Chapter Text
The military training ground was not the most pleasant place to look at. There was a completely different atmosphere there, steeped in cruelty, discipline and self-sacrifice. It reminded Max of the moments he spent with his father, when Jos taught him how to hold a weapon and fight for his life. The memories were not the most pleasant, as every day left Max's body covered in bruises and cuts. His father never spared him, even at the age of four, when his personal training began. Jos was a former guardsman who retired due to a leg injury sustained in the war. He had to give up military service, but he was determined to pass on all his skills to his only son, whose fate he had predetermined. Max was destined to become a guardsman and achieve great heights defending his kingdom. Max accepted this as a given, because he always obeyed his father. If Jos said it was necessary, then it was so.
"You cannot call yourself a real man unless you do your duty to the kingdom" — these were the words Jos made him remember best.
Max saw fear in the eyes of some of the boys standing in line with him, waiting for the arrival of their corps' chief instructor, who would train them in the initial stages until the young soldiers had to choose which troops they wanted to join. For Max, the waiting time was not an agonising minute before the start of his personal hell, but merely boredom. No one could match his father's cruelty, so no other person could instil a shred of fear in him.
When the sound of heavy footsteps was heard, everyone immediately stood up straight and froze like statues, not daring to move. Soon, a man dressed in a black military jacket appeared in front of twenty young people who were only twelve years old. He was tall, with broad shoulders and short-cropped black hair. His face was deeply lined with wrinkles, but it was difficult to call him old. Rather, it was the result of hard and exhausting work. He had black eyes, the gaze of which sent a chill down the spine. The man walked along the row with slow, measured steps, quickly studying each figure standing in front of him.
"My name is Fritz Grimlock," the man introduced himself in a deep, even voice. "I am the one who will teach you scum how to defend your kingdom. Those who decide to cry can leave immediately. This place is not for the weak.
Fritz suddenly stopped in front of one of the boys with curly black hair.
"Name," demanded the instructor.
"Lando Norris, sir!" the boy introduced himself loudly and energetically.
"I see you're full of joy," Fritz did not share his emotions. "I see no reason to smile here. Never do that again. Disgusting smile."
After the other man's words, the corners of Lando's lips dropped. The comment was rather cruel and not very fair, because the boy actually had an incredible smile with a perfect set of white teeth and a cute gap between his two front teeth. When Fritz walked on, a boy named Oscar, standing to Lando's right, gave him an encouraging nudge with his elbow so he wouldn't be too upset.
Fritz left a few comments for the other boys as well. Esteban Ocon was asked to pretend to be mute and never open his mouth because of his crooked teeth, Alex Albon was called a waste of time, Liam Lawson was told to eat less, even though the boy could not be called fat, and Pierre Gasly was called a fool who would start crying into his pillow and asking for his mother in two days. The boys had to listen to all this and simply accept it. They had no right to object, because any violations were punished with fines, and if they received too many, they could be expelled from the cadet corps. Forever.
Max was the last person in line, and he was not left unnoticed either.
"Name."
"Max Verstappen," the boy looked the man in the eye without a trace of fear and with complete confidence.
"Verstappen," Fritz repeated with a hint of disgust. "What are you willing to do for the kingdom?"
"Anything that is required," Max's voice did not waver. "I see nothing in my life but my duty to the kingdom."
"Such confident words," Fritz took a step and turned his back on him. "Make sure you don't blow it like your father did."
Max clenched his jaw tightly. He believed that Fritz had served with his father and clearly disliked Jos. Now Max was under special scrutiny.
"Your training begins right now," Fritz announced loudly, stepping back far enough to see everyone at once. "Everyone on the ground, twenty push-ups."
***
"Does he know we're only twelve?" Isack groaned wearily, rubbing his aching muscles.
The whole group headed to the dining hall to get their long-awaited dinner. They had spent the whole day under the hot sun, doing numerous physical exercises that even some adults couldn't manage. It took them a long time to wash off the sweat and dirt.
"He wants to turn us into real soldiers," Alex shrugged, even though he was also incredibly exhausted.
"That doesn't mean he has to torture us on the first day," Pierre rolled his eyes. "At one point, I thought I was going to die at the tender age of twelve."
"The instructor is just a piece of shit," Yuki commented curtly, making Pierre smile and pull Tsunoda close by the shoulders.
"The main thing is that he doesn't hear that himself," said Oscar. "Otherwise, we really will be close to death."
They entered a spacious room and took seats at tables close together so that everyone could hear each other.
"How can Yuki be so cute, but at the same time have such a foul mouth?" Lando grinned, taking a seat next to Oscar.
"Call me cute one more time, and I'll cut your tongue out," Tsunoda threatened in all seriousness.
"He's scary," Liam glanced at Yuki. "Almost as scary as Max."
Everyone looked at Max, who was sitting at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the wall.
"Are you even human?" Esteban asked him. "You haven't given up once all day."
"I'm used to this kind of training," Max shrugged, and everyone else gasped as if he had said something terrible.
"Mate, you talk as if it's the most normal thing in the world," Pierre shook his head. "Did you even have a childhood?"
No, Max didn't have a normal childhood. From the age of four, he devoted himself to training so that he would be ready for all the difficulties of his future life.
After dinner, which not everyone appreciated, the boys went to the sleeping quarters, which contained ten bunk beds, five on each side. Max put his things on the farthest bed next to the window, and at that moment Yuki rushed over to take the top bunk. Lando and Oscar took the next bed, and both agreed without any argument that Lando would sleep on top. The only ones who got into a conflict were Liam and Isack, who couldn't decide who would sleep on the bottom bunk and who on the top.
"Just switch every night," Oscar rolled his eyes, suggesting the best solution.
There was silence for a while as everyone unpacked their things and made their beds, but then they all decided to have a nighttime chat.
"So, who's going where?" Pierre asked.
"Definitely the military guard," Isack replied proudly. "If war breaks out, I'll be on the front lines and destroy all enemies."
"Just don't shoot yourself," Yuki smiled. "But I was also thinking about the military guard."
"You guys are risky," Lando said. "I'm planning to join the royal guard. I'll protect the king and his children. It's a pity that King Hervé doesn't have a daughter. I would become her loyal protector, she would fall in love with me, and we would get married."
"Dreamer," Oscar rolled his eyes. "What makes you think she would fall in love with you?"
"I'm cute, charismatic, and incredibly charming," Lando winked, flashing a bright smile.
"Yes, and very modest too," Oscar gave him a sarcastic smirk.
"The king has a son our age," Liam said. "You can try your charm on him."
The room erupted in loud laughter, and Lando gave Liam the middle finger. Then the discussion continued, but the only one who did not participate in the conversation was Max. He lay with the blanket pulled up to his chin, facing away from the window. He was not interested in making friends with the other boys and being distracted by other things. He was focused solely on honing his skills and becoming the best guard.
"You don't need friends. You will be respected and feared," were another set of words from his father that Max was asked to remember well.
The boys in his corps seem cool, and Max doesn't mind being around them, but he's not going to pay much attention to it. In three years, they will be scattered across different troops anyway, so why get attached? It is possible that those who chose the military guard may not return alive. There may not be a war yet, but they have to do difficult work and go on dangerous military campaigns. In that case, it is necessary to put aside grief and regret so as not to show weakness. People come and go, the main thing is not to start cherishing them too much, otherwise the loss of a loved one can break someone irrevocably. Max will not allow this to happen to him.
***
Max was the most promising in his corps and could handle absolutely anything he was given. Any type of weapon, any exercise, any mission — everything was always at the highest level. The other boys admired him, but they also feared him a little. After numerous defeats, no one wanted to be Max's opponent in sparring anymore. What was the point when he always won? Max was considered an absolutely unbeatable opponent. That's why Fritz often became his opponent. Even he, an experienced man, had a hard time with Max. And that was probably humiliating. How must a grown man feel when he can't beat a twelve-year-old boy? Fritz never took pity on him and treated him like a real opponent, for which Max was grateful. He hated being underestimated.
Today was another sparring session, and Max and Fritz fought for quite a long time. The others took a break from their own fights and watched the two of them. Unlike the others, they fought with real swords, which were not always used in regular training. But Max was a special case.
The first few times, Max was greatly inferior, but now that he knew Fritz's fighting tactics, he could easily read the other's actions and anticipate some of his attacks. Even though the sword was too heavy for a child's hands, Max held it confidently and firmly. The calluses on his palms rubbed, but he was used to ignoring the pain. His father was much more cruel.
Max reacted too late to one of the attacks and the tip of the sword swept across his cheek, leaving a small cut that immediately began to bleed. But if he had been a second later, the sword would have hit him in the eye. Max quickly regains his composure and sharply twists his wrist, leaving a counter-cut on Fritz's leg. They retreat from each other, still in combat readiness. Both blue and black eyes reflect coldness, restraint and steadfastness.
"Your father taught you well, despite his worthlessness," says Fritz.
"You call my father worthless, even though you're stuck in this miserable place, babysitting children," Max retorts sarcastically. He was the only one who wasn't afraid to say something rude to the instructor.
Max managed to hurt Fritz with his words, because they were the absolute truth.
"Compared to him, you fight like a sissy," Max began to taunt him.
After his words, Fritz rushed into the attack again. Their fight continued until dark, because they both got up after each fall, wanting to have the last word. In the end, they parted ways without deciding on a winner. It was already time for dinner, and they had to hand in their weapons.
"You are a copy of your father," Fritz said as he walked past him.
Max didn't know how to take those words. He never wanted to be like his father in his cruelty. Jos beat him outside of training; it was punishment every time Max failed at something or didn't do it well enough. Such blows were more painful than those inflicted with weapons, because they were accompanied by emotional oppression. Jos could beat him as his opponent during sparring, but how could a father beat his son? Non-training moments were supposed to be family and friendly moments, but Max never received the love he deserved from his father. Jos was obsessed with his idea of making Max the perfect soldier. He was neither a good person nor a good father.
Max does not want to be like him.
***
In their second year at the cadet corps, their squad was finally brought to the royal castle.
Well, almost.
They were within the castle grounds on that slightly foggy day, but they couldn't get inside yet. They were in a separate part of the huge garden, which was fenced off from the main one. The fence was not huge and could be climbed over, but doing so was strictly forbidden. Fritz had warned them enough times not to take any risks.
Absolutely everyone was delighted with the view they were able to see up close.
The huge castle, rising majestically from the thick, damp mist, seemed to be woven from ghostly light. Its slate roofs and pointed towers reaching for the sky were lost in the misty haze, creating the impression of an ancient, slumbering mystery. The stone walls, bleached by time and washed by endless rains, gave off a cold, almost silvery sheen, contrasting sharply with the deep, velvety green of the surrounding gardens. The front courtyard was carefully trimmed, the geometric patterns of the boxwood hedges lost in the twilight, emphasising the austere but elegant beauty of the French park. Separating the courtyard from the outside world, the gates shone. Massive, wrought gold, their ornate patterns reminiscent of fabulous wealth.
They could only look at all this with their mouths open, for none of them had ever encountered such grandeur and wealth. Compared to all this, their lives seemed dull and tasteless.
"I want to be born into the royal family," Liam said regretfully.
"Why do they need so many rooms?" Yuki said thoughtfully.
"I wonder if they often hold balls there?" Lando craned his neck, trying to see something in the distance. "I must attend at least one."
"Stop behaving like savages," Fritz said sternly. "We are here so that the captain of the royal guard can familiarise you with service in the castle. This will help you better understand the internal system and encourage you to choose the army you will join next year."
The captain of the royal guard did not keep them waiting long and appeared before them in a few minutes. First, he shook Fritz's hand, then smiled at the young cadets. He was a man with greying hair and a sparse beard, but in good physical shape.
"I'm glad to see you all here," he began. "My name is Christian Horner, and I am your tour guide for today, to put it simply.
Max tuned out the rest of the speech, as he wasn't interested in it at all. He had no intention of joining the Royal Guard, so this information was unnecessary for him. Of course, he could look around when they were taken to the barracks in a while, but right now he had no desire to listen to the introductory speech.
Max is distracted by a slight movement that he catches out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to the side and looks closely at the main garden, trying to find something. His gaze stops on one of the trees, among whose foliage he sees... a person? Max looks more closely and yes, it really is a person. More precisely, a boy, not too old. Maybe even his age. He was moving carefully along one of the branches and periodically reaching out his hand to touch a ginger cat, which was easy to spot among the greenery. Had the boy climbed the tree after the cat? It was very dangerous, because the height was not small. If he fell, he would definitely break something. Why was no one around?
Max's heart sinks as the boy swings dangerously. It's hard enough for him to hold on, but then he takes his hands off the branch to catch the cat. A little more and he'll definitely fall down.
Max couldn't just stand there and wait for the inevitable to happen. He darted to the side to catch up with the boy.
"Verstappen!" Fritz shouted angrily after him. "Come back immediately or you'll be severely punished!"
Max had already climbed over the fence and approached the tree. He wanted to shout at the boy to stop moving, but at that moment, the other boy's hand slipped off the branch and he began to fall. Max positioned himself so that the boy would fall right into his arms, and he succeeded, but the force of the impact still sent them crashing to the ground like two sacks of potatoes. Max hit the ground hard on the back of his head, and the boy was lying right on top of him. It wasn't ideal, but Max managed to break his fall and save him from a fracture.
The boy lifted his head from Max's chest and looked at him with eyes wide with surprise. They were green and incredibly beautiful. It was the first time Max had ever admired another person's eyes. The boy's hair was chestnut brown and slightly long, reaching just below the tips of his ears, with barely noticeable freckles on his face that were only visible up close, and a cute mole on his left cheek near his nose. Looking at him, Max was ready to call someone beautiful for the first time. This boy had incredible looks. He looked almost like an angel.
They continued to lie in this position, and Max still kept his hands on the boy's body, even though he no longer needed to be rescued. Max was stunned, and the boy was apparently processing what had happened. He realized that he had almost cracked his head open a minute ago.
"Prince Charles!" An anxious cry brought the two boys back to reality.
In an instant, Fritz, leaving his squad near Christian, and one of the castle maids ran up to them. Max finally let go of the boy, and they both got to their feet but continued to look at each other. Max was a little surprised. So this is the prince? The king's middle son, he believes. Well, that makes sense. Such beautiful children are only born into royal families.
Charles.
Max wants to try the name on his tongue, but it would be foolish to say it out loud. Especially when Fritz is glaring at him, ready to kill.
"Young prince, are you all right?" The maid, ready to burst into tears at any moment, kneels down anxiously, examining the boy from all sides. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I left you alone."
"I'm fine, Hannah," Charles said with a French accent that immediately stuck in Max's brain, then looked back at Verstappen. "Thank you."
Max didn't have time to answer because Fritz gruo grabbed him by the elbow.
"The only rule I asked you to follow," the man said through gritted teeth. "Are you bored and looking for trouble?"
Max was about to respond sarcastically as usual, but was interrupted again. This time it was an adult man who came out of the castle accompanied by another man as his personal bodyguard. Max recognized this man immediately. King Hervé. In his eyes, visible behind the lenses of his round pince-nez, Max could see concern.
"Are you hurt, my boy?" Hervé gently ran his hand through his son's hair.
"Je vais bien, papa," the boy replied in French. "I just wanted to get Shanks out of the tree. Please, let someone climb up and get him."
"Of course, son."
After making sure that his son was indeed all right, the king ordered Hannah to call someone to get the cat, then turned his gaze to the unexpected guests in their garden. More precisely, he looked only at Max, long and intently.
Fritz pressed down on Max's head, forcing him to bend over, and bowed himself.
"We apologize for such a rude intrusion, my king."
Max clenched his teeth, wanting to remove Fritz's hand, but at that moment he swallowed his pride, as they were standing before the king. Sometimes it was necessary to restrain one's impulses.
Fritz pressed harder on Max's head, and Max quickly understood what was wanted of him.
"I'm sorry," he said too.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Hervé's voice sounded calm and even affectionate. "Please, get up."
Fritz's hand finally disappeared from Max's head, and he calmly straightened up, straightening his shoulders. But the boy still couldn't resist throwing a malicious glance at Fritz.
The king moved closer to Max and smiled gently.
"What is your name?"
"Max Verstappen," the boy replied as confidently as he always did when introducing himself.
"I am grateful to you for saving my son, Max," Hervé bowed his head. "It was very brave. Let me thank you."
The man nodded, and the guard accompanying him took a bag of coins out of his pocket. But before it was handed to the king, Max quickly and calmly replied:
"I don't need money."
Hervé looked at him in surprise, and Fritz with another flash of anger. Max, realizing that his words sounded rather rude, decided to explain himself.
"I did it not for reward or anything else. Sincere help requires nothing in return."
His words made the king laugh briefly but heartily. The man looked happy and genuinely impressed.
"You will grow up to be a wonderful person, Max Verstappen. I hope to see you again someday."
Hearing such words from the king was a kind of blessing. This time, Max bowed slightly himself.
When Hervé turned around and began to return to the castle, holding Charles by the hand, Fritz grabbed Max by the elbow again, leading him back to their group and shouting some curses. Giving in to the urge, Max turned around one last time, and at that very moment, Charles did the same. Their eyes met one last time, and Max felt a strange tightness in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. It was the first time this had ever happened to him.
When they returned, the other boys looked at them with interest and admiration, because Max had just spoken to the king and the prince. But no one had time to ask questions, because Fritz addressed Max in a stern voice:
"You are punished, Verstappen. Return to the barracks immediately. No excursion for you today."
"As if I care," he snorted in response and immediately turned around, leaving the royal garden.
Back at the barracks, he spent several hours at the training ground, practicing and venting his anger at Fritz. This man annoyed him beyond belief.
When it started to get dark, Max went to his bed. He couldn't sleep, replaying the day in his head. Most of all, of course, he thought about the boy.
"Charles," Max finally said his name, and how good it sounded.
The name seems so unusual when you pronounce it in the French manner.
It was incredibly strange for Max to think so much about someone, to replay moments with them over and over again, to remember their charming green eyes and soft voice, which sounded like a cat purring in French.
Max slapped himself. Damn it, he had to stop thinking about all this. It was fucking weird.
At that moment, the others returned. Max heard their excited and joyful voices outside, but they all fell silent when they entered the room. Max didn't look at them, but he could feel every single gaze on him. Out of respect for him, none of them approached him with questions or made any loud noises. They simply wished each other good night and went to bed. Max was grateful to them for their understanding.
Max still couldn't sleep and stared aimlessly at the wooden surface of the bed above him. But soon, Yuki's small head popped up from above, looking at him with his beady eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes, completely."
Yuki was silent for a while, continuing to look at him.
"The instructor is an asshole."
The corners of Max's lips twitched into a slight smile.
"You were cool," Yuki said.
"Thanks, buddy," Max replied sincerely.
Yuki's eyes showed that he was smiling. Soon his head disappeared again.
Maybe having friends isn't so bad after all.