Prince Hat Novels & Stories

I was so used to my life in New York that I often forgot my royal ancestry. “Prince Falcon! Interesting. I imagine the success you make with women. Rich, tasty…I mean…very tasty… your food” Hanna stuttered and turned red as a pepper. I had to stop myself from laughing. She was graceful even when she talked too much. “Thank you for Prince Falcon. It's a name that was created by my friends, because of the way I behave in the financial market. I have a company here in the United States that manages the finances of entrepreneurs. And about women... I've had many relationships, but none that fill the void in my heart." I said looking straight into her eyes and she swallowed her food, almost choki

His size ment he hit the ground hard and I scrambled on top stradling him and pining him beneath me. "This isn't wrestling." he grunted. "I could easily throw you off Kayda." he added. "But you haven't." I grinned shifting my hips slightly. "Because I don't want to hurt you." he said. " get off." he added through gritted teeth. "Nope Prince Eoin." I smirked emphasising his title Prince and popping the P disrespectfully. "Besides you already hurt me so kiss it better." I smirked leaning dangerously low to him and pushing out my split lip.

“You have a visitor, sir.” “I’m not expecting anyone at this moment. And Storm might be stuck in traffic.” “Sir, it’s a prince.” A what now? Then a well-built blond in a black suit walked in. “May I present, His Royal Highness, Prince Camren Thayer Aleksei Keoni Gattewarde Braynburd of Triberis Capria.” “That’s a mouthful, Lud,” That must be the Prince in a well-tailored blue suit and light purple tie dismissing the blond, his protective detail.

How can they be rehearsing waltzes when I feel like I’m preparing for a funeral? I stand and pace the room, my mind chasing itself in circles. Run. Stay. Fight. Give in. Every option tastes bitter. I stop by the window, pushing the curtain aside. The night air is cool, brushing my face like a whisper. Beyond the palace walls, the world looks free, dark streets, flickering lanterns, open sky. Out there, no one would call me “Your Highness.” Out there, I could be just a man. But here… here I’m a prince. And princes don’t get to choose.

He does not seem pleased because he reaches for me but I’m out of reach. From a bit of a distance I notice more about him. He’s very tall and built, like most males, he is clean shaven, those eyes capture me for a moment, then his perfect dusty blonde hair. But more importantly the crown that sits atop that dusty brown hair. This is the Prince. I can feel realisation hit as my breathing speeds up and I drop into a deep bow. “Your Majesty.” My voice barley audible. I’ve heard stories of The Prince, we all have. Stories of his ruthlessness, violence, cruelty. Stories of his love of females as nightly companions. Bad, horrible stories.

"You're not the only royal person in the real world, Mr. Bodyguard. Me too. My father even calls me Princess till now. By the way, where are you going with half-wet clothes like that?" Prince put his shopping on a chair. "It's impossible for us to continue the mission in wet clothes. So, I bought these." He stretched out two black Mont Saint Michel t-shirts. Emily was dumbfounded. "You bought a couple t-shirt?" Prince grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't have enough time to look for the brands you usually use. So, I bought what was available at the nearest store. You don't mind wearing this, right? Besides ...." Prince took out trousers, a bra, and underwear. Emily froze watching him.

“Miss Iris, Prince Otis is here” Agnes went ahead to open the door and I stumbled past her to stand before the Prince, my eyes moving to stare back at him. Dressed in his Royal attire once again, this time with a symbol of his family crest just over his heart. He looked simply stunning with his hair smoothen to the back, there was no mistake. He was indeed a Prince. “So handsome” I whispered out loud before realizing I had. I gasped in shock, covering my mouth with both my hands to stop myself from saying anything further embarrassing.

The Bloody Prince is going to regret ever laying eyes on me. I check my hair for any flyaways, making sure every strand is in place. Braids wrap around my head like a crown to remind the Prince who he’s dealing with. They meet at the back, twisting together into a low bun. Gold dangles from my ears, complete with a glimmering choker of diamonds around my neck. The only thing missing is a crown.

PRINCE Sari, age 12. For as long as he could remember, everyone called him “Prince” or “Young Prince” because he came from a Royal Family. They always stated that he was an important person in their kingdom. They also said that one day, he would become King of Kabinihan. Prince Sari had no idea what it all meant back then. Even now, he still couldn’t understand everything or what was his real purpose in this world.

I shouted angrily. She made a sad face just then Mr Prince came back into the living room, wearing his gym outfit, he looked so different in sweatpants and a black sleeveless vet , I looked at him searchingly for several seconds, noting the clenched fists by his side, the determined set of his jaw, the piercing blue of his narrowed eyes.