Prince Hans Novels & Stories

He pecked her forehead and moved inside the mansion. "Da...da… " She started crying. Her cheeks were red. Rani Sa gave her a pacifier and distracted her attention from her father by showing her birds and butterflies that were just flying around. "Kavya, look at those butterflies." She walked to the rare black rose on which a colourful butterfly was sitting. Princess Kavya tried to grab the butterfly. In the meantime, Prince Jai Singh showered. His chestnut hair was neatly combed. Droplets were dripping from his hair. He wore his black yoga pants and white polo t-shirt. After getting ready, he went down to meet his daughter and have breakfast. He was famished.

The glorious name of The Man of pride. "All rise to His Imperial Grace, The Crowned Prince of The East, His Royal Highness, Prince Nolan Armstrong". The words of the announcer were carried out when the figure of the Prince of The East came to light and every breathing thing, man and woman, kings, emperors, and rulers, queens, duchesses, and counts, mighty men, and countesses, the rich, the poor, the laborers, bowed to his presence. He stood in power. Kathryn could not believe her eyes. He was there. Her prince was there in flesh and blood. Nolan's dark eyes were fixed on the throne as they beheld just one person. He only wanted to see just her and stand before just her.

"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.

“The second Prince?” she asked once again and Ore nodded “There is a second Prince? How come no one ever made mention of him all these while?” she asked with her eyes as wide as a big panda’s eyes “We don’t mention him because we dare not, he doesn’t live in the palace but he comes once in a year which is during the royal hunting, his presence is always overwhelming” Ore narrated “His presence is overwhelming as how and why does he not stay in the palace?” she questioned further getting interested in what her roommate was telling her

Damn his killer smile and his dimples. "You know" I faced him, propping my left arm under my head "my prince charming is gonna have dimples just like you" I poked his cheek. He groaned "here we go again" I was pretty serious about the prince charming thing, I know that we dont live in a fairytale world but I believe there is a special person waiting for us. My special person must be super cute, tall, must have brown hair, blue eyes, dimples, and yes, pink lips. Yummy.

The more Prince William interacted with Zayn, the more he found him to be a fool. He had to be an idiot to be making such claims. He was the Prince of Yingland, the beloved grandson of the Queen. Who in all of Yingland would be so senseless to try to assassinate him? He had been living in Yingland for a long time, yet no one had ever attempted to assassinate him. No one did it in the past and no one would do it in the future either.

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?

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.

I don't know why I was hoping that it should be Prince Raphael. "The Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Ayatulla, His Majesty Prince Reuz IV!" I don't know what to feel when I heard that it's not him then "The Prince of the Kingdom of Ayatulla, Prince Raphael III!" I was shocked with the names called after him, "The Regent of the Principality of Asturiaz, His Highness Rocky IV" "The Duchess of the Government of Akazia, Her Highness Ma. Catherine" "The Emir of the United Kingdom of the Eastern Lands, His Majesty Emir Shurev IV" "The Grand King and Queen of the United Kingdom of Tleste, His Majesty King George XVIII and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth" "The Queen Mother of the United Kingdom of Sour,

He vividly remembered how fine Prince Mharl to some subjects and he even excelled since Primary school, high school and now in college. “My son, you look awesome in your tuxedo. Congratulations on another award you have from your art class, science, and history. You did it again. The honor you had in your primary before is now another journey you face in your high school. The queen hugged and made a pat on Prince Mharl’s back. The king shook the prince’s hands and whispered, “Son, I am proud of you! You’re free to choose what course you want to take.” Prince Mharl was known to be a horse and motor rider. One day, as he drove a customized 1981 Honda CM400 Hondamatic and known to be Denmark’s