Cardan The Cruel Prince Fanart Novels & Stories

Blurb; The Honourable and respectable Prince of Nevera.. Prince Aldrich Theano son of King Alaric the ll, is a proud and arrogant man. He's engaged to be married to one of the most powerful prime Minister's daughter in the neighboring kingdom, his marriage with Cateleya is supposed to be one of the most biggest alliance between the two kingdoms.. As a vampire he knows his mate is somewhere out there but he has no intention of waiting for fate to decide for him, he isn't the patient type!

He had lived his life in agony and fear, a vampire who had a target on his back from birth all because of a title. The crown prince, son to the vampire king and his late queen, he had lived to be a ruthless man because of this cruel world, he was not born a man he is. Dean Stoker, the crown prince, the man known for his temper and cruel nature.

3rd Prince Carlos Relani Devion - he is a well-known battle freak, a bloodthirsty soldier, he is practically the same at the same time not with Felix the most gullible one. Then....... Emperor Cassius Vitalis - Devion - everyone describes him as an ice block, no one can look at him directly, lest their eyes itch just from his cold piercing glimpse. He is a very capable ruler despite being an ice block.

“The Crown Prince of Winacellu and the Dorm Leader of Faenice, His Royal Highness—” “Can’t, can’t you just cut it down to their actual names?” I requested, wincing at the very long introduction of their prince. “Okay, okay.” She nodded. “So, Kieran Fiores Gregory, Winacellu’s crown prince; Murien Larimar Samudra, Malecoy’s first prince; Leonis Raizen Aureus, Aslan’s second prince; Lazul Horacin Samudra and Guren Cairox Samudra, Malecoy’s twin princes.” She snatched a cookie from the plate.

"His family runs half of Europe's pharmaceutical trade. Polite as hell off the field. Completely ruthless on it." "Twenty two?" "Audric Sterling. Old English money, He's been in three separate disciplinary hearings this year and walked out of all of them without a single mark on his record." "And number four?" A pause. "Zian Castillo," Marcus says. "Half Spanish, half Korean." Another pause, heavier this time. "Don't get on his bad side." "Good to know." "I'm serious." The warning itself is off character for someone like Marcus who clearly seems to hate me.

He sat there bare chested, his trousers resting low on his hips, revealing everything I had only guessed at beneath his clothing. His chest was broad and his muscles moved beneath his skin like carved marble. There was not a single unnecessary ounce of fat on him. Every line of his body spoke of battle and discipline. Several scars crossed his skin. A long cut near his ribs and a small mark below his collarbone. But the strangest thing was the dark tattoo that began on his back and twisted along his arm as if the shadow of Noctis itself wrapped around him. An old servant stood behind him, his hands trembling but steady as he drew a razor along the prince's jaw.

If you're still mad, I can carve that mark off and stitch it onto his face. The crowd gasped at the cruelty of it all, yet there were some who could not help but sigh. "It's like flipping between heaven and hell. If only he'd used his smarts for something legit." "Check out this guy, barely in his twenties and already... Man, oh man." Mom–Fiona Emerson–went stone-cold as she reached out to brush the tangled hair from my face. Alex jumped in quickly, saying, "Ms. Emerson, don't bother looking. He's not even half as handsome as a regular dude. No cool scars, just plain ugly. You won't give him a second glance."

His dark hair was down now to frame his square jaw, and he was wearing some kind of black fur cloak—although he was still shirtless beneath it, displaying those chiseled pecs and that strange tattoo in the center of his chest. Damn, I thought. He was born into the wrong world; could have been a successful model back home. “I don’t believe you,” he finally grunted. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “You can look me up online,” I said, growing a bit desperate. “Like I said, I’m a model and entrepreneur. I’m not a spy or whatever you seem to think I am.” The prince of the Lycans was silent for several long moments. Those blue eyes raked over me, studying me, appraising me.

Hopefully, I learn to control it. Luxurious was too little a word to describe the Prince’s suite. There were paintings on different angles on the wall, each painting having its own significance, but the largest of them was a portrait of Prince Draven adorned in his princely robe, seated on a throne and a Trident in his left hand. I moved closer to the portrait, my hands tracing the frame. He looked like a god, an angry one ready to breathe down fire.

The spear shafts, forged from steel, intertwined like an inseparable web, trying to trap him in his seat. The spearheads sliced through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound, yet the person sitting on the black chair remained motionless. Prince Kral stood tall, his fierce features exuding an aura of darkness. Beneath his black hair, his golden eyes flickered with a tinge of crimson, resembling a towering death god with icy dominance. Nowarrior dared to approach Prince Kral. He was seated on the chair, even though it seemed like he was trapped by spears and unable to move.