My Modern Fairytale || A Princess Romance || Camp NaNoWriMo
  • Reads 498
  • Votes 41
  • Parts 39
  • Time 6h 44m
  • Reads 498
  • Votes 41
  • Parts 39
  • Time 6h 44m
Ongoing, First published Dec 04, 2019
In the midst of a brewing civil war, Sofia, a simple woman, just wants to be married and settle down. That is, until, a prince crashes into her life, threatening everything she's known and her family's safety. As the two of them embark on adventures together, against all odds, she realises she's beginning to fall for him.

\\

	A thud in the distance. I turn suddenly, alert. While we had neighbours, most of them would be in town, setting up for the celebrations. No one would've left their dog outside and although we were on the wooded edge of town, deer usually didn't wander this close.

	Shuffle, shuffle. My throat seized. 

	Suddenly, a figure burst through the hedges, running straight towards me. I suppressed a scream as he ran into me. The two of us hitting the ground. Ow, my nose. 

	My hand flew to my nose, already anticipating the bleeding. 

	"Shoot," I hissed in the dark.

	"Get down," My attacker roughly pulled me back. We were in one of Mum's many bushes.

	"No!" I cried, wrenching my arm back. Was this how I got abducted? I started to breath heavily, scrambling back in the bushes even further.

	"Shush, please!" He whispered urgently, "I need your help!"

	"I don't need to help you," I hissed, "crazy person! Rushing in on my backyard!"

	"I know! And I'm so sorry! It's a matter of life and death!" He panted. Between the low light and the thick branches, I could barely get a good look at my attacker. He had a dark grey hood up and over his head. In terms of age, he was on the younger side of attackers, which did nothing to help my wild theory that he was coming to abduct me.

	"So?" I whispered, trying to slow my panting.

	"My name's C-." He breathed, "Wait are you bleeding?"

	For the second time my hand flew to my nose. As I expected a torrent of blood was running forth. I wiped the worst of it away from my mouth. 

	"I mean, that's what happens when somebody tackles you to the ground," I hissed.
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Reaping The Red Heir by eden_ari
54 parts Complete Mature
He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*
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Reaping The Red Heir

54 parts Complete Mature

He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*