A/N: This chapter is very short, unfortunately. But I think the content more than makes up for the length ;)

"How long did it take you to get used to someone else putting makeup on you?" May asks as Anne brushes blush onto her cheeks

"Awhile," I shrug. "It's still weird, but I think I'm better at sitting still."

"Very much so, miss," Mary says with a laugh as she pulls our costumes out of the closet. May decided to be a bride- as over the top as she could possibly be, "just like the ones we see on TV," she said. She has an enormous white ball gown, covered in lace and crystals, complete with a veil and a bouquet of silk flowers.

We ended up deciding on a butterfly for me. It's a simple black dress that hugs as many curves as can be found on my body, though that isn't many so it isn't obscene. The dress has a halter top, is nearly backless, and nearly skin tight to a few inches above my knees, where it cascades to the floor.

The dress is beautiful, but what makes it stunning is my wings.

Yards and yards of beautiful mottled orange and yellow fabric mimicking a monarch butterfly's wings attach at the back of my neck, the line of the dress below my shoulder blades, and have little hooks to go around my pinkies, over my elbow length black gloves. When we had fittings for the dress, I danced around the room with my arms raised and I quickly got lost in the whirl of colors surrounding me. I'll probably never wear this again, so I savor every second of it.

I've already had my makeup done, nothing dramatic, just natural looking with some lipstick that is a shade between dark red and orange and a hint of brown eyeliner. Lucy is twisting my hair into a complicated updo, and before I know it, they are zipping us into our gowns and we are leaving for the ballroom.

Just as we leave the room, May and I turning one direction and my maids the other, I hear someone call my name from down the hall.

I pivot to see Maxon walking briskly toward us.

"Ms. Singer," he says formally to May, "might I have a moment alone with your sister?"

May giggles and nods furiously.

"If I may," Lucy says, "I could take you to your parents room, if you'd prefer that to waiting."

"Yes, thanks," May says, winking at me as she follows Lucy down the hall. I roll my eyes with a smile at her antics.

Maxon opens my bedroom door and gestures for me to enter first.

He looks at my costume, tilting his head with a little smile. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," I say, lifting an arm and swishing my wings a bit. "Obviously, I had nothing to do with it."

I sit down on my bed and Maxon paces in front of me. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, it's great actually. I think. At least it will be. I'm not sure-"

"Maxon, calm down" I interrupt him, standing to pull his hands out of his hair. I softly kiss his cheek, and frown. "You need to shave."

He laughs. "It's for my costume, you'll see."

"What's on your mind?"

Maxon sighs. "I- well, we've talked about some things in the last week, and I wanted to make sure- that is, I wanted you to know that I've made my choice. You are my choice, perhaps even my only option, and I don't ever want you to doubt that-"

"There's not really a way to avoid that Maxon," I say softly. "You can't end everything right now, and I'm going to be insecure, that's just the way things are."

"But it doesn't have to be," Maxon says, taking a deep breath. "I talked to your father, and he approves, and I know that doesn't mean you will, but I know how close you are, so I thought that might make you feel better-"

"Maxon," I interrupt again. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He takes another deep breath and looks deep into my eyes. "America Singer, I am in love with you. You care about everyone that crosses your path, and even those that don't. You push me to be better than I am. You want this country to be the best it could possibly be. You look up to my mother, you are kind to those who are there to serve you, and you will be a phenomenal queen."

"But even more than that, you make me happy. Every spare second I have, I want to spend it with you. I want to make you as happy as you make me. I can't imagine not having you by my side forever. I love you, America. I didn't think it was possible to fall in love like this, but you had me from the moment you yelled at me for calling you 'my dear'. I want to have a family with you, I want the fingerprints all over my desk, and this speech was supposed to be better, but I've forgotten all of it, which I heard is fairly common. So, darling, the only thing left is to ask the question."

Maxon kneels in front of me and pulls a ring box out of his jacket. "America, will you marry me?"

My jaw drops. "Wha- but you can't- we have to go to the party- how can- what?" I stammer.

"No one knows I'm doing this. Except your father, technically. We'd have to hide it for another month or so, but I wanted you to have this. We will be in this together, and you can always trust me. It will be hard, but no harder than now, I wouldn't imagine."

I'm speechless. I never saw this coming, never thought this could happen. I just stand there and stare at him.

"Darling? I don't want to rush you, but we do have a party to go to. Also, I'm freaking out, a bit"

"Wh- oh, right." I shake my head, wipe my tears and pull Maxon to his feet.

"If you don't want to, I understand," he says nervously. "I know this has been hard, and if you don't want to live like this-"

"I don't think I've ever heard you babble like this," I note. "It's kind of entertaining. Does this happen often?"

"Only when I'm really, really, nervous," he admits.

I try to think of something romantic, or funny to say, but there's nothing. The only two words I can think of right now are Maxon and yes.

I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. "Of course I will."

Maxon breathes out a sigh and wraps his arms around me, kissing my hair and pulling me more tightly to him. "Oh, thank goodness."

"What, did you think I was going to say no?" I tease through the tears that have made a reappearance.

"I never know what you're going to do, love," Maxon says fondly, pulling back. "Do you want to see your ring?"

"Yes."

He pulls out the ring and slides it onto my finger. It is fairly simple- a web of golden vines that pull together two small purple and green gems. Purple is my birthstone, so I assume the green is his.

"Oh, Maxon, it's beautiful."

"I'm glad," he says simply, and pulls my hand to his mouth to kiss the ring. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to keep it yet."

"I know," I pout. I take it off and hand it back to him.

"But," he says, putting the ring and box back in his suit pocket. "I do have this. I know you have your songbird necklace, but this should be quite a bit shorter, so you can wear them at the same time, if you want. I know it's not an engagement ring, but it is something you can wear all the time."

He pulls another jewelry box out, this one long and thin. He opens it to reveal a silver chain delicately holding up an emerald-cut diamond. It's big enough to catch the light and sparkle, but not big enough to be gaudy.

"I love it."

"Good," Maxon grins, turning me to fasten it around my neck. It nestles just in the hollow between my collarbones. "We're going to get married," he says giddily.

I grin back. "We are," I say and lean up to kiss him. Maxon tosses the necklace box onto my bed so he can wrap his arms around me to lift me off the ground and spin us around.

The wings of my dress unfurl and cocoon us in a world of blurring orange and yellow, like we are the sunset and the world starts and ends with us. We kiss for a few moments, then separate, but our foreheads stay connected.

"I love you," we whisper at the same time, and we laugh together.

Maxon kisses my forehead and sighs. "We need to go."

I clutch him closer for a second, then release him. "Okay, I'll see you downstairs."

We walk to the door together, where he kisses me softly one more time. "Goodbye, future wife," he says with a goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Goodbye, future husband," I say, smiling just as big.

I hate that we have to separate right now but it can't be avoided. The only thing stopping me from skipping down the hallway is the fact that I'm wearing four inch heels; getting engaged and breaking my arm seems like too many surprises in one day.