Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The coasts of Monaco glittered, skies turning pink as dawn began to creep into the dark sky. Fluffy clouds tinted pink painted the expanse above, contrasting with the dark water lapping against the shore with a roar.

In the heart of the glamorous city, The Prince of Monaco awoke.

Charles Leclerc sat in his bedroom, early morning light filtering through the fancy frilled curtains and casting golden rays on the floor.

He yawned and stretched, kicking the royal maroon covers off of him.

The scent of seasalt and wood hung thick in the air, accompanied by the faint whistling of wind and creak of wood.

Well, today was the day. The day when the royal Dutch family would come to visit, and Charles would meet his bride-to-be.

Charles hadn’t bothered to remember her name, as he was never really into romance.

He couldn’t believe he was just supposed to marry someone he didn’t even know the appearance of.

Charles stood up and walked to get a fresh pair of clothes. A stupid, fancy suit and dress shoes would do.

A royal blue tailcoat hugged his torso, running down his body where it meant cream trousers. Beneath the tailcoat and showing where it was unbuttoned lay a pale undershirt that matched his pants. At the top of the blouse was a black bow tie that wrapped around his neck. Shiny black shoes rested on his feet, glistening in the sunlight.

Charles entered the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. 

Once he looked decent enough, he went back into his room and sat down at his grand piano.

But, before he could even press the keys, a knock came through the large door. “Prince Charles, it’s time for breakfast!”

Charles recognized the voice to be one of the maids. “Coming, Ma’am.” Charles opened the bedroom door with a creak! and followed her through the large castle to the dining hall.

His family was already at the table, besides his brother, Lorenzo, who had left long ago to be married, and his father who had passed years before.

Charles’ other brother, Arthur sat at the table, picking at his bread rolls and olives. Steaming tea laid next to his plate, untouched.

“Morning.” Charles greeted his family, sitting down in an elevated wooden chair with an intricate backing.

His gaze swept over the large array of food, consisting of pastries, fruits such as lemons and olives, and a selection of other delights the chefs had prepared. The warm, delicious smell of the food flooded Charles’ senses before he began to fill his plate. 

“Charles, as you know, you’ll be meeting your future wife today.” His mother began.

Arthur snorted.

Charles froze. Shit! He thought. I still can’t believe I have to do this shit… “Uhh… yeah, ma.”

“Her name’s Victoria, she’s a very pretty woman.”

Charles nodded. “Aanddd… when is she coming?”

“Around noon. She’ll be arriving with her father and older brother. You two might get along.” Charles' mother pushed an empty plate to the side, the action admitting a loud scrape! in the hollow room. “Remember, Charles, this is for the ties between our kingdoms. This meeting must go perfect.”

Suppressing a groan, Charles gave his mother another nod. 

When Charles was little, he never really saw himself running away with some princess, and nor did he now.

Romance seemed almost… bland. No matter who or what Charles had imagined, finding love never was appealing to him. But, alas, this was for his kingdom.   

For the rest of the day, Charles was bombarded by the attention and fussing of maids and his mother. 

Apparently Charles had to look absolutely perfect for his first meeting with the Dutch princess, even though she’d supposedly be the person who’d wake up next to him when he’s messy-haired and tangled in sheets, or just not looking flawless.

By the time noon came, a new feeling set over Charles that he hadn’t expected. Nervousness. Not the I’m-about-to-ask-out-my-crush kind, no. The do I really want this? type of nervousness.

Charles sat himself on his throne next to the larger one of his mother, and the smaller seat of his brother. 

The seat back displayed a complicated design with swoops and swirls, resembling waves. The armrests spiraled inward at the end, while the legs were straight but elegant.

Arthur had been teasing his older brother the whole day, and now was now different. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at Charles, the afternoon light filtering through the grand windows highlighting the mischievous tilt of his lips.

Charles bit back a groan, instead rolling his eyes at the younger, who backed off when their mother barked at him.

Situating himself on the wooden chair, Charles rested his forearms on the sides, hands gripping the smooth walnut until his knuckles turned white. Meanwhile, his legs crossed, one knee bouncing slightly.  

The fabric of Charles’ suit rubbed against his skin, almost too tight with its perfectly tailored dimensions. 

Charles felt like a character in a play… too perfect, too fake.

Like a porcelain doll: flawless hair, well tailored suit, and an overall appearance that screamed try-hard.

Eventually, a loud trumpet sounded outside, muffled by the walls of the castle. Charles perked up, straightening his posture before his mother could scold him on it.

The sound of horses hooves thundering against dirt grew louder, followed by the low creak of large wooden doors sliding open. Sea air rushed in, tainting the room’s atmosphere salty.

Two soldiers dressed in Prussian blue suits stepped in, bowing before standing up straight with a clunk of their weapons and armor. Their bodies bracketed the door as a woman Charles assumed to be Victoria walked in.   

Victoria was dressed in a soft pink corset that clenched tightly around her chest. A large puffy skirt of a slightly darker color fluttered around her legs, a similar fluff lining her arms. Pristine white gloves coated her hands, while golden pointed shoes would show under her dress whenever she took a step. Atop her head lay a peony bonnet that covered part of her blonde hair that ran down her back.

Yes, Victoria was pretty, with her royal dress and pale blue eyes, but it didn’t make Charles feel anything.   

Charles’ gaze flickered to the tall man next to her, covered in a fancy black suit with a white collar and large ebony hat.  

Then, Charles diverted his attention to the younger man beside Victoria and…

Fuck.  

Charles’ jaw dropped. It pretty much fell to the floor.  

The boy has pretty blonde hair, styled to perfection and swooping over his gorgeous blue eyes the color of the Dutch sea. He wore a pale mint undershirt with a delicate golden and sea green design, framed by a sage coat patterned at the wrists. All the way down the placket on both sides lay floral marks that shone gold. The same shade that his coat was mirrored on his pants, folding in at the ends where fabric met black leather boots with a heel.

And holy fuck heat rushed to Charles’ face faster than a race horse, igniting an inferno beneath his skin.

A million different feelings Charles didn’t even know existed flooded his every nerve, overwhelming him.

Shit, this was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

Charles just stares at the blonde boy, unable to look away as the Dutch family steps further into the castle. 

The announcement from a guard: “Please welcome the Dutch Royal Family to Monaco!” goes in one ear and out the other, completely irrelevant when the prettiest boy Charles had ever seen is just standing there, bathed in sunlight that illuminates his hair and perfect face.

Arthur looked like he was about to sob out laughter at the sigh of Charles’ flushed cheeks.   

Charles’ mother stood to great the Dutch king, meanwhile Arthur was staring at his brother while laughing his ass off.

And, Charles knew siblings would tease crushes, but this seemed overdramatic. And also, Arthur believed Charles was in the state he was for Victoria, not her devastatingly handsome brother.

“Charles, Arthur!” His mother’s voice snapped Charles’ out of his trance. “This is Jos,” She gestured to the tallest man; the father of the two. “Victoria,” She smiled at the woman dressed in pink. “And Max,” She pointed at the tall blonde boy.

Max   

Yep, that name was going to be echoing in Charles’ head for eternity.

“C’mere, boys. Come and meet your future family-in-law!” Charles’ mother summoned the boys with a flick of her hand.

Charles stumbled forward, trying to calm his red face as he shook hands with Jos. Next, Charles felt uneasy while kissing Victoria’s hand. Then, he felt a strong hand gripping his. Max shook Charles’ hand, grip warm and soft, gorgeous blue eyes boring into his.

Charles’ flush immediately returned, a stammered jumble of noises escaping him. “N-nice to uhhh… meet you, Max.” The name rolled off his tongue perfectly, like a sacred prayer.

Max giggled, lips twitching up.

Oh that giggle and that smile. Charles wanted to sink into the ground as a flustered wheeze escaped his suddenly dry throat.

“Nice to meet you too, Charles.” Max’s voice rolled out with a chuckle, Dutch accent thick and oh so alluring.

Fuck, that accent…

“G-good. Thanks.”  

Victoria seemed completely uninterested in Charles, instead picking at a stray thread on her dress.

Charles was doing the same; completely ignoring the other while keeping his full attention on Max.

“S-so… what do you think of me marrying your sister?” The question was stupid, but Charles just wanted to keep the conversation going.

“I mean, I want her to be happy,” Max began. “and if she’s with a boy as pretty as you, that shouldn’t be hard.”

Charles nearly combusted on the spot. A strangled noise escaped him, Victoria’s frustrated huff at her brother’s words going completely unnoticed to the flustered Monegasque.

”P-pretty?” Charles squeaked. “I—you’re prettier.”

FUCK. WHYDIDISAYTHATWHYDIDISAYTHATWHYDIDI— 

A blush similar to Charles’ spread across Max’s face, leaving both the boys flustered and staring.

“ARTHUR, WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!” The sharp voice of the Monegasque queen shook Charles and Max out of their shared trance. She’s glaring at her youngest son, who is… attempting to eat a piece of wood chipped from the floor..? “No eating parts of the castle!”

Max snorts. It’s adorable. Charles dies again.

“Is this… normal?” Max asked, hiding his obvious grin with his hand, but his eyes shimmer and crinkle endearingly at the edges.

Charles could only stare at the Dutch boy’s pretty face before forcing himself to respond. “You’d be… surprised.” He let out a weak chuckle, glancing over to where his mother had approached Arthur, scolding him with wild hand gestures.

“D’ya got a garden?” Max’s sudden question caught Charles off guard.

“Y-yeah… why?” Charles looked back to Max, immediately getting lost in the oceans that were his eyes.

“Wanna escape this mess?” Max offered gently, face flushing a slightly deeper pink.

Almost gasping, Charles nodded. “Y-yeah. That sounds great.” He scanned the grand doors for an escape, before Charles got another idea. “Follow me. And don’t worry, we don’t need to sneak out.” Charles grinned, leading Max to the front entrance.

Charles told a story to the guards of how his mother had instructed the boys to get to know one another, and go to the garden to do so. The men bought it surprisingly easy, letting the two young princes by without restraint.

While Charles is still confused about the storm of emotions inside him, he’s also kind of thrilled. Thrilled by the feelings, the circumstance of everything, and mostly, Max.

As Charles and Max exited the castle, the Monegasque knew that this trip to the garden would either be a huge disaster or wonderful experience, but either way, at least he was with Max.

Chapter Text

As soon as Charles leads Max out of sight of the soldiers, he feels a warmth in his palm.

His breath hitched; Max was holding his hand.   

Barely registering his movements, Charles led Max around the palace to the garden, their hands still clasped together.

The chill of the autumn breeze around Charles was a stark contrast to the heat of the hand clasped around his. Their sleeves brushed against one another, the close proximity making heat spread inside.

Charles pushed open the metal gates, the material cool under his free hand as it let out a squeak!

“Anything specific you’d like to see?” Charles asked, turning around to look into Max’s beautiful eyes.

Max shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. As long as I get to spend time with you.”

That familiar heat flooded Charles’ cheekbones, a breathless giggle of giddiness spilling from his parted lips.

“O-okay.” He held Max’s fingers tighter, leading him to a small orchard of small trees with broad pale trunks and spearhead-shaped green leaves sprouting from branches. “This is called the Carob Tree. It’s quite common here in Monaco.”

Max nodded eagerly, those beautiful, focused eyes lighting up with curiosity as he ran his gaze along the line of trees filling his sightline.

Charles led Max around, hands entwined, going on about the different flowers, trees, and bushes native to his country.

“You’ve got quite a knack for plants, yeah?” Max grinned, eyes crinkling in an endearing manner.

Nodding eagerly, Charles led Max to the next plant.

“Yeah… botany has always interested me for some reason. Spent a lot of time out here as a kid.” Charles explained as he watched Max observe a pretty purple bellflower.   

Max leaned down and picked the flower before straightening up once more. He placed the flower behind Charles’ ear, hand lingering there.

Breath hitching, Charles’ face heated up at the simple but affectionate gesture of the Dutch man.   

Charles grinned like an idiot, fingertips gently brushing the delicate, soft petals of the purple flower. “Merci, Max.” The French spilled from Charles’ lips, hoping Max would understand the foreign language.

Max returned Charles’ lopsided smile, reluctantly removing his hand from the other man’s warm cheek. “Graag gedaan, Charles.”

Charles could only assume that “Graag gedaan” meant “Thank you” in Dutch, and he made sure to memorize the phrase and hopefully get to say it to Max and impress him.

“It’s a shame it’s autumn… there are so many other pretty plants I wish I could show you.” Charles sighed, glancing around the garden bathed in orange, yellow, and red leaves. “I’m even surprised these bellflowers have survived in this season.”   

Max nodded in agreement, the afternoon light catching the golden flecks in his eyes which made Charles go insane.   

As Max glanced around the area, Charles got lost in the Dutch boy’s eyes.

When Max caught Charles staring, he chuckled and grinned wider. “See something you like?”

Charles’ face reddened, and quickly turned his head away. “No…”

Max rolled his eyes, smiling, before shifting the subject. “I’m getting hungry.” He stated, holding Charles’ hand tighter.

“Uhh… the chefs are making a big dinner to welcome your family.” Charles finally met Max’s gaze again, face having cooled down just slightly.

“I mean, I don’t really want to leave the garden.” Sighing, Max ran his gaze around the sun-bathed area. “I like it out here, with you.” 

Charles felt a warmth spread through his chest despite the cool breeze whistling past him, eyes softening in sympathy. “I… yeah, same.” He nodded, shoes shuffling in the dirt beneath him. The fresh, earthy scent of the bellflower tucked on his ear filled his nostrils, mixing with soil and the warm musk of Max.

“Let’s just go inside for now. I mean, we’ll have plenty of time to spend together, as you are marrying my sister.” The genuine smile on Max’s face faded to something weak, unhappy.

The reminder of Charles’ arranged marriage made him feel sick to his stomach, replacing the comforting warmth that had flooded him just moments before. He had completely forgotten about Victoria and their upcoming wedding while in the presence of Max. The Dutch prince made everything… easier. Lighter. Charles didn’t want to abandon that feeling. Not yet. But, alas, Charles didn’t know what other option he had in the present moment.

Charles stared into Max’s irises, seeing sadness and… regret? The Monegasque was already confused by his own emotions, and now Max’s feelings only added to the dizzying storm in his brain. From the moment the two had escaped the castle, every negative and heavy thought and feeling had completely evaporated from his head. But now, as their private moment was ending with even more thoughts filling his brain, Charles felt those thoughts from before coming back, with even more contemplations plaguing his frontal lobe.

“But, yeah.” Charles finally spoke, glancing at the darkening skyline before turning back to Max. “A warm dinner sounds nice right about now.”

Max nodded, squeezing Charles hand. “Yes, it does. Ready to go?”

Charles squeezed back. “Yep.”