The roaring symphony of engines echoed through the grandstands of Silverstone, a sea of red Ferrari flags blending into the cheers of thousands of fans. The commentators' voices cut through the electrified atmosphere.

"Lights out and away we go at the Silverstone Grand Prix! Charles Leclerc takes a brilliant start, holding P1 into Turn One with Verstappen right on his tail! This is going to be a battle to remember!"

The camera panned to the grandstands, fans jumping and screaming as the race unfolded with the precision and chaos only Formula 1 could deliver.

Beyond the royal gates, a different kind of murmur swept through the gathered media. Journalists whispered to one another, cameras poised, as the palace staff scrambled to maintain order. Whispers of an unusual absence rippled among the reporters.

Inside the private gardens, Sophie, Countess of Wessex, paced the lawn with sharp, agitated steps. She glanced at her younger daughter, Louise, who sat nervously by the fountain, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

"Where is your sister, Louise?" Sophie demanded, her voice taut.

Louise hesitated. "I... I don't know, Mum. She didn't tell me anything."

Nearby, Edward, Earl of Wessex, rubbed his temples in frustration, the weight of his eldest daughter's antics settling heavily on his shoulders.

Camilla, the Queen Consort, leaned over to Edward, her tone sharp but coated with feigned concern. "Looks like Her Royal Highness is more into... lighter matters these days." She let out a laugh that didn't reach her eyes, taking a sip of her tea.

A breathless servant ran into the garden, clutching a small folded note in her hand. "Your Grace," she addressed Edward, bowing slightly.

"What is it now?" Edward sighed, extending his hand for the paper.

The servant hesitated. "It was found in Her Royal Highness's room, sir."

Edward unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the bold, scrawled handwriting of his eldest daughter.

"Mum and Dad, I'm out at the Grand Prix. XOXO – Aria."

The paper crumpled slightly in Edward's grip as Sophie's face turned crimson. "The Grand Prix?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. The nearby press caught wind of the commotion, the buzz intensifying.

"We've kept the media waiting for this?" Camilla muttered under her breath, smirking slightly.

The screen flipped back to the roaring race, Ferrari still holding the lead as Charles Leclerc masterfully weaved through the track. Meanwhile, in the paddock, Aria leaned over the barrier, her head buried in her hands as she screamed with the crowd.

Rebecca, seated beside her, nudged her shoulder. "Aria, are you going to survive this race, or should I call security now?"

Aria groaned, but her grin betrayed her excitement. "Why does it always feel like my heart's about to explode?"

"Maybe because you're absolutely obsessed with this whole thing," Rebecca teased.

Aria rolled her eyes. "If it's this or sitting through three hours of watching boring polo with my legs crossed like some perfect statue, I choose this. Every time."

Rebecca laughed. "Yeah, and I'm sure your mum loves that about you."

Aria grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure she's thrilled."

The commentary blared over the speakers, announcing another stellar lap by Charles Leclerc. Aria leaned forward, watching the scarlet car flash past the paddock barriers.

"Why is he so great at this?" she muttered, half to herself, half to Rebecca.

Rebecca smirked knowingly. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Aria shot her a look, her cheeks warming slightly. "Oh, stop it."

Rebecca only laughed, her teasing unrelenting. "Face it. You've had a crush on Charles Leclerc since forever, Your Highness. And now you're here, watching him in the flesh."

Aria's focus shifted back to the race, the grin tugging at her lips refusing to disappear. For a moment, amidst the chaos of the paddock and the roar of engines, she felt like she belonged exactly where she was—away from the palace, the rules, and the weight of her title.

The race roared on, the final laps bringing Silverstone's fans to the edge of their seats. Charles Leclerc held firm in P1, fending off a determined challenge from Max Verstappen. Behind him, Carlos Sainz protected Ferrari's double podium with a rock-solid P2.

"Charles Leclerc crosses the line to win the Silverstone Grand Prix!" the commentator exclaimed, the crowd erupting in cheers. "Carlos Sainz follows right behind, making it a Ferrari one-two! What a race for the Scuderia!"

The Ferrari team cheered in unison, and Charles' voice broke through the team radio, triumphant and breathless.

"YES! Grande lavoro, ragazzi! Thank you, thank you, this was amazing!"

Carlos' voice chimed in over his own radio, laced with amusement. "Nice job, Charles. Very smooth. Great way to impress—"

Charles cut in, confused. "Impress whom, mate?"

Carlos chuckled knowingly. "The Royal Highness, of course."

Charles' reply came back as an uncharacteristically loud shout. "WHAT?! She's here?!"

Before Carlos could say more, the sharp voices of their race engineers—Bryan and Adami—intervened almost simultaneously.

"Focus, ragazzi, focus! Eyes on the team celebration," Bryan said, his tone more amused than stern.

Charles barely had time to process the comment before he parked his car in Parc Fermé. Unstrapping and climbing out with practiced ease, he executed his signature finishing style: standing atop the car, fists raised in victory as the crowd roared their approval.

He spotted Carlos emerging from his car and jumped down, running to his teammate. The two embraced in celebration, laughter spilling over the noise of the crowd.

"Ferrari is back!" Carlos exclaimed, beaming.

Charles grinned, still catching his breath. "We did it!"

The Podium

As the ceremony began, Charles and Carlos stepped onto the podium, cheers and applause raining down on them. The announcer's voice carried over the booming speakers.

"And now, presenting the trophy to the race winner, Charles Leclerc of Ferrari, is a special guest—Her Royal Highness, Princess Aria Alexandra Elizabeth Diana!"

Charles blinked, stunned as Aria stepped onto the podium, the silver and red hues of the Ferrari banner framing her royal blue dress. She carried the gleaming trophy with poise, her smile subtle but radiant.

As she handed the trophy to Charles, their fingers brushed lightly, an electric tension sparking in the brief touch. For a moment, their eyes met—hers filled with amusement, his with astonishment.

"Congratulations," she said smoothly, her voice tinged with formality, yet her eyes betrayed a flicker of mischief.

Charles inclined his head respectfully, his voice steady but his heart racing. "Thank you, Your Royal Highness."

Carlos, stepping forward with his own trophy, broke the moment with a grin, pulling Aria into a friendly hug.

"Aria! Good to see you," Carlos said warmly.

"You too, Carlos," Aria replied, her tone lighter now, the royal veneer momentarily dropped.

Later, as Charles and Carlos returned to the Ferrari garage, the energy was electric. The team swarmed them with cheers, pats on the back, and celebratory champagne. In the midst of the jubilation, Charles noticed Aria standing with Rebecca, her laughter ringing out above the noise.

Rebecca smirked at her friend. "So, Your Highness, what do you think of Ferrari now?"

Aria shrugged with a playful grin. "Not bad, I suppose. Though I'm still not sure if it's the car or the driver."

"Careful," Rebecca teased. "Your crush is showing."

Aria elbowed her lightly, laughing. "Shut up!"

Across the room, Charles' gaze lingered on Aria, her animated presence lighting up the space. She moved easily among the Ferrari crew, her royal stature seeming almost at odds with her relaxed demeanor.

Carlos nudged Charles, grinning. "You're staring."

"I'm not," Charles said quickly, tearing his eyes away.

"You so are." Carlos laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "She's got that effect, doesn't she?"

Charles didn't respond, his attention drawn back to Aria as she glanced his way, their eyes meeting for the second time that day. This time, her smile was softer, almost imperceptible, but enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The jubilant atmosphere of the Ferrari garage was infectious, champagne misting the air as mechanics, engineers, and team staff celebrated their double podium. Aria found herself at ease in the lively chaos, her laughter blending with the chatter around her.

Charles, still damp from the champagne spray on the podium, finally made his way over, his heart thudding against his chest in a way that had nothing to do with the race. Carlos hung back, a knowing grin on his face as Charles approached.

"Your Royal Highness," Charles began, his tone polite yet uncertain, his smile small but genuine. "It's an honor to have you here."

Aria turned to him, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Oh, so formal. Do you always address your fans like this, Mr. Leclerc?"

Charles blinked, caught off guard by her playful tone. "I—uh—well, I wasn't sure—"

Rebecca, standing beside Aria, smirked and decided to jump in. "Relax, Charles. Aria's only scary when she's in a meeting or dealing with paparazzi. Right now, she's just a very dedicated Ferrari supporter."

Aria shot Rebecca a look, though her smile didn't waver. "What she means is that I appreciate a good race. And yours today? Not bad at all."

"Not bad at all?" Charles repeated, pretending to look offended. "After all that hard work, I only get a 'not bad'?"

Aria's smile widened, her confidence never wavering. "Well, you'll have to work a bit harder to impress me next time."

For a moment, the two simply looked at each other, the rest of the bustling garage fading into the background. Charles felt a strange pull in her gaze, a mixture of challenge and curiosity that left him completely disarmed.

Carlos sauntered over, breaking the moment with his usual easygoing energy. "Ah, Aria, don't be too hard on him. Poor Charles here is still recovering from the shock of finding out you were on the podium today."

Aria raised an eyebrow, turning back to Charles. "Oh? Shocked to see me, were you?"

Charles rubbed the back of his neck, his signature sheepish grin making its appearance. "A little. I wasn't expecting—well, anyone like you to be here."

Aria tilted her head, intrigued. "Anyone like me? What does that mean?"

Rebecca leaned closer to Aria, whispering loud enough for Charles to hear, "Translation: he thinks you're out of his league."

Charles flushed, stammering, "I didn't say that!"

Aria laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that seemed to light up the entire room. "Relax, Charles. I'm just teasing. You drove brilliantly today."

"Thank you," he said, his voice quieter, more sincere now. "It means a lot coming from you."

Carlos, noticing the growing intensity between the two, decided to step in again. "Alright, lovebirds, let's not forget there's still a team party happening. Aria, Rebecca, you're both invited."

Aria turned to Rebecca with a raised brow. "What do you think? Should we stick around?"

Rebecca shrugged dramatically. "Free food, free drinks, and a chance to see Charles embarrass himself while celebrating? How could we say no?"

Charles groaned, though he was smiling. "You're never going to let me live anything down, are you?"

"Not a chance," Rebecca shot back.

As the group moved toward the lounge area of the garage, Aria lagged slightly behind. Charles hesitated, then fell into step beside her.

"Do you come to many races?" he asked, trying to sound casual but feeling strangely nervous.

"Not as many as I'd like," she admitted. "But when I do, I make it count. Silverstone has always been special to me."

"Why?"

Aria glanced at him, her smile softening. "Because it's where I can forget who I'm supposed to be for a while. Out here, I'm just... me."

Charles didn't know what to say to that, so he simply nodded. Somehow, he understood exactly what she meant.

Before he could respond, Rebecca called out from ahead. "Aria, are you coming, or are you too busy charming Ferrari's golden boy?"

Aria chuckled, throwing Charles an apologetic glance. "Duty calls."

As she walked ahead to catch up with Rebecca, Charles found himself smiling to himself, the sound of her laugh lingering in his mind.

Carlos sidled up beside him, nudging his arm. "You're staring again."

Charles didn't deny it this time. "Maybe."

"Careful, mate," Carlos teased. "She's not just any girl."

Charles glanced at Aria again, now immersed in conversation with Rebecca. "I know," he said quietly.

And for the first time, he realized he didn't care.

The evening had drawn to a close. The buzz of the Ferrari team party faded into the background as Aria made her way to the door, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She could feel the weight of the night pressing against her as she glanced back at the lively celebration behind her. The thrill of the race, the joy of being with friends—and him, Charles, the enigmatic Ferrari driver who had kept her on her toes all evening.

Rebecca was already at the door, smirking at Aria as she walked over. "Leaving already?" she asked, her tone light but teasing.

Aria shot her a look. "I think I've had enough of your bad jokes for one night," she teased back.

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't spend the night fantasizing about a Formula 1 driver," Rebecca smirked, nudging her playfully.

Aria rolled her eyes. "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

"Only to me," Rebecca quipped, a knowing grin on her face.

As Aria stepped outside, the cool night air hit her like a splash of water, and for a moment, she felt the weight of her title slip away. She was just Aria—for now.

Charles, standing by the entrance, spotted her and moved toward her. "Leaving already?" His voice was laced with surprise, though there was something more in his tone that Aria couldn't quite place.

"Yeah, just needed to get some air," she said, trying to keep it casual.

Carlos appeared from the corner, a mischievous grin on his face. "Off you go, Your Royal Highness? You missed all the fun!"

Aria rolled her eyes at Carlos' dramatics, but couldn't help but chuckle. "What, and stay and listen to you two gossip about the race? I think I'd rather not."

Rebecca, standing by, smirked at Aria's back. "You really have a way with him, don't you?"

Charles turned to her, confused. "What?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I'm just saying... she's got that effect on people."

Aria shot Rebecca a glare, but it was half-hearted. "Can we just get going? The driver's waiting for me."

With a final nod and a small wave, Aria slipped into the waiting car, the door shutting with a soft thud behind her. As the car pulled away, she looked out the window, the night air cool against her skin, her thoughts scattered between the high-energy race, the grand celebration, and—of course—him.