PREQUEL: Royal Ancestors
Chapter 1

The year is 1910

Beatrice stood between the freshly dug graves, rain soaking into her black mourning dress and muddying the dirt all around her. On her left was the pine coffin that held her mother and on her right was her father; both buried in pauper’s graves. She didn’t have an umbrella as the rain pounded the ground relentlessly and she was alone, the pastor had long since left and no one else elected to attend her parents’ funeral. There was no one else. It was always just her and her parents.

Chloe Maison was a sex worker but she never let that define her. During the day, she was the best mother that Beatrice could ever ask for. She was loving, caring, and charming; always encouraging Beatrice to go after her dreams. She loved her mate and husband, and he loved her. But, times were tough, especially for a family from such a low pedigree, and so she did what she had to do to survive.

Winston Maison was a merchant but business was slow and his competitors were better. Eventually, he ran out of money and clients, and he took up gambling to make ends meet. He lied to his family, the shame too great to confess. With a debt he couldn’t hope to pay off, the bosses of the underground casino broke into his house and took Chloe’s life as a way to settle his debt. They killed Winston to prove to others that no sin went unpunished.

And, thus, 16 year old Beatrice Maison was made an orphan. In the werewolf realm in 1910, orphans were made property of the state, rented out as maids and servants to pay for their food, clothes, and housing. More often than not, those slaves were mistreated and forced to bow to their masters in whatever way they demanded in order to survive. It was no easy life, especially for a young woman.

When she would finally reach the age of 18, a time that was supposed to be celebrated among werewolves, she would be put up for auction. A young, intact beauty such as herself would fetch a hefty price for the realm as a maid and likely a sex slave, too. Her only hope now was to meet her mate and pray that he was the better alternative, rich enough to buy her freedom from the realm.

But, Beatrice’s luck rarely worked out that way.

“It’s time to go.” A gruff looking man said, walking up behind her.

He was holding an umbrella but didn’t offer it to the lady for cover, instead he roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the automobile. She didn’t bother to cry out or whimper in pain, she was too numb to feel anything anyway. She allowed herself to be pulled towards the car and shoved into the back seat.

“Your new home awaits you.” The man snickered as he crawled into the passenger seat.

Beatrice stayed silent as she stared out the window, watching her parents’ graves until they vanished from view.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a rundown looking wooden house. White paint was peeling from the siding, there were missing planks in the steps and small front porch, and there were remnants of red paint on the front door which barely clung to its rusty hinges. The man hauled Beatrice from the back seat and shoved her up the rickety steps. She stumbled inside and looked around, noticing the damp chill in the air and the dark, dusty appearance of the home; if you could even call it that.

A woman dressed in a stiff gown made of expensive looking red silk struts into the main hall with a sour expression painted on her face.

“Beatrice Maison. Welcome home. I am Madam Grace, your handler. Get some rest because tomorrow you will start your new assignment.” Madam Grace said with zero emotion on her cold face.

“My new assignment?” Beatrice spoke for the first time.

“You didn’t think you’d get to live here for free did you?” Madam Grace scoffed, “No, we have many bidders who would pay handsomely for a pretty young thing like yourself. I know just where to put your first, too.”

Beatrice sighed, refusing to wear her fear on her face or in her hazel eyes. Madam Grace turned her back towards Beatrice and she assumed that meant she was supposed to follow the middle aged woman. Madam Grace led Beatrice up a staircase that was missing several of its steps and into a large room.

Laying on the floor were mattresses lined up side by side. There were no sheets or blankets, just dirty, thin mattresses that had long outlived their usefulness. There was one empty mattress, the rest were occupied by women who seemed to be in a worse state than her. They all looked up when Beatrice entered with expressionless faces and dull eyes.

“You’ll sleep here.” Madam Grace said before leaving the room.

Beatrice stepped around the other mattresses, avoiding the gazes of the other women, and sat down on the edge of the only empty mattress in the room.

“What’s your name?” One of the girls asked, she seemed to be even younger than Beatrice with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Beatrice.” She mumbled in response.

“I’m Mabel, I’m 13.” The girl replied, offering Beatrice a small smile.

“And I’m Roxanne, 15.” A brunette said,

“I’m Lucille, 17.” The woman with black hair and dark eyes seemed to be the oldest among the group.

“Madison, 12.” The girl with golden blonde hair looked much older than her age, her blue eyes having seen more than they should have.

“And I’m Steffanie, I’m 16.” The last woman in the room replied. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes, “How old are you?” She asked,

“16.”

“I’m sorry that you’re here.” Steffanie sighed, looking at me sympathetically.

“What’s going to happen?” Beatrice asked, almost afraid to know the answer. Lucille released a heavy breath of air before replying,

“You’ll be rented out as a maid or servant of some sort. Most of the assignments are only short term, a few weeks at most, and then you’ll come back here to wait for another assignment.”

“O…okay.” Beatrice stammard. Something about the tone of Lucille’s voice made her nervous.

“You have to be strong now, Beatrice; strong and brave. The next few years will be difficult and trying, but you have to hold on to hope that your mate will save you when you turn 18.” Staffanie said, hope glistening in her eyes.

Lucille scoffed, rolling her eyes and looking away from Staffanie.

“Be nice, Lucy.” Mabel mumbled, nudging Lucy with her elbow.

“What?” Beatrice wondered.

“Lucy doesn’t believe that her mate will come for her. But, we all do. We know that the Moon Goddess has a plan for all of us.” Roxanne said,

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Roxie.” Lucy shrugged.

“You better get some sleep, Beatrice. Tomorrow will be a difficult day for you. Renters never go easy on newbies.” Steffanie instructed, laying down on her mattress.

Beatrice sighed and laid down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She knew that she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight. She hadn’t slept in five days, since her parents were murdered right in front of her eyes in her childhood home. There was no point in even trying, so instead she thought of her mother’s face. She had the same hazel eyes and dark chestnut colored waves as Beatrice.

The next morning, Madam Grace abruptly woke up Beatrice by dumping a pail of ice cold water over her face. Beatrice gasped and sat up, her clothes and mattress completely soaked. Madam Grace grabbed a hold of Beatrice’s elbow and yanked her off the mattress, forcing her to stand.

“Let’s go, Beatrice. It’s time to work for that mattress you slept on.” Madam Grace looked at her in disgust.

Beatrice bowed her head and followed after Madam Grace, knowing that she didn’t have another option. Back downstairs in the old house were three men dressed in their best suits with bejeweled walking sticks, silk ties, and slicked back hair; it would’ve been less obvious to just write I’m wealthy on their foreheads.

“She’s the new one?” One of the guys asked.

“Yes, Beatrice Maison, age 16.” Madam Grace replied.

“Lord Bates appreciates your continued cooperation.” The same man said, handing over several pieces of gold as payment.

“As we appreciate his continued participation.” Madam Grace smiled, shoving Beatrice forward as she pocketed the golden coins.

“This way.” The man grabbed Beatrice’s arm and threw her into the back of his car. She was really starting to get tired of being manhandled.

“Lord Bates will like this one. She’s much prettier than the last few.” The man said, glancing at Beatrice from over his shoulder.

“He might want to keep her.” The second man laughed.

The car pulled up in front of a house that was much different than the last one Beatrice was taken to. Its paint was fresh and its steps were made of the most expensive marble. Beatrice stared up at it in awe, surprised that something so beautiful could still exist in such a cruel world.

“Get out, come on.” The man yanked Beatrice from the car and into the mansion.

A man dressed in a black duck tail suit with a satin tie in a very loud pattern, and a top hat was waiting in the foyer of the mansion. His gaze was sickening as he glanced over Beatrice’s body. She was still wearing her black wool mourning gown and it was still damp, hanging heavily from her thin girlish body.

“Oh my, Madam Grace has really outdone herself this time.” The man sneered, “Hello dear, I’m Lord Bates.”

Beatrice was frozen on the spot, but one of the men who collected her shoved her forward and she stumbled towards Lord Bates. He had ugly green eyes and greasy blonde hair, all hidden behind a wealth of riches and jewels. His glove covered hands gripped Beatrice’s arms as he steadied her, pulling her towards his tall and stocky frame.

“Such beauty.” Lord Bates purred, running his knuckles against her cheek. She flinched away and he laughed at her reaction.

“Take her to her chambers and dress her in her uniform.” Lord Bates demanded one of the guys behind Beatrice.

He took Beatrice by the arm and led her through the house. Past the grand dining hall, moody parlor room, and elegantly decorated living room were the slave quarters. The man opened a closet door and shoved Beatrice inside. On the ground was a mattress no different than the one she had left at Madam Grace’s shack. Hanging on the back of the door was an article of clothing.

“You shall dress in that and then return to the kitchen for your assignment.” The man ordered, pointing to the fabric on the back of the door before leaving the closet.

Beatrice picked up the cloth in disgust. It was a black leather corset, red leather skirt, and sheer black tights; no slip, no dress, no cloak. Beatrice took in a deep breath before she began undoing the ties of her mourning gown. She pulled off the gown, the tan slip, and her fraying corset and folded them carefully on the mattress. She tugged on the strings of the corset and tied it up the best she could on her own, examining herself in the dirty broken mirror behind the door.

She was a fairly chesty woman and her breasts were pushed nearly up to her chin and came spilling out of the sweetheart neckline of the corset. The bottom was cut into the shape of a V, the pointed covering up her belly button and ending at her waist. She blushed deeply and looked away from her reflection.

She pulled the skirt up until it was snug around her waist and buttoned the clasps on the side. It clung to her thighs and only covered a small portion of her upper legs, not nearly long enough to make it to her knees. The point of the corset disappeared under the skirt but the bare skin of her sides were left exposed. She rolled the black tights up her bare legs and found the thigh high leather boots that were left for her to wear.

She refused to look in the mirror and left the closet, holding her head up high with mock confidence. She ignored the lustful stares of the other members of the household and made her way back to the kitchen, hoping that she remembered the way.