I don't know much about the Selection fandom, but I worry that some of my readers may see this and think I'm some kind of psychopath. I just got the idea in my head and I had to write it.

Chapter Seven

"Do you, Eadlyn Helena Margarete Schreave, take Erik to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the preacher intoned.

I nodded serenely. "I do."

The preacher turned to Erik. "And do you, Eikko Petteri Koskinen, take Eadlyn to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I d-"

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" a familiar voice shouted from the back of the room. Everyone attending the wedding, even me, turned to see what the hell was going on. My mouth fell open as my brain processed the scene before me- a wild-eyed Grandma Singer, waving a gun around like a madwoman at the other end of the church.

Oh geez, I knew I should've invited her to the wedding! I scolded myself. I'd planned to invite my own grandmother to my wedding, of course, but Erik had somehow talked me out of it- she scared him, apparently. I now realized that that had been poor judgment on my part and I really should've put my foot down on that one.

Welp. Too late now.

"NOBODY MOVE!" Grandma Singer bellowed, cocking the gun very pointedly and aiming it haphazardly at the altar. Many people in the audience screamed. Palace guards crept toward her, disregarding her shout for the sake of doing their duty. I gulped.

"Grandma!" I called, turning away from Erik and the preacher. "Grandma…what are you doing?"

"I am doing the right thing," Grandma said very seriously, though she was probably deranged. "NOBODY TAKES AWAY MY CHANCE AT HAVING KILE WOODWORK AS A SON-IN-LAW!"

The congregation stopped screaming when they heard that. "Yeah, Kile was my favorite too!" one of them exclaimed.

"Me too!" another one cried. "Who the hell even is this guy? We wanted Kile!"

Grandma Singer pointed the gun at Erik. One of the guards edged towards her to tackle her. Erik cowered, but he was frozen with fear. He wasn't going to run.

"Stop it!" I ordered. "Erik won the Selection fair and square! You have to be nice to him! He's the Prince Consort!"

"Not yet he's not," Grandma Singer growled. She pulled the trigger.

I was just as frozen. I knew I couldn't take the bullet for him. That was something heirs to the throne were very much not supposed to do. Also, even though I was in the middle of marrying the guy, I hadn't known him all that long. He was not necessarily worth ending my life for.

And of course, Grandma Singer's aim was true. The bullet hit Erik square in the chest, and his eyes bugged out before he toppled over. I covered my mouth, but a squeak of shock still escaped.

A grave hush fell over the whole room. Grandma Singer dropped her gun. "Well, I've done my part. Eady, try to marry someone better next time. Take me away, boys!"

A pair of guards grabbed her by the shoulders. The preacher slammed his book shut. "I'm afraid I can't finish your wedding ceremony, your majesty. Perhaps you should have another later with that Kile fellow?"

Maybe it was a better story in my head, but I just couldn't see Illéa accepting Erik as Eadlyn's consort. Sorry.