If you love Harry and Meghan, and I know some of you readers do, then this chapter was inspired by that iconic photo of them smiling at each other in the rain. I think it was their first public appearance following Archie's birth. She wore a beautiful blue dress and all that. If you know, you know.

(I wrote this chapter back in February and Harry and Meghan had their daughter a month ago so I figured today was perfect ... and America and the 4th of July are a coincidence).


Photo #133: Love at Every Sight

Sometimes, Eadlyn can't help but wonder: if she was a part of a prince's Selection, would the prince pick her? Would he even spare her a conversation? A glance? Would she ever find someone who would look at her like that? Surely, when she would meet princes and sons of diplomats, they would fancy her but looking back at those times, they had charming and political motives. She's the heir to the throne so, of course, eyes and ears would be on her.

Would she ever find someone who'd look at her the same way her parents look at each other in the next photo? Would she ever look at someone like that? So much love that their smiles glow and they walk with such confidence. That timeless sensation. A perfect snapshot of a happily married couple still passionately in love with each other years later. Arms around each other as an umbrella shields them from the rain, trapped in their own bubble.

Their body language and affection; they're smiling, happy to be photographed together. The flash catching them at the right moment. They walk so confidently through the pouring rain with such a glow. A beautiful king and queen devoted to making life greater for everyone.

One picture. One glimpse. That's all anyone needs.

-o-

As America's car door opens, her hands rest on the skirt of her dress so it remains pressed against her legs as she steps out of the car. She steps more to the side to avoid a puddle on the ground. As she looks up, she sees photographers huddled on the other side of the barriers, trying to take photos in the dark night in the pouring rain, especially with the umbrellas.

America makes eye contact with Maxon who holds an arm out towards her and an umbrella over their heads. Once she's standing, she straightens her dress and links her arms with her husband, making sure her hair doesn't get caught on the umbrella or her lipstick.

"You look handsome, my dear," America says, leaning closer to Maxon and mocking his usual rhetoric to her.

"You beat me to it," Maxon says in a sarcastic defeat. He's already said it many times to her today, even before she got dressed for the charity gala.

Photographers agree with him, calling out compliments to try and get them to look their way as a whole. Occasionally, they would look over, waving with the brightest smiles. They couldn't see any faces behind the bright lights in the darkness, hidden with raincoats, umbrellas, and camera equipment.

"Are you getting any rain on you?" Maxon asks, looking at his wife and the umbrella to make sure she's completely underneath.

"It's fine," America says, "you'd better be dry too. Not one drop on that nice suit of yours."

"It's not like anyone will notice if it's wet. It's black. Watch."

Maxon sticks his arm out to wave to more photographers who are excited to see and capture his gesture. When he brings his arm back, he holds it out towards her. America touches it and the rain did leave its mark but not a visible one.

"Besides, as if anyone cares if my sleeve got caught in the rain," Maxon continues. "All eyes will be on you anyways."

"Don't be ridiculous," America says.

"I'm not. Nobody's looking at me or pointing their cameras at me."

"Yes, they are, look at them."

"They're only pointed at me because you're beside me." He smiles at her through the continued flashes. "Not only are you beautiful tonight and every night, but the people love you more, not as much as I love you but they can try. They won't succeed."

America grins. "You sound threatened."

"You've heard the old folk tale. A king must rule with a queen but a queen doesn't need a king."

"Kinda needed you to become queen, didn't I?"

Maxon scoffs. "Kinda."

America laughs a little as she looks up at Maxon who beams brighter than the camera flashes. For a moment, the cameras aren't there and the photographers and reporters aren't calling out to them. It's just the two of them walking down a rainy cobblestone path on a rainy night in some of their best clothes.

"Now, just for fun," America whispers but loud enough so he'd hear her over the outside excitement, "who do you think took the best photo of us?"

"America," Maxon mockingly scolds, "you can't just ask questions like that. You'll start a press war."

"What a bad queen I am," she jokes.

Maxon laughs as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in to kiss the side of her head. It's no contest that whoever captured that moment wins for the best photo.


Funny enough, this was the last chapter I wrote for this story, and it was back in February. The remaining two chapters were written last year and banked for this coming August. I'm happy it was this chapter.