AN: Fresh out of JAS and I'm already writing a new fic. I guess I don't know what breaks are lmao! Anyways, let's thank Milly/a singularity for betaing this back in January when I caved and wrote this! More notes at the bottom, but this chapter title is from Come Out and Play by Billie Eilish!
The Court of the Crown
Chapter One: look up, out of your window
Friday, December 31st, 2219
Crown Prince Evan Pollux Schreave
Evan knows that he should've dressed more presentably. A suit or at least a solid-colored polo and khakis would have worked. Still, Evan decided that a red and teal flannel, unbuttoned to show off a white tee shirt, and a pair of jeans would do perfectly fine. In his eyes, he was just going home. There was no reason to dress up just to see his family.
Other people would disagree with him. Going to see the King and Queen is reason enough to dress up. Evan is going to see a good portion of Illéa's royal court and the thirty-five girls fighting for his hand in marriage. To most, this seems like the perfect reason to dress up.
Evan isn't most people. He finds comfort in the common things. Even if he's supposed to enjoy uncommon and indescribably fancy things in life, like private plane rides to foreign countries and balls lasting all night, Evan doesn't. He likes starry nights atop abandoned warehouses and having to do things for himself; the simple things in life excite him to no end. That's just how Evan always has been.
He sighs. Everybody wonders why he went so far for college. Everybody wonders why he didn't stay with the girls. Everybody wonders why he isn't out, being the perfect prince he is trained to be. But nobody asked him and nobody stopped him; that's why he's here where he is now, driving back into Angeles from a college away from it all.
Riding the highways in the backseat of the limo, he sees sunny Angeles speed on by him through the window. It doesn't snow in Angeles.
Being the Crown Prince means that he's protected within every inch of his life. Not a moment goes by when he's truly alone. Security risks keep it that way. Tons of things are security risks. He can't even drive to school himself or attend a class without at least two guards at every entrance. His off-campus apartment is rented out so that only him, Taylor, his maintenance staff, and his guards can stay there. Being on campus has too many people, as well as an apartment building.
Most of the time he's alright with that. But, for example, when he's trying to have one-on-one time with one of his classmates, it makes the situation difficult.
Anyways, Ev taps the side of the limo, looking out through the window. His brother Taylor, sits next to him with his earbuds in. They've been on the road for two hours now. They go to two different colleges but are riding back into town together. The only difference is that Taylor will be returning when the semester starts up again; Evan will not. He has thirty-five young ladies awaiting him at the palace. Most of them have been there for thirteen years, training for the selection and to become Queen.
Evan sits up as the car stops. He looks out of the front window. Taylor, noticing the sudden stop (in the middle of the highway mind you) takes an earbud out and asks, "What happened?"
Before Evan can answer, the guard sitting upfront with their driver responds, "Car crash up ahead of us."
"Don't worry, Your Highness," the driver speaks this time, " you'll make it home before lunchtime. We'll be getting off at the next exit and take an alternate path."
"Did anyone die?" His eyebrows raise out of curiosity, not contempt.
"Two, but the son is in critical condition," Taylor answers. Evan looks to him quizzingly and he explains, "The news."
"Ah."
They get off of the interstate and head into what tourists imagine of Angeles. They can see the ocean off in the distance on one side and a sunny city on the other side. Nobody is on said beaches, it's too cold to do so. Even so, Evan appreciates the view.
"Hey," Evan says, not looking at Taylor, but clearly talking to him, "Tell dad that we'll be back a little later than planned. My phone is dead."
"You should've charged it," Taylor replies.
He defends himself, "I did!"
"I didn't know texting Lee Weathers for four hours straight was considered charging."
"It was on the charger!"
"Was the charger plugged in?"
"No," Evan admits, "It wasn't."
Taylor smiles, "and that's your fault."
The conversation immediately stops and Evan continues to watch through the window, seeing sunny Angeles pass him by. The car is silent as he drifts off into a nap, the lack of sleep last night catching up to him.
Taylor wakes Evan up as the limo pulls into the front gates. He slowly sits up and Taylor tells him, "Her Majesty, Lyra wants you to meet her in the parlor."
Evan sighs, "Alright."
The car comes to a halt. Evan, his guard, and Taylor all exit the limo. A set of maids takes Evan's things from the car in front and Taylor's things from the car out back. Evan and Taylor immediately head towards the wide-open doors. The cream, brightly lit halls welcomes them home.
He spots a maid or two, but not a single selected. Most are probably in classes or in the Women's room. Neither are places Evan particularly feels like visiting.
Evan opens the door to the parlor and sees his mother and Lady Fallon, engaged in a cup of tea. They each have a book out, classical literature from centuries ago are in their hands. It looks like a small book club is in session.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"Honey," his mother rises and sweeps him into a hug, "you're home!"
Fallon rises and locks eyes with Evan as he hugs his mother in return. Not focused on the hug, but on Lady Fallon, he says absentmindedly, "Yeah, the semester is over."
"It was over two weeks ago, young man." His mother undos the hug and kisses him on the cheek, "I was expecting you home for Christmas!"
"I'm sorry." He has no excuse for his actions. Evan doesn't have any good excuse for not going home for Christmas. At least he's here for New Year and the New Years' ball. In all honesty, he doesn't want to be back. Evan likes Berkeley; there is not as many paparazzi and the crushing weight of 'I'm going to rule soon and one of these girls are going to be my wife' isn't lingering in the air.
Fallon curtsies, grabbing his attention, "I'm glad you're back, Your Highness."
"Thank you, Lady Fallon." Evan stands there, his hands in his pocket and his back too straight, "I'm glad to be back."
"Excuse us and notify a maid to come and get some fresh tea for us?" The Queen asks this of Fallon calmly, putting an end to their discussion. "I'll send a maid to come around later."
"Yes, Your Majesty." She picks up her book and heads out without another word, closing the parlor door behind her.
"Oh Evan," His mother gestures to the chair Fallon was in, "please sit down; we have much to catch up on."
"So... you're still meeting with Lady Fallon weekly?"
"Why would I stop, honey?" She sits and crosses her legs. A maid brings them fresh tea; it's peppermint, the family favorite. Lyra continues, "She is a wonderful girl. I've seen her grow up to the woman she is today. She's making the country and I, proud. We are lucky to have such a well-versed girl here at the palace."
"Yeah, she's-" Evan nods along, "-nice."
An image of a magazine cover with her on it crosses his mind; she's not looking at the camera, making her more demure. There are lights being held in her hand and she's outside. No doubt that Aisling went over the moon when this nice photograph was posted of one of the girls. It's something she could instantly say is acceptable for release.
"I want you to take her to the New Years Ball as your official date."
'Fallon Heathers is Lyra's favourite. Probably everybody's.' Evan thinks, 'Usually, though, she's not so bold about it. Good to know I'm not allowed to choose how and when to date each girl.'
Evan's eyes widen, "That's straight to the point, isn't it?"
Lyra brushes the comment off, "I'm not going to make the case for Fallon, it's obvious that she's a wonderful candidate. Also, it'd be a nice homage for the first ball you ever went to. Remember, you got all dressed up in your little suit and stuttered your way through a little speech I helped you write to ask her out. I still have the video."
"Don't pull it out!" Evan brings his hands to his face, covering the growing redness, "I remember! I remember!"
"You were the cutest little thing, Evan," his mother proclaims, "Don't be embarrassed."
Evan doesn't reply, but he removes his hands, the redness of his face still there.
Lyra asks her son, sitting up and crossing her ankles whilst sipping her tea, "So Evan, are you going to listen to me?"
He bites back his tongue and nods.
"Good," she rises, "I hope we can do this again."
Evan thinks the opposite of what he says, but he puts a smile on his face while he is pulled into another hug, "I hope so as well."
She walks out, the empty teacup left sitting on the tray and her son left standing in the parlor room.
Prince Evan takes a deep breath. He's already agreed to this earlier today, but actually asking Fallon out is another situation entirely. His mind is scattered and his breaths shorten. He's hopelessly lost for about twenty minutes and buries his face into his hands when he has to ask a guard for the directions to Lady Fallon's room.
Today hasn't been the best of days for him.
"Thank you, sir," Evan's voice is quiet, timid, he's obviously embarrassed. He can't even navigate himself around his own home, even if it's not really a home anymore. The walls look the same; cream, classically inspired, housing portraits of Illéa's past and present leaders, but it isn't a home. The walls are now unfamiliar and intrusive.
The guard holds back a laugh at his superior, "No problem, Your Highness."
Evan stares at the door, collecting his thoughts, but it's no use. He can't get the right words to say to Lady Fallon. He thickly swallows, trying to not focus on his thoughts anymore. Evan's arm goes stiff as he starts to absentmindedly shake it.
He doesn't remember when he got nervous talking to her, only that it happened before he left for college. His mother certainly hasn't noticed or doesn't care because she's obviously pushing them together.
Evan thickly swallows again as he backs into the door across from Fallon's. It's the girl from Bankston's room. He hopes that she's either not there or doesn't care that someone just hit her door.
The door to Lady Fallon's room opens whilst he's mid-panic. He can see the posters on her back wall, but not much else. He's more occupied with Lady Fallon, who is currently exiting said room.
"Your Highness," she does another solo-curtsy in front of him today, "I wasn't expecting you."
"Well," he scrambles to compose himself, holding his still shaking arm with the other behind his back, "I wanted to ask you to the New Years Ball."
"Are you going to?" There's a layer of sarcasm underneath her voice that Evan didn't expect.
Evan lets out a stale laugh, nervousness biting up from inside his stomach, "Yeah, I am."
He takes a deep breath, but Fallon interrupts him, Evan notes that she's more rigid now, but doesn't do anything with the information. Her impeccable straight posture against all odds stands straighter than before as she continues, "No need; I accept. Besides, you're mother told me in advance."
"Oh," Evan comments, "Well, what does your dress look like?"
"I'll have one of my maids bring it to you so we'll match," Fallon tells him, "Now if you may excuse me please, I have a board meeting to attend regarding the 'Lights of Tomorrow Foundation' and my ride is out front. I shall see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," he's all but calmed down now, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Evan watches Fallon leave down the hall and around the corner. She looks as if she controls the world. Not much has changed about her in his eyes.
He remembers their friendship pre-college, pre-selection, pre-everything. When they were just friends. No pressure to be anything important yet. They were just Evan and Fallon.
Evan missed it. With every fiber of his being, he misses the similarities they used to share: a love of Shakesphere and Pokémon, the importance to look good in the eyes of Her Majesty, a heightened sense of curiosity. But now, he watches her walk away, she's a different girl than the one he knew her by.
Evan's room in the palace is nowhere near the selected's rooms. Luckily for him, he remembers where it is. Down the halls and up a flight of stairs. It's on the opposite side of the castle and on the third floor, away from the selected, but at most a ten-minute walk to and from their rooms.
Evan sits on top of his bed, staring at the massive tv that still looks brand new. He hasn't turned it on in two years; being away making that possible. He wouldn't know what to watch anyways; television is in the back of his mind. Right now, his attention should go towards the selection. The selection he didn't want to start but knew was coming, mind you.
A pile of gifts sits in the corner of the room; they're probably from his selected. He wasn't here to participate in this year's gift exchange. Guilt rising over him, he grabs his stationary and goes to sit by the pile. Putting on Christmas music through his room's speakers, he starts to go through his gifts.
At the top of the pile sits a red box with a black ribbon. The nametag reveals it's from Sierra. A nervous laugh arises as he grabs the box. Opening it, he finds a suit. It's designer; Sierra wouldn't accept anything less.
The laugh goes to a smile at the gift. He has to admit, the suit looks fantastic. It's solid and simple except for the tie; it's a nice, striped pattern. It's fashionable. Sierra wouldn't accept anything less.
The thank you note is easy to make; he's made countless of these in his lifetime. They're an easy formality.
His smile stays as he holds the suit. Clothes haven't always been his interest, but he remembers his fondest memory with the Sierra. It was fashion week in Italy; his parents had a meeting with their royal family, but Sierra and Evan were invited to Milan for a wide variety of shows. He was so clueless about anything going on, but Sierra was enjoying herself immensely. She was talking about it for weeks afterward.
His smile turns from grateful to sad as the memory replays. He's been gone for so long, only stopping by when he had to. None of the selected have had a meaningful relationship with him for the past two years and largely, it's his fault.
Evan starts to think, "What if the girls are all mad at me? What if they all hate me?"
Putting the gift down, he finishes writing the note. The handwriting is messy, but he doesn't care about it. His thoughts are racing once more today.
"What if Fallon told them everything? About the date? About the selection? About how awkward I was? About how mom forced us together? About my outburst?" He starts to shake his arm, but grabs it with the other, "No. Evan, you gotta take a breath. It's one dinner with them; Then an interview and these notes. It'll be fine. All will be fine."
He heads to the dining hall, dinner should be starting soon anyways. The letters are now at the back of his mind while panic sits, seething slowly. Taking a breath, he goes to see all thirty-five selected vying for his hand in marriage and a permanent spot on this court.
The girls are all standing to the right of their assigned chair. His father probably wasn't joining him, neither King Dwyn's mistresses. The selection starting increases their workload. However, Evan can see his mother and Taylor standing there already. That means they are waiting on him.
They're waiting on him. Just like they were probably doing at Christmas. On his birthday. On holidays after holidays. Events after events. And he wasn't there. He wasn't there.
Evan flashes a smile and takes a deep breath. He tries to ignore the sweat dripping down his forehead, but his senses feel as if he's on overdrive. It also doesn't help that he hasn't eaten all day.
"Your Highness," The girls don't look shocked to see him. Some it's gratefulness; some it's dread; others it's indifference. They continue to speak in synced, probably due to the years of training, "We are ecstatic to have you with us."
"Thank you," Evan grabs his pocket, trying to reign in the arm threatening to shake and give away his nerves over the situation. He continues, "I'm happy to be back."
He takes his seat. Evan's seated across from his mother and Lady Fallon locks him in from the left. To his right is the King's seat and nobody sits in the King's seat. Evan stands, he's already stressed out and his mother is meddling into his life once more.
"You all may be seated." Lyra says.
As if they are all a succinct machine, they all hit the chair at once. Some habits never die apparently.
"How's college been?" Fallon asks, she's perfect, as always. Not a single piece about her is out of place.
The small area of selected who can hear both Fallon and Evan listen quietly. Some, for gossip sakes; others, for genuine interest in Evan.
"Good, good." Evan replies, "Eye-opening and a nice break from palace life."
Evan wouldn't admit it was funny to see peers go wild and be "adults", but it's totally what he's thinking. A memory of a good party and stopping by various clubs (in school, not bars) pop into his head, calming him down substantially.
"That's good." Fallon replies, "College is a wonderful experience. It helps us expand our minds and learn vast things we wouldn't have the opportunity to do in compulsory education."
As the food comes out, the conversation dwindles, allowing his mind to wander. A dangerous habit he's getting if he was to comment on it. Fallon talks to the selected to her left and Taylor, who sits diagonally to him, is engaged in conversation with Sierra. He sits in silence, eating his first course.
As the main course is finished and desert is placed in front of him, he groans. There are too many courses in a dinner for him, it's already been an hour.
"Are you alright?" Lyra asks.
"May I be excused?" Evan asks.
Lyra sighs, "Sure honey."
Evan puts his napkin on the table and heads out. He isn't thinking about the impression he's made or the repercussions of his actions. The only thing on his mind are getting out of here.
At nine pm on the dot, Evan gets a knock on his door. It's light, barely noticeably, but recognizable (even if Evan can't place his finger on who's there). He opens it. To his surprise, it's Stella, a face he hasn't seen in five years.
"What are you doing here?" He looks down at the girl. Her brown hair is curled and she's wearing a multicolored striped dress.
She smiles, "I'm the Report Host, silly!"
"No." Evan replies, "You can't be the Report Host."
"Oh but I am," Evan would swear the smile she holds changes ever so slightly to be malicious as she continues, "See, Lady Aisling, the wonderful woman, asked me to be the host due to myself already knowing how to get around the palace and what can and cannot be put on air."
Evan clenches his jaw but doesn't respond. He knows this is something that the Palace's Communications Liaison would do. Practicality overall is her second main goal, after making the palace look good throughout the media.
"So, are we doing the interview in your room or the Report room?"
"The Report room." Evan answers, "Do you remember where it is?
Stella shoots back, "Do you?"
The two of them walk the halls with a small crew of people following behind them. A couple of selected notice them, most have scowls on their faces upon seeing Stella, but who could blame them? She was their friend and got herself kicked out. They never expected to see her in the castle again (not to mention that she's being escorted by their Prince Evan).
They enter a white wall studio with two chairs set up. The Report logo is behind the chairs and there is a coffee table between them.
"Take a seat, Your Highness." Stella remarks and Evan does what he's told, trying to rein in his emotions as well.
The guy behind the camera asks, "You two ready?"
Evan and Stella nod. Then, Stella shouts, "We begin in five, four, three, two一"
There is barely a moment of silence before the first question, "So, Prince Evan, how has college been?"
Evan doesn't remark on how she didn't say the starting words for this was probably not the only thing going to go on the Report; nor does he say anything about his displeasure with the choice of host. Instead, he answers, "Well, as you all know, I've been away studying, but I've put a pause on my degree to spend some time here at home."
"We all know our Price hasn't been the most socially present person across Illéa due to his studies," Stella asks, "will that change?"
"Yes," Evan replies, "I shall be present for the New Years Ball and many more events coming up."
"Oh, the New Years Ball. Will you be taking one of your selected?"
"You will have to wait and see."
Stella replies, "Speaking of your selected, are you going to be seeing them more due to your break from college?"
"They are actually the reason for my break from college." Evan replies, "I may love my studies, but these lovely ladies are also deserving of my attention."
"Why are the selected the reason for your college hiatus?" Stella asks the all too important question.
Evan takes a deep breath before answering, "Starting tomorrow, my selection will be officially started."
"Well isn't that exciting news, Illéa!" Stella beautifully feigns shock, "and is there anything that sparks this spectacular event?"
"I came to a good place to take a stop from school. I'm ready to find a wife from the thirty-five women who have been working their entire lives to become Illéa's lovely queen."
"Well you heard it here first Illéa!" Stella remarks, "Our own Prince Evan is finally ready to settle down and marry one of his girls!"
"That's true," Evan laughs and tries to not notice the single bead of sweat rolling down his face.
Stella leans in, "So, Prince Evan, you do realize that whoever you take to the New Years Ball is the first official date of the selection."
Evan lies, "Yes, I do realize that. The girl I escort shall be the first official date."
"Well we are all eagerly awaiting the news of who the lucky lady is." If Stella has ill intentions, as Evan suspects, she's hiding them well, "Well Illéa, I've been Stella Bunnag and this is His Royal Highness, Prince Evan. From all of us at the Report, we wish you a good night!"
The cameras shut off and Evan heads back to his room, not giving anyone the opportunity to speak another word to him. All he wants to do is sleep.
AN: I have some general rules for this selection. Hope that isn't a dealbreaker.
1. Use diversity.
2. Come to me for questions, but give me 24 hours to answer them.
3. Be creative.
4. Don't request a spot and never give me the OC.
5. If I kill off or seriously maim your OC, don't get mad at me. They're my characters now.
So, now that that's out of the way, I'm hoping to see your ocs! The form is due May 1st, so you have over 3 weeks to do it. This date is flexible and all you have to do is talk to me. Now, go fill out the form!