I'm Not A Princess Novels & Stories

Where is his real home? "He’s not a prince by any chance, is he?" I ask, making it seem as if I’m playing even though I’m really asking, and she chuckles, asking why he would be a prince. "Only princesses get mated to princes. I’m not a real princess, so no. He’s not a prince, and I’m glad he’s not," she says, confusing me even more. Who is this man? Is she even sure he’s her mate? Could she also have been mated to a nobody? Why?

“No, Mario Princeton, I’m not having sex with you.” He scowled. “I mean, why not?” “I came to town to forge a new path for myself. I don’t need you to make things more difficult for me.” “It’s funny how you can tell there will be complications immediately.” “There will be when you learn about the past I’m running from.” I tried to hold my tongue, but the words were already coming out. “I am not a princess. I don’t fit in at your castle. Your brilliant imagination.” “Tell me what you’re so afraid of. You have tiny hands. It’s impossible to believe you killed anyone.”

I say, knowing she's more than just a witch. "What are you?" I asked her when she got busy giggling out loud. "I'm a princess, Princess Charlotte with no land," she says giggling again. "Princess, I knew you were royalty, cheers to your royal ass," I say drinking some more. "They don't love me," she says sadly. "Who doesn't?" I ask her. "Everyone," she says, I had the feeling she had some problem at home, but I didn't expect this, and suddenly, I didn't want her to tell me anything anymore, I want her to be honest, but not like this.

She said with a dreamy look. She had nothing of a princess... She hardly spoke of fancy dresses or crowns, she simply spoke of her manners... She hardly acted like a savage but she didn't have refined manners like the woman in front of her either... Mirabelle... Is this what she would have looked like if she had been a princess? She would think she was beautiful... - I am Princess Mira-belle... She says with a theatrical air. - Keep your voice down! And don't ever do that again... It's not like me...

“Well, they’re not coming after Sofia because you’re a prince, and also Sofia is an easy target.” “Sofia is a princess, and since I’m a prince, I can order them to stop.” “Order them? They’re witches; they don’t take orders from you.” “Oh… right, I forgot.” Sometimes I think I don’t even live in this kingdom with the way I either forget things or flat-out don’t know some things. “So what do I do?”

Things I still didn't fully possess. I picked up the note again. Read it. Then folded it carefully. "No," I whispered. Nora looked up. My pulse steadied. "No." Not to the dress. Not to the throne. Not to the pressure. No to letting everyone else decide who I was. I looked toward the mirror. Toward the woman staring back at me. Confused. Afraid. Lost. But still mine. "I don't remember being a princess," I said quietly. Nora didn't interrupt.

But along with it, his emotions and the fire that burned for Sisley was doused with cold water. But the alarming thing was, it was his rationale of his current feelings. Though he didn't want to acknowledge it, it appeared that he hooked with Sisley for her to fill the gap that Evangeline didn't. Oh . . . Shit. And what was more, the one thing that kept bugging him the most, but decided to ignore it since day one was –– he was a Prince! A true blooded royalty with very strict customs and traditions and responsibilities. It was fine if it was any other country or Kingdoms, but Everland? Statuses were important as life. Tip the other and the power balance would fall and crumble.

But Elara tasted the poison beneath every smile. She swept into the hall beside her parents, Kael just behind, her gown of deep green catching the candlelight. Nobles bowed their heads, though their eyes followed her like hawks. Already the whispers had begun: The princess and the Ironfang heir. A match written by politics… or by fate. Her stomach twisted.

Theodore danced with Isabella splendidly, captivating everyone, including me, in the great hall. I heard someone say: "Poor thing, she doesn't know how to dress for such an important event". "Stop, she can hear you," whispered the group of laughing young people, not far from me. I knew I wasn't dressed properly, but I had done the best I could with what I had. I decided to concentrate on keeping my pride, the one thing no one could take away from me. Furthermore, I saw people chatting and having fun, but I noticed that no one spoke to me or even said hello as if I wasn't the princess of the kingdom. Everyone was ignoring me on purpose. I needed to take action to resolve this, but my father,

His scorn could shatter me into a million jagged pieces. I grind my teeth in aggravation. I haven't been in his company for more than two minutes, and already my buzz has disappeared. I have no idea why he calls me "princess." I may be Enzo Valentini's youngest daughter, but I'm no pampered mafia princess by any stretch of the imagination. I don't live at the compound. I hold a job. And I don't take money from my parents. I suspect that he does it to piss me off, which makes no sense.