"Are you alright, my dear?" Maxon put his arms around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace from behind.
I rolled my eyes, "Even though we're married, you're still not permitted to call me that."
He gave a low chuckle, his hands stroking my thin satin robe, warming me up.
"So," He spun me around so I was looking directly into his eyes, "Your Highness, what are you doing out here on the balcony at three in the morning in the middle of winter?"
"You know, winters in Angeles aren't even as cold as winters in Carolina; I can tolerate a little chill unlike you." I shot back, taking his warm hand in mine.
I felt his wedding ring against my fingers, cool and hard, reflecting the moonlight off its smooth metallic surface, and a tiny smile sprang to my lips. Everything will be alright; Maxon is here with me.
"Well to answer your question," I continued our conversation, "I was thinking."
"Thinking about what? Don't always bottle up all your thoughts and feelings, America, I'm here to share your troubles, you know."
"Yes, I know, you've always been very good at that." I smiled up into his slightly confused face, reassuring him. His brown eyes look dark in the night, though they still shone with a kind of brilliance that I would never understand.
"Are you still worried about that?" He stared into my eyes now, searching for an answer within the green.
I looked away abruptly, flitting my eyes to stare at the door behind him instead. But the pane of glass still gave me the reflection of our entwined bodies, and I breathed a sigh, knowing full well that I had to talk to Maxon about this.
I nodded, my red hair in its tight bun bobbing.
"America, dear, it's okay. You don't need to worry, we have lots of time."
"It's been three years, Maxon, even the doctors in the palace are starting to worry."
"Even if we never have children, America, I don't mind. All I need is you."
However, I know deep down that Maxon wanted children more than anything. He wanted his kids to call him 'Dad', wanted a chance to prove that he could be a better father than his own, wanted a family to love and cherish.
I shook my head, "Even if you don't, I want children. I just don't know what's wrong; we've been trying for such a long time."
"My dear," He started, and this time I didn't protest against the endearment, "We're still young. We have years and years to go, and even if we still can't, it'll be fine. I don't mind."
"The public minds; all the people, everyone wonders why a new heir hasn't been born yet. They're beginning to suspect our inconceivability, and-" I started trembling, my head running wild with worries.
For the past year, everyone has been asking about our plans for a baby: "Is a new heir on the way?", "Will there be a little prince or princess soon?", "It's been almost three years, are you planning to expand your family?", "Who will take over the throne if you have no children?". In every single interview, the question comes up at least once, and I have to put on a strong face and answer with a smile. I guess the stress has finally taken over me, and I was ready to breakdown at any moment.
"America, you can cry it out if you want. I'm so sorry for all the stress that's been thrown upon you. We can reject any interviews if you'd like, and you can take a break from all this official queen duties."
"No, no, it's fine, Maxon. It's my job, and I knew how tiring this position would be when I started anyway. I just need a little time alone."
He looked hurt when I said that, but masked it immediately under his facade.
"Okay, my dear, don't be out too long, you'll catch a cold." Maxon opened the door, and stepped in, giving me one last lingering look.
I smiled reassuringly, giving a little wave, and put my arms around my body.
I was ready to try other means.
