The Caged Princess

Li Yue sat still as the palace attendants dressed her, their hands practiced and precise as they wrapped layers of silk around her slender frame. The fabric was exquisite—red, embroidered with golden dragons that twisted and coiled along the hem, a symbol of prosperity and power. But to her, the weight of the garment felt suffocating, as if she were being bound in chains she could not break.

A marriage dress.

Her reflection in the bronze mirror revealed a girl barely past nineteen, with delicate features that belied the turmoil inside her. Her dark eyes, shaped like crescent moons, were unwavering, though a storm raged beneath their surface. Tonight, she would leave behind everything she had ever known. Tonight, she would become the bride of a man she had never met—a warlord feared throughout the land.

Warlord Feng Xuan.

His name carried the weight of blood and conquest. He was a man who had crushed armies beneath his heel, whose mere presence turned battlefields into graves. And now, he would be her husband.

Li Yue clenched her hands in her lap. She had always known that as a princess, her fate would never be her own. She had been raised to understand duty, to bear the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders. But knowing it did not make it easier to accept.

A soft sigh drew her attention. Her nursemaid, Madam Rong, stood behind her, her face lined with worry. The older woman had been with her since childhood, tending to her like a mother would.

"My lady, the hour draws near," Madam Rong murmured.

Li Yue nodded. "I know."

Her voice was steady, but her heart pounded against her ribs.

She turned back to the mirror, watching as another attendant secured a delicate gold hairpin in her dark locks. The pin was adorned with a phoenix—another symbol of resilience, of rebirth. How ironic, she thought bitterly. There would be no rebirth for her, only a slow withering inside the iron walls of Feng Xuan's stronghold.

The sound of approaching footsteps made the attendants stiffen. The carved wooden doors to her chamber slid open, and Li Yue rose, her silks whispering as they moved.

Her father, Emperor Li Jian, stepped inside.

Once, he had been a mighty ruler. Now, he was a man worn thin by years of war and loss. His once-proud stature was bent slightly, his hair streaked with silver. The lines on his face told the story of sleepless nights, of countless negotiations that had led to this moment.

"Yue'er," he said softly, using her childhood name.

"Father," she greeted, bowing her head.

There was a pause. Then he walked forward, lifting her chin gently. His gaze held sadness, regret, but also resignation.

"I would not send you if there were another way," he said. "But this is the only path to peace."

Peace.

The word was a cruel illusion.

For the past decade, the kingdom of Yue had been locked in a brutal war with Feng Xuan's forces. Their soldiers were outnumbered, their cities burned, their people suffering. Her father had fought to hold the empire together, but Feng Xuan was relentless. Now, the only thing keeping the kingdom from complete destruction was this marriage treaty.

Li Yue knew all of this. She had memorized the numbers, had heard the desperate whispers of advisors when they thought she wasn't listening.

She was not naïve enough to believe this marriage was anything more than a transaction.

And yet, knowing did not lessen the bitterness on her tongue.

"I understand," she said finally.

Her father exhaled slowly. "You are strong, Yue'er. Stronger than you know."

She did not feel strong.

But she nodded anyway.

The palace was eerily quiet as she walked through its grand halls for the last time. Lanterns flickered, casting long shadows against the crimson walls. Every step she took echoed, as if the palace itself mourned her departure.

At the main courtyard, a grand procession awaited. A gilded carriage stood at the center, its lacquered surface gleaming under the moonlight. Guards in ceremonial armor lined the path, their faces unreadable. At the foot of the steps, her younger brother, Li Wei, stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Jiejie," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You don't have to go."

Li Yue's heart clenched.

Wei was only fifteen, still too young to understand the true weight of war. He saw her as his beloved elder sister, not as a pawn in a game of survival.

"If I don't go, our people will suffer," she said gently. "This is my duty."

"But it's not fair!" he burst out. "He's a warlord! A brute! You deserve more than this—"

She reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. "Wei, listen to me. You must grow strong. One day, you will rule. And when that day comes, you must be wise enough to make choices that hurt."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"Promise me you will take care of Father," she whispered.

Wei swallowed hard, then nodded.

She smiled faintly, then turned and stepped into the carriage.

The doors shut behind her.

The wheels began to roll.

And Li Yue left her home behind.

The journey to Feng Xuan's stronghold was long, the road winding through mountains and rivers. Days passed in silence, interrupted only by the occasional sound of hooves against dirt, the murmurs of soldiers riding alongside her carriage.

On the seventh night, they reached their destination.

Feng Xuan's fortress loomed in the distance, a monolithic structure of black stone, its towers piercing the sky. Unlike the delicate beauty of the imperial palace, this place was built for war—its walls thick, its gates towering, its very presence an unspoken warning.

As the carriage rolled to a stop, the doors were opened, and she was helped down.

A man waited for her.

Feng Xuan.

He was nothing like she had imagined.

She had pictured a brute, a monstrous warlord with scars and cruelty in his gaze. Instead, he was a man in his prime, tall and commanding, his features sharp and unreadable. His dark robes were lined with silver, his long hair tied back with a simple band. But his presence was as heavy as a storm, and his eyes—dark, assessing—felt like they could peel back her very soul.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.

Then, he spoke.

"Princess Li Yue." His voice was deep, steady. "You belong to me now."

A cold wind swept through the courtyard.

Li Yue lifted her chin, meeting his gaze without fear.

"I belong to no one," she said.

A flicker of something crossed his eyes. Amusement? Challenge?

Then, he smirked.

"We shall see."

And with that, she was led inside the warlord's fortress—her new prison.