Charles had never been one for groveling. He was a prince, after all. Princes were supposed to hold their heads high, act with dignity, and command respect without ever breaking a sweat. At least, that’s what the countless lessons, etiquette training, and disapproving glares from his father had taught him over the years.
But today was different. Today, he was a desperate prince, and desperate times called for desperate measures.
He needed Max back. And that meant facing the one person in the palace who could turn his world upside down with a single disapproving raise of an eyebrow: King Hervé.
Charles woke up early, an unusual occurrence for him, especially after the emotionally draining days he’d been through. But as soon as he opened his eyes, his heart pounding with the knowledge that Max was supposed to come back today, he knew there was no more time to waste. He had to act. Now.
His first attempt was at breakfast. He approached the dining room with a sense of determination that could only be described as “mildly terrified.” His father sat at the head of the table, reading through some official documents while sipping coffee. He hadn’t even noticed Charles enter.
“Good morning, Father,” Charles began, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
King Hervé barely glanced up. “Hmm.”
Charles bit his lip. Not a great start. But he wasn’t going to let that deter him. He pulled out a chair, the screech of the legs on the marble floor louder than he intended, causing his father to look at him with mild annoyance.
“So,” Charles continued, settling in, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About, you know… things.”
“Things,” his father echoed, his tone dripping with royal indifference.
“Yeah, things like… um… responsibilities. And people. People who have helped me a lot. People who may have been unfairly fired.”
Charles paused, holding his breath, hoping this would spark some sort of reaction.
The King turned a page of his document, completely unfazed. “I assume you’re referring to Max.”
“Yes!” Charles said, a little too eagerly. “Yes, Max! I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think we should reconsider—”
“No,” King Hervé said flatly, still not looking up from his papers.
“But—”
“No.”
Charles slumped in his chair, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. This is going to be harder than I thought, he realized. But he wasn’t giving up that easily.
---
Attempt #2:
After breakfast, Charles followed his father to the royal gardens, where King Hervé liked to take his daily stroll and enjoy the quiet. Normally, this was a time for peaceful reflection, but today it was a battleground. Charles was going to win this. Somehow.
The King walked slowly along the stone path, hands behind his back, admiring the flowers. Charles trailed after him, trying to time his words perfectly.
“You know, Father,” he began again, his voice light, “these flowers are really beautiful. Reminds me of something Max said once. He’s a big fan of nature. Very… protective. Kind of like how he was with me, actually.”
The King didn’t break stride. “I see what you’re doing, Charles.”
Charles blinked innocently. “I’m just saying, maybe we should bring him back. You know, for the flowers. And for me.”
King Hervé sighed, clearly irritated now. “Charles, Max was a distraction. I fired him for a reason.”
“Yes, but—what if it wasn’t a good reason?” Charles blurted, his voice edging into desperation. “What if it was a mistake? People make mistakes, right? Like, remember when I accidentally ordered the wrong wine for the state dinner, and you were upset, but you forgave me? That was a mistake, and you forgave me!”
The King stopped walking and turned to face his son, his expression as stern as ever. “Max is not wine, Charles.”
“I mean, metaphorically, he is,” Charles muttered, scratching the back of his head. “Like, the vintage that gets better with time. We shouldn’t just toss him out.”
King Hervé raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing your bodyguard to wine now?”
“I’m just saying, everyone deserves a second chance! He’s important to me—uh, to my safety, I mean,” Charles stammered, feeling himself dig deeper into the metaphorical hole.
The King shook his head and resumed his walk. “This conversation is over.”
Charles groaned inwardly. He was losing ground fast.
---
Attempt #3:
By the time lunch rolled around, Charles was running out of ideas. His father had retreated to his office, leaving Charles alone to pace the hallway outside like a caged animal.
“Alright, Charles, this is it,” he whispered to himself, psyching himself up. “Time to go big. No holding back.”
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked on the door. After a moment, his father’s voice came from inside. “Enter.”
Charles stepped into the office, his heart hammering in his chest. The King was seated at his desk, engrossed in some important document, but Charles wasn’t about to let that stop him.
“Father,” Charles said, his voice shaky but firm, “I know I’ve been bothering you all day about Max, but I need you to understand something.”
The King looked up, his expression unreadable. “What is it now?”
Charles hesitated for a split second, then went for it. “I need him. Not just as my bodyguard, but as someone I trust. Someone who’s been there for me when no one else has. I know you think he’s a distraction, but he’s not. He’s the opposite of that. He’s grounded me in ways you don’t even realize.”
King Hervé’s gaze softened slightly, though his face remained stern. “Charles, you are a prince. Your focus should be on your duty to this country, not on personal attachments.”
“This isn’t just a personal attachment,” Charles said, his voice breaking a little. “It’s more than that. I’ve never asked for much, Father. But I’m asking for this. Please.”
The King studied his son for a long, silent moment. Charles held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He had laid everything out, exposed every nerve. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know what else he could do.
Finally, King Hervé sighed deeply, setting down his papers. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
Charles nodded, his throat tight. “I am. More than I’ve ever been about anything.”
The King leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “If I let Max return, it will not be under the same circumstances. You understand that?”
Charles blinked in surprise. “What… what do you mean?”
“He will no longer be your bodyguard. If I allow him back into the palace, it will be in a different capacity, one that doesn’t interfere with your responsibilities.”
Charles could hardly believe his ears. His father was actually considering it. “I don’t care what capacity he’s in, as long as he’s here,” Charles said quickly, his heart swelling with hope.
King Hervé gave him a long, measured look before nodding slightly. “Very well. I will make the necessary arrangements. But Charles—” His tone grew stern again. “You had better not let this affect your duties. Understood?”
Charles nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Understood. Thank you, Father. Thank you.”
Without waiting for a response, Charles bolted from the office, his heart racing. He couldn’t believe it. He had actually done it. Max was coming back.
As he sprinted down the hallway, a thought crossed his mind: Maybe I should practice begging more often.
YOU ARE READING
𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛
Hayran Kurgu(A Lestappen story) A royal prince and a former f1 driver who now is a bodyguard. What could happen ~ -English is not my first language,so ignore the errors♡
