Chapter Text
Charles grew up a happy child.
He was lucky to be born into his family, never having to worry about a place to sleep, eating meals, or much at all. He was born most healthy, and he would live the safest life out of all his brothers. He didn’t have to worry like Lorenzo, who was cursed with being the eldest, having to take over as King after their father’s sudden death three years ago. Arthur, despite being the youngest, excelled in the military. Every crusade, every battle, and every day, he had to worry about whether he would return home to sharp roads, narrow coastlines, and grand buildings in Monaco. Despite barely being eighteen, Arthur lived his life. With the burdens from his father’s past, Lorenzo picked up the pieces and lived his life. Hervé, their mother, watched from a distance. She had stepped back in her power, spending her days sewing, shopping, and being content with her family in their small island province of Monaco.
Unlike his brothers, Charles didn’t have those worries. Beauty was a curse, and so was being the middle child. The expectations for Charles seemed simple enough; to marry. Suitors had looked at him since he was seven, waiting for him to “blossom” and hit puberty so they could marry him. His family understood the expectation of Charles when he turned eighteen, but they hit him with perverted and intentioned suitors. Charles was hidden from the outside world, growing up within the walls of his grand palace. He spent his days sewing, reading, drawing, playing the piano, picking flowers, and being tutored to be the perfect husband. Charles had enjoyed his childhood, and while having good memories, he wished for that liberation. While his brothers got to leave, Charles would be trapped within the walls of his palace, learning with other men and women in his standing about being a respectful spouse, or learning an instrument or learning another cross stitch. Charles cannot count the thousands of cross stitches he has; it’s a rather absurd amount.
An adventure and that was a liberal usage of the word.
But Charles knew he wasn’t like the courageous, mature, older Lorenzo or the younger cocky, but adorable and brave Arthur. He was the fair, beautiful, and kind Charles. Charles could play the harp, sing a folk song, make clothes, and be the pretty little husband, only known for his beauty and who his husband was, not who he was. Charles wouldn’t hurt a fly and wouldn’t speak out—an obedient, beautiful bird trapped in a cage.
Once Charles turned eighteen, the suitors that had admired him in his childhood came back, asking for his hand in marriage. With all of the expensive gifts and lavish dates to prove their worth, Charles had spent most of his days with suitors. It wasn’t what he wanted, and he knew that he didn’t want to be married off, taken away from his room, only to be used as someone pretty.
At those lavish parties held for suitors, Charles would be situated in the corner with a suitor who wanted “privacy” with the “beauty of Monaco”. With the music and chatter in the back, Charles would look down and sip into his drink, the suitor whispering into his ear how’d he deflower Charles, keeping him as a pretty wife, full of his seed consistently.
It made Charles’s skin crawl, but he’d look up and see Herve, his mother, smile brighter than the sun. She hadn’t smiled that big since Hervé had died. Her wish had been for Charles to marry and have a family, and that idea was solidified after Hervé’s death.
If it made his mother happy, it made Charles happy. Just to see her happy made Charles smile.
Even if it wasn’t true.
Eventually, Hervé had found the perfect suitor for Charles, Carlos Sainz Jr of the Sainz Family of Madrid. He had fit all of the boxes that Hervé wanted for Charles; strong, handsome, smart, and most importantly; worthy of Charles.
Carlos, from the start, was in love with Charles. He had confessed that he had always admired the prince since he was younger. Carlos showered Charles in lavish gifts, such as silk shirts and perfumes. Every Friday, Charles would get a new vase of red roses, and would add them to his growing collection. Carlos always found a way to take Charles outside of Monaco on a private, yet lavish date.
When Carlos would touch him, hold his hand, or compliment him, Charles would blush and smile.
He tried to love Carlos, but he couldn’t.
When Carlos had proposed, Charles felt his world crash down. Everyone had stopped dancing. Even behind their Masquerade masks, he could see every pair of eyes on him. Just as his breath heaved, he looked for his brothers and mother.
Hervé stood in the crowd, as beautiful as ever in a diamond necklace and golden dress. Lorenzo softly smiled, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Arthur stood on the other side, holding his mother’s hand. She looked at Charles, her eyes sparkling, with a wobbling smile.
Charles said yes, and she burst into tears. It was the happiest she had been since Pascale’s death.
That night, Charles hadn’t remembered sobbing that hard since his father’s death
The summer in Monaco flew by, as the Fall approached, so did Charles’s wedding. Charles dreaded the upcoming wedding. His nineteenth birthday was around the corner, and he had fulfilled his time with classes and tutors preparing him for his marriage, his wedding night, his honeymoon.
The idea made Charles sick.
Before he had to leave for Spain and be held in his golden cage, Charles spent the best time he could in Monaco. He did what he loved; sewed, played the harp, drew, tended to his vegetable garden, explored the coastline with his brothers, and sucked in every last freedom he could take.
Trouble had been brewing in the North near the Netherlands. The Netherlands had been infamous all over Europe. Conquerors, brutes, murderers, savages, monsters ; the list had gone on. The Verstappens ruled with an iron fist, noting their rule far and wide, taking POWs and turning them into indentured servants and laborers. As a child, Lorenzo would tell Charles and Arthur tales of the De Leeuwens. Lorenzo now tells those stories to their children. They were the boogeymen to the children of Monaco.
And yet, the Netherlands was Monaco's biggest trader. Monaco relied on them more than they did, which was becoming an increasing issue.
De Leeuwen , in response to Monaco promising to send gold and then backing out, demanded the soldiers they had been asking for since the winter. Lorenzo had decided that it was best to go to the Netherlands, to stand face to face with De Leeuwen, rather than send another apologetic note.
“Let me go with you!” Arthur had cried.
Lorenzo had let out a huff, spinning in his heel, “Brother, you cannot go. You must stay, keep hold of Monaco for me.”
“Monaco has walls! We are an island! They are dumb brutes!” Arthur responded back, “Let me show him! Let me tell that monster not to mess with the Leclerc’s, or Monaco. Lorenzo, let me. Please .”
Charles had watched from a window as Lorenzo whisked Arthur away to comfort his sobbing mother, begging for him not to leave. Charles had already said his goodbye’s, focused on Lorenzo kissing his wife goodbye. He saw his lips move as he placed one hand on her pregnant stomach, and another on his daughter’s head.
Within the week, news had returned that Lorenzo was being held hostage in the Netherlands by De Leeuwen. Charles had remembered getting the letter and showing it to his mother and Lorezno’s wife. Hervé couldn’t handle the stress and bursted into tears, locking herself in her room. The same was said for Lorezno’s wife. She had fainted from the stress, and doctor’s kept her monitored, fearing that she could lose the baby from the sheer anxiety and stress from the situation.
This could not go on for any longer. Arthur had declared that while it was a family matter, Lorenzo’s life was also dependent on Monaco. With a few close soldiers and sailors, Arthur would travel to the Netherlands to retrieve his brother. Dee Leeuwen had left no kindness in his letter, and time was only running out.
“…The lack of incompetence is making time only go faster. Unless a compromise or practical arrangement is to be made, then I can assure you that Lorenzo Leclerc will be fed to the Sharks. Even they will be treated better than Monaco has ever treated the Netherlands…”
Charles had held the letter. Seeing his family broken in this state was enough for him to put his foot down.
He was going to the Netherlands. This monster couldn’t tear his family apart. Something was to be done.
On the ship to Amsterdam, Charles had paid sailors and childhood friends, Pierre and Esteban, to smuggle him onto the boat. Charles rested in their quarters below as Arthur stayed on top with his men, planning every way to make sure this battle would not turn bloody.
Charles, of course, had to pay a price for sailing.
Esteban and Pierre, albeit lovely, had a tall price since if Charles was found, they would be executed.
Looking out into the dark sea, with the tears in the distance, Pierre sat in bed with a naked Charles. There was no touching of course, Pierre had loved Charles for a long time, ever since they were little. Pierre simply wanted to hold Charles, and see the true beauty of him. It had been awkward at first, but Charles was fine to pay the price.
“You don’t love Carlos, no?” Esteban had asked, taking a sip from his ale. He had sat at a small table across with a small candle with Charles laid against the headboard with Pierre. Pierre had slung an arm around Charles, holding his naked body close. Charles found serenity in Pierre.
He didn’t love him, but his presence comforted him.
Charles sighed and shook his head, “I do not.”
“But why?” Pierre questioned, “He treats you well. He buys you nice gifts. He loves you, mon amie.”
“But he loves me for what I am! Not who I am!” Charles passionately responded.
Esteban titled his head like a cat, “So he loves you for what you can give him? Like…?”
“Power, money, children. He wants to deflower me-“ Charles cringed at the throat and sunk in. Carlos’s greedy hands, the bruising, it was too much. The thought of it had been overwhelming, causing Charles to burst into tears.
Pierre held Charles close, wrapping his burly arms around him. He stroked his soft skin, letting Charles cry.
“He won’t hurt you,” Pierre promised, “Not with me.”
“Or me. Or your brothers,” Esteban added on, “Charles, we are your guards. We will always stay.”
Charles sniffled, thanking them for their kindness. They smiled, hugging their childhood friend in return.
The three shared a meal and Charles had gotten dressed into one of Pierre’s loose peasant shirts. He leaned against the wall, looking out onto the abyss. He assumed Pierre and Esteban were asleep, which he was wrong about.
Pierre leaned onto Charles' side, admiring Charles from an unrequited yet respectful distance.
“Why did you want to come to the Netherlands?”
Charles didn’t look back, instead letting out a low sigh.
“To save my brother.”
“And how will you do that?”
Charles had read over De Leeuwen’s letter thousands of times. He closed his eyes, holding in that sigh. Being calm was the only thing that would get him to tomorrow when they arrived.
“Only time will tell.”
-
That night Charles dreamed of De Leeuwen. In Front of him lay his family, all bloodied and stained. Charles had been forced by a hand, holding up his hair, to look at all of the blood around him. De Leeuwen had proceeded to carry Charles over his shoulder, who was sobbing from his death, carrying him to some unknown and horrible fate. What did he look like? Who was he? Why was he in Charles' mind?
Charles woke up that night, silently containing his sobs.
He thought of his family and how each of them, even Hervé, had something to go back to.
Lorenzo had his wife, his daughter, and a baby boy on the way, not to mention a kingdom. Arthur had a kingdom to protect, a life to live, and a potential maid to woo and marry. Hervé had her grandchildren and her achievements, earning the rest after so many hard years.
Charles had nothing to go back too, and nothing to lose.
-
Intentional or not, Charles didn’t remember the morning or afternoon of that day. The ship had docked onto shore, avoiding the main ports and cities, trying to hide within the trees. However, this strategy had failed. The Verstappens, with the help of the Horners, had ambushed their fleet. Arthur and his men were separated from Pierre, Esteban, and Charles. They had escaped through a window behind the boat, letting the cold and harsh river take them away.
Esteban had fallen, cutting the side of his leg with an arrow thrown at them. Cold and injured, the three lumped through the forest. They were being hunted, and Charles knew that feeling. He held close to the letter from De Leeuwen, the feeling of fear weighing in his chest. He looked behind him at every corner, feeling the presence of him around him.
All of those childhood stories of De Leeuwen and the Red Bulls had seemed too far-fetched to exist.
But they did, and it hit Charles as he walked in the dark forest, clothes dripping as he and Pierre carried an injured Esteban.
The blood or water must have given their position away, as a few hours later, they were caught. Pierre fought back, and so did Charles, but they stopped. The guards had spit at them, threatening to kill Esteban if they hadn’t stopped. Esteban was hiding the true severity of his injury, and the more he bled, Charles knew he would die.
As they trudged through the woods, with bright torches and dark guards around them, Pierre snuck behind Charles and nudged his shoulder. Charles looked up, feeling Pierre’s hot breath against his ear.
“What are you planning to do?”
“Do with what?” Charles whispered back.
“Do with this,” Pierre responded, “Your brothers, your family, everything is on the line. We are being taken to De Leeuwen , and we most likely will not survive.”
Charles bit his hip, “That is not true-“
“Then what will you do? You told me you had a plan-“
“I do-“
“But will it-“
Arthur’s scream was enough to make Charles lookup. Pierre did as well, both full of worry. Charles felt his whole heart drop, and he was pushed by the guards to move forward. Down the road they went was full of burning candles, eventually leading them to a circular garden, surrounded by dark trees and wooden architecture.
Lorezno was in the middle, his hands tied to his back. He had been pushed to the ground, circled by two guards with axes, as if they were birds and Lorenzo was the meat. Lorenzo laid on his side, coughing up dirt. Charles saw the mess of his brothers, dried blood on his shirt, and dripping from his lip.
Pierre and Charles were forced to their knees, seeing the display occuring. Charles saw Esteban in the corner and Arthur and his men in the other corner, openly struggling against the guards restraining them. The guard’s held their axes and spears, waiting for the opportunity to use them. The sharp end of the spear was held to Charles and Pierre’s back.
As Lorenzo laid on the ground coughing and hacking, guards taunting and laughing, the laughter and coughing soon faded. Footsteps emerged into the circle, bearing towards an injured Lorenzo. The guards that surrounded Lorezno stopped laughing and moved back, standing straight.
Charles knew- it was De Leeuwen.
De Leeuwen was not some horrid figure or ugly monster, but a young man. Dark blonde, sharp blue eyes, and a focused face, he was dressed in heavy fur and dark clothes. Charles couldn’t rip his eyes again, as much as he couldn’t bear to watch.
Lorenzo looked up at De Leeuwen, who looked down at him, all ominous and dark.
“You know that old saying, right? The one about promises?” De Leeuwen spoke, circling the older Monégasque. Lorenzo, through his panting, looked down, refusing to make eye contact with the standing man. He made an attempt to stay strong, despite his physical and mental exhaustion.
Charles saw De Leeuwen’s cold and harsh stare down at his brother. He kicked Lorenzo’s side and kicked him onto his back, forcing him to look up. Charles let out a gasp, nearly choking on his breath. Lorenzo had let out a scream of pain, and Charles saw the dried blood on his side. It wasn’t new, but the stain was larger; and he knew it would grow, fester, and eventually infect. Charles would hear the yelling coming from Arthur, but hype focused on the interaction between his brother and this fear rigured, trying to separate his rapidly beating heart,
“There, now you look at me,” De Leeuwen confirmed, a foot on his chest, “What is the saying?”, as he pressed harder on his chest, “Tell me.”
“Don’t keep p-promises,” Lornezo coughed blood, but then looked back up at the man with no fear in his eyes, “Don’t make promises y-you can’t k-keep.”
With a satisfied hum, the standing man took his foot off of Lorenzo’s chest, but continued to circle him. He looks back to hear Arthhur cursing and threatening him, but he ceases to pay attention.
“You did the opposite of that, no?” He said, stopping to look down at the injured older man, “You gave me a promise of resources; men, gold, everything . But what did we get? Nothing . All we got were letters, each full of different excuses.”
“ We tried-”
“And you failed. You lied. You kept no promise and delivered us with nothing,” De Leeuwen angrily interrupted. His anger was unleashed as he violently kicked Lorenzo, most notably in the place of his wound. Lorezno bit his lip, trying to look strong, but he was cracking. He tried to stand and crawl, but he couldn’t.
As Lorenzo attempted to crawl away, he was stopped, and rekicked to be on his back. He looked up at the dark sky, and the figure towering over him. De Leeuwen pulled out a Carolingian sword, sharp and shiny. He aimed it towards the wound, a small (and evil) smile coming to his face.
Charles, seeing his older brother so helpless and his younger one screaming on the verge of tears, not only upset him, but filled him with a new emotion. It was powerful and unpredicted, one he had surly felt before; but not his unkempt. His breathing increased, his heart pounded as if he were to burst, and his fists clenched at the sight in front of him, the screaming and pleading as background noise.
Lorenzo tried to struggle, but his body refused.
“My family, my wife-”
“Does not matter to me,” He once again interrupted, as the sword slowly pierced into the dry wound, fresh blood spilling onto his white peasant shirt, “Those who do not deliver do simply not stand.”
At that moment, Charles didn’t remember standing. He didn’t remember Pierre screaming to stand down, he didn’t remember throwing the handful of dirt at De Leeuwen, and he most definitely did not remember being tackled and screaming at De Leeuwen to stop. Him, De Leeuwen himself. Charles panted with the side of his face in the dirty and unforgiving hands grabbing at his thin limbs (which would bruise). He saw footsteps leave his brother and approach in front of him.
He closed his eyes, bracing for the worst.
“Let him go.”
The guards, who held on tight, froze their heavy breathing.
“But sir, he is threat-”
“When did I ask for your opinion,” He spat, “Let me repeat myself; what did I say to do?”
None of the guards verbally responded, but they dropped Charles to the ground. Charles sighed and he let his limbs fall down to his sides. He rested in the dirt and clenched his fists, attempting to catch his breath. He had just remembered the occurrence of events, just as fast as they happened. From what he understood, De Leeuwen stood in front of him, and Charles knew that his time on his earth would most likely be finished.
Charles heard Arthur and Lorezno call his name, but he ignored them, trying to prepare for his incoming fate.
Instead of a sword, De Leeuwen got on one knee and looked down at Charles. His wild curls are a spread mess, his clothes dirty and ruffled, and in an overall vulnerable and helpless state.
Charles got a better look at De Leeuwen, especially his piercing blue eyes, which burned right into his mind.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” The man asked in a thick accent. Instead of sounding angry or accusatory, he sounded intrigued. Curious, even.
Charles was taken back. Yes, he was scared, but he somehow wasn’t afraid. Pushing his upper body up, he stared right back at De Leeuwen, with his cold blue eyes, his light green eyes, and furrowed eyebrows.
“Charles Leclerc, prince of the Monaco province. My kingdom got word that you were holding Lorezno hostage. We responded by sending Arthur and his men, but I chose to come beca-”
As Charles explained himself, Arthur’s ranting came through.
“Brother, stop talking!” Arthur cried, as he struggled with the guards holding him, “You’ll get yourself killed! Don’t talk or look at that monster!”
Dee Leeuwen spun his head around and barked at one of his guards.
“Get someone to shut him up, now!”
After that quick fit of rage, Dee Leeuwen looked back at the Monégasque prince, who laid in front of him, angrily staring him down. He didn’t even get a chance to speak before Charles beat him to it.
“I came because I wanted to take my brother home. He needs to be in Monaco, not here, dealing with silly politics.”
The blue eyed monster, or so Charles mentally nicknamed him, rubbed his chin and subtly picked with his lower lip.
“You think this is silly? You think resources for our kingdom are just some little game? What point did you come here to prove?”
Just as he were to leave, Charles gained the courage to say what he had built up.
“I came to prove not to you, but my family, and how important they are to my kingdom. My brothers, both of them, must go back to Monaco. They have obligations, families,and important needs not intended to. Lorenzo must maintain Monaco on his own, all while dealing with a growing family. His wife is pregnant with his child, and she is soon to have her baby. Monaco and his family, especially his unborn daughter, are waiting for him.
“Arthur also maintains Monaco, not from within the kingdom, but he must build an army and protect it. Arthur is not even an adult yet, yet he takes on the responsibility of one; giving up everything from his boyhood in the name of Monaco's protection.”
“Both of my brother’s are reliant on Monaco's wellbeing. Without them, our kingdom would not exist. Both of them not only have duties, and livelihoods, to return to. Let them go, please.”
Arthur and Lorezno begged and screamed at Charles, telling him to stop and step away from the matter. Charles closed his eyes, holding back the tears forming in his eyes.
De Leeuwen didn't respond violently. He looked down at Charles, who while vulnerable, had let out himself. He stroked his chin, with his men coming behind him, whispering all kinds of advice in his ear. His Monégasque prince was captivating, physically and mentally. There was much to be done with him.
He held his hand back, a signal for his soldier to shut up and let him think. As he rubbed his chin, he looked down at the prince and stared for a few seconds in admiration of his features before speaking.
“If I let them go, then what do we gain? Monaco, nor your brothers, have kept to their promises of trade. They have broken my trust, and the trust of my clan, and our allies. What is the point of keeping around those who cannot keep?”
Charles looked around and his surroundings. He looked at Pierre, whose sad eyes begged him to stop. Esteban was lying in the corner, paining his face from Charles' words and his words. Lorezno was screaming with sadness and Arthur raged; pleading with him to come to his senses and stop.
Finally, he looked back at De Leeuwen, reconnecting their eyes.
“You gain me,” Charles responded, “Let them go home, and take me instead. I have nothing to go back to. I don’t want to go back if Moanco is at risk. I will stay here, and make sure trade is strong between us. I will be a reminder.”
“Charles!” Lorenzo yelled, “Carlos, think of him. Think of your mother!”
De Leeuwen held up a hand, and his guards covered Lorezno’s mouth.
“So you are saying if I let them leave, and you will stay here with me. Then if you stay, what will you offer?”
He stared at Charles, listening to the preposition he made.
A shiver ran through his body, but Charles knew that he wasn’t important but his brothers and the future of Monaco.
“Myself. To you, your men, or anyone who will take me. I’m young, I can take care of children, I can cook, I-” He choked on his words, but Charles found his inner strength, “I am a virgin. I could offer myself to anyone. I would do anything for my family.”
De Leeuwen satisfyingly hummed at the answer. Thoughts spread through his mind of the possibilities, but those would be saved for later.
“Anything, you say?”
Charles nodded his head, seemingly confident, but he was a mess on the inside. “ Whatever it takes. I’ll make whatever promise needed for them to go home.”
“Even if that promise is that you will never be able to leave me or see your family, brothers, or Monaco ever again? That you will forever be bound to the Verstappen clan and me?”
“What do I gain if I stay? You will gain a lot, but what do I and my family take?”
“You gain comfort and security.. Every need and want you have will be catered. What is mine is yours,” De Leeuwen proposed, “You won’t be a prisoner of war. I may be a monster, but not of that kind.”
Charles gulped and his eyes widened at the response. The protesting had stopped, and silence filled the air, besides the sparks coming from the torches around them. Half of the light illuminated De Leeuwen’s face, making him more intimidating. That stare gave Charles goosebumps.
Charles' lips opened and closed as he picked them, figuring out his response. He knew what he said depended on his brother's lives. He knew they wouldn’t like either answer, but thousands of lives, and their own, were on the line. All of his friends and family looked at him, awaiting for his decision.
But it was his own, and not theirs to make.
Charles closed his eyes and looked up, putting on a brave face.
“I promise to never leave or see my family again, if that means keeping them safe. I promise to be loyal to you and the Verstappen clan, and yours and only yours. I promise myself to you, Dee Leeuwen , for my family, friends, and Monaco.”
There was silence, minus the heavy breathing and shifting. Charles opened his eyes, seeing those cold blue eyes. They were intimidating, and gorgeous, yet thoughtful. There was more behind that icy sheet, something else that Charles wanted to seek into it. De Leeuwen rose to his two feet and sighed, looking back at the brothers before turning to Charles.
“So it is done. Say your goodbyes.”
De Leeuwen walked past Charles, brushing him. There the screaming, pleading, and beginning returned from his family and friends. The guards that let go, and soon all of them poured towards Charles, full of various emotions.
Yet, as much as Charles wanted to cry, he smiled reassuringly.
“What have you done, mon petit frère ? Lorenzo asked, cupping his face.
“I have helped us. Your wife is waiting for you at home,” Charles whispered back, “Your children await your return.”
“Charles, please don’t stay. He will hurt you,” Arthur had begged. Instead of being strong, he was weak and vulnerable. Tears strolled down his face as he held Charles by his waist. Charles grabbed the side of his head and brought him close, stroking his hair.
“Don’t worry, Arthur and Lorezno. You will go back to your families and never have to worry again. I will be okay, I can handle him-”
“Charles, he will hurt you,” Lorezno hissed into his ear.
Charles shook his head, “I can sense, I feel…he wouldn’t do that. He promised me comfort and security, brother. He’s not entirely a monster-”
“Charles-”
“Lorezno, this is my choice to make,” Charles declared, “No one can control me. Whatever he does with me does. As long as you are safe, all will be good. I will be okay, I can handle this more than you think I can, I promise .”
Charles gave a reassuring smile to his brothers. He saw the guards coming down, and pressed kisses onto both of his brothers heads. The guards came and tore them apart. Lorezno and Arthur kicked and fought against them as they were dragged away to the docks to be shipped back to Monaco. Charles was held by the guards, telling them to not worry and that things would be okay.
Arthur, who was the general, had reformed back to a sad child, kicking and screaming. It haunted charles, hearing the pleas of a little boy and not a man. He begged for Charles back, and begged for him to come.
Of course Charles wanted to go, but he could not. He had a promise to keep, and a duty to fulfill. After all, De Leeuwen had a promise to keep.
As the screams faded, Charles stood there, watching their figures grow smaller, and the boat eventually sailed away from the ship. His eyes widened, and tears began to form, slowly blurring his vision. It reminded him that his nightmare was in fact very much real, and his life course would be alerted forever, and irreversible.
However, his emotions were interrupted by a hand clasping his shoulders. Charles blinked and looked up, expecting De Leeuwen, but it was another man. He was tall, with short curly and unruly chocolate hair, dark and long features. He was dressed in dark colors as well, and Charles could tell he was certainly not from his region.
“Alright love, let’s get moving,” He requested with an accent Charles had never heard of, exotic and different,“It’s late, and a storm is coming.”
Charles didn’t respond and simply moved forward, holding his hands together. He and the dark featured man walked down a path illuminated by torches, a few guards surrounding them. Dark, tall trees surrounded them, and Charles gulped as he fiddled with his sleeves.
He would never go home again. This place would be his home forever, whether he liked it or not.
They thought it all was so overwhelming, and Charles felt as if he wanted to burst into tears. He wanted his mama, but he would never see his mama again. His cheeks grew hot and so did his eyes, all before the man spoke again.
“What you did was very brave, by the way,” The man spoke. His hand rested on his shoulder, rubbing small, reassuring circles, “Not a lot of people would do that.”
Charles nodded his head, keeping his sniffles low, “Thank you.”
As they walked, the man held him close. Not uncomfortably, but reassuringly. He had sensed Charles anxiety, especially with losing his whole family and promising himself to a man he had been told to be scared of for years.
“I’m Daniel, by the way,” Daniel introduced himself, a kind smile on his face, “Might as well get to know each other.”
Daniel’s smile was infectious, and it made Charles break a smile himself too. He felt weirdly safe, amidst all of the chaos that had just occurred.
“Charles. It’s nice to meet you, Daniel. I suppose so, since I'll be here for…well, ever .”
The physical manifestation of forever had Charles' stomach drop, like an anchor weighing to the bottom of the sea. It was slowly setting in.
They descended up a long hill, a large and dark building on top of a sad hill. They had walked through a small village, which was empty and closed due to the hour. The castle on top of the hill was most likely De Leeuwen’s house, where he was surely waiting for Charles.
“Max isn’t a bad guy. He won’t hurt you at all. Beneath everything, he’s rather kind actually,” Daniel explained. Daniel leads Charles through the mansion, a guard leading them with a torch. Charles trailed behind, looking at the paintings and decor. Everything was dark, wooden, and the opposite of Monaco. Between the stone and wood, it only eliminated Charles further.
De Leuween had a name; Max. It felt weird off the tongue, but it made sense. His name was strong, just as he was.
“So he won’t do anything to hurt me?”
Daniel shook his head, “God, no. Max knows what you are doing. He’s a man who keeps to his promises, unlike-”
Daniel knew the joke he was about to make, and froze.
“Sorry, too soon. My bad.”
They approached a room, and the guard opened the door. Daniel let Charles walk in first. It was a large bedroom, grand and luxurious. It was similar to the hallways, with paintings and Viking decor all over. The bed was large, full of pillows and bur blankets. A fire was even running, adding warmth to the cold and dark room. A large window showed the moon, and a set of flowers by the bedside.
“Are you hungry at all? Do you need anything?” Daniel asked.
Charles smiled and shook his head, “I’m okay, thank you. I’m very tired.”
“If you need anything, let me know. There are also guards and a maid. Just holler, Charles,” Max reassured. He patted him on the shoulder and bid him goodnight.
Once he and the guard exited, Charles waited for their footsteps to fade before he broke into sobs. They weren’t loud but contained. He neared the fire and curled into a ball, grabbing the furs around him. He desperately wanted to take up from his terrible dream.
–
Max sat by the fire in the dining room. He pulled at his chin, his other hand fostering a cup. As the fire burned, sparks coming from the news logs, he looked at the seat next to him. It was empty, it was for his partner. Every time Max closed his eyes, he saw the Monégasque prince, with his yellow eyes looking right at him, seemingly fearless. He offered himself to him, all for his family.
That left much for Max’s imagination to play with, but he scoffed off the thoughts. He rose from his chair to fetch more ale. He knew Christian would have something to say to him tomorrow, trying to give him advice on how to use his assets and take advantage of them, but now he didn’t want to hear it, nor did he want to take advantage of it. Not in that way, at least.
He took a sip from the harsh ale and heard a door close. Daniel walked in, letting out a long and exasperated sigh.
“One of those nights, Maxi?” Daniel joked.
Max had zero patience for Daniel’s jokes at the moment, “Where is Charles?”
“In his room. I put him in the one you requested, right down the hallway,” Daniel responded, fetching himself a cup and pouring the ale.
Max hummed approvingly, “Good. Was he resistant?”
“Well, considering that you threatened to kill his brothers and then made him promise himself to you for the sake of his family and the wellbeing of his kingdom, not really ,” The other answered with a casual shrug, taking a large sip, “He is sobbing right now though.”
Max clenched his drink, looking down as he slowly paced around the dining table. He knew that it was his fault.
“Does he need anything at the moment?”
“Shook his head. He’s exhausted. And I know you want to go see him, but It’s not a good idea now. He’s just lost his whole family.”
“With his pathetic brothers, I would have killed them for their incompetence. If you don’t compete, you don’t live-”
“Exact reason why you should not see Charles tonight,” Daniel pointed out.
Max scoffed and tried to come up with a response, but he couldn’t. Charles was here, he was his prisoner in a gilded cage. Charles had given him the right to do what he pleased, and Max could abuse his power, but if he wanted Charles happy, he had to hope that Charles could see past him for the events of today.
Daniel swigged the ale in his cup, “Look, the storm that’s coming in looks pretty bad. Maybe a tour of the house? It’ll bring you two closer. Good idea to make him feel like less of a prisoner.”
Max, with a frustrated sigh, slammed his hands against the table, which normal people would be scared of. However, Daniel was not scared. He had seen Max grow up and knew how to deal with Max, or as some people would say, how to tame the lion.
“You guilt me,” Max accused.
“You are lonely, and you want someone, and if you want Charles, then you have to do it the right way,” Daniel said, pointing a finger back, “Which is not through intimidation and whatever this is. You are not a child Max, but a man. This poor boy has given everything up for you.”
Max calmed down a little bit, his finger grasping at the wood of the table. A few pieces of his hair fell down to his forehead, but he didn’t have the energy to fix it.
“I made him promise himself to me. Daniel, I fucking claimed him like he was property,” Max admitted, “He probably thinks he’s going to be some slave. I…don’t want him to do that. But he won’t, you know, after that I did. Hell, he knows those damn folk stories about me.”
“He’s terrified and not good at hiding it,” Daniel honestly replied. He looked at Max and let out a sigh, “You gotta fix that if you are really committed to him. Your impression does matter to his well being.”
Max didn’t look at Daniel, but he stared at the fire. The rage and anger reminded him of Charles and what he had displayed. When Max caught him, he just stared. He hadn’t seen anyone like Charles before, and he took his breath away.
He was a gorgeous creature, and Max felt his anger fade away.
Max loves pretty things, and of course, what better way to keep saying pretty things than threatening him and his family in order to keep him to himself. Albeit, he did offer, Max knew better.
“Look at him. He’s beautiful. And he thinks I’m some monster,” Max croaked, not knowing how to handle this without being De Leuween, but just Max.
Max heard Daniel put his cup down, and his footsteps fade away.
“You’ve gotta fix this, mate. It all depends on you.”
Once Daniel had left, Max decided to retire for the night. He walked past Charles’s bedroom and heard movement. He stopped and put his hand on the knob, wanting to go in, wanting to be with Charles. He knew Charles wouldn’t resist if he threatened, but Max knew that wasn’t the thing to do, nor did he want to do it. Resisting the urge, Max controlled himself and headed down to his room.
He changed and prepared for bed before settling in. His two cats settled on the edge, providing a small amount of warmth along with the fire. He closed his eyes and sunk into his bed, letting the thoughts of the Monégasque Prince run wild in his head, giving him the warmth Max had been looking for.