Tales From A Not-so-graceful Ice Princess Novels & Stories

She said with a dreamy look. She had nothing of a princess... She hardly spoke of fancy dresses or crowns, she simply spoke of her manners... She hardly acted like a savage but she didn't have refined manners like the woman in front of her either... Mirabelle... Is this what she would have looked like if she had been a princess? She would think she was beautiful... - I am Princess Mira-belle... She says with a theatrical air. - Keep your voice down! And don't ever do that again... It's not like me...

I wanted to be anywhere but sitting at that table. “My apologies to my lovely companion,” Jack bellowed for the vampires at the end of the table to hear, “I was so occupied with our very special guest, Prince Mandrake of Kurr, that I neglected to see to her wardrobe. Please join me in making her welcome at this table, for she is perfect just as she is. As for tomorrow, it is my sincerest hope that one of you lovely ladies will see your way to introducing my princess and love to our Dresser.

A harsh laugh, devoid of humor, echoed in the confined space. “Where you belong, princess. For now.” A hand, large and calloused, brushed against her cheek, a touch that made her skin crawl. She flinched away, a desperate, futile movement. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice, though still weak, held a surprising edge of defiance. “Feisty, ain’t she?” the gruff voice mused. “James sure picked a spirited one.”

My body changed rapidly into something I myself can't control, My eyes dazzled in the wolf costume, that's what I can classify it as to make me comfortable and not sad, howling continuously only a word echoes in my head faintly, it is My mom. 'Ella!!!' The full moon...full moon light, no Lord, I whispered, but it was too late to lament, I screamed as my body changes into a beautiful dangerous white wolf, now I'm possessed, I bumped out of the window into the woods, you could guess what my game is, it's hunting, hunting for the dark shadow I don't know of, taking a race after a prey I can't even get in touch with, this is what happens every year, This is the calamity I faced, No my parents fa

one of them said, his tone rigid. I smiled coldly. The next moment, my hand swung, the sharp crack of my slap echoing in the hallway. "I am the king's future wife," I hissed, my voice dripping with venom. "I am Vincent's Luna, open the door immediately." They didn't move. Not a single one. Their silence burned hotter than fire. My face went pale with fury. I could feel eyes watching from nearby corridors, servants, soldiers, guards, all seeing me, Dane, the future queen, being denied entry like some unimportant stranger.

She sighs, leaning against the counter and closing her eyes. “I can still see them in bed together when I close my eyes. Still hear their lewd moans.” Her voice cracks, and I am up on my feet, pulling my Princess into my arms, and slowly rubbing her back to soothe the pain away, although part of me wishes I could help her forget by having her in my bed learning what it means to be with a man who will worship the ground she walks on.

Yet, the view inside was something that would make anyone react even more strongly. The grey stone beyond the door was covered in ice and snow. It was so cold that any water leaking inside would directly turn solid. The Princess' breath also turned to snow that softly floated to the ground. Yet inside that giant freezer, several people sat side by side on a wooden bank. Their faces were void of any emotion, quietly gazing at the entrance. A careful observer might notice that their breath didn't lead to a change in the air like Helmina's did. Or more like, they didn't even breathe at all.

Smith while he talks about his daughter. Alora Smith, the Ice Princess. When we were in kindergarten, she's always so cheerful and happy. She was always surrounded with people. She's a math genius and was accelerated twice. She was always glowing and the first time I saw her, I thought I saw an angel. We were very close when we were young but she suddenly changed after that incident.

“The real story. Not the file.” I stared at the ceiling. Firelight danced across the beams. “She was nineteen when she met Sergei Kovalev. He was already powerful. Ruthless. She was the daughter of a minor pakhan. Beautiful. Defiant. They called her the Ice Princess because she never cried. Not even when he beat her.” Valerio’s arm tightened around me.

For now, I’m not letting tonight be hijacked by rumours or ghosts. Not after what I felt on that balcony. So I smile, bright and breezy, and say, “Anyway—did you guys see the Ice Queen?” Elena perks up. “Princess Thaliana?” “She spoke to us,” Karissah gasps. “I thought I imagined it.” “She told me my dress had ‘main character energy,’” Elena says, dreamy. “She asked where I got my earrings,” I add. “Said they were ‘delightfully unserious.’”