The Royalty

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Three words floated through my head all morning.
Oh. My. God.
Today was the big day. America and I were getting married. Just a few months ago, I'd proposed to her. I'd gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry me. She'd said yes and first thing the next morning, I sent home Kriss and Elise. After that, everything went by in a blur.
One thing, though, I remembered perfectly. That first day. It was probably one of the best days of my life. America had gotten rid of my biggest fear. She'd assured me that I would be a good father, that she believed in me wholeheartedly.
That was one of my favorite things about her. She wouldn't lie to me. Her honesty made me trust her more than I thought possible.
Ever since I announced our engagement, Father has been trying to make me doubt my choice. Every chance he gets, he tries to point out America's flaws, even though she has none that don't make me love her more. The more he tried to change my mind, the more irritated I became with him.
One day, he'd even had the nerve to insult her while she was listening. That was the day I finally stood up to him. America had tried to stop me, she'd been very protective of me since she'd seen the scars on my back, but I'd had enough. Father had to realize that I loved America and there was nothing he could do about it. I loved her so much it was almost all I thought about.
Now, on the day of our wedding, he was still trying to convince me that, as always, I was wrong and he was right. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to stand up to him since that day. Somehow, he'd managed to make himself even more intimidating. So instead of arguing or agreeing, I just nodded to show I was listening, even though I really wasn't. It was too late for him to change my mind.
"Son, just listen to me. That girl is not fit to rule a country. Other girls would better suit the position of princess. I'm sure if you invited that lovely brunette back, she would say yes to a proposal. What was her name again? Kriss?"
I flinched at her name. That was the only girl who could even compare to America. I'd had feelings for her, strong feelings, but I wasn't sure it could be called love. What I felt for America was definitely love. Pure, unadulterated love. I could've learned to love Kriss, but I didn't want to wait for something that should've happened instantly.
"I'm sorry, Father," I said through gritted teeth. I was trying to remain polite even though I was about ready to scream at him. How Mom had fallen for him was unknown to me. "I believe the ceremony is about to begin and you should take your seat."
Father's eyes turned cool as he turned from me and went to sit next to Mom. I noticed him relax as she grabbed his hand. I swear that woman was a saint, considering she was the only one who could pull Father out of a rage. She'd been afraid that I would love her less once I'd found a wife, but she was utterly wrong.
My train of thought was cut off when the large doors opened. Any anger with my father vanished as I was awed from the sudden vision of beauty in front of me. I felt my jaw drop as America entered. She looked absolutely stunning. My heart raced when I met her eyes. Even though they were an icy blue, they were giving me a warm gaze that melted my heart. She blushed when she noticed how astounded I was by her. I loved when she blushed. It showed me a vulnerable side of her that she tried to hide. She really didn't believe she was beautiful even though she pretended to be confident about herself. If only she could see herself through my eyes.
We just sort of stared at each other for a short while. Eventually, America started to make her way down the aisle. Her dress flowed around her as she got closer. Somehow, my heart managed to beat even faster without exploding.
Suddenly, the church's windows shattered and glass shards rained down from above. Screams pierced the air. Men dressed in all black swarmed in from every entrance. Damn it! They were rebels. Southerners by the looks of it, but you could never be sure. We hadn't gotten news of attacks from them in months. I knew they wouldn't stay quiet forever, but why did it have to be today? Why couldn't it be on, I don't know, Tuesday? I'm free Tuesday, but today is my wedding day. Couldn't they just hold off on the attack for a few days and let me have just a little bit of joy for a change?
I called out for the guards that should've been guarding the doors, but eventually remembered that the Southerners were lethal and there was a reason the men weren't coming. I looked around the room, searching for anything that could possibly stop the rebels. Then, I saw something that made my heart stop.
America.
She was standing in the midst of the crowd. She was looking at me, completely terrified. I felt a pain in my chest at the sight of the fear in her eyes. I felt an overwhelming urge to pull her close and tell her it would be alright. I had to get to her; to keep her safe. I ran to her, aching to reach her. America started towards me as well.
When we reached one another, I resisted my desire to pick her up and carry her away from here. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked for injuries. I felt her try to shrink away from me. I pulled back immediately. I did a double take when I saw my hands.
Blood.
Spots of her blood covered my hands from small cuts on her shoulders. Oh, God. She was hurt. I got a little dizzy from the panic.
Then, the anger set in. Those sons of bitches hurt her! I was going to kill them, every single one! I felt murderous as I turned to a rebel nearby.
I stopped when a gentle hand grabbed my arm. America was looking at me pleadingly. "Maxon, no. We need to get everyone out. I'll be fine."
She was right. How was I supposed to protect her if I ended up getting myself killed? I nodded and she took me by the hand, leading me towards a group of people.
We'd almost gotten to the group, when a large, strong hand yanked me away from America. Another man gripped my arm. America swirled around to see what had happened. When I saw her face, I felt renewed strength and struggled to get away from the men. I gave one more attempt and managed to get free.
I ran to her and the rebels followed close behind. Just as I got close, one of the rebels grabbed my suit and pulled me backwards. America lurched forward, desperate to get to me. Her lips landed on mine by accident, but she went with it and kissed me for a moment. I felt my heart break at the hopelessness in her touch. A rebel came out of nowhere, shoving her away and she fell to the ground. The men brought back his foot and kicked America hard in the stomach.
She keeled over, grabbing he stomach. How dare he touch her! She gasped for breath and looked up at me. Her eyes were glazed from tears. I cried out in fury.
I struggled more, but it was no use. More and more men surrounded me. I was pulled from the building kicking and screaming. Before we made it out the doors, I thought I heard America moan my name, her voice filled with pain.
When we made it outside, I'd lost all of my energy. The rebels dragged me along with them. I closed my eyes and prayed that Mom would remember the letter. I don't know how I'd known to write it, but I'm glad I did.
The rebels pulls me along and only stopped when we reached a truck. There were several others nearby. I was pushed into a large metal box connected to the truck that looked like a trailer on the outside, but was empty inside. They closed the door, getting rid of most of the light. I could only see because of small windows on the roof. I rested my head on my knees. My breathing was shaky as I let what had happened sink in. Why did they take me? What would they do to me? My body trembled with fear as the worst scenarios played through my mind.
I wondered what America was doing. I hoped she wasn't crying. I wanted to be there to calm her. I'd gotten better at dealing with crying women since I'd actually cried a few times now. It was not a pleasant experience, except there was one time when they were tears of joy. America had just woken up from her coma. I'd been so filled with relief, that the tears had just flowed out. It was only those kinds of tears that America should ever have to cry.
I wish I could see her. We'd only been apart for less than twenty minutes and I missed her like crazy. I missed her fiery hair. I missed her eyes. Oh God, those eyes. They seemed to be able to read me like a book. I missed her laugh that sounded like everything good in the world all mixed together. I missed the way she kissed me and made me feel like I was the only person she'd ever want to be with.
I reached into my chest pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. It was a picture of her. She hadn't known I'd taken it. In the picture, she was walking around the garden and smiling. Her face was tilted up to the sun and her eyes were closed. She was bundled up in a coat and scarf to keep out the chilly December air. I'd told her to not stay out for long or she would get sick. America had stayed outside for hours, either forgetting or not caring about my warning. Sure enough, the next day she woke up with a cold. I'd scolded her for not listening, but she'd interrupted me. She told me that sometimes good things have consequences and we just have to deal with it and move on. I'd marveled at he for a while before kissing her on the lips. She'd giggled and told that now I'd get sick as well. I replied by mimicking what she'd just told me. Then, we both laughed and spent the next few days getting over our colds together.
I smiled at the memory. I brought my fingers to my lips and then placed them on her cheek in the picture. I let a tear escape my eye as I murmured to he image, "I'm coming back to you, America. I swear it."