The Cruel Prince Novels & Stories

The maid sighed as she took a quick peek at the Princess from the slightly gaping door. "What have the cruel Prince done to this poor young lady to make her act this way?" She shivers at the thought of the Princess getting punished sadistically. And Mary became even more terrified as she considered the possibility of the Prince tormenting the Princess into killing herself. The idea was not impossible since the Prince is well known in the Lilac Palace to be a ruthless killer, though that secret only remains inside the palace walls. Anyone who leaks this secret is punishable by death. Gaining a little courage in approaching the Princess, Mary tried her shot in h

“I’ve only come to pay my respects.” “In… in this manner?!” She yells, face rumpled in disgust as she takes in his appearance. “You’re barely dressed. You barged in here with whores and you reek of alcohol! Why on earth do you keep tainting the royal family’s name?! Don't you have any respect for the king or the crown prince?!” There’s pleading and desperation in her voice, emotions I think are enough to make the drunken prince feel remorseful but instead, he laughs.

He needed to bear more insults from her, and he was going to do it as long as he got what he wanted. He had been able to learn that the princess did not have anyone in her life, as she was arrogant and full of herself. She had looked down on a lot of men, and the king, her elder brother, was looking into getting a prince from another kingdom to marry her, but no one had come yet. He smiled. "Well, I have the looks, and I'm definitely going to teach her a lesson." He finally went into the hall and paid some of the women at the entrance and had some perfume sprayed at him.

Caesar stepped into the snow. Not in armor. Not in rage. But in a long coat lined with dark gold, its silver buttons gleaming like captured moonlight. He was tall, graceful.His face carved by gods, yet softened by warmth. Pale lips curved in a smile. A single blood-red mole beneath his right eye, like a drop of wine on porcelain. More radiant than Lucian. More comforting than the hearth. The Blood Prince of the Empire. He stopped before me. Then knelt—just slightly—so our eyes met level.

The glorious name of The Man of pride. "All rise to His Imperial Grace, The Crowned Prince of The East, His Royal Highness, Prince Nolan Armstrong". The words of the announcer were carried out when the figure of the Prince of The East came to light and every breathing thing, man and woman, kings, emperors, and rulers, queens, duchesses, and counts, mighty men, and countesses, the rich, the poor, the laborers, bowed to his presence. He stood in power. Kathryn could not believe her eyes. He was there. Her prince was there in flesh and blood. Nolan's dark eyes were fixed on the throne as they beheld just one person. He only wanted to see just her and stand before just her.

the chef handed Mikhail a knife and a basket of potatoes asking him to help him peel it. Mikhail had tried following in his brother's footsteps, yet it still felt like something he could not imitate. What could define a prince? It was an open ended question that he too was unsure of. However, to always remain hidden behind a mask of perfection... It was something he couldn't do. He was imperfect and incapable of acting as intended by William. Speaking of princes, it reminded him of how there was a rumour from long ago in a town he had stayed in many years ago of a young prince from a foreign land. Unlike most prince, he was unrefined and preferred to live out his life to the fullest.

The sharp click of her 5-inch heels echoed through the lobby. She stopped in the center of the hall, her expression unreadable as she looked at the still little figure on the floor. "Still putting on a show? Is this what Howard taught you—how to fake sympathy? You really think that if you act pitiful enough, I'll soften up? Keep dreaming." Each word cut through me like a blade, stabbing my soul again and again. I wanted to scream—how could she? How could she believe such cruelty of her own child? My boy was gentle, obedient, innocent… Tears spilled onto his face.

“I am your prince!” One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. He leveled his spear at me, his voice devoid of emotion as he spoke the words that sent ice through my veins. “Prince Neil, you are under arrest and sentenced to death for consorting with Werewolves.”

Mr Wright almost jumped out of his boots when he heard Shawn’s raspy voice not expecting him to be behind him, “My lord, when?” “Just now, stop wasting time,” Shawn said and went to sit by the table. The doctor got up and glanced over at Shawn then scoffed and it did not fly by Shawn without being seen. As he followed behind Mr Wright the physician asked, “Who is that fellow that thinks he can order us around? And why did he call the prince by his name, you also referred to him as Lord.” Mr Wright sighed and said, “Doctor please refrain from asking questions and spreading rumours you do not want to upset Prince Aldridge or my lord.”

He could feel it, the cruel prince was up to one of his games again and he was going to drag him into it. Issac stood ramrod his hands behind him, "Of course! I have to rescue the crown prince!" "Good. You pick up faster than I thought." Aldric grinned, his white sharp teeth making him look more fiendish than he was supposed to look. It took everything in Isaac not to run away when the cruel prince approached him till they were standing face to face. "Now, this is what you are going to do…."