THIS STORY IS BEING PUT ON HOLD.

I'm incredibly sorry, but at least for a few months or so, it has to be done.

I've been having problems trying to balance real life and writing, just in general, and it's turned out to be tiring for both me and everyone else.

I know this is practically a dead story, but I still do have a completed plot and I still intend to carry it out, whether or not it takes a few months to do so.

The reason why I'm putting this story on hold is because I don't think it's fair to keep anyone waiting for the next few months. So yeah, it'll take some time. I'll be stacking up some chapters and updating them one by one after I start writing again, so that I can shorten the time in between uploads. But anyway, it's on hold.

And I know this technically isn't a full chapter, and the quality... *sighs* But as of this moment, this is all I can offer you guys ;( Yeah, writer's block is horrible.

.:*:.

PRINCE ALEXANDER

Father taps his foot impatiently. "So? What is your opinion?"

I gulp. "I... I'm not that sure about the Selected. I mean, they're all nice girls, I guess... and they've come so far..."

"Alex, you know that sympathy is not a needed quality for the Selection. Especially with the rebels, anyone can fake a story."

"I thought this whole thing was about love?"

Father looks irritated. "Are you saying that you've found your match?"

"N-no! Of course not."

"Then choose, Alex. This is an official program. The eliminations must be done on time, which means at dinner, which means you must choose now. We've already given you forty-eight hours to think about it."

"Sir, I think you should give Prince Alexander some time to choose," Father's advisor suggests.

"I agree," Marcin says. He looks at Carthon, who nods. "This shouldn't be done hastily. We need to think carefully about the eliminations."

I look at them. "What are your thoughts on this?"

"Well..." Carthon clears his throat. "We've written down a list of potential Elite... we just need your approval, of course."

I take the portable screen from him. As I scroll through the names, I recognize a familiar pattern - a pattern I was very worried about.

"What were your standards when you chose this list?"

Marcin, Carthon, and the advisor exchange glances. After a while, Marcin speaks up.

"We observed their actions during dinner yesterday, of course. And their families... we researched countless things about them. The Elite were chosen very carefully."

I look at the three men, then at Father. "They're all Twos and Threes. Most of them come from powerful families."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"The Selection shouldn't be used as a tool to strengthen the country. This is about me meeting my true love, soulmate, whatever, although there's only a slight chance of that happening... But all you care about is who's gonna make you look good."

"Alex!" Now Father looks furious.

"What, Father?"

"Alex, you have no right whatsoever to - "

"I honestly don't care who you choose as the Elite, but I'm choosing who to send home," I interrupt rudely. Very out of character, but I don't mind.

"Of course," Carthon agrees. "There are a couple things to consider, however - "

"Veronica Irene Sonnenfeld. Take her out. Cassandra Vinci kept asking nosy questions about classified information. Belinda Katana Vlahakis is... I don't even know at this point. And - "

"Prince Alexander?"

"What?"

"Unfortunately, Veronica Irene Sonnenfeld comes from a powerful family that holds much power within our country. Her parents and even close relatives are active politicians. She also happens to be a supermodel and social media influencer who is much loved by millions of people worldwide, so taking her out may cause some problems. Belinda Katana Vlahakis also comes from a powerful family of famous actors. You may take out Cassandra Vinci, but we strongly advise you to keep the first two until the very end."

"No, thank you. Veronica intimidates me, and that Belinda girl is out of her mind."

"Alex, you know we trust your judgement," Father says, "and you've always had a way of seeing through people... But your advisors are right. This Selection is a public matter. You should also be considering other factors, such as - "

"Such as whether the Selected are mentally stable?"

Father raises an eyebrow.

"I swear, some of them are insane."

"They seemed fine to me."

"Father, Veronica Sonnenfeld tried to seduce me from the moment she set her eyes on me... first red flag. She also frightened this girl just because they were both wearing gold dresses... second red flag, and that girl had to purposefully vomit to get out of the dining hall - "

"An actor." Father narrows his eyes. "Who was that girl? She could be a rebel - "

"Father, you should be worried about Veronica, not Kaitlyn."

"Kaitlyn? Wasn't she on the list of Elite?" Father peers at the list, and shakes his head. "Remove her."

"Yes, your highness." Marcin taps on his portable screen.

"Father!"

"Yes, son?"

"You're missing the point."

"I don't believe I am."

"You know what? I'll make a deal. You choose the Elite as you wish, I don't care... strong families and whatnot... but I get to choose who to send home. I won't choose the two worst people, because for some reason you all fell in love with the worst girls in the Selection, but I choose the rest."

"Fine."

"I'm just removing anyone I don't feel a connection with, are you also fine with that?"

"Definitely. There are so many girls in the palace right now, we should be getting rid of most of them as soon as possible." Father sighs, then looks back at the screen Marcin is holding. "Since we removed Kaitlyn, we have five Elite members... Should we add another?"

"It's better to have more Elite at the start of the Selection, sir."

"Okay, then. Add..." Father exhales slowly. "Who was that other girl?"

"Novalie Castelluccio?"

"No, that other girl."

"Jacintha Fayre?"

"No, no, not that one... The Three from Gutizon."

"Vanessa Lee?"

"Yes, choose that one, she seems like a nice option. She was on the list of candidates, wasn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"Add her."

"Yes, sir."

"Is she added?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it's decided." Father crosses his arms and looks at me. "We've done our part of the deal, Alexander. Now give us the names."

.:*:.

LOGAN

After a particularly interesting encounter with one of the Selected, I slowly make my way up the stairs with a destination in mind - when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a glimmer of blond hair.

My head immediately turns to the direction of the hair. I catch a glimpse of a short girl with hair that goes just past her shoulders. She's wearing heels, which is unusual, but as soon as I see her, I start toward her.

Unfortunately, the palace is unnecessarily big - and unnecessarily complicated. When I reach the corner she turned, I see three different options of hallways she could've taken. When I catch sight of the familiar blond hair, she's already turning yet another corner.

I can't help myself. I ignore the floating cameras and run as fast as I can. I can hear her heels clicking on the marble floors. I'm getting closer.

I turn the corner.

She's standing there, her back to me, observing a painting on the wall. Her hair is not the color I remember - it's lighter, a color similar to the gold patterns on the walls. But it's possible that after all these years, her hair would've changed - and I might have not noticed, in the frenzy of dinner.

She would've changed.

I can practically hear my own heart beat as I take a step forward.

She turns around, and my heart leaps... and falls.

It's not her.

At first, the green eyes - paired with gold eyeshadow - make me think it's her. But I look closer and I can see how she's missing the yellow flecks in her eyes, the scatter of freckles on her nose, and the small mole by her right eye. This girl isn't her.

I suddenly feel the ache in my legs, the one that comes from running around so much after so many years of hardly any exercising. I've run all the way here - for nothing.

It's not her. It's not her. It's not her.

The girl in front of me offers me a small smile. "Hello. Any reason why you stopped by?" She has a slight British accent.

"I, uh - I apologize. I thought you were someone else."

"It's fine." The girl grins. "Wow, you're pretty out of shape for an Illéan prince. You're panting really hard, you know."

"An Illéan prince? Why, are Illéan princes supposed to be in shape?"

"That's the stereotype, at least. And from what I can tell, Royals like to live up to stereotypes."

I think for a while. "I guess they do," I agree. "It's not really our choice, though."

"Of course it's not!" She scoffs. "Nothing any of us do is done by our choice."

"Not exactly - "

"I, for one, never chose to enter this Selection. I mean, I guess I technically did, but if I had anything better to do, I never would've entered in the first place."

"Wow. That's very..." I search for the right word, "jaundiced of you to say."

The girl laughs. "You have an interesting character."

"Everyone does."

She laughs again. "Okay."

Then she turns back around and resumes contemplating the painting. "Are you gonna keep standing there, or what?"

"Sorry. I'll go," I say, and start back towards where I came from.

A ping sounds from the girl's pocket, and she pulls out her screen. As I walk past, I catch a glimpse of the page. It's showing her social media profile, with thousands of unread notifications popping up on the side.

The most shocking part of it all is her follower count.

She has over three million followers.

Three million.

I shake my head. Things are getting more confusing than ever.