The Promise: A Maxerica Fanfiction

The Shot

We sat at an ornate table in the center of the great room. Kriss on the left, America on the right, and myself in the center. So far I'd spent the entire time talking to Kriss, partially because I knew it would upset America and partially because there was a lot I didn't know about my future bride. I sat and listened to her recall a time her and her cousin had nearly drowned. I looked around the room, taking in the growing amount of guests and avoided the gaze of the girl who had destroyed me. I couldn't resist though, and as I glanced over I saw her looking at a guard. Her guard, to be exact.

"Trying to arrange a time to meet later?" I asked spitefully.

She whipped her head back. "No, of course not."

"It's not like it matters," I continued coldly, "Kriss's family will be here this afternoon for a small celebration, and yours will be here to take you home. They don't like the last loser to be alone. She tends to get dramatic."

I paused, "You can keep the house if you want. It's been paid for." I added begrudgingly

Then I remembered something else, "I'd like my letters back though." If only so I could burn the wretched things.

"I read them," she whispered, "I loved them."

I huffed. What a joke. "Don't know what I was thinking."

"Please don't do this. Please. I love you." Her face was crumpling.

"Don't. You. Dare." I ordered through gritted teeth. "You put on a smile, and you wear it to the last second."

She attempted to blink away her tears and gave a pathetic smile.

"That'll do. Don't let that slip until you leave the room, do you understand?"

She nodded.

I looked straight into her eyes. "I'll be glad when you're gone." I spat those last words with all of my being.

After wrestling my anger and spite down, I smiled and turned back to Kriss. She was pretending to be admiring the carved armrest on her chair, but her worried expression told me she had heard most, if not all of my conversation with America.

"I'm sorry about that my dear," I said, "I believe you were telling me about your trip to the lake last summer?"

Her expression calmed, and she continued her story.

Kriss had just gotten to the bit about the rope swing when she was abruptly cut off by a gunshot.

I saw Celeste Newsome fall to the ground, blood spilling from her head.

Screams and gunfire erupted around me. I looked for the assailants, and realized the shots were coming from my guards.

Slowly I realized they weren't my guards, just imposters in their uniforms. The only difference between the guards was a strip of red cloth around the rebel guards' foreheads.

Then it clicked.

Rebel guards. This had happened before. I realized that the guards who were sent to the houses of the Selected hadn't abandoned their posts after all. They had been killed, their clothes stolen by the men now standing and shooting around the room.

Kriss screamed and I came back to reality. I tried to calm her down. "Get on the floor," I told her, "We're going to be fine." I refrained from adding "probably" onto the end of the statement.

I thought about our options as Kriss let out another cry. I looked to her and opened my mouth to reassure her when I heard a sharp gasp to my right.

I had forgotten about America. As I turned to look at her I spotted the object of her focus.

A rebel had raised his gun and was pointing it at me.

I turned and locked eyes with America. She looked hurt, and sad, and afraid. My eyes mirrored her own.

There was no time to say anything.

We both turned back to the man in front of us. He had seen our interaction, and a look of amusement crossed his face.

As if he suspected this would be much more entertaining for himself and much more painful for me, he slid his gun ever so slightly to his left and aimed at America.

I didn't have time to process what was happening. By the time I flew across America, it was too late.

The bullet hit her just before I reached her. Time slowed, and I watched as her face froze with shock, and she fell forward.

I hit the ground as she did, and we rolled under the table.

"I got him!" someone shouted, "Find the king!"

The rebel must have assumed the bullet had hit me, rather than America.

If only that was true.

I heard Officer Leger's voice over the commotion, "America!" I turned to where he stood a few feet away.

"Get Kriss!" I cried in his direction.

He looked as if he would object, so I added, "That's an order!"

He clenched his jaw but did as I commanded, taking a bawling Kriss to safety.

Then I remembered whose arm was under me.

I got off the arm and turned slowly, not wanting to see what I knew would be there.

There was America.

Her chest was heaving with each labored breath she took. Right above the base of her rib cage a large crimson stain was blossoming across her sky blue dress.

"America." I said hoarsely. I used my hands to apply pressure to the wound, unsure of what else to do.

She whimpered and her eyes fluttered open.

"Maxon." she breathed.

"I'm so sorry." I choked.

She managed a weak smile, trying to hide the excruciating pain I knew she was in, "For what? I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"Neither did I, but look what happened. I'm so sorry America. If I would have reacted faster –"

"Shhh," she urged, and it seemed ridiculous that she was comforting me. "You have a country to run and responsibilities. I'm just a five who managed to break a prince's heart." She smiled through the pain.

Without a breath, I replied, "Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway."

She smiled but her eyelids were fluttering. "I'll love you until my very last breath. Every beat of my heart is yours. I don't want to die without you knowing that."

"You're not going to die." I said, willing it to be true. "I won't let it happen."

She again lifted the corners of her mouth weakly, but with her blood pooled on the floor, I knew there wasn't anything either of us could do to stop it.

I bent and as our tears mingled, our lips met.

It was every kiss we'd ever had, all the uncertainty, all the hope.

"Don't give up America. I love you. Please don't give up." I sobbed.

She took a shuddering breath, and I knew she wouldn't have the strength for another.

I opened my mouth to beg that she stay with me, but I was cut off as the heavy chair I had been sitting in so long ago crashed to the ground. Before it reached its destination however, it hit me square in the back of the head, and I crumpled to the ground next to my America.