Max had a feeling something was wrong the second he saw the two royal guards waiting for him outside his room. Their faces were unreadable, their posture stiff, but the message was clear: this wasn’t a casual visit.
Max stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking. He’d been expecting something to happen ever since that disastrous argument between Charles and the King, but not this—not so soon, not so final.
“The King has requested your presence in his study,” one of the guards said, his tone carefully neutral.
Max’s stomach churned. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew what this was about. The tension had been building for weeks, ever since he and Charles had started to get closer, ever since Max had begun to question his own role in all of this. But still, a small part of him had hoped that he could fix things, that whatever was brewing between him and Charles’ father could be smoothed over.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
Max followed the guards silently down the long corridors, his mind racing. The palace, usually a place he’d learned to navigate with ease, now felt suffocating. Every step echoed in his ears, each one bringing him closer to what he was sure would be the end of his time here.
When they reached the King’s study, the guards knocked once, then opened the door for him. Max took a deep breath and stepped inside.
King Hervé was seated behind his large, imposing desk, his hands clasped in front of him. His face was a mask of control, but there was a tightness around his mouth, a barely concealed fury that Max could feel from across the room.
“Your Majesty,” Max said, standing stiffly, unsure if he should sit or stay standing. The King didn’t offer him a chair, so he remained where he was.
Hervé stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, his eyes piercing. “Max,” he said finally, his voice low and measured, “do you know why you’re here?”
Max swallowed. He had an idea, of course, but saying it out loud would make it real. Still, he forced himself to answer. “I have a guess, Your Majesty.”
Hervé leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Max’s face. “You were hired to protect my son,” he began slowly, each word deliberate. “To keep him safe. To ensure he stays out of trouble.”
Max nodded, his throat dry. “Yes, Your Majesty. That’s my job.”
“And yet,” Hervé continued, his voice growing colder, “not only has Charles been involved in multiple reckless incidents over the past few months, but you’ve also allowed yourself to become entangled with him in a way that is—how should I put this?—unprofessional.”
Max’s stomach clenched. He knew where this was going. “Your Majesty, I’ve done everything in my power to protect the prince. He’s… difficult at times, but I—”
The King cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Do not make excuses, Max. Charles is my son, and I understand his nature better than anyone. But that does not excuse your behavior. You are his bodyguard, not his friend. Not his confidant. And certainly not his equal.”
Max’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I’ve always acted with the prince’s best interests in mind.”
Hervé’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Because from where I stand, it looks like you’ve been encouraging him. Letting him run wild, ignoring my instructions. You’ve allowed him to think he can defy me, and that is unacceptable.”
Max opened his mouth to protest, to explain that it wasn’t like that, that he had been doing everything he could to keep Charles grounded, but the words caught in his throat. The truth was, he had let his guard down. He had gotten too close, too involved. He had started to care about Charles in a way that went beyond his duty, and now, he was paying the price.
“I know Charles has been struggling,” Max said carefully, his voice low. “But he’s under a lot of pressure. He needs someone to support him.”
Hervé’s expression darkened. “He needs discipline. And you’ve failed to provide that.”
The room fell into an icy silence. Max felt his pulse quicken, but he stayed silent, knowing that arguing with the King would only make things worse.
“You’ve become a distraction, Max,” Hervé said after a long pause, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You’ve crossed a line. You’ve forgotten your place. And for that reason, I can no longer trust you to protect my son.”
Max’s heart sank. There it was—the verdict he had been dreading.
“You’re firing me,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hervé’s gaze was as cold as ever. “Yes. Effective immediately. You’ll be escorted out of the palace today. You’ll be compensated for your time here, of course. But your services are no longer required.”
Max’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he kept his expression neutral. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, Charles needs someone who understands him. Someone who—”
“Charles needs someone who will follow my orders,” Hervé snapped, his voice sharp. “And you are no longer capable of that. You’ve let your personal feelings get in the way of your duty, and I will not tolerate it.”
Max swallowed the bitter retort that rose in his throat. There was nothing he could say that would change the King’s mind. He had already made his decision.
“Very well,” Max said stiffly, forcing himself to remain calm. “I’ll leave.”
Hervé nodded, clearly satisfied that the conversation was over. “Good. You will not speak to Charles before you go. The guards will ensure that.”
Max’s chest tightened at the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Charles, but he knew there was no point in arguing. It would only make things worse—for both of them.
He nodded once, then turned to leave the room. But just as he reached the door, Hervé’s voice stopped him.
“Max.”
Max turned back, meeting the King’s gaze one last time.
“You’ve done your job well in the past,” Hervé said, his tone almost begrudging. “But don’t let yourself forget—this is not a world for men like you. You are replaceable.”
Max didn’t respond. He just gave a curt nod and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that felt like the end of everything.
As he made his way back to his quarters, escorted by the guards like a criminal, Max’s mind raced. He’d known this might happen—he’d felt it coming for a while. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
He thought about Charles—about the way he’d slowly let Max in, about the way they’d gone from barely tolerating each other to something much closer, something Max had never quite defined. And now, it was all over. He’d be gone before Charles even realized what had happened.
And for the first time in a long time, Max felt utterly powerless.
When he reached his room, the guards waited outside while he packed his things. It didn’t take long—he hadn’t brought much with him when he started this job, and he hadn’t accumulated much since. His whole life fit neatly into a single duffel bag.
As he slung the bag over his shoulder and prepared to leave, he couldn’t help but glance at the door across the hall—the door to Charles’ room. The urge to knock, to say something, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.
With one last look, Max turned away and walked down the hall, the weight of what he was leaving behind heavier than the bag on his shoulder.
He was gone before Charles even knew.
AHHH GUYS IKK THE SPELLING OF THE KING IS WRONG BUT JUST PRETEND YOU DIDN'T SEE IT ISTG I CAN'T GET IT RIGHT
YOU ARE READING
𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛
Fanfiction"but I don't have royal blood..." he spoke "for fuck sake just kiss me" A lestappen story :)
