Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

The sound of Felicity's voice carried through the chamber, thin at first, then steadier as it echoed off damp stone.

"Rightful citizens of the Iskaris Continent. I, Third Princess of the Vraven Kingdom, Felicity Primrose Amabelle Valorian, wish to tell you something."

The reaction was immediate.

A human man near the front lurched to his feet, chains snapping taut as he grabbed the bars. His eyes stretched wide. "Stop it," he barked hoarsely. "You think this is funny? This is no place to play pretend."

Another laughed. There was something wrong in the way he laughed. "A princess? In a place like this?" He spat to the side. "Say something believable."

A woman sporting many signs of abuse and neglect all over her body scoffed. "The Third Princess? Isn't she like 14 years old? She should be in her royal palace, enjoying her little tea parties."

Others leaned forward in silence with their eyes narrowing. They studied her face. The slope of her nose. The color of her eyes. The line of her jaw.

"She looks like the posters," someone whispered.

"No way..." another hissed.

Felicity's gaze shifted.

It settled on the woman who had spoken, the one whose arms and neck still carried marks of a life no one should be subjected to.

Felicity did not flinch.

She did not look away.

Her eyes traced what had been done to her, slowly, as if forcing herself to see every detail, to understand the cruelty of this world in full.

Her shoulders drew in slightly.

"Yes…" Felicity whispered. "You are right. I should be at home, living a life of obscene indulgence and ignorance."

She lowered her eyes for a moment, fingers curling against her armor.

"But I can't."

Then, her head lifted, and her expression became determined.

"I refuse to shut my eyes and enjoy my privileges while my fellow denizens of Thalorind are treated like this under my family's rule."

She stepped forward.

Past the servants. Past the overturned candle. Into the open space at the center of the chamber.

The torchlight caught her fully now. From the front. From the side. From behind. There was no angle left hidden. The light traced the familiar lines of her face, the color of her eyes, the shape that had been copied and circulated across cities and borders.

The woman who had scoffed went still.

Her breath hitched. Her mouth opened, then closed again. The color drained from her face as recognition set in piece by piece.

"That's…" she whispered. "That's her."

The men followed her stare. One's hands loosened on the bars. The other staggered back a step, then another.

The way Felicity stood finished what the light had begun.

No slouch. No hesitation. Every word she spoke was measured, practiced without sounding rehearsed. It was the kind of speech mannerism that was drilled into someone who had been corrected a thousand times since childhood. No peasant girl spoke like that. No child carried herself this way.

"I… I'm sorry," the woman said suddenly with her voice breaking. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to…"

The man who had shouted earlier swallowed hard. "Your Highness, I-I spoke out of turn."

The other bowed his head as far as the chains allowed. "Please forgive us."

Felicity looked at them.

There was no anger in her expression. No offense taken. Only something tight and heavy behind her eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

They froze.

Her hands trembled once, then stilled. She drew in a breath and bent at the waist.

A full bow.

Deep enough that her purple hair fell forward, deep enough that the title she carried meant nothing in that moment.

Shock rippled through the room.

"For what was allowed by the Valorian family due to our weakness to protect you, our citizens, I apologize. I apologize for what was ignored, for what you endured while my family name was stamped on the system that trapped you."

When she straightened, her face was damp. She did not wipe it away.

Silence held for a heartbeat.

Then it broke.

"What! No!"

The voice came from the far side of the chamber.

Dwarves had recoiled with their bodies drawn back from the bars. Their expressions held no relief, no awe. Only fear. An elf turned away, eyes closing, shoulders sagging as if something terrible had happened. "Mother Luminara, have mercy…" she whispered a prayer.

"Human royalty," a beastkin woman whispered. "This is terrible news."

A dwarf slammed his fist into the iron, the clang sharp and angry. "Greyhaven burned! That siege was clearly conducted by Elvardia! I heard the cannons of my making! So why is the human princess here?!"

The non-humans all hoped they would be greeted by Elvardian forces, not human ones. Even the beastkin whose country, the Beastman Confederation, had no ties with Elvardia.

The two nations were hostile, but at this point in their lives, any change of scenery was desired vehemently. It was a chance for a new hope, for this, this hell on Thalorind was the absolute worst. In their minds, their lives could only go up from here.

But, alas, it seemed it was not meant to be. The damned human princess was here!

Thus, hope fractured unevenly across the chamber.

Some humans stared at Felicity as if she were proof that the world had not fully abandoned them. Others, the non-humans, retreated into shadow, faces set and guarded. To them, her presence did not mean salvation.

It meant damnation.

Felicity heard everything and did not retreat from the words thrown at her.

She stood there, small beneath the torchlight, listening as fear and bitterness spilled from mouths that had learned to expect the worst from the world.

"I understand," she said quietly.

The room did not still, but the edge of the noise dulled enough for her voice to carry.

"I understand why my presence brings anger," Felicity continued. "Humans have been cruel. Not just careless, not just negligent. Cruel. To all of you."

Her fists tightened. "Your freedom was taken, stripped of name and will. Treated as tools, as goods, as objects to be traded or used up."

Her gaze moved from cage to cage, from fur to ears to calloused hands.

"This is why the three nations can never speak of peace with honesty. Because when we look at one another, we see wounds caused to us, to our loved ones, to our ancestors. The hatred of the past and present runs too deep for reconciliation."

Some of the non-humans lifted their heads, paying attention. These words coming from the human princess's mouth were shocking to say the least.

Felicity drew in a breath and asked innocently, "A new beginning. How does that sound? Who among you desires such a thing?"

No one understood her question.

"I don't mean you being sold off to a new master, or even freed... If you are freed now, you will at best return to your old lives that might no longer exist, to streets that remember you only as someone who was tortured and objectified while carrying the weight of what had been done to you."

Her voice tightened.

"That is not a new beginning. That is a cruel resumption."

Silence spread, this time deeper.

Eyes fixed on her.

"A new beginning is not going back. It is not being sold to a kinder master. It is not being told that you survived and escaped slavery, so you should be grateful."

She paused.

Then asked, simply, "Let me ask again. Who here wants a new beginning?"