Thank you all for your patience!
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Fallon Hill, 7, Clermont
A week passed in a blur. Lessons packed one after another filled Fallon's days: learning the best way to hold her fork -one out of six forks, of course-, how to wave at the public, and how to minuet. It felt unreal to be here in the palace, trying to adapt to what her life could look like in a few months.
There were no further eliminations, but no dates, either. Fallon was honestly glad not to have to worry about either. Her days were spent with the other girls, trying to survive the grueling lessons. After dinner, if the remedial dance class she was in with some of the other girls wasn't in session, she wrote letters to her family recounting every detail of her life.
She just beginning to settle into how things were, until Friday appeared, and Teresa uttered the words that would send her heart tumbling to her stomach.
"It's Report day, ladies!" The woman trilled sending them into a tizzy. "Please be ready to travel to the studio for filming at five o'clock. Dress to impress, after all, this is your debut for all Illéa!"
She sidled out, pleased to be leaving them in a state of such uproar.
Fallon sat back in her seat, feeling a little light-headed as she laughed breathlessly. Just the thought of all of Illéa watching her made her want to hide forever.
"Oh my god," a girl said on her left, and Fallon looked over.
Anise Collison was anxiously fanning her face, looking a little green around the gills. When she noticed Fallon staring at her, she mustered a shaky smile.
"Sorry," Anise said. "This just feels totally surreal. I can't believe we're going to be on The Report!"
"Me either," Fallon replied grimly. "I'm already terrified, honestly."
"Hey everyone," Leonie from Likely called, and everyone's heads swiveled toward the petite girl. "How about we all get ready together in the Women's Room? It'll be really fun, and everyone can bring their maids and stuff!"
The girls exchanged glances, uncertain, and Fallon decided to pipe up, feeling bad as Leonie's face fell at the lack of enthusiasm.
"I think that's a great idea," Fallon smiled. "After all, wouldn't it be embarrassing if someone showed up in the same clothes as someone else because they didn't know the other person was wearing it?"
That seemed to convince everyone, and the girls scattered to collect their maids, makeup, dresses, and accessories. All the girls, even the stand-offish ones like Magdalena and Nova reappeared in half an hour or so, with an entourage that set up in their own corner of the mirrored counter.
A rainbow of dresses were hanging all around the room, and powders flew. At any given moment, the counter was covered with hot curling or straightening irons, and the maids gossiped loudly among themselves.
Fallon was honestly bewildered by the intimacy in the room. She'd never partaken in much stereotypical 'girl culture' when she was younger. In fact, she'd never had many female friends on the whole.
But somehow, these girls that she'd met less than a week ago felt impossibly close to her as they exchanged jewelry, provided opinions on shoes, and bantered merrily while they got ready. Laughter rang through the room, and Fallon felt an indescribable sense of togetherness that united the whole room.
She felt a strange longing at the idea of not having this when she went back home. Fallon had never minded not having female friends, but now she knew what she was missing, and she didn't want to miss it. Reminder to make girl friends, Fallon thought as Anise modeled a pair of shoes.
"Well, what do you think?" Anise asked. The heels were the same pink as her dress, soft and unassuming.
"I mean, it matches," Fallon said, at a loss. She wasn't used to giving fashion advice, so she really had no idea what to say. That was usually her criteria for colors when she left the house back in Clermont.
Anise wrinkled her nose, pensive. "Hey, Stefanie, what do you think?"
A girl with inky black hair rolled in curlers turned, and her gaze zeroed in on the shoes.
"I mean, it's cute," Stefanie offered, before looking over at her companion. "Maggie, what do you think?"
Maggie squinted at the shoes. "I think you're playing it too safe. I mean, it's The Report, this is your chance to really make an impression."
"That's true," Fallon agreed, looking between the three of them. "From what I've heard, the public's opinion of you can really help a Selected girl make it to later rounds."
Anise knitted her brow together, stepping out of the shoes. "So, what should I wear instead, then?"
"Ladies!" Stefanie spoke up, drawing attention to herself. "Anise needs shoes, who has a pair that would look good with her dress?"
A fountain of noise sprang up around the room as the girls all searched for the perfect pair, and then one voice rose above the rest.
"Lena has a pair that would look really pretty!" A redhead girl -Cam? Clem?- exclaimed, holding up a pair of shoes with a gold heel and delicate detailing across the toes.
The crowd of girls cooed and gushed over the shoes, but Lena immediately jumped to her feet and snatched the shoes back. With only one of her intense smokey eyes painted on, she looked slightly deranged as she glared at Clem.
"No way. These are my shoes, and I'm not sharing," Lena snapped, tossing her mane of perfect curls. "You all should have brought your own shoes."
"Hey, c'mon," Fallon said, at the same time Maggie Blackthorn spun angrily on her heel.
"You're not even wearing them," Maggie pointed out, scowling. "Why can't you just lend her the damn shoes?"
"Are you for real?" Lena asked, tilting her head as she glared down at Maggie. "What do they teach you in those Four schools? You want me to give away advantages to my opponents? It's a competition that I'm trying to win, why on earth would I do that?"
Fallon hated to admit it, but she kind of understood where Lena was coming from. She didn't have any obligation to share, especially not with one of her competitors. Clearly Lena was going to do whatever it took to win, and honestly, Fallon sort of respected it. She had no like for the girl herself, but she recognized fierce determination when she saw it. It was humbling, in a way.
"Here, Anise," Lynn Copper spoke up, holding up a pair of satin heels with glimmering ribbons that would lace up the ankle. "You can wear these, I'm not wearing them tonight anyway."
"Thanks," Anise said softly, taking them.
With the problem solved, everyone turned back away and a din of noise rose again. Everyone gave Lena a wide berth except for a hesitant Clem. Even her maids seemed alienated to her, speaking curtly and only when necessary.
Lena sat tall, ignoring the cold shoulder being presented to her, but Fallon couldn't help feeling bad. Lena had been completely within her rights to deny the shoes.
Sighing, she got to her feet and walked over to Lena.
"Hey, I just wanted to say, I know why you didn't give her the shoes," Fallon started. "-and I don't really blame you. There was no reason that you had to share, and that's fine."
Lena didn't look at her, her chin lifted defiantly. "Did you come here to give me your blessing?" She asked sarcastically, adjusting the jewels at her throat. "I don't need approval from a Seven, but muchas gracias."
"Sorry for bothering you then," Fallon shrugged. "Good luck tonight."
"I don't need luck," Lena sneered, leaning forward to stare down at her reflection. She met Fallon's eyes in the mirror. "I have skill."
Fallon gave half a smile. That confidence was enviable. She could only wish that the idea of being in front of the entire country affected her as little as it seemed to get to Lena.
She walked back to her seat, feeling a little lifted. It was like by speaking to Lena, a little of that fearlessness had latched onto her.
No, Fallon didn't like Magdalena Cruz, but that didn't mean she couldn't learn something from her.
Kalee Meyers, 4, Hansport
Kalee was feeling out of her body.
Yes, physically she was sitting in a limo with Fallon, Stefanie, Anise, Leonie and Maggie, but mentally, she was absent. She leaned against the door, pressing her cheek to the cool glass of the window.
People lined the streets, cheering as the limos passed. She watched them, feeling a detached sort of curiosity. How strange it was to imagine she might have once been them.
But she wasn't. She was Kalee Meyers, Three, from Hansport. That was what all of her being, all of her quirks and passions and flaws, that was all she had been reduced to.
Kalee could still recall exactly the lilt in Barton's voice when he announced her name; the way he gave the second syllable in her name a little boost, the sharp cut-off on the 's' of her surname. The way her mother had stared at her with such adoration was branded on the inside of her eyes.
What was she to do now that she was here? Kalee knew she didn't love Everett, nor did she think she could ever learn to. So what did she do? Hang in until he gave her the axe? What was the point of all this?
Kalee sighed quietly, feeling heavy. It had only been a week, but she felt exhausted, bearing the weight of Illéa's attention.
Apparently her melancholy caught someone else's attention.
"Hey," Fallon said gently, nudging her with a knee. "You feeling alright, Meyers?"
She blinked, unaccustomed to being addressed by her last name. "Oh- um, yeah. Sorry, just… tired, I guess. I mean, nervous. Feeling nervous."
"Me too," Leonie gushed with wide eyes, and launched into a rant about how nervous she was. Kalee released a little breath, glad for the attention of the girls to be off her.
"You sure?" Fallon whispered. Her eyes were pale honey in the light that passed over her face as they drove steadily closer to the studio. "You seem a little off."
A mechanical chuckle escaped Kalee, and she brushed the concern off. "Yeah, I'm great. Don't worry about me."
But the weight of her thoughts followed her as they pulled to a stop outside the studio and paraded into the studio. The girls bustled and fluttered as they exchanged fears and hopes, but Kalee couldn't find it in herself to put in the effort. It was just stumping her, trying to figure out what she was here for.
Hadn't this started as a favor to her mom? When had it gone from a box to check so her mother would get off her back, to a dedicated cause she was putting effort into? She didn't even want to be queen, nor did she want to be married to Everett Schreave, for that matter.
"Five minutes until we go live," someone said in the distance, and Kalee turned towards the sound, startling from her thoughts.
"Five minutes," she repeated. The other girls leapt into frenzy, buzzing with energy.
Five minutes. Then she'd be unveiled for all Illéa to gawk at, like some animal at a zoo.
"Hey, Anise," she said suddenly, and the angelic girl turned towards her in a swirl of peachy skirts.
"Yes?"
"Why are you in the Selection?" Kalee asked before she could think better of it.
Anise looked surprised at the question, but she offered a small smile.
"Do you know what I do back in my province, Kalee?" She said, tilting her head. "I'm a baker. I bake. I grew up in a bakery, I baked my whole life, I will probably bake for the rest of my life."
Kalee just watched, unsure of how to respond. Was Anise happy about that?
"And that's fine. I love to bake," Anise shrugged. "But when the Selection was announced, I looked at my life and thought- what if this was all i ever was? What if I never saw myself grow to be anything more than the friendly baker who never left her own province, for god's sake?
"And I thought to myself, if there was a chance, even the slightest chance that I could change myself or someone else for the better, if there was the most miniscule opportunity for me to do something I would never do again, I had to take it. And I did, and look at me here." Anise gave a sweet smile. "I've grown, Kalee. I'm growing. That's really all I could ask for from this opportunity."
Kalee was taken aback by the striking strength in Anise. She felt infinitely more ridiculous next to her, just fumbling her way through this Selection for a favor to her mom. God, she would never be as much a force of sheer good as Anise Collison.
"Thank you," Kalee said quietly, feeling even heavier than before.
"Sure. Oh, and, Kalee?" Anise said, before she turned away. "Good luck."
Kalee smiled wearily, before drifting to the fringe of where the other girls were standing. Across the room, she could see Prince Everett pacing back and forth, and his parent speaking quietly to each other.
Cal was being dusted over by a makeup girl, but his eyes met hers almost immediately. His cheeks rose in a smile as soon as they locked eyes, and she felt herself grinning back, despite her tiredness. His face flashed to sheepishness as the makeup girl said something, and his face held perfectly still while she finished her work. But after a moment, his eyes slid back to Kalee.
It felt weirdly intimate to be staring at each other across the large space, even while the whole world buzzed around them. Trying to dispel the tension, she pulled a silly face.
Cal burst into a light laugh, which she could hear faintly, even across the space. The makeup girl scolded him again, but holstered her brushes and left him alone at last. Cal made to walk towards her, but then one of the set managers stopped him for a conversation.
Kalee turned away, just a little disappointed he'd been thwarted in his attempt to come over. She liked his company quite a lot. Ah well, there were other times.
"All Selected, please follow me so you may be seated," another one of the workers said, waving them forward.
Kalee obediently followed to where he pointed with the rest of the girls, moving as a mass. Her question from before pounded a steady rhythm in the fringes of her mind as they inched forward.
Why am I here?
Why am I here?
Why am I here?
A tap on her shoulder made her turn, and she instantly locked gazes with a familiar shade of glass-green.
"Kalee!" Cal said with a radiant smile, like starlight and gold. "Good luck, okay?"
-oh.
Kalee stared up at him with a terrible and wonderful realization crashing into her.
"Your Highness! Over here please!"
Cal turned, scowling in annoyance at the call.
"I have to go," he said reluctantly. "But come over to my room after filming, I have a book I think you'll love. Okay?"
"Okay," she said faintly.
"And Kalee?" Cal shot her another blinding smile. "You're going to be great. They'll love you."
With that he was gone, and Kalee was being shepherded onto risers on the stage with one word now beating behind her eyes.
Oh.
Crown Prince Everett Schreave
"Good evening, and welcome back to the Illéa Capital Report! I'm your host, Barton Allory, and I'm joined by his Royal Highness, Prince Everett, and the nation's lucky Selected for a special insider look into the country's most watched and anticipated event," Barton boomed with his brassy baritone. "Before we get started, please will all rise for the national anthem."
The room got to their feet with a rustle of clothing, and Everett placed a fist over his heart as the familiar intro started up in a rousing melody. He took a deep breath and began to sing along with everyone else. Even the Report staff were singing from the wings, fists over their left breast.
"In darkness and in war, when the old world lost its way,
In freedom and in justice she sprang forth.
When good men found a reason to stand as one,
Illéa rose from the ashes of before.
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Illéa, Illéa, fire of my heart,
Illéa, Illéa, may we never part.
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May her rivers flow on ever smoothly,
May her mountains stand forever tall.
May she forgive the sins of the past,
Illéa, my pride and soul.
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Illéa, Illéa, fire of my heart,
Illéa, Illéa, may we never part.
Illéa, Illéa, wherever we may roam,
Illéa, Illéa will always be our home."
The final repeat rang through the room, and Everett felt a sudden pang of ice-cold shock. This was it. This was the country he was inheriting. Illea, with all of its flaws and all. It was his. It was nearly impossible to believe, honestly. For the first time since the whole Selection had started, he felt an enormous relief that he was going to have a queen to stand by his side.
He couldn't imagine trying to handle all of it by himself.
"So, Your Highness," Barton started with a mischievous smile, "-why don't you tell me about your experience so far in this Selection?"
Everett chuckled a little for the sake of the cameras. "Well, Barton, if I'm honest, there hasn't been much to tell."
"Surely you jest, Your Highness," Barton grinned playfully. "I mean, we at the Report certainly have some juicy pictures."
Everett turned to the screen behind him, where a picture appeared of him and Bella strolling down the lawns, arm and arm. They looked happy, he noticed absently. When was the last time he'd seen himself looking so carefree?
"And another one," Barton said, and a different picture flashed across the screen, where he and Bella were clinking glasses of rosé.
"It was a very pleasant day, I'll admit," he smirked and glanced back at Bella.
She met his gaze quickly and looked away. From the way she was slouching in her chair, she must have wanted to dig a hole into the ground and die in it. She never did seem a fan of publicity.
"How about for you, Lady Belladonna?" Barton asked, and she flushed dark, hastily sitting up.
"Ah, yes, it was good," she said. "The prince is such riveting company."
She and Everett shared a glance at that, and he raised his eyebrows at the sardonic look in her onyx eyes. Bold of her to make fun of him on national television.
"Well, it's no surprise to Illéa that you two have hit it off so well," Barton remarked. "After all, you two already seem to have couples' pictures."
Everett looked to the screen again and froze at the image that greeted him. Someone had taken similar drunk, passed-out pictures from both him and Bella and stitched them together in an obviously amateur photo edit. He forced himself to keep a smile frozen to his face as he turned back to Barton.
"That's certainly something, Barton," he said through gritted teeth.
He could see the furious figure of his father's silhouette storming across the studio in the corner of his eye. Whoever approved that would be getting an earful from the king. Everett might have pitied the poor bastard if he couldn't see Bella silently trying to die in her seat.
"But Lady Belladonna isn't the only girl you've been sighted taking an interest in," Barton said. "Here you are pictured with Lady Magdalena during first impressions. What exactly is going on in your head during this photo, Your Highness?"
Everett was surprised at that. He hadn't known first impressions was being photographed. In the photo, Lena was leaning in close with a half-lidded gaze boring into his. Was that how close they had been? He couldn't really recall.
"Ah, mostly nervous," Everett smiled fakely. "Len- Lady Magdalena can be quite intimidating."
Lena let out a bell-like giggle, the picture of bashful embarrassment. "I assure you, I was much more nervous. You must understand how hard it it to make an impression in five minutes, Barton."
"Of course!" Barton agreed. "And how about you, Lady Fallon? How was first impressions for you?"
"Just Fallon is quite alright," the girl beamed. "I'm going to have to agree with Lady Magdalena, I was very nervous!"
"Is that so? You didn't seem very timid. We have a quote here..." Barton cleared his throat. "An anonymous source recalled you as inviting the prince to your bedroom later that day. Your Highness, I'm sure we're all wondering if you took her up on that?"
Both Everett and Fallon were sputtering at that, because out of context, it really did sound bad. Everett was trying to collect himself, but he couldn't believe the scandalous confidence of Barton's interrogation. Who did he think he was? That cutthroat bastard!
"With all due respect, Mr. Allory," a new voice chimed in, striking and confident. "-I believe you overstep your bounds. His Highness is under no obligation to answer your invasive questions. However, no such business has occurred during the Selection, if you must know. Kindly remember your place, sir."
Everett dumbly looked around as Nova Bridges, of all people, came to his rescue. She glanced over at him with her burning green eyes, and gave him a slight dip of the chin. He could hardly believe the impropriety firing back and forth.
"Well said, Lady Nova," Barton said after a tense moment. "Now tell me, what is it you do outside of the Selection?"
Nova smiled coolly at him, like a wolf creeping in for a kill. "I'm the CEO of a company. It helps start-up charities get funding and publicity."
"Of course," Barton said, smiling and tilting his head. "Well, you are very confident. You are young for such success, aren't you?"
"I frequently say success is a better indicator of experience than years achieved," Nova countered, staring him down. "After all, you are quite young as well, Barton."
"You flatter me," Barton remarked cheekily, and the tension in the room finally dissipated as the girls laughed. "We're going to commercial, but after the break come back for a Q and A with the rest of the Selected girls and a special segment with the royal family!"
The bell rang, signalling that they were off air, and Everett sprang to his feet, blood boiling.
"Barton, what the hell was that?" he demanded, striding forward.
At the same time, King Jonathan stormed up, blustering, "Allory, see me in the hallway!"
Barton's face whitened like a sheet under the combined wrath of the Schreave men. "Yes sir. Your understanding sir, I only did what my supervisors-,"
"No matter, they've been fired," Jonathan snapped. "Now save it for a more private setting, Allory!"
Everett's anger deflated as he watched Barton scurry fearfully after his father. A flicker of pity ignited in him, but it was diminished when he saw Bella and Fallon both looking absolutely overwhelmed, crowded by the other girls. A distinct air of righteous anger surrounded the group.
"He had no right to say such things," Nova was assuring Fallon as he approached. "If the king's staff doesn't deal with him, I will call my lawyers and have them deal with it."
"No need to worry, Nova," Everett called, closing in on them, sending girls scattering left and right. "My father will take care of it. Thank you for your assistance on the show. Lady Fallon, Lady Bella, are you both alright?"
Fallon met his gaze with open surprise. She rushed to fall into a sloppy curtsy, going pink.
"Uh, yes. I want to apologize for what I said, Your Highness. If it came off that way in impressions, I really didn't mean it to," she blurted out. "I know my behavior embarrassed you back there, and I'll understand if-,"
"I'm not sending you home, Fallon," Everett said with a half-smile. "You weren't to blame for what happened back there. Lady Bella, are you alright?"
"Fine," Bella grunted, staring back with darkened eyes. "I was kinda expecting it, to be honest."
He stared at her a moment longer, and then nodded, satisfied, when he decided she was telling the truth.
"Good," he said. "I'm sorry to all of you guys, that was kinda a disaster back there. But I'm absolutely sure the rest of the segment won't be that way."
The girls all rippled with nervous laughter, and one of the crew shouted, "Three minutes, and we're back!"
Everett sighed and prepared himself to go back into the war zone.
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This chapter is so long, I hope y'all like it! I meant to fit more girls in, but I just ran out of space. Next chapters Eleanor (long overdue, im so sorry), more Maggie, and Isla.
I know Barton's behavior was insane in this chapter but I hope it was dealt with appropriately.
Also! My friend Millyna (of The Red Herring) has a discord server! If you want to hang with me and other awesome selection authors, like tyozzie123 (How To Win A Crown), Miss Kaydence (Divided), Abizeau (Yesterday Meets Tomorrow), and more, just join! The link is dis cord . g g / pjY8GE7 (without the spaces)
Another announcement, there is a chance for more SYOC in the future! So keep following, and later in the story you will be allowed to submit a character! So stay with it, and drop a review! It keeps me motivated to write!
Tumblr is octaviastareyes if you like bnha and Voltron, and check out my Pinterest board for this story at Burning Ashes SYOC!