The Announcement

Illéa was in flames, almost literally. All because three families thought they were the best to rule. When they finally managed to stop their wars on each other, they found a solution: The Selection.

Each family would present a son to the Selection, the lots would be picked, and the ladies chosen would fight for something much more dangerous than love. The first son to find a wife, one that was powerful, strong, and intelligent enough to be Queen, would secure their family's position at the top of the council. The other two sons would find wives as well, but their families would remain only as advisers to the 'Royal' family.

But this year, the competition is fiercer. Talks of rebellion to escape from the power-hunger families bent on ruling Illéa, are sweeping throughout the kingdom. And all three families will do anything to bring them down. Anything.

Earl Warren Schreave, 20 - Royal Adviser

All three of the ruling families were gathered in one room, and the tension was unbelievable. We were all waiting for the official "Announcement" of the Selection, though everyone knew what was to happen. I had been preparing since I was born for the Selection, to save my family from another humiliating defeat. In fact, right now, on wooden thrones were the Illéa's, the winners of the Selection for the past four generations.

Their faces were stoic, their dark eyes searching the room, yet not landing on any single object or person. 'King' Axel and Queen Mirabelle, nicknamed Illéa's miracle by the tabloids, sat in the center of the thrones. The nineteen-year-old twin Princes, Lochlen and Octavian sat next to them in a row, and their faces matched the calm expression held by the rest of their family. But it was easy to see that they were both very tense, after all only one son from each family could be in the Selection.

And the twin who wasn't chosen would ultimately be turned away from their family, as the King and Queen, their own parents, were the ones who decided which twin would compete in the Selection. The rules were that if the family had multiple sons that were of age to compete in the Selection, the parents would decide who would compete based on looks, intelligence, and charisma. I found it almost sickening that looks were a major part of how we were chosen. I understood of the appeal for a good-looking King and Queen, but I also knew that the power of intelligence over matched the power of that certain appeal.

But if I could chose which of the twins I wanted to compete with, it would be Lochlen because of his poor charismatic skills. I could still remember the lessons we shared as young boys, Lochlen was bright without a doubt, but he lacked strong reasoning skills which ultimately backfired on him. But Octavian, even being a year younger than me, had always impressed me with his deductive skills. Ones that most definatly served him well as the Prince of Illéa. But I knew that my skill set was much more polished and perfected than the two of their's combined. Plus, appearances didn't really matter for the twins as they were almost identical. The same dark eyes and dark brown hair, the same features that all the Illéa siblings shared.

Every family had their physical genetic traits that they were known for. The Illéa's all had dark eyes, in shades ranging from dark blue to brown. Their hair usually in shades from light brown to dark, the current Illéa children sporting the darker hair of their mother's.

The Valencia's all had electric blue or green eyes that were strong and taunting in color. They also all shared hair so black that it almost seemed blue at times. They were always making a statement wherever they went.

My family, the Schreaves, were known for our dirty blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. I, out of my immediate family of five, was the only member with blue eyes. My mother would occasionally tease me for looking out of place from the other members of my family, who held the usual dirty blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. In contrast to my dirty blonde hair, which held a reddish tint at times, and ice blue eyes. My father said that I must have gotten my blue eyes from some long-lost relative, as almost everyone in the Schreave family held the same brown eyes.

I stopped thinking for a moment to look up at a door that led to the lower Advisers' rooms, which was slowly opening with a creak. The Illéa's and Schreave's heads shot to the door, the tension on a whole new level now. The Valencia's took their time, projecting their carefree image that hid their strong competitive sides. They had family strains as well, they had two sons that were of age for the Selection. Caspian, who was nineteen. And Nixon, whom was my age at twenty.

"Stand, Schreave family." A man in a stiff suit and a scruffy gray beard commanded. I mentally scoffed, he won't treat my family or I that way when I become King.

But my family did as we were commanded, I felt a small hand close around my slightly calloused one. I looked down to see Gwendolyn, my thirteen year old sister. Her light golden blonde hair was pulled back in a pretty bun, her brown eyes were sparkling out of excitement. One dark blonde piece of hair was hanging out from the bun, most likely because of her habit of tugging on her hair. The piece of dark blonde hair was a sign that her usual golden blonde hair was turning darker, like the rest of my family. My hair had started out a shade of golden blonde as well, but it started to turn darker by the time I was fourteen.

"You can do it, Ren." She whispered to me, a small but excited grin plastered on her face. I squeezed her hand and tickled her palm as we did when she was younger. She giggled quietly but slipped her hand out of mine after the lower Adviser with the gray beard cleared his throat to begin talking.

"House Schreave, present your Candidate." He said simply, no kindness or respect lingering on his words.

My father, Hendrix, put a hand on my back, gently but urgently guiding me a few steps further. "I, Duke Hendrix of the Schreaves, present my eldest son and heir, Earl Warren Schreave as the Candidate from House Schreave."

The man nodded his head absentmindedly, but I could feel the eyes of my family and the other families piercing a hole in the back of my head. I stepped on to the silver metal platform at the back of the room and adjacent to the front, which was used simply to take pictures of the Candidates for the Selection. There was a difference between being a Candidate and a Selected. Only three out of the thirty-five Selected could "win," whilst only one of the Candidates could become King. And the Candidates were always Royals, whilst the Selected were commoners. The Illéa's won last year, the Valencia's coming in second place, and the Schreave's finishing in third. But don't get us Royals wrong, we want love. Though in the quickest way possible, which makes the Selection a very looked-forward to task.

"Stand, Valencia family," the man said, still not making an effort to be respectful to the family either. "House Valencia, present your Candidate."

The two sons lined up to each other, Caspian at 6'3 and Nixon at 6'4. The Valencia's were also known for their height, and towered over me at 5'11. The two shared a glance, the emotion unreadable. Then they straightened their spines, which probably made them at least an inch taller, and stared impeccably well at the beige wall in front of them. Their parents, Royal Adviser Zaire and Royal Adviser Odelia, shared a look of uncomfortable coolness.

Their father, Zaire, began. "I, Duke Zaire of the Valencia's, present my second eldest son and heir, Lord Caspian Valencia as the Candidate from House Valencia."

The shadow of a grin appeared on Caspian's face as he stepped forward with no encouragement other than his own. Nixon's eyes were full of rage and hatred towards his younger brother, but he stepped back with a warning look from his mother and father. In the court of the Illéa's, anger, tears, affection, and even the simplest emotions were signs of weakness. The Illéa's couldn't ban any of our families from their court, even the Royal family didn't have that kind of authority. But they sure as hell could play your emotions until you wanted to quit, which also wasn't an option.

The man with the gray beard turned away from the quiet turmoil that was the Valencia family and to the powerful, yet uneasy Illéa family. They were a bigger family than our's was, they had six members to our four. The King, Queen, the twin Princes, Prince Clinton who recently turned fifteen and was named after some old political family, then the ten year old Princess Adira. Adira was a kind girl, not yet effected by her family's expectations and treatments of others. She was friends with my sister, Gwen, and friendly to everyone including servants and guards. I almost felt bad about taking her title of "Princess" away from her...

"Please stand, Illéa Family."

Pleases, only reserved for those at the top. Because you aren't judged by your good deeds, but by your mistakes.

"House Illéa, please present your Candidate."

There was an uneasy silence in the room as the Illéa's stood up. Princess Adria had an excited look on her tanned face, which matched Gwen's from before. One would be lying if they said that the Princess' smile didn't ease some of the tension, but not enough to make the situation comfortable or less bearable.

As on instinct, I turned my head to Caspian Valencia. Who's electric and inquisitive blue eyes were studying the two twin Princes, sizing them up as competition. Everyone in the Illéan court knew Caspian Valencia as a sort of jokester. Very charismatic and everybody's best friend. It wouldn't be a surprise to many of the court when the Valencia Candidate was revealed as Caspian, who's friendly nature compared to his elder brother's tough and closed-off shell, was usually preferred. Many had also wondered if Caspian would actually take the Selection seriously, but based on the laser-focused gaze of his eyes, I knew that he would undoubtably put up a fight during the competition.

"I, King Axel of the Illéa's, present my..."

Now everyone was leaning in, expectantly. Lochlen and Octavian had uneasy looks on their faces, not bothering to hide the strain between the two brothers. Their bodies were still, if not leaning back slightly for the light touch of their father's hand on their back.

"Eldest son and heir, Prince Lochlen Illéa as the Candidate from House Illéa."

I had to fight to hide my grin, this competition would be easier than I thought.

(CcC)

Hello readers! Welcome to the first chapter of my new story, Slaves to the Crown. This story is a SYOC, as you can probably tell already, and the Selection Form in on my profile. Everyone is allowed to submit four characters at the most, please submit them by PM (sorry Guests but I need to talk with you in private about your character), and I also take reservations for Provinces. Your character may be a One as long as you follow the rules on my profile. So happy submitting and I can't wait to see your characters!