"Your Majesty, you need to sit."

"Maxon!" Was he breathing? He didn't look like he was breathing.

"Your Majesty, I don't want to have to ask you to leave."

America hurried over to hospital bed where her husband lay unconscious, "Maxon, please—"

"Your Majesty," Dr. Ashlar finally paused and looked directly at her. "He needs my attention right now, and the best way you can help him is by taking care of yourself and your baby."

"But—"

"If you require immediate medical attention," Dr. Ashlar continued, "then I am constitutionally bound to leave his Majesty and tend to you and to the heir. Another doctor would have to come in and treat his Majesty, and that would take precious time. We don't want that to happen, do we?"

America blinked, realizing he'd asked her a question, and only belatedly realizing what that question had been. Her whole world was Maxon on that hospital bed, and Dr. Ashlar only existed peripherally, and only because he was currently touching Maxon, cleaning a red wound. "No." America decided.

"Sit, your Majesty." Dr. Ashlar reminded her.

"I—"

"You're a wonderful Queen, but unless you've been misleading me for years, you have no training as a doctor or a nurse, therefore the best thing you can do for Maxon right now is to allow me time to work."

"Yes…" Against every instinct humming in her veins, she forced her legs to step backward. She stumbled, her body in a mutiny against her mind, but Officer Weaver caught her and helped her back, to a chair by the door.

A nurse came hurrying in carrying gauze and a few instruments America did not recognize. She and Dr. Ashlar spoke hurriedly, America only understanding half of what they were saying. The rest sounded like medical jargon.

America pressed her hands over her eyes, trying to block everything out. Maxon, unconscious and bleeding. The Great Room a haze of dark smoke and fire. They'd executed the plan perfectly, but everything had gone so wrong.

"Your Majesty," Dr. Ashlar's voice called from across the room. "You need to breathe."

She heard, now, the sounds of someone close by having a panic attack. She pitied them, she'd had more than her fair share of panic attacks in her life, and they were not pleasant. In fact, she'd been mid-panic attack the first time she'd ever laid eyes on Maxon, as he ordered the guards to allow her out into the gardens. Maxon…

"Your Majesty… Damn it." Dr. Ashlar's voice swore. "Cat, get an oxygen tank in here, fast."

"Sedative?" the nurse's voice asked. The voice was moving, she was already following orders.

"She's the ruling monarch while his Majesty remains unconscious, we can't put her on a sedative." Dr. Ashlar replied, and then his tone became imploring again. "Your Majesty… America, you need to steady your breathing."

Steady her breathing? Was she breathing? She was having a dissociative moment, her mind and body were not occupying the same space. She felt as if she was listening from somewhere else in the room, and her body was left behind. And apparently, having an anxiety attack.

For another long moment, she tried to rejoin her senses. She tried to force her mind to accept that the panicked breathing she was hearing was actually coming from within her body, but it was like staring at an optical illusion and trying to see it for what it really was. Her brain put up quite the struggle.

And then, without warning, she was snapped back into her body as a flash of white hot pain ripped through her abdomen. She cried out, clutching at her stomach, and then looked up at Dr. Ashlar with wide, fearful eyes.

"Breathe." his dark eyes were locked on hers, his tone soothing.

"The baby—" she gasped.

"The baby is fine." he promised her. "You're not going into labor." It was hard to tell from his tone whether he was reassuring her that she wasn't going into labor, or ordering her not to.

"That pain—" she could hear the hysteria in her own voice.

"I saw." Dr. Ashlar assured her. "You're going to be fine, and so is the baby. I promise."

He turned to Officer Weaver, standing protectively over America. "Count for her."

"Count?" Weaver asked, confused.

"Seven seconds in, eleven seconds out." Dr. Ashlar said. "In through her nose, out through her mouth. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Weaver knelt before America so that they were face to face.

"Your Majesty, do you understand?"

America was choking back tears now, convinced that she was about to lose Maxon and her baby, all because she couldn't control her own breathing.

"Damn it." Dr. Ashlar swore again. "Cat!" he yelled, and the nurse reappeared almost instantly, toting a small oxygen tank connected to a clear mask. "Thank God. Tend to the Queen."

"Of course." Cat knelt next to Officer Weaver. "Your Majesty? I'm Catherine, I'm one of the resident nurses here at the Palace. I'm going to help you breathe, okay?" She didn't wait for a response. "I'm going to put this mask on your face, it's going to deliver a higher concentration of oxygen into your lungs. That's going to help both you and the baby, okay?" Again, she didn't wait. She slipped the mask over America's nose and mouth and held it there, firmly. "Look at me. Your Majesty, look at me." she waited. "Look at me, your Majesty."

America managed to make her eyes work, dragging them up to the kind green irises staring back at her.

"Good." Catherine said. She took America's hand and squeezed it, hard. "Officer Weaver is going to count for you, while I keep track of your pulse. He's going to count to seven, while you breathe in through your nose. I want you to focus on expanding your stomach as much as possible, figuratively putting all of that air into your belly with the baby instead of into your chest. Officer Weaver is going to count to eleven while you breathe out."

Another pain tore through America's abdomen and she cried out again, the sound muffled in the plastic mask. These did not have the build up of normal contractions, but there could be no doubt that that's what they were.

"That will stop happening if you do as I tell you." Catherine said, urgently but reassuringly. "We need to do this for the baby. Come on, your Majesty."

Officer Weaver met Nurse Catherine's eyes and nodded, beginning to count steadily to seven, and America did her best to inhale the whole time. Her body was shaking, the muscles in her chest revolting against her, but through sheer force of will, she continued to shakily suck in breath through her nose.

"Good job." Catherine complimented, as Officer Weaver began the long, steady count out and America blew the air out through a tiny hole in her mouth. Exhaling was easier, much more of a letting go of effort.

After a few breaths, when it seemed like America and Weaver were both getting into a good rhythm, Nurse Catherine began speaking over Officer Weaver's steady counting.

"Those contractions were happening because your body was in distress. Your brain releases hormones when you experience stress, and those hormones trigger all kinds of physiological responses. In the wild, for you to experience the amount of stress you have today, you'd have to be pretty close to death. Your body has an instinct to get rid of anything that might slow you down in a life-or-death situation, including the baby."

America's eyes widened in horror, but the nurse merely shook her head.

"Everything's going to be fine. Once your body realizes that you are okay, it will stop triggering contractions. So you're going to keep breathing, and once your pulse evens out, I'm going to bring you a glass of water that you're going to drink all of. Dehydration can trigger contractions, too. Then, when Dr. Ashlar is done with his Majesty, he'll give you and the baby a thorough screening. My guess is, you're nowhere near early labor, ma'am. You probably haven't dilated so much as a quarter of a centimeter. Your body is just having a small meltdown, which you can control, which you must control, for your sake and for the baby's."

America knew she was getting better, because she heard every word. She locked eyes with Weaver and continued breathing for several more rounds. Finally, the nurse placed a hand over Weaver's and guided it to the oxygen mask. He was going to take over holding it steady. Nurse Catherine stood, quickly swept out of the room, and promptly returned with a tall glass of water.

"Are you feeling better?" Catherine asked America.

America nodded.

"Any more pains?"

America shook her head.

"Good. Let's take the mask off for a minute and see how you do."

Officer Weaver stopped counting and removed the mask. Nurse Catherine handed the glass of water to America's trembling hands, and then turned the oxygen tank off. While America worked on sipping the water and taking steady breaths, Nurse Catherine cleaned the cut on Weaver's head, determining that it was shallow and would not require stitches. She placed three small bandages laterally across the cut and announced that Weaver was as good as new.

When she checked America's pulse again, it was with an approving smile. "Much better, Ma'am. Stay put." Then she turned and rejoined Dr. Ashlar as if she'd never left his side.

Maxon looked better over there, though still unconscious. Now that more of his wounds were treated, it was easy to see that only a handful had been deep enough to require stitches. The rest were shallow and, now that the blood had been cleaned away, looked reasonably treatable. There was a deep, almost black bruise on Maxon's chest, right over his heart. That concerned America most.

"Um… Dr. Ashlar?" She tested out her voice. It worked.

"Yes, your Majesty?" he was still hyper-focused on Maxon.

"What is that bruise on his chest?"

Dr. Ashlar stepped aside to allow Nurse Catherine to insert an IV line into Maxon's wrist. As he waited, he stood upright for the first time since Maxon had been brought in, and his back cracked appreciatively. "When your husband was brought in, there was a large piece of shrapnel sticking out of what we thought was his heart."

America blinked, eyes darting to Maxon's chest. It was a bruise, certainly, but there was no hole.

"On cutting away his jacket and shirt, we found that the shrapnel was actually lodged into a small red camera in his suit breast pocket. The camera is warped beyond usefulness, I'm afraid, but it did save his Majesty's life."

America felt herself collapsing into gasps again, and reached for the plastic mask on her own. Dr. Ashlar hurried to her side and adjusted the tank so that oxygen was flowing through the mask. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, but other than a few sobs, she kept her breathing steady.

While she did this, Dr. Ashlar pried Maxon's eyelids open and checked the state of his pupils one more time, and Nurse Catherine fetched a blanket. For the first time, America realized that Maxon's clothes had been cut away down to his boxer shorts, which he liked to sleep in when it was warm enough, so now that his blood had been cleaned off he looked like he could be sleeping.

"Why is he unconscious?" America found herself asking, before she even realized she had lowered the oxygen mask. "Why isn't he awake right now?"

"He hit his head pretty hard when he fell back. He has sustained a concussion that I'll be keeping an eye on for a few days."

"I was standing right behind him. Weaver, who pulled Maxon back?"

"Avery, your Majesty."

"They couldn't have been more than a foot away from us, where we fell." America mused.

"I suppose not, ma'am." Weaver acknowledged.

There was a knock at the door, tentative and with an odd rhythm, and then the door to the hospital room opened slowly. Stavros stood on the other side, looking thoroughly shocked by everything around him. He took in the sight of Maxon and then America with wide, worried eyes. He hadn't been at the party, at Maxon's insistence, and now America was glad. She was glad for every single person they'd kept from that Great Room.

"Your Majesty." Stavros bowed to America. "How are you?"

Dr. Ashlar was the one who replied, in an almost defensive tone, "She hasn't been checked over yet, Adviser Stavros, we don't know how she is."

"I'm… hanging in there, Stavros. For now." America said, looking between her doctor and Maxon's chief adviser, confused. "Why are you here?"

"Well… there are decisions that need to be made, or at least approved, and with his Majesty being… incapacitated… temporarily, I'm afraid the responsibilities fall on you."

"Oh." America swallowed. "I see."

"I'm sorry. I know you're meant to be on maternity leave, but I'm afraid we need your guidance. I'm here to help, of course, but we really can't wait much longer." Stavros said.

"I understand."

"I know your husband is in the hospital and, of course, you wish to stay by his bedside, but Illéa must have a strong leader right now."

America almost laughed. She felt anything but strong. She remembered how tired she'd been at the party, before the explosion. Now here she sat, teetering back and forth on the precipice of another anxiety attack, tear stains on her cheeks, hands shaking, and trying to ward off contractions that threatened to send her into stress-induced early labor.

"What needs to happen in the next twelve hours?" America asked, her voice coming out horse, half a raspy whisper.

"We need confirmation that we've collected all of the rebels, and they need trials as well as punishments. The Palace needs to be re-secured. Half of the guards need to rotate out for at least four hours of sleep, and then the other half need to rotate out."

"So then I need to see Commander Leger."

"Yes, ma'am." Stavros nodded, taking her deduction to be a command. "A press release explaining what happened needs to be sent out, and a formal, preferably video'd statement from you would be helpful, reassuring the people that everything is fine."

"Then bring me Gavril, and my maid, Mary."

"Yes, ma'am. The damage to the Palace needs to be properly assessed and immediate plans need to be made for repairs."

"Silvia."

"Yes, ma'am." Stavros agreed. "The death tolls and injuries need to be officially tallied, and arrangements need to be made for the dead."

America blinked, finally stumped. "Who—"

Stavros anticipated her question, "Dr. Ashlar will tally the injured, as part of his responsibilities as head of the Palace hospital wing. I recommend having Leger assign one of his men to tally the dead, contact the Angeles mortuary, and have the bodies moved."

"Yes."

"Individual families of our deceased will need to be notified."

"Someone should do that in-person."

"Very well, ma'am. Leger will attend to those details."

"I'd like a list of our dead, too. I'd like to call their families later this week, I think. Or perhaps write them. There will be posthumous medals awarded."

"Yes, ma'am. When we get an official count, I'll have the paperwork copied and waiting on your desk. Once we have both counts, they'll be sent to me, to you, and to Gavril. Gavril will need to release the death and injury counts for both sides."

"Yes." America nodded. At least that much she was familiar with.

"That will be all for the next twelve hours, ma'am."

"Alright, good. I need to meet with every person we've named."

"Yes, ma'am. In your office?"

"No. Here. I still need to be looked over, and I won't need long with each of them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Stavros? If Commander Leger is certain that the Palace is secure, then I would like my family with me, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Immediately. Would you see to that first thing?"

"Right away."

"Thank you."

Stavros paused on his way out the door, just as America was commending herself. She realized that she did a reasonably good Maxon impression when she needed to. Those years of childishly imitating his 'king' voice were actually paying off. She'd never had to be the Queen without her king before, and she didn't want to make a habit of it, but she thought Maxon would be proud of the way she'd handled Stavros just then. At least she hadn't faltered.

"Ma'am?" Stavros said, tentatively. He was second-guessing himself again. "I know you haven't been checked over yet, but… you are alright, aren't you?"

"I'm going to be." America promised him. She tried to make herself sound certain, like she wasn't still bracing herself for more abdomen-shattering contractions.

"She needs to keep her stress levels from spiking, Adviser Stavros, the baby's wellbeing depends on it. We don't want the heir born tonight, particularly not in an emergency operation."

Stavros seemed to grow pale at the thought. "Absolutely not. We'll take care to help her as much as possible."

Dr. Ashlar frowned, but he seemed satisfied by the answer.


While America waited for the people she'd summoned to arrive, Dr. Ashlar took her to a room down the hall from Maxon for her checkup. She'd asked to stay with her husband, but Dr. Ashlar wanted to do an ultrasound, and the machine was too big to move.

America's blood pressure was recorded (A little higher than usual, but that wasn't surprising after the night she'd had), and the baby's heart rate was tracked (A little faster than usual, something to monitor for the next few days).

America removed her fancy gown, now dusty, bloody, and torn, and slipped on a hospital gown provided by Dr. Ashlar. Just as she was situating a blanket over her legs and settling into the usual partially reclined position for her ultrasound, the door to her room burst open.

"God, Ames!" May was the first one through, launching herself into America's arms.

"We heard the explosion all the way in the safe room!" Magda said, following May and positioning herself up by America's head. She smoothed the hair off of America's face, "Are you alright?"

"I think so." America said. "I was lucky… Maxon…" she didn't want to have another panic attack, and she could feel her chest tightening. She breathed deliberately, "He protected me. So did Officer Weaver."

"And how are they?" Kenna asked. "No one would tell us anything, and then Maxon's adviser came to get us, but he wouldn't answer any of our questions. He just said you needed us."

"I do." America gulped, realizing how true it was. "I do need you… Officer Weaver is alright. He got scratched up, but he's been treated. He's reporting to Aspen for orders, but he said he'll be checking on me periodically. He's worried about the baby, I fell pretty hard when he pulled me back from the explosion, and then he had to lay on top of me to shield me from debris…" she bit her lip hard, trying not to relive the explosion, and failing.

"Ames?" It was James' steady voice. "You haven't told us about Maxon."

That in itself told them a lot. If Maxon was alright, America would have reassured them right away.

James tried again, "America? Is Maxon okay?"

America tore her eyes away from her belly and met James' worried expression. She answered him as best she could, by wordlessly shrugging her shoulders. She genuinely did not know.

Dr. Ashlar cleared his throat, studying the new additions to the room. "His Majesty has suffered a severe concussion, as well as multiple abrasions to his torso and legs, some of them severe. He has a few mild burns and some acute bruising, but his condition is not critical. His heart and lungs are functioning normally, and I expect him to be regaining consciousness soon."

"How soon?" America asked, unable to keep the hopefulness from her tone.

"There's no way to be certain, ma'am, but there is nothing in the nature of his injuries that would lend itself to prolonged unconsciousness. The sooner he awakens, the better."

"Yes." On that point, America agreed.

"We should hurry along with this ultrasound." Dr. Ashlar said. "I'd like to have a good look at the baby and then release you to attend to your duties. I have other patients awaiting care."

"Of course." America agreed, pulling her hospital gown up above her stomach.

Gerad crawled up onto the foot of America's bed, pulling her feet, poking out of the bottom of the blanket, into his lap. James and Kenna came around to Dr. Ashlar's side of the bed, where Maxon usually liked to stand. Kenna laced her fingers through America's and squeezed reassuringly, and James rested his chin on Kenna's shoulder, eyes glued to the screen. This was the first time America's family was getting to attend an ultrasound. America was inexpressibly glad to have them with her.

As Magda continued to brush her fingers through America's hair, Dr. Ashlar spread the clear, cold gel onto America's stomach. He needed much more now than he had months ago, for America's first ultrasound. Her belly was now many, many times its original size.

Dr. Ashlar placed the wand on her lower belly and looked around for a moment before locating the baby's face. "There it is." Dr. Ashlar said, warmly.

The machine was emitting the baby's heartbeat, but the rhythm didn't sound faster to America's ears. "Is the heart still beating too quickly?" America asked.

Dr. Ashlar nodded, seriously. "It's likely a response to the hormones it has been exposed to tonight. Specifically the stress hormones. We'll keep a close eye on the baby for the next few days, and it should go back to normal."

Dr. Ashlar returned to studying the baby's features, the little face clearly visible mere centimeters away from the wand, but completely out of reach until the time of its birth.

"I think it looks like you." Kenna said, and America was surprised to find tears on her sister's cheeks.

"Really? That's what I look like to you?" America forced a giggle, trying to joke. It was obviously the shadowed outline of a baby's face, and not much resembling America's adult features at all.

"That's what you looked like when you were a baby." Kenna said, giving America's hand a squeeze.

May crawled the rest of the way onto the bed next to America and laid her body flush with her older sister's. "I think that's what Astra looked like, too."

"I think that's what all babies look like." America objected.

"Nah." James shook his head. "It has Maxon's nose."

That made America laugh, genuinely. The sound was surprising, but it seemed to thaw the temperature in the room by ten degrees. "That is not what Maxon's nose looks like."

"I mean, it's a smaller version, sure." James grinned. "I don't know. I'm going to dig through those photographs of his and see if I can find one from when he was a baby. You'll see what I mean."

"How do you know what he looked like?" America asked, amused.

"I remember when Maxon was a baby!" James defended his assertion. "I was a strapping five-year-old when he was born. I remember the parades, the fireworks. My parents didn't have to go to work the next day, but they still got paid. We even got cake from the bakery in celebration. I remember the face of the baby that got me cake in the middle of the week for seemingly no reason. Maxon's been my best buddy since the day he was born, he just didn't know it yet."

America's expression grew strained in the short silence that followed, listening to the sound of the baby's painfully racing heartbeat, thinking of that story from James' childhood. Maxon was already missing so much.

"Do you know what?" Magda said, purposefully breaking the ice that had frozen over the group as she gazed transfixed at her future grandchild on the screen. "I think you're right, James. I remember when Maxon was born, too, and I think that looks a lot like his nose did."

"See?" James said, pridefully.

"It looks cute." May said, simply, to end the debate.

"It looks a little like a ghost or a zombie." Gerad tilted his head to the side. "It could have come from a horror movie."

"That's only because we can't see its warm, peachy skin or its beautiful eyes." May reassured her little brother. Then she grinned, "I hope it has red hair."

"Astra said the same thing." America squeezed her sister tighter to her side.

"They'd look like siblings, if that baby came out with red hair. Astra would love that." Kenna smiled.

James chuckled, "I think she's going to be in heaven either way. It took a while after you broke the news of your pregnancy to us for her to fully understand. We had to explain several times about how babies needed lots of time to grow strong enough to come out of their mommy's tummies and play."

"She hasn't asked us how babies get into their mommy's tummies yet, which is nice." Kenna said, musing. "Although, I think she thinks women can make them all on their own. Like we just decide we want a baby, and one appears in our stomach."

"That's fine." James said, his protective, fatherly tone of voice sneaking in. "Let her think that for a few more years." Then he shook his head and his tone returned to normal, "Anyway, now she understands and the hype is really building up."

"I don't think it helps that the baby is coming between her birthday and Christmas. Like it's part of this amazing trifecta of excitement." Kenna sighed.

"She's stoked in a way we did not expect her to be." James agreed.

"That's good, though." May said. "She's already so compassionate and caring, not just for a kid her age, but for anyone. She's a complete sweetheart, she's going to be an amazing mini-mommy to this baby. She'll learn so much, helping to feed and change it, helping to give it baths and put it down for naps."

"I'm looking forward to joint nap time." Kenna agreed. "Astra's pretty susceptible to persuasion. If she sees someone else napping, she's a lot easier to put down, herself. I think the same will be true of bath time. She might like to climb into the tub with the baby."

America grinned, "That'll be great. They're going to be quite the team, running around this palace in a couple of years."

"Yeah, they're going to own the place." James agreed. "If the baby is a boy, then Illéa's going to have a new king and queen on its hands. A kid king and queen."

America liked the sound of that. The kid king and queen of Illéa.

While they'd been talking, Dr. Ashlar had been studying the rest of the baby's body, slowly examining the whole of America's stomach with the wand. "Well, your Majesty. I don't see anything that would indicate any damage to the baby. No breaks, no swelling. The baby looks to be completely unharmed."

"Oh, thank God." America breathed. She couldn't imagine if Dr. Ashlar had found a broken arm or broken leg. The pain her child would be in, without even being able to cry about it. It was an excruciating thought.

"The baby is healthy." Dr. Ashlar said, "Other than the elevated heart rate."

"I'm hoping to sleep in a few hours." America said. "Do you think that will help?"

"Absolutely." Dr. Ashlar nodded. "I highly recommend sleep and rest. If you can't sleep or rest your mind, at least rest your body as you contend with the fallout from the attack."

"I'll try." America said. Then she put on her Queen voice and stated, "I'd like to stay close to the hospital wing for a little while, in case I start contracting again."

"What?" Kenna spoke for the whole family. "Contracting again? Ames!"

"Her Majesty experienced two rather strong, but isolated contractions earlier this evening. They were triggered by stress, and we do not expect a recurrence." Dr. Ashlar explained, calmly. "But," he turned to America, "I think that's a wise instinct, ma'am."

"I'd like to use one of the rooms next to Maxon's."

"I'll have one cleared right away."

"Thank you."

Dr. Ashlar bowed and left the room, and May sopped up the gel on America's stomach with some tissues on the stand next to the hospital bed.

"What now?" Gerad asked, sounding eager. As usual, he wanted to help.

America closed her eyes for a moment, melting back onto the bed. Letting her tense muscles turn to jelly underneath her, and acknowledging for the first time the burning pain in her right shoulder blade.

"You should sleep." America heard herself saying. "All of you should get some sleep." When she opened her eyes, her entire family blinked back at her, disbelieving. She sighed, "Seriously? It's two in the morning, and I know you didn't get much rest in the safe room tonight."

"Kenna and I aren't even blinking for long periods of time until Astra gets back from her sleepover." James said, firmly.

"That's understandable." America turned to May and Gerad.

"Yeah, right." May rolled her eyes.

"Nice try, Ames." Gerad agreed.

"We can help, and even if we can't, we're not splitting up right now." May insisted.

"Yeah." Gerad nodded. "We're staying with you."

"Do you even understand that you just survived a bomb explosion?" May demanded. "You expect us to go off on our own at a time like this?"

America frowned. She probably didn't understand that she'd survived a bomb explosion, honestly. She was still processing everything. "Okay, then." she agreed. She closed her eyes and took a few more focused breaths. "Mary should be waiting for me nearby. I need her first."

"I'll go." Magda volunteered.

"She'll probably have guessed, but tell her that I need clothes, hair, and makeup. And…" America glanced awkwardly at James and Gerad, who both covered their ears with their hands and started humming. America smiled at their silliness, but took advantage of it. "I've hurt my shoulder blade. I can't wear a normal bra right now… maybe even any bra right now. She'll think of something to get me through the next twelve hours."

"Of course." Magda stood, brushing a hand across May's back and ruffling Gerad's hair as she left.

"Ger," America said, "Aspen's going to be somewhere nearby, too. Tell him that I'm getting a quick shower and changing clothes, and that I'll be out soon. Dr. Ashlar has cleared out a room next to Maxon's, that's where we're going to meet as soon as I'm ready."

"Okay." Gerad hurried out of the room, pleased with his task. He felt right at home with the guards, and appreciated when America acknowledged this.

"May, I need food and baby aspirin."

"Baby aspirin?"

"It's gentle enough that it won't hurt the baby, but effective enough that it helps with swelling. Dr. Ashlar's had me taking some daily to help with the normal pregnancy aches and pains. I've got a bottle in my room."

"Right. And food?"

"No leftovers from the party. Actually… have the kitchens donate all of those leftovers. I don't want to see them again."

"Of course." May pressed a kiss to America's cheek and then climbed out of bed. She was out the door in a swish of long, red hair.

America pinched the bridge of her nose with her newly free fingers, her other hand still clutched to Kenna's. "James, please sit with Maxon for a while. I don't want him to be alone, if he wakes up while I'm dealing with all of this."

"Sure." James nodded.

"And call Marlee. She won't mind being woken up. Make sure she knows that we're all… alive, at least. And that she can come back as soon as the kids wake up."

James took a moment to study her face, then he leant over and kissed Kenna's temple. "Alright. I'll keep an eye on him for you. I'll make sure you know the second he starts twitching, if it looks like he's going to wake up."

"Thank you." America smiled, bravely. Gratefully.

Finally, it was just America and Kenna, holding hands tightly. They sat there, enjoying the cool silence. It unnerved America when she felt her own fatigue catching up with her. She had so much to do before she could sleep.

"I can't lift my arms over my head." America announced, suddenly. "My shoulder blade… well, I still think it's just bruised, but the swelling is getting worse now that it's been a couple of hours."

"Of course."

"I need help washing my hair."

Kenna smiled, brushing her thumb against America's hand. "I can help. Just like when we were girls and we used to take baths together."

"I look a little different than I did when I was four." America gestured down to her enormous stomach.

Kenna laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of America's head. "You were always so modest. Leave that cotton hospital gown on, then. It'll dry, and it's yours anyway. This whole hospital is yours."

America nodded, glad she didn't have one of those gowns that was open at the back. "Okay. That sounds good."

Kenna disappeared from the room for a minute, leaving America with a moment to herself. It was good that Kenna was so quickly, because if America had been left alone for any longer, she'd have had a meltdown.

When she returned, Kenna had small bottles of minty shampoo, conditioner, and body soap, as well as a new toothbrush, small tube of toothpaste, and a large-toothed comb. "Let's get that explosion off of you, Ames." Kenna said, sweetly.

That was the first time it occurred to America that she probably had tiny, microscopic bits of K all over her, along with the rest of the dirt and ash from the explosion. She hurried out of bed and into the small, private bathroom faster than her stiff muscles wanted her to go, but she regretted nothing when the cool spray of shower water hit her face in a glorious downpour. With her sister's help, she would wash this day off of her. With enough soap and water, she would be clean.


The meeting with Stavros, Aspen, Gavril, and Silvia really didn't take long, once America was dressed. She ate the breakfast May brought back for her in the room she'd commandeered next to Maxon's. One by one, her family returned from their tasks and went to stand vigil with James over Maxon's unconscious body. America liked knowing that, if Maxon awoke now, he'd be surrounded by family. She knew that would put a smile on his face, first thing.

Silvia was the first to curtsey out. She knew what needed to be done. She'd contact the same architect who'd remodeled America's room and ask him to reinvent the Great Room. It would be tested for structural soundness, and several design options would be on America's desk by Monday. None of that could happen until sunrise, however, so she was off to get some sleep.

Gavril was the next out. He didn't want America to worry about a thing. He'd take care of drafting the statement and preparing her office, and in an hour she'd go in and record her message to the nation. Mary had dressed her impeccably, so she wouldn't even have to concern herself with changing clothes.

Aspen stayed longest, even though he had the most to do. He informed her that all of the rebels from the camp had been captured in the tunnels, that rebel leaders were being questioned now, and the correct sentencing would be determined on a case-by-case basis over the next week. Not all of them would die, which was what America had wanted to know. Even now, the idea of killing all of them felt wrong. It felt like what Clarkson would have done.

Aspen took a moment once Stavros left to hug America close to his chest.

"You're alright." he breathed.

"Yeah. It worked. I made it. We made it." America said, including the baby in her assessment.

"You have no idea… When I heard the bomb go off…"

America nodded, "I still don't understand half of what happened. I thought…"

"What?"

"I thought… I don't know. I don't understand how he got to the party—"

"We're investigating now."

"Well…" she sighed and shrugged, her shoulder stiff and painful as she moved it. It hardly mattered that there was an investigation now. K was dead. She blinked, "He's definitely dead, right? He didn't fake his death, he won't be coming back later?"

"No, he's dead. We've recovered enough… pieces—" America winced, and Aspen nodded understandingly. "He's gone. Others could, theoretically, spring up in his place and try to take on the mantle of the King of Spades, but I don't think that's likely. These are the last of a dying breed of rebel. These are rebels handmade by King Clarkson's policies. There are no more like them being produced, now that Maxon has taken over."

"That's good to hear."

"I'm trying to tell you that you're safe, Mer." Aspen said, hugging her again. "You don't look very relieved, though."

America breathed in that scent, that familiar, warm, comforting Aspen scent and sighed. "No. Not until Maxon wakes up. Not until we're both out of the hospital and healthy. Maybe not even until this baby is born and I can see for myself that it's has ten fingers, ten toes, and no damage from tonight."

Aspen nodded. "Give yourself time. But don't be afraid to feel safe, when you finally do. Maxon's plan worked. It didn't work exactly how we'd hoped, but it did work, in the end."

"It got K into the Palace, but we didn't trap him." America argued. "I just don't understand…"

Aspen tilted his head to the side, considering this. "He… listen, I wasn't going to talk about this with you… at least not until Maxon wakes up, but… come here." He guided her to the hospital bed and helped her get comfortable, then he sat next to her knees, facing her. "The explosive he had on his person wasn't very powerful."

America scoffed, "Aspen, are you kidding right now? Maxon is next door, lying in a coma—"

"I mean, for the whole wide world of explosives he could have worn, he did not choose a powerful one."

"…Why?"

"He thought he'd have friends nearby. The rest of the rebels were meant to be waiting just outside, ready to kill everyone within. They didn't think the whole party would be armed operatives, they were expecting civilians. Imagine if their plan had worked. A bomb goes off, there's fire and ash and chaos, and in marches an entire camp's worth of rebels, armed to the teeth, opening fire on the civilians inside. The King and Queen have not been blown to pieces—"

"Why not?"

"Because your bodies need to be identifiable for the public to accept your deaths and accept that the monarchy is over and the rebels have claimed the empty throne."

"Oh." America was glad he'd relocated them to the bed now. She let her head loll to the side at the thought.

"See, I figure K wanted one last look at you before you died. He wanted to see the moment you realized that everything was wrong, and nothing would ever be right again. That's the moment he relived in his head for years, wasn't it? The moment his kids died?"

"You mean you were actually paying attention to me, all those times I tried to make you care about K's backstory?" America grinned.

Aspen smiled affectionately, and shrugged sheepishly. "It was interesting information to have, even if it wasn't very useful."

"So, K wanted to watch our devastation as we recognized him and realized that our lives were over?"

"Yeah. I would. If I had to listen to Meri's screams in my head every night before I fell asleep, or dream about those soldiers tossing Astra onto the burning rubble of her home, I'd want to personally take away some happiness."

America blinked, heavily, "I don't need the visual, Aspen."

"Sorry." Aspen sounded truly apologetic. "All I mean to say is that, the only way to get to see you and the King, to see the moment you gave up, and to get what the rebels were looking for with a destroyed Great Room but recognizable monarch bodies, was for K to wear the bomb. If someone else had worn the bomb, you might not have even known what was happening until you were already dead or unconscious. Certainly not the unsullied versions of yourself that he got tonight."

America shook her head, "He'd rather watch us tremble than actually be the one to kill us?"

Aspen looked sympathetically at America, "The killing part wasn't what made him the monster he became. It was the torture, Ames, it was the screaming. His wife, in labor with their child for far too long, gasping and screaming, tortured to death by the birth of their stillborn baby. They both could have lived if there had been better medical care in the south, but since there wasn't, they died a tormented death. The screams of his daughter, beaten and raped before being thrown onto the pyre of their family home. The same home she'd been born in, learned to walk in, learned to paint and make music in. It was never death that set him off, lots of people lost loved ones to death at the hands of King Clarkson's regime. He didn't care as much for the killing as he did for the torture. He wanted to watch you realize that you were dead, before you'd even died. That's what he did with those captives that he killed on camera, remember?"

America was stunned, "You've done a little research of your own on K."

"A little." Aspen confessed. "It was interesting, to get inside his head, Ames. You're a smart strategist."

"But, Aspen, the notes—" America tried to argue, but even those looked different under the light of this conversation. "They weren't really about killing me if he ever saw me, were they?"

"No, those were just the words K wrote."

"They were about torturing Maxon with the possibility."

"Yes. And you knew that, on some level, right from the start."

"So K died, thinking we were about to die."

"Yes."

"And he'll never know that we're fine and the baby is healthy, and the monarchy is strong?"

"No."

"He died thinking he'd won."

"Yes." Aspen said. "He likely felt extreme peace in his last moments. Does it matter?"

America swallowed, "I suppose that was the first moment of peace he'd had since his children were murdered?"

"I would guess. Isn't that how it would have been for you?"

There was no way to say what America would have done in his position. She didn't think she would have become a crazed murderer, but she couldn't swear to it.

"Thank you, Aspen."

"For?"

"Everything. But specifically, for helping me understand. For talking this through with me."

Aspen nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Knowing you, I figured it was the only way you'd get any sleep for the next few days."

"We're safe now?"

"Safe." Aspen smiled. "I would even let you visit Angeles without personally guarding you, but you're far too pregnant for all of that."

"Well, am I safe enough for Lucy and Meri to come and visit me this weekend?"

"Definitely. I'll ask."

"Thanks. I love you, Aspen."

"Love you, too, Mer. Take a nap. Gavril will send someone for you when it's time to record your address to the nation."

America didn't think she'd honestly be able to find any sleep, as wound up as she was, with all of these thoughts buzzing through her mind. She also had the feeling that if she slept now, and it was only for the hour until Gavril would be ready for her, she'd honestly wake up more tired than she would have been if she'd never napped in the first place.

So instead, she dragged herself out of bed and tiptoed into Maxon's room.

"Still nothing?" America asked, softly. She kept her voice down, seeing that May and Gerad were asleep in the corner. Someone must have dragged in a couch for them, because it certainly hadn't been there earlier, but it was the perfect size for them to sleep, each curled on opposite ends, their feet tangled in the middle.

There were more chairs now, too, enough for Kenna, Magda, James, and even an empty one next to Kenna. James leapt up from where he'd been sitting, right by Maxon's side, and offered America that chair. He moved to Kenna's side.

"A nurse has been by four times." Kenna said. "No significant changes. It's good that he's holding steady, but…"

"But we want him to wake up." James frowned.

America nodded. "Yes, we do." she said, simply.

She lowered herself heavily onto the bed at his side and took his limp hand in her own, the one without any tubes going into his wrist. She pressed his hand onto her stomach at the top, where the baby's feet were, and then she leant down and pressed a kiss to Maxon's forehead. She stayed just like that for a minute, her lips at his golden locks, and it didn't take long for her to feel what she was waiting for. The baby kicked Maxon's hand, hard.

"Feel that?" she murmured to her husband, speaking softly, her lips tickling his ear. "The baby misses you. We want you to wake up now, Maxon." She pressed a kiss to the hair right by his ear and then she added, "Please."

She stayed like that, her cheek resting against his, until the baby kicked two more times. Maxon hadn't so much as twitched, she hadn't really expected him to, but she knew that some part of his brain had heard her. His hand felt that baby, even if his consciousness hadn't, and if there was one thing America knew, it was that Maxon loved her with everything he had. Every part of his brain adored her, even the subconscious parts. Every particle of his being was a father to this baby and a husband to her, so she knew she'd just communicated with him, even if he couldn't communicate back. Even if he wouldn't consciously remember it happening.

When she heaved herself upright and gently returned Maxon's hand to the bed, her mother, sister, and brother-in-law were staring away, trying their best not to intrude on America's moment with Maxon.

"So, Ames," Kenna broke the silence. "What's happening next?"

"I have a bit of time, I'd like to use it to sit with Maxon. In a little while, Gavril is going to send for me, and I'll go record a message to the nation about the attack. We're hoping Maxon will wake up and feel up to recording something by the afternoon… but honestly, at this point, I just want him here to talk with. He's always my anchor in these kinds of storms. I feel a little lost without him." America admitted, knowing Maxon's ears could hear her, and his brain could interpret the words, even if he couldn't consciously acknowledge them. On some level, Maxon knew how much she missed him. That was what mattered to her.

"Just so you know… you've been doing an amazing job, Ames." James said, seriously. "I'm sure you feel like a usurper or something right now, but you're not. You're a magnificent queen."

America smiled, even laughed a little at his 'usurper' line, and thanked him.

She waited for Gavril's summons, sitting next to Maxon the whole time. Eventually she moved into the chair so that she could see her family better, but when she did, she kept his hand laced in hers so that he could still feel her there. They talked about Astra's birthday (which was quickly approaching), the future niece or nephew Kenna and James were going to give America after that birthday, and how soon the Singers wanted to move back into the house in Angeles. Now that the rebel threat was neutralized, theoretically they could return home immediately. They'd still have their usual personal guards, and that should be more than adequate to keep them safe at home.

The thought of her family leaving the Palace made America much sadder than it should have. They would only be a short car ride away, which had been Maxon's whole point in buying the house for them in the first place. Gerad would get to return to his beloved soccer goal, and they'd all enjoy returning to their own rooms, their own lives. Astra probably barely remembered the place, and it was her home.

But Magda was quick to say that she wasn't going anywhere until after the baby was born. She'd stay put and enjoy the first few weeks of her grandchild's life, whilst staying right down the hall, thank you very much.

Kenna reminded America that she and Astra weren't really going anywhere, since Kenna was going to be the baby's nanny in a few weeks. They'd leave for weekends and days off, but they'd never go far. James added that he went where Kenna went, anywhere Kenna went, so he'd be close at hand, too.

America also knew that she'd have had to build a wall around the Palace a hundred miles high to keep May away from the baby once it was born, and Gerad would probably want to continue training with the guards a few times a week. As long as Aspen made it a condition of Gerad's training that he had to eat dinner with America and Maxon on the days he joined the guards, America would be able to live with that.

America was starting to nod off, listening to Kenna and Magda make plans for the baby's first few weeks of life. She could feel her head growing heavy, bobbing up and down as she struggled to stay awake. Suddenly someone was carrying her, and then setting her down on a soft place. A bed. She was in the room next to Maxon's, but she wasn't alone. After a moment, she felt two warm bodies stretch out next to her. Gerad and May.

Then, sometime later, soft voices. Several low voices, with low rumblings. America stretched her back and rubbed her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her fingers on her tight skin, even over the fabric of her soft dress. Next to her, Gerad mumbled a little in his sleep and rolled over before drifting off again.

"Ames." Someone was whispering right above her.

America blinked her heavy eyelids open. "Hm?"

Kenna stood on the side of the bed, studying her worriedly. "Gavril is here."

"Oh." America tried to sit up twice and failed before finally succeeding on her third attempt.

"I let you sleep as long as I could, and I'm sorry to disturb you, but—" Gavril's voice was apologetic.

"No, of course… how long was I asleep?"

"An hour and a half, give or take." James said. "Not counting the time you were bobbing back and forth in that chair before I carried you in here."

"Wow. Thank you, Gavril. I know I've put you behind schedule."

"Oh, your Majesty." Gavril shook his head and sighed. "If there was any way… if there was anyone else."

"I know."

"You've been through more than enough for one night."

"Let's go." America said.

May had awoken at some point during the exchange and moved out of the way so that America could get up. Kenna and May both offered her a hand, tugging her to her feet. America found her shoes placed neatly by the door and she slid into them.

"I'll go with you." Kenna announced.

"You don't need to, Ken, I'll be fine."

"I want to go." Kenna assured her.

"We'll go, too." May mumbled, taking her mother's hand.

"No, I'm fine—" America attempted to argue.

"You've never done one of these without Maxon." Magda said, seriously. "Let us be there for you."

America considered this. "But, Maxon—"

"We'll stay with him." James said, already dipping down to scoop up Gerad. "It'll be just us brothers. That way, when Maxon wakes up, I can send Gerad to sprint over and get you. It'll be more efficient this way." he paused, considering America's expression.

America didn't even know why she was arguing anymore. "Alright." she took Gavril's arm and let him lead her away, already giving her a summary of what to expect next. America liked this. She'd spent the last twelve hours with no idea of what to expect next, it was unbelievably nice to finally have someone outlining the next half hour in detail for her. Absolutely no surprises.


America was glad her family was with her when she recorded that message, in the end. She wasn't sure she could have gotten through announcing to the world that Maxon had been grievously injured and was now lying unconscious in the hospital wing at the Palace, without the warm, encouraging looks her mother and sisters were feeding her from behind the camera.

It felt like she was speaking for hours under the hot lights, sitting on one of the sofas in her office, but the actual statement was only two paragraphs long. One on the attack, the other on the state of the King, and a closing sentence reassuring the world that the state of the monarchy was strong and that Maxon would be back at the helm very soon.

Gavril didn't bother making her do a second or third take, he was genuine concerned about her wellbeing, and her first take was nearly perfect. Instead, he cleared out of her office with a bow and reassurances that he would take care of everything else, from a public relations perspective.

"You need to get some real sleep, America." Magda said, the second they were alone.

"I want to go back to Maxon."

"Maxon is well-tended, and still unconscious." Magda reminded her. "It would do you so much good to lay down in your own bed for a little while."

"I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."

May giggled, "And what are his brothers? Imaginary friends?"

"I just meant that I should be there, to reassure him. He'll want to know what's happening-"

"Ames." Kenna breathed, stepping forward and placing a hand at America's elbow. "How do you think he'd feel if he woke up and you were sitting at his bedside, exhausted and desperately staving off preterm labor?"

"...Not great."

"And how would he feel if he woke up to his brothers' smiling faces and a reassurance from James that you and the baby are well and getting plenty of rest in your own bed?"

"...He'd probably be happy about that."

"Do you think he'll want you to immediately catch him up on all of the royal business you've been attending to, or do you think he'd appreciate some time to acclimate himself to his injuries and adjust to what's happening?"

"I get your point."

"Plus, Gerad's looking forward to having permission to sprint the length of the Palace. He's usually not allowed to run indoors, but he's always wanted to time himself trying. You don't really want to take that away from him, do you?"

"...Alright, fine. You win." America relented.

Kenna grinned and pressed a kiss to America's temple. "I'm so proud of you, do you know that?"

"We all are." Magda added. Then she smiled at her eldest daughter, "I'm proud of you, too, Kenna. You're a wonderful mother, and an amazing big sister. I don't think we tell you that often enough." Kenna grinned, sheepishly. She even blushed a little, but having her mother's blatant approval clearly made her very happy.

"Come on." May said, "Singer girl slumber party."

"Just for a few hours." America insisted, taking her little sister's hand.

"We'll see." May shrugged.

"No, not 'we'll see'. Everyone in this Palace works for me, I can have one of them come in and wake us up if you try to reset the alarm clock." America made her expression stern, but she didn't feel stern at all.

"You think there's a single person in this Palace who doesn't want to see you well-rested and recovering?" May's smile was impish.

"I'm sure that's what they want, but I'm also sure they'd rather I not throw them into the dungeons. "

May scoffed, "Your dungeons are full of rebels right now, your majesty. You don't have room for well-intentioned staff down there."

America felt the baby kick and quickly pressed May's hand to the spot, in time for another swift kick. "That's a good sign." America smiled tentatively as they began the walk to the third floor.

"Yes." May beamed. "That's definitely a step in the right direction."


America wasn't sure when she'd nodded off. For a while she didn't think that she'd be able to sleep at all, as worried as she was about Maxon, but she contented herself with lying still, closing her eyes, and listening to her sisters and mother murmur back and forth to each other. At some point those comforting, lulling sounds did the trick, and America fell into a dreamless, restful sleep.

She did not awaken slowly, groggily drifting from unconsciousness to consciousness like she usually did. No, she awoke all at once, surprised she'd even managed to sleep in the first place. She knew time had passed because the sun was burning bright through the curtains and the bed was empty except for one other occupant. The occupant who'd awoken her.

There were warm, little lips pressed to America's cheek, and a loud 'Mwah!' sound, and America's eyelids snapped open to find a pink-cheeked Astra grinning above her.

"Astra, baby, no—" Kenna was too late, chasing her daughter into the room.

Astra's breathing was fast, like she'd sprinted to America's bed. "Good morning, Aunt Ames."

"Good morning, my love." America smiled, returning Astra's kiss with one of her own.

Kenna's forehead was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and she was breathing quickly, too. "She asked for you, first thing. And then, when I told her where you were… she took off." Kenna said, gravely, and America laughed as Kenna collapsed onto the bed.

"Okay, Mommy?"

"Fine, baby, but you shouldn't run off without me like that. I want you to stay close and safe." Kenna explained.

"But I have to tell Aunt Ames about the ice cream!"

"You do?" Kenna asked.

"I had some for her, I have to tell her!"

America laughed, remembering the midnight conversation she and Astra had had, when Astra had promised to eat a scoop of ice cream on America's behalf. "So Kile's Grandma and Grandpa had ice cream, did they?"

"Oh, yes, two kinds!" Astra exclaimed.

"What kinds did they have?" America asked, as she underwent the herculean task of sitting herself upright in the bed and leaning against the headboard for support.

"Chocolate and blanilla!"

"Chocolate and vanilla? Those sound delicious. Did you try both of them?"

"Yes, the chocolate was for you."

"Because you know I love chocolate?"

"Mhmm." Astra grinned.

"Thank you so much. Was it delicious?"

"It was very d… dishes." Astra nodded.

America pulled Astra in for a tight hug. "I'm so glad."

"And Kile's grandma will bring some here, to the Castle!"

"She'll bring some to the Palace?" America grinned.

"Yes, so we can have more."

"I would like that very much." America inhaled deeply. Astra smelled sweet and there was ginger on her breath. Maybe Kile's grandma had given them gingerbread cookies for the road?

Kenna cleared her throat and sat up, breathing starting to even out, crossing her legs. "We haven't talked about… anything yet. Astra just got back."

"Oh… alright." America understood. Astra didn't know about Maxon, yet.

"Baby okay?" Astra asked, studying America's stomach closely, patting it gently with her hands as if to test the consistency.

"Yes, I think the baby is doing just fine, now. For a little while, I thought it might come out and see us today."

"Really?" Astra grinned. "That would be fun!"

"Yes, but I'm glad the baby decided to stay inside."

"So it can be stronger?" Astra asked, wisely.

"Yes, exactly. I want it to be as strong as possible before it comes out into this great big world." America agreed, surprised at how true her words were. As uncomfortable as she was, she'd gladly carry this baby in her body for another nine months, if it meant keeping it safe.

"Where Mackin?" Astra asked, peeking under the blankets. No Maxon there.

Kenna answered first, clearly having been anticipating this conversation for hours now. "Maxon is sleeping, sweetheart."

"Not here." Astra said, then she crawled across the bed to Maxon's empty side and craned her neck over the edge, where she could peek through the open doors, across the family room, and into Maxon's room. "Not there."

"No, he's sleeping at the doctor's office."

Astra made a silly, sour face. "He got a shot?"

America winced horribly, the innocent words taking on a terrifying quality in her ears. No, not this time, America thought. He did not get shot this time.

"He did have to get a few shots to help him feel better." Kenna nodded.

"He sick?" Astra's eyes were wide now, as this news sank in.

"No, he's not sick. He got hurt."

Astra stared down at the bed, not saying a word. Her silence worse than anything America had ever heard, including the explosion. "He got hurt?" Astra finally asked, her voice several notes higher than it usually was. Her words trembled, and she was clearly buying herself time with this question, time to process.

"He fell down and hit his head. He's got some scratches, too, but the doctor gave him bandages for those."

"Why?" Astra's high-pitched voice grew louder, less controlled. She was barely holding herself together.

"Some bad guys came." Kenna said, simply.

Astra's tears finally burst out. She looked so tiny, with her legs folded under her, sitting alone on Maxon's side of the bed. She wailed as if she had been the one to hit her head, as if Maxon's injuries were on her own small body.

America and Kenna both opened their arms to her, but she did not move. She folded her little arms across her little tummy and moaned, "W-W-Why?"

Kenna stopped waiting for Astra to move, and crawled over, scooping Astra into her arms and rocking her back and forth. "They were mad at Maxon because Maxon is the King, and the King is responsible for a lot of things." Kenna explained, gently, her mouth right by Astra's ear so that she could be heard over the little girl's cries. "Sometimes things go wrong out there, in the Kingdom, and it's easier to get mad at the King than to sit still and be sad about everything that went wrong. It's hard to understand, baby girl, even for grown ups."

"M-M-M-Mack-"

"He's alright!" Kenna promised. "He's resting up so he can get all better." This wasn't strictly true. Lying comatose in a hospital bed wasn't exactly the same thing as 'resting up' but it certainly sounded convincing when Kenna said it. "And all the bad guys are in jail now. We caught every single one of them, and Uncle Aspen is locking them up and throwing away the key."

"He throwing it away?" Astra asked, through tears, worried about the idea of this.

"So that no one can ever let the bad guys out again." Kenna explained.

"Oh." Astra pressed her little hands to her wet cheeks.

America met Kenna's eyes over Astra's head. Kenna was distressed, heartbroken for her daughter's pain. America waved them both over and Kenna nodded. She lifted Astra up and scooted over, depositing Astra at America's side and then snuggling in, herself.

Astra sat, sandwiched between her mother and her aunt, and she automatically put a hand at the top of America's stomach. That was where the baby's feet were, and after a moment of quiet tears and comforting embraces, Astra gasped.

"That baby kicked me." she announced, an odd giggle cracking right through the middle of a sob. Maxon and America had told her many times that the baby kicked and punched when it wanted to play (so that she understood that the baby wasn't trying to hurt her when it kicked at her).

"I think your baby cousin is worried about you right now." America said, running her fingers through Astra's hair.

"Really?" Astra hiccoughed.

"Yes." America said, softly. "The baby can hear you crying, and knows your voice, so it knows that you're sad."

Astra sniffed loudly and rubbed her eyes, trying to rein in her tears. "I want Mackin."

"I know." America said, aching. "Me, too."

"Let's… make some surprises for him, for when he wakes up." Kenna suggested, with a bracing tone. "Let's fill his room with presents so that he'll be very, very happy when he wakes up from his rest."

Astra lay perfectly still for a moment, still smushed between Kenna and America, and then she announced, "Brownies."

"We should bake him some brownies? Kenna asked.

"Yes." Astra nodded. "He loves those, I remember of Halloween."

"That's a wonderful idea, baby. Maxon will be so happy." Kenna said.

"…Pictures." America added, feeling like Kenna was mothering her, too, and appreciating every moment of it. "Maxon loves pictures. We should take a bunch of pictures so he doesn't feel like he missed a single thing."

"Perfect, Ames." Kenna stroked America's hair, just like America was stroking Astra's hair.

"Toys!" Astra said. "He needs Blinky."

"Your favorite stuffed bear, are you sure?" Kenna asked, amazed.

"Well… just until Mackin feels better." Astra hedged.

"That is very thoughtful, Astra, I'm so proud of you." Kenna pressed a kiss to Astra's head. "You know, I've heard that Maxon is very fond of the gardens. They remind him of his favorite queen." Kenna winked at America. "What if we also brought him some flowers cut from the rosebushes by your special bench?"

"Yes." America leant her head on Kenna's shoulder. "Let's decorate his whole room with flowers and pictures and drawings. Let's keep ourselves very, very busy."

"Well, yeah. That's the idea." Kenna admitted.


Astra did not cry again. She became hyper-focused on the task at hand. She even laughed as she helped Kenna mix the batter for the brownies, while America lined a glass pan with butter from her place sitting on a stool.

Once the brownies were in the oven, while Astra licked the spoon and bowl, Kenna came over and leant close to America. "Any more contractions? Any cramping or pain?"

"No, I think my naps really helped."

"Good. You need to let me know immediately if you feel any pain, okay?"

"I promise."

Kenna pressed a kiss to America's cheek and then went over and stole the spoon from Astra to have a few licks of her own.

Out in the garden, America fumbled with one of Maxon's cameras, struggling to set it up to his exacting specifications, while Astra ran through the ground level of the tree castle and Kenna chased her. America finally got the contraption to cooperate and ended up taking a gorgeous picture of Astra swept up in Kenna's arms, both of them laughing. It would make an excellent Christmas present for James, all framed up.

Kenna took over the camera duties while America perched on the bench and showed Astra how to cut the stems of the roses and avoid the thorns. Astra pointed to the flowers she wanted Maxon to have, and America followed through with a pair of garden scissors. Astra got to cut a few stems herself, while being closely supervised. Afterward, Kenna showed the pictures she'd taken to America, and America nodded. Maxon would love those.

In addition to the hand-crafted signs telling Maxon how much they all loved him, Astra was illustrating a bedtime story for Maxon to read. It was primarily scribbles, but if you squinted and looked at it sideways, the vague outlines of a dragon, a pirate, a princess, and some kind of cat could be vaguely distinguished. America's job was to staple the book together so that it could be read like a "real book".

Astra was growing tired of coloring, and beginning to ask to see Maxon. It didn't matter that he was 'sleeping', she wanted to look him over. Kenna had just managed to convince her that Maxon needed some lotion, and maybe some beauty supplies when America heard the footsteps pounding down the hall.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she made herself breathe steadily as she turned and Gerad appeared, gasping for air, in the doorway.

She braced herself for the words 'He's dead'. For some reason, those were the only words her mind could anticipate. So when Gerad said the words, "He's awake!" at first, they didn't make any sense.

Awake in what way? Awake in the sense of being dead and transcending mortal understandings of time and space? That kind of awake?

Kenna laughed, almost like she could hear America's thoughts, "Ames. Maxon's back."

"He waked up?" Astra asked, appearing from the bathroom with a puffy makeup brush in her hands.

"He woke up." Kenna grinned.

"Yay! Let's go see him!" Astra exclaimed jumping at her mother, forcing Kenna to catch her and lift her up. "Let's bring his presents!"

"Alright. We'll gather everything together and get a maid to help us carry it all. Aunt Ames will go ahead and make sure Maxon is ready for visitors."

"…What?" Astra didn't understand.

"We need to make sure Maxon feels good enough to see us. Remember when you had the stomach bug, and you were too sick to see Kile? Even though you wanted to?"

"Like that?"

"Like that." Kenna nodded, then turned to America. "See you in a minute?"

"Yeah." America smiled. For the first time all day, breathing felt easy. Her chest rose and fell, her stomach growing and shrinking with absolutely no effort. She felt almost light. Almost. She was still heavily, enormously pregnant, after all.

Gerad led America down the hall and they could hear Astra and Kenna celebrating all the way until they got to the stairs.

America smiled down at her brother. "Thanks for getting me."

"Of course. He looked good… I mean, not good, but he remembers everything and stuff. He was asking for you, first thing, but we told him you were resting up. He liked that."

"Was he hurting?" America asked, biting her lip.

"No, it didn't look like it. The doctor gave him medicine, I think."

"Good." America blinked, remembering something Kenna mentioned earlier, "So, what was your time?"

"My time?"

"How fast did you make it from the hospital wing to Kenna's room?"

Gerad grinned, pleased with himself. "Three minutes."

America laughed and wrapped an arm over Gerad's warm shoulders. "That's gotta be a Palace record, kid."


James was coming out of Maxon's room just as Gerad and America arrived. He closed the door behind him before America could peek inside, but America didn't mind. It just meant she was able to focus on thanking her brother-in-law for his unwavering devotion to Maxon over the last twelve hours. She hugged him tightly.

"If you wait here, your wife and daughter will be along shortly. Astra might even share a brownie with you, if you play your cards right."

James laughed, "Alright, good. He's waiting for you in there."

America nodded and took a deep breath. She didn't know why she was nervous, it wasn't as if she was getting ready to go on the Report and demand the abolishment of the caste system live, in front of the entire country, or something. She opened the door and peeked inside.

Maxon was sitting upright, staring out the window. When he heard the door creak open, his eyes flitted to hers and his mouth burst into a smile.

"Hey." his voice was hoarse.

Hey? Hey?

"Hey?" America demanded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "That's all I get after your stupid plan to trap K nearly got you blown up?"

"…Oh, um…" Maxon faltered, "Sorry?" he tried. He hadn't been expecting anger, and neither had she. How could she possibly be angry with him at a time like this? He was alive and awake and K was gone. Everything was perfect.

She peered down at her belly and took a breath, "Hormones…" America mumbled. "I guess nature wants me to discourage this behavior in you so that you won't die and leave me with all of our children to defend from dinosaurs on my own."

Maxon chuckled and opened his arms to her. "Dinosaurs never co-existed with people."

"Great pythons, then." America hurried over and gently laid herself in his arms, pulling her legs up on the bed so that she was lying pressed to his side. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. No pain."

"Gerad told me Dr. Ashlar gave you something."

"That's right." He brushed her hair out of her face. "How about you?"

"I had a couple of contractions, right after the explosion."

"What?" his face grew heavy with concern.

"It's alright, though, it's under control. Dr. Ashlar and one of the nurses helped me through it. I'm fine now."

"Thank God."

America nodded. "You know… you shielded me from a lot of the shrapnel, Maxon. I hardly have a scratch. A jammed shoulder from where Weaver pulled me down and covered me, but other than that, the baby and I are in perfect condition."

"I'm so glad. That makes me so happy to hear." but he winced as he said it, his face grimacing.

"What is it?" America sat up. "What do you need?"

"Bucket." Maxon managed, pointing to a stainless steel bucket that one of the nurses had left by his bedside. America handed it to him just in time for him to heave the contents of his stomach into it.

His hair wasn't long enough to hold up for him, like he did whenever she thew up, so instead she gave him a light neck massage with her cool fingers and she murmured soothing words to him until he was done. She took the bucket to the bathroom and dumped it into the toiled, flushing it away and then rinsing the bucket in the tub.

"Ames," Maxon worried over her as she bent over that bucket, cleaning it out. "Stop, please? Call someone else to do that."

America relented, placing a hand on the small of her back and leaving the bucket to soak in the water it had already collected. "Feeling better?" she asked as she returned to his side.

"Yes. Dr. Ashlar said there might be some nausea with the concussion. I'm sorry, though, that was repulsive." he shuddered at his own behavior.

America chuckled and crawled back into bed with him, handing him a small glass of cool water to sip. "Don't you remember my first trimester? How sick I was until I was given those pills?" she laughed and he smiled, "I remember the very first time I had 'morning sickness'. We were out in the gardens on a picnic, and I was vomiting into the flowers."

Maxon laughed, "I was so confused! I tried patting your shoulder, telling you everything would be fine."

America laughed, too, "And you looked just like a lost little puppy when I snapped at you between heaves to stop pawing at me."

Maxon turned his loving gaze from America's eyes to her stomach. "Thank you… whatever you did to stop the contractions… thank you. What if I'd woken up and you had given birth while I was unconscious? What if I'd missed the birth of my baby, my heir?"

America wasn't surprised at the tears in her eyes as she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. She'd been having the same thoughts for hours, but hearing Maxon speak them aloud, the answer became so simple.

"You'd have fallen madly in love on opening your eyes and finding your baby lying in a crib next to your hospital bed. We'd have moved my bed in here, too, and recovered as a family. Mom, James, Kenna, May, and Gerad would have taken turns holding my hand and cheering me on during contractions… they'd have been spectacular at it. Everything would have been fine. Astra would have come back from her sleepover to find her baby cousin, alive and healthy, and only a few weeks early. She'd have been over the moon about it. They might have had to move a bed in here for her, too."

"She'd have shared mine." Maxon grinned.

"It would have been fine. But, Dr. Ashlar, Nurse Catharine, and Officer Weaver helped me breathe through my panic attack and got my heart rate under control, so the contractions stopped and the baby is safe and sound, growing healthy and strong." she placed his hand on her stomach. "Its heartbeat is a little fast, but Dr. Ashlar isn't worried. As long as I get plenty of rest, everything should go back to normal in a few days."

Maxon returned his eyes to hers and then tilted her chin his direction to allow perfect access to her lips.

It was like coming home, that kiss. Warm, safe, full of love; it was home.

America took a long breath afterward, allowing herself to bask in her husband's presence. He was weak, and he had a recovery ahead of him, but they were together again. That was all that mattered in the world.

"NO, DADDY, I WANT MACKIN!" They heard a scream from out in the hallway, and other voices chastising Astra to stay quiet.

America laughed, "She's been so worried, Maxon."

Maxon looked horrified as it suddenly occurred to him that Astra had heard about his injuries. "God. Is she alright?"

"Fine. Perfectly safe and healthy… she basically tore all of our hearts to tiny shreds with her cries when she found out that you were hurt, but she's spent every minute since then making feel-better presents for you."

"I want to see her."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

"Yeah. How do I look? Will I scare her?"

America ran her hands through her husband's hair a couple of times, mussing it up the way he liked. "You're the handsomest king in the world." America struggled up and hurried over to the hallway.

Astra was on the verge of a tantrum, as James patiently explained why America and Maxon needed some time alone.

"Sorry, Ames." Kenna said. "We're working on it."

"No, Maxon really wants to see her. He's feeling up for a visit."

Kenna nodded, and rested a hand on James' shoulder. "Aunt Ames says that Maxon is all ready now, and thank you for being patient."

"Mackin is all ready?" Astra asked America.

"Yes." America smiled.

Astra ran over and leapt at America, as she had done with Kenna earlier, forcing America to lift her up and hold her or be knocked over.

"Astra, baby, no." James said, "Aunt Ames can't carry you right now. Come here, I'll carry you in—"

"No, Daddy, this is my Aunt Ames!" Astra explained.

"She and the baby need rest, Astra." Kenna tried.

America nodded and kissed Astra's cheek, "Why don't you walk in to see Maxon? You know you'll just try to jump out of my arms and fly to his bed the second I open that door."

Astra giggled. She knew it was true.

America lowered Astra to the floor with some difficulty and then took her hand, "Be extra gentle with Uncle Maxon, okay? He's got some cuts and bruises that are not fun."

"I promise." Astra sobered up immediately. She'd forgotten that, on waking, all of his injuries hadn't been magically healed.

"What are you going to give him first? Drawings or brownies?"

"Brownies." Astra decided, and held her hands up. Kenna handed her the box of brownies, and handed America the drawings. She, herself, carried the vase of flowers and the camera full of adorable pictures.

"Alright, here we go." America said, twisting the doorknob and pushing it open, slowly. Astra bolted into the room.

"Mackin!" she whispered loudly, her version of 'being gentle'.

"Hi, Pumpkin head!" Maxon smiled as she ran around the side of the bed. She tossed the box up onto the bed ahead of her, and then climbed like the monkey she was until she made it up.

"Okay, Mackin?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You got hurt." This wasn't a question, she could see the bandages and a few stitches on his exposed arms. She very carefully traced a shallow cut on his cheekbone.

"Yes, I did. But I'm going to be just fine."

"Did you cry?"

"No, but it's okay to cry when you get hurt." Maxon explained. "I didn't because I fell asleep before the tears came."

"You want to cry now?" she offered, sympathetically.

"Not now! I'm much too happy to see all of you." Maxon grinned.

"Okay." Astra nodded, accepting his words. "You got some shots?"

"Yeah, see?" Maxon showed her the IV in his wrist.

"Ouch!"

"It doesn't hurt, and it gives me good medicine to make me feel all better."

"Good." Astra nodded. Satisfied with the state of his condition, she moved on from her medical inquiry. "Here, I have a present for you." Astra handed him the box.

"For me?"

"Yes, Mommy and me and Aunt Ames made it."

"Okay." Maxon popped the lid open and smiled. "These look delicious!"

America met Maxon's eyes apologetically. He'd just thrown up, after all. He just shook his head, and his eyes told her that he was feeling better.

"We can share." Astra said, holding a brownie up.

"What a wonderful idea." Maxon took the brownie from her and split it in half, giving her the larger half. "Cheers, Pumpkin head." he touched his half to her half.

"Cheers, Mackin." she parroted solemnly, then took a big bite. "We made other presents, too." she smacked through her large bite.

Kenna came over and arranged the flowers, "From your special bench." Kenna winked.

America was now seated on Maxon's other side, having given James the task of sticking the drawings up on the walls with clear tape so that she could get off of her feet. She handed the storybook Astra had drawn to her niece, and received a brownie in thanks. "This is for nap time." Astra explained, holding the homemade book up so he could see the cover. "Do not read it until nap time."

"It's beautiful." Maxon's eyes were wide as he took the stack of papers, stapled together, as if he'd never seen anything so wonderful in his life. "You made me a book?"

"Yes, but do not read it." Astra commanded. "It is for nap time."

"I promise." Maxon reassured her, bringing her in for a forehead kiss. "Thank you, Astra, I love it. I love all of these drawings."

His room was now an explosion of construction paper, stick figures, and scribbles, with a few 'We love you's thrown in the mix.

"We took a few pictures, too." America smiled. "When you get some time, you can look and see what we did this morning before you woke up from your sleep."

Maxon raised his eyebrows, "Yes, that sounds wonderful."

"Yes, we took pictures." Astra nodded, authoritatively. "You will like them."

"I'm sure I will."

"Oh, yes, I forgot!" Astra exclaimed, as Kenna handed her the last few items they'd gathered. A small jar of flower-scented lotion and a makeup brush. "This will make you feel better."

"It will?" Maxon asked, wrapping an arm around America as she laid back beside him.

"Yes, I will show you." Astra wrenched open the jar with a lot of effort and then dabbed some lotion onto Maxon's hands, the way she'd seen Kenna do many, many times. "It feels good?" Astra asked, as she rubbed the lotion into Maxon's hands, careful to avoid the IV.

"So good." Maxon smiled between America and Astra, then around the room as Gerad, James, and Kenna pulled up chairs.

"Smells good, too." Astra promised, forcing one of his hands up to his nose.

"Mmmm." Maxon agreed.

Astra handed the jar and lid to America without explanation, but America presumed she was to close it up. She did so, and set it aside, as Astra picked up the large makeup brush.

"This will feel good, too."

"That?" Maxon asked, surprised.

"Yes. Mommy brushes it on my face sometimes, it feels good."

Maxon was admittedly unfamiliar with many traditionally feminine practices, but three years old seemed a bit young for makeup, to him. "Does she put makeup on your face?" Maxon asked, curiously. Like maybe he'd misunderstood, and all three-year-old girls wore makeup.

"No, just brushing. Feel." Astra gently tickled the soft ends of the brush over Maxon's cheeks.

"That does feel nice." he admitted, surprised. He always wore powder when he was on camera to keep his skin from shining in the bright studio lights, but he'd never stopped to admire the feel of the brushes.

"You have a beard." Astra giggled as she began lightly brushing his chin. She leant forward and brushed her cheek against the stubble, giggling as it tickled and scratched against her soft skin.

"I am a bit rough, aren't I?" Maxon smiled at her, popping a quick kiss to the cheek she had pressed to his. "Maybe you could put some shaving cream on me later, and Aunt Ames could help me shave?"

"Yeah!" Astra jumped a little on the bed, and was instantly reminded by her mother and father to be gentle.

America's stomach growled loudly, which was a surprise. She realized that she hadn't eaten a meal since the sun rose.

Maxon chuckled and pressed a kiss to America's hair. "I think we need to feed the baby first, though."

"That baby wants chicken nuggets." Astra announced.

Everyone laughed. "The baby does, or you do?" Kenna clarified.

"That baby. And tater tots."

America's stomach growled in agreement. "Actually, that sounds delicious. And some cheesy broccoli, maybe?"

"Yumm!" Astra agreed. "And macaroni!"

Maxon laughed, "It seems both of my girls are hungry."

"And craving kid food, apparently." America smiled, sheepishly.

"That's alright, my love." Maxon reassured her. "It all sounds perfect. I say we order a whole trolley from the kitchen, along with apple juice and sparkling water, and have a feast."

"Yay!" Astra squirmed.

"Are you up to a feast right now?" America asked, worriedly.

"I am."

"Maybe you should rest, though—"

"After we eat, we'll all get good, long naps." Maxon reassured her.

"Then shavin… then shaveen…" Astra struggled with her words.

"Then shaving cream." Maxon assisted, and was rewarded with an enormous, toothy smile from his pumpkin head. "Have another brownie while we wait, America." Maxon ordered, handing her a chunk of delicious chocolate. "James, would you take our order to the nearest attendant maid?"

"Happy to." James stood and stretched.

"Feel free to add anything you or Kenna want."

"Extra tater tots!" Astra exclaimed.

America nodded, sincerely. "Yes. Extra tater tots."

James chuckled, "This is going to be a party."

America couldn't help but agree, looking around the room at everything they had to celebrate. K was dead, Maxon was alive, the baby was fine, and they were all together. For the first time in months, her life felt like happily ever after again. Happily ever after, and more.