From chains to crown

From chains to crown

demuslimah12

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I, Damien, reject the pregnancy. I'm not responsible for it. She sleeps with the guards."Emily, a slave bound to the ruthless Prince Damien of Opsia, is left to die after becoming pregnant a crime punishable by death.Betrayed. Humiliated. Condemned. Her fate seems sealed.Until another prince steps forward.Prince Ethan of Blackmoon halts her execution, purchasing her under the guise of a ritual offering. In his kingdom, he offers her care, protection, and something dangerously close to love.But his eyes hide secrets, and his reasons for saving her may be far darker than kindness.Then, the unthinkable: Emily's true identity is revealed and Damien returns, desperate to reclaim her.Now torn between two princes:– The tyrant who shattered her– The savior who might be lyingShe must choose.But who...Who is she truly?Who stole her past?And who will pay for her suffering?One woman. Two princes. A destiny that will shatter kingdoms. Reminder: This story is RATED 🔞🔞🔞 (not suitable for underage readers; read at your own risk) and contains mature -proceed with caution."

Chapter 1 1

Emily's POV

I woke to darkness.

Not silence - the kind of dark that breathes, whispering things you can't quite hear. My head pounded. My limbs felt like stone.

I tried to move. Heavy chains - iron ones, cold against my skin - bolted me to the wall behind me. My wrists and ankles were bound.

I wasn't in a hospital.

This wasn't the recovery room.

The last thing I remembered was the doctor's voice:

You'll sleep a little, and when you wake, the world will be waiting.

Well, it was.

But not the world I knew.

The air was thick with mold and rot. The faint flicker of firelight slipped through a grated door across the room. Stone walls bled dampness. I could smell old blood, dried, and something more primal.

My pulse kicked. "Hello?" I whispered. "Is someone there?"

No response.

Until I heard footsteps.

Heavy boots echoed against stone. The door creaked open.

A man stepped through-towering, broad, dressed in black leathers with a crimson sash and a silver emblem on his chest: a crescent moon coiled in serpents.

He didn't look like a doctor, or someone I'd recognize, or anything safe.

"You're awake," he said.

I stared, throat tight. "Where... where am I?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he crouched just outside my reach and studied me like I was something strange, something beneath him.

"This is the Kingdom of Opsia," he finally said, his tone flat, distant.

Opsia? I'd heard the name in whispers, in nightmares.

"There's a mistake," I croaked. "I shouldn't be here. Please - there has to be a mistake."

He tilted his head. "Everyone says that at first."

"What did I do? I didn't-"

"Enough." His voice cut sharp and final. "You'll find out what you are when the prince decides."

The prince?

Before I could ask anything else, he stood and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Darkness swallowed me again.

But now, it pressed on my chest like a weight. Every creak in the stone, every flicker of shadow felt like a warning.

Why was I here?

My heart twisted. Flashes of my father's strange behavior flickered - the way he'd avoided me for days, the sudden desperation, the quiet phone calls. Was this his plan all along?

Before I could process it, the door groaned again. Another figure entered - different this time.

A woman. I think.

She moved like a soldier. Black combat pants. High boots. A tight white shirt pulled against a powerful frame. She carried a bundle of leather clothes in one hand and a cane in the other. A silver badge - crescent moon again - gleamed over her heart.

She paused, looking me over.

If not for the soft curve of her chest, I wouldn't have known she was female.

"Up," she said calmly. "We don't have all day."

"Who are you?" I whispered.

She dropped the bundle beside me. "Valentina. Prince Damien's First Guard. I'm not here to hurt you-unless you make me."

I swallowed. The name alone made my stomach twist.

She knelt, undid my shackles one by one, and stepped back. It should've been a relief.

It wasn't.

"Change," she said, handing me the clothes.

She didn't move, didn't turn around.

I hesitated. "Could you... could you please give me a moment? I-"

"No." Her tone was flat, final.

I turned away, cheeks burning, hands trembling as I undressed. The leather outfit was worse than I imagined-a skirt so short it might as well not exist, a top that barely covered anything. I held it to my chest, heart racing.

"I can't wear this," I whispered. "Please. I... I dress decently. This isn't me."

Valentina raised a brow. "That little speech would earn you a beating."

My breath caught.

"But I'm not in the mood," she added. "You'll answer to the prince for that."

I turned away, forcing myself into the clothes.

The fabric clung too tight, too exposed. I felt naked, humiliated.

Valentina studied me like I was a display item in a window.

She stepped closer.

"Hmm," she said. "If he's seen you already, you'd be in his bed by now."

I froze. "Wh... what?"

She gave a small, cold laugh. "Relax. You'll meet him soon."

Something in her voice made my skin crawl.

I didn't even notice her reattaching the chains until the metal clinked shut again.

"You didn't answer me," I said, my voice breaking. "Why am I here? What did I do wrong?"

She paused at the door.

Then turned back with a smirk.

"Wrong questions, girl. Better start asking who you really are now."

My breath hitched.

But before I could speak again, she was gone.

The torch outside flickered once-then went out.

And I was alone in the dark again.

Alone. Chained. Waiting for a prince I'd never met.

But something in my chest whispered this was just the beginning.

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