Royal Chaos Novels & Stories

That night, Royal One’s building shimmered with golden lights. Stars mingled with the city lights, dazzling and radiant, as if heaven and earth had fused. A soft breeze carried a faint, intoxicating fragrance. Royal One was the largest nightlife and entertainment venue in all of Cindale. At night, it transformed into another world—filled with extravagance and chaos, a mix of dragons and snakes. If you could imagine it, Royal One could make it happen. Tonight, the Ninth Master—who hadn’t appeared in three months—suddenly returned for an inspection, making everyone at Royal One feel on edge, each person treading carefully.

LUCAS’S MANSION: LIVING ROOM Leila sat in the middle of the plush leather couch, her eyes fixed on the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The headlines flashed in bold letters: ROYALS ARRESTED FOR MULTIPLE CRIMES. The images accompanying the news showed Monica and Robert Royal being led out of their mansion in handcuffs. Their faces, once filled with arrogance and power, were now masks of shock and humiliation.

Dapper, gallant with a dash of humor on the side, were the reasons why ladies want to throw themselves to the third prince. But in every family there will always be a black sheep and royalty or not, there's no exemption to this. The Royal Family has two and goes by the name of Prince Lazlo and Prince Lachlan, both were drop-dead gorgeous bad boys who choose girls and bikes over books and studies. Dubbed by the media as Royal Rebel and Fuvkboi respectively, scandal follows them everywhere faster than their Lambos and Bugatti. They're the walking pain in the ass, if I may add.

My mother said, turning on the television and switching the channel to the news. A shaky news camera showed the chaos inside the chapel earlier, with flashing headlines below saying: “HOW DARE THE BASTARD CALEB STEAL THE WIFE OF THE HEIR APPARENT?” “CALEB IS INDEED THE INFAMOUS ROYAL TUMOR!” ”RUBY’S POSITIVELY ROYAL PRINCESS IMAGE SHATTERED!” “HOW WILL LUCAS MEND HIS BROKEN HEART AFTER BETRAYAL OF HIS FIANCE AND BROTHER?”

“Fear… and slick, sweet arousal. This one will break so beautifully.” Vesper, the youngest Prince of Chaos, completed the triad with wild energy and a wicked grin. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief, his athletic form marked by battle scars and piercings, messy dark hair framing a face that promised both pleasure and ruin. “The pact is simple, summoner,” he said, circling me like a predator. “Our aid for your kingdom… in exchange for one night of complete surrender. Your body will be ours to use, to knot, to fill until you forget your own name.”

AT MY PLACE. Yes_you_suck YAY! PARTY! Will_the_devil SORRY TO BURST YOUR BUBBLE, BUT, ROYAL WEDDINGS CAN TAKE PLACE ONLY AT THE PALACE. Cereal_killer ... I_love_my_mommy ... Yes_you_suck ... I_pooped ... THAT'S EVEN BETTER ISN'T IT? Cereal_killer YASS! WE GET TO SEE THE PALACE AND TASTE THE RICH PEOPLE FOOD. Yes_you_suck

You mean, even a girl with no rank? I don't intend to join and bet on my chances, but I'm just shocked that there's a kingdom practicing that kind of thing. In Eravia, royalties do not even get a meter close to any commoner. They consider it as unethical, which I think is not really fair. I mean, does the people with no rank have to be treated like we have some sort of disease? That's why I'm amazed how different things are here in Solterra. I cannot wait to discover more than what I already knew. You can actually attend the celebration. Who knows you would be chosen by one of the princes to be his dance partner and then he'd fell for you later on, ask you to come to the palace, and voila! H

Someone chuckled darkly, a solemn nod going about the room. It had my curiosity entranced as each generation started to describe the slow decline of the Great Pack, as they called it; all Rogues connected to the king under one banner. What was even more surprising was the casual mention throughout of the Royals being Lycans. No one in the room batted an eye at it, just accepted it like truth and enjoyed the stories. “Constable, I hate to interrupt; but are you saying all Royals for England were Lycans?” I had to know, a few cops snickering at the question, but Constable Myra just smiled and nodded her head.

It was certainly nothing like the picnics Ava had been on in the past, with floppy paper plates, plastic forks, and knives that wouldn’t cut through melted butter let alone anything else. The food provided by the royal kitchen was nothing short of delightful, every morsel was a work of art in itself and artfully arranged to entice even the most jaded of appetites. Federico led Ava to the silky fabric-covered chair opposite his, and, once he was sure she was comfortable, took his own seat, instructing the driver/waiter to serve their meal.

I couldn’t keep up the headlines. “It’s trending on Twitter, every social media, gossip sites, morning talk shows. Everywhere.” He showed me on the iPad, swiping every page. They were all the same. "They call her A Royal Wrecker. Hashtag #RoyalWreckerBitch. My apology for the word, Your Highness.” I grabbed the remote from Marko, turning the volume loud. My heart sunk. My skin went cold as ice.