Maxon made an uncomfortable, throaty, complaining sound to announce his arrival in the family room. America had Addy in one arm and a folder full of final details for the summit in the other, and looked up when she heard him, ceasing the absentminded soothing noises she was making to keep the baby content.
"What's wrong?" America asked, concerned.
Maxon was practically pouting, his arms crossing over his chest in an attempt at self-consolation. "Your freckles are fading, Love."
America blinked, then lifted her arched eyebrows in surprise, "That's what has you so upset?"
"I love your freckles, Ames." Maxon whined, crossing over to join America on the sofa, careful not to jostle the papers spread out in front of her.
"They were a side-effect of pregnancy hormones, Max, of course they're fading." America attempted to reason with him.
Maxon humphed and leant back, letting the soft sofa swallow him up a little. "Maybe we should try for another pregnancy, then."
America spared him a piercing, exasperated look. He knew very well that such an attempt wasn't even medically safe yet, but he brought up his desire for more babies just about every day. "You know," she said, returning half of her attention to the summit papers in front of her, "A little time in the sun might bring out those freckles, too. Maybe you should take me to the beach or a private little lagoon or something."
Maxon sighed, much put upon. "I suppose I love you either way."
America giggled, "I'll be pregnant again someday, Maxon—"
"Sunday?" He asked, hopefully, as though he'd misheard her, though he knew that wasn't what she'd said.
"Someday." America laughed. "In the meantime, you have plenty of photographs to remember the freckles by."
"I certainly do." he agreed, making tickle-fingers at Addy, watching her expression as she looked away from America to gaze at him in wonder. Then he slipped his hands under Adrienne's neck and back and lifted her out of America's grasp.
America stretched her liberated arms over her head and then arched her back. She was rewarded with a few crackles and a slight relief from the stiffness in her body. Even in Maxon's sweatpants and her own soft cotton shirt, this much sitting was hard on her still-healing body.
"Can we take a walk, Maxon?" America asked, setting the papers aside. "I'm ready for a break."
"I'd be happy to, my love." Maxon said, cheerfully. It was obvious he was tired, this summit was even harder to coordinate on his end. America had to avoid insulting anyone with seating arrangements and color schemes, but Maxon had to actually facilitate peace negotiations between two countries seemingly chomping at the bit to go to war with one another. Maxon had shadows under his eyes and the posture of a weary king, but his expression was of childlike joy as he stood, tossed his tie aside, juggled the baby between arms to remove his jacket and let that, too, fall to the sofa, and then offered his free arm to America. "Where to, my beautiful wife?"
America stood and stretched her whole body, reaching all the way up to the ceiling and going up on her tiptoes. "A lap or two around the third floor would be nice." she suggested. It was just a little too chilly that evening to casually walk through the gardens, and anyway, America wasn't feeling up to seeing anyone else. She wanted to stay in her private sanctuary with her husband and baby.
"As my queen commands." Maxon agreed, pecking her cheek as she took his offered arm.
Addy cooed and squirmed excitedly as they rounded the corner into the hallway, and Maxon and America both took a moment to make silly faces at her and admire their creation. Three weeks since Adrienne's birth, and they were still as in awe of and in love with her as they had been the second she was born.
"So, no last minute cancellations for the summit?" America asked, lacing her fingers with Maxon's.
"None, surprisingly. All invitees are still planning on attending, and our more distant guests are already in the air on their way." It was still a day and a half until foreign dignitaries were meant to start arriving at the Palace.
"We'll be ready to receive them." America promised. America was taking on as much as she possibly could, trying to give Maxon less to worry about, even though she was still healing and supposed to be on maternity leave.
"You've got the fabrics ordered?" he remembered that that had been her big struggle from the day before. America loved that Maxon always treated the more ceremonial aspects of her job as if they were as important as the policy and diplomacy of his job. It was one instance when Maxon would readily quote his father. 'You can't have one without the other, Maxon. The King cannot do his job until the Queen has done hers.'
"Nearly. And the menus are going through final approval as we speak. It's been madness, throwing this together, but when it does come together, I think it will look clean and polished."
"If there's one thing I've learned, being married to you, it's that you can do anything you set your mind to." Maxon smiled over at her. America felt herself blush a little at the expression of complete and total respect and admiration on Maxon's face.
America cleared her throat and stared down at her bare feet for a moment, recovering. "Um, oh, I also heard back from the Archbishop, he said he's more than happy to officiate Addy's christening next week instead of next month. His schedule was easily cleared for us, apparently."
"Very good." Maxon said, pleased. "Nicoletta and Eaon will certainly appreciate that."
Before all of this 'emergency summit' mess, Addy's christening was scheduled for her two month birthday. This would also have been America's official return to work and public appearances, with her return to private work having been two weeks earlier.
Now, however, as Princess Nicoletta and King Eaon, Addy's godparents, were flying to Illéa for the summit, it didn't make sense to have them go home and then fly all the way back in five weeks' time. America and Maxon had discussed it and decided to try to move the event forward so that Eaon and Nicoletta could simply stay for a few days after the summit to partake in the celebrations. Any of the foreign dignitaries who felt so inclined and whose schedules allowed, would also be invited to stay for the christening.
The stress was really starting to get to America, planning two major events at the same time, back to back, as well as caring for a newborn and trying to regain her stamina after giving birth. "I've got to coordinate with Gavril next, for that." she couldn't keep the reluctance from her tone.
"Do you think it will be hard?" Maxon asked, confused by the tone of her voice.
"No, it'll be fine. It's not as though the photographers and reporters won't show up just because it's earlier than we'd originally announced. And Gavril is usually happy, no matter what we do, so long as we're doing something in the public eye."
"Then what's wrong, Love? What's causing that little crease between your brows?" he asked.
"Pure silliness." America said, shaking her head. "That's all. We don't need to talk about it."
Maxon dropped her hand so that he could adjust Addy in his arms. "You know that you can tell me anything, even if it's silly."
America nodded and pushed a fallen swirl of red hair behind her ear. "I was just looking forward to those four weeks. We were going to christen her when she was eight weeks old, now we're doing it when she's four weeks old… I wanted those four weeks."
"You'll still have them, Love." Maxon tried to reassure her. "You won't have to resume a normal work schedule until after the six week mark, and you won't be on your own in public until the eight week mark. And if you're not feeling ready by then, you'll take more time."
"I know that, that's not what… not what I mean…"
"Ames?" He didn't understand, but he so clearly wished to.
"I wanted the extra time to lose some more weight, Maxon." she admitted, frustration in her tone. Mostly, she was frustrated at herself. "I've lost most of it, but there's this puff of stomach and Dr. Ashlar said that I just need a few more weeks for my internal organs to shift back to their usual position and for my uterus to shrink back down to its usual size, and I'm trying not to be too hard on myself because that makes sense to me, logically. And since I'm breastfeeding, I'm going to have an extra little layer of fat on my body, anyway, and that's okay because most of that layer has somehow stuck to my chest and I sort of like my bigger cup size. But I just know that if I'd had the eight weeks, instead of four, I could have fit into my normal size clothes again. And really, with the photographs that will be taken of me at the summit in a couple of days, it's just three weeks. Less than half the time I thought I'd have." America's eyes were welling up now. " So, anyway, now I'm going to have to go out and be photographed greeting the leaders of the world, and those photographs will go down in history with your reign, and the christening pictures will go down with Adrienne's reign, and I'll have this stupid stomach in all of them, I'll be the fat queen forever—"
"America." Maxon froze, jaw dropped, brow furrowed. He couldn't believe his ears. "You just instituted an amendment that radically improved the prospects for women in Illéa, including our own daughter; you've created health clinics for expectant and new mothers throughout the country, you're beginning the planning stages of a massive overhaul of our education system in this country, and you think you're going to be down in the history books as the fat queen?"
America swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped the excess moisture from her eyes. "…Yes. That's just… sort of how it is for women, Maxon. Men get talked about for their accomplishments, women get talked about for how they look while they're accomplishing things."
Maxon didn't reply at first. He stared at her, disbelieving, then frowned and turned on his heel to continue their walk. His brow furrowed, his gaze flicked from Addy's face to the floor, then back again as he thought through what she'd just said. He turned to her a couple of times, opening his mouth to say something, then immediately pressing it closed again, his lips making a thin line.
America self-consciously folded her arms and waited for him to tell her that she was being stupid.
Spurred on by her movement, Maxon finally got some words out of his mouth. "First of all, you aren't even fat! It wouldn't matter to me if you were fat, I adore every inch of you, but it just so happens that in this instance, you're in a very healthy clinical zone."
"'Healthy clinical zone' doesn't always look good in a dress, Maxon—"
"Stop it!" His voice was almost angry, but his eyes were pleading. "Look at our daughter, America. Isn't she beautiful?"
"Yes. She's the most beautiful thing in the whole universe."
"You made her in that stomach you're so casually dismissing simply as 'fat'—"
"I'm not, I told you, I understand that my body hasn't had time to rearrange itself yet, all I mean is that the pictures aren't going to show an x-ray of my distended uterus, they're going to show my lumpy stomach—"
"Well, second of all," Maxon groused, "It's the dead of winter. You'll be wearing thick layers in half the pictures you're so worried about, your stomach won't even be visible. Have you ever known Mary not to make you look splendid? You think she's going to put you in a potato sack or something?"
"Of course not. I'm sorry I said anything, Maxon, can we just forget it?" America mumbled, blushing.
"No, we can't." His voice was still intense, but his words were completely remorseful, "Because I'm sorry, too, I didn't even think of this when I called for the summit—"
"Of course you didn't, you shouldn't have to—"
"I was so busy worrying about the German Federation's tenuous economy, I completely forgot about allowing you time to regain your confidence, your mental health, after the baby. If I'd had a shred of consideration, I'd have suggested hosting the summit in England—"
"Maxon, I'm fine, you're right, I'm worried for nothing. Illéa is the right place to host the peace summit, it's neutral ground, and Mary's going to pull out all of the stops on my wardrobe. I'm going to have the most beautiful clothes—"
"No, it's not nothing, Ames. I invited all kinds of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances into our home before you were ready to be seen, it's not nothing—"
America sighed, heavily, realizing that she couldn't stop this now that she'd started it.
Maxon stopped walking again, "America, you just gave us this beautiful baby three weeks ago. Baby Adrienne, who I love more than life itself, who means more to me than anything else in the world, who I talk to when it's two o'clock in the morning and I can't sleep, whose little baby noises and squirms make me smile when nothing else can. I wouldn't have her if it wasn't for your belly, do you have any idea how much I love your belly?"
America's eyes fell to the floor and she chewed her lip, not sure what to say. Maxon reached out and took her hand, inhaling a calming breath. When he spoke again, it was less urgently. "You don't have to see yourself any particular way, you've more than earned the right to take your time with your body, but you've got to know how the rest of us feel. We're all so in awe of you, Ames."
"Maxon—" America tried to protest. She didn't want him to feel like he had to inflate her ego, that wasn't what she'd been fishing for with this conversation.
"No, seriously. You're a young queen still growing into your role as leader, you're a first time mother with a three-week-old to care for, you're a stalwart in your family; your brother and sisters look up to your example so much… We can't believe how gracefully you're handling it all, without missing a single step. Silvia is blown away by your efforts with the summit, Gavril is impressed by your efforts with the christening, Stavros can't believe you're back to work so soon, and I am in awe watching you with this baby, seeing how wonderful a mother you are without having had any practice beforehand. Once the rest of the country sees how hard you've been working and how amazing a mother you are to their future queen, they're going to love you even more, if possible. They're not going to care about your receding baby bump, America, give them the benefit of the doubt."
America forced herself to look up into his bright, brown eyes. All of his conviction was right there for her to read. He believed everything he'd just told her, not a syllable had been a lie. Though she was still nervous about it all, she had to trust him. Maxon had more experience than she did at Palace life, so if he believed that the people would go easy on her, then she had to operate under the assumption that he was right, even if she couldn't quite believe it herself. And either way, hearing that her friends and family were proud of her was enough to lift quite a bit of the weight off of her shoulders.
"Alright. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt." She offered him a little smile.
He kissed her, hoping to offer a little extra reassurance, and then pressed a kiss to Addy's face. "I mean look at her, Ames."
"I know." America said, looping an arm through his. They started off at their leisurely pace again.
"I want twelve more of her."
"Twelve?" America laughed. "Can you imagine the dirty diaper pile? Can you imagine the spit up?"
Maxon didn't care. He tickled Adrienne's tummy and cooed at her, and then began telling the baby all about how wonderful it would be to have twelve Addy clones, and all of the fun they could have, and how they would have to be on their best behavior until Mommy agreed to make twelve Addy clones, and then they could have a 'Daddy and Addy party' with all of the new Addys.
Maxon had not been wrong about the work Mary was going to put into America's wardrobe for the summit and the christening. America awoke on the morning of the first arrivals to find a breathtaking navy peacoat dress with big, shiny, ornate gold buttons in perfect pairs from her collar bone to her waist. Combined with the matching heels and a soft updo for her hair, America was going to look sophisticated and stately, while also looking glamorous and feminine. Best of all, because of the way the skirt flared out in just the right way, America's tiny waist would be on display while her puffy tummy would be almost impossible to spot beneath the thick fabric.
The only downside was that it would be an absolute pain to breastfeed in, needing to be completely removed to protect the dress from spills, so America fed Addy first thing and made as many bottles as she could pump out before Mary dressed her.
Every fifteen minutes, set according to geographical proximity to the Illéa Palace from farthest capital to nearest capital, the kings, queens, and leaders of the major economic countries of the world arrived, walked up the steps, shook hands with Maxon and America, turned out for photographs, and were escorted inside with the ladies on Maxon's arm and the gentlemen on America's. America was casual acquaintances with most of the guests, but Maxon had known all of them for his whole life. He was in his element, welcoming them into his home, and every single guest expressed genuine enthusiasm at sneaking a peak of the royal baby at some point during the summit.
America couldn't see a way out of having her newborn infant passed around a roomful of people carrying bacteria from all over the globe, but she wished she could. She'd have to consult with Silvia to figure out if it was remotely possible to keep Addy away from foreign germs without insulting literally all of Illéa's allies at once.
For America, the highlight of all of this pacing in and out of the Palace as they greeted the endless arrival of foreign guests was Nicoletta, who had volunteered to singlehandedly represent Italy at this summit. Unlike the others, Nicoletta wasted no time trying to shake Maxon's or America's hands, instead swooping right in for two enormous hugs and several cheek kisses each.
"My godchild, America, where can I find my little bebè?" Nicoletta asked, the moment they'd turned their backs to the cameras and begun the walk inside.
"She's with my sister Kenna upstairs." America smiled. "You should sneak up before dinner and have a look at her."
"Try and stop me." Nicoletta beamed. "Now, I may have gone a little too far with the presents for her. You won't offend me if you have to give some of them away, there are probably several nurseries worth of toys in my bags."
"Your poor servants."
"They're on a whirlwind tour of Illéa, what do they care?" Nic whooshed her hand to blow away any concerns about her staff. "Now, tell me all about this gorgeous dress you are wearing, my sweet. Who made this for you?"
"Mary, of course." America grinned.
Nicoletta tisked and shook her head, "That girl is worth her weight in diamonds. I can't afford to buy her off you."
"Oh, she couldn't move to Italy anyway, Nic. She's engaged." America grinned and Nicoletta's face lit up.
"Tell me absolutely everything. Spare me no details."
Maxon stayed back and let America show Nicoletta up to the guest rooms on the second floor that had been reserved for the delegation from Italy, on the condition that America be back in time to greet the arrivals from France in ten minutes' time. Princess Daphne would not be among them, which disappointed America. Daphne was full of hilarious, embarrassing stories with which to blackmail Maxon.
America and Nicoletta gossiped the entire way up the stairs, down the hall, and into the suite of rooms. When America turned to rejoin Maxon, Nicoletta stopped her for a moment and gave her another hug. "You're really alright?" Nicoletta checked. "Maxon is helping with the baby? You have lots of support? Everything you need?"
America nodded and smiled, swallowing a lump in her throat brought on by her friend's genuine concern. America knew that if, for some reason, the answer to any of those questions was 'no', Nicoletta would not be leaving Illéa until the problem was solved. "I'm really alright. Maxon is a fantastic father, and I have everything I need and more."
"Good." Nicoletta smiled. "I'll be up to see the baby this evening."
"I'm looking forward to it." America waved, and hurried off to greet the French.
As excited as America was to see the Italian delegation, that's how excited Maxon was when the English arrived. King Eoan, Queen Waverly, and their two sons, the five year old Prince Andrew and the two year old Prince Lucas, emerged from their car to a dazzling array of camera flashes. More than any other arrival, the English monarchy were superstars in Illéa.
Maxon and Eoan went from handshake to hug very quickly, and the flawless, effortless Waverly embraced America with just as much friendliness. "It's been too long." Waverly lamented, pushing her perfectly smooth, golden hair behind her ear.
"I know it has." America said, nervously. There were a hundred cameras down there taking pictures of her next to this vision of loveliness. "I hope you were serious about inviting us out to the countryside for a while."
"Are you joking?" Waverly smiled, "It's all Eaon's been talking of for a month now. He's been scouting sites to take Maxon hunting, keeping an eye on how much game is afoot."
"Maxon needs a good hunting trip." America admitted, "He loves it, and I don't think he's been in the last couple of years."
"Eaon plans to fix all of that." Waverly laughed at her tall, expressive husband still rapt in conversation with Maxon next to them.
"Erm, excuse me." The five-year-old prince bowed to America, the younger prince clasping his brother's hand nervously. The five-year-old looked between his mother and America, but the two-year-old kept his eyes glued on Ames.
"What is it, darling?" Waverly asked.
"Only, well, Lucas wants to know where the baby is." Andrew's little accent was adorable, America tried to keep a goofy smile off her face so that he wouldn't feel patronized.
"Oh, Lucas wants to know, eh?" Waverly grinned, then turned to America. "They've both been talking about baby Adrienne nonstop since we got on the plane. I think they're excited to have a new royal kid around at these boring, grownup events." Then she returned her attention to the boys. "Do you remember how extremely small we said the baby was?"
"Yes, Mummy." Andrew nodded. Lucas continued gazing up at America.
"She's still a bit too small to do all of the things that we're going to do." Waverly reminded them.
The boys looked a little crestfallen, so America added, "You'll see her around the Palace, though, especially once the summit is over and it's time to focus on her christening. You'll see a lot of her then."
The boys nodded dutifully, but their eyes showed their eagerness to meet their new companion. Andrew looked content to turn and pose for pictures, but Lucas tugged his arm really hard and whispered in his ear. Andrew nodded.
"Yes, um, excuse me." Andrew said again.
America and Waverly shared amused smiles, "Yes, Prince Andrew?" America replied.
"Daddy said… Daddy mentioned that, um, there might be a playground at this Palace, perhaps. And that, if we were very good, we could maybe play?"
America laughed, "Of course! We do have quite an impressive treehouse in the gardens, and you're more than welcome to play to your heart's content. We also have an indoor swimming pool and a movie theater down in the basement."
"Hmm?" Lucas squeaked, looking up at Andrew for clarification.
Andrew patted his brother's shoulder, "They've a cinema here, Luke."
Lucas looked to his mother, immediately.
Waverly nodded, "We'll work something out. You can't spend the whole time in the cinema, boys, but perhaps in the evenings before bedtime, so long as we aren't bothering King Maxon or Queen America."
The boys nodded to each other, excitedly, and then Prince Andrew said, very respectfully, "Thank you very much. Your palace sounds quite nice."
Maxon turned to America and placed a hand on the small of her back, "Well? Are we ready to pose?"
"Yes." America smiled back to him, still giggling from Andrew's comment.
America was exhausted by the time the guests were all accounted for and had been shown to their rooms. Maxon had to attend to a last minute treaty detail with Stavros, but he'd be up in time to change for dinner. Therefore, America was on her own as she made her way back upstairs for a small break before the extravagant evening meal she'd be hosting.
The moment she emerged on the third floor, America slipped off her heels and groaned, her feet sinking into the plush carpeting.
"Ma'am, would you like an arm?" Officer Kilroy, a bright faced young man who'd come in with the same training group as Aspen, offered. He held his arm out for her to grasp, gallantly.
"No, thank you. I'll manage for now. Perhaps after dinner." America smiled, weakly, thinking of how exhausted she'd be before the first course was even served.
"Of course, ma'am." He returned her smile, and then returned to his post, at attention.
America did her best not to hobble too badly as she gingerly made her way to the family room. Through the nursery door, she could hear Kenna singing in bright, happy tones to Addy.
America poked her head in as she began unbuttoning the rows and rows of buttons on her dress. "I'm back for a little bit." she waved to her sister.
Kenna grinned up at her, "Good, I was worried about you. That was a lot of time on your feet, Ames."
"It's better now that I'm not actually pregnant anymore." America smiled and waved a hand at Addy, who gazed back at her, enraptured. "Although, you're right, my ankles feel terrible."
"Aw, Ames." Kenna made a sympathetic face. "Go take a hot bath. Adrienne will be ready for a pre-dinner snack after that."
America did not need to be told twice, although she laughed at the great benefit of having her big sister nanny her child. Sometimes Kenna babied Addy and Ames.
Mary had been told not to come up to get America ready for dinner until the last possible moment, so America got the opportunity to curl up on the couch in the family room wearing her comfiest pajamas, feed her daughter, and then cuddle that baby girl close for a little while. Kenna sat in an adjacent overstuffed chair and chattered away about May and Officer Rivers (still dating and starting to seem a little more serious about each other), and about Astra and Kile's current whereabouts (In one of the side kitchens with Paige, staying out of the way and learning a 'secret' cookie recipe). America was more than happy to sit quietly and listen as Kenna got her fill of 'grownup' conversation.
Addy had just begun cooing happily, making adorable baby noises when there was a knock at the door and Officer Kilroy poked his head in. "Your Majesty, Duchess," he bowed to America and Kenna. "The Princess Nicoletta of Italy has requested admittance to visit."
"Yes, of course! Send her in." America sat up straight and arranged the pillows around her. Addy ignored all of this and continued gurgling and vocalizing.
"I'm about to meet a princess?" Kenna gaped.
"Ken… you're the nanny for a princess. Ken! Astra is considered a princess—" America laughed.
"I know that," Kenna rolled her eyes, "but this is different, this is a real princess."
"Oh, thanks." America said, sardonically, on Addy's behalf.
"That's not what I meant, I mean—"
"Take a deep breath. Nicoletta is an absolute sweetheart, you're going to love her, and she's your niece's godmother so the two of you have a precious little baby girl in common."
Kenna nodded and combed her fingers through her hair a couple of times before the door to the family room opened again and Nicoletta appeared.
"Good!" Nicoletta said, without missing a beat, "You're relaxing. That husband of yours should never have…" Nicoletta trailed off, her eyes falling on Addy's expressive little face. She inhaled sharply, muttering in Italian, though America missed the exact words. "She's somehow even better in reality than in the pictures…" Nicoletta finally managed in english.
America smiled, "Nicoletta, this is your goddaughter, Adrienne. Addy, this is your Aunt Nic." Nicoletta glanced up at America, beaming at the new nickname, and then turned her gaze back to the baby.
"Ciao, bellissima…" Nicoletta cooed, joining America on the couch.
"And this is my sister, Kenna. I don't think that the two of you have met."
At Nicoletta's appearance, Kenna had leapt up into a curtsey, but now at Nicoletta's insistence, she sank back into her seat.
"Any sister of my America is a sister of mine." Nicoletta smiled warmly, tearing her eyes away from Addy's face. "Where is that stunner of a younger sister you have?"
"She's with my mother, at their house in town."
"She'll be at the christening, yes?"
"Oh, yes." America nodded.
"Good. I need to take that girl to Italy with me, a girl that beautiful could have a lot of fun in my country."
"She's still a little young for that, Nic."
"Pfft." Nicoletta clearly disagreed.
"Would you like to hold her?" America asked, using the baby to distract Nicoletta from May.
"More than anything." Nicoletta smiled.
America carefully shifted Addy into Nicoletta's warm grasp. Addy complained at the tumult, she'd been very cozy in her mommy's arms after all, but she settled right in once the shuffling stopped.
"Ah… she's an angel, America."
"I know."
"She got your hair, that's wonderful. Gorgeous, red, flowing hair for all Illéan monarchs from now on."
"That's the plan." America laughed.
There came another knock at the door, and Officer Kilroy appeared again. "Your Majesty, your Highness, Duchess." he bowed to each of them in turn, which looked exhausting as his bows were so deep and there were so many of them, "Sorry to interrupt, but Her Royal Majesty Queen Waverly of England, as well as their Royal Highnesses, the Princes—-"
"Waverly is here with the kids?" Nicoletta intervened in Kilroy's epic saga of a speech.
"Yes, ma'am." Kilroy said.
"They're welcome to join us." America said, simply.
Kilroy nodded, looking vaguely relieved, and disappeared. When she walked through the door, the first thing Waverly said was, "I'm so sorry—"
"Oh, no, don't be." America insisted with a smile.
"Nicoletta!" Waverly greeted warmly and leant down to hug the Italian princess, careful not to squish Adrienne. "Here to meet your goddaughter?"
"Absolutely."
"I'm so sorry to intrude, but I promised the boys that if they helped their maids to unpack and if they took quick baths, I would ask you how to find the treehouse."
The boys in question were standing right behind their mother, lingering in the doorway, eyeing the women in the room nervously.
"Of course, it's no trouble at all. Any guard could have pointed you in the right direction."
"I'm sure, I simply didn't want to assume. I wanted to make absolutely certain that they have permission to play there."
"Of course they do. Any time they want to, they're welcome to anything we have in the Palace." America promised.
"That's nice to hear. Clarkson was always a little…" Waverly trailed off, but she met America's eyes significantly.
"I'll bet he was." America frowned. She could just imagine how Clarkson would have treated the young English monarchs anytime they came to visit. Probably about as well as he treated Maxon most of the time, but luckily without the physical abuse. "No, Waverly, the kids can do as they please. We try to keep out of the way of the people who work here at the Palace, and they'll need special permission to be on this floor, the Women's Room, or in the wing where Maxon and I have our offices, but otherwise, they are free to explore and play. That's how our children will be raised, too."
Waverly smiled, "Did you hear that, boys?"
"Yes, um," Andrew scratched his sandy brown hair thoughtfully, "Do you suppose that's the baby?"
"It is the baby." America grinned. "Come have a look at her, while you're here. This is the new princess in town. This is Adrienne. We call her Addy, or Birdy."
"Birdy?" Andrew asked as he and Lucas tiptoed over to Nicoletta to peer down at the gurgling girl.
"That's right." America said. "When she's hungry, she makes a face just like a baby bird waiting for its mother to feed it."
"Is she not hungry now? Will she make the face?" Andrew asked, hopefully.
"I've just fed her." America said, sorry to disappoint him. "But if she makes the face another time while you're nearby, I'll make sure to call you over."
Andrew nodded, satisfied.
Lucas leant down close to the baby and smiled at her, then looked back up at America, "I like her hair." he said, in an adorable toddler version of Andrew's kid version of Waverly and Eaon's accent.
"You do?" America grinned.
"Yes, um … I've a car that color."
"Toy car." Waverly added to America, with a laugh. "We aren't France, for heaven's sake."
America wasn't sure what this meant, exactly. Was France known for giving automobiles to their royal toddlers? She laughed, anyway.
"Does she scream very much?" Andrew asked, interestedly.
"No, not much. Mostly when she's tired or hungry."
Andrew laughed, "Luke still screams when he's hungry."
Lucas looked embarrassed by this. "No! Only on the plane, Andrew—"
Waverly ran a comforting hand through Lucas' sandy blond curls. "We were more tired than hungry by that point, weren't we, lovie? We'd been in the air for far too long."
"Yes. Quite." Lucas whined.
"Do you know what, boys?" America smiled, leaning forward. "You're welcome to go out to the treehouse, if you'd like. But my niece Astra, and her friend Kile are down in a side kitchen making cookies, if you'd rather play with some other kids your age. Astra is just a little younger than you are, Andrew, and Kile is two like you Lucas."
"There are more kids here?" Andrew couldn't contain his excitement. America was reminded of Maxon's isolated upbringing, of how rarely he got to interact with children his own age. Even with a brother, Andrew and Lucas probably still craved that kind of interaction.
"There are." America smiled.
"That sounds lovely, doesn't it, boys? Would you like to help those children make some biscuits?"
"Yes, please!" Andrew grinned.
"Yes." Lucas nodded, then looked back at Addy, pity in his eyes. "The baby can come?"
"No, she's going to stay here. She can't eat the cookies yet, anyway." America reasoned.
Lucas nodded, but then held out one small finger and traced a lock of Addy's red curls. "I will look for you later, Princess." he whispered.
"Right boys, let's not intrude any longer." Waverly laughed at her son's bizarre behavior.
America laughed, too. "Just tell the guard at the end of the hallway, Kilroy, that he has my leave to show you the way to the side kitchens."
"Thank you for being such a wonderful hostess, America." Waverly smiled. "And congratulations on your beautiful baby."
America was still smiling when the door closed behind the English royals and Kenna finally let out a gasp.
"Oh my God… Ames! That was Queen. Waverly." Kenna still had stars in her eyes. "I can't believe it… she was right here. In this room. I was five feet away from her!"
"Is your sister a big fan of Waverly?" Nicoletta asked America, amused.
"Apparently." America laughed. "Kenna, just wait until the christening. Maybe I should sit the two of you together?"
"No!" Kenna exclaimed. "No, you can't do that. Ames, please, I'd never know what to say or do—"
"Just an introduction, then?"
Kenna nodded, relieved.
Addy gurgled and squealed, waving her arms around happily, and Nicoletta laid the baby down along her lap and bounced her. "Yes, those were some very nice princes, weren't they, sweet one? Perhaps they'll grow into handsome, nice princes. Aunt Nic's favorite kind."
America rolled her eyes. "Leave it to you to try to matchmake a bunch of babies, Nicoletta."
Nicoletta shrugged, trying to cast America an innocent look. "I saw what I saw, those princes simply adore your Adrienne."
America stood and stretched, "How could you, Nicoletta? I gave birth to her three weeks ago, you're not going to let me have a full month before trying to scare me with thoughts of boys 'adoring' her?"
"You're right, I'll keep my observations to myself." Nicoletta shrugged.
"Much appreciated." America grinned, amused. "Would you like to get ready for dinner in my rooms, tonight, Nic?"
"That sounds like a lot of fun." Nicoletta grinned down at Adrienne, who was still cooing.
"I'll call for the maids and your things, then." America stood, already attempting to mentally prepare herself for the state dinner ahead.