Maxon's POV:
The shrill sound of my clock screeches in my ear, interrupting an particularly good dream. Groaning, I reach out my left hand to hit the snooze button. Then,  the clock starts to talk to me. Jumping, I open my eyes slightly. It must be my servant, Ben come to get me up for breakfast. "What'd you say?" I mutter sleepily. "Your Majesty! The rebel alarm is going off!" A rush of adrenaline and fear courses through my being. There can only be one reason it's going off: the rebels are attacking! A shrill and terrified scream rises up from the corner of the room. Looking toward the source, I spot a maid, shacking uncontrollably in a small crevice of the room. I'm about to tell the poor creature to go when a huge 'bang!' Sounds from the door. It groans and creaks like an old ship against the never ending wave of the rebel's assaults. Are mom and dad safe, in the room? Had the alarm come on in time? Worries plaque me, threatening to take over. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. Everything's going to be fine. I open my eyes again sharply at the sound of another siege on the door. I am calm. I am collected. I always know what to do. Years of education engulf me, and all my worries of mom and father are pushed away. Everything disappears. That is, except me and the battlefield.
       It's go time.
        Swooping down, I gently take the iv out of her arm, and pick up America in a bridal style, her head resting limply against my chest. I cradle her carefully as I stumble toward the hidden door, the sounds of the rattling door hurrying me along anytime I felt like stopping to make sure America was ok. I can't help but gaze at her perfect completion, her morning-blue eyes still holding out on me. I've always dreamed about carrying her like this, ever since I've meet her. I'd always imagined us walking out, her resting in my arms, her smile as bright as always. The second I saw her, I knew. I wanted it to be her. But the question was, did she want the same? A life with me? Being watched every move, her life as common in talk as politics? She never said. I don't know. She might be up there somewhere, floating around, mocking me for wanting her to return. I didn't care though. All I wanted was her smile, her twinkling eyes, her cute laugh. Please America, please. I beg of you. Please come back. I don't care if you don't want me. If you want Aspen. It doesn't matter. For a single day without you breathing the same air as I, living on this earth, would be more tortures then a life time of watching you from the sidelines. Watching you marry, have children, even grow old. For break my heart a million times if you want, my dear. I don't care. It will only ever be yours anyway. Just don't give up. Don't shatter it completely by dying. Not again. Don't shatter. It became a chant of sort, as I marched over the last feet to the door. It kept me going, steady and dependable.  I'm ushered in by the maids and doctors. As the door is slammed behind me, I continue my lone march in almost blackness, resting a good while down the hall, but not quite to the safe room, as the role of America's weight pulls on me. Just five minutes. I tell myself. Then I'll move again. Breathing heavily, I carefully slump against the narrow and comparably crude wall of the secret passage, much simpler than the walls of the palace. It's still probably more than America's family has. I think guiltily. She had once sat me in the hall, and told me to close my eyes. She told me to imagine the one, I had smiled, thinking immediately of her. We where regular people. Just married. Normal house. Everything was fine.....until the money ran out. Then America had described starving. An previously undiscovered word. A feeling, by only, simply, luck, I will never have to feel. "Not being able to fall asleep because your wife's stomach is growling to loudly." She had been saying when I could stand it no longer. "Stop!" I yelled. She backed away, regret in her eyes. "Sorry-I didn't mean to go that far..." Go that far?! Did she really live like this? "Have you been, starving, before? " I ask, testing out this new enemy's name. She responds quietly. "When it's been either heat or food, we've chosen food."
         Her family could barely eat when we, at the palace, wasted so much. I wearily start shifting into a standing position, the walls digging slightly into my scarred back as I use it as a prop of sorts to push us both up. Wincing, I start off. I'm stopped mid-step though, by a sound. A sound that sent tingles down my spine. Gasping! Arching my head slowly, blinking as if this was some wonderful dream, I look down. And a crystal gaze gleams back up at me, perfect in every way. I look past her eyes, deep into her soul. And she looks strait and true into mine, her gaze searching. I lean in, closing some of the minuscule distance between us. "America." I breath, stunned and frozen by her icy hold. Then she does something that nearly makes me drop her.
"AHHHH!"
She screams in utter horror.