The Emperor' Hostage
- Reads 101
- Votes 3
- Parts 3
Ongoing12m
Last published Sat, May 24, 2025
They called him the Dragon Emperor-merciless, untouchable, and carved from steel.
She had only heard stories of him: of cities burned in his name, of rulers who kneeled or vanished, and of women who either bore his heirs or died in his dungeons.
Now, she stood in his court, no longer a minister's daughter, but a prize.
"You are mine now," he said, voice as cold as the winter wind sweeping across the marble floor.
She met his gaze, unflinching. "I am no one's possession."
All Rights Reserved
#233
consort
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
The Emperor's Regret
Love is a fragile thing. It can be nurtured, like a delicate flower in spring, blossoming under warmth and care. Or it can be neglected, left to wither under the weight of indifference until nothing remains but dust and regret. This is the story of a love that was once whole, then broken, then lost entirely. A love that burned brightly in the heart of a Queen-so deeply, so fiercely, that it consumed her. And a love that the Emperor never recognized until it was too late. She loved him. More than she should have. More than he deserved. She had given him her loyalty, her devotion, her very soul. And in return, he had given her nothing. Not his trust. Not his protection. Not even his mercy. Her love for him had died long before her body did. If fate ever gave her another chance, she would never love him again. But fate is cruel. Death was not the end. She would return, reborn from the ashes of her suffering. Not as the woman who once waited for his love. Not as the Queen who had begged for his favor. But as someone who would never waste another moment longing for him. This time, it would be his turn to burn.
शिवरुद्रिका: Eternal balance
The torches along the passage hissed in the wind. She turned from him, the rustle of her silk echoing louder than any sword-drawn threat he had ever faced. He did not move at first. Her steps echoed down the corridor, every sound a declaration that she would not turn back. Then his hand found hers-only for a heartbeat, but it was enough. The air between them stilled, thick with the pull neither of them had words for. She drew in a breath to speak, to command distance again, but he moved closer instead, the space narrowing until the cold marble at her back caught the edge of her veil. His voice dropped, not harsh but heavy with the weight of what he had never learned to say. "हमें क्षमा कर दीजिए," he said, each word measured. "नफ़रत निभाना आसान था... मगर यह खामोशी-यह हमें अंदर से तोड़ रही है।" He who had never knelt to kings or storms now found himself humbled before the woman he once called enemy.
The Mute and Bandit Leader
They say she's a beauty, generous, kind and more but she lacks a voice. Betrayed by her maid, hated by her half-sister, tormented by her step-mother. Her father never once looked to her as his own since she was born from a lower status. Remaining hidden from the world she hid but soon sent away to be wedded to the biggest and wealthiest minister. Everything changed when she came across a bandit leader. "Who are you?" He questioned her as she looked up to see a man with a mask and hood. His black robe worn as his men started crashing and taking all the items worth of value. ________________________________________________ She was from the royal status but considered the lowest in the royal. Everything changes once she wakes up again as her five year old self. Growing up to learn and protect those she meet in her second chance. Can she change her future from occurring again? What will she choose in her path? ________________________________________________ WARNING: Mature Content!!!! (Just not at the beginning though) Please don't read if you will feel uncomfortable 😣!!!!! Will also move from another perspective of another character to tell their part. This is one of my first novels so there will be errors and confusion. *Book cover mine but videos are not mine* *Not a translation* *Original Story* *This ✅ indicates that it's edited* Credits for the Editor: FishOutOfWater3Complete
HARLEEN : The art of her undoing
She is fire in silk, he is a storm in a crown. Their kingdoms demand obedience, but their hearts refuse... "You belong to me, Harleen. Every glance, every breath... mine." he growls, eyes dark with hunger and passion "I am not yours," she whispers, trembling under his touch. "You already are," he hisses, stepping closer"whether you fight it or not." In corridors of power, under moonlit forests, in the exile of shadows, every touch ignites desire, every word leaves a mark. "I won't let anyone take you from me," he murmurs, fingers brushing her hair. "Then I'll fight," she breathes, heart racing. "Good," he says, "because I've already lost myself to you." Love is forbidden. Passion is lethal. Obsession... is unavoidable.
Love is a fragile thing. It can be nurtured, like a delicate flower in spring, blossoming under warmth and care. Or it can be neglected, left to wither under the weight of indifference until nothing remains but dust and regret. This is the story of a love that was once whole, then broken, then lost entirely. A love that burned brightly in the heart of a Queen-so deeply, so fiercely, that it consumed her. And a love that the Emperor never recognized until it was too late. She loved him. More than she should have. More than he deserved. She had given him her loyalty, her devotion, her very soul. And in return, he had given her nothing. Not his trust. Not his protection. Not even his mercy. Her love for him had died long before her body did. If fate ever gave her another chance, she would never love him again. But fate is cruel. Death was not the end. She would return, reborn from the ashes of her suffering. Not as the woman who once waited for his love. Not as the Queen who had begged for his favor. But as someone who would never waste another moment longing for him. This time, it would be his turn to burn.
More detailsContent Guidelines