America and Maxon-New Baby!(my version)

America's POV

"She's beautiful," Maxon whispers, with a tangible awe flooding his voice. He cradles my new daughter in his arms with a gentleness that suggests he's afraid to so much to much as rock her in his arms for fear of breaking her tiny body. He lowers his lips to her forehead and kisses her briefly but in that one moment I see the overwhelming love of a new father. He smiles down at her lovingly, his eyes growing magnified with the sparkle of joyful tears.

"Can I hold her?" I say tentatively, not wanting to interrupt him but also aching, yearning to lay my hands on the child I've carried for nine months. Maxon merely nods but it's not out of sadness. He doesn't trust his voice to speak so he communicates to me with the simple and universal language of the genuine smile. "Thank you."

Maxon carries the girl over to the side of the bed in which I am lying and lowers his arms to me and carefully places my daughter in my arms.

Immediately my heart surges with even more love than before and I am positive it is going to burst. How is it possible one heart can hold so much love? Now I know what women mean when they descirbe the irreplacable love of a mother for her child. Holding this pecious new girl in my arms, I want nothing more than to love and protect her against the world, against evil, against anything that might threaten to break her. Because if she breaks, I break, if she cries, I cry.

The baby lifts her small, chubby arms and waves them in the air emphatically. She turns her huge, brown eyes, identical to Maxon's and focuses them on me. Her eyes hold mine and nothing else matters, only this girl and me. And I know by the way she holds my gaze that she feels the same way.

She opens her toothless mouth, displaying her pink, healthy gums. She shakes her head, breaking our gaze and makes a sound that can only be comprehended as, "Abbvubuh." I laugh and so does Maxon, who now lowers himself to sit beside me on the bed. Her little rosy lips pucker and she blows raspberries that dribble down her chin when the bubbles pop. Her cheeks are gorgeous, like someone smeared a pink coloured juice on them, they are bright with a natural blush that somewhat clashes with the tiny tuft of ginger hair on her head.

"What should we call her?" Maxon asks quietly. Neither of us want to talk too loudly, like if we do, we'll ruin this moment. And neither of us want that.

We had discussed names before but could never decide on anything. Everything we came up with was either too grand or too simple. But we will have to decide quickly, the media will be longing to know.

"What do you think?"

Maxon shakes his head with uncertainty. "I don't know what you'll think, but..." He trails off.

"What?" I answer fanatically. "Tell me!" He smiles again and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I was thinking about, well, Blossom." He pauses then jumps back in, his words melding together in haste. "I don't know if you'll like it and it is fine if you don't it was just that I wasthinkingaboutitandithoughtitwasnicebutyoudon'thavetoagreeitwasjustatho-" I stop him.

"I love it."

"You do?" He seems surprised by this but he shouldn't be.

"Yes, I love it. It's perfect." I look down at my little girl and rock her from side to side in my arms. Blossom. My little bundle of blossoming joy.

Maxon releases a sigh that makes me think maybe he thought he was in for another argument over baby names. "Hello, Blossom," he lauds. Blossom makes another incomprehendable noise and we both laugh.

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. Maxon nods to me and heaves himself off the bed, making his way to the door. The empty space beside me immediately feels colder without him but I cuddle Blossom closer to me and peck her on the cheek, then the nose and forehead, covering her with my love.

Maxon opens the door a crack and peers into the hall. I hear a few whispers from his direction, then Maxon opens the door and Mary walks in. When she sees me she squeals with delight and runs to me and Blossom with enthusiasm not seen much before.

"Oh, my! She... She... She is just... Beautiful!" she gushes. "She's got your eyes," she addresses Maxon, then me, "And your hair! Oh she is positively gorgeous!"

A few more knocks come at the door and I swivel my head around in time to see May bound inside and stop dead in her tracks before sprinting over to me with more mirth than any other teenager I've ever seen. Mom, Dad, Kenna and her husband, Kota and Gerad follow behind along with Amberly and Clarkson. After a second, Aspen comes in too with his arm around Lucy's waist. They're expecting their first in two months time. Each of them wear identical masks of pure happiness as they approach me. Maxon reclaims his seat beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulder protectively, and places a gentle hand on mine, helping me to support our daughter.

No one speaks for a few minutes, simply taking in the new addition to our family. Then May blurts out, splitting the silence, "What's her name?" and everyone erupts in a fit of giggles. And the silence is broken. Everyone begins to shout out congratulations and asks if they can hold her and May continues to persist, asking my girl's name. Maxon holds up a hand and silences them when Blossom begins to wail but she soon stops when we hold her close.

"Her name is Blossom," he and I say simultaneously.

"Can I hold her?" Each of the women say before laughing again.

First I hand Blossom to Amberly who gasps with wonder. She always did want another child and I'm glad to be able to give her a granddaughter, even if it isn't her own. Amberly tenderly carresses Blossom's cheek with a single, gentle finger and passes her onto Mom.

Her eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over and Dad wraps his arms around her, his eyes also brimming with salt water. May coughs impatiently and Mom gives Blossom to her. "Make sure you support her head," I warn when I see the awkward angle at which May is precariously holding my child. Mom and Amberly help her to adjust positions. Lucy and Aspen approach and stand either side of May, gazing down at the precious baby in her arms and probably dreaming about their own soon to come.

"Dad," Maxon addresses Clarkson. His head snaps up from where his eyes where rivetted to the floor. Maxon gestures for him to come closer.

He moves slowly at first, almost like a kid being dragged along to school but picks up the pace fast enough. Maxon takes Blossom from May and Mary helps him to place her in Clarkson's arms. He draws back just before she is settled and Mary has to catch a grip on her before she has a chance to fall.

"What's wrong?" Maxons says, hurt washing over his features.

"I... I..." The king stammers. He looks around nervously when he realises that everyone in the room is staring at him, eyes fixated upon the scene. "I don't want to hurt her." He says quietly.

Maxon's eyes soften and I know there is more meaning behind those words than either of them let on. "You won't, Father." Maxon declares it with entire conviction.

Clarkson lifts out his hands again hesitantly and Mary lays my daughter in his arms. Clarkson chuckles and a wide grin stitches itself across his face and I am sure I have never seen him smile like that. He glances proudly at his son, back to his new granddaughter and then to me.

"Thank you," he beams with gratitude.

I lose track of everything that is going on after a while. Maxon sits beside me and I lean my head on his shoulder. Blossom is passed to various hands and a few camera men enter the room to get footage of the future queen of Illèa. The whole place is filled with smiles, tears and the most beautiful music of all: laughter. I can't help but store away in the most special place in my mind and heart, that this is way happiness is. Happiness is love and kindness, gentleness and trust, beauty and laughter. Blossom has already brought so much joy to this family and I know that someday, she'll do the same for her country.