Romans & histoires Balekin The Cruel Prince

Then reality returned and slapped me in the face. This was Prince Caleb. Future king of the Lycans. A walking emotional disaster wrapped in expensive black clothing, and I was… whatever the hell I was becoming. The room suddenly felt too small. Outside, Princess Lena exhaled sharply. “If you do not open this door, I will come in myself.” I panicked instantly. “Can she do that?” “Yes.” “What?!” Caleb finally looked mildly annoyed. “Unfortunately.” I turned in frantic circles trying to think. There were no good hiding places. Massive room. Beautiful furniture. Completely useless for survival.

Kaila took a pause, schooling her expression into something less frenzied but no less dramatic. “Very well, my king. But the facts are clear. Your son, was struck in the face with a bow—bleeding—by a boy who cannot control his rage. And now, your court whispers of Prince Cavil’s cruelty. They call him dangerous, violent, a disgrace and he needs to be punished severely.” Her voice rose again, trembling with theatrical despair.

And she was about to see things from the past that could not be undone. A wolf of black and white, and then a wolf that’s as black as night. Mouth drawn back in a snarl, a grin. A terrifying creature which was composed of teeth, white, and bones, fur. The beasts had crescent marks on their forehead. It was the King of the past, the Alpha. The Alpha and his father, whose name is Banaua. It was the turnover of the Kingdom. Where Prince Bathal was proclaimed as the young King of Shaldan and in the middle of the aisle — of the crowd was the beautiful Queen, Galathea.

It was just a flesh wound but he yelled and fell back blood seeping through his robes, ‘Did you think I was joking? I’m sure I can convince a judge it was self defence from a rapist’ She sneered and Caleb turned to the Prince his eyes black with anger, ‘You raped her?’ ‘No, no, she’s lying I did not rape her’ The Prince protested his Guards helping him to his feet, ‘Not because he did not want to though was it Khalid? You stopped at actually raping me because you knew Caleb would kill you if you did’

Caesar stepped into the snow. Not in armor. Not in rage. But in a long coat lined with dark gold, its silver buttons gleaming like captured moonlight. He was tall, graceful.His face carved by gods, yet softened by warmth. Pale lips curved in a smile. A single blood-red mole beneath his right eye, like a drop of wine on porcelain. More radiant than Lucian. More comforting than the hearth. The Blood Prince of the Empire. He stopped before me. Then knelt—just slightly—so our eyes met level.

Her eyes locked on mine, desperate, begging for mercy. For a second, I froze. My grip on my sword faltered. But I turned away. Her scream cut through me like steel. Caleb laughed, a monstrous sound that made the ground tremble. His body was twisted, massive, his eyes burning like a pit of fire. “Finally,” he growled, voice deep, layered, inhuman. “Power. All mine.” He stormed out into the kingdom, tearing through fairies, draining them dry, ripping wings like paper.

"You should be thankful. Since you'll never be an Alpha here, you can at least be a Luna elsewhere." "Who is he?!" I screamed. "Cassian Stone," Dad said coldly. I froze. Time seemed to slow down. "W-what?" I choked out. "The... The Bloody Prince?" There was an expression of glee on Julietta face as Dad nodded. The Bloody Prince was just as his name implied. He was a monster who was controlled by his feral wolf. Everyone knows he killed his first chosen mate. He was unpredictable, and he was known to go into fits of rage and madness that made him slaughter anyone that stood in his path.

Some of the younger maids press themselves against the walls, heads bowed, refusing to meet my gaze. Their fear is well-founded. “Kael,” Seth says, struggling to keep pace beside me. “You should change. Your royal attire would be more powerful. More intimidating.” I don’t slow my stride. “I’m not entering that throne room as Crown Prince Kael.” “Then what—” “The Mad Wolf.” The title rolls off my tongue like a promise of violence. “That’s what they call me on the battlefield. The name I earned with strategy and blood and the screams of my enemies.”

There’s pleading and desperation in her voice, emotions I think are enough to make the drunken prince feel remorseful but instead, he laughs. He fucking laughs in her face and says, “Keep this up and you just might burst a vein.” Queen Lauretta gasps at his rudeness. Who knew the royal household was literally a battlefield? He turns to the crown prince. “And we wouldn’t want that for our mother dearest, now would we?” But he doesn't even give the crown prince a chance to reply as he reaches for the omegas he came with and then storms out of the ballroom. In his wake is a deafening silence.

I press my hand against my forehead, beginning to pace, even with my knee protesting as it does. When I look back at the Prince, he’s watching me with a calm expression, although his eyes suggest otherwise. They are ablaze with unreadable emotion, his full lips settled in a line. "My name is Hale,” he murmurs. He doesn’t offer his hand, and he doesn’t need to, because there is no way I would dare touch a pureblood. Even if his skin does look perfectly unflawed and temptingly…I shake my head. What am I thinking?