Prince Caspian Novels & Stories

I say with a sigh, it wasn't a lit again, for some reason I don't lie around him, even when I could lie, I don't lie to him, we're both very honest to each other. "I know, but why not, I'm their prince, they need to respect my decision," Caspian says and I groaned. Caspian is the prince of the fey, he belongs to their kingdom, to their realm, he's dressed like a prince, wearing his armour, standing tall and proud, he has a sword on his side, he looks out of the fairytales, the perfect soldier, a general, a prince, and he's all mine. "If they don't respect your decision if they try to hurt you? Or me?" I ask him, it's not just me, I have a son I need to think of and take care of.

Caspian watched the little Princess feel her fear and her tears, the Owl had reported to the other animals that the Immortals had been informed and there was going to be a war between them and the humans. ‘Who is she?’ Caspian thought, ‘Why would the Immortals go to war over her ?’ Personally, he could not wait for the war, hopefully, the Witch who had cast the spell on him would be involved and she might be more disposed to change him back. Caspian was a Crown Prince, more powerful than her father and even King Michael, his father was King Ortega, of Rhinelaterre. The largest Kingdom in the world and the richest but they had fallen foul of Encanto, the wife of one of the powerful Warlocks w

Just wanting her to be happy. “You still don’t understand.” Savvy says, white as a sheet as she stares off into space. “Elijah is a Prince of Werewolves and Witch Kingdoms. The one who will be taking the seat of power from his father, the next King of Werewolves, is turning eighteen. All of the Elders will be here for the ball tonight.”

She said cheerfully. Jake chuckled, and she glared at him. "That's different, princess. Oops, sorry. I called you princess again," Jake said. However, this time Elena didn't tell him not to call her princess. "Your doll is alone because she doesn't have a prince," Jake said to her. "Elena, will you become her prince?" She asked him with a hopeful look on her face. "I will become her prince if you become my friend," Jake said, extending his hand toward her.

Ok, let's come back to the present, I guess you now understand mom's reason for calling me Demian, a name that rhymes with a demon. Well, it's true, I'm Damian, a hybrid of mom a beautiful human lady, and Dad, a seductive Akwa-being, and a Sea King, I guess that made me an Aqua-prince, and yes this is the story of my life.

Then, the water at the center of the strait split open. A massive, sleek iron flagship cut through the steam, its tall dark mast towering over the smaller war galleys. Standing on the elevated quarterdeck of the vessel was a man dressed in immaculate dark iron armor, a high silver collar framing his sharp, pale features. Prince Caspian. Even across the distance of the burning water, his cold, calculating gaze found mine on the cliffside. A slow, arrogant smile stretched across his lips. Without taking his eyes off me, Caspian reached into his heavy cloak and held up a glowing, fist-sized sphere of cracked black crystal.

Just don't go easy on him, okay? As I left the basement, the groans picked up again but quickly faded into silence. Fiona took me to a room that was decked out in all my favorite colors. My graffiti art covered the walls, each piece framed, with my wobbly 'Cole' signature in the corner. Before I was taken, we were not exactly rolling in dough. Three of us crammed into one room, but we were a happy bunch. "Mom, how in the world did you end up running a casino in Macoria? And where did all this cash come from?"

The First Prince’s gaze darted from his brother’s face to the half-smile flickering at Lady Calantha’s lips. Jealousy soured the moment. Caspian waited until the chamber thinned of all but his closest advisor. Then, with a glance over his shoulder, he leaned in and spoke softly, every word ranked and ordered. “So it’s true. They never come back. Not even the best and brightest.” The advisor, an older man with features lined by years of intrigue nodded, “It is so, Highness. As our histories have always told.”

A confession. “Wendy, I need to speak with you.” The voice came from around a corner, sharp and low. “Excuse me, Tobias,” Wendy said. “Just one moment.” She disappeared behind the nearest column. I followed casually, ears sharpened. “That man,” the male voice whispered. “Do you know who he is?” “He signed in as Tobias… he seemed perfectly polite—” “Tobias Andrés Rostov. He’s the missing prince.” A sharp gasp. Then silence.

"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.