We arrived at the palace a little after twelve in the night. Mom was waiting for us, and no sooner she saw us than she gave up her queen persona and shortened the distance, embracing us tightly. "You both got me worried!" She muttered, glaring at us.

Dad laughed. "Sort of misunderstanding, but we're here now."

Mom laughed as well and welcomed us home. She drank coffee with us—we were well rested and didn't feel any sleepy due to jetlag—and heard all about our experiences and tales we had to offer. Dad gifted her a platinum comb studded with diamonds and I have her the shawl. "It's lovely." She told us, accepting our gifts.

After one, when Dad announced it was late, we all retired in our rooms. There, waiting for me, were two letters.

One on the bed, waiting for me in the same old fashion I've come to be eager to read and also despise at the same time. From the Northern rebels. Just as usual, a golden letter was sitting in a silver envelope, FROM THE NORTH written on the top in now familiar calligraphy, the O in North drawn as a eight-pointed star.

Opening the letter, I read it.

My prince,

It has been such a long time since we have last talked, or rather exchanged letters.

I thought some time will you give you enough perspective to see things clearly. We have never done anything to harm anyone, least of them being you or our may-be-future-queen. The fact that you even think that we'll do any such thing is ludicrous in itself.

We're not going to explain you on our actions—we will continue doing it till we find what we're looking for. But we can promise you one thing: no one will be harmed by our actions.

We know you've been to New Asia, and now you can see why we were pressuring you as well to select as fast as possible. We want the best for the people of our country, and many things are now reliable on your shoulders.

This is not a happy burden, but a burden nonetheless. A burden I could never hold, but want to help you by sharing the load.

This is all so much to take in, but there is still so much you don't know about. Some things that you should know—things that you'll try to rectify. We want to help you. We do.

Think about it. We won't stop trying to find what we need, also we won't stop trying to reach you. Because we know we need you as much as you need us. You just don't know that, yet.

From a rebel to the future the country needs.

From a brother to another.

I read it again, and again, trying to make sense of what they were hinting at, what they meant. Did they know about New Asia and the fake war threats? And what were they trying to find? And what did they mean by things that I don't know about? And why do they always say a brother to another?

What was I missing?

But one thing was sure. The Northern rebels were good people—it was my gut feeling. There may be things I didn't know about—I'd just seen the proof of it in the last week—but still they were sticking to me because they believed in me. I knew it was a wrong thing, to have support of rebels, but it felt good that there were people who believed in me even when I hadn't been able to prove my worth to them.

Dumping the paper in the fire, after committing each and every word thoroughly to my memory, I went to the next letter that was seated on my desk. A usual white envelope with my address. I had a gut feeling it was from America's Father, which proved to be true. He'd answered my letter. I'd thought he wouldn't, not after what he saw and after what happened and with his daughter. But he did.

Opening the envelope, I slid out a artist's textured paper out.

Dear Maxon

(I hope you don't mind me referring you as a dear as you'd come to me for advice.)

It was so nice to hear from you after so long, I hope everything and everyone is fine.

Just like you, I wouldn't go for nice talks when there is something itching you.

Yes, what happened with and to Marlee was something I'd never seen or heard. May was deeply shaken and hadn't recovered from the nightmares still. But I also understand the precariousness of being at such a position and not being able to help. I've met you just once, but my experience with people is excessive to know that you deeply regret you weren't able to help your Elite. I'll say this is a start.

About giving you an advice, I am glad that you turned to me for some insight and help, even when you know what I'd give you would be biased. I'll always be honoured with the trust you've bestowed me with.

I know America wouldn't be fine. She is feisty when it comes to one whom she loves, so I'm not shocked to hear you both have hit a rock.

America, despite being young, had already become an adult women due to what she'd seen and been through as a Five. Not able to help her friend even if she could must have stuck a chord for her. I know she hears the echoes of it still now. I think I know you do as well.

America can be a child sometimes. She is spontaneous, doesn't think through everything and makes some decisions rashly and in hurry that they may hurt others. She had told me everything about you—how supportive you were towards her, how good and unlike anything she'd thought about. You're right assuming that Marlee's punishment became the catalyst.

But you don't get to choose these things. You are a prince as well, ready to choose a princess for yourself and a queen for the country. This is something that America needs to realise and know she can't choose pieces of you for herself and leave the rest. You're a whole package, Maxon. Either there is whole or none, not anything in between.

As of America not being ready to be a princess, I know my daughter well to claim she'll feel that way till it actually happens. She'll try to find a loophole so it becomes easy to run out. She's trying to do the same thing here. She is stubborn as hell, and she isn't good at making changes. She needs time to sort everything right out, but she also needs you to remind her what she is giving up.

I know you make her happy, my son. I've seen the evidence on her face.

I'm not telling you all this because you're a prince, but because I've seen how she looks at you. She loves you, Maxon, she just doesn't know it yet. You don't need words to express your feelings. I've seen you with her—I can't choose anyone else for my baby.

So, as an answer, I can give you just one advice: give her time to sort things out in her head, but not enough space she finds a need to runaway. Show her what she's ready to give up, but also give her the reason to choose you. Make her come back to you, but on the terms that what she'll be getting is the whole package deal. There are things she needs to accept, one of them being you.

I want both of you to be tremendously happy—and I can't wait that to happen. Because I know you'll work it out. You both will. And I can't wait for that day when you'll send me another letter saying how happy you are.

With all my best wishes and regards,

Shalom Singer.

I took his words in, reading it once more and then again. What he'd said were the things I've already known. About America and her traits, and also how should I approach it. Mom had given me the same advice.

What stuck me though was the son. He'd called me his son, accepted me so easily in his family. He'd claimed it was because of how I feel for her daughter, not because of whom I am. Though I've seen her only once, I knew it was true. Shalom Singer loved his daughter to flaws, and the fact that he accepted me so easily as one of the most important person in her life was flattering.

My mind was now a mess, shifting through the things I've read and learnt in no more than ten minutes.

Not feeling sleepy anymore, I took my favourite out of my camera shelf and decided to catch up on my photography. I took my camera and went in the gardens where I knew no one will disturb me.

Illéa was a beautiful country but it's beauty enhanced during the night when the silence blanketed it. The stars shone overhead as my only audience as I clicked the photos of everything I found amusing or beautiful.

I heard a pfft and looked around for the sound. It came once again. Looking around thoroughly, I found light flickering from the second floor. A figure stood in the balcony, waving her hands to grab my attention, her red hair flowing down her shoulders and lifting with the slight wind.

Seeing America standing here, maybe waiting for me, lifted my mouth in a big smile as I waved her back.

She tugged on her ear. I did the same. She pointed a finger to me and then to her room, and I understood she wanted me to be with her. Showing her one finger, I asked her for a minute. At her nod, I nodded and went in the palace once again. Once in the second floor, I changed my mind and climbed the other flight of stairs as well and made my way to my room. The bracelet I'd purchased for her was gracing my drawer with it's presence. Fetching it, and in the second thought carrying my camera as well, I made my way down—to her.

I hadn't visited her late night since Halloween. Before that we always met in the late night especially on Fridays, and told each other everything that came to our mind. Since the last three weeks or so there have been no late night walks or talks—not with her. Sure there had always been Kriss, trying to fill a void she hadn't a clue America had left, but it wasn't the same with her.

Kriss was a sweetheart, sure, but she was like a lake. Always settled. There was no newness in there. Nothing exciting to keep the charm. On the other hand America was like a sea. Always running, never settling. There was exhilaration when I was with her. Everything was exciting because it was nothing I'd expected. Everything new.

Trying to calm myself and not making it more than it was, I took a deep breath. Maybe Father was right. Distance might have worked wonders for us. Bring everything in perspective for her. Sure it did for me—I was never so sure that I could be happier with anyone but America, but being away from her made it clear that that wasn't the case.

Without her I may go on, but there would never be a destination to reach. I'd always wander, never settle, no matter with whom I'd start my journey.

She may not be my whole world, but she meant the world to me. She may never be in my life, but without her it wouldn't be a life in the first place.

I was still thinking all these as I reached her door and knocked once. No sooner I did this than America was opening the door for me, letting me in. Not giving her a chance to prepare herself, I clicked a photo of her. She was shocked but then recovered and gave me a look which said retribution. I clicked a photo of that as well.

Still glaring at me, she held my arm and tried to drag me in, commanding: "You're ridiculous. Get in here."

"Sorry," I said, not sorry at all, following her in. "I couldn't resist."

Glaring at me behind her shoulder, her face lit with the smile she was trying to suppress. She wore an almost white nightgown with a blue robe on it, her hair falling down her shoulders in fiery waves.

Her smile made my exhaustion evade.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she muttered in an accusatory tone, "You took your time."

"I had to stop by my room." Sitting beside her on her bed I made myself comfortable and put the camera on a bedside table, beside a jar. The jar she'd claimed was hard to explain. There was a single penny in there, still stuck at the bottom. So much had changed since the first time. Could she explain my relationship with her as the same?—hard to explain.

She bit her lip, clearly thinking me with the jar that held the memories of her ex. Did she miss him? Did she compare me with her?

Had he tried to reach her?

Did she?

"So how was your trip?"

I shrugged. "Odd. We ended up going to the rural part of New Asia. Father said it was some local dispute; but by the time we got there, everything was fine." Or as fine he could say given I had no idea about his strategies. "Honestly, it made no sense. We spent a few days walking through old cities and trying to speak to the natives. Father is quite disappointed with my grasp of the language and is insisting I study more. As if I'm not doing enough these days."

I shook my head in resignation, a sigh escaping me. There were so many thingse to do, so many things people were expecting of me, but only me to look after all these.

I wanted a small reprieve out of this.

And who better than the one who had slowly and gradually become my sanctuary?

"That is kind of strange." She mumbled, scrunching her nose.

"I'm guessing it was some sort of test. He's been throwing them at me randomly lately," looking back I realised how true was that—Marlee's caning, showing whom I cared for most, not letting America have the best of me, the guests and now New Asia. "and I don't always know they're happening. Maybe this was about decision making or dealing with the unexpected. I'm not sure." I shrugged my shoulders. "Either way, I'm sure I failed." Like always when it comes to him.

An unfamiliar silence filled the space between us. A thing which had never happened before.

After a minute, I told her, "He also really wanted to talk about the Selection. I think he felt like distance would do me good, give me perspective or something." As if that could have worked, ever. "Honestly, I'm tired of everyone else talking about a decision that I'm supposed to make."

At first it was just father, then the Southern rebels trying to end the Selection soon which made the Northern rebels demand of me to Select one as soon as possible. And now, to end the war with New Asia, I have more pressure on me than ever.

Why couldn't everyone leave my Selection out and not make it a public thing.

I cleared my throat. This wasn't time to think about all this. I was finally having a civilized conversation with America and I didn't want to ruin it.

Pulling out the bracelet, I presented it in front of her. "As I said, we were walking through a bunch of towns, and I saw this in an old woman's street shop. It's blue. You seem to like blue."

"I love blue." She said the obvious in a whisper.

"I didn't find anything for anyone else," I told her, a small smile playing on my lips looking at her, "so maybe you could keep this between us?" She nodded. "You never were the type to brag." Which was what made everything between us special. The others, if what I knew was true, told each other everything and maybe even exaggerated. She never did that. Everything between us was always something special. A secret of ours.

She was still staring at the bracelet while I just looked at her. She had no make-up on, her red hair as fiery as her eyes were sparkling like a shallow sea. There were small circles beneath her eyes showing how less rested she was, just like me; her freckles highlighted in the light of the room. She hadn't put anything special on for meeting me—something I admired the most about her. And her lips...they were parted in astonishment as she looked at the bracelet in my hands. I wanted to taste them, again, and whisper things that I had never told anyone.

Trying to distract my mind from these thoughts, I wiggled the bracelet in my hands and her laughter was a pure melody I hadn't heard in such a long time.

"Do you want me to put it on?"

As an answer she stretched her left hand out. I placed the bracelet on the wrist of it's owner and tied the threads around her delicate wrist, fixing it there.

Now, no matter what, she'll always have a piece of me with her.

We both glanced at the accessory now gracing her wrist. "Lovely." I meant her. Only her.

Her smile was everything good. Hope and love. Acceptance.

This feeling lifted the weight of my heart, the feeling that she was ready to accept me. That there was still hope for us. After everything we went through, the little spark of hope was magic in itself.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, tears started falling out of her eyes.

What did that mean?

"America? What's wrong?"

"I don't understand." She murmured, tears getting collected in the corner of her eye once again.

"What don't you understand?" Please, darling, give me something!

"You! I'm just really confused about you right now."

That could be easily rectified, darling, just give me a chance! I didn't say that.

She wiped one cheek, and so slowly I lifted my hand and wiped her other one. It was all so familiar— us—it was kind of strange. In a way we were starting again, but there was still the remnants of what had transpired between us lurking around, ready to swallow this familiarity once again.

When she looked at me with so much questions and wonder, I left my hand on her cheek, enjoying the simple gesture that I had taken for granted almost a month ago.

"America," could she hear the way I said her name, like a prayer, like she was my salvation, "if you ever want to know anything about me —what matters to me or who I am—all you need to do is ask."

Please ask me these questions. Give me a reason to explain myself.

I could see the many questions she wanted answer of burning in her eyes, yet she said "I don't know if I'm ready to do that yet."

What can I do? I asked myself, my eyes fixed on her. The answer was so much easy: give her some more time. A little distance for a few days worked wonders between us. I'm sure a few more time will bring us back. This was the right thing to do. But I didn't have this patience. I wanted to have her in my arms again, hold her tightly and her let go. Make her mine as soon as possible, announce everyone that she was mine, just as I was hers.

"I understand. I think I do anyway." I said, even when my heart wanted to answer all her unasked questions right away, do all the things I wanted to do, but I knew we both needed space to sort things out. Now there wasn't just her, but Kriss to consider as well. "But we should talk about some serious things very soon. And when you're ready, I'm here."

I stood up and gave her a bow before going out of her room.

I knew what has to be done. I have to get her back. She is almost ready now to be back with me once again. At least I hope she is. Just give her another week and everything will be fine once again.

At least I hoped it will be.