Thank you to the wonderful people who have submitted to me so far! I really do love your submissions! SYOC is still open, so keep sending in characters! I hope this chapter didn't come too late for you, it took me a while to write while sorting through character descriptions. More updates soon!

Winter looked regal in her dress for the Report. It was midnight blue and had long, draping sleeves, fitting for a princess. She wore a circlet in her hair, a reminder to the public that she was still a Royal even if she wasn't the heir to the throne. She'd reluctantly agreed to shed her black mourning clothes for the public broadcast, but Grayson could tell the dark blue was a small rebellion on her part- so close to black it might as well have been.

But it was no matter, as everyone on set was running about excitedly. Even though he normally played a minimal role on the Report, it was all about Grayson tonight. After the usual announcements, the master of events would turn things to Graham, who covered all of the festivities at the palace, and that now included the Selection.

Grayson straightened the sleeves of his suit, nervous. His mother smiled at him from the Queen's throne, next to her husband's empty seat. The King was no doubt making last minute rearrangements to the order of the announcements made by his advisors.

"Excited?" she asked. "Terrified?"

Grayson relented and let a smile slip. "I'm not sure, both? A bit closer to terrified?" His mother laughed and took his hands. She'd been through this, too, Grayson realized. She'd been a Daughter of Illea. She'd sat on the other side, watching through her television screen as his father's Selection was announced. She'd won a first date, somehow, and she'd organized events and proved herself worthy to be a princess. She'd gone through it all. She'd even won the approval of Grayson's grandparents.

His grandparents… Grayson held his smile, but felt a twinge of sadness. They'd been so excited for him to have a Selection. Now they wouldn't be around to see who he chose.

"Don't worry," Queen Magnolia said. She, like her daughter, wore a darker colored dress, but her wine red was much more noticeable than Winter's near-black. Magnolia always wore dark colors, though. It was one of her ways of assuming the role of a Queen. Always regal, always mature. Only at festivals did she wear any lighter, more playful patterns.

"How am I supposed to do that?" Grayson asked.

His mother smiled. "There are thousands of girls out there who are going to apply. We only let in thirty-five. And you know your father will make sure those thirty-five are the absolute best. You can take all the time in the world to make whatever decision you need to make. The Selection is a tradition, but it has been effective for generations. For me, for your grandparents, all the way up to your great-great-great-great-great-grandparents. Everyone found someone they loved. That's how you know this works. And it's going to work for you, too. I don't know how, but I know it will."

"Thanks," Grayson said, but that was the end of their conversation, as King Monroe bustled over to take his seat and voices called for quiet.

The Report began. Stiff advisors in crisp suits were called forward by the master of events, announcing budget changes, foreign agreements, and local disputes that had been addressed. The announcements were shorter this week, as everyone was rushing to make time for Grayson.

Grayson and Winter sat on either side of their parents. Grayson didn't need to look at her to know she was upset, but she would be the only person around that disliked the Selection. Queen Magnolia and King Monroe were excited, and that set the mood for everyone else. Grayson couldn't understand what Winter's objection was.

Finally, it was time to make the announcement. Graham started talking, and soon the cameras panned over to Grayson, who smiled confidently, shoving his nerves aside. He stood up and tried to appear jovial, friendly.

"Yes, it's true, Graham," he said, cutting in after the last of Graham's introduction. "A Selection. This hasn't been a rash decision on my part- this has been in the works for some time. I am ready to throw myself into this. It's time I met my wife." He smiled confidently.

"Any ideas what you're looking for?" Graham asked seriously.

Grayson shrugged. "It's hard to say. Everything could change in a second, but I suppose one thing I've always imagined someone that's willing to do the hard thing because it's necessary. If I've learned anything from my father, it's that running a country is no easy task. You are constantly thinking about what's best for your people. I'm looking for someone who will sacrifice the way my father and mother do, in order to make this country a better place."

"Well said, Your Highness," Graham said, and everyone applauded politely.

Grayson took a deep breath and allowed the Report to conclude. As everyone was filtering out, Winter stormed up to him.

"We need to talk," she said.

"Fine," Grayson said, tired. His sister's attitude was getting on his nerves. Sure, she was upset that they were having a Selection. But she needed to get over it. He'd explained his reasons to her, already.

The two left the stage, stepping into a room that was empty for the night. Grayson crossed his arms, waiting for his sister to talk.

"This entire Selection is a ploy, and you know it, Grayson," Winter started. Grayson rolled his eyes. "It's not about you finding a wife, it's about forcing people back into their castes. People can't enter unless they fill out the entire application, including their caste. Did you know that?" She glared pointedly.

Grayson shrugged. He didn't know people couldn't enter if they left anything blank, but what did it matter? His sister just didn't understand. The castes were necessary.

"You're using this game show as a way to oppress our people!" Winter cried, then stopped and lowered her voice, suddenly worried someone might hear. "How can you be doing this?"

Grayson fixed her with a steely look. "Winter, your beliefs are founded on a knowledge of our country that only scratches the surface of what is true. You're worried about oppression of the people? There won't be any people to oppress if the economy collapses, because there won't be anything at all. People will starve out on the streets. This way, the Eights might have less than the Fours, but at least we can set up programs specifically targeted at aiding the lower castes. If you got your way, we'd be setting up welfare for the entire country."

"You can't possibly believe that," Winter retorted. Grayson sighed. Of course he believed it. He'd seen the budget reports, he'd seen the job distribution in the last census. And he'd seen the response to his father's attempts at reinstating the castes. The upper castes approved of the monarchy more than ever. The Prime Minister they'd kept around had been diminished to nothing more than an advisor on the council, a figurehead. People were fond of Grayson and supported his ascension to the throne. The Selection would only boost his popularity as people saw that he was serious about finding someone to be by his side before he took over for his father.

"Winter, I've spent my life monitoring our country's well being. This is what's best. You don't have to understand that, but you do need to realize there's nothing you can do to change this," Grayson said coolly.

"Have you seriously considered that you're going to be stuck with the girl you choose for the rest of your life? You're supposed to fall in love with someone? Do you even know what that's like? Do you know how to fall in love?" Winter laughed. "I doubt it."

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Do you?" he retorted. Winter glared at him, and he stalked off.

As Grayson stormed off, he realized. Winter was right… He didn't know how to fall in love. And he knew it.