Chapter 1- Regal

As she walked down the aisle, Maxon felt a feeling in his stomach that he was sure she'd once described as butterflies. If that were the case, this is exactly how he would imagine dozens of winged beauties fluttering inside his stomach. She was absolute grace walking beside her former love, now palace guard. Maxon should feel pain seeing them together, but Aspen was the reason his darling America was alive- the reason he was alive himself.

She walked with an element of grace, but Maxon knew that she was probably working so hard to keep her breakfast down. She wasn't fond of a crowd focusing on her, but he knew that she would get used to that. Maxon wished that he had one of his cameras with him, but he knew that no picture could capture this moment purely as it is. She seemed to be glowing, despite the fact that Maxon could tell that she was nervous. As all eyes of Illéa were on her right now, whether by being in the room or through their living rooms. Everyone was watching her, and she knew it.

America hadn't seen Maxon yet; he could tell by her searching eyes. Her arm gripped Aspen as though he were helping her balance, despite him having to support himself with a cane- a reminder of his heroic actions during the latest Southern rebel palace infiltration. Maxon's eyes floated to America's dress. He made a quick mental note to tell Mary his fondness of her dress. She had really outdone herself, as if America's maids had been designing her wedding dress since the beginning of the Selection. Maxon smiled, knowing that they probably had planned the dress since meeting America. Most of the staff in the palace was rooting for America to win the Selection since word about her treatment of her maids got around, and was officially the staff favorite when she ran to try to stop Marlee's caning. America's genuine, kind spirit was known by those around her before it was truly known to Maxon himself. She made him crazy sometimes, but he knew that he wanted to live in her crazy world until his last breath, which was almost sooner than he expected.

Maxon drew in a breath, but stopped mid-breath as her eyes finally met his. The butterflies in his stomach and decided to completely turn his insides into giant knots. It seemed as if the world around them completely faded, leaving just America and him as the only ones left in the world. A smile crept on America's face just as a hint of pink caressed her cheeks.

Aspen limped forward the final steps, finally bringing is fiancée to him. At this moment, Maxon owed Aspen more than he could repay. He owed him for his life, but more importantly, he owed him for America's life. Maxon gave Aspen a nod that spoke thousands of words between them before turning to his bride. Her eyes had never left him since she spotted him halfway down the aisle. Carefully, Maxon walked America to the priest that would perform the ceremony to bond them forever. It was a step that he knew he was ready for, and at last, a step that he knew America was ready for.

The priest began the ceremony, and Maxon felt a shaking on his arm. He noticed that his darling was shaking. A smile spread on Maxon's face.

"Why are you shaking, my dear?" he whispered to her.

America's eyes flittered away just for a second.

"There's a lot of people here," she replied in a soft whisper herself.

Maxon smiled and squeezed America's hand that rested on his arm.

"It's a bit too late to back out I'm afraid."

"I would never," she said almost breathlessly. " I want this more than I've ever wanted anything else."

Maxon dipped his head down, happy to hear those words.

At long last, the priest ended the ceremony, which meant it was time for Maxon to kiss his darling America, not as a member of the Selection, not as his fiancée, but as his wife. He leaned in and inhaled her scent as their lips met. The kiss was soft, but held so much meaning behind it. He felt her spine straighten as they parted. He knew that the next part was the hardest part for her. She will not be a princess like first anticipated, but she will become queen of Illéa.

The priest moved aside and the magistrate moved in to begin the ceremony. Since Maxon had been coronated immediately after his father's death, Maxon took a seat on the throne beside what would become America's. She stood in front of him and curtsied deeply. As she rose, a new persona took over her- one Maxon had never really seen clearly until now. She reminded him of his mother at that moment. Her stiff back, her soft appearance- she looked regal.

During the ceremony, America's eyes never left Maxon's. As she moved to the throne, he saw that she seemed to be holding her breath. As she sat beside him, she softly exhaled a breath that Maxon was sure she had been holding for a while. She gave him a small smile.

At long last, the magistrate's voice bellowed through the hall.

"I present to you King Maxon and Queen America. Long live the King and Queen!"

The hall echoed, "Long live the King and Queen!"