The Royalty

Chapter 5

My Valentine's Day chapter! I know it's late, but I've been busy. Sorry an hope you like it! <3


Chapter 5

Gabriel hadn't talked to me since our fight and I hadn't tried to apologize. Maybe I was throwing a mini tantrum, but I didn't want to admit I was wrong, even though I was. Gabe hadn't talked to me for three weeks and I was going a little insane. Not having someone to talk to was taking its toll on me. I was growing agitated and I always seemed to have an urge to punch something.

He was right about the picture. I had so many things that connected me to my life. I had memories. Memories that reminded me of how much I was cared for-another thing that Gabriel was right about. Some people didn't even have that much and I just took it for granted. I should just apologize, I thought. I'm being dumb.

I got to my feet and moved to the door. "Gabriel!" I called through the door. "I'm sorry. I was being stupid. Can you come in here so we can talk?" There was no answer. I sighed and pounded on the door. I knew he was there, but he was obviously upset with me.

"Gabe, come on. Please come in. I just want to talk. I know you're out there."

I heard him sigh and the handle started turning. I stepped back and he walked in, scowling. I gave him a half smile and he ran a hand through his dark hair. "You're sorry?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied honestly.

"Thank God!" He exclaimed happily, his scowl turning into a gigantic grin. "Do you know how boring it is to just stand there? I was just about to come in here and try to talk. For some reason I missed talking to you."

"You missed me because I'm your friend, Gabriel," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Huh, who would've thought? A rebel and the prince becoming friends?"

I laughed and he slapped me on the shoulder playfully. It felt nice to finally have my friend back.


A few hours later, I sat there in my cell; smiling because things were starting to look up again. Erika had been here only once since Leger made that video, my cuts were almost healed, my jaw wasn't nearly as bruised as it used to be, and Gabriel and I were back on good terms. The only thing wrong was that I missed America so much that it was like a constant ache and I couldn't get it to go away.

I wondered how she was doing. Hopefully, she was better than me. Not that I'd ever admit it, but I cried a few times when I was alone. I couldn't help it. Seven weeks away from her and I was feeling like I wanted to die. I remember that first time I spoke to her. America had looked so beautiful under the moonlight, even though tears had been streaming down her face. Her voice had been like music to my ears and it felt like my world was finally complete. She'd taken my breath away. That feeling I'd felt hadn't gone away. Not once. It had only grown stronger from the moment we'd met until the day I'd gotten down on one knee and asked her to be my wife.

I felt myself start to shiver. I wasn't sure if it was from the ever-present cold in my cell or from my breaking heart. I had to constantly remind myself that everything would be okay. America was safe and as long as that was true, I knew I'd make it through this. I would get back to the palace, America and I would get married, and we'd start a family like I'd dreamed of since I realized I loved her.

I heard the jingle of keys outside of the door. It was probably just Gabriel coming in for an afternoon chat. The door opened and I looked up. I took a startled breath as a girl's hooded figure was pushed to the ground. Locks of familiar, fiery red hair spilled out from underneath the hood.

Oh no.

It couldn't be. She couldn't be here. She was supposed to stay safe. This couldn't be real. That was it. This was a dream. America wasn't here. No, she was back at the palace where there were guards protecting her.

Even though I was sure this was a dream, my jaw still dropped in shock. She ripped off the hood and looked around. Her eyes landed on me and I felt paralyzed. They were wide and disbelieving. Her face was so familiar, yet so different at the same time. Something had changed in her appearance but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

America looked so real, but this had to be a dream. I wouldn't be able to handle it if she was actually here.

She got to her feet, wiping off her cute, little white sundress. America came to sit next to me and I instinctively put my arm around her. Little shocks ran through my skin. She was so warm and... real. This wasn't a dream. America was actually here.

"What are you doing here, love?" I asked, holding back tears. I could hear the sadness in my voice. Any happiness from earlier was completely gone with not a trace of it left.

"Trying to decided if this is a nightmare or not," America replied softly. Her voice only broke my heart even more. I put my hand against the soft skin of her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into my hand. I'd missed her so much and I'd nearly forgotten how amazing she made me feel.

"I missed you, Maxon."

I wanted to speak, to tell her I'd missed her too, but my voice was caught in my throat. I felt so overwhelmed with my emotions that I was unable to form words. All I could do was stare at her, wondering how someone could look so perfect.

America leaned in hesitantly, as if she was wondering whether I'd allow her to kiss me. Of course I'd never turn her down. I met her lips carefully; it had been so long since we'd done this and I guess I was a little scared. What if I messed up and did something stupid? What if she didn't love me anymore and this kiss just proved it to her? It felt like that first kiss all over again. Why was I so nervous?

My doubts disappeared after half of a moment. All of those feelings I'd kept pent up inside of me burst out all at once and I had no control over it. I gave America a deep kiss that I hoped expressed how much I'd missed her and how much I loved her.

I tasted salt on my lips and I was surprised to realize it was the taste of tears. Was she crying? Was I? It was both of us. We were so overcome by the happiness at being reunited and the horribleness of being held captive in a cold, dirty, remote rebel compound.

We both pulled away reluctantly and I rested my hands on her hips. America put her forehead against mine and I let out a content breath.

One thing was nagging at me, though. Something about America was different. I wasn't sure what. It was something about her figure had changed. I tightened my grip on her waist. Her hip bones jutted out immensely against my palms. America had lost weight. A lot of weight. She looked to be about twenty pounds under what she should be.

"America," I asked, trying to be gentle but my confusion and worry leaked into my voice. "Why are you so thin?"

I felt her tense and look up at me under lowered lashes, almost like she was ashamed. I looked over her, taking in every detail. Her hair was limp from lack of care and nourishment. America's skin was pale, as if she had spent hardly any time in the sun. There were bags under her eyes and she looked so... tired. So incredibly tired.

"What happened to you, America?" I asked. A flash of anger passed through her eyes and she got to her feet. My heart ached a little bit at being separated from her, even if it was only by a few feet. We'd been apart far too long as it was and I didn't want to ever be away from her, not even by an inch.

She shouted at me and I tried not to flinch. "Damn it, Maxon! What do you think happened to me? Try having the love of your life ripped away. All I had was a letter telling me to 'stay strong'. That is almost impossible when you're going out of your mind with worry! Then, try having your ex- boyfriend send you a video of him torturing your fiancé! He asks for one stupid diary and your fiancé's father refuses! Also, try having to go through the night, hoping to get some sleep, but your mind makes up the worst scenarios and you end up crying yourself to sleep."

America seemed to be more frustrated with our situation than angry with me. I knew that, but I was still a little stunned. Is that really what she'd gone through? I thought I'd had the worst part, but obviously not. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live with constant worry and uncertainty about someone you love. I don't think I'd be able to bare watching as they suffered while wishing you could take their place, just to end their suffering; even if it meant bearing their pain yourself.

She slid to the ground and rested her head on my shoulder. I felt her anger slip away as she slowed her breathing back down to normal. In a much kinder, gentler voice she said, "I didn't want to eat. Not if you were here, probably starving. Sometimes picturing you here, made me lose my appetite. I never went out to the garden. Not once. It felt wrong going without you.The only time I ever slept was when I was in your room. Your mom told me I could go in. It made me feel close to you. It was the only place we'd never made a memory in, so none came flooding back as I closed my eyes. Sleep never brought comfort, though. I haven't had a real dream in almost two months. All I get are nightmares. So that, Maxon, is what happened to me."

America's body started to tremble and she pulled away from me, putting her head down on her knees. Her hair fell down around her like a beautiful red curtain. She seemed so fragile and vulnerable and I just wanted to hold her close and tell her that everything would be alright. Something told me, however, that America wouldn't take kindly to that right now. I settled for gently brushing aside her hair and resting my hand on her bare knee. I lightly traced patterns on her skin and it took a few minutes for me to realize that I was spelling out the words I'M SORRY.