Princess Marinette Novels & Stories

I got my dream job and was happy to live out my life as a seamstress. Entering the factory the usual concentration was disrupted by the rush of girls scurrying around, modifying dresses and doing their hair. "What the hell?" I asked Emma sped across the room, her shaking hands clutching a crumpled paper. "here!" she said throwing the paper at me. 'The king formally invites all unmated females aged between 20 and 30 to attend a screening audition. 50 girls will be selected, who will then go onto compete in The Princess Games. 3 lucky girls will marry one of his sons. His 3 boys, Theodore, Ezra and Grey will choose a wife each.'

Phoebe asked, ready to pick Jeanette up. “I think Mateo and I are fated mates, it must have happened while we were busy having s*x,” Jeanette said confused. “Are you sure?” Phoebe asked. “I believe so,” Jeanette said. “Guess you are not the person I thought you are,” Phoebe said. “What do you mean?” Jeanette asked. “If you are fated to him then it means you have Alpha blood and not royal blood. I thought you might be one of the princesses that were stolen from the castle almost two decades ago,” Phoebe said.

“This isn't who you are! You don't harm people! Please, she's my mate! She's my mate, Visenya!” Marienne's eyes flickered, momentarily shifting from their fiery blaze to Visenya's gentle, golden caramel hues. It was a glimpse of Visenya's inner struggle, her valiant attempt to regain control and emerge from the depths of Marienne's grip. Suddenly, Marienne released her hold on Victoria, and she fell into Caspian's waiting arms, her own breath catching in her throat.

Don Rossi turned away slowly, pacing a few steps, his mind already moving faster than the room could keep up. A girl. An ordinary girl. And Lorenzo Valenti… Spared a life because of her? Impossible. And yet...here Martin was. Alive. Bleeding. But alive. Don Rossi’s lips curled slowly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. More like a realization. “This girl,” he said, turning back. “Who is she?” Martin shook his head weakly. “I don’t know… I didn’t get her name…” Don Rossi’s expression darkened slightly. “Useless.”

The older ones shook their heads, muttering about shame and impropriety. At the high table, her father’s face was carved from stone. He did not speak to her. Her mother leaned close, voice taut with warning. “Do not let them be right, Elara. You are a princess of this house. Remember that.” Elara swallowed hard, nodding. But her wolf bristled against the words. Princess or not, she was a mate. And her bond was not with Kieran. Across the hall, Serenya met her eyes and offered a sympathetic smile, as if she too were burdened by the weight of rumors. Elara returned it with equal grace, though bile burned her throat. Friend. The word was poison now.

No, I had to pull myself together! - "The person that you have bullied is none other than the Princess of Duaples, Marie Anastasie D'Amboise Auberjonois, daughter of King Alexander XI and Queen Malena De Arteaga. How do you think these Majesties will react when they learn that a Viscount's daughter has dared to raise her hand against their daughter?"

“Do not kill me- I’m – I’m sorry. Your- Forgive me your highness. I apologize for my insolence.” A knife was held in Renee’s hand as she slowly got closer to Mara, she crouched down and with a devilish smile on her face, she trailed the sharp end of the knife on Mara’s face. “It seems like you are mistaken about a couple of things, so allow me to clarify them to you. One, I am a princess and you are nothing but a maid. Two, I have every right to take your life, right here and right now, do you know why, You can easily be replaced with another maid. I can kill hundreds of maids, and new ones would show up every time I do. Do you understand?”

“I saw Hope’s records from two years ago. Her injuries and burns were so severe she could only have gotten them from some sort of explosion.” “You found her medical records?” Chris asked. Of course they wouldn’t find her records no matter how hard they look since the Alexeevs have their own doctors to begin with. I bet they also have their own hospital in their courtyard, too. But still, Jasmine died that day, and on that same day, Hope was born. They were one and the same person, but the difference was worlds apart. Jasmine was just a normal girl, while Hope was a mafia princess. “But how did Jasmine end up with Nikolai?” I asked Chris. That was a black hole I’ve been trying to solve since

Their expressions turned serious at once. They finally understood: I wasn’t some lost, weak princess waiting to be “taken in.” I wasn’t a lonely girl Sophia could destroy. I was Mia. The woman who controlled the new Italian Quarter shipping lines. The woman none of their families could afford to anger. I stood and walked to the floor‑to‑ceiling window. Beneath me lay the richest, most dangerous streets in the city. Mafia bosses. Old money. Greed. Betrayal. A million secret deals happening in the dark.

“Not just survival. I want her to choose love without fear.” GreenLee nods, tears catching in her lashes. “Then we’ll give her that.” "If this baby is a girl I want to name her after my mother if that's ok?" "Of course Bambina. Hit me with it, what's our princess' name?" "Katrina Marie" "Marie? After my mamma?" "Yes they are her two strong Nonnas." "I like it Bambina. Now I really want this baby to be a princess." And in that moment, with the stars above and the future blooming beneath our hands, I believe her.