Truth be told, I have a lot more fun updating this story than my other ones.

I've got to say that this is probably my favorite chapter title to date. I don't remember what I said the last one was.


Photo #48: Handsome Hammered Husbandness

Even though Eadlyn lives in the castle and is the heir to the throne, there is one place that she is not allowed to venture into (and that's saying someting since there are technically a lot of places she is not allowed to go to). What makes this place different is that she, her brothers, and even the Woodwork kids are prohibited from even going near this place. That place is her father's liquor cabinet.

Her father is no alcoholic but just like herself, he appreciates a glass of the finest wine from time to time. He was a prince so he would often receive bottles of wine as gifts, even when he was underaged. For many years, those bottles have been sitting in that cabinet in her father's office, getting better with age as he did.

It would be rare for her father to even open a bottle unless it was an occasion to celebrate - at least, that she knows of.

Eadlyn almost snorts a laugh at the next photo, despite her aching spirit. Beside the photo of her drunk mother is a picture of her father who was very young. He seemed unbalanced with his shirt buttoned wrong and he's pointing straight into the camera. Of course, there had to be a photo of her drunk father right next to her drunk mother. It only makes their marriage more fun and spontaneous under their crowns.

-o-

Early in King Maxon's reign, the workload was a lot. He had to handle the aftermath of the recent rebel attack, the death of his parents, his current reign and so much more paperwork. Maxon had to get it all done before settling down and getting married. He only wanted to start his marrie life with no worries whatsoever. His fiancé, America, offered to help along with many advisors but Maxon dismissed them. He wanted to do this all on his own, especially the planning of the memorial and funeral for his parents.

Maxon knew that when he would be King (which he technically was now even if his coronation hasn't happened yet), he would get a workload like this. He just didn't know how his father was able to manage this while his mother remained so calm. He listened a lot to his father's lessons but still wishes he paid more attention.

God, if only his parents were here right now.

Maxon runs his hands through his hair. He looks at his fingers, grateful that he isn't already balding in his early twenties.

He wants to scream or cry - whichever came first. The former did. He undid the collar on his shirt to give him the ability to improve his breathing. He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up to the crook of his elbow. He paces around his pile of paperwork, wondering which arduous conflict he should tackle next. The value of importance each issue had varied and whatever was the highest would usually be debated on by him and his advisers. The only problem with that is he is the only one in the room.

"That's it!" Maxon exclaims in his office, throwing his arms in the air. "I can't take this anymore."

Maxon makes his way to the window and looks outside, popping it open a little. The breeze tickles his crossed arms, making goosebumps appear which he harshly rubs them away. He turns away from the window, props his hands flat on the free space of his desk that he could find. Then he throws his head down, feeling the change in pressure drastically. When he stands up straight once again, he takes a sharp breath.

Maxon turns his head and sees the cabinet of aged wine and for a moment, he heard it calling out to him. He isn't sure if it's the fatigue or a side-effect of stress, but he hears something. Maxon opens the cabinet door and the whiff strikes him as something homey and rustic, though the bottles are crystal with finely-pressed labels. Maxon was no alcoholic nor did he ever plan to be one. Sometimes, a man's just got to drink something to numb the stress. Maxon pulls out the first bottle and pops it open. Never did he think that such a simple noise would satisfy him so much.

Moments after, Maxon's office door opens and he stumbles against the doorframe. After being alone in there with a bottle of scotch, he actually feels more alive.

He turns his head and sees a bobbing red puffball bouncing towards him. Actually, that's wrong. The puffball wasn't bouncing because his head was bobbing up and down. When the puffball comes closer, he sees America and he points right at her with a grin and a little cheeky laugh.

"Maxon...?" America questions oddly. With her husband's camera around her neck, since she was taking pictures in the garden, she snaps a photo of her strange husband just in case he was to deny this moment ever happening. "Are you okay?"

"My darling!" Maxon exclaims, opening his arms wide before throwing himself into her arms. "My beautiful, beautiful darling!"

"Hi..." America says, rubbing circles on his back. "It's great to see you outside of you - " she cuts herself off when she smells something on him that wasn't his cologne " - are you drunk?"

"Of course I am!" Maxon exclaims, breaking from her arms and struggling to keep balanced on his feet. He puts his hands on his temple. "I am a young man who's now an orphan with a country to run. I can't do this without a bottle."

Maxon screams a cry as he falls on his knees. He hugs America's knees and cries into her sweater, blowing his nose on the wool which she cringes greatly at. America scrunches her sleeves in her fists before relaxing her hands and rubbing Maxon's shoulders. She stretches her neck to look inside his office and sees a half-empty bottle of scotch on his crowded desk.

"A big bottle..." America mutters under her breath. She takes a breath. "Well, Maxon, I don't know what to say other than this is all your fault."

"My fault?!" Maxon screams, getting back on his feet. He almost falls back but quickly regains himself. "My fault?! I have so much work on my shoulders and needed to get it all off. Blame that cabinet which now needs a lock. The scotch was speaking to me, America. It's voice was so hypnotizing and alluring, kind of like a siren or those mystics. It knew how to help me and now I feel no pain."

America wrinkles her eyebrows in confusion at the last part of what Maxon said, trying to make sense of it all. She shakes her head, discarding the drunk crap her husband said.

"Yes!" America yells at him. "This is all your fault!"

She jabs a finger into his chest to emphasize her point. Maxon, still surprised, takes a few breaths as he shakes her head. She would guess that he's angry at her for putting the blame on him but he's drunk so she can't tell.

"Maxon," America starts calmly, "you wanted to all this alone even though we all offered. You're new at being the ruler and with all this grief in your heart, there was no way you could manage this all on your own. You have all the help you need. You have your advisors and not to mention me! Your damn fiancé! I'm going to rule with you! Goddammit, Maxon Schreave..."

"America Singer - !" He yells back.

"You're drunk, my handsome hammered husbandness!"

"Yeah, well, you're - "

America tilts her head up with her mouth open a little as she waits for him to finish that thought. Maxon, fuming, simmers down as he tries to think over what America said, despite the slight nausea the alcohol gave him. He looks at America and she sees his face soften.

"You're right..." Maxon mutters as the alcohol overpowering his body causes him to cry. "I have you. I've always had you. And to think that I've always feared pushing you away and it's happening again. I just - I didn't want you to handle all of that and think it was too much or too stressful."

"Oh, Maxon..." America coos. "The only thing that's too much is all the scotch you drank."

"Kiss me, darling."

Maxon flings himself at her but she stops, holding him back and resisting him even though he was stronger and winning. America finally pushes herself off with a little laughter escaping her mouth.

"I'll kiss you when you're sober," she tells him, entering his office and closing the bottle of scotch.

"You're so good to me, America," Maxon, now droopy says to her. "I don't know how I ever deserved you."

America nods, taking his arm and leading him to their bedroom so he can take a nap.

"You, my darling, are the best thing that has ever happened to me," Maxon continues. "The best. I can't fathom to imagine a world without you in it."

America smiles. She loves how her husband is so much more sentimental when drunk. What more for the hangover he's going to have.


I did not expect this chapter to be this long but hey, long chapters and a drunk Maxon is what we all want.

Stay Tuned - might want to plug your ears for the next one...