"Afterwards, the universe will explode for your pleasure." – Douglas Adams


"America, wake up," Maxon whispered to his wife. She groaned and snuggled deeper into her pillow. "Wake up, c'mon."

"No," she refused, burying her face in the cotton pressed beneath her cheek. "I don't want to."

He laughed and reached down to her exposed waist. "Fine, then you leave me no choice…" he said in a menacing tone. As soon as his fingers made contact with the sensitive skin there she laughed and sat up.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" she exclaimed, rubbing her face with her hands. She looked at him through her fingers and then peeked at the window. "It's too early," she moaned, collapsing back against her pillow.

He tugged on her hands and stood to pull her out of bed. "C'mon, you have a big day today," he reminded her. "An even bigger day tomorrow."

She shook her head. "Don't remind me."

He sighed. "If you don't get up soon, you're going to miss your final dress fitting. And you know what happens when you miss an appointment…" he trailed off, waiting for her to answer. She didn't so he continued, "Silvia comes after you. And when she can't find you she comes after me."

"I had a dress fitting last week. Do I really need another one?" she asked, yawning. He was about to pull her out of bed again when she held up a hand to stop him. She threw her feet over the edge and stretched, standing to go pick up her robe.

He laughed and followed her to her closet where Anne and Lucy were preparing her outfit for the day. He stood against the doorjamb as the inspected her reflection in the mirror. "Where's Christian?" she asked.

"He's eating breakfast with May. Don't worry, he is being well taken care of."

She frowned. "How long has he been up?"

"An hour or so. I got him dressed and showered for you…you're welcome by the way." He smirked as she rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't want to wake you. You need your beauty sleep." He approached her and took her face in both hands to kiss her. "I'll see you at breakfast?"

She nodded. Later that day, they arrived in the massive cathedral where her coronation would be taking place the next day. She thought that there were a lot of rehearsals for her and Maxon's wedding but they were nothing compared to the coronation.

Silvia noticeably relaxed when she saw America walking down the aisle with Christian. "You're late!" she called from the front of the cathedral.

America sighed. "I know, Christian pitched a fit about his toys. Apparently he can play with the toys he got last year for his second birthday now because he's outgrown his old ones." As she explained, a few of Maxon's cousins walked by and she waved to them excitedly. "Really, I tried to be on time."

"And your husband is right behind you, right?" Silvia asked, craning her neck to see past America.

"He decided to do extra work today so he's not bogged down tomorrow or the day after," she told Silvia. "But you don't need him, right?" America knew that Maxon wasn't needed. He really didn't even have to go to her coronation. There was no question about that of course but he was really only going to be a babysitter for Christian. Silvia wanted him there because she had a bit of a crush on him.

She blushed. "Of course, we will do just fine without him!" She clapped and called everyone to order that was decorating and setting up.

Kenna approached America and hugged her. "I guess you want me to keep an eye on him?" Kenna asked, nodding toward the sleeping toddler in America's arms.

She nodded and laughed. "Yes, that would be wonderful." She passed him off to her sister. "Thank you for coming and helping."

Smiling, Kenna said, "Anytime."

Maxon sat in his office going over the columns of numbers he had to get together for the financial meeting he would be having in just a couple days. There was a knock on the door to his study and he allowed them to enter. One of the guards pushed a cameraman in roughly, shoving him toward Maxon.

The king stood. "What is this?" he asked the guard.

The guard, who's nametag said Officer Brixton, said, "Your Majesty, I was just out sending some mail when I saw this man trying to sell a picture to the press. Apparently he got it from palace cameras."

Maxon frowned. "You hacked the system?" he asked the cameraman who shrank away from his sharp gaze.

"It's not what he did, it's what he has. You should take a look at this Your Majesty." Brixton handed over a developed picture.

Maxon took it and studied it, frowning even more. "There's no way this is real," he whispered to himself. He looked back at the cameraman. "What technology did you use on this?"

The man shrugged. "It's a real picture. That's why I was trying to sell it. My family could desperately use the money."

"So you're telling me that my wife is having an affair with this officer?" he demanded. When the cameraman didn't answer he looked to the guard. "Who is this guard?"

"Officer Leger, Sir. Actually, he was shipped off to Fort Kindred several months ago. He hasn't been here since your married Princess Kriss," he explained.

"Which means…" Maxon didn't want to say it. "this was taken during the Selection." He sat down in his chair, for once movement failing in soothing him. "Wait…where was Officer Leger from?"

Brixton considered. "Carolina, I believe." He recognized the coincidence. "That's where Princess America is from."

"She lied," he whispered. He looked up at the cameraman. "Take all of his equipment and pay him off. Make sure he doesn't repeat anything."

Brixton pulled the man out of Maxon's study, leaving Maxon in silence. He buried his face in his hands and started controlled breathing. When that failed, he crumpled up the picture and hurled it into the roaring fire. That didn't help though. That picture would be seared in his brain for the rest of his life, however long that would be.

How much of what she told him had been a lie? There was no other explanation; Officer Leger was her ex. No wonder she had taken so long to accept him; she was seeing her ex on the side.

America was in her study after the rehearsal when one of her assistants went through the invitations to the coronation ball again and questioned her choice in Princess Daphne. "Why not? She's a princess…she should be allowed to come."

The maid bit her lip coyly. "You do not know about her?"

"What about her?" America asked, growing suspicious.

"She and the King had a bit of a fling prior to the Selection."

America gasped. "Excuse me?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. During his birthday party the two were found canoodling in a back hallway. One of the officers told everyone about it."

"He never told me." Anger was starting to boil in America. The maid quickly excused herself. America and Maxon didn't see each other until later that night in their bedroom. They got ready for bed separately, both stewing in their fury at the other. Both sensed the tension but assumed that it was just created from their own personal problems.

America said good night to him coldly as she turned out the lights before he was even done working. He sighed and put away his books and they both fell into a fitful sleep.

So, not much to say tonight. I'm trying to finish this one quickly because there's a storm coming and I don't want to lose all of this work should the power go out. Please review!