t be here. Please — there has to be a mistake.”

He tilted his head. “Everyone says that at first.”

“What did I do? I didn’t—”

“Enough.” His voice cut sharp and final. “You’ll find out what you are when the prince decides.”

The prince?

Before I could ask anything else, he stood and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Darkness swallowed me again.

But now, it pressed on my chest like a weight. Every creak in the stone, every flicker of shadow felt like a warning.

Why was I here?

My heart twisted. Flashes of my father’s strange behavior flickered — the way he’d avoided me for days, the sudden desperation, the quiet phone calls. Was this his plan all along?

Before I could process it, the door groaned again. Another figure entered — different this time.

A woman. I think.

She moved like a soldier. Black combat pants. High boots. A tight white shirt pulled against a powerful frame. She carried a bundle of leather clothes in one hand and a cane in the other. A silver badge — crescent moon again — gleamed over her heart.

She paused, looking me over.

If not for the soft curve of her chest, I wouldn’t have known she was female.

“Up,” she said calmly. “We don’t have all day.”

“Who are you?” I whispered.

She dropped the bundle beside me. “Valentina. Prince Damien’s First Guard. I’m not here to hurt you—unless you make me.”

I swallowed. The name alone made my stomach twist.

She knelt, undid my shackles one by one, and stepped back. It should’ve been a relief.

It wasn’t.

“Change,” she said, handing me the clothes.

She didn’t move, didn’t turn around.

I hesitated. “Could you… could you please give me a moment? I—”

“No.” Her tone was flat, final.

I turned away, cheeks burning, hands trembling as I undressed. The leather outfit was worse than I imagined—a skirt so short it might as well not exist, a top that barely covered anything. I held it to my chest, heart racing.

“I can’t wear this,” I whispered. “Please. I… I dress decently. This isn’t me.”

Valentina raised a brow. “That little speech would earn you a beating.”

My breath caught.

“But I’m not in the mood,” she added. “You’ll answer to the prince for that.”

I turned away, forcing myself into the clothes.

The fabric clung too tight, too exposed. I felt naked, humiliated.

Valentina studied me like I was a display item in a window.

She stepped closer.

“Hmm,” she said. “If he’s seen you already, you’d be in his bed by now.”

I froze. “Wh… what?”

She gave a small, cold laugh. “Relax. You’ll meet him soon.”

Something in her voice made my skin crawl.

I didn’t even notice her reattaching the chains until the metal clinked shut again.

“You didn’t answer me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Why am I here? What did I do wrong?”

She paused at the door.

Then turned back with a smirk.

“Wrong questions, girl. Better start asking who you really are now.”

My breath hitched.

But before I could speak again, she was gone.

The torch outside flickered once—then went out.

And I was alone in the dark again.

Alone. Chained. Waiting for a prince I’d never met.

But something in my chest whispered this was just the beginning.