The Emperor's Concubine

1: The Beggining

She paces the wooden floor nervously, the skirts of her ruqun rustling upon the floor. The Emperor's men were coming- she could feel it. She could feel it in the way the cold night air stood still in anticipation, in fear. At the age of seventeen, she was to be married off to the Emperor, but not as his wife, no, she was to be another of his hundreds of concubines. At first, the Palace had requested for her sisters. She looks over at them now, barely eleven and fifteen, she would rather die than send either of them off to a fate as The Emperor's whore. They watch her, eyes sad and filled with guilt, the younger of the two, barely suppressing her tears. Her mother tuts at her disapprovingly,

"Sit down Li Hua....you are ruining your clothes" she reprimands her lightly. She pauses, huffs and sits down, just as her father walks in. Her father was an old man, his hair already as white as snow, and a wise beard that passed his shoulders. He was kind, a caring man who had seen the worst of the world of wars. Her family wasn't rich, but neither were they poor. But it didn't matter of ones status when it came to The Emperor. All families every ten years were to give The Emperor a daughter, to become his concubine. It was a tradition passed on from many generations long ago. They were to see it as an honour, that a daughter of even the lowliest peasant, to the highest of officials were to be allowed within The Palace gates- but it was more of a sacrifice. Daughters given to The Emperor were often never heard of again, either the golden life of a royal had made them forget the blood of their family, or The Palace permitted no such contact, was unknown. Her father glances at her, the tired lines of age and suffering, evident upon his face.

"Be strong, my daughter"

A loud knock upon their fragile door, jolts them all in surprise. The Emperor's men were here. Her father gets up, opening the door. Three men, clad in armour stand there, royal scroll already in hand. They begin to read the orders of The Palace aloud as she grips the sleeves of her dress tighter. Her mother begins to weep sorrowfully, and her sisters follow in suit. She hushes them, voice soothing, before she is torn away from their protective embrace. The men's grip, hard upon her arm. She doesn't struggle as they drag her out of the house, and into the chilly winter air. Her mother runs forward, only to be held back by her father- much like her own tears. Her sisters hold each other, watching mournfully as she is thrown carelessly into the a carriage. She stumbles, immediately rushing towards a window. The men yell orders to leave, and she can already feel the carriage start to move. She doesn't cry, if only for the sake of her family. Instead, she watches as her family cry tears of sorrow, for the daughter they will never see again.

She watches their form shrink as the carriage move further and further away, and only then does she see the other girls confined within the tiny space. Their eyes watch her sympathetically, red and puffy from tears of their own. They range in rank from what looks like beggars from the street, to the daughter of the local counsel, and still- she does not cry.

A/N: i probably won't update this until forever, but i needed to get it off of my chest. But if you're interested and want more, vote- it will keep me motivated!! ;)