Okay, so, chapters taking place early in their relationship was a requested idea like the wonderful person I am, I will provide you some really cute fluff I had planned to publish another time.

Note: I am underaged to be doing anything, if not everything that is mentioned in this chapter so yea. Also, I have more of an explanation at the end since I don't want to spoil anything.


Photo #47: A Little Tipsy, My Dear?

Eadlyn knows that as royal figures, they have reputations to handle and a public image to maintain. At all times, they must be and act as proper as possible for the cameras because one tiny flaw will be spoken about for the years to come. Well, the reporter's cameras at least. Her father's camera, on the other hand, is granted unlimited access into the lives of the royals - flaws and all.

Eadlyn has lost track of how many times she's said this but this is the youngest she has seen her mother in any of these pictures. Her skin is as bright as the sun and her hair as freshly picked strawberries - both desirable. However, something about her mother seems more off than usual. She seems kind of droopy but intriguing all at the same time as she looks at the bracelet that's slid down her raised arm. Eadlyn has an idea of what might be going on and since her mother is still so young, her guess is more likely to be the right one.

Eadlyn loves a good glass of wine once in a while but she thinks her mother had one too many during the time that photo was taken.

-o-

Right after the rebel attacks that took away Maxon's parents, he had to take control of the kingdom right away and calm the people down from the sudden chaos; all while healing from a bullet wound himself. Luckily, he had America by his side as his fiancé and she helped him with all the heavy lifting - metaphorically and literally. It took a while to return Illéa close to the way it was before (since it would be nearly impossible for Illéa to be the same after the sudden assassination of their former rulers, especially for him since they were his parents); but when everything was in the clear, Maxon and America finally got married and became the new King and Queen of Illéa.

Illéa was left in the hands of royal officials in order for the young newlyweds to celebrate their honeymoon. They decided to go to some islands located just south of the country who weren't that informed about Illéa so they wouldn't be recognized. It was quiet, which was good considering the loudness they had back home, but silence doesn't always mean there isn't a party.

And sometimes the partying went too far.

Hours after a night out, Maxon finds his partying wife making her way out of the bar late at night. He smiles as she sways around to the fading beat from the music with her head down, bobbing from side-to-side with her arms in the air. The bracelet Maxon got her slides down her wrist and she tries to roll it up and keep it there but it just falls back down to the crook of her elbow.

"Why...won't you stay up?" America asks her bracelet, a bit frustrated as she constantly tries to get it back to her wrist.

Maxon snickers as he takes a picture of his beautiful (and obviously drunk) wife. He causally makes his way over to her.

"A little tipsy, my dear?" He asks out of curtesy, lowering her arms. Her bracelet rolls back down. "See? Now, your bracelet is actually on your wrist."

America looks at him with her head still swaying but tilted a little. All in all, she blinks in confusion at him.

"First off," America starts, pointing a finger at him. She sounds determined, with her feet firmly planted on the ground, but her slightly slurred voice says otherwise. "I am not your dear. And secondly, I am more than just a little tipsy."

"You can say that again," Maxon mutters under his breath.

"And secondly, I am more than just a little tipsy."

Maxon doesn't respond since he didn't expect her to actually say that again. If only he knew what to do with a drunk person...

"Well," Maxon says, trying to figure out what to do with his drunk wife. "Should we head back to our hotel?"

"We?" America says, stretching that words for another ten seconds. It almost sounded as if she was saying yes in French. "Who's we? I'm married."

Maxon steps back a bit in confusion as America flashes her engagement ring and matching wedding band. It takes Maxon a second to figure out that his wife is so drunk that she doesn't even know who he is. (He never knew that to be a side-effect). He decides to play along, taking the role of handsome stranger.

"Does this husband of yours treat you like a princess?" Maxon says, taking her arm and walking her back to the hotel.

As they walk, Maxon enjoys the evening sky on the islands as the cool breeze passed by them. Their walks are slower than usual but he's surprised she's still on her feet as a drunk.

"I am more than a princess," America replies. She leans up closer to his ear to whisper, "I am his queen."

Maxon fakes a surprised gasp America quickly shushes him, wrapping her hands around his. Maxon nods his head, quieting down even though he just wants to burst out laughing.

"You're a queen?" Maxon asks, almost as if that's a forbidden question.

America nods excitedly, giggling a little. Her red hair blends in with the sunset which contrasts against her bright blue eyes.

"I'm a queen," America states giddily. "I love it - Queen America of Illéa. Bow down to me."

Maxon smiles. He looks at America and sees that she's looking at him expectant. America nods her head and does a quick gesture until he gets the message. Maxon doesn't hesitate but to bow to her as if he's a subject, keeping her hand in his. America beams in pride.

"Now," America says, her free drunk hand tapping his nose. "Tell me, where is your queen?"

Maxon pauses, not sure how to respond to that. He takes a deep breath and sees America anticipating his answer from his peripheral vision.

"Her mind is elsewhere but her heart is close by," Maxon replies, speaking about the drunk woman on his arm who has no idea who he truly is.

"I feel like throwing up." Is America's response.

"Well, that's quite rude."

"No, no, not because of that. What you said is better than whatever poet could muster down with all the inspiration possible. You're a sap, a real sap, but your queen is lucky to have the sweetness that you are in this bitter world."

Maxon looks down at America smiles up at him with her eyes closed. He taps her nose like she's been doing to him and she buries her nose in his arm.

"You said you felt like throwing up," Maxon brings up again just in case that's an actual problem (and to avoid her vomit on his clothes).

"Oh," America says, perking up a little almost as if she didn't even remember saying that just a few moments ago. "Right. I do. My head is kind of spinning and I think my vertigo is about to go."

America stumbles on her next step and Maxon rushes to catch her. She's positioned on her back with his hands supporting her back as he stands above her. America throws her head back and looks at everything ahead of her upside down (which does not help nausea but worsens it).

"Look at me," America says, opening up her arm and whirring around. "I'm a bird flying around upside down trees."

Maxon bursts out laughing and America makes airplane noises even though she just said she was a bird. He pulls her back up and her face is an inch from his. They could almost feel each other's smiles. Maxon leans in to kiss her and she stops him with her hand.

"I told you, I'm married," America says, sparing him a wink.

America turns around and waves to him before prancing down the street in a drunken spirit. Dumbstruck for a bit, Maxon jogs to catch up to her.

"To me!" Maxon yells. "You're married to me! You're my drunk queen!"


Believe it or not, I came up with this idea in church. I think being drunk is a sin so I'm going to go pray for forgiveness.

I've only written a drunk character once before and I've never been drunk so please forgive me.

Stay Tuned - it's only fair we get a drunk Maxon.