A/N: I guess I wrote this to try and understand America's interaction with Camille in the Women's Room (in The Heir) when she asks about her mother. Y'know, the one Eadlyn labeled an "obligation". It made me wonder if there was any bad blood between Daphne and America, and when I followed that train of thought it led me here. Tell me what you think!

P.S. It's told in alternating points of view

MAXON

"She's my age?" Eadlyn asked, her eyes bright with excitement. She and her brother didn't get much company around here, besides each other and the Woodwork kids, whom Ahren liked well enough but Eadlyn had taken a distaste to.

"Yes, sweetheart. She's only a year older than you are. Princess Camille is the heir to the throne of France, and her family is coming to the palace to discuss renewing certain trade agreements."

"Ahren, did you hear that? A girl our age is coming here!" Eadlyn's voice squeaked in happy anticipation.

"A girl? No! Girls are gross!" Ahren complained, and I laughed.

"Having fun?" America's voice flitted over to us from across the hall. There she was, exhausted but radiant with beauty, holding Kaden on her hip and smiling.

"Hello, darlings," I said, ruffling Kaden's few wisps of hair gently and kissing America on the cheek. Eadlyn reached her hands up to hold her baby brother, and America happily obliged. The twins were five now, and utterly enamored with their little sibling, who was approaching his first birthday.

Eadlyn situated Kaden in her arms and looked up eagerly at America. "Mommy! Did you know that—"

"Sweetie." I felt bad cutting her off, but I wanted to have this conversation with America alone. I felt bad giving her such short notice, but I wasn't sure how to approach this until now.

"Know what?" America asked, sending a confused glance my way.

"I'll fill you in. For now…" I paused, grateful to see Lucy coming down the hall. I started again, turning towards Ahren and Eadlyn. "For now, Miss Lucy is going to take care of you. Please go with her, children," I said kindly. They didn't need any more convincing. They loved spending time with Lucy, but I was certain she loved it more. She and Aspen were unable to have children, and America and I had offered our help multiple times, but it turned out there was virtually nothing we could do. It still pained America that she couldn't be a surrogate, but there were rules, and she was the queen now; her body was owned in part by the monarchy. I hated it too, but this particular issue was outside of my jurisdiction. Aspen and Lucy wanted a child so badly. And I—the king, of all people!—couldn't get them one.

"Miss Lucy!" Eadlyn cried happily, running over to her. Ahren followed, and America smiled as Lucy embraced our children as her own. She took Kaden from Eadlyn and smiled up at us before leading our kids away.

"They never fail to make me smile," America commented contentedly. Then she turned her attention to me. "What was it you wanted to speak about?"

I pulled her into an empty parlor as nonchalantly as I could, but she could always detect when I was stressed about something. I exhaled. "I'm sorry you aren't getting more notice, but we have visitors coming next week."

America looked surprised. "Visitors? Surely I could be of assistance in preparing for their arrival," she said. I smiled at how much she had changed since becoming the queen. If she was still seventeen, still that girl from the Selection, her response might have sounded more like: "What?! Why didn't you tell me? I could help you!" And she would've found some way to turn it into an argument.

She wasn't seventeen anymore. And she reflected regality like she had been born into it. If only they knew.

"Of course you can, darling. I just, wanted to make sure you were aware of a few things first." I paused again. She waited. "Our visitors will be the French royalty. Queen Daphne, her prince consort Frederick Beaumont, and their little girl, Princess Camille."

America looked lost. "What's the problem, then?"

"You've never met Daphne before. I just, I don't want there to be tension. I'm certain we've put all that behind us now, but I don't know exactly what to expect."

America shook her head. "I can't believe you kept this from me over a silly little thing like that. Please, let me help get things ready. Isn't that what a queen does?" She smirked.

Then she left the room without being dismissed.

AMERICA

I had work to do in preparation for the French monarchy's upcoming arrival. As I made my way to my office, I started thinking. What was Maxon's justification for withholding this rather important information from me? In fact, I hadn't seen any visible preparations being made, or heard it mentioned at any of the meetings. I didn't like that he was keeping this a secret.

I remember Maxon telling me a few years back, during the Selection, about Daphne being in love with him but not returning her feelings. At first I was self-conscious and a little jealous, considering she had no less than everything to offer and I was nothing more than a fifth-caste hopeful with zero connections, zero finesse, and very few people in my corner. But now those insecurities seem laughable to me, especially when I think about how everything turned out. I'm the one with Schreave tacked to the end of my name, and Daphne's in France probably happy living her own life. So, why should her visit be any cause for concern?

Her visit, which was impending, and my paranoid husband had given me anything but ample time to prepare. I knew I had to start somewhere, and there was no time to waste. I decidedly made my way to the palace's lower levels to meet with the interior decorators and florists who collaborated down there, worrying the whole way that Maxon had kept this from me for a bigger reason than I realized.

MAXON

"You've done a wonderful job, darling. The palace looks magnificent," I praised as America smiled proudly at her work. In just the short week she'd managed to pull together the perfect dynamic for hosting the French royals. Having known Daphne all my life, I knew she'd enjoy the warm yet mature effervescence the palace now radiated.

"Thank you, Your Royal Husbandness," She joked. I shook my head and pulled her close to me. She rested a head on my shoulder, and for a split second we were just husband and wife. Not king and queen, only Maxon and America.

Then a butler, Carston, came around the corner to ask for America's final approval on the first dinner, and the moment was broken. Once Carston had his information and left briskly, she looked at me and exhaled. "I have a good feeling about this," she said, and I couldn't help but return her hopeful smile.

AMERICA

On the day they were scheduled to arrive, Eadlyn was bouncing up and down on her toes, probably unaware she was doing it, and Ahren kept whispering something to her that made her giggle. It was times like these when I enjoyed watching my children be children. Not princess and prince, having to appear poised and elegant for the cameras and onlookers, but just being the kids that they were. I regretted every day that I couldn't give them more of a childhood. But this country would be Eadlyn's someday, and it certainly wasn't too early to begin training her. As for Ahren, he wanted to be just like her. Help her shoulder the burden, and be the center of her storm, even at five. I could see it. They were building a bond, a little stronger every day, that nothing could break. As siblings, twins, royals, and friends.

"Mommy, I can't wait any longer! When will they be here?" Eadlyn pleaded for the third time in the last twenty minutes. I would miss her young antics when she matured.

"They'll be here any moment now. Hopefully so will your father," I added the last part a bit sarcastically. Maxon was hardly ever late for things like this.

He rushed in at the last second, and I sensed he needed to regroup. "Are you all right?" I asked. He nodded.

"Of course, darling." He peeked over at our kids. I'd left Kaden with Mary and Paige, since his nanny was taking the week off, and although it pained me to do so, I didn't want to have to worry about his needs on top of the already-stressful job of hosting our guests. I hated being apart from my baby boy. The mother-child bond I had with him was different than the one I had with Ahren and Eadlyn, mainly because when they were his age I was almost always with them both at the same time. They each had the exact same bond with me, but Kaden's is completely unique to him. Still, it was for the best.

Five minutes later, the French royals walked through the door, and the room shifted all attention to them. Queen Daphne de Sauveterre, her husband, the prince consort of France, Frederick Beaumont, and their little girl Camille, who I believed was six. She was a pretty thing, and there was no doubt she took after her mother.

Queen Daphne was stunning. Her golden hair was curled in ringlets and bounced effortlessly over her shoulders. She wore a light rose sleeveless gown with a crystal-embedded bodice and matching silk gloves, inadvertently matching her welcoming decor. And she was, of course, a natural beauty, with bright blue eyes and a winning smile. Her husband looked a kind, sensible man, and he shook Maxon's hand warmly upon meeting him.

Queen Daphne approached me, smiling, and we curtsied simultaneously. Eadlyn immediately ran up to my side, followed by her brother, and Camille gave them both a shy wave.

"Your Majesty, thank you so much for welcoming us into your home," she gushed, her lilting French accent caressing the words and making them sound much more opulent than they were.

"It's our pleasure, Your Majesty. Thank you for receiving our invitation." I knelt down to Camille, offering the timid girl a tension-dispersing smile. "Hello there, dear. You must be Princess Camille." She nodded. "It's lovely to meet you. This is Princess Eadlyn and Prince Ahren."

"Hello!" Eadlyn greeted cheerfully. Camille giggled a little at her bubbling excitement.

"Hi there," Ahren's greeting followed, quieter and more reserved. She seemed to take to his demeanor more, and I saw her body relax a little when she looked at him.

"Queen Daphne, you wouldn't mind if Camille went with the children and their nanny, would you?"

"Not at all," she said. Turning to Camille, she said in a ladylike whisper, "Allez avec le prince et la princesse maintenant, chérie. Je vous verrai plus tard." I was fluent in French, so I knew she was instructing her daughter to accompany Eadlyn and Ahren, although Camille looked nervous.

Ahren offered a kind smile, and Eadlyn gave a bouncing gesture for her to follow them. Camille seemed a little more at ease now, and she skipped off with my kids. Maxon came over to me and Daphne and smiled like a giddy child.

"Your Majesty!" She cried happily, giving him a huge hug.

Maxon let her go, and brushed his title off with a wave of his hand. "Such formalities aren't necessary when we're alone, Daphne," he insisted.

"Well then, Maxon, I'm happy to see you." She gave him another quick hug. I couldn't help but smile at the childhood friends reunited. Daphne's husband came over to me, and I shook his hand.

Maxon straightened up. "America, dear, could you take Daphne to the Women's Room for some tea?"

I was a bit surprised he wanted me to host the reigning monarch of France alone. I was yet to show my intimate hospitality skills as queen. "Of course," I replied. "Please, come this way," I said to Daphne.

We walked down the hall to the Women's Room and Daphne seated herself on the couch, while I chose a chair. "It's so cute, the way he calls you 'dear,'" she remarked, although something about her tone didn't feel as genuine as it did before.

I chose to gracefully laugh it off. "Believe it or not, when we first met, I couldn't stand the nickname. Now that I'm the only one he calls dear, I don't mind it so much."

The maid I'd stopped in the hallway came in with our tea and left silently. Daphne picked up her cup and sipped. "Your love is truly one-in-a-million," she commented.

"I would agree," I said.

"I guess it's true what they say. When you're in love with two people at the same time, choosing the second is always for the best. You wouldn't love them if you already loved the first," she said, her pretty blue eyes boring into me, as if she wanted to burn a hole right through me.

I was caught off-guard. But I was the queen, I was the host, and damn it, I'd be kind and gracious to her no matter how passive-aggressive I felt she was being. "I don't catch your meaning," I said lightly.

"Maxon knew love before the Selection, with me, but he chose to give it up." She threw her hands in the air and then dropped them, her tone surprised. "And then he found you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is only the truth, dear America." This time, she didn't sound angry or mean, or even passive-aggressive. She sounded disappointed, like she'd lost the Selection too. Although the emphasis on dear pleaded otherwise. "I was the first, and you were the second. He was forced into the Selection for the sake of tradition, and we have been kept apart to this day. He settled for you."

My eyes were wide, and I felt my old instinctual rage bubbling up inside of me. How would a queen take this? "You're still holding onto that? Aren't you happily married, with a daughter?"

"Yes, but I am not in love. I have not been in love since Maxon, and seeing him made me remember what we used to be."

"Daphne, that was a long time ago, surely you're both changed people now—"

She cut me off. "But in you came, the sob story Five with a chance at something better, and a temper that could ignite all of Illéa on fire. Yet his people still rallied behind you, and here you are today, on the throne that should have been mine."

I gasped. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Queen Daphne, you're speaking obscenities! Are you unwell?"

"Save the good-toward-all act. I'm through. I'm here to discuss renewing our trade agreement, and then I'm leaving, so you and Maxon can go back to living your perfect fairytale lie." She tipped her head back and swallowed the rest of her tea in one gulp, like it was shot of alcohol. I was starting to feel scared. What was the matter with her?

"Daphne, I don't believe you really feel like this. And I certainly won't be treated this disrespectfully in my own home, queen of France or not."

"That's splendid, then, because I am leaving." She picked up her dress and walked out of the room without another word.

I was left shook, with a lot of questions I thought I'd had the answers to before now.

"I'm so sorry, darling. I can't believe she said those things to you," Maxon said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Queen Daphne's words were still ringing around in my mind, and as hard as I tried to forget them, they were there to stay. "I really wanted her to like me," I said quietly. I felt 17-year-old America rise up inside me, the scrubby Five turned nation symbol of hope and equality, who once compared herself to a young French princess and thought, I have nothing and she has it all. Good riddance to this mess. Instead of a mess, though, the Selection turned out better than I'd ever imagined, and now here I was remembering when none of this, nothing remotely close to this life, seemed possible.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to have a talk with her. No one treats my wife like that," Maxon said, a bit too darkly for my comfort.

"No! No, I don't want her to know I told you. The woman is clearly unstable, and our objective now is to take care of business and then send her home as soon as possible. Without causing any more trouble," I noted, and Maxon seemed to understand this. He nodded.

"Very well then. I do hope Princess Camille is playing alright with the twins."

Not two seconds after he'd uttered the words, I heard a delighted shriek in the hallway, and peeked my head out the double doors of our suite to see a pink tulle-clad blur with golden blonde curls sprint by, giggling panicked and thrilled. Following closely behind was a flash of gray tweed suit and baby blue satin, also crowing with glee. A bit behind those two was Lucy, panting and red-cheeked, but keeping up smoothly with the three darting children. She spotted me watching the circus and stopped.

"America I'm so sorry, I took my eyes off them for one second and they were—"

I open my mouth to tell her not to worry, that we're all alone on this floor anyway, but what comes out is a short, unflattering chuckle, that turns into a full blown laughing fit, until I myself feel as out of breath as she does for all the opposite reasons.

"Oh, it's fine Lucy. In fact it's good to let them play. They don't get to do this often." My tone turns melancholy. "There's always so much expected of them. They're not like other kids, after all."

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Camille chase each other in circles in the large, carpeted empty space that occupies the third floor of the palace, crying out with joy the whole time, a gleam in their eyes seldom held by young royals like themselves. The way Maxon and I were just us when we shared that moment in the foyer earlier this morning, that's how they are now.

In this moment, Eadlyn and Camille are not direct heiresses to the thrones of their countries, Ahren isn't a prince living in the shadow of his sister, hosting a young foreign dignitary.

They're just kids. And after the endless days of good behavior and proper manners, uncomfortable dress shoes and itchy hairdos, in order for the public to keep a good image of the monarchy, they deserve this. To have nothing expected of them at all.

I caught the look in Lucy's eyes as she watched them play. There was unmistakable pain there; all she wanted was one of her own. I felt that familiar heartbreak resurface, knowing I was the queen and I could never give her the one thing she wanted. And Aspen, too, for that matter. No matter what form our relationship had taken, it had always been true that seeing him in pain hurt me deeply. And this was as hard as it had ever been. Those unbreakable ties to Aspen felt his pain as though it was my own.

I didn't want to think about such sad things, so I lifted my chin and refocused on my own children. How grateful I was to have them. I'd told Lucy that she could always think of them as her own, if she wanted to. And I meant that.

"Mommy!" A breathless Eadlyn cried, appearing at my side and clinging tightly to my leg. "I'm hungry! Is it time for lunch yet?"

I smiled, petting her hair. "Just about, darling." I turned to Maxon. "Should we go down now?"

He smiled back, a bit more reserved, and I could see the apprehension in his eyes about seeing Daphne after what I'd told to him. Still, he conceded. "I think so. Come, children," he called, natural authority filling his voice without sounding overbearing or scary. Even I wanted to follow him. And I did, down the hall, holding a proud smile in my heart.

MAXON

Lunch was quite awkward, considering what I now knew about the tension between Daphne and America, yet I didn't want to disrupt what our children had built with each other. We'd spent hours and hours going over and renewing our trade agreements, and America and I had been so consumed with the task that I hadn't taken a chance to personally acknowledge the frigidity between her and Daphne. The French queen made it clear throughout the meeting that while I was welcome in her life and her country, she wanted nothing to do with my wife. The literal cold shoulders she tossed at America all throughout the meeting had me on the verge of throttling her. But the thoughts of violence left my mind as soon I reminded myself that that's exactly what my father would have done. And I was better than him. I had to be.

I watched America gently shush an overexcited Eadlyn. Her voice had risen just above the level it should at the table, as she explained something to Camille animatedly. Camille smiled joyously as Eadlyn prattled on, but the way she was positioned in her seat, closer to my son, suggested a subconscious preference for Ahren. He always was less overwhelming than his sister. Eadlyn's personality was much like America's when I first met her. Captivating, with a slight hint of unpredictability.

Ahren's was like my mother. Calm and steady, but welcoming and attentive. Although Eadlyn bore striking resemblance to her, I never failed to notice the little things Ahren said or did from day to day that mirrored my mother in every way.

"Maxon? Are you all right?" A quiet voice asked from my left. I turned and saw Marlee watching me with concern in her eyes. I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts.

"Quite so, Marlee. It's just this visit from the queen of France. It's got my head wrapped up in it, so many laws and regulations. You know, the boring stuff I just can't seem to put to rest."

She smiled slightly, glad to know that I was okay. That was Marlee, an empath and a true friend. "Of course. Just checking."

I nodded and glanced back over to my wife. She was spooning some more pasta Alfredo into her mouth—even after all these years she never did take a single meal here for granted—and eyeing Queen Daphne curiously. I glanced in her direction and immediately wished I had stayed in my ignorance.

Daphne looked rather sour at the other end of the table, twirling her fork around her pasta with a scowl on her face, and clutching a mostly empty glass of wine tightly in her other hand that was certainly not her first. After a while she finally came back to reality with the rest of us, and I saw her smile a bit unsettlingly at me across the table.

"Maxon, my dear friend, enlighten me. How has married life been? I think you and America tied the knot just a few months after Frederick and I, isn't that right?" In a rather unnatural gesture, she reached for her husband's hand and grasped it in her own. The look on his face suggested he was being used as a prop of sorts, and his wife's supposed gesture of affection was meant as some kind of signal to me, and possibly America as well. The whole conversation felt like it had an ulterior purpose on Daphne's end.

"Um…yes, it was early September, I believe, wasn't it darling?" I asked, begging America with my eyes to turn the conversation around somehow. An expert in our nonverbal communication, she caught it right away; as it was the queenly thing to do, she took matters into her own hands.

"September fourth. I can't believe you forgot, Maxon!" She scolded playfully, and an obligatory laugh raised from the table. I shrugged as if to say, "Whoops, looks like I'm in trouble!", when I heard Daphne's cutting guffaws rising above the rest of the laughter.

"Mmm, how lovely. I always wanted a fall wedding. Guess I would've gotten one if I'd been where you are, America!" Everyone's eyes went wide at the candor in the French queen's words, and while I wasn't quite sure if that was the wine talking or the long-buried spite, it was highly inappropriate for someone of her status either way.

"Maybe you ought to go lie down, ma chérie," Prince Frederick said gently to his wife. She shot him a condescending glare, and he retreated slightly in his seat.

"Don't be too disappointed, Daphne. It was that time of year between summer and fall where the weather doesn't really feel like either, you know? And it was indoors, so you wouldn't have even noticed."

Anyone else might've thought America was being genuine. But I knew her better. And that temper she held onto so tightly now as the queen was threatening to spill out all over this table, and I knew from personal experience there was nothing that could stop America when she was angry.

Daphne folded her hands passive-aggressively. "In that case, pardon me." The bittersweet words dripped from her lips as she stared at America with a look I remember Celeste used to give the other girls early in the Selection. Like if there weren't any witnesses, it would be their time.

I had no desire to continue to sit through this, so I stood up and leaned against the table with my hands. "Dear guests, if you'll excuse me, my wife and I have some business to attend to. Darling?" I invited America to escape this nightmare dinner with me using nothing more than my eyes. She smiled gratefully and rose as well.

"Of course. Ahren, Eadlyn, go with Miss Marlee. Daphne, would you be comfortable if Camille went with them?" America asked.

The queen frowned as she stared into her wine glass. "I think we'll take Camille and return to our quarters for the afternoon. Thank you again, Your Majesties, for hosting us." There was nothing genuine in her tone. I watched as she beckoned her daughter to come with her, and Camille glanced over her shoulder at Ahren rather sadly as she trailed after her mother. Ahren, too, didn't look particularly happy to see her go.

Eadlyn seemed to be innocently stunned, watching the French queen stalk off with her husband and daughter in tow, both of them equally frightened, and it was something she probably couldn't understand.

Overall, however, I had to be the most crushed. Daphne was my only friend for so much of my childhood, and to see her so unhappy and so spiteful of my wife hurt me deeply. It was also bad for our alliance with France, which at this point was at risk of collapsing. At least we'd reached a concurrence of operations in the earlier meeting. That contract was the only thing holding these two countries together now.

Because I was no longer friends with the queen of France. The Daphne de Sauveterre I'd cared for so dearly was gone.

A/N: I feel kinda bad for villainizing Daphne like this, but the more I wrote the more sense it made. What if approving Ahren and Camille's marriage in secret was the French queen's way of getting revenge on Maxon and America? In her eyes, they had it all, but Ahren was something she had the power to take away from them, and she knew it would hurt if she did. Does that make any sense? Maybe I'm reading too far into it, lol. Reviews always appreciated!