A Prayer For The Crown-shy Novels & Stories

Not for anyone. Not for anything. Not even for a crown.

The one who had arrived was no mere envoy, but the ruler of the entire werewolf kingdom, the White Wolf Alpha King himself. Alexander and the elders hurried down from the platform, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty." "At ease." Father's voice carried across the square, steady and commanding. Then, he stepped aside, revealing the figure behind him. A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Alexander's eyes widened as his gaze locked onto me. I showed up in full ceremonial dress, but what I wore was not the dark-patterned Luna gown of the Greystone pack. Instead, I wore a robe of brilliant silver-white, the attire of a princess of the White Wolf royalty.

His usual serious expression was etched deeper than usual—though he stole a few glances in her direction, still unsure of what had caused the cold shoulder. King Asher approached them with a calm but firm smile. “Safe journey, Prince Xavier, Princess Tara, and Princess Sienna. Greta’s gates remain open to our allies. Let us meet again soon, Prince Xavier, for the upcoming battle.” “We are grateful, King Asher,” Xavier replied. “As agreed, I’ll be back when the time comes.” “And Princess Tara,” the king added with a slight grin, “your scented candles are already a legend. Our kingdom eagerly awaits more.”

Not here. He removed his hands from the bowl and stepped back. The high priestess placed the bowl on the floor where she poured water initially, and she started chanting in old tongue. The whole room was tense, and after what felt like eternity, the bowl lit up in a soft white, unmistakable glow. I didn’t know what it meant, but the look of horror on Jeremy’s face told me everything I needed to know.

Harlow, you've got family calling. Downstairs, there he was, Bennett, all dapper in a tailor-made suit, clutching a bouquet like some twisted Romeo. Behind me, my father sat in his wheelchair, his hospital attire hidden beneath a sharp, custom-made suit, his hair perfectly combed. He called out to the crowd, "This is my daughter, the Harlow family's Principessa. Today's her birthday, and her fiancé, the Marshall family's head honcho, is here to whisk her away!"

she countered. “If you want to win the crown, you have to work hard like the other girls. There's no shortcut in becoming the Luna Queen,” Came his passive reply. “Is that why you have scars all over your body, your pack wants you to win badly that they don't care about hurting their own,”

"Worry not, dear. I will not touch even a millimeter of you." "Perfect, then." I made my way out of the room. "I shall leave it to the Gods to strike you with lightning if ever you put a hand on me." He led me up the stairs, raising a brow. "Is that a threat?" “Merely a prayer.” The crown prince laughed lightly, whether he found my words just a jest or he was mocking me as he knew the Gods wouldn’t do such a thing as to hurt their blessed child. "I like your humor."

They mourned him and continue to do so. Someone had to take over now that the King was gone, and the young Crown Prince is doing an excellent job of carrying on his father's legacy. He's skilled at making snap decisions, and he's a natural leader. Not to mention that he's quite attractive. Anastasia isn't the only girl in the kingdom who fantasizes about him. When she sees him pass by, she can't help but steal a glimpse at him. If word gets out that she secretly admires the Prince, she'll most likely be beaten to death, but who can blame her? Despite the fact that he is rumored to be engaged, Anastasia smiles sheepishly whenever his name is mentioned. Even if he isn't enganged, a maid and a