Charles had expected their "normal walk" to be, well, normal. The idea was to spend some casual time together, away from the palace's relentless formality, maybe chat about something other than royal duties or Pierre’s latest attempts at matchmaking. However, being a prince—and Max being Max—meant nothing could ever be truly "normal."
As they strolled down the palace garden path, Charles kept sneaking glances at Max. He was still processing how easily Max had agreed to this—walking, no security detail, no schedules. Just them. And it wasn’t awkward, which was...new. But, of course, Charles was a pro at ruining moments with his awkwardness.
“So…what do you do when you’re not saving royal necks from trouble?” Charles asked, cringing at his own question. He was trying to sound casual, but it came out like he was interviewing Max for a job. Again.
Max raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “You mean when I’m not stopping you from sneaking out to nightclubs or convincing your father not to murder me?”
Charles laughed nervously, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, apart from that.”
“Well,” Max began, his tone teasing, “I sleep. I watch TV. You know, the things normal people do.”
“Oh, I see,” Charles said, nodding dramatically. “So you're just a regular guy who occasionally prevents royal catastrophes. No secret hobbies like, I don’t know, knitting or extreme rock climbing?”
“Actually,” Max said with a straight face, “I’m an exceptional knitter. I’ve made an entire line of scarves for winter.”
Charles blinked. “Wait, really?”
Max burst out laughing, and Charles realized he'd been had. “No, Charles. Not really.”
Charles groaned, rubbing his face. “Okay, you got me. But in my defense, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about you.”
“Thanks. I think?” Max replied, grinning.
They continued walking, the conversation flowing more easily now, touching on lighter subjects. Max talked about his childhood in the Netherlands, which had involved a lot of karting, speed, and an alarming number of near-death experiences. Charles talked about the weird palace traditions he hated, like the one where he had to stand perfectly still while people bowed to him for what felt like an eternity.
“So what about your father?” Max asked after a pause. “Has he let up on you yet? He seemed… intense the last few times I was around.”
Charles sighed, kicking a pebble across the path. “Intense is one way of putting it. He’s been more controlling than ever. Even Pierre’s noticed, and Pierre barely notices when he’s got spinach in his teeth.”
Max winced. “That bad?”
Charles nodded, glancing at Max. “I think he’s more afraid I’ll mess something up. Or embarrass the family.”
“Charles, you’re a prince,” Max said softly. “I don’t think you can embarrass the family any more than Pierre already does.”
Charles snorted at that. “Fair point. But still. I’m not exactly the golden son he wants me to be.”
Max stopped walking for a second, causing Charles to slow down too. Max’s expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing vanished. “You’re a good guy, Charles. You don’t need to be perfect. Not for him. Not for anyone.”
Charles felt his chest tighten at the sincerity in Max’s voice. He wasn’t used to hearing that—not from his father, not even from his friends. And hearing it from Max, of all people, made his heart do a weird flip.
“Thanks,” Charles muttered, suddenly feeling shy. “That means a lot.”
Max just nodded, and they walked in comfortable silence for a bit. But before Charles could get too deep in his feelings, disaster struck in the form of paparazzi.
They turned a corner, and suddenly, there they were—two photographers hiding behind a bush, their lenses trained on the prince and his maybe-slightly-more-than-a-friend bodyguard. Charles froze, and Max immediately tensed beside him.
“Oh no,” Charles whispered.
Max sighed. “Yep.”
Before Charles could even think of a plan, the photographers jumped out from behind the bush, clicking away furiously. Charles raised a hand to shield his face, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“Prince Charles! Prince Charles! Who’s your friend? Is this the famous Max? Are you two dating?”
Charles’s eyes widened. “WHAT?!”
Max stepped forward, glaring at the photographers with a look that could’ve turned them to stone if that were possible. “Back off,” he growled, in a voice so commanding that even Charles flinched. The photographers, though visibly shaken, weren’t about to leave without their prize shots.
Charles grabbed Max’s arm, tugging him back slightly. “Let’s just go. Before this turns into an even bigger scene.”
Max hesitated, but with a grunt of frustration, he allowed Charles to pull him away. As they hurried down the path, Charles muttered under his breath, “Well, that wasn’t exactly the quiet day I had in mind.”
“You really thought we’d get away with a quiet day?” Max replied, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You’re royalty. And I’m… apparently, part of the royal drama now.”
Charles sighed. “Yeah, you are. Sorry about that.”
Max gave him a sidelong glance. “You know, I’m starting to think you enjoy dragging me into chaos.”
Charles smirked. “Hey, you knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to work for me.”
Max shook his head, but he was smiling. “That I did.”
---
Later that evening, after they had managed to escape the paparazzi and make it back to the palace without any more interruptions, Charles found himself sitting in the library with Max, both of them unwinding after the day’s events.
“I still can’t believe they asked if we were dating,” Charles muttered, his cheeks burning at the memory.
Max chuckled. “You get used to it. People will always make assumptions.”
“Yeah, well, I wish they’d assume less. And I wish Pierre hadn’t seen the whole thing,” Charles grumbled, knowing full well Pierre was going to tease him endlessly about this.
Max leaned back in his chair, looking far more relaxed than he had earlier. “Could’ve been worse. They could’ve caught us doing something actually scandalous.”
Charles’s eyes widened as his mind went to the absolute worst (and somehow most embarrassing) places. “Max!”
Max smirked, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just saying.”
Charles threw a pillow at him, laughing. Max caught it easily, tossing it back without breaking eye contact.
And just like that, the awkwardness of earlier vanished, replaced by a comfortable familiarity. They weren’t quite back to where they’d been before all the drama, but Charles could feel something shifting between them. Slowly, but surely.
Maybe, just maybe, things were heading in the right direction.
YOU ARE READING
𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛
Fanfiction(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♡
