Fallout

In the last chapter, the four royal siblings discussed the entry requirements and selection guidelines. Louis wasn't too happy with what his siblings did though. As usual, the POVs of the Selected are not set parallel.

Chapter 04

»Don't do icebreakers. «

Sophia's Office at the Illéa Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Princess Sophia of Illéa

Sophia skimmed through the folder she was holding. It had just come back from her grandmother who had gladly volunteered to help. In Helena's peculiar handwriting, she had commented onto the suggested outlines for the girls' first days.

"Give them time to meet," she had written, "but don't do icebreakers. They're a nightmare."

Sophia chuckled. Of course, the Queen Mother had her own experience with a Selection, and she expected her to have her own opinions on what they would do. Asking Helena on her opinion sounded like a much more trustworthy answer than her father too—she had heard enough of Adrian only having eyes for her mother.

"Make sure they'll get enough time to take in the information. Don't dump pages of knowledge onto them at once."

Thinking of time, Sophia grimaced. Two weeks until everything should be prepared—thank you, Xander, for giving me so much time—and two more weeks until the Selected would arrive. Hill Castle needed a time for a few renovations to accommodate the new guests coming. In the last years, the largest number of residents present had been five. The Queen Mother's residence had been Sophia's, Ernest's and Louis' escape in some of the years of the Great Unrest—before it had been deemed saver for them to be split too. Sophia travelled to Waverly.

"Make them understand that Hill Castle is a lone island compared to the Illéa Palace. Maybe introduce them to staff?"

Now, it was only the residence of two royals. Mother and son enjoyed the remoteness of the residence. Everything probably had been peaceful, except that Sophia and Xander had thrown their father out of it. Of course, Adrian agreed with the idea of the Selection and trusted his mother's judgement that the training month would ease everyone's nerves, but Sophia couldn't imagine her father to be happy to be back home.

The Illéa Palace reminded him too much of his wife.

"But Xander was right," she muttered to herself, glancing out of the window to the empty garden. "Dad needs to get out of his hole… I don't want to dodge people's questions on him any more…"

She played with the (pink, of course—Sophia loved girly things) pen in her hand (although much less skilled than Xander was) and glanced at the light pink roses on the desk. Maybe she could ask him to try and revive the garden? The rebels hadn't ever been so stupid to attack the King's residence, but over the Great Unrest, the beloved garden had lost its glory.

"I'd love to suggest to join but…" She had her duties.

Sophia shook her head and returned to the folder. The princess turned a page, skimming through her ideas for icebreakers. Her grandmother had, one more time, insisted on icebreakers being a terrible idea.

"Why though?" Sophia wondered. "They surely help to ease everyone's nerves!"

She made a note to include them either way—Helena was old and probably didn't understand how their generation worked. She turned another page, finding the list of considered applicants to teach the young ladies about the life at court. Helena agreed with her choices.

Knock knock. "Can I come in?" It was her father who asked.

Within seconds, Sophia rose and smiled. "Of course!"

It wasn't even politeness that her father asked to come in. Adrian was the King, and he could do however he pleased. Yet, he always asked to enter his daughter's rooms—even if it was Sophia's office. The door opened quietly, and the princess curtsied politely.

"It's been a while," Adrian remarked with a nod.

Seconds later, his daughter hugged him, unable to hide that she had been missing her father. "I missed you," she complained. She missed him—even if she was disappointed.

"I'm sorry," the King replied, the faint smile disappearing from his face. "I… I just…" He was lost for words, and shook his head. How uncommon for the politician...

Sophia nodded either way, and politely pushed him onto the nearest chair, taking her own again. "I understand, dad," she told him. "I miss her too."

Adrian shook his head, disappointed in himself. "You're at least working…" He nodded towards her desk, filled with files with notes, outlines and plans.

"I…" Sophia bit on her lip. She did agree, but she couldn't say that. "Dad, you loved mum. It's natural for you to miss her."

"It's just that every single time I try to work or think about the country or anything, she comes back to me. What she'd comment on the reports Muffin is sending me, or what she'd complain about or what she'd like or…"

"Give yourself time, dad," Sophia said. "Why does everything remind you of mum?"

"She always tried to be helpful," her father replied, "but she's a terrible politician. She never looked at the big picture, so anytime I try to do that, I find myself wondering which little details Lys would look at and think about and…" The King sighed. "And here I am. I wanted to check onto my daughter, and what do I do? Complain about my life, again." He looked to Sophia. "How are you doing, Cupcake?"

"A bit busy," Sophia laughed, "but I want to finish the planning. Then there's also Freddy and normal work."

"How is he doing?"

"He's curious about the Selection," Sophia explained. "I've explained how it will go, but I left out confidential details."

Adrian nodded. "That's my girl. From what I've seen, you've done great work too."

"Thanks," Sophia smiled. "What do you think of it?"

"The Selection?" Adrian asked. "I remember that I was a nervous wreck."

Sophia laughed. "I remember. You told us that mum was confidence itself."

Adrian nodded nostalgic. "She frightened me! I was at the edge of eliminating her among the first batch, but I decided not to. Probably because I could use someone who was confident, unlike me."

"I couldn't imagine Xander a nerve wreck but…" she trailed off. "We both know he's got no experience with women…" She sighed. "He's been treating the whole work on the Selection as a job interview, not what it's meant to be. I understand that he's nervous and awkward about it, but… The poor girls! They expect romance—the country does—and they'll get Xander who looks for an employee and not a wife!"

Adrian nodded. "I've been worried about that too. He's too focused on the facts and the government."

"He doesn't have a life," Sophia added and leaned into her chair. She rolled her eyes, before realising that this probably went into the wrong direction. She glanced to her father, worried. She wanted to talk to him about so many things, but she couldn't. Adrian had other problems—he had lost the love of his life, and faith into his country. She couldn't talk to Xander either—he had to find a wife and was worried about Victoria every single day. She couldn't talk to Ernest—he wasn't the type to give such advice either way—or Louis who had his own problems. Maybe Helena? But she was too worried about her son…

"You're right…" the King lamented. He caught his breath, and took the folder Sophia had opened before. The King flicked through the pages, watched by his worried daughter. He stopped at one page, began reading, before he sighed. The folder dropped back onto the table, and he braced his head onto his hands.

"Dad…?"

"I'll…" Adrian shook his head. "I might go and see…"

Sophia smiled hopefully. Was Adrian going to say he'd try to work again? Not that she trusted Xander—she did!—but her father wasn't dead, and with Xander in charge, it felt terribly much like he was. Adrian had stayed away from them, clearly living the Crown Prince free reign, in order to avoid any confusion and conflict.

"I might look at staying in Waverly for the duration," Adrian finished. "Or Clermont, or something like that."

Sophia wanted to sigh in disappointment. She didn't—it'd be impolite—but she definitely wanted to. She scrutinized her father, considering the limited opinions she had. There wasn't really anything she could tell him to genuinely convince him, was there?

"I'm sure that Xander would appreciate your help though," she pointed out. "I mean, we will get him into romance somehow… Plus, Ernest and Louis need someone to talk to that's not Mr Lets-Keep-The-Country-Running-Nothing-Else-Matters."

Adrian shook his head amused. "You seem to be doing that perfectly fine though, Cupcake."

Sophia wanted to interrupt—to remind him that she was preparing to leave—but didn't. She nodded, keeping her worry about who would take care of the family when she was gone. She adjusted her hair, nervous on what exactly she was meant to say.

"Do you want me to stay, Cupcake?" the King asked though.

A part of Sophia wanted to embrace him happily for getting the hint, but once again, Sophia didn't. She had done enough for that already today. Sophia loved her father, but he once again reminded her that he hadn't been her father ever since the civil war. Instead, she gave him a smile.

"I am sure that it'd be of benefit," she replied diplomatically.

"What benefit?" the King glumly asked.

"First of all, while grandma provides an insight from the Selected's perspective, you can provide an insight from the prince's perspective," Sophia spoke, making up a reason as she went on, "which would help me with the organisation as I could take your experience in consideration, and, as I said, my brothers certainly could need the help."

Adrian looked into his daughter's eyes. The sadness in his was undeniable. Was he ever going to be the same person again?

"I will see what I can do, Cupcake," he replied equally diplomatic, although much less enthusiastic than Sophia. "How are your brothers doing? I trust that you know that best."

Sophia glanced to the roses on her desk. How were her brothers doing? Xander was a pillar of confidence and strength. Ernest was pondering about things that he refused to tell her, and Louis was surprisingly keen to help with the Selection.

"Xander is doing well," she began. "As always, he's on top of everything. He has agreed to my suggestion to ignore castes and appearance, and is looking for ways to give everyone a fair chance in participating. We are still working on the final criteria to select the girls though."

"My father, back when I was having my Selection, went through lists of eligible girls who submitted their name to the lottery," Adrian remembered. "He went by caste though, and had a list of types of women he'd see as adequate. He promised me that once he finished that list, the rest would be random—which it was, I believe—but I ended up choosing one of his choices either way."

"Was grandfather tending towards upper castes?" Sophia asked curious.

Adrian shook his head. "He married a Five, Cupcake. He placed any preference in the past. He looked at women who would understand the pressures the job entailed. Of course, they tended to be women of upper castes, but I remember that he chose two Sevens himself. Make sure that you look beyond the obvious."

"Beyond the obvious? What do you mean?"

"A Seven who is shouldering a family's survival is used to pressure and stress. A Three who's just studying international relations will know how it is to study, but she won't understand the weight of lives. Your mother dealt well with the exposure, but lacked the understanding that people live differently. I love her—that's why I married her—but logically speaking, she wasn't the best candidate. Looking back, logically speaking, it probably wasn't the best choice either, considering the country."

"What do you mean?"

"You know that your mother was never an outspoken supporter for giving families whose occupation didn't support them as well as others help, don't you? She believed that when children grew up in such environments, they wouldn't come to reach the same 'heights' as others?"

Sophia nodded. "Yes, I do."

"When I married your mother, my father was glad—she was a Two and the upper classes never liked my grandmother very much. Your grandmother was accepted—she was, de facto, upper class—but some still questioned whenever there weren't others more adequate. Your mother didn't fill that role as well as expected, and she didn't help with the poor people either."

"I understand," Sophia nodded. She couldn't tell her father that she knew that the majority of the country had disliked the late queen—although many agreeing that she shouldn't have been killed—could she? Adrian loved her.

"It probably didn't help, in combination with the financial trouble. Xander is given a difficult decision, but at the same time, I want your brother to know that there's always a chance to find a soul mate in the batch. I found mine. My father found his. My grandfather did, too. My great-grandfather came to love his wife, too. I want him to look for that, too."

Sophia chuckled. "Maybe you should tell him that then?"

"Honestly?" Adrian sighed. "Knowing Muffin, he'll take it too serious if it comes from me."

She had to agree. "I'll try to get him to consider what could happen. What would you do?"

"I'd always put myself first," Adrian replied. "It's still my life. But if I was to choose between the working, middle and upper class? I'd say middle class is where the least problems come from. Working class will make people of importance question the girl's capabilities, and upper class will remind people of Lys. But then again, people are far too focused on castes."

"They are," Sophia nodded. "Everyone seems to believe that just because you are a Seven, you cannot live a good life, and no one seems to understand that prior the caste system, Illéa was one big mess. So many jobs weren't filled, and so many had too many applicants…"

Adrian nodded. "I would love to say that we can push the education system reform forward faster, but the repairs and restorations have priority. When the country has recovered from the civil war, it's time to begin Project Omega."

Sophia beamed. He was thinking of the government after all—great! Maybe he'd come back the way he was before the Unrest? She relaxed and leaned back.

"What about Ernest?" the King inquired.

Sophia looked at the wall to think. Ernest was a source of worry to her, but then again, he knew that he could always come to her. She glanced to the only photo that wasn't a garden or flowers in her office. It had been taken seven years ago, in the summer when the Illéas had been to Clermont as a holiday.

"I'm wondering if he…" Sophia sighed. "He seems to be bothered by something, but, that might just be the Selection and Xander wanting him to find a wife, too. He isn't the type to settle down. What do you think?"

"About Ernest settling down?" Adrian asked. "While I do agree that he isn't the type to settle down, he needs to. What he did during the Unrest was unacceptable. Did he protest a lot?"

"Not really, no," Sophia shook her head. "It felt like he just gave in because he knows that Xander would have won the debate either way. Maybe the time he spent away from Los Angeles and all the party life changed him?"

Adrian shook his head. "I doubt that. Louis stayed in a community of lower castes during the last years of the Unrest, and his opinion didn't change either. Maybe he just agreed to avoid the discussion. He hates discussing."

"That's possible."

"Make sure that he is involved into the process of selecting the women," Adrian recommended. "That might help to convince him."

"Probably," Sophia nodded. "Although, talking about how easily Ernest was convinced, Louis initially hated the idea. He didn't say it out loud, but it was… obvious."

"He's never been a friend of public life," Adrian pointed out. "Not since that incident."

"I hope it'll help him change. What I noticed though, when we had a meeting on the Selection criteria for the girls, he participated a lot—Louis was really helpful in the discussion. I don't understand what caused the sudden change in mood… When I tried to talk to him, he asked me to leave him alone and process it."

Adrian remained silent. He probably didn't know either, especially not with the time he spent away from his children." Maybe we're just lucky, for once," the King decided.

"Maybe," Sophia repeated nodding.

"What exactly are you telling Frederick about the Selection?"

"Just what the public will learn," Sophia replied. "I was considering that since Xander wants to test the girls early on, we could invite foreign royalty, under the disguise of diplomatic discussion." She looked at her father. Would he get the hint that he was meant to participate? "Starting with the Savoys, maybe? I haven't seen Amelie in forever."

Adrian nodded. "It would be great to see her and her family again."

Sophia suppressed a cringe. "I'm not sure if it's such a good idea to invite Carlos and Luigi… Luigi is fine but Carlos? He's just as bad as Ernest."

Adrian laughed. "Well, maybe they'll learn from each other."

"If we invite the Savoys, what about the Windsors?" Sophia continued. "Louise hasn't been in Illéa since the Unrest began."

A shadow fell on Adrian's face. His younger brother, Maximilian of Illéa and husband to Princess Louise of the British Empire, had died on the day, Victoria had been kidnapped. Their daughter, Lady Lucia of Illéa, had been taken too, but unlike Victoria, they had gotten her back very soon. As a corpse.

Xander still believed that Victoria's knowledge about the Illéan government had saved her life. Looking back, he probably had been right from the beginning on.

"Louise is still bitter about what happened," Adrian noted. "Our relationship with the Windsors always is under a unfortunate star…"

"Maybe just Louise? Give her a chance on a closing on what happened to Lucia?" Sophia suggested. If Louise came, Adrian had even more of a reason to be back.

"… Not with the Savoys at once," the King decided. "Amelie would be glad to meet another group of Selected, but we'll see about the Windsors. Has Frederick expressed interest in a visit, or why did you think of this?"

"Not in relation to the Selection—I haven't sent that letter yet—but yes, he has."

"Italy, Britain and Germany," the King muttered. "What about Spain and Swendway?"

"Our relations with Swendway and Spain aren't as strong and close anymore as they once were," Sophia remembered. "If we invite them, I'd prefer to wait until the Selected have had training as diplomats. I think Xander remarked that the New Asian president expressed the desire for summit between us and them, but the plan for such a meeting is March, so no Selected for New Asia."

"That is a good analysis of the situation," Adrian complimented. "But Swendway's monarchy is constitutional. Inviting them would be more of a show than politics. Maybe later on, they could work as real test, compared to Spain."

"An excellent idea, dad," Sophia smiled.

Should she ask him if he would join them? Should she remain quiet and assume so? Adrian needed to come back. The Siege of Angeles was months ago, and people were waiting for him to come back. Ruling the country was his right and duty—he had to take it back! He wasn't dead yet. Xander wasn't meant to rule just yet.

Adrian glanced to the family photo on the wall. He didn't follow his daughter's thoughts; his mind was with the youngest princess. On the image, she was laughing next to her oldest brother, but in reality...

"How… how has she been?"

This time, it was Sophia's face on which a shadow fell. "I'm not sure. I haven't really seen her since the Siege. Xander knows more."

"I think I'll do that." The monarch rose. "Thank you for being here for everyone, Cupcake."

"Always," Sophia replied with a smiled that was a little bit too forced.

/ / /

Upper East-Side Penthouse, New York, Waverly
Lady Veira Schreave

It was the third time that Veira's alarm ringed.

Maybe even the fifth, but who counted? There wasn't exactly anything that made her want to move out of the cozy, warm sheets she was currently buried in. Outside, New York had long ago turned into the busy place it was—the city probably never stopped buzzing—but in Veira's penthouse, there was silence.

The employees knew better than to disturb the young lady, and she was left in peace for as long as she wanted to. Eventually, the ringing of the alarm became an annoyance though, and Veira pushed the alarm clock down from the nightstand, silencing it.

"… Oops." She yawned and squeezed at the bright sunlight. That one was broken for sure. She'd get another one later. It was only the third this week, wasn't it?

Was there anything in particular that she had on her schedule today? No. Veira pulled the sheets closer. Besides tea with her uncle and aunt, she didn't remember anything. She probably could go and get the new alarm clock though.

"Five minutes more…" she muttered.

They turned into two hours, but details. Eventually, at one o'clock, she came to realize that she probably needed to make the decision whenever she'd want to get that alarm clock before tea or not at all. If she was going out, she might as well also check out the new collection of Chanel that had arrived in the stores a while ago, couldn't she? She'd probably end up spending lots of money again….

"… Nah…" She blew a blonde hair strand out of her face. "It won't make much of a difference."

Veira was a Schreave. A descendant of one of the founding fathers of Illéa. A member of a family that was closest to the Illéas. A One. Almost no one could say the same for themselves. Whenever she spent one hundred or five thousand dollars on clothes made little difference.

Slowly (the bed was far too difficult to move in, but it was comfy) she dug her way out of the sheets and placed her feet onto the ground of her bedroom. She could feel her blood flushing into her legs, and shuddered.

It got better very soon.

"Good morning, New York," she hummed. She took a step closer to the panorama window of the NY skyline, and she smiled a bit. The sky was clear, New York buzzed as usual and her apartment was a sanctuary of silence. Maybe she could take a break in Central Park?

"Today is a good day," she decided. A good day required brighter colours, she thought, and opened the doors to her walk-in closet. How someone could survive without a walk-in closet was a mystery to her.

Being one of the few Ones in existence automatically made one some kind of celebrity, but she had grown into being a bit of a fashion icon in Waverly, too. Not that she minded—she loved fashion!—but it made her aware of how careful she had to be with her clothes.

Half an eternity later, she entered the living room to check out whenever a new edition of the Vogue had already arrived. It hadn't; there was still the old edition with Alex Valentino on the cover. Veira dropped the magazine onto the couch table and went onto the hunt for her purse.

"I swear… this thing has the ability to disappear," she muttered while looking into all places where it could be. The bag was, although sans what she needed, her credit card, in front of the television. The credit card turned out to be on the counter.

"Maybe I should stop dropping things so carelessly…" she muttered with a shrug. It wasn't going to make a lot of difference, was it? She grabbed the credit card, the bag she had chosen for today's outfit and other necessities, and headed to the elevator.

She decided to go and buy a new alarm clock first, and as her driver drove through the never-ending traffic jam of New York, she began scrolling through the newsfeed on her phone. The political news quickly was ignored—if anything really important happened, her uncle would surely tell her—and she skimmed down to the celebrity gossip.

"Sophia hasn't been up to much lately," she noted. "It's been like this since January, and the palace hasn't pointed out any events for February or March either…" She continued to scroll, wondering what was up with Sophia. She was a friend of Veira, but with the Unrest being ended, Sophia wasn't staying in New York anymore and busy 24-7 with her duties as princess.

She typed a few things into her phone, and realised that the gossip was right—there was nearly no public event Sophia would attend. People questioned if she was seeing someone, but if that was the case, Veira believed that she'd know about it. Besides Victoria—poor girl, she thought—the other royal's schedule was surprisingly calm as well. Ernest was expected to visit provinces on the east coast that had been affected a bit by the war—she could bet that he'd end up just partying in Miami again—while Louis had been noted to be scheduled to visit southern provinces such as Bonita.

"There's nothing on Sophia…" she repeated. "Weird."

Maybe she was just taking time off again? Probably. She deserved it. The same went for Xander—even though the Crown Prince always tended to intimidate Veira a tiny little bit (who, of good social standing, had martial arts as hobby?!) or they were trying to help Victoria?

"It's been ages since I saw any of them," Veira thought before the car stopped.

Her driver opened the door for her, allowing her to step out of the car that was parked perfectly in front of the entrance. By now, most people probably started going out for lunch break. Veira adjusted her jeans briefly and unseen before heading into the store. Just in case someone recognised her.

She managed to get as far as to the counter with her new alarm clock (in form of a moon, with glitter!) until two girls approached her with a nervous "Excuse me?"

Veira turned around herself a bit too fast. "Hello!" she beamed. "Can I help you two?"

"Are you Veira Schreave? The One?" one of them asked. "You look a lot like her."

Veira smiled. "Yeah," she replied. "That's me."

"Can we… can we take a photo?"

She kept her smile up. There wasn't a reason not to be smiling, was there? "Sure. Just let me pay for this."

Both girls, still nervous, nodded energetically and gave Veira the time and space to pay for the moon-shaped alarm clock. Since both of them didn't seem in a hurry—only nervous to meet the somewhat celebrity—she took her time to enter the code of her credit card and receive the paper bag with her newly acquired possession.

"Done!" she announced bubbly. "Thanks for waiting."

"No problem," one of them stuttered.

Taking photos didn't take very long (Veira had her driver assist them), and she exchanged a few more polite words with the two girls, before heading outside. Her bag was carefully placed into the car, before she slipped in herself to head to Channel. Maybe she could visit Michael Kors too?

By the time she left Gucchi, she had spent about five thousand dollars, and no time left to slip into the makeup store nearby. Tomorrow, she decided, and asked her driver to head towards her uncle's residence. The governor of Waverly was always busy, but Phineas Schreave always took the time to meet her himself. Alongside Genevieve, her aunt, they had adopted her after her parents and the Great Unrest happened… Genevieve couldn't have children herself, so they had been willing to take in Veira back then.

"It's… Five and a half years ago," she realised as she was guided to the sitting room where her aunt and uncle were already there waiting for her.

"Hello!" Genevieve rose to greet her, and Phineas, once he dropped the folder in his hand that probably was work, followed. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm doing fine," Veira replied. Not a lie—today was a good day.

She quickly caught up with Genevieve on what had happened in the time between their last real meeting, allowing Phineas, her uncle, time to finish the work he was probably doing. They began drinking tea and Genevieve offered strawberry tarts.

"Oh, no, but thank you." Veira shook her head. "I had a large lunch."

"That's no reason to dodge strawberry tarts!" Genevieve laughed and placed them in front of her. "Phineas, are you finished already? I know that you want to finish work, but you promised to take time when Veira would come!"

"A moment and I'm with you." He replied, and was with them a bit later.

"What are you working on?" Veira asked. Not particularly that curious, but since she already had heard what Genevieve had been up to…

"Two things. One of them is the problem with the number of homeless refugees in Waverly, and something else. It's a plague, really. We can't just send them back to their home towns, especially when they were destroyed, but they won't find a better live in Waverly either, and are more likely to become Eights."

Veira nodded. "We were lucky that Waverly wasn't touched by the rebels."

Genevieve laughed. "No one wants to fight nearby nuclear plants."

"I assume that was the reason why," Phineas nodded. "But Allens, Labrador, and Hansport were hurt worse than we were, and we've got too many refugees coming from there…"

"What is the plan?"

"Build temporary shelters, like everywhere where it's needed, and go from there. It's a blessing that we can employ lots of Sevens, but we're worried about Sixes and Fives. There are plenty of roles Sixes can do, but not nearly enough, and Fives bring no necessary skills. Most of the homeless left in Waverly are Fives from the surrounding provinces. They just don't find work…"

A round of silence—neither Genevieve nor Veira had an idea on what to say—fell.

Awkwardly, Genevieve interrupted it. "Well, we haven't met up to discuss the homeless problem," she decided. "The other thing, you've been working on, Phineas…?"

"Oh, yes!" Phineas laughed. "Fortunately, that's a lot less work."

"What is happening?" Veira asked.

"A Selection," Phineas announced. "It's still a secret—don't tell anyone—but it'll be announced on the Report in two weeks' time."

"A Selection?" Veira repeated surprised. "By whom? Louis?"

Phineas shook his head. "Xander, of course. He's the heir, even though I cannot imagine that he has possibly time to date women right now." He laughed again. "But, Ernest and Louis are meant to take a look at the ladies too."

"Are they?" Veira repeated surprised. "But Xander is twenty whereas Louis is seventeen."

"Hence me saying 'take a look'. Xander's much softer on Louis, but he wants Ernest to settle down. Understandably."

"We were thinking…" Genevieve began. "Why don't you participate? I know that you just finished school and are still looking for something to do, but maybe the Selection will help you? You'd also have a great chance to see Sophia and the boys again."

"I could see them either way though…" Veira replied wary.

"Sophia's schedule is full of Selection work, and so is Xander's, alongside government work," Phineas explained. "Ernest and Louis are doing public work but also will have the girls in mind—I doubt that you'd have that much of a chance to see them for more than a cup of coffee in the afternoon."

"… Oh."

"I'm sure it'd help you, too," Genevieve added. "It'd be a nice distraction from… your parents. I know you still worry about your mother after your father passed away."

"… You're right," Veira nodded slowly. "Why not?" She tried to be cheerful and not worried.

"Great. I'll inform Sophia that she'll have less work to do for Waverly."

"What do you mean?" Veira asked.

"Don't worry, darling," Phineas insisted.

/ / /

Flat above Cavanah Jewelry Store, Edmonton, Ottaro
Irina Cavanah

Irina Cavanah was surrounded by dismissed drafts, notes, paper sheets, and pencils. Wearing the usual attire that looked too much like a military uniform in her mother's opinion, she was carefully drafting an application.

Not a job application, the Selection application.

Maybe that was why her mother looked like there was a dragon in the living room. She probably hadn't expected Irina to sign up, after she hadn't even touched the topic at the family dinner following the Report announcement more than a week ago.

"What are you doing?" she asked, ignoring the obvious, evidently. In Irina's opinion, she was being far too surprised.

"Filling in the form," she replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Oh really?" her mother sat down next to her, already getting all excited. "I didn't expect you to sign up! What are you writing in your form?"

"I'm still drafting…" Irina muttered, her mind occupied with said form.

"Can I see?" her mother, still curious, asked.

A part—a very strong one—wanted to tell her mother that she could read her final draft since it didn't make any sense for her to read the unfinished ones. She didn't really trust her with constructive criticism, let alone because they always misunderstood each other somehow.

"Please? I was too old to sign up for the King's Selection—I'm so excited to see what will happen!"

The King was turning forty this year, so assuming that the oldest age eligible for his Selection was the same as for the current Crown Prince's Selection, then her mother had been quite a bit above the age limit. Strange to think that the oldest child of the King and Queen had been born when they hadn't even been twenty… Monarchies were weird. At least they did a decent job at running the country, even if the two younger princes seemed to have a little bit of an attitude problem…

'Oh, come on! It's… the deadline is the day after tomorrow—you need to be done by now!"

Irina shook her head. "I'm not. I had work to do."

"You can read my finished draft," Irina decided either way. She placed the pen and current outline for her essay answer down (she didn't need to draft her name and so on, obviously), and looked to her mother. "Okay?"

She sighed. "Alright… But if you go, you need to write us every day!"

"… Mum." Irina groaned. "The chance for me to get selected is one to thousands. Do you know how many eligible girls there are, alone in Ottaro? I'm just putting in my name for the sake of getting my essay conveyed and just in case, but I won't be selected."

"But come on!" her mother insisted. "You can dream, honey!"

"No, thanks," Irina answered colder. "I have better things to do. Also, in terms of letters—you have Lucas to keep you busy."

She referred to her younger brother. Her older brother, Evan Cavanah, would have been twenty-five years old by now, but he wasn't. She could see that thinking of her dead son hurt her mother, but Irina stayed strong. She didn't move an inch. Evan was dead, and finished, she told herself. He wasn't going to come back.

How ironic that while he had been forced into a war he didn't want to and died, she volunteered and survived.

"You'll be fine," she added. On long distance, she absolutely was. If Irina participated in the Selection, she'd be definitely able to secure her family's living standard. Not that they lacked anything, but just in case. Even during the Selection, they wouldn't have problems!

And that was all just if the big if happened to happen.

"But…" her mother pouted. She seemed to be about to say anything, but she didn't. Considering the discussion to be over, Irina returned to her draft (which was discarded in the next moment) and began scribbling again.

"How come you even want to participate? I thought you viewed the Selection as a stupid fairy tale lie for girls?"

"It gives me a platform to address issues," Irina replied, again in a matter-of-fact voice. "I have ideas, and honestly, it's a perfect opportunity for people with ideas on the country and politics to speak about them, as well as a chance to become someone recognisable. I mean, it works for silly girls who want a fairy tale, but in my opinion, they're just wasting spaces."

"… Oh." Her mother sighed. "Irina, honey, you don't understand this."

Confused—she didn't show it but she felt the confusion—Irina faced her mother. "What do I not understand?"

"The Selection isn't about politics or ideas or so, it's about love. Finding the one you want to spend your life with."

Irina rose an eyebrow. "Yeah, no. You don't find the perfect person to love among thirty-five random girls."

"The King did! King Henry did and—"

"I get it," Irina interrupted. "You're easily falling for their love story nonsense."

"It's not nonsense! Why do you think that the King has handed the government to the Crown Prince?" her mother asked, protective of her own opinion. Even though she was that, her expression conveyed worry. She knew Irina.

And Irina knew herself. "Because he's weak," she blurted. "He can't get over it. He's weak."

She wasn't weak. She had gotten over Evan—even when they never had gotten a complete confirmation of his death, she had gotten over it. When his letters had stopped in the third official year of the Great Unrest, she had kept strong. Even though she had joined the military to help him.

Too bad that she ended up in Carolina while he stayed in Ottaro…

"So… if you think so, how did you introduce yourself?" Her mother gave in, and went back to the form. Wordless, Irina (now slightly annoyed) handed her the latest draft. Immediately, her mother began reading it—out loud.

"I am a hardworking and determined person that loves learning new things… " She glanced to her daughter and nodded. "An interesting start, I guess?"

Irina shrugged. "It's true."

"As soon as I could, I volunteered to fight in the Great Unrest. I was stationed in Carolina and only returned in November of last year, when the region I had been in had been deemed as safe." Her mother began skipping lines. "I am currently on an internship with the ambition to become a construction manager, although my dream is to become an architect…" Her mother sighed. "This isn't a job application, you know."

"One does not simply walk into Mordor."

"…What?"

"Lord of the Ring quote," the fangirl in Irina replied. "The Selection is about choosing a Queen. The only Queen that can care about emotions is a prom queen. The rest will need a head first, and I'm proving that I have a head. Besides, it's asking for that stuff to allow the staff to get a vague idea of who you are. That does the deal, in my opinion."

"You need to add that you're a terrible fan of that ring lord thing."

Irina bit on lips. "Lord of the Rings."

"Details." Her mother shot back. "I have no issues with leading group work, commanding people and similar positions. I tend to lead conversations and consider myself talented in debating," her mother continued reading. "Well, I agree with that one. What else do you have?"

"I considered talking about being interested in politics—as in, from being actively part of it, and that I aim for perfection. I was also considering talking about public speaking and being in the centre of attention."

"Mention the school speech competition," her mother suggested.

"I doubt that a school speech competition will fit into an application for this… More adequate would be that I wasn't just some random foot soldier by the end of the war, but had been given a promotion."

"Or that. It's your thing."

"You don't really believe that this will work," Irina deadpanned.

"It's about love, honey!"

"It's not, mum. History proves that."

Irina's mother sighed. "How would you feel if you were meant to find a wife and one of the possible women gave you a job application rather than an introduction to herself?"

"I'm not gay."

"You know what I mean."

"If I was to be King, then I would rather look at the abilities of someone. Look at the Queen. Don't tell me that she was made to be a queen just because a random prince happened to like her."

"She wasn't but—"

"Do you really think that the Crown Prince wouldn't want to prevent another problem like her? Especially with his brothers having the same attitude problem? Princess Sophia will probably marry some foreign royal like the King's sister did with the Italian King. Who knows what Princess Victoria will do. He'll want someone who can deal with the position adequately."

"Well, the… the Selection…" Her mother groaned. "I give up."

Irina snatched the piece of paper from her hands. "And I'm going to continue working on this. Hopefully without interruption."

/ / /

Anastasia's home, Sioux Falls, Dakota
Anastasia Collins

There was something very strange about this all.

Anastasia wasn't very comfortable with the situation she had found herself in. Her sister was going on and on about how she was absolutely going to be admitted in the Selection and that she would become princess (which wasn't out of character for her), but Anastasia kept thinking back onto the essay question.

It was too predominant, too important to say that the Selection was luck.

The day before yesterday, the last applications had been taken in. From what Anastasia knew, it'd take a month—the Selected would be announced in the end of March—for them to know who had been selected. A month that officially was filled with security checks, preparations and just a bit of buffer time. Even though she wasn't as opinionated about the gap as her mother (who kept on complaining), she felt like it was a little bit off.

Unlike usually, she was with her family, too. Or rather, they were with her, to see how she was doing and all, considering how demanding her work as bio-environmental engineer was. That, or her mother needed a reason to get out of the house and check onto her older daughter.

Her mother and sister were happily chatting about the Selection and the royals—her father had dodged the meet-up with work which Anastasia now regretted not doing either—while she was more occupied with looking out of the window and pretending to be interested.

"Hey, what did you write for the essay?" her sister asked curious.

"I talked about my career," Anastasia replied. As simple as it sounded, it wasn't. Top grades, top university, internships, extra credits, a highly respected job at I-TEC, a major cooperation in Illéa.

"Boring," her sister complained. "Who cares about grades? I mean…." She went on rambling about how to win a guy's heart and all, and Anastasia soon understood that her sister didn't realise that the essay question was more important than just an introduction for the palace staff.

Her sister was, evidently, dead set on becoming a princess now. While Anastasia suspected that it was more because of the status and wealth than the powers and abilities she'd have, she allowed her sister to do what she wanted. Anastasia wasn't too invested into the Selection herself.

"It's a great opportunity, I just feel obligated to enter my name," she thought. "If I was given the ability to make a difference though, I'd want to take it…."

It was weird that her family's opinions on the Selection bothered her so much more, but maybe it was just because of the constant discussions in her family. Her sister went on to how she'd want to be treated as Selected (apparently, she'd like to be treated as Queen—her younger sister was so much more sheltered than Anastasia was…) and that 'the prince' (had she ever even mentioned his name?) should pay her lots of attention.

Whenever she was just dreaming or actually seriously believing in her words, Anastasia didn't know.

"I'd rather be worried that it's all just one huge propaganda event," she pointed out. Even though Dakota was one of the provinces that had been barely touched by the war (she hadn't seen a rebel or a fight once), she had seen the propaganda against the rebels.

Anastasia absolutely didn't agree with the rebels' violence, but looking at the whole picture, she saw the government to be more at fault than she wanted it to be. If her sister was to enter the Selection (or she was, and considering the difference in applications, she was proud to say that she was more likely to be chosen), then she wouldn't want to be surrounded by the people who allowed the war to happen.

"What do you mean?" her sister asked.

"Well… I'd be worried that outside their obligations, the royals wouldn't show any interest in the Selected. Prince Ernest evidently is rather… well, you know about him. I'd be worried that the girls will just be shown around and not be given any chance to make a difference themselves, or enjoy their stay."

"…" Her sister scanned her. "Nah, you're just too negative."

"I'm not negative, I'm being realistic," Anastasia defended herself. "But, whatever." Time to change the topic before yet another issue arose. "What about your boyfriend though?"

It worked, and her sister began talking about whatever guy she was dating now. Anastasia wasn't even sure how her sister had met him—she wasn't attending university—but accepted that she somehow had managed to.

It dawned on her too late that the topic would inevitably end up in a discussion about her love life too.

"What about you, Anastasia?" her mother asked, almost accusing. She wanted her to already marry someone—Anastasia's work in a male-dominated field, with a strong career focus wasn't exactly her cup of tea.

The doorbell turned into a life saver.

"Who's that?" her sister asked curious.

"I don't know…? I'm not expecting anyone," Anastasia replied. "Dad?"

"He said he was working the whole day," her mother replied.

"Then that's indeed strange…."

Nonetheless, she rose and walked to the door of her apartment, glancing through the small peek hole of the door. She didn't recognise the stranger patiently waiting in front of her door, but the uniform made her guess that the man was a Six.

"How can I help you?" she asked through the intercom confidently.

"I am here to meet with Miss Anastasia Collins, to discuss a topic in relation to her application to the Selection. I work for the palace."

Anastasia rose an eyebrow. Huh? If, in the unlikely case, she was selected, wouldn't she only learn this until much, much later? She allowed the palace messenger to come in, telling her mother and sister that it was a guest for her and she'd take care of it.

"This might take more than a brief moment, Miss Collins," the polite man remarked.

"What is this about?" she inquired instead.

"Your application has been considered to be fit for the program to train possible ladies-in-waiting, ma'am."

"What is that?" Anastasia asked immediately. The palace servant almost seemed to be surprised by the direct question, but only almost—he caught himself before Anastasia could question anything. Maybe it was the confidence that had hit her voice only when she had been assured that her family was gone.

"A training and selection for possible ladies-in-waiting to the future Crown Princess, ma'am."

"By all respect, I'm a bio-engineer. I have no idea of what that occupation entails or would require me to do. My position at I-TEC is also rather well-paid, and interesting. I'm doing what I've always wanted to—study the environment and help to make a difference."

"You would still be able to make a difference if you were to choose to join the training, ma'am. First of all, it's no guarantee to actually be given the position, and the contacts you were to make would surely help you in your work environment." The messenger paused. "I have been informed that you are a very talented scientist, ma'am, but that a recommendation in relation to your work was turned down on the basis that you're young and inexperienced in corporate Illéa, is that correct?"

Anastasia didn't show her surprise, but she was taken by it. "Pardon me?" she asked, surprised that they knew about that. It had been an incident that occurred in the end of December—one that bothered her a lot—but she had already forgotten about it.

The palace servant didn't answer her inquiry. "As well, I have been informed that you are interested in creating your own research company. Is that correct? The information is taken from your application."

"… Yes?" Anastasia did want to—she wanted to be independent from the business and seniority that her (although very good) job entailed.

"Your background from the Waverly Institute of Technology, as well as experience in working has proven that you are a very intelligent person who would absolutely be able to make a difference and help people. A lady-in-waiting is the closest confidante to the future queen, a woman of great influence. I am sure that you have ideas that would help a lot."

"…" That actually sounded good… "But my employer wouldn't give me off so much time just for that… I don't even have that many vacation days to fill a month." Not after last year, at least.

"By law, I-TEC would be required to give you indefinite leave for the training. If any issues arise, we will take care of it."

Anastasia didn't respond immediately. Something sounded fishy, but no one was stupid enough to fake to be a government official, when that could end in a treason sentence. Why would they make it law for a thing that, going by her historical knowledge, wasn't that important?

She knew that the Selection allowed such things to happen, but…

Oh. Of course.

"This isn't for a lady-in-waiting training, isn't it?" she questioned. "This is about the Selection."

Another hint of surprise filled the messenger's face—again disappearing as fast as it had come. "If you would like to ask about that, I recommend agreeing, Miss Collins."

If the Selection was the propaganda fest she expected it to be, why disguise it as such towards possible Selected? Where was the commonly known announcement that her parents told her about, featuring the thirty-five chosen girls? This didn't make very much sense.

Maybe this was just a test run, and if anyone didn't fit in, they could just throw them out?

"I do need your decision today, ma'am," the messenger reminded her.

So, it was rushed? Why? Maybe they were worried about possible rebel outbreaks in connection to the announcements of the Selected? There were rumours about Sumner still housing some rebels… But looking at her family fighting and the possible platform she would have.

Wasn't it her duty to agree and help? Absolutely, it was.

"I am interested," she decided. "Would you mind elaborating the details?"

A satisfied smile appeared on the messenger's face. "I am glad to hear that, ma'am. From the situation, I presume that you have guests though. The information is of rather confidential nature, and isn't meant to be shared."

"Please," Anastasia nodded, "come in and give me a moment—I will take care of it."

She wasn't sure whenever the idea of making it sound like a work thing was a great idea, but she wanted to know more about this opportunity. If she was to go and push her ever-arguing mother and sister out? A sacrifice she was willing to make, in her opinion.

It was her duty to use this chance to help people.

Author's Note;

I had a bit of a struggle on how exactly I'd want to place technology since the books are so ridiculous on it (computers are a mystery, but private jets, that use computers to work, exist…) and I decided to stick with my interpretation that access to technology low-key depends on the caste and wealth. Being a One, Veira obviously has free access to anything while i.e. Rowan from the last chapter doesn't.

Now, since this kinda came up—the messengers from the palace obviously know that they might need to convince the girls since they didn't sign up for being a lady-in-waiting but a Selected. A combination of background research, NSA and the form are used to figure out what might convince them. :)

For the people who haven't submitted the full form yet-please send it to me until the end of January!

As usual, Abizeau beta'ed this; thank you! 3