March 19th, 2102
Castle Gardens
1:15pm

Keene Sullivan

It was a beautiful day outside – rather warm for mid-March, but Keene was not complaining. The air was humid, filled with the scent of petrichor and the blooming roses that the Prince had spent so long tending to for the past few years. At first, his mother had argued against him working in the garden, claiming that it was too dirty and that they had landscapers for that. But over time, with Keene's persistence and the aide of his younger sister, Maeve, the Queen had caved and allowed him to do as he pleased.

So, Keene grew things. He had many different types of flowers and shrubs, some plain and boring, others exotic and rare, but the roses had always been his favorite. There were multiple colors – everything from red to purple to white. Keene was particularly fond of the yellow petals with the orange tips. He kept them meticulously maintained, trimmed and properly hydrated and fed. The entire process was relaxing, repetitive and fulfilling. A welcome reprieve from his otherwise stressful and highly publicized life.

Being the heir to the throne was not what Keene would have chosen for himself, if he had had the choice in the first place. After all, he was only eleven months older than his sister, and more than once had begged for his mother to make her the heir in his place. But the Queen, ever the stickler for tradition, had refused each time he'd asked.

So, here he was. Twenty-one - twenty-two years old tomorrow - unmarried, and the future King of Illea.

The unmarried part would not be for long, he knew. Ever since he had turned seventeen, his mother had begun to hint at Keene hosting a Selection as she'd done. He had done his best to avoid bending to her wishes – a Selection was the last thing he wanted. Twenty-five women vying for his attention had sounded like a nightmare; his stomach flipped anxiously at the very thought. And choosing one to become his wife at the end of it all was the worst part of the ordeal. It made him feel physically ill, for reasons that he could explain but didn't particularly want to think about.

But as much as he abhorred the idea of inviting the women into the castle and choosing one of them to be with for the rest of his life, he was no longer able to put it off. Even his father, who generally tried to steer clear of telling his children how to live their lives, was beginning to worry about him. And two weeks ago, they'd both confronted him after breakfast in an intervention of sorts.

two weeks ago
...

"Keene, dear," his mother had begun, her voice clear and clipped. It was the tone she used when she was not to be argued with. "Your father and I would like to speak with you. Privately." Her gaze cut toward the youngest Sullivan, who was sitting across from her brother at the table.

Maeve looked up, dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion at the Queen. His sister had always been his most fierce defender, and she knew that tone just as well as Keene did. She glanced over at the Prince, who had no choice but to shrug and jerk his head toward the door. The younger sibling frowned, but got to her feet regardless, and headed out of the room.

Keene turned his attention to his parents, who were both already staring at him. The undivided attention made his skin crawl, and he shifted uncomfortably on the soft, red velvet of the chair he was seated in. "Did I... do something wrong?" he asked quietly, dark brows knitting together in concern. These conversations almost always happened when the Queen had been wronged by one of her children, so he felt like that was a good guess.

"No, no," his father was quick to reassure, ever the mediator. Keene was so very grateful for him. "We just needed to speak with you about the future. Your future, specifically."

Oh. That was far worse than being punished. Keene elected to remain quiet, and instead waited for his mother to say her piece. The Queen was sitting ramrod straight in her chair, elegant and beautiful as always. Dark eyes focused directly on his, until Keene felt so uncomfortable that he had to look away.

"Keene, your father and I have been talking." Of course they had. He picked at the lacy edge of the silk tablecloth in an attempt to ground himself, unable to make direct eye contact with either of his parents. "You will be twenty-two years old in a couple of weeks. It's time for you to host your Selection."

Yeah, that was what he was expecting. Before he could open his mouth to argue, his father spoke.

"Your mother hosted hers when she was eighteen. It took eight years for her to become pregnant with you." He paused for a second, and oh, so that was what it was about. Another heir to the throne, to preserve the family line. "We both think that it's about time for you to at least give it a shot."

That made things sound a little better. Less permanent and more of an opportunity to improve his life. How marriage to a random woman would improve his life, he did not know, but... his father wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his happiness.

Keene finally glanced back up, flickering between his mother and father. Everything in him wanted to argue; to defend himself and remain single for the rest of his life. The idea of marriage made his chest clench in ways he couldn't quite understand. Or maybe he did, but just didn't want to. But he couldn't put this off forever, and his parents were right, in a way. It was part of his duty.

"If I absolutely despise every girl that comes to the castle, do I have to marry one of them?" he asked, schooling his expression into something neutral and composed – which was vastly different from the anxiety pounding away at the inside of his ribcage.

Both of his parents opened their mouths, but his father spoke first. "Of course not," he assured, offering his son a warm smile. The Queen did not look too pleased, but made no move to argue.

The Prince took a deep breath, ignoring the fact that it hitched a bit on the exhale. He released the edge of the silky tablecloth and got to his feet.

"Alright. I'll try."

present day
...

The afternoon sun warmed his shoulders and back as he crouched beside one of his red rose bushes. The pair of heavy gardening gloves on his hands impeded his range of motion a bit, but he needed them when he was trimming the roses – he'd been pricked one too many times on their thorns to go without. He closed his eyes for a moment, stilling in his repetitive movements to just enjoy the peace.

It was the last full day he was going to have before he was thrust into his own personal hell.

A shadow suddenly fell over him, and Keene was not proud of the yelp that escaped him as he turned to face his perceived assailant. Wide, dark eyes shot up to meet his sister's own – his dark navy to her chocolate brown. He'd inherited his mother's, while she ended up with their father's eye color, but they were both so dark that it was hard to tell the difference.

Stunned into silence by the sudden invasion of his quiet moment, Keene couldn't bring himself to start up the conversation. So Maeve took it upon herself to pick his brain.

"Kee," she began, hands on her hips. She was wearing jeans and a button-down – something their mother would never approve of, if she had any say whatsoever in what Maeve did or did not do. "Are you sure about this?"

Keene swallowed a bit, wetting his dry throat. "Sure about what?" he deflected, gesturing behind him at the half-trimmed rose bush. "The flowers? They were getting overgrown."

Maeve's dark brown eyes narrowed fiercely, and he felt small under her glare. It didn't help that he hadn't stood back up yet. "That is not what I meant, and you know it," she stated, leaning down and offering him her hand so she could help him up. He took it and let his sister drag him to his feet. "I've known you for my entire life. I know that this whole... thing... this isn't what you want. You've never shown interest in a single woman for as long as we've been alive."

He brushed himself off and removed the thick gloves from his hands, briefly avoiding her gaze. "It isn't really about what I want, Mae," he responded, voice hushed and cheeks red. This conversation was bordering on one he thought he might be able to put off until his deathbed. "And I could... I could learn to love one of these women." But could he? He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

His sister's eyes were burning a hole in his own, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact for the moment. Maeve was trying to read him, and was probably successful in her attempt – she usually was. But she was gracious, and let him off the hook this time.

"Alright," she acquiesced, never wavering in her stare. A small, sad smile formed on her lips and she nudged his shoulder with her hand. "You know I'll be here, no matter what you choose."

Her loyalty drew a smile from him as well, and he took a deep breath. "I know," he told her. And he did – Maeve was the one person he'd never doubted in his entire life, and he didn't know how he could manage to do this without her.

{ two kings }

March 20th, 2102
Backstage
6:57 p.m.

Maeve Sullivan

"I am going to throw up. I am going to get onstage and I am going to vomit all over the people in the front row, and then I can never be King because I will have to flee the country." Keene's voice was pitched higher, overwhelmed with fear as he paced back and forth behind the curtain that separated them from the crowd of civilians and camera crews, waiting for the announcement that would change his life forever. Honestly, if there were ever a time for him to freak out, it was now.

But Keene was excellent in front of the cameras. Her brother was succinct and elegant and an incredible actor. Beloved by the people of Illea, even if he did not love himself. It was a sad thing, really, Maeve mused to herself as she watched her sibling nearly tear his curly hair from his scalp. It'd been groomed for the night, but there was honestly no hope for that mane of his.

"You are not going to throw up," she reassured, striding up and straightening the blue tie that settled around his neck. He shot her a look, and she cringed, recalling several times where his nausea and fear had gotten the better of him. "Well... you might, when you get back in here. But you won't throw up in front of them." Because he truly had never done so before. "And if you do, it won't be the end of the world. Our PR team will handle it."

Kee took a deep breath and let it out, his back straightening up as the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to seven pm. It was almost time. "Okay. Thanks, Mae," he murmured, and Maeve took a moment to be grateful that their parents were not currently backstage with them. Keene would've never expressed himself like this otherwise.

"Alrighty," Maeve stated, pushing him over to the opening in the curtains. Ten seconds left. "Get out there, loverboy. Do your best."

He cast one last look behind him, and she smiled when they made eye contact, hoping to reassure him at least a little bit. This was one of the biggest announcements he'd ever have to make in his entire life, and she wanted more than anything for him to feel good about it when it was over.

Maeve turned her attention to the television screen on the opposite wall, broadcasting the moment that Keene walked out onto the stage. Every ounce of anxiety had been shed, and in its place stood confidence. His posture was straight and a winning smile graced his face – he'd gotten his acting skills from their mother, but thankfully managed to avoid inheriting the evil gene from her.

"Good evening, everyone," he greeted, waving at the crowd and then directly at the main camera, eyes shutting momentarily as he smiled. So fake, but it looked so real. "As you might be aware, I turned twenty-two years old today." The crowd cheered, and Keene laughed, flashing them another smile. "Thank you, thank you. But I have something more important to tell you all tonight."

The crowd hushed then, likely urged to do so by a flashing light that read SILENCE. The crowd's reactions were prompted, Maeve knew, while her brother preferred to forego a written script in order to make his words seem more genuine. It worked.

"I have decided, after some discussion with my mother and father, that it is time for me to host a Selection." The cheers from the audience were more exuberant this time, and Keene had to wait a few more moments for them to quiet down before he continued on. "Thirty-five men from all over Illea will be welcomed into the castle for the opportunity to have my hand in marriage. We will open applications tomorrow." He grinned broadly, offering the camera another wave of his hand. "Thank you for your time – I look forward to meeting all of you!"

And with that, he turned around to head backstage once more, leaving the audience – and Maeve, for that matter – stunned into silence.

{ two kings }

March 20th, 2102
Backstage
7:08 p.m.

Keene Sullivan

That had gone so much better than he'd expected. The nausea that had plagued him earlier was almost entirely gone, replaced by a warm sense of accomplishment. It felt like he'd just ripped off a band-aid, and he was grateful that he was at least past the first big hurdle. Now, all he had to do was pretend to fall in love with one of the women he had just invited to his home.

No big deal. He could pretend for the rest of his life. He'd done it so far.

"Maeve!" he greeted brightly upon reentering the backstage area. "Were you watching? That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I feel better about the whole thing now. Like maybe it wasn't as big a deal as I made it out to be." He was rambling a bit, but usually Maeve would've interjected by now and said her own piece.

...Why wasn't she speaking?

"Er, Maeve?" he pressed, brows drawing together in concern. His sister was staring at him with wide brown eyes, and he couldn't quite place the expression on her face. Somewhere between shock and pride and fear. But that couldn't be right – since when was Maeve afraid of anything?

"Did you just come out to all of Illea before you came out to me?" she asked, voice quiet and awed.

Uh... what?

Keene let out a laugh at that, feeling the beginnings of a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Because this had to be some kind of joke... right? "What are you talking about, Mae?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and fighting down the nausea that threatened to come back full-force.

"You said 'men.'"

"I said... what?" His throat was dry. It was hard to get the words out.

Maeve's voice was level as she repeated herself. "You said 'men' when you were up there. Not 'women.'" And she sounded so sure, not a hint of playfulness in her tone. It would have been such a mean joke if she was actually joking.

Please let her be joking.

But she wasn't. Keene's own words echoed in his head, over and over again, loud and accusing:

"Thirty-five men from all over Illea will be welcomed into the castle for the opportunity to have my hand in marriage."

"Thirty-five men."

"Thirty-five men."

"MEN."

His stomach suddenly churned and he lunged for the nearby trash bin, barely making it before he was heaving his guts up. Maeve was instantly at his side, rubbing his back and helping hold his hair off of his face as he spluttered and gagged, the weight of his words and the fact that they were spoken to the entire country hitting him all at once.

What would his mother think? She might actually kill him for this one.

"Kee, it's fine," Maeve was saying, her voice unsteady and wavering, like she was trying not to cry. "You could post something and say it was a mistake. Or make another public appearance. People misspeak on television all the time – especially live. We can take care of this – it's not the end of the world. You can take it back."

Except it kind of was, wasn't it?

Keene finally caught his breath enough to speak again, swallowing against the sour taste in his mouth. "I don't want to," he managed, just barely able to get the words out.

Maeve hesitated, then. "Don't want to... what?" she asked him.

"I don't want to take it back." His throat was raw and he felt disgusting and sweaty, but... it still kind of felt good to not feel all of the pressure to hide and conceal and repress all of those feelings that he'd kept reigned in over the last twenty-two years. "Maeve, I don't want to take it back."

"Okay, okay," Mae amended, her hand still rubbing up and down his back, steady and grounding. "You don't have to take it back, Kee. I love you, you know? I'll still be here. You don't have to take it back."

Keene took another shaky breath, pulling back from the trash bin to look at his sibling. He had tears rolling down his cheeks, and her eyes were wet too, but she was always so honest. He couldn't find it in himself to doubt a single word that she said.

"I'm gay," he breathed.

His sister nodded her head, her brown eyes unwavering as she kept eye contact with him. "I know, Kee," she replied. He was so, so grateful for her – now more than ever. "Thank you for telling me."

The siblings sat in silence for a few moments, taking in what had just happened. Keene soaked up the relief, his body trembling and sweaty and a bit numb, if he were being honest. Like he couldn't quite absorb the fact that this was really, truly happening right now.

It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours, but eventually the silence was broken by the buzzing sound of Keene's phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, which was illuminated by the bold, accusing name that he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with tonight:

Mother.

Maeve looked over his shoulder and winced a bit, seemingly having forgotten that they had one controlling Queen to deal with. In all honesty, Keene had forgotten too, what with his impromptu coming out to the entire country and all.

"Fuck," Maeve muttered under her breath, and Keene took a deep breath before answering the phone.

{ two kings }

An – Hi there! A brief warning before we go much further into this story: there will be a lot of mature topics. Strong homophobic language, abuse, sexual themes. Please read at your own discretion. As a member of the LGBT community myself, I hope to tackle these issues well and hope that you all will hold me accountable if I fail to do so.

This is an AU from the events of the Selection series, so I won't be including those characters, or anyone related to them.

Thank you for reading! Let's get on to some rules.

Rules:

1. Be original! I love having brand new, amazing characters to work with.

2. Be detailed. I want so much detail in that form, you have no idea. Give me your absolute worst. Ideally, it'll be over 5k words in a submission.

3. I'll be accepting ten main guys for the story, but if you want to submit background characters as well, please let me know and we can work that out too! I need background characters.

4. You can reserve a slot, but it's going to be a soft reserve. Depending on if the character fits in with the story, or if you can't get it done by the submission deadline.

5. Speaking of, the deadline is May 11th, so one month from now! The form is on my profile, ready to go.

6. Have fun! I can't wait to see what you all come up with.

Thank you so much for reading,

van