Vivienne The Cruel Prince Novels & Stories

"Who said this would be easy? The queen was clearly pleased with him yesterday, and today he's dead. He didn't even last twenty-four hours. She's so brutal—how are we supposed to win her over?" "It's impossible. We'll never make it back home. We might as well wait here to die!" Only I remained as calm as before, replaying everything that had happened the day before. The company had organized an overseas trip. Then the plane crashed. When we opened our eyes again, we had all transmigrated into a novel as challengers. Our target was the story's female lead—the Queen Rara McKayla. She ruled the world, peerlessly beautiful, yet notoriously mercurial. History recorded countless examples of her cr

Chapter 3: Redhaired Vixen Prince Aldrich Theano Prince Aldrich stared at the redhaired vixen called Lady A. In all his years in living in Nevera, he has never encountered a woman who could speak this audacious and boldly. Yes as a prince he has encountered beautiful women, women from different places and they've been quite forward too but her words is quite different from the ones he's heard. Her proposition is so shocking.. At first he thought he didn't hear her quite clearly...

A guard opened that carriage and asked with a bow, "Is there anything wrong, princess?" "I...my stomach hurts. Can we stop for a moment, I promise to be back in a jiffy!" She lied through her teeth, acting as if she was in pain. The guard stood still for a while, thinking if he should allow her or not. After contemplating for a while, he nodded his head and moved back a little for Vivian to get down from the carriage. Vivian's lips curved up into a smirk, she pulled her wedding gown up and walked towards the bushes. She squatted down and when she was certain that the guards were not watching, she tore off her wedding gown and then....ran!

Humans might not possess magic, but they don’t carry a curse either. What is Princess Avalea doing here? Most Venusian Witches wouldn’t even be caught dead in this hut. At that, my heart skips several beats. What if she is dead? My hands and feet go cold as I inch forward until I’m touching the edge of the pallet. I bend over close to her face to check if she’s breathing. And that’s when she turns around and opens her eyes. Her eyes, the color of spun gold, are wide and filled with terror. Her mouth opens into a silent scream as she scoots away from me until her back hits the wall.

Silence, before the next wave. Vivienne kicked the door in. Her heel was broken, but she walked steadily, blood dripping on the white floor. Old Martin stared at her. Vivienne’s dress torn, blood on her skin. Her face betrayed nothing. “You can't kill me. I'm with the Council...” Martin cowered, voice shaking. Vivienne ignored him. She strode to the bed, hands already on the tubes. “You don't deserve clean blood,” she hissed. She ripped the tubes free.

’ And it had no relation to flirting. “And that's why you called me a killer?” I ask, unable to stop myself. He smiles. “Well, aren't—” The ballroom doors burst open. “ZAYNE!!” His smile falters as all eyes turn toward the voice. At the door stood the queen, her face red, eyes blazing with fury. And then I see him. My target. Crown Prince, Alpha Reynold. His expression is calm, a stark contrast to his mother’s, there's a tiny, fond smile on his lips as he meets Alpha Zayne’s eyes.

Lord Ottai reasoned. "Do as you wish, Ottai. Tell them everything or tell them nothing. I care not,” Vladya stated. “Whether she lives or dies, I care not either. I shall throw in the pretty little prince next, and if he perishes too, I shall be on the next carriage to the next human kingdom to select another princess for him. That is the only aspect of this that concerns me." A silence fell after their exchange, leaving Emeriel's mind racing with fear and disbelief. Service the beast? Die?

Then, through the trees, a column of riders appeared—black silhouettes against the crimson light. The villagers poured into the square, whispering prayers. At the front rode a man who seemed carved from shadow itself. His armor was etched with runes that pulsed faintly red, and a long cloak flowed behind him like smoke. His face was half hidden by a hood, but his eyes caught the moonlight—crimson, cold, and alive. “The Dark Prince,” someone breathed. “He’s real.” The man dismounted, the air itself seeming to bow away from him. His gaze swept the crowd. “By order of the Crown,” he said, voice low but carrying. “We seek the girl born under the Blood Moon.”

The tenth year since I accidentally landed in modern-day America, and the system finally noticed me—a glitch in its timeline. It told me that in three days, I'd be sent back to where I truly belonged. Back to London. Back to my era. And I—I used to be one of the most powerful men in the entire British Empire. Alexander William Windsor. First in line to the British throne. The system gave me seventy-two hours. A countdown to say goodbye to this century. Day one, my fiancée Evelyn told me our wedding had to be called off. Because Ryan—the boy she'd grown up with—had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Day two, Evelyn brought Ryan home. To our home. She said he had nowhere else to go. Asked

She's enjoying eating the chicken adobo that I cooked. The Prince sat across from Ysabelle. "Ysabelle, why are you consuming the adobo cooked by Zariya? Stop eating that! You should offer me that." He looks like a toddler kidnapped by Prince Dern's complaining lollipop. "I'm sorry but I won't let you eat because I'm hungry!" I was surprised by Ysabelle's answer and gesture. Was what I heard right? She didn't pay any respect to the Prince. "Why are you already answering?" Prince Dern took a piece of apple from the table and no doubt threw it at Ysabelle. Fortunately, Ysabelle caught it right before it hit her in the face. "Learn to respect a handsome Prince like me even if you're still a frie