I cannot apologize enough for how long this took to post. Quite a few things happened. I got a concussion, got sick, found out my grandpa possibly has cancer, had relatives visit, and when I did type this out on DocX, when I tried to save it it deleted my rough. Yea, yikes. But it's here now! Also, I have a Pinterest account under my username (thathuman) where I have the girls' appearances and dresses from this and the next chapter. Go check it out, see the competition.

Also, REALLY IMPORTANT: If your girl is not mentioned it does not mean she isn't important. And if she is, it doesn't mean she's important either.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

Lucas was sick the day the Selected were announced on the Report.

It wasn't a mild cough or cold or fever; a terrible virus that caused the Prince to vomit continuously and have a dangerously high fever had decided to envelope Lucas and prevent him from doing his Royal duties. Sicker than a dog, Lucas laid in bed and drowsily watched as Jackson, the head Interviewer and Reporter for Illea, announced each Province's Selected. The bachelor felt guilt settle deep in his gut; it was him who should have been confidently standing at the grand podium and calling out each name with pride and joy, knowing that one of these girls would become his wife one day. And there should've been a nervous thrill, a pin-pricking electric sensation coursing wildly throughout his whole body as he looked up at each pretty face on the screen and quietly questioned if she'd be his One.

Unfortunately, life has a sick twist of cruelty.

Instead of a nervous thrill, Lucas had a nervous tremor as he anxiously waited for stomach acid to rise yet again. He had gotten food poisoning from raw sushi he had had for lunch and not even five hours later was in a treacherous condition of clamminess, vomiting, and stomach pain. The doctors refused to let Lucas get out of bed (he was lucky enough to not be in the hospital wing) and there were two nurses-one a man, one a woman-stationed on both sides of the bed next to him. They were nice enough; the girl talked softer than a mouse and the man hardly talked at all, but they supplied him with whatever he needed.

Antibiotics were given to Lucas to calm the crazy storm in his stomach, but none seemed to have had an effect on the unfortunate Prince. The nurses lingered nearby in chairs, taking notes of his condition as they carefully scrutinized him. Lucas despised the uncomfortable attention but pretended not to take notice of their examining. Instead, he focused his droopy gaze on the unnecessarily large flat-screen television that hung on the opposite wall from his bed.

Jackson was doing an extraordinary job pronouncing each girl's name, and Lucas noted that he would commend the older man for doing so well. There was no stuttering or a confused face during the tougher, longer, and rarer names, but he kept his face straight and looked collected-as always-as his calm and soothing voice proudly told the country who the contenders were. As each lady's name was announced, her picture flashed on the television screen with her name and Province. The wonderful liberty of not being at the Report and calling out the names was that the cameras weren't on him; Lucas had no need to fret about looking too interested in one girl and uninterested in the next. He knew how things like this went: the day after, all radio shows, talk shows, news stations, and magazines and newspapers would be all over who the Prince briefly smirked or frowned at or twitched or did anything that seemed out of place. Even readjusting his suit could be taken as a sign.

Not soon after that, the bets would begin. Who would become the One? Who would get to the Elite? Who would be the first elimination? The first date? Money stupidly wasted on guessing was thrown around. Lucas heard that the biggest bet pool had gone past five million dollars. He had scoffed and shook his head with shame; his people only viewed this as a game, a shallow competition. Did his subjects not understanding that one of the girls they were betting for would be their Queen? Lucas didn't understand.

But that matter was for another day.

Lucas had the privilege and ability to pause the program to inspect each face, as five seconds was not nearly enough to look at a face. Lucas greatly appreciated this opportunity in his pain and greedily took advantage of it.

Even as he threw up.

Again pausing the television, for maybe the eighteenth time (Lucas wasn't sure), the Prince examined another foreign figure. He wasn't nearly impressed by her small smile and wide eyes; it was as if she tried to pose innocently but instead looked utterly pathetic and ridiculous. How many girls would he see with the same fake face and facade? Groaning, he hit the "play" button again, quickly throwing out his hands to signal to his nurses he wasn't in any physical pain. They sat back in their chairs stiffly and looked him up and down with wide eyes, obviously unconvinced their patient was alright.

Leaning his head back on his perfectly fluffed-up pillow, Lucas sighed and lazily hit the "pause" button again. He stared up at the high ceiling and let his mind wander. There were thirty-five young woman who would be living in his home. They all knew his name, yet how would he know which girl was Iona Hampton and the other Kristen Hill? And how to distinguish who was Diamond Pearl and who was Ariel Cohan? Both were redheads.

A shock of painful familiarity echoed around behind his stormy eyes as flashes of Vivienne's orange hair swirled left, right, up, down, consuming his sight. He let himself sleepily remember the memories before straightening up and blinking, letting the orange simmer away to be replaced by the landscape of his room. He felt his grief turn numb, harshly reminding himself he was moving on; so much so, he even convinced the Chief Maids to promote Viv. Though Lucas was still slightly bitter over how things went down between the two of them, he still admired her hard-working ethic and felt it should've been rewarded long ago. He almost missed her can-do attitude before again snapping himself out of his gloomy thoughts. The past was Viv, the present was thirty-five girls, and the future would be just One. Thirty-five girls was going to be insanely hectic in the castle, Lucas was sure.

What would he do if he called a girl by the wrong name? He would be mortified and terribly ashamed of himself, but also embarrassed for the other girl. How terrible would it be to be called by one of your competitor's name? Bad. Very bad, and Lucas wanted desperately to not mess up with these girls. Though only one would become his wife, all of them deserved respect and proper attention.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea lit up lit a firework.

Turning to the left where the female nurse sat and studied a chart, he ordered in a hoarse voice, "Call Chief Maid Lauren Duhamel to my bedroom." The nurse scurried away, peeking her head just outside the bedroom doors to tell the message to the guard standing outside in the hall. After quietly closing the door, she scuttled back to her chair beside the bed.

No more than five minutes later, the tall and thin gray-haired woman appeared, walking inside the ginormous room with the poise and elegance of a high and wealthy two, not a lowly seven. Yet another problem Lucas needed to attend to was the heavy issue with the servants' living conditions. Their Quarters were disturbingly disgusting and their workspace pitifully cramped. It was so hot and humid, the Prince could hardly breathe when he had gone down to inspect the area after it had been brought up in a conversation with Vivienne. It was so bad, Lucas was sure the doctors-in all their nit-pickiness over health and proper oxygen-would have had a fit.

Lauren Duhamel was a highly respected woman, not just with the maids, but with the country, despite her low caste. She had served in the sewing industry in the Palace since she was seven, helping fix dresses for Queen (Princess at the time) Vanessa. Eventually Lauren began making her own dresses, and her beautiful gowns were always the talk of the country, a harmonious mess of sequins and lace and ruffles and tulle all in a single dress. From vibrant and loud colors to soft and warm colors, each dress was a new creation. Her originality had excelled her so much she was now the Chief Maid who directed the Design Department. When Queen Lia was alive, Lauren had been her head designer, but after Lia died, so did Lauren's magnificent dresses.

As Lucas looked up at Lauren now, he hoped the Selection would revive the dormant design movement that had turned bland and boring and dull. He saw her sad brown eyes and deep frown lines and hoped Lauren would be happy again, too; he never saw her smile anymore.

She stood at the foot of his bed, her hands folded neatly in front of her, thin and cracked lips shut tight as she waited for Lucas' directions. Her long, wiry hair was braided down her back, the honorary symbol of a Chief Maid. Her dark chocolate brown eyes seemed neither malicious nor kind, but that was Lauren; she was blunt and neutral.

"You called for me, Your Highness?" She asked in an old, wavering voice that seemed out of place for the bold lady.

"Yes," he responded, throat dry and voice gravelly from throwing up so much. He took a sip of water and cleared his voice before continuing. "I want all dress-sewing maids for the Selection to do something for me." He paused, downing the whole glass of water and shifted into a more comfortable position, his back and rear stiff. Lauren waited patiently for the Prince, looking down at him calmly.

"What are you requesting?" She questioned.

"I'm asking that each dress made for the Welcoming Ceremony is the most outrageous dress known to Illea but I want it to represent the lady based on their form. I trust this won't be a horrendous mash, Lauren, but something similar to your dresses, displaying antonyms perfectly. Beauty and absurdity, loud and quiet, all mixed together to produce a masterpiece. Do you understand?"

The room was deathly silent as Lucas watched Lauren's harsh face slowly unwind and soften. Her rigid body also relaxed, as if her spirit inside her was sighing. A hint of a smile flickered on her face, and the Prince swore she looked twenty years younger. The nurses, still sitting in their chairs beside the bed, awkwardly glanced between the maid and the Royal, unsure of the situation. The doctors were all just as anxious as Lucas was about so many guests and the probability of injuries and sickness, as well as so many people staying inside the same contaminated space for so long. He was very tempted to bring them down to the servants' Quarters and watch them squirm and complain about each and every swipe of dust and dirt.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Lauren murmured, dipping her head in respect. "Would that be all?"

"Yes. Thank you, Lauren. I look forward to seeing your design group's creativity." His eyes followed her retreating form as she slipped out of the bedroom and disappeared. Thinking over his rash and sudden decision, Lucas found his idea wonderfully brilliant. Not only would each dress showcase some part of what each girl was like, but he could apply each girl's name with a picture to remember her by. The crazy dress idea would work; Lucas knew that forgetting weird dresses would be difficult. There was only one downside to the whole plan:

He'd have to remember all thirty-five dresses to remember all thirty-five girls.

THISISALINEBREAKABEAUTIFULCUTELINEBREAK

Two weeks later, the castle had been prepped and ready for the arrival of the thirty-five girls competing for Prince Lucas' slowly mending heart. They would arrive approximately around twelve noon, endure the horrifying makeover process, discover their bedrooms where they would also meet their maids, and get ready for the Welcoming Ceremony that would begin at seven.

Was Lucas nervous?

More than he had ever been in his life; more so than when he had to recite the eulogy he wrote for his mother in front of the whole country. In fact, his nurses, who still checked in on him once every day, though he was becoming ill again. His palms were as drenched with sweat as the ground was from the pouring rain outside. It was almost a bad omen that it would be raining the night he would meet his soulmate and eternal best friend. The thought of it alone released a swirling storm of butterflies and adrenaline to fly and rocket through his veins. He soon began to panic. Would she like him at first? Would he like her at first? What if he sent the One home?

Lucas took a long, deep breath, staring at himself in the mirror. His nicely cropped black hair was neatly gelled back and his chiseled jaw clean shaven. Gray eyes the color of the rainclouds outside flicked across each inch of the reflection, judging every detail. He wore a navy blue suit with a white tie and black dress shoes. He looked...regal, especially including the tell-tale sash and crown of the Prince of Illea. Lucas typically preferred not to wear the crown because it always fell off; he would forget he was wearing it and move his head to the side too quickly or lean back, and off the pure-gold crown went. Even without the crown, the twenty-one year old looked confident and powerful.

He hoped it would be enough.

Another boom of thunder growled before the blindingly light flash of lightning zipped through his window. The thought of the bad omen once again rose to the surface of his scattered thoughts. He sighed, praying that there would be little drama throughout the competition.

He wasn't an idiot; it was a hopeless wish.

After straightening his tie once again, Lucas glanced at the large clock above the mirror. Reading the thick roman numerals where the crafted hands pointed to, he discovered it was six fifty-five. Breath hitching in his throat and eyes bulging, he realized he was going to be late. He smacked his forehead. What a first impression with tardiness. Skimming over his reflection once more in the floor-length mirror, he quickly escaped his room and began to take the long path to the Dining Room, where the girls were already waiting for him.

He let different images fly by as he almost blindly walked the familiar halls. He saw happiness and anger and hope and disappointment swirling dizzyingly behind the stormy eyes. Doubt settled, too, and his heart pounded even harder against his ribcage. It was far too quiet in the halls; the only sounds Lucas could hear were the soft pat of his shoes against the freshly cleaned marble floor, the constant pit-pat of rain against the windows, and his stuttering heart flying to his stomach, shooting up to his throat, and back safely to his chest. Even the guards seemed like statues, unmoving and unaware of the screaming panic attack their Prince was undergoing. He clenched and unclenched his hands and his back was stiffer than a rod as he walked. His jaw was tense and his eyes constantly flitted around, unsure and nervous. Heavy breaths escaped his lips and he nervously licked them, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket when he sees the grand pinewood double doors of the Dining Room.

Suddenly the hall seemed to stretch and expand and the doors became very far away. Lucas walked slowly across the great expanse, but he was face to face with the doors within a matter of footsteps. Lucas considered feigning sick and going back to his bedroom. He was scared. He needed a hug and encouragement that he'd be okay.

He needed his mother.

Unfortunately, Lucas couldn't get everything he wanted and this time it was simply impossible to obtain what we desired. Instead, Lucas would have to man up and understand that this was a new chapter of his life that did not depend on his mother's memory. He wondered what he'd see on the other side of the doors. Would it be complete chaos? Would everything good be possibly going wrong? Or would it be awkwardly tense as these girls despised each other and formed murderous cliques against each other? There were too many endings to the story his mind was writing for him, and Lucas had no idea which one he'd face or which one he'd want to face.

Girls were so unpredictable.

They were a foreign species to him, as his mother died young and he had no girl siblings to show him the being of a girl. His only hope was Mitzi, the head coordinator and educator of the Selected. She had taught the two Princes etiquette and politics, and had practically been Lucas' motherly figure through the teen years. Now she would take on the laborious job of handling the Selected girls, teaching them everything about being a Princess and eventually Queen.

A loud burst of laughter from inside of the Dining Room startled the young man back to the present. The guards stationed to the sides of the doors looked at Lucas, and, with the nod of the Prince's head, simultaneously opened the grand doors. Taking one last deep breath, he closed his eyes as he felt the bright light from the humongous chandelier shine down on him.

The girls' chattering silenced as their prize entered the room.

Hello! So, next chapter, very interesting stuff happens. Beware. Hope you liked it! And if you did, don't be afraid to tell me! And if you didn't, also don't be afraid to tell me! So excited for this thing to get started. I have like a million plot twists that all may or may not hate me for...we shall find out. Four new things I want to start doing! One, question of the day (very random, so you get to connect to me and I to you). Two, questions related to the chapter. Three, answering any questions y'all got for me. Four, song suggestions. Thank you for reading!

Random Question:

What's your favorite subject? (Science for me!)

Song Suggestion:

Castle, by Halsey

Chapter Questions:

1) What do you think is gonna be going on in the Dining Room?

2) How do you think James is gonna sabotage his brother?

Thanks!

~Hunter