Anemic Royalty Novels & Stories

Your ears picked up on my words right away and reacted. In response to the elderly woman's comments, Esme let out a giddy laugh, but she did not break her expectant gaze. _My youngest son looks just like you. Your hair and eyes are the only things that set you apart. He has eyes fit for a king. "He looks just like me? What exactly is an eye of royalty? Is it because of the colour that it was called that?" _Purple is the colour of royalty. And yes, the two of you are a mirror image of each other. It would be extremely difficult to differentiate the two of you if you stood next to each other and covered your eyes.

(Princess Helen Hallerus) Canceling her Invisibility Spell, Finally she appeared before everyone in the present. Fully clad in thick brown robe, Her presence does carries an aura of a monarch. The same feeling that I have when I meet with Duchess Kolarova Qoon, In Fantasma, every monarch carries that same Passive Skills, {Aura of Monarch}, it was just not a skills but also a one true aura that signifies that one is a true monarch that were acknowledge by the Fantasma itself.

"But he has a lover here and there? I don't think that's right even if you're royalty." "Geez, you're very ignorant. It's common for royalty to have many affairs since they're strengthening their connections to have greater and solid supporters. That's their way of gaining more power and it's nothing new." The imperial knights just shook their heads as they follow the Prince to guard him along with his lover within the woman's residence.

Aynyra paused her healing, "Are you sure?" "The men won't touch me anymore if I'm not pretty." Aynyra's face darkened, but she complied, healing the wound just enough so that it would still scar, but heal mostly on its own. "We have a long day ahead of us, but I can assure you, with me as Queen, such behaviour will never be tolerated by anybody in this kingdom, ever." Aynyra's face was still twisted with a scowl, but she allowed them to continue dressing her in her finest day gown. She needed to make an impression as future Queen, and the blood-red dress would acknowledge both her power and grief for the war and lost lives. A red Queen. A Princess of Death.

Curiosity piqued, she leaned in toward Maggie and inquired, "The King has a limp?" "Yes," Maggie whispered back, "a gift from your father, I heard." Amani couldn't help but smirk. The news that her father had inflicted such a severe injury on the King, one that even his wolf couldn't fully heal, brought her great joy. As she observed the Queen, Amani couldn't help but find her rather ordinary-looking. Despite wearing an extravagant maroon ballgown, it seemed to hang loosely on her thin frame. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes couldn't compensate for her somewhat bulbous nose and thin lips.

Logan Nielsen "Did someone recognise you?" My father asked. "No, I will be fine here." I said as I sat down on the sofa. "Very well, I'll contact you again later. Take care of yourself, son." My fa5her ended the call. My father is the King of Denmark, Valentino Nielsen. I'm Logan Christopher Nielsen, the Prince of Denmark. As much as I love being in the palace, I have to get put of it. Why? There's been a lot of scandals surrounding me lately but all of them are not true so to slowly due them down, I have to go to London to continue my school here.

After almost a minute, a single leg steps inside, for a moment before the person appear. She stood by the door for a minute, head hell high, as her gaze travel directly to one person. She then started walking directly towards where the royals are sitting down. She majestically walk with grace and power. Her head is held high like a true Queen, looking directly at one person with lips curve to a smile. She wore a simple Ankara gown with a rose gold color Alkaybba which is following her at least 5 meters behind. Five maids by either of her sides follows behind also dressed in a marching attire.

Their rich oil deposits and rare Earth minerals had probably had something to do with England’s acquiescence. She held her breath as the prince came into sight, battling the latest surge of nerves. Her first sight of him wasn’t the professional evaluation it should be. Instead, she noticed his lean, toned physique displayed by the tight white tank top he wore. It wasn’t what she would’ve expected from a Prince, but she couldn’t argue that it certainly highlighted how muscular his arms were—which reminded her that she was there to work, not ogle the Prince.

AT MY PLACE. Yes_you_suck YAY! PARTY! Will_the_devil SORRY TO BURST YOUR BUBBLE, BUT, ROYAL WEDDINGS CAN TAKE PLACE ONLY AT THE PALACE. Cereal_killer ... I_love_my_mommy ... Yes_you_suck ... I_pooped ... THAT'S EVEN BETTER ISN'T IT? Cereal_killer YASS! WE GET TO SEE THE PALACE AND TASTE THE RICH PEOPLE FOOD. Yes_you_suck

Now all Akana wanted was for him to close it. "I wear the royal title Rial Cariad. Royal consort. This makes me royal. I thought priests of Aevitism learn some general knowledge? Or are you trying to say that Eitir doesn't have the status required to have royalty?" The silence laid thick in the room, and as no one had anything to utter, Akana continued.