Hi there! I'm Rainbow, and this is my SYOC. Anyways, this is the first chapter to kind of give you an idea of the dynamic of the story so far, and details about submitting girls will be at bottom. Not much else to say, so here ya go!

I don't own the Selection series and I never will (sadly). All I own is my own characters and this writing.

This chapter is in the point of view of the Crown Prince Ashton James Schreave.

Quite frankly, Illéa was falling apart.

It started with just a couple bad investments. We threw fourteen billion dollars away doing a ton of mineral trades with Swendway, which ended up not profiting our country at all- mainly due to the lab-created chemical substitutes that were now taking over the manufacturing industry. We tried to update the parliament buildings in the centre of each province, but the architect who created the buildings obviously had a couple flaws in his designs- the front hall of all but two of the buildings collapsed and were pretty much ruined. A couple more failed trades lost us a staggering fifteen-digit sum of money. From there, it only got worse- bad decision after bad decision made by my father, King Gregory Jackson the Third and his increasingly flustered advisers put the country in what was most bluntly described as crippling debt.

Our situation didn't improve over the next year and a half- currently, we were in debt to six different countries (including Germany, England, South Africa, France, Swendway and Indochina), all of which were getting increasingly frustrated with their fact that we were not paying back the massive amounts of money we owed them. War was a looming threat on the horizon, and protesters and media made their opinions known- they wanted my father and his advisers out of the position of power. They wanted a new king.

It wasn't that my father was a bad king- in his early years, he had done a lot of good for Illéa! But he was a little slow on the uptake and a bit too proud to admit his mistakes, let alone make any attempt to reconcile them. This led to frustration within the country and the common desire for someone new to take the throne, which wasn't really an option based on our democracy system. Revolt and rebellion thrived off of the massive hate towards the kingdom.

But luckily for Illéa, the country was about to get their wish- a new king was coming to the throne.

In the past, many a king had used the philosophy of the Selection to reunite our kingdom during tough times. For some, it worked, for others, it didn't. But the harmony of the thirty-five provinces coming together, each represented by their own girl in a fight for the king, was apparently supposed to heal the internal wounds that had been inflicted upon our country. I disagreed on my the thinking behind it, comparing it to putting a band-aid over a bullet hole- how could a competition between provinces- for a new king to rise to the throne and find a wife, no less- heal the innermost cuts that plagued our country? Unsurprisingly, my decision was outvoted, and we were having a Selection.

Not that I really minded. I mean, it wasn't a surprise that I was going to have a Selection- hell, it was only a matter of time. Nineteen or twenty was the age that it traditionally happened, so I waited with bated breath for the announcement that the contest to find my wife was going to begin. But seriously, come on, what guy wouldn't say no to having thirty-five beautiful girls stay at his house (or in my case, palace), especially with the intentions of dating- and eventually marrying- them?

The only thing was that I would probably enjoy the experience a hell of a lot more if my mother wasn't being so damn critical.

"No, you idiot!" she shrieked at the interior designer who was creating the girl's room layout. "What are you thinking? What sort of bloody fool would even consider using green as the accent colour for the rooms?" Her British accent- my mother was formerly a socialite from England- intensified when she yelled, making her voice thicker and a bit harder to understand.

The designer flinched, and was cowering against the wall of one of the rooms that would host the guests. I didn't blame him- oftentimes, I felt the same way. You wanted to stay on the good side of my mother. "O-of course, Your Majesty," he stammered, refusing to meet the Queen's eyes as he nervously shuffled the paint swatch to the end of the pile. "So sorry, so sorry. I-I'll change it instantly. What about bright pink for the whole room, with white trim?"

"Better," the Queen had snarled. "It would be much better, if the Selected were six years old! Perhaps I should consider another designer if you don't shape up!" Even without the anger on her face, she looked intimidating in her deep green gown and the four-and-a-half-inch heels that caused her to be about a foot taller than almost everyone else in the palace.

"Mom," I cautioned, laying a hand on the lacy green fabric of her dress sleeve. "It's okay. This designer is great- look how he did with the bathrooms!" Yesterday, the poor man had endured her endless screeching about the layouts for the Selected's private bathrooms. The end result did leave a lovely impression on the Queen, who instantly hired him to create the bedroom as well.

"We could just do baby blue and a sensual grey like you originally suggested," I continued, flashing a smile at the short Italian designer, who was nervously searching through the paint swatches to find the colours I suggested. She looked a little more enthusiastic about this idea and relaxed, restricting her hostility to glaring daggers at the designer. When her back was turned, the man flashed me a grateful grin, which I returned with a wink. My mother was tough to deal with if you didn't know how to treat her.

The morning was largely successful- we finished the room designs for the Selected, and my mother had only yelled at the designer thirteen times, threatened to fire him six times and slapped him once (the designer was in tears of frustration by that point). After that, we had lunch (pork-stuffed pablano peppers and a simple side salad of arugula and cherry tomatoes) before it was time to prepare for the Report.

"He should wear the tuxedo and plaid tie that he wore for Angelica's birthday last year." As usual, my mother was talking about me as though I wasn't in the room, a habit that annoyed me but never ceased despite my pleading. "You know, the black one with the emblem sewn into the breast?"

This described about fifty percent of my suits, but the stylists were in no place to argue. I suited up in the outfit my mother wanted me to (the stylists only found the one she wanted on the fifth try- this resulted in a lot of angry yelling about their disobedience and incompetence) and then headed out to set of the Report beside my mother, who still had a filthy scowl covering her face.

The Report was as boringly predictable as usual. After being debriefed on the lines for my announcement at the end, I sat through forty-five minutes of talk about Illéa's current financial state, our plans to update the school curriculum and the contamination in the Fennley water pipes. After a long, exasperating discussion about the recent increase in death from liver complications, Darren Fadaye- the host of the Illéan Capital Report- finally called me to the front of the set with a "special announcement."

I hopped off my seat beside my father and strode confidently forward until I was standing beside Darren, trying to project an image of calm self-assurance. I flashed a flirtatious smile at the camera, pausing for a moment before turning to Darren, forcing myself to resist the urge to fidget and stretch; there was a kink in my back from sitting still for so long. I mentally rehearsed the lines of my announcement while I waited for Darren to open for me as planned.

"So," Darren began, flashing his trademark toothy grin at the camera. "Here we have him, folks! Our Crown Prince Ashton James Schreave. Your Majesty, rumour has it that you have a special announcement for us." His voice went dangerously low at the end, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Right you are, Darren!" I responded swiftly, keeping my killer smile focused on the crowd. I had long since trained myself not to squint in the bright lights of the camera, and to remain still and poised. "I am very proud of my country, and all we have done and gained in the past, as well as what we are to accomplish in the future. We have an incredible history and are one of the best places to live in the world, and I look forward to being able to take the throne and lead our country." I paused for a moment to let my words sink in and gather suspense.

"One of the most important things for a king to have is a queen." I paused again, allowing the tension to build once more before I unleashed the big news. "Anyone between the ages sixteen and twenty may enroll for my Selection."

There's a smattering of pre-planned applause and cheering from my mother, father and siblings, as well as from the cast and set workers who didn't have their hands full. My grin grows bigger, and once the clapping fades out, I continue.

"The application forms have been sent out and should reach all those eligible within one to three days. Though it isn't mandatory for you to join, I'd appreciate for each and every lady in Illéa to apply for the opportunity to be my wife." I paused again, casting a brief and concerned glance at the clock counting down to the end of the report; there's only thirty seconds until the Report ends. Quickly, I sign off. "I hope to see your applications soon! Good night, Illéa!" The cameras hover on my brilliant grin. I hold it for a moment, and then the telltale click of the camera signals that the Report is over.

I plan on heading to my room for the night- I'm exhausted from a day of planning, and kind of hope for a quiet night without my mother breathing down my neck. I set off down the hallway when a sharp poke in my back makes me turn around.

"Good job." My mother's voice is curt, but she sounds oddly distant and apprehensive. "But is it good enough?" The last part is rhetorical and not really directed at me, so I just watch as she turns around and stalks down the hallway. There's something suspicious and off about her, but I have a feeling I'm just imagining things.

I don't dwell on it. Right now, the only thing I need is sleep- I daresay I won't get a whole lot of it during the Selection.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! I wrote this in the car, so it's not my best work, but I hope you liked it nonetheless. For those of you who want to submit, the rules and form are below. PLEASE READ THE RULES. THERE AREN'T A LOT AND THEY ARE EASY TO FOLLOW.

RULES

1. Please send all characters to me in a PM. No exceptions, because I will need to communicate with you about your character and it's necessary that I do so in a PM.

2. No plagiarism. This includes no carbon copies of Eadlyn or America. It also means don't copy someone else's characters within another SYOC (or this one too), and I prefer you not to remake your own characters either.

3. DIVERSITY. Racial diversity, sexual/gender identity diversity, appearance diversity, personality diversity, casté and job diversity. Cliche characters will be unlikely to be accepted and won't be Main/Elite characters. Also, don't make your characters excessively diverse. And keep it realistic.

4. Not technically a rule, but the longer your form the more likely your character is going to be a main character, as I'll have more material to work with.

5. I reserve the right to refuse (and eliminate eventually) characters. THIS IS HIGHLY UNLIKELY SO DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT. I will let you know once I have all my characters what characters will be mains, because I'll have to correspond with you regularly about certain quirks and whether I'm writing them properly. If there are empty spots, I'll put my own characters in that are just throwaways.

NOTE: I have one of my own characters in the story as one of the Selected. She is imperative to the plot of the story and not the Selected part- the Illéa-collapsing-part. She likely won't win. Hope that doesn't throw you off.

FORM

Full Name:

Nickname:

Date of Birth:

Province (check the open provinces on my profile):

Caste:

Sexual and Gender Identity:

Job (DIVERSITY IS NECESSARY; I MAY ASK YOU TO CHANGE IT IF IT ISN'T DIVERSE):

Reason for Choosing Job:

Face Claim:

Hair:

Eyes:

Height:

Weight:

Body Shape:

Other Facial Features:

Clothing Style before Selection:

Clothing Style during Selection:

Makeup Style:

Makeover Changes:

Tattoos and Piercings:

Personality:

Interesting Character Facts::

History:

Ethnicity:

Health Issues (e.g. allergies):

Languages Spoken:

Family Members (Name, Age, Job, Appearance, Personality and Relationship with Character):

Best Friends (Name, Age, Job, Appearance, Personality and Relationship with Character):

Past Relationships (Name, Age, Job, Appearance, Personality and Relationship with Character)

Likes/Talents/Hobbies/Interests:

Dislikes/Uninterests

Pets:

Thoughts on the Prince:

Opinion on their Maids:

Reason for Entering:

Personal Items:

Other:

Note: There will be a Pinterest page for this. The link is www . pinterest monotonicrainbow (remove the spaces). If you have a Pinterest account, you can follow me and we can make a Pinterest board for the character you submit (or if it's okay with you and you don't have a Pinterest account, I'll just do it myself)

Shoutout to x x . Scarlett (there are no spaces in the name, sorry about that)- she made the form and I HIGHLY ADVISE YOU CHECK OUT HER AWESOME STORY The Unbreakables. It's really good!

Hope this isn't too long for you guys. I'd appreciate it if you dropped a review and a character! Anyways, have a great day or night! Ciao! (For those of you who don't know, Ciao is "goodbye" in Italian).