Royal Inked Novels & Stories

The man had a very dark history among us commons. It is known that the blood of royals is immortal. Meaning, once you’re a royal, wedded to a royal and sealed by blood covenant or born of a royal. You would live eternally. There was only one plant, of which its name is always only known by the King and the Chief Healer of the castle, could kill a royal. It is said its venom is slid into the hilt of a dagger and when it is very necessary, the royal would be stabbed directly in his/her heart to put an end to their lives.

· So I stepped closer and looked him straight in the eyes. · “Tell me.” · He hesitated painfully long like he was deciding whether to lie. · Then he gave me the message. · One single sentence. · Written in thick, blunt ink. · “Leave the palace, or he loses the crown.” · My heart sank. · Seraphina inhaled quickly. · · Ethan looked away. · But I couldn’t take my eyes off the words. · Leave the palace… or I lose everything. · My hands tightened around the paper.

The person from the Beelzebub royal family who stepped forward was Regus’ third uncle, Magnus. Seeing Roy's attack, Magnus froze for a moment. His eyes focused, and a burst of sternness gushed out. He noticed the difference in Roy. In the ancient dragon royal family, imprints were divided into three classes. The first class was the green imprint, the second class was the silver imprint, and the third class was the golden imprint. Before this, Roy had a silver imprint, but his imprint had been upgraded to a golden imprint now!

“I am Aeron, Alpha of Obsidian. And if you don’t move, you’ll regret standing in my way.” Laughter rippled among the guards. “He even speaks like him. Clever.” Aeron inhaled slowly, then stepped closer. “You want proof?” His hand lifted, and in one swift motion, he bared his forearm. The skin shimmered, revealing the mark of the Obsidian—the tattoo that every member of the royal family had. It was a tattoo etched in silver light. It glowed in the light as they stared at it. “Tell me, can a trick forge this?”

Rico's voice resonated with a mix of determination and pride as he continued, "Royal has shown incredible resilience and strength during her little time with us. Despite the challenges she has faced, she has proven herself to be a dedicated and compassionate member of our pack." He turned to me, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "Royal, you are not alone. The pack members here are like family, and they will guide you, teach you, and offer their unwavering support. Together, we will help you integrate into our traditions and way of life."

King calls from the corner booth, and I spin to see the Cursed Kings still camped out like they own the lease. Ink steps forward, grinning like a hyena. “Wait, you want me to tattoo his ass? Guess I’ve tattooed worse places. And better.” He winks at Queenie. Next second, he’s flat on the floor with King on top of him, fist cocked. “Go on, King!” I roar, pumping a fist. “I’m King, you fucking dipshit,” King drawls from the booth, sipping his beer like he’s watching a nature documentary. I swear I need to tattoo dick one and dick two on their heads just to keep track.

I asked, my curiosity piqued. "They are the markings of Royalty," Raphael said, his voice filled with awe, "of a great King, one who rules with wisdom and power." He gazed at my phone with wonder, his eyes tracing the glowing patterns as if seeing them for the first time, but still knowing what they meant. "This is me?" he was shocked. What did this mean for him?

"I need to order one hundred custom seals. Engraved with 'Blackmoon Pack's Slut.'" "And I'll need your special enchanted ink. The kind that carries the permanent stench of shame and exile. And I need it immediately."

“That rule applies to all but the royal family. Whatever you do, be kind to them.” I gave Nicholas a look, hoping to indicate that I would never be unkind to anyone. He offered a small smile in exchange. He knew that. But he wanted to warn me. I nodded, understanding. Zale continued to speak, “You will know who is of royal blood because only the royals are permitted to wear crowns.” “The larger the crown, the more important the royal,” Nicholas whispered to me. I nodded, grateful for the tip. “Now,” Zale continued. “If you are ready…?”

Rebecca interrupted, her voice steady, cool, and completely devoid of fear. She flipped the massive ledger open, the heavy parchment pages crackling in the tense silence of the Grand Hall. She didn't look at Henderson; her fingers moved with practiced precision to a deeply ink-stained page near the back, stamped with a heavy, crumbling wax seal bearing the royal crest of King George III.