Stolen by the Rebel King
As a princess who could not wield magic, Princess Daphne's only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne was kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realized that she was in over her head.
She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.
King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.
Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus's ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone's imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.
No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.
However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be.
In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough.
―
[Excerpt]
"Now... where should I put you both?" he asked casually, not expecting a reply. "It's regretful that I only have one chandelier."
"Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don't deserve this," Atticus mused to himself. "The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over... Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?"
"Atticus!" Daphne screamed. "I don't want any heads! Let them go."
"Fair enough." Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.
There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.
Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.
"I told you to let them go!" Daphne cried out.
"Yes, I let them go," Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. "To receive divine judgment from the heavens."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
"You are insane," Daphne spat out, furious. "Utterly deluded, if you think I would agree. I am promised to another."
Contrastingly, the man seemed to be overjoyed. His eyes had lost some of their coldness. He chuckled, smiling fondly at Daphne as though she was his real lover. If she hadn't known better, she would've even been mistaken by the look he gave her.
She knew better. It didn't stop him from messing with her mind.
"Yes, I know. Poor Prince Nathaniel will simply have to live with this tiny disappointment. Don't worry your pretty head about it," he said comfortingly, patting her cheek. She flinched.
"Don't be ridiculous. There's still time for you to set things right. Unhand me at once! I have to marry him!"
"Hmmm..." he tilted his head in consideration, before giving her a mocking smile. "No."
Daphne stifled an exasperated scream, her fingers twitching as she longed to wrap them around her captor's neck and squeeze. Meanwhile, the man just watched her yell with an indulgent smile, as though she was a pet making a fuss.
"You'll find that I'm a much better husband than Prince Nathaniel." He continued, "After all, what is a prince compared to a king?"
"... a king?" Daphne paled, giving the man a careful onceover.
This couldn't be King Attitcus, could it? According to the stories, he was supposed to be an old wizened man!
"You're King Atticus?" Daphne asked, still disbelieving. "Of Vramid?" When the man didn't reply, Daphne's blood boiled. "Don't lie to me, everyone knows that King Atticus is supposed to be an old man. Are you sure you're not his son?"
King Atticus, according to the kingdom of Reaweth's knowledge, was an old wizened man that made a deal with the devil for his powers. Tales of his cruelty and bloodlust were well-known in Reaweth― in fact, King Atticus was a popular tale used by parents to scare misbehaving children. They claimed that King Atticus would steal unruly children by wrapping his long clawed fingers around their ankles as they slept, and devoured them in his attic in exchange for cursed power.
Daphne had treated those tales as sheer nonsense, a bedtime story cooked up by parents desperate for their children to behave. Only now, she realizes she would have preferred the boogeyman that stole children over the real thing.
The man scoffed, muttering bitterly to himself. "Of course they would say that. Isn't it so convenient? Liars to the bone..."
"Excuse me?"
"If that's what people in Reaweth believe, your country's education system needs an overhaul... Princess, open your eyes and take a good look at me."
He tilted her chin up again, amber eyes meeting hers. This time, she met his gaze head on, and her heart, traitorous thing it was, skipped a beat. It was entirely unfair for someone so nasty to have a face this handsome.
She didn't want to but Daphne did look at him. And what a sight for sore eyes the man was.
His eyes were deep, swirling pools of what resembled liquid gold. Paired with his rosy lips and pale skin that reminded her of the powdery snow outside, Daphne wouldn't even have been surprised if he claimed himself to be an angel.
Well, or at least, maybe if she hadn't had the luxury of interacting with him yet she would've thought of him as one. With a personality like that, him being an angel was entirely impossible.
"Does this look like the face of an old man to you? Or maybe you hoped for an old man that would die on top of you during your wedding night? You certainly have strange tastes for a princess."
Daphne spluttered, her face turning red.
"What?! How dare you― I would never―! The nerve―"
He rubbed his hand over the small of her back, a mockery of comfort.
"Unfortunately, if you want a wizened old man, you'll have to stick with me for the next 50 years. That's not a lot of time. I'm sure I'll grow on you. Eventually."
"50 years... Over my dead body! I'm not marrying you even if you're the king!" Daphne yelled, infuriated. She would rather marry a tentacle monster than him. Her hand moved to slap him.
King Atticus' eyes flashed a brighter gold. Daphne's body froze, as though immobilized by another power. She wanted to speak, to yell and scream, but then her mouth refused to move. She couldn't form a single word.
"My dear, this is not up to you," King Atticus said woefully, but his eyes were sharp and amused. "We're holding our wedding now. You can show up in tears or with a smile on your face, it will not change the outcome."
Daphne blinked furiously.
"Servants, get the priest and the hall ready," King Atticus ordered. To Daphne's surprise, an entire bevy of maids appeared and scattered, except for one.
"Your Highness," she asked meekly. "Are you going to undo the enchantment? Or let the princess clean up?"
"No. She's so much trouble. Can't have her drowning herself in the bathtub."
Daphne scoffed a little in disbelief, though that was the limit of what she could do.
King Atticus pretended not to notice. "Do be a dear, Maisie, and just help her change into her wedding gown and brush her hair." King Atticus shrugged nonchalantly.
Daphne glared at him, willing him to turn to ashes. He smirked.
"But I'll let you talk, wife. It'll be boring otherwise."
"You scoundrel, you'll pay for this!" Daphne yelled the moment she could. Said scoundrel only waved a mocking goodbye.
"Princess Daphne, I'll escort you to your rooms to change," Maisie said, and Daphne was forced to grit her teeth and endure the sheer indignity of being carted around by a maid as though she was a huge sack of potatoes.
She was quickly deposited in a room.
"We are so sorry about this," one maid said. "His Highness usually isn't like this."
"Hard to believe," Daphne muttered indignantly under her breath.
The maids simply winced and smiled, unable to comment any further. Daphne wasn't sure if it was because they didn't wish to entertain her or didn't dare to. After all, the princess wouldn't be surprised if heads started rolling due to wagging tongues.
Daphne was quickly squeezed, primmed, and accessorized like a doll within moments. She had a delicate white gown on, a dress that miraculously fit her perfectly. It had long, sheer bell sleeves and delicate lace around the bodice of the dress. Her hair had been brushed and styled into a neat bun, a small tiara resting at the top of her head.
The maids hadn't even bothered to ask Daphne about her impression of the outfit. As soon as everything was in place, Daphne was rushed out again. This time, the maids carried her down a long corridor and passed multiple twists and turns, coming to a stop in front of two grand doors.
"Best of luck, Your Highness," Maisie said with a smile. The maid conveniently ignored the look of sheer horror that had caught Daphne's facial features in a death grip. "May you have a blessed marriage."
"Wait... Wait, no―!"
The large doors swung open before Daphne could properly word her sentence. A flash of glaring light nearly blinded Daphne as she blinked, turning her head away from the door. The sound of trumpets blaring and the organ playing the classic wedding march immediately sounded. Above all, she heard the voice of the herald announcing her arrival.
Squinting through her lashes, Daphne caught sight of the handsome ― albeit devilish ― man at the end of the altar. Even from this distance, she couldn't miss the tilt of his lips, curved into a smirk.
"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Daphne of Reaweth!"
You may also like
9.5
Alpha Lykos lives with a deadly curse: any woman who touches him dies on the spot. His pack fears him, and he has given up hope of ever finding a mate.
Until a weak, fragile girl named Aria stumbles into his territory and touches him... and nothing happens.
She is his mate-
but she is not meant to live.
Aria's life belongs to someone else, borrowed by an ancient spell. If the spell breaks, she dies. If the curse stays, she also dies.
And an enemy pack wants her because she is the key to awakening an ancient power.
Alpha Lykos must protect her, break the curse, and fight fate itself-before time runs out.
But the greatest danger is not the enemies hunting them...
It is the truth Aria doesn't know about herself.
8.6
Amara's life has always been predictable-until the shadows start watching her. Footsteps follow her on empty streets, strange chills scrape down her spine, and something ancient tracks her every move from the dark.
Everything changes the night a terrifying wolf-like creature lunges out of the darkness and leaves her fighting for her life. Just when all hope slips away, a mysterious man steps in-sleek, powerful, and gone before she can speak his name.
Haunted by the memory of his golden eyes, Amara begins to unravel a truth she never imagined. A creature in the night. A man in the shadows. A bond that defies logic. Her search for answers leads her to a hidden library and a forgotten article that exposes a world she was never meant to discover, one of magic, danger, and beings who walk between realms.
From the veil of the other world, Kael watches her. Her guardian. Her burden. The one fate bound to her long before she was born. And every day, the pull between them grows stronger... and harder for him to fight.
As enemies gather in both realms, Amara must face the darkness hunting her and the bond tying her to Kael. Because when shadow meets destiny, survival demands trust, courage,
and a heart willing to walk into the dark.
9.7
The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes. But as Alpha King Damien Blackmoor stood before his entire kingdom and rejected his fated mate, he wondered if the goddess had finally lost her mind. Aria Thornwood was weak. Wolfless. Worthless. And the only woman destiny had chosen for him. Humiliated before thousands, Damien cast her into exile, choosing pride over prophecy. He told himself it was for the best. He told himself the Moon Goddess made a mistake. He told himself these lies for five years. Until the curse came. Until his kingdom began to die. Until the ancient prophecy revealed that only the True Luna could save them all.
Now Damien must journey into the wilderness to find the woman he destroyed and beg for her help. But Aria is no longer the broken girl he rejected. She has become something the world has never seen, a True Luna, more powerful than any Alpha in history. She doesn't need a king. She doesn't need a mate. And she is not interested in forgiveness. The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes. Damien did. And winning back his rejected mate will require more than his crown. It will require his heart. Some bonds cannot be broken. Some kings must learn to kneel. And some love is worth any price.
7.4
Cadence, a modern botanist, woke up to a glaring sun and massive, alien purple leaves blocking the sky. She was stranded in a terrifying, primal world.
Before she could process the metallic smell of blood in the air, a white tiger the size of an SUV crushed a giant boar's neck right in front of her. The beast locked its piercing blue eyes on her hiding spot. But instead of tearing her throat out, a blinding flash of silver light erupted, and the monster transformed into a towering, heavily scarred naked man.
He was Harlan, a shifter who immediately claimed her as his mate under tribal law. Dragged back to his primitive village, Cadence faced a brutal reality. Unbonded females were targets, and she was expected to take multiple mates just to survive. The tribal women mocked her fragile frame, calling her useless. To make matters worse, her foreign scent attracted a rogue serpent-shifter who violently ambushed her in the river.
The icy shock of the serpent's attack plunged Cadence into a deadly, burning fever. The tribe's Shaman tried his healing magic, only to shake his head and abandon her.
"She lacks primal fortitude. She will rely entirely on her own weak vitality. I can do nothing."
As Harlan held her shivering body in despair, Cadence felt a deep sense of desperate injustice. Was she really going to die in a filthy stone hut in an unknown universe, killed by a simple cold?
No. She remembered her grandfather's strict survival lessons. Forcing her heavy eyes open, she grabbed her terrified tiger mate's hand. She didn't need their failing magic; she had science.
"I need specific plants to live. I need white willow bark. And a spicy, ginger-like root."
She rasped, preparing to show this savage world the true power of a modern survivor.
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
7.6
For six months, I drained my very soul to heal Alpha Coleton's paralyzed spine. I gave so much energy that I lost the ability to shift into my wolf form. I thought when he finally stood up, he would announce to the pack that I was his Fated Mate.
Instead, he looked right through me.
"You have served the pack well as a servant," he said coldly.
Then he welcomed back Charly, the woman who had abandoned him the moment he was injured. To protect Charly from a harmless spider, he shoved me into a purification pool laced with liquid silver. It burned my skin like acid, leaving scars that refused to fade.
When Charly faked a cough during lunch, he accused me of poisoning her with Wolfsbane. He didn't check the food. He simply grabbed my jaw and forced boiling hot soup down my throat while I gagged and begged for mercy.
"If you hurt her again, I'll make you a slave," he threatened, his eyes full of disgust.
I finally understood. My sacrifice meant nothing to him. He would kill me to please a liar.
So, I sent a single text: "I accept your rejection, Alpha Coleton."
Then I disappeared.
Three years later, I returned. Not as a weak, broken healer, but as a legendary White Wolf, with the most powerful Alpha Prime in Europe holding my hand.
Coleton fell to his knees in the middle of the airport, tears streaming down his face as he begged for the bond to return.
I looked down at him with glowing golden eyes.
"You broke me so I could rebuild myself," I said softly. "And I built a world where you don't exist."