Royal Trouble: A Naughty Prince Meets His Match

The bass from the nightclub’s speakers rattled the crystal glasses on Prince Carl’s table, each beat a pulse of energy that set the crowded dance floor alight. Neon lights swept over the room, bathing dancers in shifting hues of electric blue and pink. Carl leaned back in the plush corner booth, flanked by three of his oldest friends, their drinks half-finished as they watched bodies sway to the rhythm.

Carl was bored. He was always bored. Parties blurred together: the same music, the same fawning girls who pretended not to know who he was, the same expectations from a life planned out by his family’s crown and fortune.

Then the air shifted. It wasn’t the music—it was the room itself, like a breeze of curiosity had swept through. Heads turned toward the entrance.

She walked in like she owned the night.

Princess Ariel.

She wasn’t in a ball gown, and she wasn’t the prim, perfect image the palace PR team would have approved. She wore tailored black shorts that hugged her hips, a loose silken top that skimmed her curves and ended just low enough to hint rather than show. Her long legs were balanced on sky-high heels that clicked softly against the floor with every step. A faint shimmer of glitter at her collarbone caught the light as she moved.

Three women trailed behind her—Charlotte, Becky, and Vicky—each stunning in her own right, but together they were a force. They laughed at some inside joke, shoulders brushing as they scanned the room. Ariel’s confidence wasn’t loud—it was magnetic, a quiet kind of majesty that made people straighten when she passed.

Carl’s eyes locked onto her instantly.

“Who is that?” he murmured, almost to himself.

His friend Dylan smirked. “That, my prince, is Princess Ariel. Rumor is she’s been abroad for years. Guess she just landed back home.”

“She’s… gorgeous,” Carl admitted, a rare softness slipping past his usual arrogance. He downed the rest of his drink and stood, adjusting the cuffs of his navy suit jacket.

“You’re actually going over there?” Dylan teased.

Carl smirked. “Watch and learn.”

He crossed the dance floor like a predator closing in on its prey, his dark hair perfectly tousled, his jawline set in a confident smile. When he reached her, he inclined his head just slightly, a mix of royal politeness and flirtation.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said, voice low and smooth.

Ariel turned, her gaze cool and assessing. For a heartbeat, Carl thought he saw a flicker of interest—but it vanished as quickly as it came. She arched one elegant brow.

“And you are…?”

Her tone wasn’t curious. It was dismissive, almost amused.

Carl blinked, unused to anyone pretending not to know him. “Prince Carl,” he replied, expecting recognition to spark in her eyes.

Instead, she tilted her head. “Oh. Right. The one everyone warns you about.” Her lips curved—not in a smile, but in something that felt like a challenge.

Carl’s grin tightened. “Is that so?”

“Mm.” Ariel’s voice dripped with disdain. “And just to be clear—you don’t get to call me ‘beautiful’ like we’re old friends. Try using my name first.”

Then she turned away, casually, as if he were nothing more than an interruption.

For a moment, Carl stood frozen, humiliation burning through him. No one—no woman, especially—had ever dared to dismiss him so easily. His fingers tightened around his glass until the fragile crystal snapped in his hand with a sharp crack.

“Carl—hey!” Dylan rushed to his side, but Carl had already dropped the shards onto the table, his jaw tight, his pride wounded. Without another word, he left the club.

Ariel watched him go from the corner of her eye and smirked. So much for the infamous prince. Then she turned back to her friends, laughter resuming as though nothing had happened.

---

The Next Morning- Eldoria Palace

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the royal palace, painting Ariel’s room in warm gold. She stretched lazily, still amused by last night’s encounter. The image of Carl’s shocked face made her grin.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” she called.

Her mother, Queen Isabella, swept inside in a tailored dress, her expression serious. Her father followed, hands clasped behind his back.

“Ariel,” the queen began, “there’s something important we need to discuss.”

Ariel sat up straighter. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” her father said carefully, “but you need to prepare yourself. The engagement we arranged for you when you were a child… it’s time.”

Ariel blinked. “The what?”

“You remember,” her mother said gently. “The promise between our family and King Edward’s. Their son—”

“Wait,” Ariel cut in, her stomach tightening. “Prince Carl? The rude one from last night?”

The king sighed. “He didn’t know it was you.”

“That doesn’t excuse him.” Ariel crossed her arms. “He’s insufferable. And you expect me to marry him?”

“It’s more than expectation,” her mother replied, her tone soft but firm. “This alliance secures our kingdom’s future. Carl will inherit the largest company in the East. Together, you could bring stability—and strength—to both families.”

Ariel stared out the window, her thoughts a whirl of defiance and duty. She had always known her royal title came with strings, but she’d hoped love wouldn’t be one of them.

---

Valoria Palace

Across the city, in a sleek palace apartment, Carl was nursing a bruised ego. He hadn’t slept much, replaying the moment Ariel’s words cut through him like ice.

A sharp knock on his door pulled him from his brooding.

“What now?” he muttered, swinging the door open.

His parents stood there—King Edward in a crisp suit, Queen Margaret smiling faintly.

“Carl, are you all right?” his mother asked, noting the tension in his jaw.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“You don’t look fine,” his father observed.

Carl shrugged, unwilling to admit that a single woman had unsettled him so thoroughly.

The queen’s smile widened slightly. “Well, perhaps this news will brighten your mood. It’s time to honor the engagement we arranged years ago.”

Carl blinked. “Engagement?”

His father nodded. “To Princess Ariel. She’s back from abroad.”

Carl’s glass of water slipped from his hand, splashing onto the marble floor. “Her? The girl from last night?”

“You’ve met?” Margaret asked, surprised.

“If you behave yourself,” his father added pointedly, “the largest company in the East will be yours when the union is complete.”

Carl hesitated. The promise of that company was tempting. His family’s approval—something he rarely sought—hovered in the balance.

Finally, he exhaled. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

---

The car ride to Ariel’s palace was quiet, tension humming like static between Carl and his parents. As they pulled up to the grand estate, he adjusted his suit, masking his nerves with a practiced smirk.

Inside, Ariel’s heart pounded as she walked toward the door. She smoothed her hair, reminding herself to stay composed. She’d half-hoped this engagement would remain a dusty old agreement her parents had forgotten. Now it was real.

She swung the door open.

And there he was.

Prince Carl stood on her doorstep, the morning sun catching in his dark hair, his expression a perfect blend of smugness and irritation. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The memory of last night’s humiliation—and Ariel’s scathing words—hung heavy in the air.

“Princess Ariel,” Carl said finally, his voice edged with irony. “Fancy meeting you again.”

Ariel’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks. “Prince Carl. What a… surprise.”

Behind her, her parents stepped forward, beaming with diplomatic warmth. Behind him, his parents mirrored their enthusiasm. But neither Carl nor Ariel noticed. Their locked gazes were a battlefield, and neither intended to be the first to look away.

The silence stretched, electric and dangerous, as if the universe itself were holding its breath.

Somewhere deep inside, Ariel’s heart thumped harder than she wanted to admit. And somewhere behind Carl’s smirk was a spark of curiosity he couldn’t quite smother.

Whatever this engagement was going to be, one thing was certain—neither of them planned to make it easy.

Palace Gossip

From the shadows of the hallway, maids whispered.

“Did you see the way His Highness looked at her?” one murmured.

“Looked at her? He glared like she was his rival in battle!” another giggled.

A third shook her head. “No… it wasn’t just a glare. For a moment, I swear he almost smiled.”

They all gasped. Carl? Smile? Impossible.

“Poor Princess,” one sighed. “To marry a man like that… I wonder what she’ll endure. Prince Carl is not one to deal with easily.”

And so began the war between the prince who never smiled… and the princess who refused to bow.