A/N: Hello Readers! Another 3-week delay in between chapters. I know it's painful to wait, but hopefully, after each chapter, it's worth it.

Some general updates: This story doesn't contain the end of their fighting yet. I know you want it to end, but I have one or two more chapters full of agony before the bliss that you all are craving at this point. I am working on the latest suggestion for BDSM. My research on safe/consensual BDSM is going ok, so it will be making an appearance soon, just not in this chapter. I will let you know in the update of the chapter that contains BDSM for a content warning/notification.

As always, if you like what you read in this chapter, please consider following or favoriting the story for me. It always leads me in the right direction seeing my email pop up with your guy's notification. If you have any suggestions for me, leave them as a review and I promise I will consider them. Anything you suggest will add some chapters to this story and will most definitely be seen later in new chapters as long as they are there for me to see.

Without further ado: Chapter 30 from Maxon's POV!

*Maxon's Pov*

**THE FIGHT**

Rage filled my veins more than blood ever could. I was pissed. I was beyond pissed and here she was getting up and getting dressed. She was trying to leave and I couldn't let her leave. I couldn't let her go until I knew we were okay. I needed to know what her plan was before she walked out on me and left me like everyone else.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed." She informs me as articles of clothing make their way onto her perfect body.

"Why?"

"Because I need to cool off and you need to cool off. We need a minute apart. You are angry and I don't want to see you angry because when you are angry you are your father. So talk to me when you aren't upset with my existence and my 'denceness' and when I'm not 'in my head' like you obviously are! Maybe you can talk to me when I lose this 'selfish bitch' part of me when I'm not even the one who came!"

If I hadn't lost my shit already then this is what's going to do it for me. "Don't fucking use my words against me! You don't leave until we figure this out!"

I grab her wrist, I want her to stay. I need her to stay so we can figure this out. She shakes herself free from me, but she can't leave until I know that we are okay. She finishes getting dressed as she talks to me. "We need a minute apart, Maxon. So don't touch me and let me walk out."

I grab her wrist again. I need her to stay. She screams, "Don't touch me! Let me go!"

She struggles to get free. I need her to stay, so I hold on tighter. She struggles for a little bit. The entire time she is telling me to let go of her. She does get her wrist free. "I'll see you at dinner, or maybe you won't."

"Don't fucking leave while I'm trying to talk to you, America."

She grabs her white heels and rushes out of our room. I call after her. "America! America!"

It's too door is already closed. She's already out of our room and into the hallway. What am I supposed to do now?

"God damn it!" I sit down on our bed and run my hands through my hair. Did we just fight? Are we fighting right now? What did we just do? No... What the hell did I just do? Shit. I gotta figure this out. I need to talk to someone. Someone who knows both me and America really well. There is only one person who knows her and me that way. Aspen Leger. America's old boyfriend from Carolina obviously knows her enough, and we became sort of good friends during the engagement process. I sigh and throw on some pants and haphazardly get my dress shirt figured out, not even bothering to tuck in. I peer outside the door to make sure I don't see America. I don't. A part of me wonders where she went. Maybe she went to Marlee or maybe she's only one door down from me. Either way, I'm happy she's not out here now. I don't know what would happen if I saw her now. I don't even want to think about how much shit would go wrong if I saw her now.

I fully exit my room, disheveled at best. Time to roam the halls till I find the most trustworthy guard in the palace, Officer Leger. I start walking towards the stairs. I know for a fact that he wouldn't be near America when she's upset. He's not stupid and he knows that she will tear him to shreds just because she's pissed off. I see someone by the stairs as I approach. I can tell just based on the posture of the guard that it is who I need.

"Officer Leger."

He turns to see who called him. When he recognizes it's me, he bows. "Your Majesty. How can I assist you today?"

"I need you to come with me. Right now." I tell him, sounding desperate.

He nods. "Of course Your Majesty. Whatever you need. Office Whitman, please watch for me."

I start to walk and he follows me. He doesn't question what I need or why it has to be him. He just follows me. To be fair, it is his job, but still. I open the door and he walks into the bedroom. Most guards don't ever enter the private quarters, but every once in a while, they will. This will be his first, and maybe his last. That depends on how things with America and I turn out after this.

I turn and face him. He looks at me confused, "Are you alright Your Majesty?"

"For the moment, I need you to just call me Maxon, please. This will make it easier for me, please."

"Alright Maxon. Are you okay?"

"No." I sigh and rub my eyes. "America and I are fighting."

"What did you do?"

"Me?!"

"Mind my words here, King Maxon, but America doesn't fight over stupid shit. She loves you too much to fight with you over anything, let alone stupid shit. Especially since I heard from Lucy that you two were going on a date today. So, unfortunately, yes. What did you do?"

"We were- wait. Promise me that you won't tell anyone. Not America. Not Lucy. No one."

"This is confidential. I promise. What happened?"

"Okay, well, we were having sex and when we were done I had done my orgasm and she didn't. I got pissed because she said it was no big deal and was coddling me like a toddler. We yelled and she kept trying to take the blame but I insisted it was my problem because I promised her on our wedding night that she would be happy and fulfilled every time. Then there was name calling. I called her dense. She called me shallow. I called her selfish. She got up and started to leave. I told her to stay. We needed to figure it out, you know. I tried to pull her back… she got away. What should I do?"

"Well, first off, you never tell me about you and her having sex again."

"Aspen." I groan.

"Sorry. For real, you need to talk to her and apologize. She is obviously pissed."

"Well no shit. I was just gonna let her be pissed at me till the end of time." I roll my eyes. Thinking about my wife being mad at me makes my heart ache. I feel my eyes tear up. "I can't have her mad at me, Aspen. She's what keeps me sane." He sighs and throws an arm over my shoulder to comfort me. I cry. "I love her so much. I don't want her mad at me."

"My advice: give her the space she wants. She walked out for a reason, right? So let her have a moment to talk to someone and relax. She will talk to you when she's ready. She probably just needs to figure out what to do next. She probably feels like this is her fault, just like you. So give her space, until she comes to you. When she's ready to talk things out, apologize. Tell her that you shouldn't have called her selfishand that you didn't mean to make her upset over… her not orgasming…, and that you just want her to be happy."

I nod. After a moment, I thanked him. "Thank you, Officer Leger. You are dismissed."

He walks to the door, and bows. Before he exits, he says, "Everything will work out. America loves you too much to be mad forever."

Then the door is being latched shut. I sigh, falling back onto our bed. We are fighting, and I feel like it's my fault. I start to cry. I hate crying, but being without my other half is worth the tears and anger I feel. She is worth it all to me. She is worth it...

At about 3:00 o'clock, I had been crying over my wife and I's moment apart for an hour. I was so angry that I let myself get mad. I was mad that I grabbed her and tried to pull her back. I bet her wrist hurt because of me. I was mad that I even yelled at her, yelled like it was her fault. I was mad that I acted like my father and not like my mother, channeling the anger of Clarkson instead of the cool of Amberly. I was mad because I let the worst part of me out on her, the part of me that even I feared. I just had to let myself be mad at this moment, with no one to direct this anger at. So I did. It led to crying, which made me feel weak and made me feel mad. The cycle just kept repeating. Nonetheless, I had to get up. I couldn't sit here in my sorrow when there was still a country to run. I still had work to do. I needed to go take a walk, better my thoughts, like I used to do pre-selection… pre-America. So I finished getting redressed. I throw on my discarded suit jacket and my shoes. I try to fix my hair, it looks terrible, but it's going to have to be okay. Mostly put together, I decide I can exit my room.

I close the door and adjust the cufflinks. I hear someone stop abruptly in the hallway as I start to walk away from my room. I peer up and see who stopped. America. Shit. I stop dead in my tracks. I look at her, but avoid eye contact. Her hair is disheveled, still thrown up in the messy bun. It looks worse than it did earlier, though. It doesn't matter to me because she still looks beautiful no matter what. I see her lips are slightly more pink than normal. I bet that she was subconsciously biting them as she was talking with Marlee who is still walking towards our offices and America's room. I looked at America's eyes. They were the same shade of blue with the same dense lashes from the day I met her. She looked just like she did the moment I fell in love. It hurt so bad to see her. Then, we lock eyes. For a second before she ducked her head, I saw her broken inside. I could tell that she was crying earlier and that she is currently hurting inside. I can tell she wants to run, either away or to me. I hope it's the latter. I break a little inside seeing the hurt that I caused her. Seeing the hurt that only I could see.

"America." Marlee gets her attention. Her head snaps to Marlee who waits 10 feet ahead of me. Marlee sighs as if what she is about to say is obvious to one of the two parties in front of her, "Let's go. We still have a lot of planning to do."

My curiosity peaks for just a moment. Planning for what? I don't bother questioning it. It's probably a lie to get America to snap out of whatever she's thinking and continue to walk with Marlee. I watch America. She nods then her eyes droop back down to her feet. I watch her the entire time as she begins to scurry over to Marlee.

"America..." I whisper to her as she passes me.

She looks at me. I start to break down inside, something she can see without problems. She battles internally for a moment before speaking. With a sad voice, one filled with emotion and on the verge of tears she tells me: "I'll see you at dinner."

And she walks on. I continued to watch her. Marlee wrapped her arm around her shoulders. She looked back at me, glaring. I had no response as a tear fell from my eye. Marlee didn't notice, or if she did notice she didn't seem affected by it. She just opened the door and America walked in. The door closed and locked. I stood in the hallway to compose myself. Wiping away pathetic tears that were falling from my eyes I took another moment and just before I walked away, I could hear America sob out, "Why does it hurt so much if it's right?"

I caused her so much pain. I want to run into her office, embrace her soft body, and fix this mess that I created, but she doesn't want to talk to me. Or maybe she does, but she can't right now. I have to go. I can't stand here and think about her. I need to go for a walk or something. I need to distract myself until dinner. I walk off, into the hallway and away from her. I don't know where to go. Every place in the palace is flooded with her sweet vanilla scent and her image doing mundane tasks. From the parlors on the fourth floor where we climb to dance to the basement where we film The Report every week. I can picture her walking around with papers in her hands, or with her shoes in her hands as she comes from the garden, or holding onto May's hand as she leads her to her new room for the first time. I can see her holding flowers or a glass of wine. I can see her humming as she explores her home more and more. I can see her everywhere. All of my home- our home- is filled with her image. It's all filled with America.

I decided to go out to the garden. Maybe I can gain closure while sitting on the bench- our bench. I sigh. Who am I kidding? The garden is America's; It would be a waste to go there especially if I don't want to think about her right now. I can not escape her, but do I really want to? The answer, of course, is no. I am so grateful that I feel her in every room because that means that she is here and that means she is mine. It means she is home with me. That's all I wanted for the longest time; I wanted her to be here with me in our home. Maybe I just need to be around her essence. So, maybe the garden is a good place to go. That's where I'll start. I'll see where it takes me.

I ended up on the roof where we danced in the rain twice before. Being in her garden on our bench made me think of all of the memories I share with her. Our first meeting to our first date. Our first date to her favorite date we ever went on together. Dancing in the rain on the roof… I wanted to be there. So, without her I went up. It hurt and made me start to cry. Imagine, a rather strong man in tears while slow dancing with a figment of his imagination. All he wants is to be with the one whom he hurt, but he can't. It's truly a pitiful sight. But it wasted enough time till I had to leave to go to dinner. So by the time I was done sobbing, it was time to head down for dinner.

As I left the roof and started to lock everything up I let my mind wander. Questions flooded my mind. How will dinner go? Would America even be at dinner when I arrived? Would she skip out because I would be there? Would she ignore me the entire meal? Would she be late, tears still swelling in her icy eyes, threatening to spill down her rosy cheeks as she entered 20 minutes later? Would she leave early? Would she leave without any words? Would she be late and leave early? Would I only see her for a little bit before she left? Would she stop in to grab food and then leave? Would I eat next to an empty chair tonight? Would a maid get her food if she didn't show up? Would someone take care of her for me since I couldn't be with her? Would some make sure she eats if she doesn't show up to dinner? I promised her that she would never go hungry, so she has to eat. I need to make sure she eats some food if she doesn't come to dinner. The thought of her stomach aching because she hadn't eaten and refused to sit with me makes me feel sick.

It hurt thinking about the last few of those. Thinking of her not by me, not eating in the same room. It hurt, but then again, maybe I deserved it. I hurt her by yelling, so I deserve it.

I went downstairs and into the dining hall. Maids and butlers were bringing out food as I arrived. They bowed or curtsied and continued to bring platters and plates out full of food for us. After about a minute or two more, they were done. I looked at my watch. 5:30 on the dot. I look up and wait for my wife. A second later, she enters with Marlee and Carter.

I see her tense up and falter for just a moment before she continues to come in. I stood up to get her chair for her. America seems thrown off by my gesture, but I know it's because we are currently fighting. She sits down. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I tell her. It takes all of my willpower to not kiss her head before deciding to sit down at the head of the table. It feels wrong to leave her without showing her some basic affection, even though she doesn't prefer it and it makes her cheeks flood with red, but her face being flushed to the adorable rosy color that it normally comes to is far better than it being white like a sheet as it is now.

Carter gets Marlee's chair and she sits, looking to America. Concern laces her eyes. America just forces a smile.

America serves herself. She gets her fresh cooked salmon and her green beans without problems. I watch her get the corn onto her plate and then place the spoon for the corn down as a tear begins to form in her eye. She sighs and looks down. "Excuse me."

She stands up and rushes out as Marlee quickly follows after her. I put my fork down and shove my plate into the middle. My head rests in my hands. Carter must be so confused since he is fully out of the loop, at least that I know of.

I wait to hear something that indicates that they are coming back. Nothing happens for a little bit. There is no sound from me or Carter. There is no door creaking open. There is no click of heels. There are no sniffles or anything. It's silent. Then, the door opens. My head pops up to see who entered. America and Marlee. Thank God. My wife looks like she just cried, which honestly doesn't shock me. She looks like she needs support. Marlee walks her all the way to her chair before making her way around the table. America stands by her chair. I look up at her. She looks straight at Marlee and nods before turning her head down to me with saddened eyes. "We need to talk, Maxon."

"Of course."

"Sir and Lady Woodwork, please exit. Maids will be bringing your plate to the Women's Room where you will continue your meal uninterrupted. My apologies for the sudden change of plans, but this is extremely important. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you later to make up for this abrupt change."

"We understand. There is no need to make up for anything. You guys talk. Let me know if you need anything." Marlee says. She stands up and practically yanks on Carter's arm to get him up and out faster.

When they leave, America takes her seat. She turns her chair towards the head of the table and then stands up to yank my chair out to be directly in front of hers. She sits and grabs my hands.

"We need to talk, and I'm going to talk first. Then you can comment on what I said then talk. We need this, so please try this with me."

"Of course."

She fidgets with my hands, looking down at our fingers laced together before looking deep into my eyes. "I love you so much. I really do. What we did was fight. We fought. I was okay with disagreeing. I truly was. But you attacked me by calling me selfish. You attacked me by calling me dense. When I wanted out, for the better of both of us, you grabbed me and pulled me back in. Look at my wrist Maxon. They are bruised from when you pulled me and from where you grabbed at me. That crossed the line. That was your father. I know that is a low jab. I know that me telling you how you acted will jar you for a moment. But, My dear Maxon, I know that telling you that you were acting like Clarkson will ground you and remind you of who you are and who I am. What you did in that room was your father. But I didn't marry Clarkson. I married you. I married Maxon Calix Schreave, not Clarkson Schreave. So, I need you to channel Amberly Schreave, not him. With all of that being said, I request that I sleep in the Queen's Suite just for tonight. I will feel more comfortable that way until tomorrow when we can talk again and figure this out further."

I start to cry. I fucked this up so much. "I love you America. You are my entire world. I don't want to lose you which is why I pulled you back. It didn't hit me until after you left that I probably hurt you. For that, I am sorry. What I said about you being selfish and dense was wrong. I said all of that in a fit of rage. Just like how you called me shallow. I know that you were just usept. I respect your decision, but I want to fix what I broke, America. So, if you give me that opportunity, I would like to take it."

"I want to give you that." She fidgets with my ring on my finger. "I want you to make this right. How would you like to make this up to me?"

"This all started because you didn't have an orgasm, so let me make you come. Let me make it up to you."

She sighs, "We can have sex once. You get one hour, two at most, to make it up to me and fix this. But I still want to sleep in the Queen's suit."

"Is there any chance that you'll change your mind afterwards?"

She looks down again. Her fingers tense into me. "I want to say yes. My heart says yes, but I know better. You still hurt me, and you can't fix that. You can't fix bruises. I wish you could, Maxon. But for the sake of me and you, we need one night. This is gonna hurt like hell for us. Trust me Maxon, I know. This is gonna hurt but it's so you know that you can't push me around. I might be below you, but you can't treat me like that."

I nod. I respect her decision, of course, but I still need her. I pause, trying to hold myself together. "I… I respect that. I understand that. Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Let's finish eating then we can go upstairs together."

"Alright. Whatever you want, America." I tell her. I will do whatever she wants if it means I get another shot at getting her back to me. I love her that much.