A/N: As promised, another chapter on the same night. Thanks again for reading! :)

"Merry Christmas, Mama!" Calix squeals, scrambling onto the bed all elbows and knees. I raise my head and open one eye, groaning. I feel Maxon pick him up, saying, "Why don't we get dressed and then make some hot chocolate for all of us. By the time we do that, Mama will be up and ready to open presents." Thank god for that man. We had excused all but a skeleton staff so that they could spend Christmas Day with their families. It would have been selfish to keep our staff members at work when we could do for ourselves. "Kiss for Mama!" they shout and they both cover my cheeks before racing out of the room. I push myself out of bed and pull on a robe, soon realizing that it just wasn't going to fit across the middle. I smile at the reason, and wonder if Calix would have a brother or sister in the spring. Our trip to Italy last summer was certainly a productive one. I pad into the bathroom and wash up, then slip into a simple shift with room for my girth and add soft slippers for my feet. One of the changes we'd made is to have the holiday ball over New Year's, and I was excited that the biggest expectation for today would be dinner with family and close friends.

I make it to the common room as Maxon and Calix return, balancing cups of cocoa and strawberry tarts on a tray. We share the food over the coffee table, and I can't help feeling cozy and festive. "Mama?"

"Yes, Cal?"

"Daddy said the baby would like the strawberry tarts. Does the baby like the strawberry tarts?"

I gather him up to my hip and drop a kiss on his forehead, "Yes, honey, and so does Mama. Thank you."

We open a few simple gifts and then Maxon and I retreat to the couch. I watch Calix play on the floor near the tree skirt, and pat the warm arm around my shoulders, draw his hand to my lips. "Love you," Maxon smiles, and presses a kiss into my temple. "How's our other one doing?"

"Fine," I whisper back, basking in the quiet attention and the peaceful room, "Love you, too." When the rest of my family arrives, organized chaos will break out across this room. And I am happy they will probably sleep in. Calix turns his honey brown eyes to us eagerly, "Daddy, help me build a palace with my new blocks? Mama, your job is to supervise."

Maxon laughs, "Well, son, you have the order of things right."

"As you wish, Prince Calix," I tease and squeeze Maxon's hand. I pull my legs up beside me, and recline into the corner of the couch, watching my husband and his sweet four-year-old sidekick make order out of the pile of colored blocks on the floor.

Our loved ones came and went. Later that night, we stand in the doorway of the nursery, watching the rhythmic breathing of our son. Maxon gently closes the door and leads me back to the couch. "I have something for you, America." I raise an eyebrow. He kneels in front of me on the floor as he fishes a box out of his pocket.

Lightly, I say "Maxon, we're already married." As he opens the box, I find a thin gold piece, matching the style of my ring, and bearing Calix's birthstone and a small teardrop diamond on the other. "It's beautiful—what is it?"

"The jeweler said it is called a wrap. They were very popular before our kingdom was established. Trust me?" I nod. He removes my ring, places the thinner band around it, and then returns both to my ring finger. The thinner band did wrap around our stones, adding Calix to our ring.

Pointing, "I know this one is for Calix. But, what does the diamond represent?"

He leans forward and kisses my forehead, "The one after."

Tears spring to my eyes, and we both remember the excitement of finding out that we were adding to our family and the panic as Doc told us that there was nothing we could do. The following spring was bleak, especially cold and rainy, and matched the collective mood of the palace. Our trip to Italy the following summer was a balm, even though we worked to improve alliances and trade agreements, Calix and May traveled with us. Nicoletta pulled us into her circle for eight weeks. We left refreshed, and carrying a special souvenir. "I love it." We sit that way for a while, Maxon cradling my hips and resting his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through his hair, again and again.

"Are you ready for your surprise?"

He starts up, genuinely astonished. "For me? My intel shared nothing about any shopping excursions."

"Because there wasn't one," I say, reaching into the drawer of the table by the sofa. "Though you may need better agents." He looks at me quizzically, as I hand him a book. Puzzlement turns to joy as he opens the first page and sees pictures of a very small Maxon, cradled in his mother's arms. His father's face softened with a familiar smile. As he moves through the book, Maxon grows from an infant to a toddler. Toddler to preschooler. Preschooler to student. Student to young man. And then, pictures he took of me during the Selection. Our engagement and wedding photos. Candids of our honeymoon in Honduragua. Me, in profile, and very pregnant with the little boy in the next room. "How, love?"

"There are many in this palace loyal to their Queen, Maxon," I wink. "I have agents of my own." I am pleased that he likes it so well, and we journey through the pictures two more times before switching the lamp off and walking hand in hand to bed.

As I settle myself against his shoulder, he wraps an arm around my burgeoning waist and asks "Did you have a good Christmas, America?"

"Are we here together?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes, Maxon. That's really all I need."