Please Cry Crown Prince Spoiler Novels & Stories

Selene smiled in favor as she adjusted her posture moving more closer to the prince. He turned to the crowd, his hand hovering between the two of them. “The new Crown Princess is—” Will Theresa’s gamble pay off if she’s chosen, or has her obsession with destroying Leah led her into a trap she can’t escape?

Gasps rippled through the chamber as he set it before his only brother—sixteen-year-old Cyrus. "From this day forward, you are King of Arnova." The court erupted. Robes swept the floor as every lord and lady fell to their knees. Cyrus stared up at him. "Leon?" Leon did not let him finish. He stripped off his outer robe. Beneath it—plain black mourning cloth. Then he turned away. Cyrus ran after him and seized his sleeve. "Leon! Where are you going? Don't do this. I—I don't understand any of it."

This did not bode well, the man was teetering precariously close to a mental break down. "Nerville just informed me that the Crown Prince is in the vicinity," he growled displeased. "According to intel, he was also pursuing Zela, though Lorainne was not sure if this information was accurate. And Zela denies any acquaintance with the Prince, a claim Lorainne appears not to believe."

If I wear beautiful gown, they'll doubt that I wore it to show off that I have the power. I have no intention of decreasing my advantage. I just need to foresee their moves and defend my castle. So that they cannot touch my remaining pieces. "I don't plan on wearing any of that," I murmured. Her eyes widened with surprise. "What? Why?" she asked with panic. We are out of time to prepare my plan, so I need to call out their attentions. The Crown Prince lived, thanks to me. But his position is getting in danger because of the trial that was happened when he was found guilty.

The crown prince's right hand asks, he nods. "I think she didn't know who I was, so just let it go." The crown prince's right hand just nodded but it was just strange because he never let anyone touch his sword, the last one did it was already at the grave. Not edited

Seraphina laughed softly through her tears. “That’s enough.” She whispered. “That’s more than enough.” ⸻ Damien quietly observed the reunion. A faint sadness crossed his face. Alessio noticed. “You remembered too.” Damien nodded. “I remember everything.” “Then why do you look sad?” He smiled. “Because I already know…” “…who the Crown will choose.” ⸻ Before Alessio could ask— The Crystal Crown suddenly descended. Not toward him. Not toward Leonardo. Not toward Damien. It floated…

The Crown Prince smiled slightly and said, "We were originally just using each other, so, you aren't falling for me, are you?" His sneer pierced like a sharp dagger into Aria's heart. "Your disgraceful affair with Alex has long been rumored throughout the three realms, and I'm a Dragon Clan Crown Prince, do you think I'd want a woman with a lousy reputation to stay by my side?" "The Crown Prince!" Aria plucked out her sword and pointed it at Arcelio, the hurt was no longer in her eyes and only bitterness remained. The Crown Prince snorted coldly, "Do you think you're still my opponent now?"

I stared at Alexander and slowly said, "From the moment you pressed your bloody fingerprint, you lost all right to call yourself my mate." The calm on his face finally cracked for good. I didn't give Alexander another chance to speak. "Today's succession ceremony is void. Three days from now, the royal family and Council of Elders will convene a public trial. Alexander, Sophia, whatever you owe me, I'll collect myself one by one." … Unexpectedly, Alexander didn't wait three days. That very night, he stormed into the White Wolf royalty's temporary residence, coughing blood. "I'm begging you, Ivy. Please see me."

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

The same mouth that called me, “My fox.” With shock, I reeled forward. “This can't be…..No… no, no…” The caption below confirmed the impossible: “Crown Prince Alaric of Ardonia addresses council after Southern negotiations.” The heir. Of Ardonia. The rival kingdom. A stream of tears dropped from my eye, mindlessly. The silence got interrupted by a sharp knock. One of the reporters peeped in. “My princess? Are you in need of anything?” I instantly cleaned up my teary face. “No. Get out!.”