𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛

Chapter 2: The Prince of Peril

It had been precisely 48 hours since Max Verstappen had been assigned to protect Prince Charles Leclerc, and in that short span, Max had concluded one thing: Charles was a walking hazard. Not in the dramatic, life-threatening way that most royals might be, but more in the "I accidentally triggered a national incident by sneezing at the wrong time" kind of way.

Today's adventure began with Charles deciding he needed some "fresh air." Max had quickly learned that this phrase translated to "I'm going to wander into trouble, try to keep up." And so, they found themselves strolling along the Monaco harbor, with Max trailing just a few paces behind, trying to appear relaxed but secretly calculating how many ways Charles could get himself injured within a hundred-foot radius.

"Do you really have to hover like that?" Charles asked, glancing back at Max with a playful grin. "I'm not going to explode, you know."

Max's eyes narrowed slightly. "You say that, but I'm not convinced. You've got 'accident waiting to happen' written all over you."

Charles chuckled. "Nonsense. I'm perfectly capable of-" His sentence trailed off as he got distracted by a group of tourists. Of course, they recognized him instantly, and in typical Charles fashion, he was soon charming them with that megawatt smile of his.

Max, meanwhile, noticed the growing crowd around them. His danger sensors started pinging, especially when he spotted a stage being set up nearby for a concert. He mentally calculated the odds of something going wrong in the next five minutes and landed on *highly likely.*

"Maybe we should head back," Max suggested in his best *I'm trying to sound casual but really, please listen to me* voice.

"Why?" Charles replied, barely glancing at him. "It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the sea is sparkling, and I'm-"

"About to get trampled by a mob," Max finished under his breath as a loud crash rang out from the stage. The startled crowd began to surge, and within seconds, Charles was swept up in the chaos.

Max's internal monologue was not particularly charitable in that moment. *Of course, he's in the middle of it. Of course, this happens.* He moved swiftly through the crowd, his focus entirely on locating the prince. It wasn't hard-Charles was currently doing an awkward hop-and-limp combo, having clearly twisted his ankle.

"Oh, fantastic," Charles muttered, trying to maintain his princely dignity while simultaneously getting jostled by people on all sides.

Max swooped in like a hawk, grabbing Charles by the arm and yanking him out of the throng with a bit more force than necessary. "And this is why I hover," he growled, more to himself than to Charles.

"Not... now, Verstappen," Charles managed through gritted teeth, clearly in pain but also too proud to admit it.

Max didn't bother with a response. He was too busy maneuvering Charles out of the danger zone and into the back of the black SUV that had become their mobile fortress. The driver didn't even blink as they sped off, leaving the chaos behind.

Charles slumped against the seat, trying to pretend his ankle wasn't throbbing like a bad techno beat. "Well, that was... eventful."

Max shot him a look that screamed *I told you so,* but all he said was, "You're not exactly low maintenance, are you?"

"I like to think of it as being adventurous," Charles quipped, though his wince as he shifted in his seat undercut his bravado.

Back at the palace, Max had Charles seated before he could protest, and he was already kneeling down to inspect the damage. Charles tried to wave him off, saying something about being fine, but Max wasn't having it.

"Sit still," Max ordered, his tone firm but oddly gentle as he pulled off Charles's shoe and sock. The sight of the prince's rapidly swelling ankle made Max sigh. "You really know how to make my job interesting, don't you?"

"Interesting is one word for it," Charles muttered, watching with a mixture of amusement and disbelief as Max expertly wrapped his ankle. "You're surprisingly good at this."

Max didn't look up. "You'd be surprised how often I have to patch people up."

Charles winced as Max tightened the bandage, though he had to admit that Max's touch was... comforting? No, that wasn't the right word. Soothing? Better, but still too soft. *Annoyingly capable,* Charles decided. He glanced at Max, who was now moving on to check his ribs with those same annoyingly capable hands.

"Ow," Charles complained as Max's fingers pressed against a particularly sore spot.

"Sorry," Max said, though the apology sounded more like a statement of fact than actual remorse. He continued his examination with clinical efficiency, but there was something about the way his hands moved-gentle, despite their strength-that made Charles's mind wander to places it really shouldn't.

"Do you always take your job this seriously?" Charles asked, trying to deflect his own thoughts.

Max finally met his gaze, his blue eyes sharp yet somehow soft. "When the job involves someone as stubborn as you? Yeah."

Charles grinned, despite the situation. "You think I'm stubborn?"

"I think you're a menace to yourself," Max replied, though there was the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Fair enough," Charles conceded, watching Max as he finished his first-aid routine. There was something oddly endearing about the way Max handled all of this with such calm competence. Endearing in a *he could probably snap me in half, but also makes me feel oddly safe* kind of way.

Max stood up, crossing his arms as he looked down at the prince. "You're going to need to take it easy for a while."

Charles made a face. "You mean I'll have to sit still and be boring? Sounds dreadful."

Max smirked. "Boring sounds like exactly what you need."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "You're not actually going to make me stay put, are you?"

Max leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Watch me."

For a moment, Charles's brain short-circuited. Was it the proximity? The way Max's voice seemed to vibrate in the air between them? Whatever it was, Charles found himself momentarily at a loss for words, which was a rare occurrence.

Max straightened, clearly amused by the prince's reaction. "Try not to get into more trouble while I'm gone," he said, heading for the door.

"Can't make any promises," Charles called after him, his usual confidence returning. But as Max walked away, Charles couldn't help but smile to himself, realizing that maybe-just maybe-having Max around wasn't so bad.

In fact, it might be the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. And that, Charles decided, was definitely something to be concerned about. Or maybe, just maybe, something to look forward to.