I do not own The Selection.

"How soon?"

I sat back in my chair, chewing on the back of my ink pen—another bad habit I'd developed due to both stress and anxiety. Stavros was proposing the idea of beginning Avery's selection within the next month or two.

Her and Roman's 19th birthday was Tuesday.

That was in two days.

They would be of age, and it would be completely legal for her to start the search for Illéa's next king—the one who would take a position similar to America's.

This selection would be different, to say the least.

The king would not have the power I held. He would have America's power, and from then on out, it would be up to Avery as to what his limit his power reached. He would be the first king in history to not have originally been the heir.

I was breaking many traditions with this.

That I did know.

"Your Majesty?"

"If Avery has her selection.. within months, where does that put her coronation?"

"It depends on when you'd like to step down," he said. "Though, it would be best if she had a king consort before she moved on."

"Of course."

He watched me carefully, and I said nothing.

Speaking of my retirement was.. odd. This life was all that I'd ever known for the past 39 years. I would no longer be in charge of this country. America and I could take every one of those trips we'd spoken of after we'd gotten married.

"Is two months even enough time?"

He shrugged. "I've spoken to Silvia and Gavril, and they both believe it's enough. Seeing as we've orchestrated a selection before, we're more prepared than most."

I nodded. "I'll speak to Avery. Thank you."

He stood and bowed—the traditional and respectful way for him to dismiss himself, and once the door was shut, I braced my head in my hands. Avery was aware her selection would begin sometime after she was of age, but two months?

"Dad?"

Avery poked her head in the door. I motioned for her to come in, and then again for her to sit down. It would be best if I did this sooner rather than later.

"I saw Uncle Stavros leave," she said, crossing her legs. "Is everything okay? There aren't any new wars, right?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No, no wars."

She looked so incredibly similar to her mother at the moment—long red hair tied up in one of the messiest buns I'd ever seen, a crooked smirk on her face. I pushed the file holding everything about her selection across my desk. She picked it up hesitantly.

Her smile fell.

"Stavros thinks it'd be good to start the Selection earlier than we decided," I said, leaning forward in my chair a bit. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

She shrugged. "I.. I just thought I'd have more time."

"I can push it back, if you'd like—"

"No, Dad, I.. I'm good with it," she said. "You and Mom can't work forever, and I've got to find a husband. But two months?"

"It would all start today—as soon as I give the go ahead."

"But I'm not of age yet."

"The Selection is a lot of work, and I doubt anyone would want to waste the time they have to prepare for it."

She nodded. "Well, let's do it then."

And for the rest of the day, the palace was bustling.

Wren wiggled into my arms.

She and America were basically fighting over the blanket all three of us shared, me unfortunately being in the middle of it all. And while they did that, the rest of our children sat on the floor playing Uno.

Eventually, I tossed the blanket into the floor.

America gasped. "Maxon! We were using that!"

"Dadddddy!" Wren groaned, crossing her arms. "That was mean."

I grinned.

Wren—our seventh child—had been one hell of a surprise. When Ellison had been born, we'd basically made the decision that he'd be our last. But going through with the pregnancy was something we had never once regretted, even if it had been a difficult one. Because after all, we'd gotten Wren Amberly Celeste Schreave.

She had just turned six last year, and was the spitting image of my mother.

I had no clue how.

Wren had dark brown hair, which she much preferred to keep short—typically so short that it was above her shoulders, cut in an even bob. She'd gotten my and my mother's brown eyes, and our more olive-toned skin. To say her appearance had been a surprise would be an understatement.

And as for her personality? She was kind and gentle. An animal lover, a lover of almost every form of art—music, acting, drawing.

America took in Avery's worried expression. "How do you feel about your decision, honey?"

"Dunno," she said, tucking hair behind her ear. "I'm a little worried I won't.. y'know, find anyone that I really like. What if they all suck?"

Noah muttered, "All boys suck."

"Well, I can't marry a girl."

"Why not?"

Avery raised an eyebrow, and Noah turned back to their Uno game with a very prominent blush on her cheeks. She'd been making more—slightly suspicious, might I add—comments about or hinting towards same-sex marriage lately.

To change the subject, Ellison spoke up.

"You'll find someone awesome. And if you don't, well.. then that's just stupid, because we all know you're the awesomest."

Avery scooted over to hug him. "Thanks, Ellis."

Roman nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it so much, Aves. You'll find someone."

Tuesday morning, the palace was suddenly flooded with people.

People who wanted to see their future queen turn of age. People who wanted to taste the finest wine in the country. People who couldn't turn down an invitation to a royal ball. People who were here for the food. People who were basically worshippers of the Royal Twins.

Justin helped me place the crown on my head correctly.

For someone who had worn it for nearly twenty-one years, I still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of it on my head. It was heavy, but not so heavy that my head drooped. Silvia had made sure of that.

America snorted when I turned around.

Mary and Justin had taken to getting us ready in the same room over the past year, which had allowed us all to become better friends. I enjoyed it. It was a good bit of—very needed—emotional support before a big event, whether it be a ball or an episode of the Report.

My wife frowned. "Am I allowed to murder someone? Like, legally?"

"What?"

"Cause I was thinking," she said. "What if one of those teenage boys does something to Avery? She's a princess, but she's not invincible, Maxon."

"Aspen, Peyton, and Carter are her personal guard."

Getting a complaint from Mary, she fell back onto the bed with a huge, relieved sigh. I'd thought of every possible situation that could take place—well, the most likely or upsetting ones—and tried to come up with solutions for them.

I grinned. "And I made sure Aspen gave her those self-defense lessons. Just in case."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Her Highness is announcing her selection tonight, correct?"

"Yeah," America said. "And I'm not ready to let her get married. She's nineteen, for God's sake. Only nineteen."

I frowned. "I was nineteen when I married you."

"You're you, Maxon. This is different."

Protective-Mom-America was likely one of my favorite sides of her that I'd ever seen. She was such a great mother. I couldn't imagine having kids without her.

The walk down to the ballroom was short.

Avery and Roman were waiting outside for us, while the rest of the kids were with our family inside. Both of them looked wonderful. Avery had on a long, burgundy gown that brought out her eyes in every positive way possible. Roman had on a black tux, blond hair slicked back and a light layer of eyeliner put on to exaggerate his blue eyes.

My daughter hugged me. "Am I supposed to be nervous?"

"For sure," I said. "But I promise you that it's only half as nerve-wracking as it seems now, darling."

Roman grinned. "Nice crown, Dad."

America choked back a laugh—but failed.

I scowled at both of them.

Avery sighed and looped her arm through mine, dragging me to the side so that America and Roman could go in first—just like Silvia had insisted. It was a bit dramatic, but apparently the people liked to see their heir beside the ruling monarch. And it helped both of us if the genetic resemblance could be seen.

The room was silent when we walked in, yet suddenly erupted in a series of cheers and birthday wishes.

After the first dance—shared by my daughter and myself, as Silvia had also instructed—we went back to where my many friends and family members were dying to talk to the other birthday kid.

Marlee wrapped Avery up in a hug. "Oh, Happy Birthday, kiddo! God, you've gotten so big.."

"Aunt Mars, you're rambling."

"Rambling is one of my many talents."

And after a short conversation with her aunt, Astra appeared, short red hair literally bouncing as she jogged over. It looked like she'd done away with the traditional ball attire, instead choosing a white jumpsuit with flimsy looking high heels. She side-hugged Avery and Roman, and settled beside me, my arm around her shoulders.

"Hello, my favoritest uncle in the world."

Roman cocked an eyebrow. "She wants to know where the alcohol is, Dad."

"Shove it, Julius Caesar," Astra huffed, her words slurring a little. "But yes, where do you lovely rich people keep your alcohol? Whiskey, maybe?"

America motioned for Kenna—who was sitting near us—to come over. And she did.

Kenna crossed her arms. "Maxon, if you tell her—"

"I'm very much against alcoholism," I said, nudging Astra towards her mother. "Though, she's already a bit.."

Roman stood. "I can take her back to her room, Aunt Kenna. And I'll be back down before Ave's big speech." he offered, and Kenna shrugged.

"Go for it."

So with an arm around her waist, Roman and Astra left the ballroom.

Twenty minutes passed, and just as Roman returned, it was time for the big speech.

Avery walked up to the front of the room, microphone in her hand, and cameras being adjusted around her—purely for the purpose of broadcasting this to the nation. She was to be giving what was likely one of the most awaited speeches of her life.

She grinned. "Alright, well, I'm Avery. And I won't lie—I had a grand speech written, but I've surprisingly decided to just go for it. Sorry, Gavril."

Lucy laughed. "She sounds like America."

"I want to start off by thanking all of you for coming," she said. "Really, thank you. Roman and I appreciate it so much."

There was another pause.

She looked around. "As you've probably realized, I'm nineteen—and the heir to my father's throne, which has been passed down from son to son for generations. Every heir in our history has been male. Until now." she said. "This is new. But as new as it is, to all of us, I've decided that there's one tradition I'm interested in continuing."

The room was silent.

"And that tradition is the Selection." she said, and the room broke out in a series of quiet whispers. America gripped my hand. "Selections have been used, since Illéa was created, to bring a new face into the Royal Family and to connect a future king with his queen. But in my case, I will not be finding the daughter of Illéa, but the son of Illéa."

Aspen frowned. "How the hell did she just come up with that?"

Kenna slapped the back of his head and ordered him to shut it.

"Thirty-five young men, between the ages of sixteen and twenty, will be picked to represent their province here at the palace. Letters will be sent out to every eligible Illéan tonight, and you should receive them within the next few days. The deadline for applying is May 5th."

There was another pause—to let it all sink in.

She smiled. "I'm hoping that with this, I'll be finding both a king and a husband. Someone to stick with me for everything—good or bad. And I'll have to say that after growing up around my parents, my standards are very high." she said, looking over at America and I. "Thanks for that, Mom and Dad."

America and I glanced at each other.

Avery wasn't quite done—but this was where the broadcast would've ended. "And as for the rest of the evening, please, enjoy yourselves."

She handed the mic back to Gavril.

The room was quiet one moment, and roaring the next. We were all on our feet, clapping and cheering enthusiastically. She wasn't even blushing, but grinning and shaking hands like she would've done at any other event. When she reached our table, she hugged me so tightly I thought she might be trying to suffocate me.

"How bad was that?" she asked, pulling back. "I probably should've stuck with Gavril's speech. But God, it was so boring."

I shook my head. "Are you kidding me? You do your own speeches now."

"It was really that good?"

Aspen laughed. "It was better than good, Aves."

I didn't miss the flash of pride that crossed her face.

so i think i'm gonna start putting my A/N down here at the bottom

anyway

got this random idea for a fic, and that would be a red white and royal blue fanfic? any interest in that? anyone?

okay

as always LOVE YOU GUYS

THANKS FOR READING