I swear, I seriously thought that I had posted this already, but it turns out that I didn't. Oops?
Maxon's side of the story to 'Lies'! I know everyone is dying to know what happened, so here it is!
And okay, I might've lied. I dunno if it's still a three-shot. It might be a four-shot. Then that's pretty much a mini-story, isn't it? I really don't know, it depends on how much my fingers insist on typing :P So, there may be a fourth chapter, but don't count on it.
Happy reading!
•Heartbroken•
Heartbroken. That's how I feel. Heartbroken. This was my dad's plan all along. I was a fool to figure it out. I was too blind to see an evil man's scheme.
"I love you, America Singer. Never forget that. I will find a way so we can be together. Always. Believe me. I love you, America. See you in the morning." Those were my last words to her. I meant it with all my heart. But she doesn't believe me.
This is all my fault. I was too naïve.
And now, I've lost her forever.
…10 hours earlier…
I walk America to her room. "I love you, America Singer. Never forget that. I will find a way so we can be together. Always. Believe me. I love you, America. See you in the morning." I whisper in her ear. Then I leave. I hurry to my father's study. He called this meeting quite unexpectedly. I'm worried, to be honest. Did he catch me doing something wrong again? Will he whip me?
I nervously walk to his office. The guards let me in without hesitation.
"Hello, father," I say.
"Hello, good evening, son," he replies, searching for something among the piles on his desk. "Aha!" he triumphantly exclaims as he pulls out something shiny. A ring. "Maxon, I noticed that you haven't been spending time with Lady Kriss lately. You've always been spending time with that horrible Lady America. How many times do I have to tell you, Lady America is a bad influence? She is reckless, and she will ruin this country, and all my hard work!"
What? Where is he going with this?
"So, go on a date with Kriss. I will be watching you. Give her this ring. Show her that you still care for her, love her. If you don't, I will stage an 'accident' for Lady America. You hear me?" he demands, an ominous warning in his voice as he mentions the 'accident' he will prepare for America.
I nod, and he hands the ring over, into my outstretched palm.
He pushes me out the door. I wince when he hits a soft spot on my back from yesterday's whippings.
I walk to Kriss' room and knock on the door. "Kriss, care to join me on a walk?" I say, offering my arm out to her. She giggles and accepts, wrapping her hands around my bicep.
"You're lucky you came when you did. I was just about to take off my makeup, and I wouldn't want to put it back on again. Oh, but if that did happen, I might've put it back on, since it's you. I look terrible without makeup, really," she says, a light giggle lacing her words, as we walked out of her room. What? Since when did she worry and fuss over her makeup and her looks? I close the door behind her and walk down the hall with her and step outside into the fresh cool air. It's almost completely dark, but the light from inside the palace and lanterns around the palace walls illuminate the path. I choose a nearby bench, sit on it, and gesture Kriss to do the same.
"I'm so glad I get to spend time with you," Kriss says. "I barely ever get to see you or even talk to you for a while now," she adds unhappily, laying her head on my shoulder. I smile and lay my head on top of hers. However, all this time, I am thinking of America, wishing it is her head laying of my shoulder, instead of Kriss'. I immediately feel guilty, of course, because Kriss is a wonderful girl, so sweet, kind, and caring. But she just can't compare to the fiery temper that America possesses.
The night air is brisk and I'm not one bit cold, but still, Kriss slides closer to me. "I'm a bit cold," she says, snuggling closer to me. Her nightgown and robe are kind of thick, but, I guess, judging by the fact that she has lived in Colombia for most of her life, she is used to the warmer winters there than the brisk cold here in Angeles. I wrap my arm around her. I can almost imagine her smile in the dark. We sit silently, like this, for a little while longer. "So …" I say, the silence enveloping us.
"So …" Kriss echoes.
"Well," I chuckle, "Let's start with something simple. How was your day?"
"That's a typical question!" Kriss protests.
"So?" I shoot back.
"It was good," she says finally, quietly. "My maids made a beautiful dress today. I love it! I don't know how they make such wondrous dresses!" I nod my head in agreement. Her dress today was breath-taking. Of course, they can't compare to America's dresses … Ugh! I berate myself for thinking about America again. You're on a date with Kriss, so concentrate! I reprimand myself.
"It's splendid," I say, gazing off towards the distance. "The night really is beautiful, isn't it?" I change the subject.
Kriss sighs with contempt. "Yeah, it is," she says. "The stars are really bright. Back in Colombia, I never saw stars so bright," her voice contains a hint of wistfulness, longing. I guess she misses her home. "Back in Colombia, the stars were just stars, I guess. But here … it's like it's come to life." She pauses, "But it's just because you're here," I can just about hear the smile in her voice.
I laugh. Perfect moment to give her the ring, I decide. "Kriss … look," I say simply, pulling the ring out of my jacket pocket. "Doesn't it shine like the stars?" Wow, I chide myself, that's so cheesy. Even Natalie wouldn't like that. But Kriss' reaction surprises me.
"It's so pretty," Kriss says, looking at the ring in wonder.
"It's for you," I say, setting the ring onto her outstretched palm. She squeals with delight. "You can keep it,"
"'May'," she corrects me, laughing. I groan. "Maxon, you should know this! It's proper and basic English! Have you not learned anything from Silvia?"
"Ugh, close enough," I fake a pout. "And hey, I have learned quite a lot from Silvia, of course. I learned to be sexy," I say with a smirk, striking a pose.
Kriss slaps me lightly on the arm, while she attempts to keep a straight face. "A prince never says or does vulgar and inappropriate things," she says, echoing Silvia's words, and pretends to look cross with me. Her face betrays her as a smile breaks across her face. A slight rustle blows across the trees. The wind lifts Kriss' hair and blows it around, like it's dancing. "I'm warm now, thanks to you," she adds.
"Anything for my dear," I say, kissing her forehead. I know that I may be over-doing it but, who knows? My father may have spies watching us. I have to act the part, although Kriss really is a lovely girl. "Promise me, Kriss, that you will wear it always," I add, indicating the ring.
"Of course, Maxon," she says. Suddenly, she gasps. "Wait, are you saying…?!" Oh. Realization dawns on me. I repeat my words in my head, and I can see how misleading that sounds.
"You'll have to wait and see. "My father says I need one more elimination before I can propose to one of you. And as for who it is, if I have chosen already, I'm not going to give it away." I lower my voice down to a hushed whisper. "And besides, I'm giving all the Elite a gift; yours just happens to be a ring," I explain, hoping Kriss can't see through my white lie. "You just happened to get it first." I wish America got the ring. Curse my father.
She nods, comprehending.
We spend the rest of the date talking about random things, our friends, and even Rebel attacks. "I really don't like them," she said, blowing on her hands, to keep them warm. "I mean, who knows? You can die at that very attack." I nodded, and we both agreed that Rebel attacks are useless and that probably their only purpose of existence is to scare the living crap (to which Kriss said, "A prince never swears or curses!") out of every single one of us—maids, guards (who risk their lives to save us—they should be scared of them, right?), the Selected, the royals; everyone.
"Well, Lady Kriss, it's getting rather late, and I suggest that you retire to your room soon," I say, standing up. Kriss repeats the motion. I offer my arm to her, and that's how we walk back to the palace, up to her room. "Goodnight, my dear," I say, and hug her, due to the fact that she doesn't want me to kiss her. Not yet, anyway. The other Elite are okay about it, just not her.
"Good night, Maxon," she replies softly, smiling at me, and closes the door. I walk away and, upon arrival to my room, breathe out a sigh of relief.
I wake up with the sun in my eyes. Oh, right. I left my curtains open before I retired to bed. Groaning, I stumble over to yank the blinds shut to I can return back to sleep. My long-time maid, Winnifred, enters just as I prepare to pull the covers over me once more. "Oh! You're up!" she exclaims, surprised.
"No, I'm not," I mumble groggily, pulling the covers over my head.
"Yes, you are, Prince Maxon," she says, struggling to pull the blankets away from my grasp. "You'll have to get up anyway, sooner or later, so why not do it sooner? You only have ten minutes left, that's not a lot," she points out.
I groan again. She has a good point. Then I try to use an America tactic with her. "But, Winnifred, the blankets has accepted me as one of their own, and if I leave now, I might lose their trust!"
My maid laughs. "Up, up, up, Your Highness," she insists.
I sigh, knowing that I'm beaten, and drag myself to the bathroom to wash and get dressed. I go down to breakfast, where the Elite are seated. Kriss, Elise, Natalie, and … no America. Wait … her spot is just completely gone … no chair, no plate, no cutlery … just nothing. What?
Probably noting my confused expression, my father says, "Maxon, America left this morning." His voice sounds neutral, but underneath, I know him well enough, to defect that it is filled with subtle glee. What? How? Why? Millions of questions are running through my mind. But one stands out: Why did she leave me? It can't be true. A dozen emotions rushes through me. Silently, I place the fork back onto the plate. Looking that the food reminds me of America. Oh, how she loves food!
"I will eat breakfast in my room," I quietly say, and I walk out of the massive dining hall. I trudge up the stairs and push the door leading to my room open. I shut the door behind me and I sit on the bed, stunned. Why? Why did she leave me? Why, why why? I bury my face into my hands. I don't cry, but I want to. But I can't. My tears have left me. A hesitant knock comes, and reluctantly, after confirming that I am presentable and my sorrow is not evident on my face, I open the door, and find—Lucy, I think her name is?—at my door.
"Your Majesty," she says quietly. "Here is your requested breakfast,"
I sigh, and nods a thanks to her. "Please put it on my nightstand," I say. I am in no mood to be polite. Not when my love is gone to who-knows-where. Lucy places the tray on the designated location, and walks out. I reach over and pull the tray into my lap. A white folded piece of paper is underneath my bowl of fruit. My heart beats faster, hoping that it is from America. Stupid,I mentally chide myself. She's gone, you idiot. Why would she write a letter to you? Although, deep down, I know that she isn't coming back, a small sliver of me still continues to dream. I unfold the letter, and lo and behold … it's from America. "Maxon," I read.
Maxon,
You don't have to figure out who you want to choose as the next Queen of Illéa. I hope that you have a great life with Kriss—
At this point the letter tumbles out of my hand. I don't bend down to retrieve it. America thinks that I want to marry Kriss?! Sure, I don't deny it. She's nice, smart, and pretty. But all of her features are enhanced on the one I love, the one who got away—America. Although it kills me, I force myself to bend down, the up the paper, and keep on reading.
I hope that you have a great future, wonderful children, and that you will never forget us—those in the Selection. Not Marlee, who got caned for being with who she loved; not Natalie, who left to grieve for her lost sister; no one. I believe that you will remember my request, although I am no longer in the selection: dissolve the Castes. Please. I believe, entirely, that you will make a great king. The citizens of Illéa will be lucky to have you, and to have Kriss rule by your side.
Her tone drastically changes.
Enough with this pleasant, sappy, typical chit-chat. I know you lied to me. Don't deny it. I saw it all.
Saw what all? I am confused.
In case you suddenly got amnesia, let me give you a quick recap. You lied. You said that you had a meeting with your father. What a nice meeting it was, huh?
My heart plummets. I have a bad feeling about this. I can just about hear her anger intensify.
You liar. Your excuse for a meeting was a date with Kriss. I saw it all! I can't believe it. I fell for your trick—it was a jest all along, was it? I saw you give that ring to Kriss. I saw the entire thing unfold. Don't deny it.
Her anger, I can tell, starts to die down at this point.
Honestly, if you told me straight up that you didn't feel anything between us instead of lying and playing with my heart all this time, I would've taken the news a little better. Treat my heart that way, fine. Treat my country that way, you'll regret it. Dissolve the Castes. It is vital to the majority of the population.
So, I guess this is it. Goodbye, Maxon.
~America Singer
"Guards!" I scream as I reach the end of the letter. "Bring me to the Angeles Airport. I need to find America." I hope I am not too late.
…7 months later…
She was gone. I was too late. I arrived at the airport mere minutes after her departure. Reluctantly, at my father's insistence, I married Kriss Ambers. She will be Queen of Illéa one day. But I still wish that it was America. Kriss knows that I miss her. She feels useless, and like a 'back-up plan', because, really, she knows that my heart still belongs to America. She tries to lift my spirit—and hers, too. I try my best to love her, but I just can't help but long for America's fire. I can't fully love my wife with my heart. I try, but … it's too hard. America has taken up such a large portion of my heart. But she's gone for good, anyhow.
She's engaged to Officer Leger, her friend from Carolina.
I couldn't help but be furious at him when they announced it, proudly, one evening at dinner, but I had to remind myself that I was in no position to rage.
As I walk up to our suite, I notice Kriss sitting on the bed, wistfully gazing at the pictures of the Selected. I hate to see my dear so sad, and I understand that Kriss misses her friends from the Selection. I try to comfort her, and to her delight, I suggest that the Selected and her friends from Colombia can have a week-long stay at the Palace, kind of like a reunion. She brightens up at once, and her joy fills the room. She flings her arms around my neck, gratefully exclaiming, "Thank you, Maxon!"
"Anything for you, my dearest," I say. Even though I still love America, I love Kriss. She is my wife, after all … it's just that not all of it belongs to Kriss. It is torn between two women, both whom I love equally.
She looks at me, her brown eyes searching mine. "Maxon," she starts, gently, "I know you still miss America." She sighs. "I wish I can help you somehow. I feel so … helpless when I can't comfort you."
I enfold her in my arms. "I'm trying, I promise," I say, soothing her and stroking her hair. "One day, I know that I will be able to love you entirely." I sigh. "Just … not now."
Kriss nods, slowly. Not long afterwards, I feel her drift off to sleep in my arms, her head rested again my front. I carefully place her onto our bed, and walk out of the room. I head to my father's office, and firmly knock three times. "Come in!" I hear him call, pleasantly, and I shudder, disgusted. How is it that is monster, this coward of a man, can sound so pleasant, yet be so evil; evil to the point of whipping his own son, drawing the blood of his own son, the son that he bore?
I push the doors open, and walk in. My father looks at me, eyebrows raised. "So, Maxon, what is it?" he asks me.
Wow, the story itself is 3007 words! (Not counting the A/N's!) That's a record. :)
Reviews:
The Queen Reader: LOL THAT FIRST SENTENCE OMG XD Thank my friend for the fluff … although we both got in trouble for writing that … yea … I seriously hope it was worth it :) And true … that'd be extremely awkward … yea … AUGH I LOVE THE BONUS EPILOGUE THINGY! Thanks!
LeftByTheGalaxy (guest): New reviewer! Yay! Haha, so good, I'm not the only one who looks at other people's reviews. Awe, thanks, I love yours too :) I actually got the idea for my name from one of my favourite songs, called Astronaut by Simple Plan. Go listen to it, if you want. I think you'll like it. And awe, thanks for the compliment :) AUGH I LOVE PJO/HOO! A lot of my guy friends hate it so I was like, "Whatever, screw you, I'm reading this!" I have to admit, I actually never heard of Panic! At the Disco. And YAAAS Solangelo, Caleo, Tratie, and Percabeth! TFIOS … don't get me started. It's the only book/move in the universe that made me bawl … And you should totally get a account. Just a suggestion *hint hint*. !
TheSelectionr0x: New reviewer! Yey! Yea, America's awesome, right?! Thanks!
RQOTD: Do you put marshmallows into your hot chocolate?
Answer to RQOTD (chapter 13): Uh … that was around two and a half months ago … I don't remember! I'm fairly sure I did, though :)
Answer to RQOTD (chapter 12): I realized that I never answer chapter 12's question. And weirdest nickname? Potato. Just … don't even ask. Even I don't know that whole story :/
Thanks for reading!
-K