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miryum · 1 year

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Sleepless in Monaco (Charles Leclerc x Reader) royal!AU

Hi! This is my first F1 fic so I hope you guys enjoy. I worked really hard on this and am pretty proud of it!

Warnings: Swearing, implications of sex, insomnia, nightmares, death, parents in the military, and any others I missed

Word Count: 10.4k

Disclaimer: I know nothing of how the monarchy works. Take my words about the inner monarchy with a grain of salt. I took the British monarchy and twisted it to fit my needs for this work of fiction, so all of this is highly unrealistic. For example, an heir cannot abdicate before the monarch’s death, but for the sake of this fic, in Monaco, they can. No other country has as strict coronations for their monarchs as Britain does, and even there it’s usually months after a monarch is dead, but I wanted to speed things up!

Also, all of these people are exactly that- their own person and I am simply using their names and faces for a story.

Enjoy!

Countless studies showed that sleep was necessary and the more you got, the better off you were. Still, you didn’t like going to sleep. It felt needlessly unproductive. The nights were bouts of insomnia, and if you were allowed to sleep, it was always riddled with nightmares.

The most frequent nightmare started off in a meadow of dead flowers. It lulled you into a false sense of security, although being surrounded by death left worried butterflies in your gut. It was then followed by falling. You weren’t sure what you fell into, but all you knew is that it must be bottomless. As the helplessness and impending doom reached a climax, you woke up.

As a child you could always run to your parents, but now, as an adult, you had no one to run to. You were alone.

Tonight was like every other. You had trouble going to sleep, and when you finally did, you fell. You fell into the bottomless pit surrounded by dead flowers. And then you woke. The clock read only 1:44. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was your burner phone and the number was easily recognizable.

“Hey Arthur,” you ran a hand over your tired eyes.

He asked immediately, “did I wake you?”

“You know me; I’m never asleep.”

“Ah yes,” the youngest Leclerc brother clicked his tongue. “We share the same crazy sleep schedule.”

“The one thing that brought us together.” It was true, of course. Your nights in the castle had been just as sleepless as ever, and it was one night when you were roaming the halls that you bumped into the small prince. You had dropped into a messy curtsy (you were still learning how- you were only five at the time) but Arthur had laughed and said whoever was up at that time of night didn’t need to bow to him. It had then become a tradition. Whenever one of you couldn’t sleep, they would find the other and the night would usually end passed out in front of a blaring TV screen with dripping bodies from a rendezvous at the indoor castle pool. Alas, as the two of you got older and you moved out of the castle for school, your late-night meetings turned to late-night phone calls.

“Did you ever go to sleep?” You ask. “You sound wide awake.”

“No, I did not,” Arthur drew out his words, awaiting your reprimanding. You were too tired to do so, however, and just rolled your eyes. “Hey, you’re on summer break, right?” He switched the subject, “I have a proposition for you.”

You groaned. “What is it? Do you have another girl I need to chase away?”

“Carla and I are going strong, thank you very much,” Arthur said. You could feel his drama through the phone.

“Then what is it?” Arthur stalled and a sinking feeling pulled over you. “Arthur,” you demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” He said quickly before pausing and letting the next words coat over you. “Lorenzo just abdicated the throne.”

“What?!” You worried you had woken your neighbours up, but the shock was too strong that you couldn’t refrain from yelling. “Why?!”

“He was fed up,” Arthur simply said. “He didn’t want to be a part of this life.”

“But Charles…” You couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His life had just been upended. He was always content with being second. Content with being a prince without having the responsibility of the throne on his shoulders. Now he had to toughen up and prepare to rule after his father. Unless he wanted to leave the throne to Arthur, and you knew he could never do that to his younger brother, Charles was stuck. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to come back to Monaco,” he said.

“Why?”

“I think it would be really helpful for Charles and I to have you around again,” Arthur explained. “You were always such a good friend and were able to handle and control our craziness. Charles could really use an anchor such as you. I could get a position on my staff so you would have income, but-”

“You don’t need to convince me,” you smiled softly. “I’ll always come back.”

“To Monaco or to the Leclerc’s?” Arthur teased you.

“Whichever needs me first,” you laughed.

“Fantastic.” Arthur was giddy at the prospect of seeing his best friend again. “The plane is already at your airport.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and searched for your suitcase. “What if I had said no?”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s impossible for you to say no.”

As it turns out, the poor pilot had been waiting for over two hours, just at the prospect that a random girl might say yes to the prince’s pleas. You had apologised profusely to him before cracking open a book as you were flown to Monaco.

After you landed, you were shuttled to the castle in a black van that bore the flag of Monaco. The few pedestrians that were out in the early morning gawked at it, wondering what a member of the royal family was doing out this early, but you simply shielded away from the tinted windows. They would hear the news soon enough.

You had just opened your car door and were stepping onto the gravel driveway when Arthur burst out of the castle doors and greeted you with a tight hug.

“Geez, lemme get out of the car first!” But nonetheless, you squeezed him back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s been too long,” he agreed. “You won’t believe all the shit that’s been happening.”

“I haven’t read any tabloids just so I could hear all the gossip from you,” you said, laughing.

“Good, because they’ve all fucked the story up.” Arthur didn’t laugh along. You frowned slightly and took your luggage from the valet. It must be serious.

Arthur walked you inside, taking your bags like the gentleman he was. He explained, “I’ll get you all caught up later, but I need to go talk to Lorenzo quickly. Charles is out exercising in the gardens. He’ll want to see you.”

“Do I have to act differently around him?” You ask, “is there any strict protocol when talking to the next-in-line?”

Arthur looked at you, face scrunched in bemusement. “It’s not like he’s grown a tail, Y/n. It’s just Charles. And you never acted differently around Lorenzo than you did I or Charles.”

“True,” you conceded.

You and Arthur parted ways and you marvelled at how quickly the layout of the castle came back to you. It had been so long since you were last here, but you remembered it like yesterday.

Your feet took you to the gardens, and like always, you were blown away at the serenity of it all. Rows of bushes and hedges of all different types of flowers and plants spun out around you, twisting and weaving like a dancer as far as the eye could see. You knew that at the centre of it all was a magnificent fountain and on the outskirts were rows of apple trees. Your favourite spot was a weeping willow next to a small pond that was fed by a brook. You remembered countless hours spent on a tire swing your dad had hooked up, playing and laughing with the princes.

A wistful melancholy grew over you, but instead of wallowing in the sadness of the past, you decided to rejoice in its happiness.

But you couldn’t deny that you had missed Monaco. And it’s people.

Speaking of which, a figure was making their way through the garden. You recognised the silhouette instantly. “Charles!” you yelled.

The running figure stopped for a moment, staring at you, before starting up again, spriting your way. “Y/n!” It was clear he had been on a run, wearing black shorts and an athletic white t-shirt. Working out was a way Charles relieved stress, and you had no doubt that he was under a lot of stress right now. Charles swept you up in a monstrous hug, clinging to you like a lifeboat on stormy water. Your feet dangled in the air for a moment before he gently set you down. But the hug didn’t stop. His head was buried into the crook of your neck. “I missed you so much,” he whispered and his breath sent goosebumps along your skin.

“I missed you too, Charlie.” Charles’ heart jumped at the childhood nickname. “Arthur called me and told me what happened.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Charles muttered.

“Okay,” you hummed, just letting the poor boy embrace you. After a moment, you realised that the hug had exceeded the socially acceptable time for friends and cleared your throat. “Okay, sweaty-pants, you’re gross. Get off of me.” You pulled away and patted his chest.

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were off at school.” Charles looked at you with puppy-dog eyes. It made you melt.

“It’s summer break,” you shrugged.

“So you didn’t come back for me?” Charles pouted, even though both of you knew the real answer.

“Nah, I don’t care about you at all.” You shook your head. “I just came back for your brother.”

“Which one?!” Charles asked you as you stepped away. You laughed loudly and started walking back to the palace. “Which one?!” Charles shrieked, running after you.

“Your Majesties,” you cursitied lowly in front of Hervé and Pascale Leclerc.

Pascale rolled her eyes from her throne and smiled softly. “Y/n, please stop with the formalities. It’s a pleasure to have you back with us in Monaco.” Per tradition, you were thanking the King and Queen of Monaco for welcoming you back into the country. Charles and Arthur stood off to the side, Lorenzo nowhere to be found.

“And how are your Majesties faring?” you asked politely.

“Everything will turn out wonderfully,” Pascale said, although you knew you and her would be talking long into the night about the events that had transpired. “Are you staying with your brother, my dear?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “He recently bought a new home with his family and I don’t want to intrude.”

“Well then, you must stay with us!” Pascale beamed. “Did neither of my sons extend the invitation?”

“No, your Highness, they did not.” You grinned, knowing full well what was to come.

“Boys!” Pascale glared at her two youngest who cowered away from their mother’s sharp gaze.

“Mama!” Arthur whined in protest.

“Y/n is always welcome to stay with us. I expect you two to be on your best behaviour.” Arthur mumbled something to Charles that you couldn’t hear. The crown prince blushed and pushed Arthur away. “Isn’t that right, dear?” Pascale turned to her husband.

The king smiled kindly at you and whispered hoarsely, “always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my King.” You bowed your head in acknowledgment and reverence. It was well known that King Hervé’s health had been diminishing the past few years. As his age increased, his intellect and memory decreased. Though whatever his conditions, you still treasured childhood memories of him laughing at your father’s jokes, picking you up to dance at royal balls, or, if time allowed it, coming to play with you and the princes.

“And I don’t want you working at all while you’re here,” Queen Pascale wagged her finger at you playfully. “You are on vacation. Don’t let Arthur rope you into being an aide.”

“I won’t, your Highness,” you snuck a glance at Arthur but instead locked eyes with Charles. He winked at you and you knew that someway or another he would rope you into some dirty work.

“How long are you staying?” King Hervé asked and you snapped back to him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted. “School starts in September, but I could always postpone it for a semester.”

Charles cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Chérie, did you know that the castle could easily employ anyone of any talent and prestige? You must remember our tutor?”

“Charles, what are you suggesting?” Pascale lifted an eyebrow.

“All I’m saying,” Charles tried to look as innocent as possible. “Is that we haven’t seen Y/n for a while. If she wanted to, we could simply bring her schooling here. I’m sure her university would love it if they had an international student studying under the royal family.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what the boy was doing. “We’ll talk about it later,” Pascale assured him. “Y/n, come with me,” she smiled softly. “I’ll walk you to your room. As much as I love my boys, I can’t wait for a little girl time.”

She stood and glided down the steps. She held her arm out to you and you looped yours through it. “And may I just say,” you added, “I love your outfit.” She was wearing a light purple pantsuit with a skirt flaring out from the waist.

“Thank you so much, dear! I saw this dress the other day and it reminded me of you; you must try it.”

“Of course.” You and the Queen stayed in frequent contract, her sending you photos of cute outfits (she had sent you a picture of an adorable blouse last weekend) and updates of the boys (you were surprised she wasn’t the one to call you with the news of Lorenzo’s abdication) and you sent her memes and cute videos of pets you found on the Internet.

You were sure that if the princes or the Queen’s private secretary found out that you were constantly communicating, the former would be freaked out and shocked and the latter would be aghast. It was very un-queen-like to be texting pictures of baby ducks to a girl that was half her age. And what son wants their mother to be chatting with their friend?

Once you and the Queen left the throne room, you immediately asked, “how are things going? No one’s told me the whole story.”

Pascal sighed heavily, clearly burdened with things beyond her control. “I’ve seen it coming for a long time. Lorenzo has waged this battle for years within his mind, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.”

“I never knew him to be unhappy,” you said.

“That’s because no one ever saw him,” Pascale shrugged. “He was always hidden away, studying to be king. He never had a true childhood. Everything he did was scrutinised as people picked apart their future leader. He was only a child. He never wanted to let people down, but I believe the breaking point was last year when Hervé got terribly sick.”

You had heard about that. Arthur had called you in a frenzy, worrying himself into a spiral that you calmed him down from while you were miles away. Charles had called you much later that night and you two had engaged in quiet conversation about the affair.

“Lorenzo realised the full magnitude of the situation,” Pascale continued. “And he didn’t want it.” She simply stated the facts, knowing that Lorenzo was the only one who could explain the reasons behind his actions. “He called the whole family into the sitting room last night and informed us of his decision. It was released to the public this morning. Poor Fernando and Nico stayed up all night composing the perfect speech,” she said, referring to the palace communication advisors.

“And Charles?” you asked.

Pascale huffed and shook her head. “The boy is stupid,” she said bluntly. “He won’t take anyone’s advice and is pushing people away so he can cope on his own. That’s why Arthur brought you in.” She glanced at you, smirking slightly.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come off it, dearie.” Pascale rolled her eyes. “We both know my son has a sweet spot for you. Do you remember when you were eight and Charles was having a tantrum over the tiniest of thing? He wouldn’t come down for dinner, but when you went up to his room and talked to him, he came right down after you, trailing at your heels like a lost puppy?”

You shook your head and ignored the blush coming to your cheeks. The Queen didn’t miss it. “All I’m saying,” she declared as you reached your temporary room (which happened to be right next to Charles and Arthur’s), “is that although your Arthur’s best friend, my middle son has taken quite a liking to you over the years.” She turned on her heel, leaving you to your thoughts. Over her shoulder, Queen Pascale called to you, “food for thought,” before disappearing around a corner.

“Charles! Come on!” Arthur was swimming laps in the lake on a blazing summer day. You waded next to him, trying to get used to the colder water. Lorenzo was taking a break from his studies and lounging on an inflatable tube.

“I’m coming! Give me a second!” A thirteen year old Charles was still tugging off his socks. “Oh, I forgot my swimsuit!”

“Dude, how?” Lorenzo laughed. His sunglasses sat comfortably on his face as he relaxed. “We’re swimming. You need a swim-suit.”

“I don’t know, this was an impulse decision!” Charles was right; during breakfast you’d off-handedly proposed the idea and it was readily accepted.

“Just use your underwear.” Arthur shrugged.

“Oh my gosh look at this little crab!” You gasped and held up your hands. A small crab danced its way over your cupped hands.

Charles shook his head wildly. “No! I’m not going to strip down to my underwear!”

“Charlie,” you glanced at him before turning your attention back to the crab. “You would be showing the same amount of skin as if you had your swimsuit. It’s fine!”

“But,” he hesitated. “I don’t know, it just seems so much more intimate.”

“We’ve all seen each other naked,” Arthur pointed out.

“We were six years old!” Charles blushed furiously.

“Then leave your shirt on,” you said. “But come in the water. It wouldn’t be any fun with you staying on the shore.” After a second thought, you added, “Please, Charles?” You gave him a look you knew he couldn’t resist. You had the boys wrapped around your finger.

“Fine,” Charles smiled as your grin grew at his response. He could never stand to see you sad, especially if it was his doing. “But when we get out, I am stealing an extra towel.”

When the four of you were finished swimming, Charles stole Arthur’s towel and the latter dripped water all over the castle carpets. The cleaning crew was not happy.

“Hey, Charles?” You knocked on his door softly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he replied. You opened the door to see him slouched in a chair before his desk. It was littered with papers and textbooks. Charles looked more tired than ever and you were worried that he hadn’t slept last night. Granted, you couldn’t chastise him for it. You were up worrying as well.

“What’re you doing?” You came to stand behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, peering at the documents splayed before him.

Charles leaned into your touch, his heart fluttering. He had missed you so much. He wasn’t about to derive himself of your comfort. “I’ve been trying to catch up on the years of studying Lorenzo had. Turns out there’s books on foreign policy and economics he had decades to read. I only have a couple months.”

“What about your father?” you asked, “He’s doing well, no?”

Charles tilted his head back to look at you and lifted a brow. “Come on, Y/n. You’re not naive. Maman knows she’ll have to plan his funeral soon. I only thought I would be watching my brother pledge himself to Monaco- not me.”

“I’m so sorry.” You hugged him the best you could in your position. “I know that I can’t help you much, but I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“That’s all I ever need.” Charles was worried you hadn’t heard him when you sat down next to him and pulled the books towards you, intent on helping him in any way you could. He knew that with his eventual coronation (god, that was a terrifying thing to think about. How did Lorenzo ever keep his cool?) the kingdom would pressure him to find a wife and carry on the Leclerc bloodline. He wasn’t forced to marry someone with status, just so long as the person could handle the public eye and the inevitable scrutiny. He wanted to form a connection with the woman and have the most normal relationship he possibly could.

“Why do you have to learn how to start a revolution?” You flipped through one of the textbook pages. “Wouldn’t you need to know how to quell one? This is so confusing.” You slam the book shut, bored after only three seconds. How could Charles have stayed up all night doing this? “Okay, what is something productive, yet fun?”

“Do you want to listen to a meeting about military strategies?” Charles suggested. “Dad wants me to start sitting in on meetings of state to make up for the lost years.”

“No,” was your immediate reply. “As much as I love you, Charles, that sounds like the most boring thing in the world.”

“It’s what I’ll be doing the rest of my life,” Charles grumbled.

“And Arthur and I will be with you every step of the way.” You baulked at the lifelong oath you had just promised. But you couldn’t take your words back now. Charles needed you to be his rock, and what good were you if you yourself were slipping under the tide? While Charles was drowning in the sea of uncertainty and pressure, you were drowning in the sea of hopelessness and love. “Do you feel bitter about it?” you asked quietly, wanting to change the subject but also know the truth. “Do you resent Lorenzo for what he did?”

“I want to,” Charles admitted. “I want to force him to take the crown back. I want him to get his ass back here and sit on the throne. I want to hate him. But I can’t. Because I get it. I understand what he’s feeling. He was already under the dissection of the press and public. Now it’s ten-fold. He didn’t do it to get away from the public eye, because let’s be honest, none of us will ever be able to truly escape. He’s doing it to be his own person. Lorenzo is taking the chance I wish I had.” He chuckled sourly, “Lucky bastard.”

“And I know you giving the throne to Arthur is out of the question,” you said.

“Of course,” Charles nodded along solemnly. “I would never do that.”

“Lorenzo did,” you whispered, giving him the tiniest of shrugs and smiles.

He shook his head. “No, it’s out of the question, Y/n.”

“I know.” You never wanted any of this for any of the Leclerc boys. They were too innocent and sweet to be criticised at any turn. “What are you going to do?”

For as long as you had known him, Charles had never looked so scared. “My best.”

The dining room was filled with the quiet scraps of silverware on china. It was almost quiet enough that you could hear reporters shouting from outside. Luckily the castle walls were strong enough to block them out. It had been an awkwardly stressful dinner, each second passing adding to the seconds it was already too late to say something. King Hervé and Queen Pascale sat at the head with Lorenzo and Charles to their right. You and Arthur sat across from the older boys. Rows of empty seats followed after you. You remembered when you and your family were invited for dinner along with other military personalities. The long table was filled with chatter and buzz, the King and Queen looking lovingly down at their employees and subjects. You always sat by Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, laughing away at whatever stupid joke was being said.

It was a stark contrast to what you were experiencing now.

You had expected some hostility radiating from either Charles or Lorenzo, but both were filled only with sadness. Arthur, always needing to be on the move, was tapping his foot up and down and up and down and up and down until you shot him a look. Queen Pascale was looking lonely and King Hervé sat blissfully unaware of the matters around him.

You were just about to excuse yourself when the King set his knife and fork down and stood. “Y/n, sweetheart, can you come help me?”

Your eyes dashed towards Pascale to make sure you weren’t the only one who heard him. Pascale was confused, but ushered you to his side. You obeyed, standing quickly and going to support him.

“Come along,” he led you out of the room and to a short hallway. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said.

“Can you look after Charles?”

The King’s question shocked you. “Of course, your Majesty.”

“No, Y/n.” The King stopped and faced you, looking you in the eye. You immediately looked to the ground, then to the wall behind him and finally back to him, all while mustering up the courage to meet his headstrong gaze. You felt exposed as the monarch of your country stared you down. “Take care of him, just as he takes care of you. You and Arthur are brilliant friends, but we both know your relationship with Charles is deeper than friendship.”

“Your Majesty,” you cut him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My relationship with Charles is the same as my relationship with Arthur.”

“If you believe that, dear, then you may need to do some soul searching.” The King had an odd twinkle in his eye, one that could only be held by a person who had learned the lessons of the world. “I’m asking you for this favour. I don’t have a long time left on this Earth. I need to know my son’s in good hands. With this power and expectations unexpectedly thrust upon him, he’ll need someone he can come to with his worries and troubles. Someone he can be himself around. You were always that person.”

“King Hervé, I’ll try my best, but eventually we’ll need to go our separate ways,” you said, trying to gently show the king the inevitable truth. “I want to continue school and Charles will have to get married. His wife will take on the responsibilities of his confidant.” You didn’t add that you would be leaving Monaco the moment Charles showed romantic interest in someone.

The King hummed and started walking once again. You led him to a wooden door that entered his chambers. “The Queen of Monaco would get excellent schooling,” King Hervé offhandedly commented before opening his door and leaving you alone in the hallway.

You stood there, stunned. In two days, both monarchs of Monaco had pushed you into the arms of their middle child.

King Hervé couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. Could he?

“What did dad talk to you about, Y/n?” Arthur found you in the gardens. You were wandering aimlessly and ended up at the weeping willow that was cemented in so many of your memories.

“He asked me to look after Charles.” You sat down, legs folding under you like a stack of cards. Arthur plopped down next to you.

“Well, that’s easy, right? Just stick around a while more and he’ll be fine. Your job is literally to give him hugs.” Arthur laughed.

“Arthur, does Charles like me?” You asked suddenly, twisting your body to look at the boy. He sat back on his hands, getting comfortable under the cool summer air.

“What do you mean? You're his best friend. Other than me, of course,” he grinned at his last words. “And Lorenzo. So you’re maybe third or fourth on the list. After the dog. You’re definitely after the dog.”

You slugged him in the arm, matching his smirk, saying, “but seriously though, both your mum and dad hinted that Charles liked me. In a… more than friendship way.” You felt as if you were back in primary school by using that phrase.

Arthur sighed heavily, “oh god, Y/n.” He scratched his neck. “This isn’t my confession to make.”

“So he does like me?!” you cried out.

“But you like him back, right?” Arthur shrugged. “It was so obvious. Our entire childhood, you and him were always stuck together. You and I hung out too, but he was always the one you ran to when you were hurt or sad. I was the third-wheel and Lorenzo, when he had time, was the fourth. Wait-” he paused, realising his analogy didn’t work out. “You and I hung out at night, but I’m confident that if Charles was up at the same time, you would’ve roped him into our adventures. There was this… connection that neither Lorenzo or I could achieve with you. A small part of you was only for him and vise-versa. You should’ve heard the things he said about you when you were gone. It was always, ‘when’s Y/n coming back?’ and ‘I miss Y/n’. Honestly, it was annoying.” He shot you an exaggerated side-eye. You chuckled quietly, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’m not jealous. You and I had many special memories without my ugly older brother. Remember that one time where in the middle of night we went bowling and practically woke up the entire castle?!”

You joined him in laughing hysterically. You remembered, “my parents were so mad!”

“But my dad insisted we finish the round,” Arthur added on. “And then everyone else started playing as well.”

“That was a good night,” you agreed.

“My point,” Arthur brought you back to the topic at hand. “Is that you and Charles like each other and if I’m the one to make you realise your feelings, then that’s a problem. My parents clearly picked up on it and are now making sure that you and Charles get together before they’re gone.”

You sat in thought for a moment before saying, “I never asked how you and Carla are doing.”

The boy smiled lazily. “It’s going really well. She’s really sweet and cares about others. You’ll love her.”

“I’m sure I will.” You nudged your arm with his. “Any girl that can put up with you is worth keeping.”

“Piss off! I have half a mind to throw you in the lake!”

“Don’t you dare, Leclerc. I swear to god I will murder you.”

“That’s an act of treason.”

“Charles can pardon me.”

“I’m sure he will.” Arthur rolled his eyes, “I’m sure he will.”

Three teenage princes barged into your room without so much as a knock. “Oh my god!” you cried, “What are you guys doing?!” You were laying on your bed with your computer which continued playing Rise of the Guardians. Jack Frost had just been kidnapped by the Easter Bunny.

“Where have you been?” Arthur jumped on the bed with you and yanked the covers over him. You growled and yanked them back. “Geez,” he muttered, squirming around to get comfortable. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“The blood currently exiting my body,” you retorted.

“Ew!” Arthur jumped back and off the bed, a shiver going up his spine. “You could’ve told me that before!”

“It’s not fucking contagious,” you said. “Unless you suddenly grew a uterus I didn’t know about.” Lorenzo laughed at your response. “What are you pricks doing here?”

“We were going to go horseback riding,” Charles explained. “We wanted to ask you to join us, but now that’s out of the question.”

“Oh. Well, you guys go without me,” you said. “Give Loki a sugarcube for me, will you?” When you were kids, the four of you had all named your horses together. Lorenzo's horse was Stark, Arthur called his Wanda, and you and Charles decided on the names Thor and Loki.

“But you’re not feeling well!” Charles protested, his brows furrowing. You shifted in your bed as a wave of cramps came over you.

“I’ve done this a lot. I’ll be fine.”

“Move over,” Charles sighed and climbed into your bed. He threw off his shoes and sweater, leaving him in an undershirt and sweatpants before pulling the covers towards him. He leaned back on your pillows and slung an arm over your shoulders.

“What’re you watching?” Lorenzo asked, sitting on your other side with his legs crossed.

“Rise of the Guardians,” you replied.

“With Sandy?” Arthur shoved Lorenzo over and cuddled into the spot next to you. You pushed the computer away so they could see easier.

Pressing play, you said, “Yeah, with Sandy. What other Rise of the Guardians do you know of?”

The movie continued and both you and Arthur cried during Sandy’s death. Whenever your cramps were acting up or your back hurt, you would fist Charles’ shirt in your hand and try to snuggle closer to him. Charles frequently drew circles on your arm or pressed a kiss to your hair.

Lorenzo and Arthur exchanged a look. How could you two be so dumb?

The field looked an awful lot like the one in the castle gardens. Some flowers wilted under the harsh sun and you made a mental note to tell Lando about it. He would be devastated to lose a plant.

It was a serene day, but you were forgetting something. You couldn’t remember what. It gnawed at you like it was at the tip of your tongue and wanted to burst out, but something was blocking it.

Suddenly, the ground caved out from under you and you started falling. You cried out for someone- anyone to come and save you.

You braced for the end. For the inevitable crushing end that would end in writhing pain or the quickness of death. Which would be better?

Just as suddenly as you fell, you woke up. It was just a dream, you kept reminding yourself as you hurried out of the now scarred room.

You didn’t want to see if Arthur was awake. If he was, you would prompt him to go to sleep. He needed it.

You weaved through the castle before stopping at a familiar painting. It used to be your favourite as a kid. A Huguenot, as it was titled. The full name was A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew's Day, Refusing to Shield Himself from Danger by Wearing the Roman Catholic Badge painted by John Everett Millais.

You had learned about it from your art history tutor. The Leclerc boys didn’t care for the class, but you found it oddly fascinating. When you had learned about the Huguenot it instantly captured your attention.

You remembered your tutor saying, “The painting depicts an incident occurring on St. Bartholomew’s Day, when a massacre of Protestants by Catholics took place in Paris during the Wars of Religion. The white band the woman is attempting to tie around her lover's arm was an act to shield him from harm during the coming massacre and an identifier of Roman Catholicism. A small number of Protestants escaped from the city by wearing the white armbands.

“The young man gently pulls the armband off with the same hand with which he embraces the girl. Having to choose between religion and love, the man’s refusal of this badge would result in certain death,” the tutor concluded.

You had always loved the painting, feeling a sense of desperate longing from it.

“Y/n?” A hushed voice called to you. Charles walked up to you, still in his sleepwear. He paused and looked up at the painting. “Your favourite, huh?”

“Yeah. What’re you doing up?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” the boy brushed it off. “Are you still having those nightmares?”

“How do you know about that?” You were pretty sure you’d only told Arthur about those.

“I found you and Arthur one morning sleeping under a pool table. When I asked him about it he said you kept having nightmares and he was trying to help.”

“Ah,” you cracked a smile. “Yeah, they haven’t gone away.”

“Truth be told,” Charles was still admiring the painting. “I always envied you and Arthur. In the morning, Lorenzo and I would wake to some new inside joke that had transpired the previous night. I wanted to feel that close to you as well. I would try to stay awake all night so I could be part of the adventures, but I always fell asleep.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Charlie,” You gushed at his confession, leaning against him. “You and I will always be close. You don’t have to be sleep deprived for that. Arthur and I’s relationship was a purely platonic thing built on laughter and escapade. Ours was built on trust and caring. Not to mention all the mischief we got ourselves into.”

Charles laughed loudly at your words. “We once rigged the intercom to play polka music all day and night!”

“The nannies were so mad!” You snickered at the memory.

Charles hummed and fixed his sight on the painting once more. “The man is going to fight for his religion, right?”

“You remember?” You were surprised he was able to recollect the knowledge.

“Of course!” Charles smiled widely and his voice raised a couple notes. “You blabbered about it whenever we passed it in the hall. You always had to stop and stare. Why wouldn’t I remember something so important to you?”

A warm feeling rose up in your chest. “Come on, Charlie,” You looped your arm through his and directed him away. “Let’s go watch Megamind.”

“Okay, chérie,” Charles squeezed you in a side-hug. “But I want popcorn.”

“Stove-made?”

“Is there another kind?”

King Hervé and Queen Pascale walked into the family room the next morning to find you splayed over Charles on the couch. Charles was drowsily awake and waved to his parents in a morning greeting. His other hand was lazily stroking your arm.

“I’m going to give him my wedding ring tomorrow,” Pascale whispered to her husband.

King Hervé died a week later.

You woke to a sharp knocking. A housekeeper entered and said, “Miss. Y/n, I regret to inform you that King Hervé passed away last night in his sleep.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“King Hervé has died. Queen Pascale is requesting your presence in the sitting room.”

Your first instinct was to ask, “how are the princes?”

“I’m not sure,” the housekeeper admitted. “Do you need assistance getting dressed?”

“No, but thank you.” You jumped out of bed and hurried to the sitting room. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hervé was dead. He died. You were never going to see him again. What happened now?

You picked up the pace and soon you were running down the castle halls, still in your pyjamas. Servants in black clothing stopped as you dashed by, some even bowing at the waist. You burst into the sitting room to see the Leclercs there. Arthur was slumped on the couch, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked up when you came in and the tears started to fall. Lorenzo was standing by the window watching the people below already beginning to lay flowers for his father. A withered Pascale sat in a plush armchair, fingers to her lips as she hummed a sad tune. Her face was devoid of any emotion and her eyes were dry. And Charles sat hunched over, elbows to his knees as he stared a burning hole into the wall opposite him. His hands were clasped together and you could see the large ring with the royal insignia emblazoned on it.

You slowly knelt in front of Pascale. “My Queen,” you murmured. “My deepest condolences. I know words may never be enough and they can never bring back what’s missing, but he was a wonderful man and a wonderful king. All of Monaco will miss him.”

The Queen began to cry. “Thank you, Y/n, but I’ll be alright. He’s in the hands of God and I know he’s safe and happy. I just miss him is all.”

“It would be wrong if you didn’t,” you tried to alleviate the pain in any way you knew how, but you knew it wouldn’t help. When your own parents had passed, you had stayed in your room for days, a blank-eyed zombie of the person you used to be. It was only when your brother came in to see you that you broke down crying. Charles and Lorenzo had held your hands during the funeral.

You then hugged Lorenzo tightly. He let out a shuddering sigh at your embrace. You always knew the pressure on him was high, but it was as if he was finally releasing it. You knew that he would be okay eventually.

And finally, you sat in between Arthur and Charles. “Come here,” you whispered to the former who fell onto your shoulder, crying quietly.

“Is this how it feels?” The youngest Leclerc brother asked you in a voice so unlike his own. “Is this how it feels to lose someone you love? Why does anyone love when it hurts so much?”

“I don’t know, Artie.” The childhood nickname slipped past your lips. “I don’t know.”

Charles let out a shuddering breath and Arthur pulled away from you, nodding his head at you to comfort Charles. “Mon bonheur,” you wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

That’s when Charles let out a broken sob and curled himself into your lap. He buried himself into you, tears soaking through your nightwear. He sounded like a crushed man, his cries turning to a need for love. “Papa,” his voice broke. “Why does everyone have to leave?”

“No one is leaving you, mon bonheur,” you reassured him.

“Yes, they are!” he protested, “Papa left all of us and now you’ll leave too and I… I can’t let that happen.”

“I’m not leaving you.” You couldn’t help but smile sadly. “Artie’s been helping me think it through and I’m going to move back to Monaco. I’ve missed you guys too much to leave again.”

“Really?” Charles sounded like a lonely child.

“Really,” you confirmed it with a nod of your head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, as will your family because we love you.” You rested your cheek on his hair. “It’ll all be alright. This is the hardest part of it all.” All the Leclerc’s were listening in, hoping for some way to cope with the loss of their husband and father. “But it’ll get easier. One day you’ll wake up and not think about him at all. Then you’ll go to bed and realise it and feel bad, because you think you need to remember him everyday to honour him and all the happy times together. But then someone makes you laugh and you feel back to your old self for a second. Then you’ll realise it’s what he would want. He would want you to laugh and love and live. Just because someone is gone doesn’t mean you can stop living. Every once in a while you’ll see something that will remind you of him and you’ll think of a good time together. Everything will turn a shade of melancholy for a while, but you’ll see your family and they’ll lift you up again. No one leaves you. And the reason why it hurts so much, Artie,” you direct your words to him, “is because you loved him. To be human is to love and to lose. And it’s terrible. And we hate it. Losing someone is an awful thing to go through and there’s nothing that anyone can do or say that will make the pain go away. But you still have each other,” you shrug. “That seems like a pretty sweet deal.”

“You were always the best at pep talks,” Lorenzo huffs a small laugh. “Could always make me feel better after a hard day.”

“We should employ you as our personal pep-talker,” Arthur added, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“How much would I get paid?” you retorted, trying to bring humour to the situation.

“As much as you need to keep you here.” Charles immersed himself in you. He loved the way you smelled, the way your skin sent shivers up his, the way your heart beated, and everything else about you.

“Come along, boys,” Pascale stood up suddenly. “There’s a lot that needs to be done.”

The next days were a blur. You hardly remembered any of it. Pascale was in charge of planning Hervé’s funeral, and when it got too overwhelming, Arthur took over. Your hours were filled with planning the coronation. Luckily, most of it was protocol and out of your control, but swabs of fabric and long guest lists were still shoved your way. Mercifully, Lorenzo assisted you with the intricate monarchy procedures. Charles was off doing who knows what and who knows where. Some nights you would peek into his room and find him sprawled out on the bed, snoring softly. You would ease his shoes off his feet and carefully loosen his tie before sneaking out of the room.

Overnight, it was as if the castle had transformed. The flags were all drawn at half-mast, yards of black fabric covered the windows, and everyday at noon, the bells would toll endlessly.

You weren’t allowed to walk with the royal family at the procession, but instead with the long lines of servants that came after the guards and knights. Crowds gathered in the streets to watch their beloved king parade pass in a suffocating, but ethereal and eternal coffin. You wanted to cover your ears as bells rang and rang and rang as the procession went on.

During the funeral, Arthur brought you up to the front so you could take your rightful place among the family. Charles instantly gripped your hand.

This wasn’t like your parents funeral, both of whom had died in combat when a stray bomb had blown their lives away. They were buried in a small military cemetery on the outskirts of Monaco where you were handed two Monégasque flags as the next-of-kin. That’s what had broken you on that day, being reminded of how your parents died. Of course, the press didn’t care, hounding after their next story of Monaco Royal Family Seen at Random Funeral or We Invade Someone’s Mourning Time to Get Pictures of our Monarchs or New Girlfriend to a Monégasque Prince Because They Were Seen Holding Hands at a Sad Event? Lorenzo and Charles had given the press a good talking-to.

King Hervé’s funeral was in a grand church where he would be buried in a stone mausoleum after the traditional prayers. Queen Pascale laid a red carnation on his coffin before it was lowered into the hauntingly beautiful mausoleum.

Charles let out a low sigh and when you glanced over you saw him crying silently. You knew no words could help him at that moment. It was as if you could feel the sadness radiating off of him. You would take it all away if you could. Anything to help him.

Charles had the same thought during your parents’ funeral.

His coronation was three days later. Arthur had found a loophole in the ceremony and instead of sending you an invitation, wrote you down as his plus-one, therefore earning you a seat in the front row. You had puzzled over what to wear that day, finally settling on a red gown for the colours of Monaco. Arthur and you entered behind Lorenzo and Pascale as the Monégasque anthem played.

“Oh my gosh,” Arthur muttered to you. “So many stuffy people in stuffy clothes.”

You shushed him, “quiet!” Arthur gave you his signature side-eye and you wanted to burst out laughing. You tried to hold it in but a snicker got past you. Arthur let out a giggle at that. Pascale held a finger to her lips, hiding a smile of her own.

The priest marched down the aisle and as he reached the altar, the organ stopped playing. A choir started singing, everybody stood, and Charles entered the church.

You almost stopped breathing.

You had never seen him look so regal. Charles was adorned by the coronation robes and crown jewels. His hair was styled to perfection and his shoes shined so brightly you could see your reflection in them. He was celestial.

“Close your mouth,” Arthur bent over and whispered to you. “You’ll catch flies.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

“Swearing in a house of God?” Arthur hissed. “Heinous.”

As Charles passed, people bowed. When Charles glided by the first row, Lorenzo and Arthur bent at the waist while you curtsied deeply. Pascale stayed upright but placed a hand over her heart. Charles climbed the steps and knelt before the priest.

The priest gave a long speech and you could practically feel Charles’ irritation rolling off of him in waves. His knees must be hurting by now. Finally, he was to recite his vows.

“Is your Majesty willing to take Oath?” the priest asked.

“I am willing,” Charles’ voice reverberated through the hall. Something stirred in your chest. You knew he was telling the truth.

The priest outstretched the royal sceptre towards Charles. “Will you accept the responsibilities as king for as long as you shall live?”

“I do,” Charles gripped the sceptre and held the cool metal in his palm.

“Will you solemnly swear to govern the people of Monaco and promise to execute Law, Justice, and Mercy in all your judgements?”

“I swear,” Charles repeated.

“Will you to the utmost of your power,” the priest declared, “maintain the Laws of God and its true profession? Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Monaco? Will you preserve all such rights and privileges of the people of Monaco, as by law do or shall appertain to them?”

“I do swear by all.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power hold true peace under your rule?”

“I will,”

“And you,” the priest raised his arms and addressed the church. “The people and subjects of Monaco, all who so desire, say together: ‘I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.’”

People all over Monaco joined together to say, “I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs,” Arthur nudged your arm at that and you pinched him. “And successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.” Charles bowed his head as he listened to his people.

“Do the people of Monaco accept Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc to be crowned as their king?”

“We do,”

“Will the princes and heirs of Monaco please join us at the altar?” Lorenzo and Arthur stepped out into the church aisle and Charles stood and turned around. His robe curled around his feet and the spectre gleamed in the stained glass light. He caught your eye right away and you sent him a wink, lips curling into a smile. The new King of Monaco blushed and glanced at his feet. Pascale beamed at the exchange.

“Please kneel at the feet of your King,” the priest asked of the Leclerc boys. They did as they were told. Charles outstretched his hand which wore the royal ring. “Do you swear to aid your King in any way possible? Do you swear, in case of harm, to assume the position of monarch of Monaco until your King is married in law and love?” Charles’ swallowed and his stare remained firmly on the ground.

“We swear.” They both took turns grasping Charles’ hand and gently placing a kiss on the ring.

“You may return to your seats,” the priest allowed.

Arthur stood back next to you and said, “My mouth tastes like metal.”

“Sucks to be you.”

The priest concluded, “Let us rejoice in our new sovereign king of Monaco as he pledges to serve and protect us all.” The priest turned and lifted the Crown of Monaco from an altarboy. “Let Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc be crowned as the King of Monaco.” And he placed the Monégasque royal crown on Charles’ head.

Charles embraced the thunderous applause of his people. A swelling pride erupted in your chest. You had never been so elated.

“Then let this joyous day be celebrated across the land in the eyes of God,” the priest called out loudly and Charles stepped down the altar stairs and into the role of King.

“Where’s Lorenzo?”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“You don’t think…”

“Oh, I know! I saw him going off with a daughter of a duke a couple minutes ago.”

“Ew!” You groaned, shaking your head furiously, knowing the next time you saw Lorenzo, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

“What do you expect?” Charles whispered in your ear, body pressed up against yours. “This is Arthur’s seventeenth birthday. We’re all legal now.”

“And are you going to exploit your legality?” You smirked, tilting up to look at him.

Charles hummed lowly and you could feel the vibration in his chest. “Maybe. Are you?”

You thought about your next words. You were sure he could feel your heart; it was banging like a drum, erupting with butterflies, and fluttering with worries. If you responded with a nod, where could it take you? If you shook your head, would you spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been?

And did you want this?

Did you want Charles?

… Did you even like Charles?

Charles picked up on your hesitancy and said quietly, “there’s absolutely no pressure, but I want you to know that my room is always open to you.” You glanced at him, noting the double entendre, before letting your eyes rest comfortably back on his chest. It was emblazoned with medals and sashes, akin to his brothers.

You gave him a single nod- one that only he could see. A secret between the two of you. In response, Charles pressed a kiss to your forehead.

That night, you paced outside his room for quite some time. Fear eventually overcame you and you hurried back to your room. You couldn’t go in. Charles sat awake, waiting all night with the hope that you would come to him.

The next weekend you left for college. You didn’t see him again until Lorenzo’s abdication, but it was as you never left.

“May I have this dance?” You turned to see Charles standing behind you, smiling cockily. He had changed out of his robe for a much more modern black tuxedo, paired with a red pocket square.

“Of course, my King.” Charles’ eyes darkened at your response and he raised a brow. “But are you sure you want your first dance to be with me?”

“Who else would I dance with?” Charles wondered. “I’ve already danced with my mother. I want the next to be with you.”

You let the king sweep you out onto the dance floor, letting the years of training take hold of you. Effortlessly, the two of you were able to float along and keep up conversation.

You asked, “how do you feel?”

Charles shrugged. “No different from when I woke up. Must I say, you are looking radiant today.”

You dipped your head to hide your smile. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up.”

Charles hummed, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, he said, “it was just procedure, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?” Charles spun you around in a small circle before bringing you back to him.

“They still have that stupid line in the coronation vows. ‘Pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors.’” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if I have heirs or not. They still have Arthur as next in line.”

You frowned. “I thought you wanted a family?”

“I do,” Charles stopped dancing. Your hand rested on his shoulder and his gripped your waist. Your other hands were entwined intimately. If he could, Charles would stay like this forever. No one else; just you and him. That’s all he ever needed. “I think I’ve made that clear.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You wanted to step away from him. You needed to put some distance between the two of you, but you couldn’t. You could never leave him. It was like a magnetic force connected the two of you. No matter how long you were apart, you would always end up back in each other's arms.

“Fear,” Charles admitted. “I couldn’t handle rejection. It would break me. All my life I’ve known it’s her. Somewhere deep inside of me could tell. I can’t be away from her. I need to see her and make sure she’s safe. I need to hold her and love her. Whenever we’re apart it tears me up inside. If she were ever to refuse me I don’t know how I would go on. She’s my other half. My lasting pair. Ma chérie.”

People were stopping and staring at the King and you. Lorenzo poked at his mother who stifled a gasp.

Arthur asked, “why aren’t they dancing?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenzo sounded panicked. “The press are going to have a field day.”

“Don’t you boys see?” Pascale was grinning. “They’re in love and finally realising it. Who cares about the press? This is about them.”

“You were always one for romance, mama,” Arthur said.

“Charlie,” you said. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Charles beamed and did as he was told. You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other settled on the small of your back, wanting you closer still. It was a tender kiss, and long overdue. It was like kissing was created just for the two of you; just so you could experience each other. If deities were real, you were sure Aphrodite had smiled down from the heavens and chosen you and Charles.

When you broke apart and the cameras continued flashing, Charles said, “ma chérie, I cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for that.”

“I hope you weren’t disappointed?”

“With you? Never.”

It was a quiet morning. You had woken up a few minutes ago but decided to stay in your husband’s warm embrace. Charles’ arm was wrapped tightly around your torso and you could feel his breath on your bare shoulder.

Charles shifted softly and groaned, “good morning.” You would never get used to his morning voice.

“I’ll never get used to your morning voice.” You rolled over to greet him. Charles smiled lazily and stroked your cheek lovingly.

“Hello my beautiful Queen.”

“Hello my handsome King. Did you sleep well?”

“With what little sleep I got, I slept wonderfully.” He winked, referring to last night’s activities.

“What do you have planned for today?” you asked while reaching for his hand. Charles gladly gave it to you and interlaced your fingers.

“Just a couple of meetings with the Board. Then I’ll have the rest of the day to spend with you and Liza.”

“That’s nice. She’s been wanting to show you her new tricks on Danvers.” You referred to your daughter’s horse.

“She’s going to surpass me someday.” Charles jokingly shook his head.

“Hate to break it to you, but she already has, old man,” you teased.

Charles gaped at your words. “Old man?! If that’s true, then you’re calling yourself an old woman.”

“I’m not an old woman,” you explained. “I just married an old man. I’m in it for the money.”

Charles laughed loudly. “Well, I hope you’re happy with your old man, ma chérie, because he’s not ever letting you go.”

“I’m very happy with him.” You grinned and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Before Charles could chase after you with the complaint of wanting a real kiss, the door to your bedroom banged open.

“Maman! Papa!” A little voice called out.

“Is everyone decent?” Arthur yelled out from around the corner. He stuck his head in the room, eyes firmly closed. “‘Cause I still have the last image burned into my retinas.”

“You only saw my butt!” Charles scoffed.

“It was plenty,” Arthur drew out the last word. He shuddered from the memory.

Eliza jumped on the bed and into Charles’ arms. “Uncle Artie and Grammy are gonna take me to London!”

“What?” You sat up and quickly grabbed Charles’ discared shirt that still lay on the floor from last night. Buttoning it up, you demanded, “Arthur, come here.”

Arthur’s face morphed into one of fear. “Mama was the one that suggested it!” he defended, “and Liza promised not to tell.”

“That’s worse,” you pointed out.

“Do you have to work today, Papa?” Liza asked Charles.

“Only a little in the morning,” Charles said, settling her on his lap. “Then I’m all yours in the afternoon.”

“Can we go swimming?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,”

“And horseback riding?”

“Of course,”

“And can we have a tea party with Grammy and Daniel?” Liza gasped, thinking only of her grandma and favourite castle guard. Their connection had begun early on when you found Daniel playing with Eliza one evening. You had apologised profusely, but he simply scooped her up and promised it was no big deal. They had become quick friends.

“Only if there’s donuts,” Charles bargained.

“Only if we can have it in your room under the painting.” She pointed to A Huguenot which had presided over your room ever since you moved in with Charles.

Charles thought for a moment before sticking his hand out. “Deal.” He and his daughter shook hands.

“Liza?” You kissed her forehead and asked her, “why don’t you go play with Uncle Artie for a while until your Daddy and I can join you for breakfast?”

“Okay!” The girl happily jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.

Arthur scampered after and yelled out in warning, “I better not hear any other cries for ‘Daddy!’”

You rolled your eyes while Charles restrained from cursing at his brother for fear of his daughter hearing him. You leaned back into Charles’ chest and he laid his head on yours. After a moment, he whispered, “you’ve been sleeping through the night.”

“I have been.” You nodded. “I think I’ve had the perfect person to help me fall asleep.”

“Or maybe you’re just too tired after each night.” Charles started kissing your neck, slowly starting to suck a hickey.

You let out a soft moan and clutched his hand. “Charlie,” you murmured through gritted teeth. “Liza’s expecting us.”

“She can wait.” Charles laid you down softly on the sheets. “I love you, ma chérie.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you too, mon bonheur.”

People in the F1 world I wanna be friends with but am too scared to message: @leclsrc @hey-kae @vinvantae @schuvries

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

the royal resemblance ! esteban o. x ofc (british princess!ofc)

summary: albertine (spencer) ocon lived to give her estranged family a heart attack by simply existing and giving birth to a daughter who looked so much like her... and her mother.

OR the youngest royal and the alpine driver had finally set their boundaries when it came to the british royal press as a way to maintain the privacy that they had managed to preserve throughout their years of relationship and marriage.

content warning: use of explicit language, princess ofc with a lack of princess manner (aka being more upfront), dad!estie x mom!ofc, fluff?? fictional news articles + posts

note: i need to post this otherwise my storage will continue to be full as hell 🤡

masterlist

THE FAST LANE DAILY

PRINCESS ALBERTINE MAKES GRAND ENTRANCE AT STATE BANQUET, WEARING DIANA-INSPIRED ATTIRE

london, uk - in a stunning display of elegance and style, princess albertine, the youngest daughter of king charles iii, attended the highly anticipated state banquet alongside her husband, french formula one alpine driver esteban ocon. the event marked the first time the couple appeared together as a married couple, capturing the attention of the media and royal enthusiasts alike.

princess albertine, born in 1996, has had a unique journey within the royal family. her custody was passed to her maternal grandmother and eventually to her uncle, leading her to distance herself from her royal title. instead, she chose to use the surname spencer, a nod to her mother's family. however, after tying the knot with ocon, she decided to adopt his surname, solidifying their union.

the british media had been eagerly awaiting a glimpse into the couple's private life, but it was not until three months after their wedding that princess albertine and ocon officially announced their marriage. this secrecy only added to the intrigue surrounding their relationship.

princess albertine had previously declined offers to attend the state banquet on two occasions. however, with the assurance that her brother, prince harry, would also be in attendance, she finally accepted the invitation, making her presence known in a truly unforgettable manner.

stepping into the grand hall, princess albertine made a striking entrance, wearing a dress reminiscent of her late mother, princess diana's iconic style. her haircut, bearing a striking resemblance to diana's, caused a stir among attendees, including her father, king charles iii, and her brother, prince william, the prince of wales.

to complete her regal ensemble, princess albertine donned a breathtaking aquamarine tiara, drawing attention away from the working royals, including queen camilla. the tiara, a personal collection piece, was a gift from dodi fayed's father, who maintained a connection with albertine despite the tragic loss of both her mother and his son. complementing the tiara, she wore a set of aquamarine jewelry, including a wedding band that matched ocon's, which held sentimental value as an heirloom from diana.

the couple's appearance at the state banquet as a married couple was met with great excitement and speculation. many believe that such a rare occurrence would not have taken place had prince harry not been in attendance as well. the presence of both siblings added an air of unity and significance to the event, captivating the attention of all those present.

as princess albertine and ocon gracefully mingled with dignitaries and fellow guests, their radiant presence and homage to princess diana's legacy left a lasting impression. their appearance at the state banquet not only showcased their love and commitment but also hinted at a new chapter in the royal family's history, one that embraces change and celebrates individuality.

with their enchanting presence, princess albertine and ocon have undoubtedly left an indelible mark on the hearts of the british public, reigniting the fascination and admiration for the royal family.

THE FAST LANE DAILY

PRINCESS ALBERTINE AND ROYAL FAMILY'S PLAN FOR LIMITED NEWS COVERAGE

in a surprising turn of events, princess albertine, a member of the british royal family has expressed her lack of connection to her father, king charles iii, and her desire to lead a normal life away from the public eye. despite her lack of close relationships within the royal family, the palace has announced plans to provide limited news coverage about her and her family.

princess albertine's custody was passed to her maternal grandmother following the tragic death of her mother, diana spencer, in paris in 1997. at just one year old, she was separated from her father, resulting in a distant relationship with the royal family. her only remaining connection, prince harry, has also distanced himself from the family.

recently, princess albertine made headlines for her portrayal of her late mother, princess diana, in the popular television series, the crown. the palace remained tight-lipped about the news, while insiders expressed disappointment over the portrayal, hinting at the royal family's disapproval.

despite her strained relationship with her father, princess albertine has managed to retain her royal title, thanks to a strategic divorce between her parents shortly after her birth. this decision ensured the preservation of her legitimacy and her connection to charles' bloodline.

in a surprising twist, princess albertine secretly tied the knot with esteban ocon, a formula one driver. the couple managed to keep their marriage under wraps for three months, evading the prying eyes of the british media. this unexpected union further solidified princess albertine's desire for privacy and independence.

expressing her desire to distance herself from her family's public relations agenda, princess albertine has made it clear that she wants no involvement with the royal family. while the palace has agreed to respect her wishes, they have also stated that certain announcements will be made on her behalf. however, they have emphasized that no further details will be provided, allowing princess albertine the opportunity to discuss these matters herself.

princess albertine and her husband, esteban ocon, are not pleased with this arrangement but reluctantly agreed to the clause in order to appease the royal family. it is evident that they wish to maintain control over their own lives and decisions, free from the constraints of the palace's public relations machinery.

as princess albertine and esteban ocon navigate their newfound marriage and life together, it remains to be seen how they will handle the delicate balance between their desire for privacy and the royal family's need for limited news coverage. the world eagerly awaits any further developments from this intriguing royal couple.

THE BUCKINGHAM PALACE'S ISSUED STATEMENT - MAY 2026

THE BUCKINGHAM PALACE'S ISSUED STATEMENT - JANUARY 2027

MAY 2027

tagged albertinespencer

liked by mickschumacher, lance_stroll, pierregasly

user1 HER NAME IS DITTY I LOVE THAT SO MUCH 😭

user2 ok but who'd name their baby ditty? bffr

user3 gurl albie's cousin is literally named kitty fuck outta here 😩

user4 little albie 🤩

mickschumacher itty bitty ditty 😍 liked by estebanocon

user5 itty bitty ditty???

lance_stroll i cannot believe she had grown sooo much ugh 🥲 are you sure she's still not allowed to the paddock? liked by estebanocon

albertinespencer what's in it for the tired parents?

lance_stroll uncle lance as a date night babysitter?

albertinespencer i can take that

pierregasly i'm so excited to take her on a bicycle ride around the track liked by estebanocon

lance_stroll cool story pierre but i have a basket to put her in on our bicycle ride, what do you have? liked by estebanocon

mickschumacher that's cool but uncle mick already got a wagon in the merc garage to put her in for a ride 😎 liked by estebanocon

mercedesamgf1 mick if there's a report of a break-in in our garage we are blaming this on you- we've told you about the wagon in secret

user6 i live for the grid uncles comments

user7 she is princess d coded 👑

albertinespencer she's just cheering for her papa in here, don't mind her 🤔😍 liked by estebanocon

estebanocon my number one fans ❤️

albertinespencer once an ocon fan, always an ocon fan 💖 liked and pinned by estebanocon

charles_leclerc so glad to be there for her christening, lad! liked by estebanocon

landonorris the all-white party- so iconic liked by estebanocon

estebanocon glad you guys could make it before the pre-testing!

albertinespencer she def loves all of you!

landonorris she better- otherwise idk why i had a little mclaren car made for her

tagged estebanocon

liked by charles_leclerc, kitty.spencer, maxverstappen1

comments have been limited

maxverstappen1 she's the sweetest girl ever 😍 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer just say that you're glad she hasn't thrown up on you 🤣

maxverstappen1 no i'm relieved though 😅

kitty.spencer i should fly to switzerland just to spend more time with ditty 😊 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer please!!! it's becoming more boring without estie here 😄

kitty.spencer omw my love!!! 💖

oscarpiastri born in 31st? esteban's driver number? sheesh, a dedicated fan you've got there albie liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer she's an absolute devotee 🤪

landonorris she's the frenchest british princess ever tbh 😕🤭 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer she's born in switzerland but word ig 🤠

lewishamilton sending my love in her way!!! ❤️ liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer thank you lewis! though, you meant it in a metaphorical sense right because i just received a package of baby mercedes things in here with your name on it 🤔

lewishamilton busted 😅

alpineracingf1 lewis please ditty's dad drives for us

estebanocon i love her so much i wish i can come home and ditch the triple header 😕😭 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer it's not encouraged but it is an option...?

alpineracingf1 albie we still need to make you and ditty proud please don't encourage him

PS albie and estie's baby

diana marie-françois elisabeth 'ditty' ocon

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charles-and-camilla-fanfictions · 2 years

Text

Afternoon Escape

They went down to breakfast hand in hand and very late, creating a few sidewards glances and mutterings. Charles pretended not to look but he couldn’t not. Her face was flushed pink and her skin was glowing. She looked so beautiful, he could hardly see straight. Andrew was being extremely chivalrous, helping her down the last step, pulling out her chair for her, pouring water into her glass. If he didn’t know better, it looked like they’d spent the morning making love to each other. It caused more than a few sympathetic glances in his direction but he found he didn’t care. He was looking forward to the end of this holiday. To seeing her again on her own. To the parties they went to and left together. To the nightly telephone conversations. As wonderful as it was to see her every day, it wasn’t enough. Having her there and not being able to be with her was too difficult. Tomorrow, he would arrange to be different and if he ever repeated this holiday, they’d come by themselves, alone.

It was a little cloak and dagger getting on the boat. She hid her hair with a scarf to detract the inevitable attention a woman gets with gleaming blonde hair in this part of the world. And then they both walked down the rocky path to the cove and slipped into the boat. She sat opposite him at first, feeling the wind blowing her hair, untying the scarf to let it fly freely but let go of the scarf by accident. Charles caught it with one hand, smiling at her as she looked at him in shock.

“Are you going to do that with the rest of your clothing?”

“Are you going to catch it?”

“Possibly.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me. I’m not the one who will be embarrassed walking back with no clothes. You’re the one who would be mortified.”

“Darling, I never object to you wearing no clothing.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, making him giggle.

Their guide turned out to have little to no English but reasonably fluent German. That gave Charles someone to chat to about local traditions and landmarks whereas she could zone out and read her book without offending anyone.

“I swear you spoke German.”

“Not a word.”

“Surely you must have learnt at school?”

“German wasn’t exactly everyone’s language of choice in those days. Just French.”

“At boarding school, surely…”

“Darling, I wasn’t interested in learning at that age. I wasn’t like you. School was for friends and excursions and fun.”

“You went to Switzerland to that school there.”

“Finishing school? They taught me how to cook chicken and set a table.”

“You cook a very good chicken dinner.”

“I do. But it has nothing to do with school. That place was very glamorous and filled with a lot of girls just as bored as I was. I learnt nothing.”

“Then Paris?”

“Where I actually did learn French because Monsieur Boucher was a very strict teacher.”

“Which means he was very attractive.”

“Oh exceptionally so. His wife used to bring him his lunch and we’d all sigh in disappointment.”

“You couldn’t have married a butcher anyway.”

“Descendants of… anyway he was a teacher. Impassioned, impoverished, but would have made his mark on Hollywood my word… actually… the name also means executioner…”

“I’m not a big fan of them.”

“I don’t suppose you would be, Darling. But he could be Louis XXV and you’d loath the man because I dared to say he was attractive. Let me have my little crushes, Darling. I saved the big one for you.”

“How big?”

“If you fix my chair so I can lie down and sunbathe, I’ll tell you.”

It was wonderful to have so much time together. To be slightly uncomfortably in each other’s space because it felt so much better. To chatter and bicker and laugh all day. They stopped to swim and he dived off the boat, goading her until she removed her clothes and slid in with him in her bright red costume and it was so warm it felt like being in a bath. The sea was crystal clear and she put her hand in the water as the boat chugged on, savouring the feel as it whisked past. She enjoyed the picnic they shared and the tea they were obliged to try. The translations of a story their guide told and the feeling of Charles’s hand placed on her back as she lay on her stomach to dry her costume and he read her book out loud to her. As it got cooler and darker, the feel of his shirt against her skin and the familiar smell of him as she sunk against his chest filled her heart, watching the shoreline rise up from the black ink of the sea.

“He asked if we’re enjoying our honeymoon. I said we’ve been married for years and he told me I was very lucky to be so in love with my beautiful woman.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I agreed with him. I said I thank God for you every day.”

“And do you? I thought you asked for forgiveness every day?”

“I’ve stopped. How can I ask for forgiveness when I’m overcome with gratitude for my blessings. You’re my blessing.”

She kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder, completely relaxed.

“Are we going to talk about what happens when we get back to the villa?”

“No.”

“Are you being an ostrich?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not think it’s going to be jarring.”

“I don’t really want to think about it. Concentrate on now.”

“We’re almost there, Darling.”

“No. We’ve got a car ride back to the villa. That’s another forty minutes with you.” But even the words made her heart sting. Counting the time down in minutes before the pretence started up again. Pretending she wasn’t in love with him. That this relationship wasn’t the most important thing in her life. That she could forget about him. Pretending to her husband that he was just some fun, a bit of excitement when he consumed her every waking thought. He stroked her arm and it made her skin ache. The knowledge that even this was not permitted. Wanting to kiss him so desperately, knowing she couldn’t. She hadn’t kissed him all day and now…

She was so quiet in the car on the way back. Their fingers entwined, stroking each other gently with a charge he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off. The tips of her fingers pressing into his palms. Her head resting on his shoulder. This should feel exhilarating but it didn’t. They should be giggling and excited to spend the time together, looks across at each other, the occasional tacit brush against her. Neither of them felt anything other than dread.

“I can’t bare not being with you.”

He heard her words and kissed the top of her head. “Stay the night with me.”

“Okay.”

He wasn’t expecting her to agree. But it was a relief. He slipped his hand up and into her hair, bringing her face towards his. Those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes returned his gaze with a ferocity he wasn’t prepared for and they shared one kiss which choked him with love. “I’m only happy when I’m with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I’ll take that. You’re my shot of happiness. Each time I see you. You top me up again. And life drains it away but you’re there and nothing matters as much. Nothing is quite as painful.”

“We should be together. This is so painful.”

“I’m sorry. It’s because of me we can’t. And I’m so sorry.”

“If I’d not married Andrew…”

“We just fell in love far too late.”

“You mean I did. I’m so sorry. I was so young. I thought I knew what I wanted.”

“Maybe you were right. We’d be completely different people if we’d got married then. And you’d never have seen me. You’d have been alone and lonely and I’d have left you whilst you were pregnant to go to sea and you wouldn’t have been allowed to do anything and you’d have been so stifled. It might have broken you. We needed time. And we didn’t have it. I couldn’t have asked you to wait until I was out of the navy. You’d have been thirty and still unmarried and life would have passed by without you.” Their conversation was broken by the lights from the drive leading up to the villa. He squeezed her hand and looked back at her eyes, surprised at how soft they were.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” He looked at her in surprise.

“For not blaming me.”

“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

She kissed him softly. “It’s not your fault. You are who you are. I love you anyway. Kiss me three times.”

“Why three?”

“Once is always just a bit of a shock. I’m not prepared. The second I can enjoy because I’m expecting it and wanting it and it’s not the last. And the last I can prepare myself for.”

“You make me laugh.” But he did what she asked anyway. She was right. The first kiss was very intense and almost hurried. The last lingered and it was difficult to pull away from. But the second was filled with every emotion he could express. He did enjoy it. Much more than the other two for knowing it wasn’t the last and without any of the tension of the first. And on that happy discovery, he got out of the car and they walked into the villa with their friends.

The welcome party was not what she would have expected. There was a tense atmosphere and they were led into an office where a member of his staff stood with her husband. Panic hit her before she could think.

“What’s happened? Tom? Laura? Are they okay?”

Andrew silenced her with a nod and a gesture to stop talking. With the immediate relief of knowing her children were okay, she calmed down. Anything else she could deal with.

“You were photographed on the boat.”

She saw Charles wince beside her.

“We need to know worse case scenario.”

“It will be nothing. Just two friends on a boat.” The immediate denial of their relationship rankled her, even though she knew it was necessary.

“Are you certain? No photo will be able to insinuate more?”

“There was nothing to photograph. We were ‘discrete’ even for friends.” She glanced at Andrew whose eyes slightly smiled at her before his face turned back to stone.

“Well I’ll put out a statement that the Prince and his friend Mrs Parker Bowles were enjoying their free time on holiday.”

“You’re not to name her.” Andrew’s voice was suddenly very stern. “Do not put my name across the tabloids. I’ll sue anyone who insinuates anything about my wife.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? People are already asking questions about the two of them.”

“Absolutely. There’s no evidence to prove my wife is having an affair with the Prince of Wales. And I’ll sue anyone who says it for slander.”

They walked back to their room together in silence, Camilla wracked with guilt. He opened the door to let her in and then surprised her by wrapping her in his arms.

“I’m so sorry.”

He sighed. “This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not a photograph of you though.”

“Why did you start sleeping with him?”

“Which time?”

That made them both chuckle.

“The first time?”

“Because you were sleeping with his sister.”

“The next time?”

“Because you were off with someone else.”

“And this time?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t tell him that she’d fallen in love with him.

“I think you see my point. And I encouraged you. It’s not actually your fault.”

That eased the guilt somewhat. But only part of the guilt, and only that which she felt towards Andrew.

“What’s the likelihood of you stopping seeing him? If I asked you to please find someone else?”

She didn’t answer that one either. Just held onto him tighter.

“Milla?”

“Don’t ask me to do that. I don’t want to have to start lying to you.”

Then he kissed her and it made her cry because there was still some form of love there underneath it all and he was being so uncharacteristically nice to her and understanding. And then guilt hit her harder because he wasn’t who her heart was hurting for.

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 1 year

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The King and I

Chapter One: On His Majesty's Secret Service

Featuring His Majesty, King Charles III

With passing of Queen Elizabeth II, her first son Charles has ascended the throne to officially becoming King Charles III. And weeks before this, then Prince Charles had enjoyed regular rendezvous with his most recent love interest. Me, James Cole, his newly hired PR chief. My job will be to get the public considerably more juiced up about Charles becoming king than they currently are, although before that, I have to neutralize any more stories about my boss boss accepting suitcases of cash, or giving away honors to donors. More importantly, keeping his tryst between his new fuck boy a secret.

Well, today, Charles will be recording his first public address to the nation as sovereign. He'll be paying tribute to his late mother and dedicating the remainder of his life to the service of the British people and the wider commonwealth at large. Using this as cover, this will be the first time His Majesty and I will be together since his mother's death, enjoying a moment of passion while the King was undertaking official duties.

When I arrived at Buckingham Palace, the British sovereign's principal home, I was taken into the sitting room where I waited for the new king. When Britain's new monarch arrived, accompanied by his wife Camilla, the Queen Consort, I got up and gave him a respectful bow. He was dressed impeccably in a black suit, a crisp white shirt and black tie, still mourning his late mother. I saw King Charles looking at me with a raised eyebrow and I smiled, trying not to make eye contact.

"Could you two give me some privacy with Mr. Cole." He told his wife Camilla and aide. Agreeing with his request, Camilla and aide exited the room.

As soon as the door closed, I couldn't stop myself from walking up to His Majesty until we were inches apart. Surprising Charles, he said "Er... Mr. Cole, what are you do..."

I interrupted him by kissing him hard on the mouth with a little tongue thrown in. I was hot and raring to go and being in the presence of the newly acceded king was quite intoxicating to me. The smell of his cologne-scented skin, the soft yet firm feel of his warm body, the soft wool of the suit he was wearing and his now hard-on poking at my thigh. It was all too much.

After a moment or two, Charles gasped about how long it had been since he'd been with me and how good it felt. I responded by kissing him hard and placing his hand on my erection. Seconds later, I knelt before him, placing my hands gently on his upper legs and savoring the feel of this beautiful man. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I reached for the bulge in his pants and he gasped in pure pleasure. I had to have his cock. I reached up and undid the buttons on his suit coat and unbuttoned his coat, giving me clear access to his crotch. I ran my hand over the bulge once more recalling how hung he is. Then I unzipped his pants, reached into his boxers and extracted my prize.

I looked at him with eyes filled with lust and longing, while running my hands up and down the shaft of his cock and teasing the head with my thumbs. Charles moaned and shivered until I couldn't take no more, darted forward and took the head of his cock in my mouth, tasting the precum that was collecting there. It tasted delicious as I slowly run my tongue up and down the shaft of his royal cock.

"So...gooood..." His Majesty moaned as he reached down and grabbed me behind the head with his huge, swollen hands, taking the head in my mouth.

Then he was suddenly pulling my face toward his crotch and forcing his dick down my throat. I wanted to please the king. So I fought to keep from chocking and let him shove his big cock deeper and deeper into my throat. And as married men are inclined to do, he started hunching my mouth as though he was fucking his wife. I took his plunging dick and made love to it with my tongue as Charles repeatedly shoved it down my throat and pulled it quickly back out. I went down on him with everything I had, sucking as though my life depended on it.

I couldn’t hold his entire dick in my throat for very long, as I couldn’t breath. But Charles didn’t seem to mind when I pulled my head back and again started working on just the head of his cock. In fact he let go of my head, placed his hands on his hips and just stared down at me as I sucked him expertly. I went at this for some time, noting his rapid breathing and increasing excitement, making him moan with more intensity.

"I'm going to come, I'm going to come.” The King warned. I wanted his load so I sucked and tongued his dick even more. “I'm coming, I'm coming.”

Suddenly his cock burst forth with a sizable load, filling my mouth. I swallowed and kept swallowing as His Majesty's cock squirted out his load. Then even as I continued to suck the last few drops of his cum out, the new monarch’s cock deflated. He let me suck on his soft dick for several more moments before pulling it away.

"Come here, James." He said as he helped me to my feet.

My cock was as expected stretching my shorts while he kept his eyes fixed on me. Moving his gaze down to the tent in my shorts, Charles grabbed me by the waist and before I knew what was happening he had opened my pants and pushed them down my legs, exposing my throbbing 7" cut prick. Then he grabbed my cock and we both groaned as he took it in his hand. I was so turned by his touch that I thought I would explode before he did anything more. Moments later, I watched as if in a trance as this 73-year-old grandfather of five and king of the UK dropped to his knees in front of me. He slid his tongue up the underside of my shaft and wrapped it around the head, sucking vigorously.

"God save the king." I said watching this man in his expensive clothes on his knees sucking me off.

He swallowed more and more of my cock, deeper into his hungry mouth. I was finding it hard to hold back, but I had no intention of stopping him as his hand grabbed my nuts, he squeezed them tight while his head bobbed up and down my prick. Charles was working the underside of my shaft with his slightly rough tongue all wet, hot slick with his mouthful of saliva. I couldn't help the loud groans as I pushed my cock further into his mouth and down his throat. I began fucking his face furiously, I was going wild.

Knowing I was near cumming, I told him I was close, but kept bobbing on my shaft as I as I rocked forward on my feet. Next thing I knew, I felt his swollen middle finger brush against my hole. That was it for me, I tense up and with one final thrust, my crotch was pressed against his face, my cock spewing milky jism deep down his throat as he swallowed heartily.

When I had finished and we caught our breath, Charles stood up, he looked at me and we both started laughing, seemly satisfied with our quick sex frenzy. We both proceeded to cleaned up and get dressed. Afterwards, Charles left pretty quickly with a smile on his face and recorded his address in the Blue Drawing Room of the palace.

#King Charles III #The King and I #fan fiction #On His Majesty's Secret Service #Prince Charles #royalty #british royal family #british royalty

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confusedgnosticcg · 2 years

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#queen of england #long live the queen #god save the queen #queen elizabeth ii #prince charles #lady louise windsor #prince andrew #september 2022 #gun warning #immortality #fiction #short story

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 month

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The most powerful moment of the coronation of King Charles III was not the gold glittering off carriages or epaulettes — not the pomp and show and signifiers of power.

It was precisely their opposite: when Charles shed his gold robes and stood in a thin white shirt, his frail humanity implied.

Then a screen was erected around him and, shielded, he had a private consultation with the Archbishop of Canterbury, who dabbed anointing oil with his hands on Charles’s bare breast.

"This was the most solemn and personal of moments,” Buckingham Palace said.

Charles was bare before God, in privacy, God being one of the last beings with no need to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

The Princess of Wales looked on as the screen shielded her father-in-law.

By contrast, she was at that point the most magnificent she had ever been, swathed in layer upon layer of regality, the dress, the robes, the hanging chains, headpiece and ribbons all serving to move the viewing gaze — subjects in every sense — from our awareness of Catherine Middleton with her everyday human DNA and towards the shared fiction of her transcendent queenliness.

Less than a year later, this moment is remembered with new and terrible power.

It is spring again, but it’s a time of hard Lenten moral reflection for us as a nation, in relationship to our royals, as well as an ever more voraciously unprivate modern celebrity culture.

Both the King and the princess have cancer, the latter’s disclosed by Catherine in an unprecedented video address on Friday, March 22.

Catherine’s speech was something of a plea bargain in which she traded not only her customary silence but her most personal of health ordeals in order to put an end to toxic rumours swirling online that had become in tone like an unruly mob rattling at the palace gates.

Or rattling at the figurative locks on her medical notes, with three workers at the London Clinic, where she and the King were treated, suspended and under investigation for allegedly trying to access her records (hers, it is important to note, the King’s were unmolested).

📷: Getty Images

What was so powerful about the anointing of the King was the sacredness of that space in which he could be fully human away from observation and judgment.

There should be another one-on-one consultation that is sacred, where anyone, from King to princess to pauper, can expect to be shriven in total privacy, and that is the sanctity of the medical room.

It used to be that priests were our only bound confidants, we could trust them to be privy to all our spiritual ills.

Now doctors are our secular priests: bound by law and ethics to enshrine confidentiality at the heart of the patient relationship.

As a result, our medical privacy in an age of oversharing and online surveillance feels both stranger and more necessary.

If we knew our every GP-inspected rash was to be posted on TikTok for the nation, many of us would quite literally die of embarrassment.

The King’s appointment behind the three-sided screen can now be viewed through the lens of royal illness.

The lavishly embroidered panels and expensive white shirt now replaced by the flimsy three-sided ward screen on wheels and thin hospital gown that can humble us all.

But it also enacts a principle at the very heart of becoming the monarch.

The medical-like screen is erected in the coronation to tell us there are some places the public cannot go; to tell us that there are sacredly personal moments in which a person, any person, however swathed in our projections of power, needs to be nakedly human.

Otherwise, they will go mad. We need to make sure the screens are erected around Catherine now.

Much is said, quite a lot of it by Prince Harry himself, of the dangers of the wives of the princes repeating the tragic history of their mother, Princess Diana, hunted by photographers.

He remains phobic to any hint of tabloid persecution or paparazzi chase. But this is a sideshow, even an anachronism in 2024.

He and others have not recognised how the “chase” has changed. Who needs paparazzi when there are a billion citizen hacks ready to take pictures with their phones, in case a convalescing woman nips to a Windsor farm shop with her husband?

Instead, the appetite now is not to see but to know.

The royals used to have a contract with the public: we pay for them, and in return, they give us their presence.

Nearly all of their official job is to do with surface: to show up, to put in appearances at a set number of functions, whether at the opening of parliament or the opening of a leisure centre.

But now parts of the online mob seem to be staging a coup. We want more than the surface, we want to puncture the skin barrier of the royal family and occupy from the inside.

The “fans” have become an invasive virus. The royal analogy is often that they are trapped in a gilded zoo. This new model, instead, casts the royals more as lab rats.

When Catherine disappeared from view in January after announcing a “planned abdominal operation,” the response from internet truthers was one of irate entitlement.

They are now the 1980s tabloids: ravening for intimacies and making stuff up when thwarted.

This wasn’t the boomer generation, who are both more respectful of the royals and more private about their own health.

It was the fortysomething mothers frustrated when they can’t track the phone location of everyone in their life; or the twentysomethings on Snap Map.

Both desperate for their personalised new Netflix season of “The Royals” to drop.

Catherine presents with such stoicism and dignity, it is easy to forget where this new invasiveness started: when she was pregnant with Prince George in December 2012 and hospitalised for extreme morning sickness.

While she was sleeping on the ward, a radio station in Australia rang the hospital switchboard pretending to be the Queen.

They broadcast the nurse’s comments about Catherine’s “retching.”

One could only find this prank funny if Catherine had already — a young, wretchedly ill, pregnant woman — been dehumanised.

George is now ten and his mother hospitalised again, and in that decade, the physical security of ill royals may have tightened but their claim to bodily autonomy seems to have weakened.

Some say Kensington Palace “brought it on themselves” by their wish for discretion; this claim is duplicitous.

The late Queen Elizabeth II became increasingly debilitated in her final years with not much detail ever given; just as her father, King George VI, died without disclosing his lung cancer.

I’m glad that the British do not subject their heads of state to the same publicised medical reports as the president of the United States; one shouldn’t have to present a stool swab to sit on the throne.

No, instead the apparent justification of all those clicking and posting conspiracy theories “worried for Catherine’s welfare” was this sinful truth.

As a beautiful, 42-year-old mother of three, her drama was more box office than the ailments of those older, a pound of her flesh was worth more.

Pity, Susan Sontag said in her 1978 book Illness as Metaphor, is close to contempt.

Back then cancer was still taboo. Those around the patient, Sontag says, “express pity but also convey contempt.”

Ask any cancer patient and they will say they don’t want pity: it is too isolating, it sets them apart, an unwanted privilege.

This is why the video plea of Catherine was one of affinity, rather than pity or privilege.

Last year, she sat in robes in Westminster Abbey at the coronation of her father-in-law, next to her future king son and future king husband.

In her video address last week, she sat on a classically English garden bench, pale, alone and in jeans, as bare of pomp as any royal can be.

No mention of kings or titles, just Diana’s ring on her hand.

Rather she gave an appeal, parent to parent, human to human, about her “huge shock” and her care for her “young family.”

And, finally, her kinship with anyone who lives in a vulnerable human body susceptible to a democratic illness like cancer, “you are not alone.”

Or, to paraphrase Richard Curtis:

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a public, asking for some time to endure gruelling chemotherapy."

NOTE: Additional photos have been included in this article.

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

Harry Styles x British Royal!Reader

Her Royal Highness Princess YN, daughter to Prince Charles and late Princess Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales, younger sister to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and granddaughter to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh would’ve never thought to meet Harry Styles by accident—by literally running into him. And Harry Styles would’ve never thought to meet the Princess of England again after that seemingly fateful afternoon.

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author’s note: I’m really super excited for this one, but please bear with me if I don’t get the titles right. I’m still putting more knowledge into my head about it! This work is pure fiction and entirely self-indulgent on my behalf.

series masterlist » ch. 1 is here!

;

theroyalfamily Happy 27th Birthday Princess YN! 🎂

📸 Chris Jackson (chrisjacksongetty) and the Duke of Sussex, earlier this month.

Liked by ynismyqueen, yourfan1, hsfan1, royalistsbitch, mrsamclaflin, gemmastyles, and 986,351 others | 334,009 comments

hsfan1 It’s Her Highness’s birthday AND Fine Line got released today - this is the best day of my life. Happy Birthday!

ynismyqueen HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY QUEEN

yourfan1 Happy Birthday, Your Highness!

yourfan2 She looks SO stunning! Happy Birthday, YN!

yourfan3 How is it possible that she looks so much like her mother 🥺 Happy Birthday, princess ❤️

↳ dianaforever right? I thought the same, especially while I looked through the older pictures and the more recent ones. Diana’s genes really said “Excuse me, that’s my spot” while creating this angel of a woman 🥺

liked by yourfan3, yourfan1, hsfan1, and royalistsbitch

↳ yourfan3 Totally 🥹

hsfan2 Fine Line release, Gemma liked this post, what a day. Now I’m waiting for Harry to like this one too, so my shipper-brain can go into a frenzy 💀

liked by hsfan1 and hsfan3

mrsamclaflin I wish you a very Happy Birthday, Your Royal Highness 🎂

↳ everyonesfan And there he is! Like always: on time ❤️

liked by mrsamclaflin, yourfan1, and yourfan2

↳ mrsamclaflin Of course!

liked by everyonesfan and yourfan3

royalistsbitch Can you marry me, my princess? 🥺😮‍💨 HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

;

The morning of her birthday was always a hectic matter. One could easily mistake this particular day for the birthday of the Queen herself, but in reality, it was only the result of a family who deeply adores the youngest child of Prince Charles and Princess Diana. But the royal protocol was still in place—not even the Princess of England could change that on her special day. That’s why her entire day was strictly and thoroughly planned, except for a few hours in the morning after her Lady of the Bedchamber had woken the princess to begin the day. Her Mistress of the Robes had already hung the several cautiously put-together outfits at the beautifully crafted screen separating the space in front of the closet from the rest of the dressing room. One look at them, and the princess sighed deeply after crawling out under the thick blankets dominating the comfortable bed. The outfits were nice, of course, but the meaning behind two out of the three meant official duties because, after twenty-six years inside this family, she knew how to figure out her day at the sight of clothing pieces. At least one piece each was in her favorite color, even though the entire attire reminded her of her Granny.

Another sigh left the princess, but the one present thought—I want to go back to bed—vanished at the prospect of a beautiful winter day with blue sky, fluffy, sheep-like clouds, and the sun shining down on busy London. Leaning against the wall next to the grand windows stretching from almost the floor up to two-thirds of the high ceiling, YN looked out of it, straight onto the usually beautiful garden, but now all she saw was bare trees and brown grass. Her face immediately showed the displeasure at the sight. She loved Kensington, she really did, but the winter-y gloom made everything dull and unpleasant. Even though she was born in December, YN most definitely wasn’t a winter child—she preferred spring and summer over anything else.

The soft knock at the French door leading into her apartment let YN turn around with a grin. “Come in!” Her voice traveled towards the waiting party of three men in front of her humble home, and after one of the doors got opened, a head with tousled red hair peeked inside. As soon as his eyes fell onto the youngest Mountbatten-Windsor of the trio, his lips stretched into a wide grin. “There she is! Our birthday girl,” he exclaimed and pushed the door wide open to reveal a smiling William and an as bright as his sons smiling Charles.

Harry looked at the other two expectantly after his father had closed the door, and moving his arms in a counting manner, the younger prince started to count. “And one, two, three…” Suddenly the three men began to sing.

“Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday Dear YN

Happy Birthday to You!”

Grinning and chuckling, YN clapped excitedly, face beaming with utmost joy. She jumped into her eldest brother’s arms and hugged him close as he kissed her head softly. “Happy Birthday, sunshine,” he wished her, and the woman kissed his cheek. “Thank you, old man,” she returned with a grin while William only rolled his eyes.

Harry grinned as brightly and wide as she did, passing the cupcake with the already lit candle and an envelope with a massive bow to William before hugging her close and lifting her off the ground, her feet dangling under her dark blue robe in the air. “Happy Birthday, jellybean.” YN pressed her lips to his bearded cheek and grinned even wider. “Did you plan this little get-together?” The middle child of them nodded proudly. “You can bet on it. Dear Willy over there tried to talk me out of it because he thought you’d be sleeping in. I told him it would be bollocks because you, dear sister, never stop working.” William scoffed, and they both turned to him. “Excuse me and my assumptions that someone would let her sleep in on her special day.” Charles laughed softly behind his hand before opening his arms and wrapping his youngest child into a loving hug. “You know how it goes, boys,” he told the two princes and gently kissed YN's forehead. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” he wished her and kissed her forehead another time. “Thank you, papa,” YN spoke silently and nuzzled into the warm embrace.

Ever since returning from Oxford, the father-daughter duo had spent less time than usual together because they had been both busier than normal. With her degrees in Politics and International Relations and Literature—the latter had been her choice of study—she suddenly had sort of acquired a new status within the Royal Family. She had tended to her charitable work but had also spent more time with the reception of political figures and had pushed herself into a new field of charities: political education among the students in their country. And Charles had attended his appointments and public functions as Prince of Wales.

It was good to feel his hug again. It had always been one the safest places on earth for the princess.

William cleared his throat to continue with the program in the form of cake and presents. Well, a cupcake and one present. The rest would have to wait until YN’s duties were fulfilled and the entire family would come together. The planned dinner would be the grandest in a long time.

“So, we put our heads together for this present, and it was the only thing we could come up with because everything else was already stolen by the rest of the lot—and Harry over there can call himself lucky for coming up with at least one idea,” William explained while holding the envelope up, but Harry swatted his hand and took the plate with the cupcake in his own hands. “Will you let her at least blow the candle and wish for something before you jump directly to the next point on the list? Thank you very much. And thanks for the hit. Welcome to the Sleep Deprivation Society, my ass.” Shaking his head in exaggeration—William only laughed under his breath while Charles threw his two sons' scolding looks— the redhead held the cupcake right in front of her face, the purple and white swirled candle still with a flame on top of it. “Go on, jellybean,” he smiled down at the blonde woman, and YN closed her eyes before blowing the candle out, and the men started to clap.

Smiling, she opened them again and clapped both hands. “You were saying something about this envelope, Will?” Excitement was clearly visible in her bright eyes and the eldest chuckled before passing it to her. “It’s from all three of us.” Nodding, she grinned at every man in their small round. “Thank you,” she already said, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Open it first before thanking us,” he teased her, and with a breathless bit to her lower lip, YN opened the envelope with much more force than needed and let the paper slowly fall to the carpet under her bare feet.

Her eyes widened as soon as they realized what she held in her hands, and with a squeal, the princess started to jump up and down. “It is… it is…” She couldn’t bring the sentence to an end, too overwhelmed and excited to utter a coherent one. The brothers and the father exchanged proud looks before turning back to the still-squealing princess. “You really got me a ticket for Harry Styles?!” YN still couldn’t believe it even though she held the paper in her very own hands.

Charles softly stroked her blonde hair. “Your grandfather told me something fundamental, and that was to let you live your life. I know you miss your studies dearly, the life you had in Oxford, the freedom. That is why I will try to give this back to you, even if it’s only for a couple of hours or days at a time.” With nothing but wonder, YN stared up at her father, not knowing where all of this was coming from so suddenly. But she hadn’t to ask at the same time because she knew her grandpapa and how he wanted for every single one of them to gain a small amount of freedom back, but especially for her—the baby of the family.

It was freedom in moderation, of course, but YN had learned over the years that this was the best she could get. So she embraced the little independence she could acquire between the Royal Protocol and her family, the public eye, and her duties because she never wanted to end like her beloved mother.

Her arms wrapped around the older man and held him close. “Thank you, papa,” she whispered into the soft cotton of his vest and felt his hand stroking her back. “Not for this, sweetheart. Not for wanting a piece of normality in your life.”

;

vogue_uk We had the utmost honor to interview Her Royal Highness, Princess YN. We talked about the life of a “modern” princess, how life in Buckingham Palace has shaped her and her interests, and we even tickled out the answer to our question about which of her Christmas presents she loved the most—and which member of the Royal Family had gifted it.

Click the link in our bio to see|read the full interview with Princess YN!

PS: The Princess of England is funnier than most people.

Liked by hsfan1, yourfan1, ynismyqueen, royalistsbitch, gemmastyles, and 879,774 others | 258,691 comments

vogue_uk “I will probably shock the world in its very foundations with this answer, but my most loved present this year was by far the Fine Line vinyl Will [His Royal Highness, Prince William] gifted me—the gorgeous limited edition, you know which one, don’t you? The stunning black and white? Yes, exactly this one. Now everyone probably will ask themselves, ‘Why didn’t she buy it herself on the release day?’ Well, for that, you have to understand our family traditions: We swore an oath never to buy the things we like to have about which we already have talked in the past, so no one will feel the embarrassment of a mediocre excited face on Christmas Morning because one already got it themself. It’s the most horrendous feeling in existence—well, during Christmas and birthdays, at least.”

ynandharryshipper The princess probably woke up the morning of the interview and thought to herself, “I wanna see this internet burn,” and then casually proceeded with her plan😮‍💨

↳ yourfan1 Totally 😂

hsfan1 Did YN, the Princess of England, seriously tell the world that she loves Harry Styles??????? I never expected to admire and love one of the Royals, but here we go.

ynismyqueen “The album has run on repeat ever since Christmas Morning. Granny [Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II] told Grandpapa [His Royal Highness, Prince Philip] to find her some earplugs. Not because she dislikes Mr. Styles’ voice, but because she rather prefers not to have to throw the turntable out of Balmoral—she doesn’t like to hear things in a loop. She is very happy now that I’ve returned to Kensington [Palace], and I am happy that I can hear Fine Line now on full volume.” - She is such a mood :D

↳ hsfan2 Damn, this woman really said I am a Harrie and proud of it! 😩

royalistsbitch Can we quickly talk about how bloody authentic she is??? She is definitely the most down-to-earth royal of the lot 😍

↳ yourfan2 +1! Directly followed by Kate!

liked by royalistsbitch

dailymail Harry Styles is back in the UK!

Singer-songwriter Harry Styles is back in London after recording—and releasing—his new album Fine Line in his Californian home. Styles interacted with his fans on his way to the BBC Radio 1 studio for an interview about his new album and plans for upcoming events and tours.

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, hsfan3, ynismyqueen, sunflowerbutterfly, and 5,613 others | 1,994 comments

hsfan1 There will be a listening WITH HIM IN THE SAME ROOM?! Where do I get that ticket????? 😭

↳ hsfan2 it’s a strictly limited amount because it’s supposed to be something more private and home-y feeling. That’s why I don’t believe I will be a lucky one, but hey, I will keep my eyes open 👀

↳ hsfan1 Oooooh, okay. Maybe it’s only for selected people, then? We’ll see!

ynismyqueen I am SO sure that YN is sucking those new pictures up like oxygen 😮‍💨

liked by hsfan1, royalistsbitch, sunflowerbutterfly, and 8 others

↳ hsfan3 I’m sure of it! He looks damn handsome (as always) and so cuddle-able ❤️

yn_and_harryshipper He looks exceptionally good today 😩 And the plaid coat??? The princess will love this 🥺

;

The ringing of her phone securely tucked onto the docking station to charge ripped YN out of her hard-working mind, and her fingers’ movements faltered atop the keyboard. With an “Alexa, please stop the music”—she was polite even to a plastic thing that could talk to her—she paused at Sunflower, Vol. 6 and picked up her phone to accept the call of her best friend.

“To what do I owe the honor of your call, Mylady?” YN greeted Meredith Brisbane, her former dorm companion in Oxford and study mate in her Literature major, with a more nasally voice than ever. The princess knew that she sounded like a character straight out of a Jane Austen novel naturally, but well, she couldn’t do much about her upbringing now.

Better to embrace and sometimes overact it a bit.

But Meredith only laughed at the other end of the call because she was definitely used to it by now. “Well, I wanted to hear if my best friend is still alive and not already drowned in work—.” At that, YN scoffed softly, eyes settling on her calendar, which was full of post-its and scribbles, and she knew with certainty that her assistant had even more events and appointments where her presence was required. Meredith hummed in understanding. “I know that sound; you don’t have to say more. And then I wanted to ask if you checked the Gram already.” The princess was now intrigued at the second question and rummaged through the stuff on her desk to find the case with her AirPods. After finding them, she popped them in and held the phone between both hands to log into her secret Instagram account faster.

It sucked that the members of the Royal Family weren’t allowed to have public and known social media accounts because she really wanted to share certain aspects with the public to finally lift the myth and stop the assumptions made by others. But after one argument over dinner with her Granny, followed by a rebuke from her and one from Camilla, she never spoke of it again in their presence. Even the staff of the official Royal Family social media accounts had a word with her over tea. Ever since YN kept her mouth shut about this particular topic and enjoyed the freedom of her little secret Instagram account with the incredible follower number of 11 people.

“What am looking fo-… nevermind!”

With wide eyes, YN stared at her feed full of a smiling Harry Styles in a blue and yellow plaid coat, sunglasses in fluffy brown locks, and the signature pearl necklace around his neck. Reading the several headlines, she knew that he was back in the UK, in London. They shared a time zone and city again, and the princess grinned like an imbecile at her screen.

Meredith’s chuckle echoed through the AirPods. “I saw them plop up one after the next and had to tell you. My friend Daniel—I told you about him, right?” YN hummed softly before she perked up. “The one working for BBC Radio?” Her best friend agreed. “Yep! He wrote me a few minutes ago that there will be a small listening event for Fine Line? Limited number of tickets, super small, one can have a conversation with him if one is lucky enough, the whole thing.” Now, YN shot up from her chair in front of the desk and stared straight out of the window, eyes even wider. “Do you know how they will get sold?” Crossing her fingers, YN hoped Mer would’ve all the answers to her biggest dream. But the sigh was answer enough. “Nope, sorry, sweets. But I will keep my eyes open and send you the link as soon as I stumble over it, ‘promise.”

And YN knew that Meredith would always keep her promises, so she sat down again and sighed deeply. “He looks so good. How is that even possible?” Propping her chin on one of her hands, the other hand still held onto the smartphone, and her thumb scrolled through every single newly released picture of Harry bloody Styles.

Plaid suits him, the princess thought with a small smile before focusing on the call again.

“I’m asking that same question every time I see a picture of you, sweets. Is it genetics? God-given? Magic? Witchcraft? Tell me all your secrets.” YN could hear the grin of her best friend through the phone. Shrugging, she leaned back in her chair. “It’s a talent,” the blonde spoke dramatically, and the two women started to laugh until their stomachs hurt.

“But seriously,” YN started again after wiping the tears from under her eyes. “He looks better every year. Though I miss the long hair One Direction era.” Those lush brown locks were a sight to behold, and she still had a poster with long-haired Harry somewhere hidden in her closet. She heard Meredith type on her laptop before she Aaaaah-d in realization. “Now I know what you mean. And yes, I have to agree. Those long hair really suited him. Maybe he would let it grow back if the Princess of England asked him personally? In a letter, maybe? With one of those fancy wax seals?” YN would like to tell her best friend that her family did not use wax seals since the last century, but she knew better. One look in the upper drawer to her left would prove her words wrong. “I don’t think he answers to desperate pleas of desperate princesses who had an unhealthy obsession with his former boy group as a teenager.” No, she didn’t suspect Harry Styles for someone who bends easily to other wills. He would never have gotten this far and been as successful as he was at such a young age if it had been different.

“Well, it’s worth a try. But hey, YNN?” The princess hummed in question while liking every single picture on her run through her feed. “Don’t work too much, yeah? I have the feeling I’m the one responsible for keeping your habits in check, and I can practically see the smoke emitting from your overworked brain till the other end of London.” YN could hear the worry in her friend’s voice, so she smiled softly. Meredith really let her feel loved and cherished without demanding the impossible. “Will do, pumpkin. I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

While waiting for an answer, the princess started to save every document she worked on today to call it a day and maybe hide in the library to reread Pride and Prejudice. She could use some romantic fairytale and a brooding Mr. Darcy—because her life most definitely wasn’t a romantic fairytale. “I know, sweets. And I love you too. We should grab dinner sometime. How about Thursday?” Grinning, YN closed her laptop and logged out of Instagram on her phone. “Sounds great. I’m open for anything as long as it’s nothing resembling seafood or some artistic bollocks I am supposed to only stare at but not eat it.” She knew that Mer grinned widely at this moment. “Please, I never take you to those fancy restaurants where you should preferably make a reservation in the last century. Nah-ah, we’re going to widen your culinary horizon of peasant food further. How about Burger King?”

;

dailymail Princess YN was spotted today with friend Meredith Brisbane in the City of London, London!

Liked by gemmastyles, yourfan1, yourfan2, royalistsbitch and 11,980 others | 5,452 comments

yourfan1 YN rocks that jacket

royalistsbitch Damn, not sure if I want to be that jacket or her best friend.

↳ ynismyqueen Having the same trouble over here.

yourfan2 I WASNT SURE IF I REALLY SAW HER BUT IT WAS REALLY HER THEN

↳ ynismyqueen YOU SAW HER????!!!

↳ yourfan2 I did! I was in the same bookshop as she and Meredith! And she had a huge stack of novels in her arms (with a lot of good titles, if I may say so) 😍

yourfan3 She gets more beautiful every day 🥹

↳ yourfan4 truuuuuuue 😮‍💨

↳ yourfan5 She is like the epitome of princess-ness ❤️

gemmastyles I am unsure if I want to be that jacket or if I want to have that jacket.

↳ hsfan1 GEMMA IS HERE!

;

“I am not sure if I want to be that jacket or if I want to have that jacket.” Gemma Styles spoke up, her phone in hands, while she sat on the couch at her mother’s house. She could hear commotion in the adjacent kitchen before her mother came into the living room, a dish towel thrown over her right shoulder. “What did you say, darling?” Anne asked and stopped behind the couch to see what her daughter had seen on her phone. Gemma pointed to the screen where Instagram was opened, and the Princess of England, wearing an oversized jeans jacket with colorful shoulders, was seen. Anne hummed and eyed the picture intently. “It suits her very well,” she decided, and Gemma nodded. “It really does! She is so effortlessly beautiful, just as Harry is. This is unfair.” Gemma sighed, and her mother chuckled. “Don’t be so harsh to yourself, love. You are just as beautiful as she is.”

The reassuring sound was interrupted by an entering Harry.

“Gemma is as beautiful as who? Me?” He grinned, and his sister rolled her eyes at his antics. “Very funny, Harold,” Gemma returned and threw a pillow in his vague direction, which he caught mid-air. “But for your information, I meant her.” And with that, his sister almost shoved the phone in his face after he had plopped down onto the couch next to the brunette. Harry got a hold of it before it fell him on the nose and stared at the familiar feed of Instagram with an even more familiar face.

His teenage crush was suddenly right in front of him again.

It was a strange feeling to see that face again after his time oversea, where news about the Royal Family was as scarce as rain in Death Valley. Well, he never was a huge fan of gossip, but her face always stood out—not because of negative headlines, quite the opposite, except that one time he could remember vividly because the entire country had been in shock.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to push those thoughts away because he was painfully aware of the stares his sister and mother gave him. Everyone in his family knew about that silly little crush of his.

“Yeah, she is gorgeous, you are gorgeous, everyone is gorgeous,” he mumbled, thoughts still not back on track. Gemma grinned at that. “Does someone still has a crush?” She almost sang the last word, and Harry nudged his laughing sister in the side until she fell to the side and landed on the decorative couch pillows. “Stop it, G. ‘S not funny.” He was almost embarrassed.

He was a worldwide known and successful 25-years old singer; he was a grown man. He shouldn’t have crushes on princesses or actresses or actors or princes. It was stupid.

His mom softly caressed his fluffy hair before bending down and pressing a kiss on his head. “It’s totally fine to have crushes, love, even if one is a grown adult.” It was as if she could read his mind, but she was his mother, after all; the one human he told everything that happened in his life. Scoffing, he slouched in the soft furniture and shrugged. “Still, I don’t know what you mean,” he tried to escape this topic by turning the tv on—but there her face was plastered over the news because, unlike the other years before, the New Year’s charity gala where she would be the main speaker was supposed to get broadcasted.

He really couldn’t escape his heavily—but foolishly—beating heart.

;

I am so excited for this small series and hope you liked the prologue! As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated :3

Taglist: @onecrazydirectioner

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jessicaloons · 22 days

Text

Chapter 39:

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy

Masterlist - Previous - Next

TW: as mentioned before, I’m using Carlos Sainz (and his family) as the baddies. Big baddies. One might think I don’t like him with how I portray him (and his family) and yep, that’s true. I don’t like him. For many, many reasons. But then again: this is fiction. Just because I portray him (and his family) like this, doesn’t mean that they really are like this. If you are a Carlos Sainz fan: I’m sorry, but he’s the bad guy here and it’s only getting worse… that’s it. That’s the warning.

Monza. Home of the Tifosi. It was loud and crowded in front of the hotel. Charles smiled and signed as much as he could, posed for selfie after selfie. Joked with the fans. From the outside it looked like he was the usual charming and sweet boy, Prince of Ferrari, Il predestinato. But I knew him better than that. I saw the sadness in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The forced smile. When we walked inside I grabbed his hand and he smiled at me.

"You don’t have to fake a smile for me." I whispered when we entered the elevator and he sighed.

"I know… it’s just, I don’t want anyone to see me just slightly unhappy here…" Charles replied and I nodded.

"I get it. Let’s just stay focused. It’s a race weekend like any other. Just that you look like a McDonalds employee this time." I teased a little and he groaned.

"Oh stop it!" he rolled his eyes but laughed "I like the suit and the livery."

"Oh the livery is amazing! Especially the German flag. You’re sporting it for me? Or maybe a little tribute to Michael?"

I laughed when we walked through the door to our room.

"You’re the worst!" he pushed me down on the bed, caging me in "I should teach you some manners…"

"Oh yeah? Teach me some manners? How are you planning on doing that?" I cocked an eyebrow, while he leaned down, kissing along my jaw down to my ear.

"Easy. I strip you naked, piece by piece, slowly. Kiss every inch I unravel. Worship every body part of yours… and when your squirming because you can’t take it anymore. Trembling from anticipation. Then I stop." he whispered in my ear and I shuddered.

"Charles…" I breathed out.

"Yes, cara mia? What is it…" he chuckled.

"Eww eww eww… god not again!" Joris exclaimed from the door, covering his eyes "If you wanna go and get at it, close the damn door! And then hang up a don’t disturb sign! God!"

"I just had to teach my pretty girl some manners." Charles laughed and I pushed him off of me.

"Nope you did not…" I got up and grabbed my suitcase sitting down on the floor.

"What about you have this very physical conversation as soon as I’m gone?" Joris asked and Charles laughed "Here, Silvia asked me to give you this. It’s your schedule for the next 2 days."

"Oh how fun." he scoffed "More sponsor events… more journalists asking me if this weekend my contract renewal will be announced…"

"Charles…" I turned around and looked at him.

"It’s mostly fan events…" Joris interjected.

"At least something." Charles mumbled, disappearing into the bathroom.

"I didn’t want to ruin his mood." Joris whispered but I shook my head, patting the floor beside me "This whole contract thing is really upsetting him."

"Yeah… it sucks. I honestly don’t know why Ferrari waits this long?" I said and leaned against the bed, Joris doing the same "Do they expect a better driver than Charles to come along all of a sudden?"

"Who would that be? There’s not many that are better? And the ones that might are a notch or two are in damn good teams already?" Joris played with his bracelets, a habit Charles had as well.

"There is no one. And as soon as Ferrari gets that in their head, he’ll get his new contract. Believe me!" I said determined.

"I believe you!" Joris answered and I laughed.

"Now we just have to get Charles into believing me…"

I didn’t see Charles the next two days much, he left the hotel room quite early and returned late at night, exhausted but with a little smile on his face. The Tifosi showered him with love and appreciation, something he needed dearly.

"I’m sorry that I was almost gone entirely the last two days…" Charles said when we got up on Thursday, getting ready for media day.

"It’s okay. I was busy myself." not true. I was staying mostly in the hotel room, feeling sick.

"You guys had some events, too?" he asked and I nodded, when my stomach cramped again.

"Umm- yeah…" I said, trying not to hiss in pain, only succeeding halfway.

"Are you okay?" Charles asked as I held my stomach.

"Yeah. It’s nothing." I smiled a little "Really. Just my stomach’s a little rebelling."

"Are you sure? You look a little pale?"

"Don’t worry. I’m fine." I reassured him.

"Okay…"

"Charles. Stop looking at me like that…" I sighed as a wave of nausea hit me. I held up my hand and ran into the bathroom, throwing up.

"Cara mia!" Charles followed me and I got up from the floor "You stay here. I get you some meds."

"Don’t be silly. It’s just a stomach bug!" I rinsed my mouth and wiped my face "Give me 5 minutes and I’m ready to go."

"You should stay in!"

"I probably just ate something wrong, my stomach is a little sensitive." I waved him off and he walked back out hesitantly "5 minutes!"

"Okay…" he sighed and I washed my face. The sandwich at the truck stop. That’s what it must’ve been. It looked half dead. But I ate it anyways. I brushed my teeth, then dried my face and brushed my hair "Alright. Almost done." I smiled at him, stepping out of the bathroom putting on a hoodie and some sunglasses.

"If you feel worse, you tell me, okay?" Charles insisted, grabbing his phone and sunglasses.

"Promise." I walked past him, opening the door when he stopped me "What?"

"Didn’t you forget something?" he cocked an eyebrow and I though about what he meant, he sighed after a moment, pulling me in and kissed me. I tried to push him away, but he held on tight to me.

"Charles! I just threw up." I said but he laughed.

"You brushed your teeth? And I also don’t care." he put his lips on mine again "I kiss you whenever I want to."

"For fucks sake! Close your damn door!" Joris groaned, standing in the doorway.

"Stop bitching around, Trouchie." I laughed nudging him with my shoulder.

"Trouchie?" he grimaced.

"Doesn’t it sound cute?" I winked at him.

"It’s sounds like I’m a dog… so no. Not cute." he mumbled.

"Oh come on, Trouchie. Don’t be sour." Charles laughed and it was one of the very few genuine laughs of the recent days. Joris realised it too and chuckled along.

"Alright… Trouchie it is." he sighed as we stepped into elevator.

"Trouchie… sounds really cute…" Charles said quietly, putting his arm around my shoulders as we made our way downstairs.

"It does." I agreed when the elevator door opened on the floor beneath us and Elijah stepped in. Two guys by his side.

"Lizzie, Charles, Joris. Meet Dave and Aaron. Our new camera and sound guys." he introduced them and I nodded tightlipped .

"Hey guys, nice to meet you." Charles said.

"An honour to meet you guys." Dave said.

"We’re excited to follow you along a little." Aaron smiled at me and I forced out a smile.

Charles pinched my side a little.

"Yeah… nice to meet you guys." I said, feeling Charles gently stroking my side.

"Alright, I don’t know what Julie told you. But this weekend we’re just silent followers. We just film you, but no questions, no direct interacting with us. Just you and what you’re doing and us filming it." Elijah explained and I nodded.

I could live with that, I thought as the elevator doors opened and we could hear the screams of Charles’ fans outside. He looked a little worried for a moment but then put on his smile again and we walked outside. Some fans of my own were waiting as well and I did my best to take selfies with each and every one, signing as many stuff as possible, accepting a whole bunch of little fan gifts. Bracelets, puppets, paintings. It got more and more crowded and as I hugged a young girl, thanking her for a bracelet Joris tapped my shoulder, nodding his head towards the cars.

"Thank you guys!!" I smiled at my fans and the then waved one last time before I followed Joris to the car, looking at him confused.

"Sorry, but it got quite full there and Charles is a little worried… after last year." he said and I sighed, turning around. Looking at Charles who was practically swarmed by his fans, looking over at me.

"Thanks for waiting until I was done at least." I sighed.

"Your fans are more than happy, you gave every single one of them your attention." Joris said and I nodded, climbing into the van.

"Least I can do." I mumbled leaning my head back, my stomach still feeling a little off.

"Let’s go." Charles said a couple of minutes later, when he sat down next to me "Hey sleepy head."

"I’m awake." I yawned a little and he chuckled, pulling me to his side "You didn’t have to send Joris to look after me. I was doing just fine."

"I don’t trust them around you anymore… not after last year…" he answered simply and I sighed "I protect what I love."

"You’re so cheesy, Charlie bear."

Charles POV:

Contract renewal here. Contract renewal there. It seemed like there was not any other thing on their mind than when Ferrari will announce my and Carlos contract renewal. A part of me wanted nothing more than to answer that at the moment there wasn’t even talks about this topic happening. That I didn’t know myself if I would drive for Ferrari after next season. But I knew that I would only make things worse so I smiled. Said that we’re focusing on our races. That that was important. Everything else can be discussed later. But I saw the faces of the journalists, knew they weren’t happy with the answer. I watched a clip of Jacques Villeneuve talking with Canal+ about the contractual situation and how he thinks that if Ferrari won’t announce the renewal of my contract here in Monza, he’s not sure if there will even be a renewal at all. I swallowed hard.

"What’s up?" Pierre sat down next to me and I looked up.

"Hmm?"

"I asked what’s up?" he repeated and I sighed a little.

"Not much. Preparing for my interview with Canal+."

"They love you, don’t worry." he shrugged his shoulders.

"Not all of them." I scoffed.

"Most of them."

"Yeah. Have you seen Lizzie?" I checked my phone, still no reply from her.

"Not since the media pen?" Pierre cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay…" I texted her again when Mia waved me over "I have to go, when you see Lizzie…"

"I’ll tell her to text or call you."

"Thanks mate." I got up and followed Mia.

"It’s just a quick one, how’s the season so far. What they can expect this weekend." she explained and I sighed.

"What they can expect this weekend? I mean… it’s Monza!" I said and she smiled.

"Exactly, it’s Monza." she replied right as I got a text from Lizzie.

"Are we done after the interview?"

"Yeah, we are."

"Good." I said, I replied to Lizzie’s text and then followed Mia the interview, that luckily didn’t take long and thankfully my contractual situation wasn’t brought up.

"That’s it for today then, see you tomorrow." Mia waved at Lizzie when she saw her approaching us.

"Ready to leave?" I asked her and she nodded "Alright, then let’s go."

Friday went well. The practice sessions looked promising, although Carlos found little tenths and hundredths here and there to be slightly quicker than me, so I decided to stay late. Went through the data. Watched my laps again and again. Just to find that little extra bit of performance. And when quali came, I was sure I could put it on pole today. The cheers of the Tifosi around the track elevated me. But it didn’t work out as planned. The lap times weren’t as good as I’d hoped they would be. And by the end of the session I knew it wasn’t enough.

"And that’s P3. Good job."

"Yeah. Congrats to Carlos. He did a good job." I fucked up. Quali. The one thing I used to be good at. And then in Monza out of all places "Where’s Lizzie?"

"P10."

Fuck. At least we would be both in a bad mood tonight then.

I returned to the pits and parked my car, getting out and looked around. Lizzie’s car already in her garage, but no sign of her. I sighed and congratulated Carlos and Max, but couldn’t help looking for Lizzie. I did my interview and when we returned back to the pit lane I walked to her garage.

"Where’s Lizzie?" I asked Pete who talked with Felix and two other engineers.

"Umm- she’s cooling off a little." Pete said and I cocked an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"There was a little situation on track…" Pete said right as Lizzie walked in from the back.

"Hey, what happened?" I walked towards her, seeing her eyes slightly red and swollen.

"I’m stupid. That’s what happened. I drove like a fucking rookie, got a flat spot and fucked up everything for us." she said, he voice bitter "I’m sorry that I wasn’t out there for you…"

"It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay! I was worried there for a second when you were nowhere to be seen…" I cupped her cheek and kissed her gently "Let’s sulk together later on, okay?"

"I’m sorry that you couldn’t put it on pole today… here…" she whispered and I sighed.

"Yeah. It’s like this, I wasn’t good enough today…" I shrugged my shoulders a little.

"You’ll be tomorrow!" she kissed my cheek "And now off you go. Julie waits for me… interview time… yay."

I left as well, making my way back to our garage, getting ready for the interviews myself.

"I love Monza." Charles whispered when we walked back to our garages after the national anthem. The crowd cheering for Ferrari. The hometown hero’s.

"It’s always special here, that’s for sure." I said.

"See you later, cara mia." he said, pulling me into him "Tonight we’ll celebrate."

"You think so?" I mumbled but he nodded.

"Yeah. I know so." he squeezed my waist a little and then left, getting ready for the race.

"Ready?" JK asked, handing me my water.

"Always." I nodded and we walked to my car.

"Lizzie. Ready to show them how to race?" Matt asked, wiggling his eyebrows and I laughed.

"Sure. Let’s put this car on the top step, then?" I chuckled and he nodded.

"That’s the spirit." he grinned as JK handed me my balaclava first and then my helmet.

As soon as I was strapped in I tested everything and gave Matt the all clear.

Formation lap. Aborted formation lap. Another formation lap. Race delay. Formation lap. Race start. This time for real. Lights out and away we go. I had a good start, overtaking Norris and Lewis right at the start. The next three laps and I managed to overtake Oscar. And soon after that I saw an opportunity to go round the inside on Alex, overtaking him in lap 7.

"You’re doing amazing Lizzie. Already P6. Well done." Pete radioed.

"The car is on fire today." I cheered, happy with the performance.

The pit stop was great. 2.2 seconds. I came out right in the anticipated gap. The hard tyres worked amazing and soon after I knocked on George’s door. The gap behind me got bigger with each lap. But I couldn’t catch up to who ever was in front of me.

"Gap to Charles 3.9 seconds." Pete radioed and I looked up at the screens. Watching Charles and Sainz battling hard.

"Are they allowed to battle it out?" I asked.

"Lizzie, focus on your own race and stop watching the screens."

"Sorry…"

I had to chuckle a little, imagining Pete’s annoyed face, shaking his head, forehead wrinkled. I was lost in my thoughts when I saw the checkered flag being waved.

"It’s over?" I asked surprised.

"It’s over. P5! What a race Lizzie! Amazing job!"

"Thanks Pete! Thanks team! The car was amazing today! Amazing pitstop! Awesome guys! Really!" I followed the cars in front back into the pit lane and watched Charles celebrating a little with his team before he made his way towards me.

"P10 to P5! Amazing race, cara mia." he helped me out and when I sat my helmet down he engulfed me in a big hug.

"Sorry that you lost your podium spot. You had more pace in the end, no?" I said but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, but it was a good race! So it’s okay!" he smiled and I nodded following him back to Max and Co.

"Good race, Max, congrats!" I hugged him.

"Thanks Lizzie." he smiled and I nudged Perez a little before I walked inside, getting my weighing done.

"Alright. See you in a bit?" I said to Charles and he nodded, leaving towards the Ferrari garage, while I walked back to mine. Valtteri already waiting for me.

"What a race, kiddo!" he hugged me and I smiled.

"Same for you! P7! 10 positions! Damn!"

"Yeah, I can do good sometimes." he chuckled as we walked inside and I sat down for a moment, watching some race highlights.

"Looked a little heated between Charles and Carlos?" Valtteri asked and I nodded.

"I think they just both wanted that podium damn much." I chuckled as Julie waved me over to follow her out the back of the garage, where a little commotion had formed. I looked up and saw Sainz senior talking with a reporter in Spanish about his son’s amazing weekend and how he did one hell of a job during the race, showing how to tame the Red Bulls. I scoffed and he looked up. He then turned to the reporter again, continuing the praise for his son in English.

"Lizzie? Ready for the media pen?" Julie asked and I nodded, following her, just to hear Sainz senior saying what a shame it was that Charles almost ruined the whole weekend with his reckless driving at the end. Just because he was too greedy and couldn’t accept that his son was simply better this weekend. I wanted to turn around but Julie held my arm and kept walking.

"Ignore him. We all know that this is not what happened, okay? Just calm down!" she whispered and I sighed.

"He’s an asshole." I replied.

"Not gonna argue on this with you." Julie nodded towards the first reporter on the left and I stepped closer.

"You didn’t congratulate Carlos, because he beat Charles?" the first question and I already was done. The reporter from ESPN Spain looked at me, grinning.

"I congratulated the winner, as always. Since when do we have to congratulate the third place? But if you want to put it like that, I didn’t congratulate Carlos because when he had the chance to help Charles, he didn’t do it, he was looking for his own race as always, but then he later complained that Charles didn’t help him by holding up Checo… and then when it was clear that Charles had more pace, he didn’t let him pass, complaining again, not wanting them to let them battle it out, because he knew he wouldn’t win."

"That’s a strong opinion."

"Yep. But it’s my opinion. Period." Was everything I said true? I didn’t know. But I didn’t care. The reporter pissed me off beyond believe and I couldn’t care less.

"Carlos was better the whole weekend and then most of the race, so don’t you think he deserved the podium more?"

"What is this now? Are we talking about Sainz or my race? If you have questions for me about my race and my team, ask them, otherwise, we’re done." I was beyond pissed.

"You couldn’t quite catch up to the Ferraris there, Charles and most definitely Carlos were faster, but did you expect the gap to be this big?" he asked, a fake smile on his face.

"As anticipated, Ferrari was faster, yes. I knew fighting with either one of them would only cost me my tyres so I refrained from doing that, managed my tyres well…"

"You saw the battle between Carlos and Charles in front. Did you think at one point they maybe will take each other out? Opening the door for you?"

"No, they both know how to race, know when to hold back. I didn’t expect anything to happen that’s why I didn’t push."

"Was it right from Charles to attack Carlos like this?"

"We are racing drivers. We want to win. We want to fight for any position. And that’s what that was. They fought for the last spot on the podium. Everyone would’ve done that…" I said.

"Thanks Lizzie."

"Yup." I walked away rolling my eyes "Can I boycott the Spanish media?"

"Unfortunately not. We have another one from Spain, sorry." Julie said, patting my arm as we walked to the next interview.

I watched Charles the whole time, trying to focus on him, instead of the stupid questions. He looked happy. His eyes had this natural spark back, that was missing for some time now. Today was a good day. He had fun. We were about to walk out of the media pen when Charles turned and looked at me, saying something to the reporter and then leaving, coming straight to us.

"Pretty girl." he smiled and kissed me, right in front of everyone.

"What’s gotten into you." I whispered when he let go of me and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I had fun today. Sure, being on the podium would’ve been better. But yeah. It’s like this. And you did amazing!"

"When you’re happy, then I’m happy!" I smiled and he nodded.

"Tomorrow we deserve a little treat…"

"When you’re thinking what I’m thinking…" I smiled brightly.

"Rossella will be happy to see you!" Charles laughed.

"Not as happy as me."

As soon as we arrived in Charles flat in Maranello he had to leave, Ferrari business, leaving Joris and me at the flat.

"Did you see that?" Joris said after a long period of silence and I almost flinched. He showed me his iPad.

"What am I looking at?" I asked sitting up and taking the iPad "You’ve got to be kidding me? No? She did not? Joris look what else she liked?" I was fuming when I saw the Tweets Carlos mother liked. Mostly all targeting Charles. But also some slightly against our family. I threw the iPad on the bed and got up.

"Lizzie? Where are you going?" Joris asked as I was putting on my shoes.

"This family is the worst! They’re fucking toxic! Ugh! I hate them!" I said and walked out of Charles flat, Joris following me.

"I’m not arguing with you on that, but where are we going?" Joris asked again and I got into the car "Lizzie?"

"I’m having a word with Carlos!" I said and turned on the road towards the Ferrari faculties.

"No! NO! Lizzie that’s not a good idea!" Joris pleaded.

"No, Joris it’s enough! Insulting Charles? Nothing new, unfortunately, but now they’re coming for his family? This stops now!" I was fuming.

"Lizzie…" Joris tried again after a while but I shook my head.

"No. I’m sick of them. All of them." I said when I turned onto the driveway leading to the gate "Ciao Antonio! How’s the baby?" I charmed the guard and he smiled at me.

"Oh, he’s doing wonderful! Thanks for asking! What can I do for you, Lizzie?" he smiled at me.

"Charles forgot some of his stuff and he also has my purse!" I lied and Antonio was unsure for a second "I’ll just throw his stuff in his car and get my wallet out, I have a spare key."

"Alright, sure!" he said and opened the gate.

"Thank you! And say Rosa and little Frederico hi from me!" I smiled and drove off.

"Lizzie, please think for a second here!" Joris sighed as I parked next to Charles car.

"I am thinking! But I’ve kept quiet even when the Spanish press tried to provoke me yesterday, even after the things the old man said yesterday standing right behind my back! But it’s enough!" I looked at my phone, checking the last message Charles sent me "He said the last meeting should finish at 4, perfect timing then." It was 15:58.

I kept scrolling through my phone, seeing all the hate there was going on and a new wave of anger hit me when I saw the Tweet from Ferrari, celebrating "the best podium of the season". Charles had won a race with their shit box of a car. Yet the best podium was a P3. I saw Carlos senior and then Carlos cousin walking out, talking and laughing, looking at their phones. Carlos junior walked out behind them, together with his race engineer, who said his goodbye and walked into the building on the right. Mattia walked out with Charles, who looked worried. Charles shook his head and walked then to Xavi and Mia, standing on the left. I took a deep breath, as Mattia walked up to the 3 Carloses.

"Lizzie, please, please, please! Don’t do it! Not here!" Joris pleaded again.

"Here is perfect, no cameras, no public! In the paddock everyone will listen!" I got out of the car, slamming the door shut and walked straight ahead to Carlos. The 4 men looked at me confused but I just smiled.

"Gentlemen, can I borrow Carlos for a moment? Junior!" I said and Carlos nodded and followed me as I walked back.

"What’s up?" his voice was indifferent, his eyes cold.

"Look, you and I, we don’t get along. That’s fine by me. You do you and I do me. All good. But this is going too far, Carlos. I know how Charles is treated by the Spanish media, mostly fuelled by your family, no, I’m not done yet. Criticism against Charles, I can deal with. But your mother, don’t interrupt me. Your mother liking all this nasty tweets, saying he has no honour? He? Out of all people? And the Tweets insulting his family? This doesn’t look good on you! Think about what the Tifosi will think! I’m asking you kindly to tell your mother and your father to stop with this bullshit. This is nothing Ferrari needs now…" I tried to reason with him but he just scoffed.

"What? Now it’s not okay anymore to openly criticise? After you’ve been doing it since last year? Oh right, it’s because now it is against Charles. You use every chance you can get to bad mouth me, but now you come here, telling me to tell my parents what to do, because your boyfriend is being attacked? No, I don’t think so." he sneered and I inhaled deeply to calm myself down.

"Oh, Carlos, you really think you’re living in my head rent free, do you? I’m not using any chance I can get to bad mouth you. I only answer questions that I get asked about you, I never bring you up myself, I don’t have to constantly drag you through the mud. Unlike you. And I never, not once attacked your family or you as a person, only you as a driver. And my criticism was justified, every single time. You and your family on the other hand, you use every opportunity to talk Charles down, now our family. This is why I’m asking you kindly to stop. There is only so little I will tolerate otherwise I’ll speak up myself." I really tried my best to not snap, to be reasonable with Carlos.

"I’m not telling my parents what to do. And we’re done." he said and walked back to his father and cousin, Mattia left. As I looked to the side where Charles stood, I saw Mattia talking to him now as he looked at me, confused. He shook his head and made his way over to me, looking mad.

"What are you doing here Lizzie?" he spoke French. Never a good sign.

"I had to talk to Carlos." I answered.

"What? You can’t just come here? How did you even get in here?" he looked at the car "Joris?" the passenger door opened and Joris walked around the car slowly "Whatever you’re doing here, you gotta go! Mattia is fuming why a driver of a rival team is standing in the courtyard of our facilities! What were you thinking?"

"I had to talk to Carlos." I repeated and Charles groaned.

"Then send him a text! You two. Go. Now! Whatever it is you need to talk with him about, it surely isn’t that important for you getting a reprimand from the FIA!" I looked at him "Yes! Mattia told me, if you’re not leaving immediately he will file a complaint to the FIA. So please, please cara mia, go! Nothing they could’ve said or done is worth the trouble! I don’t care when they say shit about me."

"And what about your mum? Your entire family?" I snapped at the grin on the 3 Spaniards faces.

"What?" Charles looked flabbergasted.

"It’s not just about you anymore…" I began but I could hear Carlos’ cousin laughing, saying something like Il predestinato looks more like Il pathetico.

"What did you just say?" I asked him and ignored Charles pleading look "Say it again." I walked over to them, stopping right in front of him.

"I didn’t say anything to you, I was having a conversation with my family." he said with a fake smile "And if I were you, I would leave now, or do you want to be removed by the security?"

"No one is removing anyone by the security!" Charles said, appearing next to me on my left.

"I heard Mattia clearly saying that if she won’t leave on her own, he will make her." Sainz senior said then he turned back to his son and nephew and continued in Spanish "She should go back in the kitchen and cook her man a meal." they were laughing and I was seething, not wanting to show them that I understood every single word.

"We should state in the new contract that she’s banned from all Ferrari facilities on and off track!" Carlos cousin suggested and my eyes widened, new contract?

"Lizzie, let’s go!" Charles whispered and the three Spaniards laughed.

"He should learn to tame his bitch!" Sainz senior said and I snapped, I turned around and punched my fist as hard as I could into his face, pain erupting in my knuckles. I was shocked, breathing ragged. I turned to my left, apologetic look towards Charles, but he was held back by a struggling Joris. Charles didn’t speak Spanish? Of course puta… almost similar to pute in French.

"Don’t you dare call her a bitch!" Charles face was red "Joris, let go of me!"

"Charles, stop!" Mattia appeared and with him two security guards.

"He’s not calling my girlfriend a bitch!" Charles said to him but Mattia only shook his head.

"Enough! Lizzie, leave the premises now. You’re banned from our facilities from now on." he turned to Sainz senior who was held by Carlos’ cousin, bloody lip and nose, both shooting daggers at me with their eyes, Carlos jr. only stood there looking shocked.

I grabbed Charles hand and pulled him towards the car, pushed him onto the passenger seat, took his car keys out of his pocket and closed the door, the throbbing in my hand getting worse with every second.

"You’re taking the Pista." I threw the keys at Joris who looked at me with big eyes "Joris! You need the car tonight! So please, just drive it!" he nodded and walked off. I spared one last look at the 3 Sainz men and Mattia and got into the car, revved the engine and drove off.

The whole drive to Charles flat was silent. The only sound was Charles staggered breathing. I parked the car and waited, he didn’t say anything. So I got out and waited for him. Back in his flat he left straight into the bedroom and I flinched when the door slammed shut, followed by a loud bang. I stood like petrified in the hallway. After a minute Joris walked in.

"Where’s…" he began but I only nodded my head in the direction of the bedroom and walked into the living room sitting down on the sofa, arms on my knees, head in my hands.

"Are you okay, Lizzie?" Joris asked me and I looked up "You’re really pale? And… oh fuck! Shit! Lizzie!" he almost shouted it and I flinched, the bedroom door opening "Fuck! Charles! We need ice and clean water and…" he ran off into the kitchen and Charles was at the sofa in 3 long strides.

"Oh my god! Lizzie! Why didn’t you say anything?" he kneeled down, gently taking my right hand into his and I looked down. Pain erupting. My knuckles were bruised and bloody. Swollen. Almost unrecognisable.

"Cara mia? Hey? Look at me!" Charles looked at me and I took a deep breath "How much does it hurt?"

"I don’t know? A lot?" I whispered and he kissed my forehead.

"Here, let’s clean it up first. And then… I don’t even know if cooling will help. Charles we should get her to the hospital." Joris said as Charles gently washed the blood away and I flinched and hissed in pain.

"I’m sorry! Almost done, okay?" Charles continued and I felt tears stinging my eyes. He gently wrapped a towel around my hand and put the ice pack on top "We’ll get you to the hospital. No, Lizzie! We can’t risk anything!" he got up and helped me to stand "Come on!"

Charles POV:

"One broken, two sprained… the doctor said the break was in a position where it will heal fast. He said with the right bandage she should be able to drive. Yeah… umm. Yeah, straight in the face. I don’t know, I don’t speak Spanish, but he called her a bitch, that I understood. I don’t know, Pops. Alright, yeah, you too. Love you guys!" I hung up and saw how Lizzie stared down at her heavily bandaged hand "How’s the pain?"

"Manageable." she answered and I sat down next to her "I’m sorry." she whispered and I looked at her "I shouldn’t have come to the facility, shouldn’t talk to Carlos, shouldn’t listen to them. I made it only worse for you. I’m sorry." she sniffled a little and I pulled her in my lap, taking care to not touch her hand.

"You defended me, like a lioness. Don’t apologise for that?" I said and she looked at me with her teary eyes "As long as I have you by my side nothing they say could ever affect me! I should be the one apologising, I didn’t even realise how badly injured you were! I just ignored everything that happened, walked back in here and left you alone while you were in pain and hurt."

"Charles, you don’t have to apologise either… you were mad at me, rightfully so, and then you were a little shocked yourself." she answered and I shook my head.

"Still, the first thing after such an altercation should be checking on my girlfriend…" I mumbled and she kissed my cheek.

"It’s okay, really! But Charles… they- they were talking about a new contract for Carlos…" she whispered and I swallowed hard.

"I don’t concentrate on contracts at the moment, cara mia! That is not important!" I answered and kissed her temple "What else did he say? I know you, you wouldn’t snap when someone calls you a bitch?"

"I’m having more self-control than you then?" she said and I chuckled but I still wanted an answer "First he said I should go home to the kitchen and cook you a meal and then he said that you should learn how to tame your bitch." I looked at her in utter disgust, whole body tensed up.

"The next time I see him, I kick his ass! Fucking asshole!" I was fuming but she laid her healthy hand on my cheek and made me look at her.

"You’re not doing such thing, you show it on track! You’re showing them on track that he will never be as good as you!" I looked at her for a while and then kissed her.

"God, I love you so much, Lizzie!" I mumbled between kisses and couldn’t stop smiling.

"I love you too, my most honourable man!"

I woke up and silenced my alarm immediately, looking over at Lizzie, her hand heavily bandaged propped up on a pillow, dark circles around her eyes, but still she looked like the most beautiful girl to me. I got up quietly and took a shower, dressed up. Ready to face the consequences. Ready to face Mattia and Co. after yesterday. I expected some reprimanding words, maybe even some threats. But I wouldn’t budge. Lizzie shouldn’t have been there, that was true. But everything that happened afterwards? What Sainz sr. said? It all was unacceptable. And I didn’t care what they had to say. I leaned down, kissing Lizzie’s forehead when she stirred a little, her eyes opening slowly.

"Hey…" she mumbled and I tucked a stray strand of hair out of her face "Your up early?"

"Not that early actually. But I gotta go. I need to talk to Mattia and the rest of the team." I whispered and her face scrunched up.

"I’m sorry… for causing so much trouble for you. Right at a time like this." she sounded sad, so I sat down at the edge of the bed.

"You fought for me, Lizzie. I’m not mad or anything! What you did yesterday… how you stood up for me? My- our family? I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I want you to take it easy today, okay? Sleep in. Have a nice breakfast, I prepared you something, lean back and do nothing, okay?" I kissed her hand carefully and she nodded "Alright, I gotta go now."

"Not without a kiss!" she whined and I leaned down, kissing her "Thank you."

"I love you." I whispered against her lips and she smiled.

"I love you more."

"Not possible, but okay." I laughed and got up "I see you later. And really take it easy today, okay?"

"I will! Go now! I want to sleep."

I walked out the bed room chuckling, grabbing my stuff and left.

The moment I entered the premises I knew something was going on. Something I didn’t like. I walked inside the office building, Silvia already waiting for me.

"We have a problem." she said and I sighed.

"Good morning to you too." I pressed out.

"Charles, this isn’t the time for jokes. What Lizzie did yesterday? That will damage our brand massively!" her voice was to shrill for this early at the the day.

"She punched a misogynistic asshole? What’s the big deal? He can be glad that it was Lizzie and not me." I said and Silvia clicked her tongue.

"Yeah well, I’m glad it wasn’t you because I have no idea how we could make this right in the media." she almost hissed and I looked at her.

"Media? Silvia no one knows about it." I rolled my eyes and she scoffed.

"Oh yeah? Well there were some school classes here yesterday… and someone filmed it all…" she began and I took my phone out. It was everywhere. To think no one would find out about it, because it happened in the Ferrari faculties where no one was allowed to film, was wrong. The video was without sound. It looked like Lizzie just had punched him for no reason. The internet going crazy.

"You see? We have to deal with your girlfriend’s wrongdoing!" Silvia said and my head snapped up.

"Wrongdoing? Are you serious? You as a woman should be furious about what he said! I can’t believe you!" I was furious.

"Allegedly said… do you speak Spanish? No. Mattia said they were speaking Spanish. Since when does Lizzie speak Spanish? There is no proof that Señor Sainz said what Lizzie accused him off!" she stated matter of factly and I lost it.

"I WAS THERE TOO. I heard what he said! And I don’t need to speak Spanish to understand the word puta!" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

"Charles. Enough. We have to deal with this now. We have to wait if Sainz Senior will press charges."

"Press charges?" I repeated.

"Press charges."

I swallowed hard. Ridiculous.

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.

"No, not whatever. Mattia is still considering to file a complaint about Lizzie being here in the first place." Silvia said and I took a deep breath.

"I’m only saying this once, Silvia. This ends here. Leave Lizzie alone. Otherwise I’m posting about what really happened. What Sainz said to Lizzie… and then we’ll see what this does to our brand. When you’re backing a misogynist ass." I walked off. Hands trembling.

I didn’t listen properly in any of the meetings. Didn’t look at Mattia, Silvia or Carlos. Didn’t talk to anyone.

"Charles?" Mia waved her hand in front of my face.

"Yeah? Sorry, I was a bist lost there…" I replied and she nodded.

"We’re done for today…" she smiled and I looked around Carlos talking to Mattia and Silvia, the rest of the team gone.

"Finally." I sighed and got up, left before anyone could stop me again. I just wanted to go home. Away from here. Not the first time in the last weeks.

I unlocked the door. The flat was quiet. Only a faint sniffle in the living room.

"Lizzie?" I asked, throwing my keys on the sideboard and walking inside.

She sat on the floor, her back to me, soft sobs making her shake.

"I’m fine…" she sniffled, not turning around.

"What happened?" I whispered and kneeled down next to her but she only shook her head. I gently grabbed her chin and lifted her head up, eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face "Lizzie? What happened?" I looked down at the shattered iPad and glass bottle, droplets of blood on it.

"I’m sorry, Charles! I swear I didn’t want this all to happen!" she whispered and I looked at her confused "It’s everywhere, they’re spinning lies about you now. Many want Ferrari to terminate your contract!"

I took the iPad and read through some articles and comments, although it wasn’t easy with how shattered the screen was.

"I don’t care what they write, okay?" I got up and gently scooped her up, careful to not let her touch the shards on the floor. I walked into the kitchen and sat her down on the island, looked at the cuts on her hand. It wasn’t deep, thank god, I soaked a couple of paper towels and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and stood in front of her, gently wiping the blood away, looking for any shards in the cut. I pad dried it and looked for a band aid. Lizzie sniffled a little then she chuckled and I looked up looking at her questioningly.

"That reminds me of Christmas, 3 years ago…" she whispered and I smiled, the memories replaying in my head "I’m sorry, for being such a mess." I sticked the band aid on the cut and gently cradled her face between my hands.

"But you’re my mess, got it?" I kissed her forehead and she giggled a little "I love you, no matter what they’re writing and no matter what’s going to happen, okay?"

"I love you, too." she whispered and I hugged her close. Never letting her go.

"Ouch!" I huffed out and JK grimaced a little.

"I know it hurts, but if you want to drive in Singapore…" he said, pulling a little at the rubber band.

"I know… but it still hurts like a bitch…" I mumbled.

"I know Liz, but you’re doing great. Really great." JK encouraged me and I clenched my teeth, doing everything to power through with the exercise "Just another 30 seconds and we’re good…" he counted down and as soon as he reached zero he stopped pulling at the rubber band and I let go "Well done."

"You know what’s funny? I don’t even know if I’m allowed to drive…" I said bitterly and JK turned around, looking at me with big eyes "Apparently Mattia and the Sainz clan filed a complain at the FIA. For entering the premises of a rival team. For trespassing. Oh and of course assault…"

"Assault? Because you punched him? Did he pressed charges?" he asked.

"Silvia said to Charles that he’s thinking about it…" I shrugged my shoulders

"What a cunt…" JK let out under his breath and I scoffed a little "I know, I know, not a word for you posh British accent speaker…"

"Very funny!" I threw my hoodie at him when Charles walked in with Andrea, back from their run.

"We never have that much fun training…" Charles grumbled, kissing my cheek "Sorry, I’m sweaty."

"Break your hand and we’ll train it for a bit. Until then, stop whining." Andrea said matter of factly, gently taking my injured hand in his, looking at the fingers "Looks way better…"

"It is. I say I can drive easily next week…" I smiled and he nodded "I mean if I’m allowed to, of course."

"Oh cara mia, stop it. It’s going to be just fine, okay?" Charles sat down next to me and I nodded a little "I told them that if they don’t stop this bullshit, I will release a statement, saying exactly what he said to you… and then they can deal with a new shitstorm."

"You should’ve hit him harder, for what he said, honestly…" JK stated.

"You should’ve kicked his balls." Andrea said and I almost choked on my water.

"Andrea!" I coughed and we laughed.

"He’s right. You really should’ve kicked his balls. Or punch his throat!" JK wiggled his eyebrows.

"Stop it, will ya? Damn!" I laughed.

"Okay, okay!" he held up his hands and chuckled "We’re done for today. I see you guys tomorrow at the airport." he grabbed his bag and left.

"I’m leaving as well. I’m not done packing!" Andrea kissed my cheek and followed JK.

"And then there were only two." Charles said and I sat back down on the sofa "How’s your hand?"

"It’s better. JK did an amazing job! I think driving shouldn’t be a problem." I yawned a little.

"And how’s your back? Don’t look at me like that!"

"It’s fine! I just have to train a little harder! But it’s all good. I’m good. I just want to leave. Stop hiding away. Go to Singapore and race. Maybe crush Sainz on track, but yeah…" I looked at my bandaged hand and Charles carefully took it in his.

"You’ll do great in Singapore. I know it."

"You’ll do better. I know it."

The moment we touched ground in Singapore I wanted to leave immediately. Go back home. Hiding. Fans and journalists were bombarding me with question after question about what happened in Maranello. The interview at one of the biggest radio stations in Singapore had to be stopped because the only question I was asked was why I was at the Ferrari factory and why I just hit Sainz senior. He was a motorsport legend. I should have respect. I returned to the hotel room, falling face first into the pillows. Charles next to me, gently turning me a little.

"Hey." I hummed.

"Hi pretty girl." he whispered "You’re really pale…"

"I’m still having this stupid stomach bug, or have it again? I don’t know… this whole drama is really messing with my appetite…" I sighed, closing my eyes "And I’m getting a headache… I hate this all. I just want to say what really happened. But who would believe me? Who would believe you?"

"Hey, come here." Charles gently pulled me up "I don’t care what is said out there, okay? We know what happened. We don’t care what the rest of the world thinks what happened, okay?"

"Okay…" I whispered.

"What about a nice, hot bath. Something to eat, maybe some mashed potatoes? Rice? Soup. Something light for your stomach? And then we’ll go to bed. We ignore the outside world."

"I really want to ignore the outside world… I’m just afraid they won’t let us ignore it…"

"Well, we don’t give a fuck then!" Charles got up and disappeared into the bathroom, where I heard him starting the bath "Come on now, cara mia. Let’s start ignoring the outside world."

"Ignoring the outside world my ass…" I mumbled after walking away from the second journalist, asking only questions about what happened in Maranello.

"What does that mean?" Julie asked but I shook my head.

"Please tell me I don’t have to go to any Spanish outlet." I pleaded but she looked at me apologetically "Great. Just great."

It was the same reporter like in Monza. I just knew that this wouldn’t end great.

"Lizzie. Lots of drama surrounding you lately." he began and I laughed "Can you maybe tell us why you punched Carlos Sainz senior? It looked like you were having a conversation and then straight up punched him for no reason."

"I don’t run around and punch people for no reason."

"So what made you do it then?"

"He said some not so nice things. And I don’t have to accept everything that’s coming out of his mouth. Although I know that violence never is the answer. I just short circuited and reacted. Which doesn’t make it right, I know, but it happened."

"But what made you short circuit?" he didn’t let go "We all know that you’re rather impulsive. And we also know that you attract drama like no other driver on the grid, just looking at the last months. The rumours about your nephew. Your short temper. An alleged stalker who allegedly tried to kill you. The list goes on…"

I looked at him. Alleged stalker? Allegedly tried to kill me?

"Fuck this shit. I’m done." I left. Didn’t look at Julie. Didn’t look at anyone.

"Lizzie?" Pierre shouted after me but I just kept on walking, leaving the paddock and this whole bullshit behind me.

Chapter 39 - drama, baby, drama! What can I say 🤷🏻‍♀️ Singapore is next… and as we all know what happened in real life… prepare yourself for what’s happening here…

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