#prince!arthur leclerc fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 1

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, arranged marriage, and a mention of misogyny

ao3 link next chapter>>

“My lady, we’re crossing the border into Enza. We should be arriving in an hour.” You nodded at your maid, indicating that you had heard her. You didn’t look away from the window.

“What do you think the prince will be like?” A younger maid gossiped quietly. The older maid shook her head at the inexperienced one, shushing her. “Sorry, ma’am,” the youngest maid whispered in your direction, head hung low. You think she’s named Elena. Your other maid who had been with you since you turned fourteen was a lovely woman named Sara. She knew not to interrupt your stupor.

Elena’s words dug at you, though. What was he like? The prince and you had only communicated through one letter. Your family had urged you to write to him, and so you did. You received a short letter in reply. There hadn’t been any communication since.

Your mother had told you the carriage ride would be short. She was wrong. It was too quiet, giving you time to dig up anxieties you had attempted to repress.

You were starting to feel guilt about your last days in Williams- the kingdom that your mother and father ruled. You had avoided your family during the final nights of your stay. You weren’t sure if it was out of contempt or not wanting to see your brothers and sisters pitying faces. You had stayed huddled in your room, watching stoically as Sara and Elena tried to get your opinion on what to pack.

At first, when your parents told you that for the prosperity of the kingdom, they were marrying you off to an obscure prince in Enza, you were angry. You had watched your older sisters get married off, one by one, each with varying results. One of your sisters gained a connection with their husband and fell in love. Another sister became sweet friends with their husband, and while there was no romantic love, there was a strong platonic relationship. Your last sister was married to a prick and rightly hated him. He was misogynist and had anger issues that bullied your sister into submission.

If you got nothing else, you were satisfied with being friends with the prince.

So your anger turned to sad acceptance. At least Enza was a beautiful place.

Your older brother had his choice of mistresses for his bride, in which all had been vetted to see if they were a proper fit to be Queen of Williams. Your youngest brother still had some years of freedom before your parents started pointing out the eligible ladies in court.

But the prince of Enza had no choice. While his older brother needed a suitable queen and therefore had his pick, the younger prince was just another pawn in the game of hierarchical chess. The kingdoms of Enza and Williams both had something to gain from the other and you and the prince were simply the bond of that compromise. Enza, being the bigger and stronger empire, would protect Williams in times of need, while Williams, being a small mining community, promised to supply Enza with gold and iron. Neither kingdom could stab the other in the back with their heirs married.

“There’s a house,” you spoke for the first time during the trip. “A couple kilometres away from Enza’s palace. We’re going to pass it soon. It’s not far from the border.” You took a breath, shaking with the realisation of your future. “I’m going to buy it. The prince isn’t in line for the throne, so I’m not required to live at the palace. It has five bedrooms with adjacent bathrooms. The kitchen is a small thing, but manageable. There’s a sweet little fireplace in the sitting room, which, with a little bit of rearrangement, can double as a dining room. But my favourite part,” you paused and pointed out the window. “Look, there it is.” The two maids stared out the window with you, all three of you taking in a large farmhouse in the distance. Compared to William’s palace, it was small, but any peasant would think it was an empire. The house was three stories and coloured a light baby blue. The windows were painted a bright white that stood out in contrast. There was a wrap-around porch that a small swing hung from. “You can’t see it,” you said, “but the best part is in the back. There’s this large field that leads to a forest.” The house was long gone, but you still gazed out the window hopefully. Sara and Elena exchanged a glance. “I’m hoping to employ a small staff. I’ll have to get a cook, of course, and maybe a cleaner. And then a stable master.”

“A stable master, my lady?” Sara wondered if she heard you right.

“Yes. Wouldn’t it be lovely to finally buy a horse or two? You know that mother never wanted me to ride, so I’ve only ridden a couple times. I would love to choose a name and develop a connection with a horse.”

“And what about the prince, ma’am?” Elena wondered.

You shrugged. “He can choose whatever he wants. After the wedding night, I’m not required to stay. Neither is he. If he wants to stay at the palace, he can. If he wants to visit me, I’ll allow it. And if he would like to try and live with me… we’ll see how it goes.” After a moment of thought, you said, “I think I’ll name the house the Foundling Villa.”

The countryside slowly changed to a small village and then a quaint market. You saw people milling about, carrying a carton of eggs, hauling water from the well, or dragging a cow through the street. Most people stopped and stared at seeing an aristocratic carriage prance through their streets. You pressed your body against the seat and stared straight ahead, knowing that it made it harder for people outside to see you. You didn’t want them to see you. You couldn't have them see you.

Elena peeked out the window and a little girl waved excitedly at her. Elena waved back. The girl clapped happily and tugged at her mother’s arm.

Slowly, the carriage turned to an inclined road and the palace came into view. Sara sucked in a breath and blinked owlishly at the sight before her. Elena muttered an, “Holy shit.” You frowned at it. It looked like it was overly compensating for something. It was a massive building built with large blocks of brick and stone that looked like it could house the entire population of Williams. The flag of Enza flew proudly from the spires. An impressive perron stood imposingly before you, laid with a red carpet. The King, Queen, and the three princes of Enza stood on the steps to welcome you.

The reality of it all finally crashed down on you. You were supposed to marry a man who you had only heard of through one letter. You had only seen him in portraits. You were expected to move to another kingdom, which you had never set foot in, and never return home unless accompanied by your new husband.

You shook your head widely and your hands clutched around the dress you’d chosen this early morning. “I can’t.” You stated, “Turn this around. I want to go home. Turn the carriage around.”

“My lady, you must go,” Elena pleaded. “They’re waiting.”

“No!” You cried, “I am not going to marry him! You can’t make me! I will not walk out there to my doom. Take me back to Williams.” You tried to sound stern, but emotion cracked through. Outside, you saw the youngest brother whisper something to your fiancé.

“Milady,” Sara tried her hand at calming you down. “Princess. Y/n!” You whipped around to look at her. “All you have to do,” Sara leaned forward and clasped your hands in hers. “Is go out there and bow to the King and Queen. That’s it. Then Elena and I will be with you the entire rest of the way. We’ll be by your side walking through the doors, finding your room, getting you prepared for dinner, and if you want, we could even take dinner in your room instead of with the family. But you must step out of the carriage.”

Your jaw clenched and reluctantly nodded. Sara smiled softly and then knocked on the wall. The footman jumped down and opened the door for you. You exhaled, your heart pounding like you just lost a sprint, took the footman’s hand, and stepped out.

And then you make eye contact with Charles Leclerc, Prince of Enza, and your future husband.

#Foundling Villa #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #hervé leclerc #lord perceval #monarchy #prince!charles leclerc x reader #prince!charles leclerc

326 notes · View notes

sports-on-sundays · 8 months

Text

prince not so charming / CL16 / PART 2

Warnings : Switch between second and third person

Summary : Prince!Charles x Princess!Reader - The prince chooses who he wants to marry and grows closer to the one he wants.

Author's Note : Link to Part 1. There will be a Part 3.

Requested? : No.

You wake up to the sound of knocking. You slip out of the bed you've slept in for this night and pad across the floor to the door. The sun is shining in bright through the curtains. You open the door, still wearing just a nightgown. Standing in front of you is one of the other princesses, also still in a nightgown, with her hair in curlers. "Princess Y/n, I've been meaning to speak with you as soon as I soon you! Can I come in?"

You sigh, but shrug, opening the door to her. The two of you sit down on the bed, and you ask, "What could it possibly be?"

"You came yesterday dressed like a peasant! And what's more, you stayed with Prince Charles longer than any of the rest of us!"

"I did...?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. "It didn't feel like that long."

"You must've been in there three times the amount that I was, and I was in there for one of the longest amounts of time! What did you do with him in there?"

You shrug again. Of course, your mind immediately goes to the hand holding, hugging, and the kiss of your hand, but you just say, "I don't know. We just talked."

"About what?"

"I am not obligated to tell you."

She rolls her eyes. "But isn't he just dreamy?"

"Well, he's never been in my dreams, so I would say not. Anyway, is there anything else you have to tell me?"

"Just that a servant came to tell me that a breakfast is being prepared for all of us, in which the prince's advisors, Prince Charles, his mother, and his brothers will attend.. They're going to tell us which one of us Prince Charles has chosen! I'm sure it will be me! We're very close in age, you know, and I think I put forth a good image. I'm sure I have more of a chance than you do, at least."

You nod and just say vaguely, your thoughts elsewhere, "Sure... I'm sure. Anyway, would you kindly mind leaving so that I can prepare myself? Tell the servants I don't need help getting ready."

She looks at you with a strange look, and mutters, "Alright, then. I'll tell them that. See you later, Princess Y/n."

"Yes, just be on with yourself now, please."

And at that, she gets up and walks out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her. You get up to turn the lock, and then go to the wardrobe. Last night, the servants told you that everything you'll need to get ready tomorrow would be in there.

There are many dresses in there to choose from, and you decide to get dressed in a beautiful but very modest dress, as it seems like Prince Charles' advisors are very traditional people. So you first put on a corset, not too tight, before putting on a white dress with a white top and flowing silky skirts. The longer sleeves also flow out, and the dress goes down to your ankles. You bathed last night, so you put oils in your clean hair, before tying it half up. You put on plain heels that aren't too high, and some nice sparkling jewelry, and then go to your makeup.

You suddenly hear Prince Charles' unique accented voice saying in your head, Cover up your beautiful face with all that makeup?

You sigh and whisper to yourself, "Yes, Prince Charles, I'm afraid I have to." You darken your eyelashes and put slightly darker than your skin sparkling eye shadow around your eyes, before finishing it with some brown winged eyeliner. "There, Charles. That's not so bad, is it?" You brush your eyebrows and cover your imperfections, before finishing up with rouge on your cheeks and lips.

Then you exit your room. There is a servant in the hall, who immediately offers to lead you to the dining room where breakfast is going to be eaten.

When you get there, you look around to realize in embarrassment that you're the last one to arrive. But then you shrug it off, deciding that's a stupid thing to be worried about, and sit down in the empty seat.

King Lorenzo welcomes us all to the table, before everyone starts eating. Apparently, once everyone finishes their food, the three princes, the queen, and Prince Charles' advisors will exit the room and discuss the decision one last time, before coming out and announcing it.

In the meantime, you eat, and the advisors and princes start conversing with you. You keep quiet, until the youngest of the three princes, Prince Arthur, addresses you quietly, as he is sitting very near to you, "Princess Y/n."

You look up, meeting his eyes. "Yes, sir?"

His face is lit up a little as he says, "If you were to marry him, what kind of wife would you be?"

You blink in surprise at this question, and say after some thought, "Well, I suppose I'd make sure to take care of my responsibilities. I'd care about him and help him, as it would be my duty, but of course also visit my country very often, which I always care about and want to help. And when it comes to having children..." You try not to sigh. "I'd prefer to take care of them myself rather than servants."

He looks a little surprised at this comment, but nods, saying, "Alright. Thank you."

"Prince, do you have any children?"

The younger man shakes his head, responding, "No, I do not. But if I did, I wouldn't want servants taking care of them, either. Our parents always took care of me, Charles, and Lorenzo."

You nod, and once it's clear he has no more to say, turn back to your food. You have to be very mindful to sit up straight, use your napkin, and eat very cleanly, in front of all these people.

The only other person, it seems, who does not speak much at all throughout the whole meal is Prince Charles himself, the one this whole breakfast is centred around.

Finally, though, the eating is finished, and everyone exits the room, leaving only the seven princesses and the servants.

You sit. And sit. And sit and sit and sit. It seems to take an eternity, and you can only wonder what they're talking about.

And there's a nervous anticipation within you, just wondering...

Will you be the one in the end? Or will it be one of the others?

All of the girls are fidgeting and whispering, but you sit completely still, back straight, staring ahead, as your thoughts fly through your head as fast as warhorses running into battle.

"So it's the quiet one in the white dress you want to marry?"

"Yes," Charles nods, responding to one of his advisors. "She's humble, willing, kind, and the kind of woman I want to marry."

Charles' advisors look unsure, but his older brother pipes in, saying, "If Charles has finally found someone he actually wants to marry, it would be foolish to say no."

"I agree," says the boys' mother. "I trust him if he says she's the right one."

"What do you think, Prince Arthur?" asks of the advisors. "Because what if Prince Charles really doesn't know what's best for himself? I still think Princess-"

"I will not marry the fifteen year old," Charles interrupts sternly.

Arthur says, "Advisors, who am I to have a say? For I am not my brother's keeper, am I? In fact, I am younger than him. But if you ask for my words, I say let my brother do as he pleases. For if he uses his own judgement and things go bad for him, who's fault would that be? His own. He is an able adult, just like the rest of us, who can decide for himself. I doubt this will be a terrible thing, but if it is, the only one who will have to deal with that is Charles himself."

Suddenly, Charles laughs, nudging his younger brother in his ribs, saying, "I believe that may have been the most intelligent thing you've ever spoken, brother."

But the younger just rolls his eyes at this, and everyone becomes serious again as the conversation over the matter continues.

Finally, the door opens, and the group of people enter the room again. Every sits down, except for Prince Charles, who remains standing. He's wearing a very handsome outfit, with a white and gold coat, a read sash, and fitting pants. "Ladies," he begins. "All seven of you were very kind, and I would consider marrying every one of you, but in the end, one had to be chosen. After a long time of thinking it over and considering, I've decided..." He trails off, studying each of our faces, it seems, as if he's trying to build of suspense. But really, it seems more like he's hesitating.

"I've decided that I would like to marry Princess Y/n."

The whole room suddenly bursts out in surprise. All the princesses and advisors stand and shout in confusion, but before anything else can happen, Prince Charles swiftly leaps onto the table, and off on the other side, next to you, before grabbing your hand and running out of the room with you. He slams the door shut, and keeps running, still holding your hand. You trip over your cursed high heels, but Prince Charles catches you, keeping you standing, and you stutter, "P- Prince, I need to... I can't run in these shoes!"

You expect him to stop and let you take them off, but instead, he suddenly picks you up, carrying you bridal style, and keeps running. "We'll go faster like this," he says to you.

"Prince, what is all this? Where are you bringing me? Can you please put me down-"

"No. I'll explain once we get there," he says firmly.

You sigh in annoyance, but decide perhaps the smartest thing to do now is to just trust him. He runs through the halls, until he reaches a door, opens it to the outdoors, and starts running down the stone stairs in front of us. "I can run myself," you say. "It's probably hard for you... I don't want us to fall, and these are steep stairs."

"It's okay," he replies, his grip on your mid back tightening. "We're almost there anyway, and I won't fall. I've got you."

"You're... pretty strong, huh?"

"Thank you," he nods, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He runs down a beaten down path, into a little woods, jumping over roots and catching himself on the uneven ground.

"Be careful... I don't want you to trip and fall. I can run if you want..."

"Don't worry. I won't loose my footing."

And, he doesn't. You honestly can't believe how athletic he is, with so much agility, to be able to do this so easily. Soon, he stops at a clearing. The prince seems barely winded, and actually has a good mood about him. It's a sunny day, and you start look around. "We can walk now," he says before you can get a good look, and gently puts you down back on your feet "If I were you, I'd take off my shoes now."

You nod and do so, but when your feet touch the rough rocky ground, you yelp in surprise. Right away, Prince Charles does something surprising. He slips off his two boots and says, holding them out to you, "Here. Put these on."

"They'll be way too big..." you say, unsure. "And what about you? Your feet will hurt, and you'll damage your socks."

Suddenly, he smiles.

And it's a smile brighter than the midday sun up above the two of you, shining on your skin.

"Don't worry about my socks," he says, taking them off. "And my feet can handle it. I walk barefoot often enough."

But you stare at him and his little smile, barely even hearing the words coming out of his mouth. In his eyes, you can see a certain happiness, and with the smile, two dimples appear on his cheeks.

You nod, snapping back slightly back to yourself as you slip on his boots. Then you turn to him and look him in the eyes, which shine bright green in this bright lighting, and say, "You have a beautiful smile."

He looks you back in the eyes, still smiling, and says, "I'm sure you do, too, though I've never seen it."

You nod and say simply, "Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Never stop smiling."

He looks at you, eyes twinkling, and says with a wink, "That's a hard task, but I appreci-"

"No, but you don't understand," you interrupt, taking a step closer to him. He also takes a step closer. "I believe your smile could fix the worst day, and light up the saddest soul."

This makes him smile even more, and he wraps you in a hug, laughing a surprisingly cute little laugh. "Now I'm allowed to hug you. We're officially courting. Anyway, the place I've wanted to bring you to is right up ahead here."

You nod, and the two of you start walking. This seems to be some sort of wide kind of trail, and the middle of it is growing with long, tall grass, about Prince Charles' height, with beautiful flowers of all colors growing in it. You walk along, enjoying the warm day, inhaling the sweet scents of nature, and listening to the birds sing without a care in the world.

Soon, you come along a little shed made of wood. In front of it sit three wooden chairs. "Let's go sit there," he says, pointing to them. So you go and sit down together. After a few minutes of just sitting together, ceasing the day, watching the tall grass dance in the light breeze, Prince Charles says, "Mama, Lorenzo, and Arthur all said I should court and marry you. My advisors disagreed, and they outnumbered the four of us. The only way to get out of there was to convince them that I had given in, and that I would choose one of the other princesses. So I made it seem like I was going to. But then when I walked out, I didn't. And I grabbed you and ran, to get away."

"Well... We'll have to go back there, no?"

"Yes of course we do. I just want to wait it out. Wait until things calm down there first before going back. But I am marrying you. My heart is set on it."

"So you want to marry me that much?"

This time he looks surprised. "Why, of course!"

"Oh..." you nod.

"I'm sorry... That isn't what you wanted...?"

"No, no, no... As long as... Well, I think you're starting to grow on me," you smile at him.

And he smiles back. "There's that lovely smile. I knew it'd be beautiful."

"So, tell me about this place. Surely you aren't the only person that knows about it?"

"No, no, I'm not. Arthur an Lorenzo knows about it, and a few other guys, too."

"This place feels like it has many stories for some reason, Prince. It feels like it has a story of its own."

"I suppose it kind of does. Lots of things happened here. I love this place because of the memories. But in a strange way as well, I hate it."

"Why could that be?"

"It's empty now. It's overgrown and quiet. This was... I loved this place. I still do. Back then, no adults knew about this place. Now I suppose only adults know about it. People grow. Places grow. Places also change. But most of all, people change."

You nod, gently placing your hand on his. "Do you dislike that?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"Do you wish you were still a boy?"

"Sometimes..." he pauses. "It was good times. Good... Good memories."

"What did you do here?"

"Well, we would mostly have competitions," he starts, another beautiful smile forming on his face. "We would be racing mostly. We had our ponies, and we'd race. We did other little things too though. We arm wrestled. We would bet on who we thought would win the chariot racing championship. Sometimes inside this shed here, do little things like play cards or draw pictures. It was fun. It was good fun."

"Do you still preserve the shed?"

"Yes. I... I do." He waits a few seconds, before saying, "Sometimes it's hard to let go."

"And sometimes there are things that you should never let go. Prince Charles, when i look at you, there's something beautiful within you. An innocence that makes you child-like. Being around you feels like being free. Completely free. You're a man who longs for the freedom and joy that children have implanted in their hearts. You have an adventurous streak, and you want danger, but you have such a kind, kind heart. A heart that wouldn't want to fight. A heart that just wants to run free. And I think that's beautiful."

"I guess so, but it's not convenient," he says with a soft, sad smile, looking down.

"Nothing good is convenient. Come on now. Why don't you show my the inside of this shed?"

He nods, standing up, and swings open the door, saying, "For years I've felt like a boy and a man at the same time. Everyone else was getting older as I stayed young. But now... Now I think maybe, with you, I can... I can finally grow up."

"And if you never do completely," you say, stepping into the shed, "I'm okay with that."

In the middle of the small room is a table. Sitting on it is a stack of playing cards and some dice. On a shelf in the corner is a little kid's helmet, and a stack of wood. Sun is shining in through a window that is covered by a thin, faded curtain. There are other little knick-knacks, like a top, a little carved toy horse, a little knife, and a pair of gloves used for gardening.

But your eyes are drawn to some names carved on the wall. There is a small list, but some parts of the list stand out to you more. The first name is written is Charles, but it's crossed out, and next to it is the name Max. Then under that are the names Arthur, Pierre, and Esteban. Then at the end of the row, written again, this time not crossed out, is Charles, and underneath his name are the names Lorenzo and Jules.

"Pierre and Esteban. Those are two princes of other countries, no?"

"Yes, they are. They also still race with me."

You nod. "You all used to be friends?"

"Yeah, some of us were friends. Some of us just competed against each other. Everyone who ever came here carved their name on this wall."

"Who's Max?"

"Another guy I still race with. We've always been competitive."

"And obviously there's Prince Arthur and King Lorenzo. Who's Jules? Does he still race?"

Prince Charles seems to stare for a few seconds at the name, before saying, "No. No, he doesn't." There are a few seconds of silence, and just as you're about to ask further about Jules, Prince Charles says, "Either way, you're here now. I say you ought to write your name up there," he says, handing you the little knife.

"But I never raced h-"

"But you're here. Go on. Write it."

And so underneath Jules' name, you write your own. "Good?"

"Perfect," he says with a little wink, taking the knife back from you and setting it down.

"So does that mean Lorenzo and Arthur know where this place is, then?" you ask, but suddenly you're answered when you both hear running footsteps from outside. You both immediately turn in that direction, and hear a voice call, "Charles? Charles? Are you there? It's Arthur!"

"Yes, we're inside!" Prince Charles calls back.

And soon, the wooden door swings open, and the younger, slimmer, but likely just as strong, prince walks into the little building. "Charles," he says, looking around. "Gosh, I haven't been in here since... years."

"I figured it'd be a good place to go."

Prince Arthur nods. "Fair enough."

"What's the condition of the advisors?"

"Annoyed, but they will have to get over themselves, no?"

"True enough."

"So we go back. Princess Y/n goes home. We send a letter to her father, and then she comes back in... I don't know. Probably a week. You come back in a week to court with Charles for a month, and at the end of that month, you marry."

You nod. "Alright..."

"So you should come back with me now." Prince Arthur looks down at the boots on your feet and the nothing on Charles' feet, and says simply, "And you can't be arriving like that. You might get killed."

Prince Charles chuckles. "We have her shoes. We'll switch shortly before we get there."

Prince Arthur nods, and the three of you set off, down the path, you in the middle of the two princes. As you walk, Prince Arthur talks to the two of you about racing, life, and so on. He seems to just be enjoying talking to his brother.

Soon enough, you get to the castle. You switch shoes, and Prince Charles looks down at you, saying, "Well, Princess, let's go."

121 notes · View notes

miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 2

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of war

ao3 link next chapter>>

Charles didn’t want to leave the palace. Leaving the palace meant seeing Princess Y/n. Leaving the palace meant getting married. Leaving the palace meant throwing away his freedom.

“Charles, let’s go,” Lorenzo beckoned his younger brother. “Don’t throw a tantrum like a child.”

“I thought I would be able to choose,” Charles insisted for the umpteenth time.

Queen Pascale sighed. “We had always known it was a possibility. Williams is a fine kingdom and Princess Y/n is a wonderful girl.”

“We don’t need Williams,” Charles protested. “And you’ve never met Princess Y/n.”

“They have excellent resources,” Lorenzo explained. “It will be a much needed boost to the economy. With Redull suspiciously on our borders it would be beneficial to remain strong. Also, since when do you care about marriage? Other than a few flings here and there, you’ve shown no interest to anyone in court. What could you possibly be throwing away?”

Charles grumbled, refusing to let Lorenzo’s excellent argument get to him. “It’s not about if I have a girl, it’s about my freedom.”

Arthur snickered. “You think you won’t have any freedom? Whenever you want you can get out of here. Go on a trip to Aston or Alpine. Y/n can’t stop you.”

“Y/n?” Charles scoffed at the informalities. “Are you best friends?!”

“She’s my future sister-in-law,” Arthur pointed out. “I’m not going to call a family member by their title.”

“She’s hardly family,” Charles frowned. He wanted to cross his arms like a child.

Pascale hit him on the arm. “Charles Marc! Do not talk that way about your future bride!”

“You’re wrong.” Charles continued to rant, “everyone talks about how when you get married, you’re tied down. You have to run everything by your spouse. You can’t just wake up and decide to spend all day shooting ducks. You need to tell her about it and then she may refuse you to do it.”

“Charles, I’m sure she’s feeling the same way.” Pascale tried to talk some sense into her middle child. “She probably has hobbies she enjoys and is worried you’ll forbid her from continuing them. If you allow her to continue her endeavours, she’ll probably let you do yours. I had the same anxiety when I married your father,” she placed a loving hand on King Hervé’s arm. “But then I realised that he was a loving and kind man. I got very lucky, and if you do not make Princess Y/n feel the same way, I swear, Charles, I will skin you.” Charles flinched backwards and Arthur laughed loudly.

“Have you done it yet?” Lorenzo asked abruptly.

“Lorenzo!” Queen Pascale cried, “What is with you boys today?!”

“We’ll talk later,” Lorenzo made sure Charles agreed. “You too,” he said to Arthur. “Both of you need to know what you’re doing.”

Charles almost gagged. Arthur grimaced.

“Your Majesties,” a knight announced. “Princess Y/n of Williams has entered the palace gates.”

“Oh my!” Queen Pascale exclaimed, “Everyone outside! Let’s go! Aren’t you excited? Look your best.”

“Hey, Charles,” Arthur took him by the arm and held him back as the rest of the Leclercs walked outside. “Don’t screw this up.”

“Inspiring words,” Charles rolled his eyes.

“I mean it,” Arthur grabbed his brother’s arm. “Papa was conversing with Jules the other day. I overheard them talking about the prospect of war.”

“War?” Charles stared at his brother. “Arthur, are you sure your mind isn’t playing tricks on you?”

Before Arthur could answer, the knight stepped back inside. “Your Highnesses, Queen Pascale is demanding your presence.” Charles shot Arthur a glance, but walked out the door. Arthur shook his head and followed.

The two younger Leclerc brothers barely made it to their places before your carriage pulled up. However, you didn’t get out. Blurry shapes in the carriage danced around and Arthur whispered to Charles, “looks like she’s nervous too.”

A footman soon jumped down and sprung open the door. You grasped the footman’s hand and stepped down, your gown swishing around your ankles as you steadied yourself. Charles blinked once, an eyebrow quickly lifting before steadying his expression. His mother was right; you were beautiful. That hardly meant anything, though. Many girls in the court were attractive but were vain and only looked at him and his brothers as pocketbooks. When he saw you, however, all past concerns went out the window. You looked much more demure than he thought; much more fearful than he wanted you to be. You didn’t seem like the type of person to take control of his life. In fact, Charles felt an odd need to protect you. Your anxiousness worried him and he didn’t want you to feel scared in your new home.

Awkwardly, you slowly faced the royal family. Charles made quick eye contact with you. His muscles contracted, keeping him in the rightful place with shoulders back, chin tilted slightly upward, hands clasped firmly before him, and feet shoulder-width apart.

“God, be a statue, why don’t you?” Arthur muttered.

You, on the other hand, bowed your head in silent greeting, fingers fiddling with your dress. One of your maids said something into your ear and you nodded, glancing back at her, eyelashes brushing your cheeks. You murmured something back and the footman readily moved to the back of the carriage and began unloading. Charles noticed how you peeked up at the sky, seeming surprised at the sun high in the clouds. He remembered Williams had a much colder climate than Enza did and wondered if you were regretting your choice at a long-sleeve dress. Taking a deep breath, you paced forward to stand before the King and Queen.

“Your Majesties of Enza,” you curtsied, keeping your voice low and clam. “Thank you for housing me. My mother and father, King and Queen of Williams, send their regards and best wishes. It’s an honour to be here.”

“Princess Y/n,” King Hervé said. “It’s a pleasure to have you join us in Enza. We welcome you and any of your guests with a warm heart. We hope you’ll be happy and comfortable here.”

“Thank you,” you gestured to your maids. “This is Elena and Sara, my handmaidens. I hope they can accompany me during my stay.”

“Of course,” Queen Pascale spoke up. “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours. Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You tried to conceal a grimace. “Unfortunately, I’m feeling awfully tired after my trip. I’m sorry to disappoint, but the ride was incredibly long. I hope you don’t mind if I lay down?”

Queen Pascale looked worried. “Whatever you need, dear. We can send up some food, if you like?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“In the morning, Prince Charles could introduce you to the palace and show you around.” It didn’t sound like a request, though you knew Queen Pascale was just trying to instigate a relationship between you and Prince Charles.

“I would love to accompany him.” Admittedly, you wanted to get to know Prince Charles. If you were to marry him, you thought you should at least know the bare minimum. It would look bad if you didn’t know your husband’s favourite food.

King Hervé said, “Prince Charles can show you to your room if you would like to get settled in.”

“That would be excellent, thank you.”

Prince Charles offered his arm to you. The rest of the Leclercs sneaked inside, leaving the two of you alone. Elena and Sara dropped back, offering some space.

Charles noticed your sky blue dress as the colours of Williams. He felt bad that your wedding dress was to be light red. Although, his pocket square and tie were to be blue, the same colour of your dress you now wore. It was supposed to be symbolic of the joining of unions and the intertwining of kingdoms. However, it was clear that you weren’t ready to let go of your kingdom.

You slowly accepted his arm. Charles felt a pain in his chest. He didn’t want you to be frightened of him, even though he was against the marriage as well.

If you got nothing else, he was satisfied with being friends with you.

“I know you may not ever love me,” he started talking, leading you inside and up a flight of stairs. “And I’m fine with that. This doesn’t need to be a romantic marriage. However, I would like to be on good terms with you. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You were suspicious. “I would thank you for that,” you said cautiously.

“I understand you’ll need some time to trust me.” Prince Charles seemed thoughtful, a quality you were grateful for. He didn’t seem like a controlling man. Maybe if you both agreed to stay out of the others’ way, this marriage wouldn’t turn out as bad as you thought.

“I know neither of us want this,” you admitted. “But you’re right; we could be cordial to one another.”

“I would be accepting of that,” Prince Charles nodded.

Prince Charles stopped in front of a large door.”This is you. If you want, your maids could be placed in a room close to you.”

“I would like that, thank you.”

“I’m supposed to tell you that a week from now, we’ll finalise plans for the wedding. The actual marriage is to take place in a month. Your parents are aware, but if you would like to invite anyone else, I would suggest writing to them now.” Charles monologued the script he was expected to tell you.

“Understandable,” you said. “I hope you sleep well tonight.”

It was simply formalities, but Charles replied kindly, “Thank you. You as well.”

You gave the prince a half-smile as you stepped into your new room. Your maids scurried in after you. Charles decided he liked your smile. He wanted to see it more often, as good friends would.

Being forced to marry you wasn’t the worst that could happen. After all, at least you didn’t hate him.

193 notes · View notes

miryum · 11 months

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 11

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp (wow, there’s a lot of you)

Warnings: argument? short chapter... so sorry you guys!!!

ao3 link next chapter>>

“Charles, I know what I’m asking is a lot, but this needs to be done. Right now, I’m not asking as your brother, but as your king.” Lorenzo looked tired, and Charles felt sorry for him, but what he was telling him to do was crossing a line.

“Lorenzo, I am not spending weeks in a potentially hostile environment with my wife,” Charles insisted. They had been arguing for over an hour now, ever since Lorenzo proposed his idea. Since the coronation, Lorenzo had been doing everything in his power to gain support for his reign. He had used Charles and Arthur as placeholders in meetings while he went to villages and markets around Enza, drumming up supporters and fondness. But as of now, Lorenzo was worried about foreign affairs.

You had relayed to Charles what Prince Verstappen had hinted at during Lorenzo’s coronation. Charles had, in turn, told Lorenzo, who spiralled into worrying that a war would break out during his first year as King. Once Queen Pascale calmed her eldest down, the brothers and their advisors had convened a meeting to discuss what the next steps should be. Charles had gently suggested that you avoid the meeting. He didn’t want you to overhear his shouts.

“You don’t even have to go to Redull,” Lorenzo compromised. “Just to their allies or neighbours. If you can coax information out of them, it would be incredibly helpful and necessary for the future of Enza.”

“Lorenzo, must I repeat myself? I am not travelling across the continent with my newlywed wife to adversarial kingdoms!” Charles found the title of ‘husband and wife’ sliding much more easily on this tongue.

“I am your King, ordering you on this assignment, and don’t think I won’t exile you for disrespecting your superiors!” Lorenzo’s roars reverberated through the room, and surely out into the hallway. Charles flinched back. Lorenzo slumped down into his chair.

“I’ll do it,” Charles agreed quietly. “Lorenzo, I-”

“Don’t you dare,” Lorenzo held up a hand to silence him. “Just… go.”

Meanwhile, you sat in your and Charles’ shared room, penning a letter.

Prince Verstappen,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. It’ll be unusual for you to hear from me, but I hope you’re not too surprised. I've lost sleep over your words at Lorenzo’s coronation and I’m writing so you could wipe away the worries.

I’m unable to do anything to protect the ones I love if I don’t know what I’m protecting them from. I’m sure you can see my predicament. I’m aware you won’t divulge your kingdom’s secrets, nor am I asking you to, but a little more information would be beneficial.

This may seem like a ploy to compromise your plans, but rest assured, it’s not. I want to avoid conflict and altercation in any way possible, and if writing a simple letter is enough to do so, then I will gladly write a thousand.

I beg that you come to your senses to help a friend in need. You won’t simply be helping me, but thousands of innocents. I’m sure you don’t want that bloody smear on Redull history.

I eagerly await your response,

Princess Y/n Leclerc of Enza

You slowly set your quill down and stared at the words you had composed. Would it be enough? What could Redull be concocting? Your unstable alliance with Prince Verstappen could prove to be essential, and you needed to play it well. You felt as if you were playing chess against an opponent, but you couldn’t see how they were moving their pieces. You were playing in the dark.

In a state of convoluted amusement, you added a postscript to your letter: By any chance, do you play chess? If so, Queen’s pawn to d4.

Feeling much more weary than you should have, you flagged down a servant in the hallway and gave them the letter.

“What’s that?” You quickly turned around to see Charles smiling sheepishly at you. He still felt bad about his argument with Lorenzo. “Are you writing to your parents?”

You let out a laugh. “God, no. Actually… it’s to Prince Verstappen. I thought that because he reached out to me in the beginning, he would be more prone to talking to me again.”

Charles let out a sign. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, but thank you for trying. How would you feel about going behind Prince Verstappen’s back to deduce what they’re planning?”

“Charles, what do you mean? If we misuse their limited trust, then it could make things so much worse.”

“Y/n, I’m aware of the possible repercussions. It’s the reason why I’m against it.” No other reason. None at all that had to do with you. “But I would rather sacrifice our alliance with Redull than the people of Enza. I’m getting orders from Lorenzo. I can’t disobey him. But I need you to come with me. Please.” He took a step towards you.

“You didn’t need to ask,” you said. “I would follow you anywhere.”

“And I you.”

“Be safe, dear.” Queen Pascale kissed you on both cheeks. “It’s a cruel world out there. My mother always said, be nicer than the cruel world, or be crueller. I trust you to make the right decision. She was quite the woman.”

“Of course, my Queen.” You curtsied quickly, smiling at the Queen mother’s words. You and Queen Pascale had created a quiet bond during your time in Enza. “And you as well.”

Charles was busy talking with his brothers, but once you stepped towards the waiting carriage, he quickly left them to help you.

“Good luck,” Arthur called. You waved in return. You shifted over so Charles could squeeze in next to you, even though the seat opposite was wide open. Your hand immediately gripped his, intertwining your fingers. You justified it by wanting some solace.

Queen Pascale, having seen this, leaned over to her youngest and whispered, “See? And he said he didn’t care about this girl.”

153 notes · View notes

miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 4

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of misogyny, swearing

ao3 link next chapter>>

You woke to a loud knocking on the door. What the hell? you thought. Sara and Elena usually gave a soft knock before coming in to gently wake you. Who was making such a racket?

“Y/n! Future princess of Enzaaaaaaa! Wake the fuck up!” You bolted upright, recognising the voice.

“Brenda!” you shrieked. The door banged open and your sister appeared. Two of your brothers walked in behind her. Sara and Elena rushed past them.

“My Lady, we are so sorry!” Sara apologised.

“Never apologise for my sister!” You hugged Brenda tightly. “Otherwise you would be apologising forever.”

“Shush!” Brenda laughed loudly. “I missed you so much!”

“How’ve you been, Y/n?” Your oldest brother, Robert, pulled you in for a hug. He ruffled your hair and said, “put on some clothes, why don’t you?”

“God, I hate you.” Sara handed you a robe and you threw it on. “I’ve been… dealing. It’s been fine.”

“Come here,” your younger brother, Ralph, consoled you. “You were always terrible at hiding emotions. Really, how are you?”

At those words, you broke down crying. “I miss you so much!” Robert and Brenda joined in the sibling hug and held you as you sniffled.

“Sweetie,” Brenda cooed. “It’s okay. I promise you’ll feel better soon. And no crying while we’re here.”

“How are Marie and Kaitlyn?” You asked about your other sisters.

“I last wrote them a month ago,” Brenda said. “They seemed great! Marie held a ball a while ago.”

Is this what your life would be reduced to? Holding occasional balls and writing to family members every other month? Your future never seemed more boring.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though you didn’t want to tempt the fates.

“Do you honestly think Brenda would let us miss your wedding?” Robert asked, chuckling.

“Right,” you sighed. “That’s tomorrow. But where are mother and father?”

Ralph rolled his eyes. “Completing boring royal procedures. They’ll come by tonight or tomorrow. Meanwhile, we got to see our sister!”

“And where’s the future husband?” Brenda asked in a teasing tone.

As if I’m cue, a knock sounded on the open door. “Excuse me?” You whipped around to find Prince Charles grinning timidly.

“Prince Charles,” your brothers bowed.

Brenda giggled and said, “hello future brother-in-law! We shouldn’t need to bow to you, should we? It’s nice to meet you!”

“No, you don’t need to bow.” Charles laughed with Brenda, adjusting to her vigor. He shook her hand. “You’re Brenda, correct?”

“Yes! I hope Y/n hasn’t bad-mouthed me too much. This is Robert and Ralph.” Charles shook hands with your brothers.

“Nice to meet you,” Charles greeted politely. “I’m glad that you’re visiting us.”

“We couldn’t miss Y/n’s wedding.” Ralph said, “she’s done so much for us over the years.”

“And we couldn’t pass up the free food!” Brenda joked.

“You and my brother Arthur would get along fabulously,” Charles stated to your sister.

“Unfortunately, I’m a happily married woman,” Brenda said. “But I wouldn’t mind having a new best friend. Ever since this one ditched me,” she pointed at you. “I’ve been so lonely.”

“I only got your letter yesterday!” You defended, “you have to expect communication to take longer.”

While you and your sister bickered, Charles said to your brothers, “she’s a completely different person. Usually, Princess Y/n is apprehensive and timid. She doesn’t speak at all; when she does, it’s very quiet.”

“Y/n? Timid? Quiet?” Ralph laughed. “Wait until she opens up. That’s not the Y/n we know and love.”

“Have you thought about getting her away from the palace?” Robert suggested. “When we were growing up, she didn’t love being around the court. She used to complain about it being uptight and superficial. And yes, as a seven year old, she used the word ‘superficial’. Bizarre, isn’t it? Yet, when we would visit our grandmother’s estate in the country, she would open up. Become more lively and active. She loved the barn, though our mother always worried she would scrape her knee or muddy her dress.”

“Didn’t she name all of the newborn piglets?” Ralph asked. “There was Poe, Garth, Bean, Tassel, and… oh, what was the other one?”

“Corn,” Robert recalled.

“That was it!” Ralph clapped his hands. “I knew I was forgetting one.”

Charles was enamoured by your brothers’ stories. The tales they told sounded implausible. It was unbelievable to hear all of the mischief you had gotten into when you were young. Charles made it his mission to make you feel comfortable enough to open up. He wanted to get to know you- not the one who was shielding away from him. It wouldn’t be a true marriage if the bride was a shell of herself, right?

“Tell me more,” Charles prompted Ralph and Robert. “What other adventures did Princess Y/n get into as a child?”

“Don’t be scared, sweetie,” Brenda pulled at a strand of your hair. “Everything is okay. Take a deep breath.”

“Where’s mama?” you asked.

Brenda opened her mouth, took a moment, and said, “she’s waiting in the church.”

You nodded slowly. Apparently, your mother and father were more concerned with meeting new allies than their daughter on her wedding day.

“Princess Y/n?” A knock sounded on the door and you vaguely recognized Queen Pascale’s voice. “May I come in?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” You had only seen your sister bow to her husband, so you were shocked when she did it to the queen of Enza.

“You don’t have to do that,” Pascale smiled and reached out to lift Brenda into a standing position. “Princesses, how are you?”

“I’m splendid. Are you splendid? I am perfectly splendid!” You worried you had said the word ‘splendid’ too much.

You couldn’t stop running your hands over your dress. The fabric felt odd against your sweaty hands. “Do you know what else is today? It’s the reception, where I have to talk to dignitaries and monarchs who I can’t remember the names of. And then there’s the dinner and the dance- Oh, Brenda! What if I forget the dance?! And after I forget the dance and mess up in front of everyone, then it’s the…” You swallowed and looked around for a glass of water. Or better yet, wine.

“The wedding night?” Brenda guessed. You nodded.

“Your Highness, I am so sorry,” you said to Pascale. “I’m trying to be composed, but it’s proving very difficult. Your son seems incredibly thoughtful and considerate, but can you understand why I’m frightened?”

“Yes. I understand perfectly. It can be nerve wracking going into a marriage and not having connected with them.” Queen Pascale sat down on a sofa.

Brenda added on, “and don’t worry about tonight. I’m sure Prince Charles will take care of you.” She grimaced awkwardly at the Queen, feeling uncomfortable talking about Pascale’s son right in front of her.

Pascale snickered in a very un-queen-like way. “Dear, I don’t care what you say about my son. I’ve changed his dirty diapers. I’ve seen it all.”

You smiled, wanting to laugh at her words. A sense of longing suddenly washed over you, a small part of you wanting it to be your own mother who was comforting you.

Nonetheless, you were still grateful for Queen Pascale’s words. You wondered if she would be open to visiting you at the Foundling Villa. You had already told your siblings all about it, and Brenda was scheduled to visit you two weeks from now.

Speaking of the Foundling Villa, you had Sara and Elena visit it two days ago. They had met with the housekeeper and her small staff. With the housekeeper’s suggestions, they had vetted and hired a stable master- someone by the name Lando Norris- and a cook that went by Chef Yuki. You had asked Sara and Elena to start packing during the wedding so the moment the sun came up tomorrow, you could leave.

“Are you ready?” Brenda asked.

“Do you want the truth?” you replied.

Queen Pascale shook her head. “Never tell them the truth. Only tell them what they want to know.”

Robert appeared at the door. “It’s time.” He sucked in a breath, wondering if it was better to feel excited for you, or nervous. He wasn’t naïve. He wanted to talk to Prince Charles about not messing with his younger sister, but he also knew that Enza was a much more powerful state than Williams. Robert couldn’t threaten their prince, even if he was trying to protect you.

As Robert walked you to the church entrance, you whispered, “I’m glad you’re the one walking me down the aisle.”

“As am I,” Robert admitted. “Father would be too uptight.”

You sunk into his side. “I missed you so much. You’ll come visit?”

“Yes! I want to see the Foundling Villa.” The doors opened to a room filled with nobles. They all stood to stare at you. An organ started. There were so many people. “Ralph might visit with me,” Robert kept talking, even though you were currently marching towards Prince Charles and a priest that was ready to seal your future. A long, inconvenient veil fell from your head and two little girls were holding up the ends. “Okay, wow, that’s an impressive grip!” Robert chuckled nervously, wanting to remove your hand from his arm. “Right now, I am going to keep talking so you can listen to my voice and have something to ground yourself on. You look beautiful today. Sara did a wonderful job on your hair. Look, there’s Brenda and mother and father,” his voice slipped away. The only sound you could focus on was your quickening heartbeat. “Breathe,” Robert gave you one last instruction before placing your hand in Prince Charles’s. You registered his outfit- the royal mantle Este had commissioned for him. He looked good. His hair was slicked away from his green eyes which kicked onto yours.

Prince Charles took your hand and turned to face the priest. The organ came to the end of its song and the girls behind you set down your veil.

Internally, Charles was freaking out. Yes, you were beautiful and he wanted to cultivate a relationship with you, but that didn’t mean he wanted to marry you! Lorenzo had motioned to him multiple times to loosen up. Before the wedding, Arthur had reminded him to stop clenching his jaw and hands. King Hervé gently told Charles to smile at you.

He didn’t remember any of their advice.

The priest started talking, “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of these two unions.”

Charles remembered seeing your mother and father before the wedding. They had been conversing with the monarchs of Redull before the rulers of Wolff swept them away to talk. The priest, who was still talking, had been implanted in Charles’ memories since the beginning. The priest had been the one to baptise all of the Leclerc brothers. Charles had seen your maids running about this morning. He wondered what they were preparing for. It couldn’t have been the wedding; you had been whisked away early in the morning to get prepared.

“Prince Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of Enza,” the priest turned towards Charles. Was the man already done with the speech? Charles hadn’t realised. “Do you take Princess Y/n M/n L/n of Williams to be your lawfully wedded wife? For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part, and according to God’s holy law?”

“I do,” Charles said. He noticed the word ‘love’ didn’t come up in the vows.

“And Princess Y/n M/n L/n of Williams,” the priest’s eyes never left the page. You stiffened and Charles gripped your hand. “Do you take Prince Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of Enza, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” You paled at the word. “For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part, and according to God’s holy law? Do you pledge yourself to both him and his kingdom?”

You exhaled and said, “I do.”

“I pronounce Prince and Princess Leclerc of Enza! You may now kiss the bride.”

Prince Charles faced you, quirked a brow in silent question, and when you gave a sharp nod, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

#Foundling Villa #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #hervé leclerc #lord perceval #lando norris #yuki tsunoda #monarchy #prince!charles leclerc x reader #prince!charles leclerc

171 notes · View notes

miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 3

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of misogyny

ao3 link next chapter>>

“What are our three takeaways?” True to his word, Lorenzo had sat his brothers down in a small library and given them a lesson on how to correctly please a girl. Charles would never admit it, but he learned a lot. Being a prince under the scrutiny of the court, he didn’t have a lot of time to fool around with girls. Lorenzo was the only Leclerc brother who had gone all the way; and that was only because he tied the knot.

Arthur groaned, running a hand over his face. The poor boy had been scarred for life. “Aim for the neck like a wild animal you want to kill, wiggling is great, and you’re horse racing.”

“Charles?” Lorenzo waited for him to translate Arthur’s words into something not as sarcastic.

“The neck is a sensitive spot,” Charles rattled off. “Don’t discount your fingers… down there. And change paces and speed.”

“Exactly.” Lorenzo nodded. “Trust me, your wives will thank me.”

“I’m not married yet!” Charles exclaimed, standing and stalking out of the room. He rubbed his temples, wanting to erase the memory of the last hour. Lorenzo had pulled out old medical books with diagrams Charles wanted to forget. His mind unwillingly went to you. Would sex be all that Lorenzo said it was?

As if he had wished you into existence, you rounded the corner in front of him, following a maid. Your head was bowed and you shuffled along, as if you were a child awaiting punishment. That is not how a future princess of Enza should look, Charles thought.

He had spent the past days under the careful eye of his mother, the Queen inputting her opinions whenever she could. Admittedly, Pascale had made him see things from your perspective. Charles thought about what it would be like moving to Williams where he would be leaving his family and didn’t know anyone- not even his future bride. He knew of the misogyny that was still held over the women of this continent and couldn’t imagine what you must be feeling. Having to play the silent, passive type, without knowing what Charles was like. What if he quelled your ideas with a flick of his hand? Or if he was abusive? Or wouldn’t take no for an answer?

Charles had shuddered at those thoughts. The simple prospect that you might mistake him for a vulgar and insensitive man baffled him.

“Excuse me,” Charles stepped in front of the maid that was escorting you. “May I ask where you’re taking Princess Y/n?”

“Your Highness!” The maid dropped into a low curtsy. “Princess Y/n is scheduled for a dress fitting. The seamstresses have made her wedding gown and need to make sure it fits.”

“That sounds lovely.” Charles found you staring at him sceptically. You looked away when he caught your eye. “Would you mind if I accompanied you?”

The maid turned back to you. It wasn’t her place to agree or refuse. You were the princess, after all.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t mind.” Prince Charles held out his arm and you placed yours over his. “How are you?” you asked.

“Not bad. I was just lectured by my brother, though, so I could be better.”

“Oh? What about?”

“Anatomy.”

You chuckled. “Yes, I received the same lecture from my older sister. It’s a shame older siblings tend to be so direct.”

“Indeed it is.” Prince Charles shifted topics, “my mother said she had a lovely brunch with you yesterday.”

“As did I.” You smiled at the memory. “She’s a wonderful woman, Prince Charles. Very considerate and sweet.” Queen Pascale has asked you many questions about yourself and never once brought up the impending marriage. She made you feel human and not just another thing to be auctioned off for the sake of your kingdom.

“Have you met my brothers?” Prince Charles asked.

“Have you met mine?” Your reply was harsh and quick. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. No, I haven’t had the chance to officially meet your brothers yet.”

“I’m sorry as well,” Charles sympathised for you. You were expected to conform to his kingdom whereas he had never set foot in yours. “But your siblings, they’re coming to the wedding?”

“My eldest brother, sister, and my youngest brother.”

“What of your other two sisters?” You were surprised he remembered you had two more siblings.

“Um,” you stumbled for the correct wording. “Their husbands are too busy.”

“Can’t they come alone?” Charles realised his mistake. Your sisters couldn’t travel without their husband’s permission. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He promised himself that he would always allow you to do what you wanted. He wanted you to feel so safe and welcomed and loved that you didn’t even ask him for permission.

“It’s alright.”

“Your Highness, my Lady,” the maid addressed you, pushing open a door. Prince Charles guided you through it and into an expansive room. Many seamstresses were running about, putting the finishing touches on gowns and robes and tunics for the wedding. Bundles of fabric were thrown about the place and practically every seamstress had pins sticking out of their hair to fix the clothes of the royal family. Tailor dummies were positioned around the room, each in front of a large mirror. You saw King Hervé, Queen Pascale, Prince Lorenzo, and Prince Arthur’s outfits. You didn’t see yours or Prince Charles’s. Once you and Prince Charles stepped in the room the hectic energy ceased in time for everyone to curtsy before returning to their task.

“Princess Y/n!” A man called out to you. “My name is Esteban! Call me Este! I’m the head tailor for Enza. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Charles hid a smile at Este’s enthusiasm.

“Hello Este!” You reached out and grabbed his hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Are these all your designs?”

“Yes, of course!” Este gestured around. “Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful!”

“Would you like to see yours?” Este couldn’t stop beaming. He was so excited to show you the gown he designed.

“Yes, please!” Something about Este radiated intoxicating energy and you loved it. You felt excited for the first time in a long while.

“Come on, stand here,” Este pushed you towards a small pedestal in front of a mirror. “Monica! Help the princess.”

A seamstress rushed over to you and started unbuttoning your dress. “Uh, pardon me,” you instinctively jerked away. “What are you doing?” Your gaze flickered to Prince Charles. His eyes were anywhere but you.

“I’m sorry, my Lady, but we need to make sure the dress fits.” She kept unbuttoning. “You may still keep your slip-on.”

Soon you were reduced to nothing. Standing, literally, on a pedestal in front of everyone, you were only wearing a flimsy little linen chemise. Your arms were crossed in front of you and you were staring at your toes.

“Are you sure Prince Charles should be here for this?” You asked, “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding gown?”

“Nonsense!” Este waves you away. “It’ll give us a chance to make sure his suit fits as well. Go on up!” Este pushed Prince Charles onto the adjourning pedestal. “Take it off,” he demanded.

Prince Charles smiled sheepishly at you and started unbuttoning his tunic. You looked away when he started on his pants. Soon, both you and your future husband were dressed only in your undergarments and you still had three weeks until the wedding.

“Princess Y/n,” Este dragged over a large swath of pink material. “I know we said a red dress, but I couldn’t let you have a wedding without a somewhat white dress. I would feel terrible. So, if you mix red and white, what do you get?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. “A lovely rose colour!” Este bunched the dress on the floor so you could step in. Once you did, a team of seamstresses swarmed you, hooking, buttoning, and tying everything into its correct place. “And don’t you worry, Prince Charles,” Este winked at the prince. “It’s much easier to get off than it is to put on.” Charles nodded, chuckling awkwardly.

“Wow…” Once the seamstresses stepped back proudly, you took yourself in. The dress was one of the softest, yet heaviest things you had ever worn. To account for Enza’s weather and the fact that you and Prince Charles would be paraded around town after the wedding, your sleeves were thin and airy. Paired with a sweetheart-neckline and a tight corset which exploded into a thick skirt, it was beautiful. Lace and small jewels cascaded down the gown.

Charles let out a breath. He saw you admiring yourself in the mirror and smiled. You felt beautiful. He wanted you to feel beautiful more often. He liked your expression when you did.

“It’s wonderful,” you told Este, grinning. “I didn’t think I would like it this much. But would it be possible to lose a layer of fabric? Enza is much warmer than Williams and I wouldn’t want to sweat.” The honesty surprised Charles. Once you arrived in Enza, Charles had quickly realised that you would conform your emotions to whatever others wanted. If you didn’t like the food at the dinner table, you would eat it anyway in fear of offending the cooks. It surprised Charles that you were openly asking for adjustments.

“Of course, Princess!” Este rushed to take notes. “And let’s take it in here, here, and see that stitch right there? I don’t love it.” He started directing the seamstresses who pulled out pins and did what Este commanded. “And Chelsea! Where’s Prince Charles’s outfit?”

Chelsea stopped sewing and swept up the cloth. She helped Charles climb into the royal mantle. The jacket was blue with golden threads stitched over it. Pressed white tunic and pants added to the wedding outfit and you could almost picture a crown on Prince Charles’ head, shining brightly. Chelsea clipped on a white and black cloak. He looked regal. Granted, he was a prince. He was always regal.

“You look good,” you commented.

“As do you,” Charles wasn’t looking at the gown; he was looking at you.

You broke eye contact and asked Este, “is there anything else we can do for you?”

“No, this all looks beautiful!” Este said. “Let’s get you two undressed so we can make the final adjustments.”

You agreed, saying, “I may have to visit here more often. I adore these dresses you have,” you referenced other gowns that lined the walls. “And I would like to alter some of my existing outfits. Maybe get rid of some of the sleeves and layers?”

“Anytime, Princess! We would love to have you down here!” Este clapped excitedly. “Welcome to the Enza family!”

You took a deep breath. The Enza family. You needed to buy the Foundling Villa, and soon.

#Foundling Villa #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #hervé leclerc #lord perceval #esteban ocon #este ocon #monarchy #prince!charles leclerc x reader #prince!charles leclerc

166 notes · View notes

miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 5

Tag list (wow, that's a thing now for this): @notleclerc @sunsumonner

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, shitty parents, alcohol, and literally only the word r*pe once time, but only in a passing thought

ao3 link next chapter>>

“Salut!” The room uproariously cheered. Everyone raised their glasses towards the high table. Your smile was forced as you lifted your goblet with them and downed the wine. Charles cracked a grin of his own. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. You had seemed so reluctant, yet formal about it. Charles knew the kiss was mandatory, but you had stared at him with such sadness and hopelessness that he felt bad.

It didn’t matter now. You two were married, after all.

Still, Charles couldn’t help but dread the upcoming wedding night.

Your hand was still clutched in his and Charles couldn’t find the energy to let it go. Joined together, a symbol of how the two of you were under the law, your hands sat on the head table where your immediate families sat with you. The toasts to good health, marriage, and fertility had seemed to go on forever and Charles couldn’t get more than a few bites of food in without feeling sick.

Your mother leaned over to whisper in your ear, “smile, Y/n. You look like you’ve married the Devil. This is not the worst thing that could happen to you.”

“Isn’t it time for the first dance?” Queen Pascale smiled tightly and tapped the table sharply.

Arthur nodded and stood. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, I am pleased to present Prince and Princess Leclerc of Enza in their first dance as husband and wife!”

Prince Charles rose to his feet, your hand rising with him. “My lady,” he mumbled.

You fisted your dress in your hand and manoeuvred around the chairs at the high table. Prince Charles waited patiently.

As you descended the steps with your husband, the court clapped politely and cleared a space in the middle of the floor.

Prince Charles guided you to the open space where you were surrounded by people you didn’t know. Musicians softly started playing a loving, haunting tune and Prince Charles bowed to you before you returned the gesture by curtsying.

It was a customary wedding dance; you had seen it many times before, yet it was unsettling to be performing it yourself. You tried to remember all the movements. Step forward, arm out, step back, and spin. You knew that if you messed up, the court would remember it forever. Prince Charles pressed a hand to the small of your back to steady you for a twirl. Instinctively, you pulled away. He tugged you back towards him in warning.

“Do you find it interesting that Redull diplomats are here?” you asked as Prince Charles and you danced to the left and then the right.

“Are you seriously talking about foreign policy during our first dance?” Prince Charles stifled a laugh.

“What else am I to talk about?” You were genuinely confused. Wouldn’t the remainder of your life be talking about civil things that didn’t interest you, but were appropriate enough for court? Yet how would that differ from your life in Williams?

Prince Charles shrugged. “What do normal people talk about during their first dance?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Prince Charles sighed and conceded, “yes. I think it odd that Redull representatives are present. But they were invited. Every leader from every kingdom was.”

You groaned. “Are we now obligated to attend their events as well?”

“I’m afraid so,” Prince Charles couldn't suppress a chuckle. Queen Pascale and Brenda both smiled at the prince’s laugh.

“Such a pity. Why can’t Prince Lorenzo be the one to frequent their events?”

“Lorenzo takes care of the domestic affairs. I’m the face of Enza, being the spokesperson of the Leclerc’s. Arthur, being the young and cute one, often visits the villages and towns of Enza and maintains connections with the people. We all have our roles. If need be, we relay issues back to our father,” Prince Charles explained to you, still waltzing.

“I guess you’re right,” you hummed. “Arthur is the cute one.”

Prince Charles rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you think that. At least one of the Leclerc’s has your approval.”

“Not just Arthur.” You paused before adding, “your mother too.” Prince Charles laughed loudly that time, drawing the attention of the room. Nobles whispered to each other about how the princess of Williams and the prince of Enza were lucky to have found each other; a happy arranged marriage was very rare.

With one last flourish, the musicians ended their song, prompting you and Prince Charles to release hands and bow to one another. Other royals soon swarmed the dance floor and the wedding was once again full of lively chatter.

“Prince Leclerc,” a man placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder after he exited the dance floor, you still on his arm.

“Prince Verstappen,” Charles greeted Redull’s prince.

“A wonderful wedding and a wonderful bride,” Prince Verstappen congratulated Charles. “I hope for bright things in your future.”

“Yours as well. How has Redull been doing? Your father?”

“My father has been fine,” Prince Verstappen’s smile seemed forced. Charles noticed something shift in his eyes. “And Redull has been thriving. We believe our resources and trade will be expanding soon enough.”

“What are you suggesting?” Charles clenched his jaw. He didn’t like what Prince Verstappen was hinting at. The Redull’s were known for their secrecy and he thought back to Lorenzo’s warning of a Redull army on Enza borders.

“New prospects have opened up, is all.” Prince Verstappen grinned. “To the new princess of Enza,” he raised his glass towards you.

Charles placed his free hand on top of yours, nodding stoically at Prince Verstappen. You lifted a brow at Prince Charles’s non-mandatory physical contact. “Thank you,” Charles said before whisking you off to the high table. He didn’t like what Prince Verstappen was implying, especially around you. If things were to reach a boiling point, he would much rather do it when you were out of the vicinity and harms way.

“What was that about?” you asked, letting Prince Charles hand you off to your father.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I need to discuss something with my brothers, but I’m sure King L/n wouldn’t mind dancing with you?”

“Not at all!” your father said, taking your hand. “I’ve been looking forward to dancing with my newlywed daughter.”

Charles instantly noticed a change in your demeanour. Keeping your head and eyes lowered, you shrunk into yourself while dancing with your father. Your lips hardly moved when answering his questions, and you only allowed yourself the customary touch. Charles wasn’t sure, but he would expect a daughter to be more loving and embrace her father.

He would talk to you about it later.

“Lorenzo, Arthur,” he found his brothers conversing with a small group of Enza’s lords and advisors, all with tunics or jackets sporting Enza colours. The group bombarded Charles with congratulations but he quickly brushed them off, not before letting a small, genuine smile push into his features.

“You’re not happy on your wedding day?!” a knight, Daniel, cried out.

“Yes, I’m very happy,” Charles said with a bit more truth than he would ever admit. “But I’m more concerned with Redull right now.”

“What happened?” A lord, Carlos, asked.

“Prince Verstappen…” Charles trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his words. “Prince Verstappen was bragging about Redull’s trade expansion. Do we have any information about that? On what they could possibly be planning?”

“Mate,” his best friend, Pierre, clapped him on the back. “You shouldn’t be worrying about that shit tonight. Give it a week or two and I’m sure it’ll all be sorted out. If it’s not, then we’ll worry about it.”

“Alright, yeah,” Charles conceded.

“Now go rescue your wife,” Daniel pushed him towards the dance floor. “I’m not sure a bride should look so nervous.”

Indeed, you were anxious. All you wanted to do was find your siblings and leave the stuffy, overcrowded room full of people intent on speaking with you.

When you spotted Brenda and Ralph across the floor, you were relieved. So, when Prince Charles swooped in and gently grabbed your arm, you were less than pleased.

“Yes?” your tone had an under layer of unnecessary harshness. You marched on, focusing on the end goal of your sister and brother. Prince Charles quickly matched your pace to follow.

“I wanted to see how you were faring. It seems like quite a few lords and ladies want to get on the good side of the princess of Enza.”

“They should know it’s fruitless.”

“Wow,” Charles smirked. “Not letting people into your circle, are you?”

You scoffed. “My circle consists of me. I hate to disappoint, but the moment I crossed the border, everyone else I trusted evaporated.”

Charles frowned and said, “you didn’t want to come here.” It wasn’t a question.

“If that wasn’t clear, then maybe I should avoid you more.”

“We promised to be hospitable to one another!” Charles protested, trying to keep his voice low so prying ears wouldn’t pick up the potential gossip like vultures looking for their next meal. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain, yet you’ve let your end fall.”

“Every couple has their lovers quarrels,” you finally caught the eye of your brother, silently signalling for aid.

Charles, at an unusual loss for words, watched helplessly as Ralph whisked you away to the dance floor. Your brother whispered something in your ear and you engaged him in fervent conversation.

“You’ll treat her well?” Brenda appeared at his side. Charles jumped slightly before taking a glass of wine from a passing servant and swallowing it in one gulp.

“Of course,” Charles muttered. He was tired of people asking him that. Did they expect him to be a heartless monster that beat or raped you? He was going to make sure you were happy; albeit that being as far as he went. If you were unable to meet him halfway, Charles was more than inclined to ignore you.

“And you’ll visit her?” Brenda pressed her lips to her own wine glass.

“Pardon?” Charles glanced over at your sister, brows furrowing.

“Visit her,” Brenda repeated. “At the Villa?”

“What villa? What are you going on about?”

“Oh, shit.” Brenda sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I hadn’t realised she hadn’t told you yet. Forget this ever happened. I’m sure Y/n will inform you soon. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Princess Brenda,” Charles said. “Is this something I should be aware of?”

“These are not my details to disclose.” Brenda lifted her goblet in goodbye.

What was she talking about? Charles wondered. Visiting you? Were you leaving? He was unaware of a trip you had scheduled, and that was something he thought he should know about. Before he could go question you, however, a bell tolled loudly, signalling it to be ten o’clock.

Internally, he cursed as every member of the court in his vicinity turned to stare at him. Seeing as every activity had stopped, he easily found you in the crowd. As Charles walked towards you, he noted your sunken eyes and the way the grip on your brother tightened.

“Princess,” he murmured, offering his arm. You took it without a word.

“Good luck,” Ralph whispered. You looked back and offered a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

As you and Prince Charles exited the room to a loud ovation, you wanted to sigh heavily. It was odd enough that the guests continued partying while you and the Prince consummated the marriage; it was weirder that they knew about it.

150 notes · View notes

miryum · 10 months

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 14

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Swearing, uhhhh talk of war and..... FLUFF (aka kissing and YAY we’re finally getting somewhere!!!!)

ao3 link next chapter>>

A loud banging awoke you suddenly. You bolted upright, breaths coming irregularly. “What’s happening?!” Your covers tangled around your feet and you kicked them away.

“My lady!” Sara burst into the room. “Lord Jules is requesting your presence right away!”

The clanging continued and you wanted to cover your ears. “What is that?”

“Warning bells.” Sara helped you pull on your robe. “They’re sounding from every village.”

“Why?”

“Princess, I’m not at liberty to disclose that. Lord Jules will explain everything. Please, you need to go downstairs!” Sara practically pushed you down the hall and towards the steps.

It had been three weeks since you first arrived at Schumacher Estate. You had spent your time writing letters to Charles and Prince Verstappen and conversing with Jules and Pierre. As it turns out, Jules had hilarious stories about Charles as a child and all the antics he had gotten up to. Jules also had insights into the tensions between Redull and Enza and you spent many a meal grilling him on all he knew. Jules laughed at your concerns and assured you everything would be alright. He had turned into a much needed calming presence in your life.

When you weren’t arguing with Pierre, sharing tea with Jules, or writing to your husband, you were put riding with Lando. It helped take your mind off anxieties that plagued your mind and Lando commented on your quick learning.

“Steward Jules,” you bent at the waist, quickly righting yourself. “I was told- Charles?!” Across the room, there stood your husband. His clothes were in tatters and his hair was ruffled, dirt smeared on his face. Blood speckled his clothing and a gash tore through his bicep.

A look of shock crossed his face as you barrelled into him, clutching him tightly. After a moment, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. Charles felt you nestle into him. He paused for a moment, waiting for you to break away. But you didn’t. He took the opportunity to hug you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t know when he'd have the chance to hug you like this again. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I was worried about you. And I missed you.” You stepped back, becoming aware of the other people in the room. Jules hid his smile. “What are you doing here? And why do you look so… dishevelled?” You wiped some of the dirt from his forehead. Charles made a face and jokingly pushed your hand away.

Pierre laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying you look like a piece of shit.”

“Pierre,” Jules reprimanded him. It was then that the men remembered what they gathered for. The tension grew insurmountably and tense looks were thrown around. “Now is not the time. Charles, please continue.” It was then you realised that Charles had demanded you to be in the room before his announcement.

“Enza is at war.”

It seemed as if all faded away as Charles explained how Redull troops had stormed the Enza palace and taken Lorenzo prisoner. He explained how he had barely escaped, having to fight off half a dozen men just to get to the stables and find a horse. He explained how he saw his friends and subjects fall in a haze of blood.

He explained how Williams forces fought alongside Redull.

“Y/n? Cherié?” Charles stepped towards you, cupping a hand along your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can fix this, I promise! If I can just talk to my parents they’ll have to see- I mean they can’t just- but what of our alliance?” You shook your head and extracted yourself from Charles’ embrace.

Jules gripped Pierre’s forearm and whispered something to him. Pierre nodded, stoic for once, and followed Jules out of the room. You barely registered their exchange.

“Y/n,” Charles sighed and hung his head. “We- Enza doesn’t have an alliance with Williams anymore. I’m sorry to tell you.”

“What?” You felt your world slipping out from under you. Charles led you to a couch where your legs folded under you and you collapsed. “But how could they…? They promised. They signed a treaty, Charles!”

“I know,” Charles sat down next to you. He had his hands clutched in his lap and you desperately wanted them to be holding you- comforting you.

“Don’t they know the consequences?”

“They don’t care, Y/n. They have Redull to back them up. I… I don’t know if we have the resources to fight them.”

“But Enza is one of the most powerful kingdoms.” You felt your love for your home kingdom slipping away. Instead, it was replaced by love for your husband’s home. Enza, and its people, had welcomed you with open arms and only wanted to see you happy and comfortable. Williams had done none of those things.

“But how can we be powerful without the people?” Charles’ voice started to grow. He stood up and started pacing. Mindlessly, he ripped off his sleeve and wound it around his hurt arm. “Y/n, if you’d seen what I’d seen, you wouldn’t think a simple conversation with your parents could solve anything. I- I don’t know if my mother is alive or where they’re taking my brothers.” His voice cracked. “Helpless and innocent servants were slaughtered just trying to protect me. This cannot be settled over a cup of tea. Enza must fight back, but with what?” It was like he was having a conversation with himself. “They rampaged the villages before the castle. If they haven’t killed the knights by now, they will soon. It’ll take days before reinforcements and allies can come to our aid, and by then, Enza will be split between Redull and Williams. How they managed to get through Wolff and Haas without conflict is beyond me. I’ll have Jules send word to our allies and demand they meet here. It’s the only safe house we have left. Laren and Tauri are on our side, and hopefully Wolff and Haas. But without Williams…” he trailed off, glancing at you.

You were curled into yourself, still in your nightclothes. Your breathing was erratic and shallow. Your gaze was fixed on the opposite wall. And betrayal was written on your face. While Charles studied you, you slowly looked up to meet his eye. “Charles, what does this mean for us?”

It was not the question he was expecting.

“What do you mean, cherié?”

“We were the ones holding the treaty together. But now, with it null and void, what does that mean for us? For our marriage?” Charles hated the uncertainty in your voice, but he hated the sadness even more. The desperation.

“Y/n, I didn’t want to tell you, but because the alliance is broken, so could our marriage be. If you wish, you could return to Williams and be free of my name.” Charles couldn’t look you in the eye.

“You knew about this?” Your lips parted in shock as you stood to meet his stance.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve known for three weeks.” His breath hitched, yet his voice continued to rise. “But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you-”

“Why?” You demanded, “Charles, this decides our future and I would think I should be a part of that! Why couldn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I love you!” Charles cried. “Because I love you and I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“Charlie…” At the same time, it was as if your heart broke, yet filled with love. The hopelessness that rang out through Charles’ words was quickly masked by their meaning. “You love me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Charles chuckled awkwardly. He looked up to find you in front of him, hand hovering over his cheek. He wanted nothing more for you to close the distance and touch him. If you did, Charles was content staying in your touch as the rest of the world burned around him. He just needed you.

“I think it was when you showed up at the Foundling Villa for the first time?” You shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Or maybe during our carriage rides? I’m not sure.”

“What are you talking about?” Charles frowned, a loose smile on his lips. You decided that you liked the soft curve of his lips and the brown flecks in his green eyes.

“I’m trying to figure out when I fell in love with you.” You shrugged, finally letting your hand settle into his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone.

Charles’ eyes fluttered shut and his breath was shaky, but his smile grew. “I like that. Wait, you… you love me too?” You nodded. “I- I never thought you would love me.”

“Neither did I,” you confessed.

Charles chuckled. “You called me Charlie. I like that.”

A deep aching filled your chest and you finally had a name for it: love that was so strong you could feel it in your bones. Little did you know, Charles was feeling the same way. “Can I kiss you?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You don’t have to ask, cherié.” Charles smirked and you didn’t realise he could get even more attractive.

The kiss was chaste at first, but when Charles placed a hand on your waist, pulling you against him, it deepened. You wrapped your arms around Charles’ neck, desperate to feel more of him. With a laugh, he pulled away, pressing kisses along your neck. You joined him in quiet laughter as he started gently nibbling along your collarbone. You tried to hold back a moan when he ran his tongue over a mark that was sure to show in the morning. “Don’t hold back on me, cherié,” Charles’ chuckles rumbled through his chest. Heat flushed through your body.

“Wha- what of the war?” you asked. Your eyes closed as Charles started sucking on a new spot.

“Jules will- hmm, send out the letters. There is little we can do until then.”

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded.

Charles raised a brow. “Would you like to continue the wedding night?”

Your heart started beating a little quicker. “Lead the way.”

😁 😘 You’ll have to wait until the next chapter!

114 notes · View notes

miryum · 10 months

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 13

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Swearing, I think...? Is that all?

ao3 link next chapter>>

“Do you hear yourself?” Arthur chuckled nervously. “Charles, you can’t be serious.”

“Maybe not, but we can at least spare a cavalry, right? Give the bastards a taste of their own medicine.”

“Charles….” Lorenzo cradled his head in his hands. “We are not sending our men over to Redull just because one of their Dukes insulted Princess Y/n.”

“He put his hands on her!” Charles’ tried to keep his voice from rising. It was proving difficult.

“And you punched him. All is fair,” Arthur said.

“I still don’t like it,” Charles grumbled and slouched down in his chair. Pascale wanted to roll her eyes at her son’s immaturity, but she was happy it came from a place of love. She wasn’t sure what your relationship with Charles was, but Pascale knew love-struck fools when she saw them.

“If it makes you feel better,” Lorenzo said, “I had Hasting removed from his title of Dukedom.”

Charles mumbled something under his breath, but his brothers couldn’t hear what he said. Arthur would bet his title it was a flurry of swear words. “I still want Y/n to have more protection and security,” Charles insisted.

“Understandable. As would I, if someone hurt my wife.” Lorenzo nodded and gestured for someone to step forward. “That’s why I’ve asked Jules to accompany her to the Schumacher Estate. You may instruct one of your men to join them.”

Jules bowed to Charles and while he felt a blooming of relief at seeing his old friend and mentor, Charles still had his doubts. He would protect you at any cost, even if it meant checking over details thrice. “And why not the Foundling Villa?” Charles asked. “She feels more comfortable there.”

“Because, as you may have realised, the Foundling Villa cannot hold the amount of guards and servants Jules employs. Princess Y/n will have plenty of space for her and her servants, if she wishes to bring them.”

“Lorenzo,” Charles cut his brother off. “What is the real reason? We both know Jules doesn’t need the amount of servants the Schumacher Estate requires. He could easily move into the Foundling Villa if he chooses.”

Lorenzo sighed. Charles took notice of the eyebags and Lorenzo’s stuck up hair from running his hand through it one too many times. “Charles, I didn’t want to tell you this in fear of you informing Princess Y/n, but we have lost our alliance to Williams.”

“How is that possible?” Charles gaped. “The entire purpose of my marriage is to secure that alliance.”

“No, the entire purpose of your marriage was to secure supplies. Your little… argument with King and Queen L/n disrupted that tense trust. The alliance was shaky to begin with, but now it has crumbled.” Lorenzo explained, “We don’t know if Williams will now side with Redull, but we cannot trust Williams. King and Queen L/n know the location of the Foundling Villa, but the Schumacher Estate is very well hidden, protected, and easily defendable, as you’re aware.” Charles nodded once and Lorenzo continued, “For Princess Y/n’s safety, I want to move her there. I would done it whether or not Hasting came onto her.”

Pascale places her hand on Charles’. “My dear, I know the question running through your mind.” Charles’ eyes pricked with the telltale sign of tears. He blinked hard, pushing them away. His chest ached as though someone had splintered his heart. Charles was terrified. Pascale took a breath, and said, “if she wishes, then yes, she could divorce you. There is nothing binding you anymore.”

Charles turned and gripped his mother. His hug was more of a plea; a plea for Pascale to make you stay. His throat burned with a sob, but he held it in. Advisors were still in the room. He couldn’t let the extent of his sadness show. Pascale ran a hand through his hair, quiet. It should be you comforting him. But Charles would make sure you never knew. He would do everything in his power to keep you with him.

Even if it meant lying.

The carriage bumped along and you cursed. The letter you were attempting to write was ruined by a streak of wayward ink. Pierre Gasly snickered beside you. You glared at him, but both of you knew it was fake. You could never be mad at Pierre. Charles had chosen him to accompany you for a reason- the two of you got a lot splendidly.

Jules rolled his eyes, sitting across from you as you ripped the parchment and started over.

My dearest siblings,

Is it true? Are you forbidden from writing? Do Mother and Father have such a grip over you that they control what you pen?

It saddens me that they have such an impact on our lives.

I’m moving, once again. I didn’t mean to- nor am I sure I want to. But Charles thinks it’s for the best.

Speaking of my husband, what do I do if I fear he’s hiding from me? He’s been reserved the past few days, and I don’t know why. Brenda or Robert, do you have any suggestions? I know Ralph won’t have any helpful hints. Ralph, I want you to know that I am mentally flipping you off. There’s no reason behind it, other than you’re an asshole.

Even if you have ideas or can think of a way to help, I doubt you’ll be able to write to me. I don’t know where I’m going. The estate where I shall be residing is concealed to a point where only Jules and a select few know where it is.

Whatever happens, I love you. More than Mother or Father could break or distance. I don’t fault you for their actions. Give Kaitlyn and Marie my undying love.

Your sister,

Y/n

“I can send that for you, once we reach the Estate,” Jules suggested. You nodded gratefully. Pierre reached over and snatched the feather from you. He scratched some doodles into the margins of the parchment, snickering. Jules rolled his eyes. You had to cross some of his sketches out. You deemed them too graphic for your family, even though Brenda would likely find them hilarious.

The carriage suddenly veered to the right and you cursed, slamming into the window. Pierre laughed loudly and you brought your heel down onto his toes. This time, it was Pierre who swore and Jules was the one to chuckle.

You peeked your head out the window and instantly had to duck, a tree branch almost whacking you in the face. “Where the hell are we?” The carriage didn’t seem to be heading down a distinct path. The “road” was dirt and mud, but the horses seemed to know their way. You thought back to your servants in the carriage behind you and hoped they were faring on this rocky path better than you. You had only taken Elena, Sara, Yuki, and Lando. Technically, you didn’t need Yuki or Lando to join you, but they had become part of your family. Lando’s face when you asked him to come along was worth it.

After another fifteen minutes of twists and turns on the rocky road, Jules leaned out of the window “to make sure no one followed us.” When he was satisfied, the carriage turned once more, carefully weaved through a set of trees, and the Schumacher Estate came into view.

It was a majestic house- if you could even call it that. Only royalty could look at the Schumacher Estate and see a house. It was shaped in a W with light brown stone constructing the base. The roof was a pale green, which you later learned was to blend in with the trees. Two large windows stood at the front and smaller ones peppered the sides. Two spires paralleled the house and what Charles never told you was that the spires were built specifically for defence. They were the perfect places to strike down an enemy, even if the enemy outnumbered you.

A small stable sat to the side and you instantly instructed Lando to give the horses water and comfort. Against Jules’ better judgement you had brought along Sixteen and Fifty-Five. You still had yet to name them.

As Jules’ servants were helping you move in, you caught a snatch of Pierre and Jules’ conversation. “How long will we stay here?” Pierre asked quietly.

Jules didn’t answer, waving Pierre away and giving him a stern look.

“Don’t do that,” Pierre grunted. “I need to know what you and the Leclercs have discussed if I’m to keep Princess Y/n safe. You can’t hide things from me.”

“Just like how we’re not hiding the alliance development from Princess Y/n?” Jules shot back.

You turned to glance at them and both men shut up. “What’s wrong with the alliance?”

“Princess, you needn’t worry about it. King Lorenzo and Prince Charles are working on it.” Jules smiled softly.

“But if they're working on it, then something must be wrong with it.” You frowned, stepping towards the pair. Panic started to build within you. What would this mean for you and Charles? “Does this have to do with Charles and I’s marriage? I- I know Williams has broken communications with Enza, but I’m sure I can help my parents see the error of their ways. It’s- it’s not over.”

“Princess, please don’t worry.” Jules reiterated, gently taking your elbow and guiding you into the house. He led you up two flights of stairs and into a large room. “This shall be your room for the time being. I hope you can settle in and find your stay comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will…” You were a little disoriented by the quick subject change and it seemed like Jules would do everything in his power to avoid your questioning. “But what about Charles-” You whirled around to see the door close. Jules was gone.

Sinking down into the bed, you wondered how things could go from content to uncertain so quickly.

You remembered the carriage ride back to Enza from Redull. Charles had spoken softly about his childhood and you, in turn, swapped stories. It had felt as if a dam had been torn down. But now, by not knowing what was happening, the dam was being built up again. You could do nothing but watch as people separated you and Charles; he stood at one end of the river, and you the other, as wood was piled on to conceal you from him. Water slowly filled the river you stood in and you were helpless as you began to drown.

Maybe you were taking the metaphor too far, but needless to say, you felt as if your timid connection with Charles was splintering. And you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alliance your parents secured with Enza. If the alliance was breaking, would your marriage with Charles break as well?

As you sat in this foreign room, you couldn’t help but realise: You missed Charles.

134 notes · View notes