-Maxon-

I watched the rebel flag flap wildly in the wind. It was all black except for a white symbol in the middle – the sign of the rebels.

Heat flared in my cheeks, at the thought of that girl. She was brazen and despicable. To think that she had had the nerve to come into my home and threaten me!

A part of me was so angry not only at the girl, but at myself for allowing her to do this. I was prince, this was my domain, my palace, and yet I had just let some street rat just waltz right in and hold me at knifepoint as I was forced to deface what was practically my own property.

Maybe my father was right, maybe I was weak.

Shaking the dark thoughts from my head, I began the agonizingly slow trek across the roof to the stairwell.

I shivered; it had gotten cold in the time I'd spent up here, and I had mentally berated myself for giving my jacket to Samantha numerous times.

Walking across the rooftop was a pain. I stumbled and nearly fell several times. How the girl had done it so gracefully was a mystery. When I had been watching her from my hiding place, it almost seemed like she had been dancing.

I groaned lightly, wanting nothing more than to tear her from my memory. The encounter played over in my head like a sickening movie. What had been my motivation when I had tried to sneak up on her? Was I going to push her over the edge? Try to fight her?

No, I had acted thoughtlessly and now was reprimanding me for it. And as I began my slow descent into the palace, I could only hope that no one ever found out about this.

The palace was in even worse condition than the last time I saw it. Where before there had been medium to small sized gashes in the walls, there were now enormous chunks of plaster missing, and whole walls collapsed in on themselves some revealing offices and drawing rooms, while others showed the stark interiors of bunkers.

Ruined furniture flowed out of rooms in waves high enough to reach my thighs.

The worst part was the bodies. Any trace of them was always gone by the time I'd exited the bunkers.

But not this time.

They lay in lifelike positions their eyes open and mouths drawn. The corpses, some clad in guard uniforms, others in more crude materials, all seemed to be sleeping like if you beckoned them they would rise and resume their lives.

I cringed at the blood, some still fresh that was splashed almost everywhere.

Mirrors that had been spared from the first wave were shattered to useless pieces. My eyes darted over to one of the fragments, and caught a glimpse of myself.

I was a mess. My clothes were soiled with dust, and my skin sported a thin layer of grime from laying on the rooftop. Even though I had been pretty sure of it before, I saw that my hair stuck up at odd angles. The boy in the mirror frowned deeply, and I hurried on.

Suddenly, a voice rang out loud and sure. "Halt!"

I stood still for a minute, unsure as to whether or not they were talking to me. Surely they had to know who I was in spite of the fact that I was windswept and dirty.

"Put your hands up and turn around slowly or I'll shoot!"

Apparently not.

Raising my hands and swiveling around the face the soldier. He was a stout man with deep, bellowing voice, I utter the words, "Would you so jovially kill you prince?"

"Prince?" the soldier muttered, looking at me like I was insane. He looked me over for a moment shaking his head until a look realization began to dawn on his face.

"Y – your highness?"

"Yes?"

"I – I'm so sorry. I have no idea how I could ever begin to apologize."

"Well, putting your gun down would be a wonderful start."

"Oh!" He exclaimed as he hurriedly lowered his weapon. My arms dropped to my sides, and my eyes stayed on him as he replaced the firearm in its holster.

He was a stout man with a mop of mousy brown hair. His uniformed looked like it was straining to contain his broad shoulders.

"Sir," he said this time almost unintelligibly, his head hanging in shame.

"Yes, uh, I'm sorry I don't seem to know you name."

"Calloway, sir," the soldier said saluting. I nodded my silent approval.

"The King and Queen are worried sick looking for you." His next words were so quiet, I had to strain to hear them. "They think you're dead."

A sharp pain stabbed me in my chest. I could only imagine the pain my Mother was going through. I had never intended to hurt her; I'd likely been missing for hours, and after a rebel attack as brutal the one that had swept through the palace like a tornado, it would only be logical to assume I was dead.

Turning from Officer Callow, I began to walk in the direction of the main stairwell.

"Sir, where are you going?" he called after me.

"To prove them wrong."

Finding my parents was rather easy; I simply went to the area of the palace that had the greatest concentration of soldiers.

When I first saw my mother, there was a certain light in her eyes, and before I'd even blinked, I found myself trapped in a crushing hug.

"Maxon," she whispered over and over again. She touched my hair, my grimy face and hands, and ran her hands over my ruined clothes like she was try to make sure I was real. She didn't seem to care that her dress was soiled now, only that I was here.

I smiled into her hair; I'd really needed this.

"Maxon," said an austere voice from behind me. Releasing my mother from the embrace, I turned to find my father observing us.

"What do you suppose we do aboutthis," he said gesturing at several gouges in a nearby wall. "About these, rebels?"

Furrowing my brow, I'd never felt more determined or sure of myself in my entire life. "We destroy them all."

I'm so sorry for being late this was sort of difficult for me to write, but as always please review!