Chapter Text
Charles should've known better.
He should've known better than to allow the coronation to happen today — he should've said something. He regrets not saying anything.
The truth of it is: If he hadn't had that argument with Max, if they hadn't ignored each other for the better half of last two weeks, he would've told him. He would've told Max how he hasn't really been feeling alright since the past week.
He has seen Seb glancing at him with concern. He knows even Kimi, despite his stoic nature, has flickers of concerns over his features anytime he's glanced at Charles in the last week.
In all honesty, he would've crumbled if Max had just looked at him.
Charles is a weak, weak man. One look would've done.
Max knows this.
Max has ignored him for the last week.
And, well. He might've been married to Max, but he's still the second Prince of Monaco, behind Lorenzo. He's as stubborn as they come.
However.
This stubbornness might just have backfired on him, because Charles isn't sure how he is standing right now— if he is standing at all.
Max is supposed to walk out the double doors of the main hall in two minutes, but Charles cannot seem to pull it together.
Max will be crowned the King of Netherlands today. And although they are in fight, Charles is... Charles is extremely proud of him. Of the way he's carried himself in the wake of his father's death. Of how he took on all the responsibility when he was forced to be regent in his father's stead. Of how he perfectly balanced everything— his time as the regent of the country, his time as a son, his time as a brother, as Charles' husband.
Charles is so proud of him. He hasn't—he hasn't told him that yet, today. But he is.
He had planned to tell Max, now. Minutes before his coronation. He would've done so, despite their argument. But the room keeps spinning in front of Charles' eyes, his breath is getting shorter and shorter, the layer of cold sweat is covering his entire body — despite it being November in this country.
His vision swims again, and Charles sways.
“Charles?” comes the voice of Seb, his personal security officer, concern brimming in his voice.
“I'm— I'm fine,” he bites out. Anyone with eyes can see he's anything but that.
“Will you make it till the end of the ceremony?” Seb asks.
Charles goes to nod, but his new best-friend, nausea hears its ugly head out.
“Can you look at me, Charles?”
What? He was just looking— Charles didn't even realise he had closed his eyes.
“You don't have to be here. Max, he will—”
“No,” Charles cuts him off. “I won't leave him alone.”
“Charles—”
“Don't let me fall on my face, Seb,” Charles grits out, still fighting intense nausea that seems to have lodged itself down Charles' throat.
“Never,” Seb holds him. For a second, Charles leans on Seb, pushing his entire body weight on him. He knows, even if the world burns around him like his skin seems to be doing right about now, he'd be safe with Seb.
In a few minutes, Max is supposed to walk out. Max cannot see him like this. This is Max's day. He'd be damned if he let the attention waiver away from Max for even a second. He'd be damned if he gave the courtiers gossip that would last them days.
Mostly, he's exhausted. Charles knows the limits of his body like the back of his hand, he knows he's on borrowed time. He knows he needs to rest, but he doesn't want to disappoint Max yet again. Not when the last interaction they had was their argument. Max doesn't deserve that. He deserves the best.
Charles might not be the best, but he'd be damned if he didn't die trying.
“Whenever you need to leave, just squeeze my hand. I'd pull you out of the crowds. No one would notice. I promise,” Seb whispers in a rush.
“Thanks,” Charles says, voice barely above a whimper.
Charles pulls himself together as soon as he hears the double doors open. Although that is the last he hears. The blood rushing in his ears makes it hard to make out anything. There's an acute pain that has lodged itself in his abdomen. He feels... wrong just standing here. His body goes through the ceremony on pure muscle memory— there had been rehersals for the coronation. He's eternally grateful for George and his need to get everything right.
The room tilts on it's axis again, Charles has to close his eyes to gain a semblance of balance. He doesn't realise how short his breaths have been for the last few minutes. Suddenly, Seb's holding him upright again. The cramps in his abdomen have ramped up. He doesn't know how he's holding it together.
“Just a minute more, then I'll get you out,” Seb whispers.
The minute passes, and suddenly Charles is being dragged. Slowly and yet stern.
He doesn't know how he hasn't emptied the contents of his stomach right there, on the royal carpet.
As soon as he thinks it, the urge is quick to follow. The only warning he can truly give to his security officer is a small “Seb” he barely whispers out, before he has to lean on the wall for a second.
Nausea wins as Charles bends over an old vase and throws up. His stomach doesn't stop twisting and contracting until the only thing that is coming up his the acidic bile.
Worst of all— it hurts. He cannot seem to stop and it hurts.
Somewhere in between, Seb manages to drag him to his room. He is immediately throwing up again. There is nothing left in his stomach, but that doesn't seem to stop his nausea from unleashing havoc over him. Seb is there, rubbing his back, but he wants Max.
In all honesty, Charles is scared. He's tired and exhausted from putting up the act of being fine. He's terrified and Max still hasn't looked at him and he's almost sure he's going to throw up his stomach and die here alone. Max is King now, he can have anyone he wants— why would he want Charles anyway?
Charles is truly scared when there's blood mixed in with bile. He takes one look at Sebastian and tears spill from his eyes. He sobs, leaning back into Seb's chest, clutching his nice clothes for dear life.
Charles is scared.
He wants Max.
He can't have Max.
Somewhere in between his breaths have gone shorter again. Somewhere in between he hears Seb's voice shouting his commands—demands, really— into his radio. Somewhere in between Charles feels the warmth of Seb's body replaced by Max's. Somewhere in between Charles thinks he's dreaming.
How is Max here?
He thinks he hears Max shout, “Find the doctor and bring him here, Seb! NOW! Kimi, help him find Alex, please!”
But Charles cannot be sure.
Somewhere in between, he loses his consciousness.