A/N

Please read the bolded script.

The first few chapters were written literal years ago, back when I first read the Selection. Afterward, I became obsessed with Gone with the Wind. GWTW occupied most of my writing ability then, so I neglected this for a long time. It still does influence me a lot. Anyway, the purpose of this note is to tell all new readers that not all of my chapters are this short, just the first two. This one is about 1,200 words. My third chapter is about 4,300 words long. Please keep all this in mind and read a little further before you decide my story is absolute trash.


What an interesting way to spend his Sunday. Maxon examined the party his wife had put together. He knew she had been working on these festivities for a couple months. She had planned an entire week of activities and parties for Maxon and his guests. The Great Room had been decorated for the first ball that was taking place, starting off Maxon's birthday week with his actual birthday. There would be smaller gatherings and events throughout the week, and it would end with another formal ball. Regal red drapes decorated the walls, and the room seemed to glitter with all of the gold accents. There was a large buffet of food, none of which were his favorites. Neither was the color red. Maxon couldn't help but be disappointed in the whole thing. These were his wife's favorite foods and red was neither of their favorites. The stiff and formal feel of the gathering was not what Maxon was hoping for either.

"Your royal husbandness," America called out, "come join our conversation." Maxon shook off his slight sadness and put on a small smile before he walked over to the large group of women, each one a daughter of Illea.

"Hello, my dear." he greeted, kissing Kriss' cheek.

"Happy birthday, Maxon." She replied cheerily.

"Hello, ladies. I trust you are all enjoying the lovely party my wife Kriss has put together."

America did her best to hide the hurt that threatened to overtake the control she had on her emotions. "Yes, and the girls and I were wondering something. Obviously, this is a question for both of you," she said before Natalie chimed in.

"When are you two going to give us baby royals to play with?" Natalie excitedly asked.

"Yes, we want more excuses to come over and more cute babies to dote on," Celeste added.

Maxon glanced at Kriss and took in her expression. She was bashfully looking at the floor, no doubt wondering the same thing. When Maxon returned his gaze to the group of women in front of him, he noticed the sadness lurking behind a striking pair of icy eyes. He swallowed and spoke, "We have been trying for a while, so hopefully soon."

The Selected were satisfied and split up, moving away from the stage in the Great Room to go enjoy the rest of their party. America moved to stand in a corner all alone, no longer feeling like partying. She wasn't alone for long, though. Plenty of suitors were interested in her and asked her to dance. After a while of half-heartedly conversing with many young men, America returned to her previous spot. She was debating leaving, longing for Maxon, and heartbroken he was married to another woman. It seemed the world was against her, however, as Celeste, Maxon, and Kriss joined America in her lonely corner.

"America, how are you enjoying the party?" Kriss called out whilst approaching her.

"You seem very popular among the men." Celeste winked.

Chuckling, America replied, "Yes, well, none of them are quite my type."

"I see, you are into the princely type," Maxon said teasingly. However, deep down, he ached for it to be true.

America felt a twinge of hurt, and replied wittily, "Actually, I find handsome guards much more attractive."

He ignored his wailing heart and cracking resolve at her comment, letting out a small laugh while wrapping his arm around Kriss' waist. "Well, Kriss and I better make our rounds before the night ends. You really should look into a husband."

America nodded once at them and turned to Celeste. "Hey, America. How are you really feeling?" Celeste asked in a hushed tone as the royal couple made their way to the dance floor.

"Like someone is repetitively stabbing me in the chest." she sighed. "I was considering returning to my room. I'm not really feeling this whole party thing." America gestured around the room.

Celeste solemnly nodded. "I understand. I hope the whole week isn't this terrible for you."

America offered her a weak smile. "It wasn't as bad as that one time you brought me shopping. You didn't even let me rest for half a second."

Celeste chuckled. "I am quite the shopper. I'll walk you to your room. Do you want me to stay or just walk you there?"

"I'd really like a little alone time." America confided.

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

After Celeste shut the door, America let her legs carry her out to the balcony. She remembered this room. She loved the view of the gardens from her balcony, but it was cruel for Maxon to put her in this room full of memories.

This was where they had many of their private moments. This was where they had their first kiss, where Maxon gave her the NewAsian bracelet, where they solved their problems, where May stayed here the night before the Halloween party and Marlee's caning, where America almost left, where Maxon stood up against his father just so she could go see her dead one, where they had their most passionate encounter, where she told Maxon that she loved him, where he told her he loved her too, where he proposed, where he called her a liar and told her to leave his home forever.

America hadn't cried in a year over Maxon. However, this room brought back too many painful memories. Memories that seemed so distant, even though it had only been two years.

America just sat down and began to cry.


Maxon had taken a break from the party and walked around the garden. The chatter was giving him a pounding headache, and the fresh air seemed to make it better. As he strolled through the garden, he came across something he had almost forgotten about. He gazed at the bench, hesitant to get to close to it. The small and seemingly inconsequential bench was their place. It would always belong to her.

Distant cries interrupted his thoughts, and he looked around for the source. He couldn't see anyone, but for some reason, these wails nagged at him. Maxon wanted to find their owner, if only to provide them a little comfort, but knew he had to get back to the party soon to avoid alerting anyone.

When back inside, Maxon found it near impossible to restore his cheery disposition and walked absently around the room. The sobs continued to echo in his head and were driving him mad.

"Maxon, dear?" Kriss asked.

"Hm? Oh, hello my dear. How is the party going?"

"Well, it went well. Everyone returned to their rooms, though. It is already eleven at night, and you've just been walking around the room. I thought it was best that we both head off to bed now."

"Of course."

When Maxon made it inside his room, he began to pace again. He kept recalling those cries, trying to piece together why they bothered him so. That is until he faced his bed and noticed a scantily clad Kriss sitting in front of him. He knew exactly what she wanted.

"Hello, my dearest king." Kriss purred, trying her best to direct this night where she wanted it to go.

"Kriss, I don't feel well. Maybe tomorrow?"

"But Maxon," she started to pout a little, "It's your birthday. It's also our duty to produce some adorable heirs, so we better step to it."

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Alright. You are right, my dear."

"Perfect."