For user L'examinateur, Supporting Characters are the ones most commonly mentioned. Though they will not get point of views, they'll often be the ones to walk back from dates and gush all about them, be heads of parties and events to plan, and will be subject to probably the most drama. I really did get so many fantastic characters, and I'd like to utilize them as much as possible, and I'm sorry that some of you were offended with the spots your characters got.
Thanks to UltimateMaxmericaShipper, alexiaroosenhaan, L'examinateur (who also followed and both me and this story!), Issi Herondale, Cookiedoodles168, and wolfofstark for being total troopers and reviewing!
Anyways, here's my next chapter! Thank you all of you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy it!
I feel like punching myself in the face.
What kind of a person forgets to bring sunglasses to Angeles? It's the land of constant summer: the temperature is never less than eighty degrees Fahrenheit, and the sun is going to actually burn my eyes off now. It's too late now, I guess… my blue reflective aviators aren't in my purse, on my head, or in my suitcase, and in less than an hour, I'll be on a plane.
It really almost seems too soon, and yet a million years away simultaneously. That's kind of been the feeling for the past three weeks, since I was Selected. On one hand, the dress measurements and debriefing and things were like a buffer: they were exciting, but it made me itch to get to the palace even more. And now, in the limousine, off to my formal sendoff in front of all of Waverly, I couldn't think about anything but tomorrow's interview. I mean, I don't even know what awaits me when I do get to the palace, but however excited I am, I came to fall in love, to get married, and learn how to run a country, not to get waited on hand and foot and live in the lap of luxury (although, that part is totally thrilling also, I'm not going to lie).
"Lady Marx, we're here." My aid, Serephina, announces quietly, as to not disturb the deep concentration she must think I'm in the middle of, staring intently out the window. I bet I look like I'm calculating a plot, or like I'm upset or something. And of course, I'll miss my family, but I promised to write, and I'm certainly not plotting. Really, I just want to memorize every detail of my province before I leave. I mean, ideally I'd visit as often as possible, but I'm sure that my family would move to Angeles if I won, and I'd have no reason to come back then. We passed Blaire's house, Blanca's studio apartment, the café, the Services Office, the library, and my favorite willow tree at the park on the way to the capital. It's a crazy, overgrown thing: the trunk is knotted and thick, with leaves shagging onto the soft grass. But in all it's imperfections, that was my "place". I used to come read there every day during summers, and I loved bringing dates to watch the sun dip behind the oaks on warm nights. I'll never be able to do that with Prince Cameron; or at least not the way I could with another boy. We'd need some bodyguards close by, and there'd probably be paparazzi or something. It makes me a little sad, realizing my life will never return to the normalcy I'd need to do that.
Of course, it's a worthy sacrifice.
Serephina, on the left hand side, exits the limousine and holds the door out for me. She tells me that she'll be waiting here for me when my sendoff is over, and I thank her quickly before stepping onto the podium, where the mayor is waiting for me before a crowd of countless citizens (almost my entire province, by the looks of it). My family stands in the very front of the crowd, every one of them cheering for me (even Chandler, Declan, and Blanca clap for me, even if they don't get as into the celebration as the rest of my family. I actually wouldn't be surprised if they're only cheering me on because my parents forced them to, as sickening as it is to realize it), and Blaire, a bittersweet smile on her face, is allowed just next to them. But even the comfort in their presence can't help me, and my stomach still clenches so hard I feel as if I might throw up. I have never talked in front of a crowd even a fraction of this amount before, and it's utterly terrifying.
Don't fidget, Aspen. I remind myself, needing to restrain from picking at the cream blazer (even with it's sleeves pushed fashionably up to my elbows), issued as part of the official uniform of the Selected. I also have a silk chiffon white V-neck top and black pants. There would be a very limited amount of things to distinguish me from the other Selected, outfit wise, and those were my shoes (which I was allowed to pick), and the different province flowers. I had snakeskin and cream t-strap wedges, and my province's flower, a magnolia, was tied around my wrist like a corsage. We weren't allowed any other accessories or to modify our outfits, and I have to say, I'm a bit relieved. I mean, how am I supposed to compare to a wealthy two, dripping in finery and expensive designers, as a four? Even if I'm well off for my station, I'm right on the cusp of the lower castes. And I certainly feel pretty lowly, looking around the crowd. I brush a hair behind my ear and try not to look so agitated as I take my place to the right of the Mayor.
I can't help but believe that I've taken something from the girls in the crowd. No one boos, and I can't see any angry faces, but I know that I would have been devastated if I wasn't chosen. And if I was a two or three, and even prettier than me and popular, I'd feel like this opportunity was ripped from under me.
Wow. Not the best thing to help with my mood.
"We of Waverly are so proud to cheer on the new Lady Aspen Marx, daughter of Landon and Nikola Marx of the fourth caste. She truly is amongst the finest our country has to offer the crown, and we will celebrate her victories and her defeats as the competition wears on." The audience supposedly agrees with him, although I don't really like the part about the defeats. I try to only focus on the victories part, like the crowd is. Some people throw flowers for me, the rest cheer and wave. "Please join me in congratulating Waverly's favorite daughter of Illéa: Miss Aspen Noelle Marx!" My ears ring with applause, and my heart swells in pride. The national anthem begins to play in the background, even if I can hardly make it out over the racket, but I hum along to it anyway and picture the words in my head. "Lady Aspen," the mayor calls to me, nearing the end of the song, "would you like to say a few words?"
Yikes. I most certainly did not prepare for this.
"Oh. Um, sure." I respond, realizing my mistake as soon as it's made. I take the microphone, which feels heavier than I would have imagined, and almost gag. Why on Earth would I agree to this? As the song draws to a close, I take a deep breath and address the expectant crowd. "Hi, everybody." I begin tentatively. What am I even supposed to say! "I want to thank you for all of your support, it really means a lot to me. I'll remember all of you at the palace, and I'll do my best to make you all proud!" It feels like I'm babbling nonsense, but the crowd is supportive anyway. I'm not sure how much that says, though, considering I almost passed out and my "speech" couldn't have sounded any better than a notch above horrific.
The mayor sings my praises graciously as Serephina guides me offstage to give a final farewell to my loved ones. He's pretty easy to tune out, because the weight of not being with my family comes crashing down and all of a sudden there's a lump lodged in my throat and I'm fighting tears.
Chandler gives me one quick hug and claps along with the crowd as soon as it's over. I'd like to think she seems a little sad, but I can't really tell.
Persephone's embrace lingers much longer and seems genuine, and I even see her wipe away a tear as we let go. She was far more supportive and excited for me than I ever could have imagined when I was picked, and she's been a presence I looked forward to every day in the past three weeks. My little sister whispers me a good luck and well wishes, now really crying. This seems to be the cue for the first tear to slip out of my eye, dripping lazily down my cheek.
Cooper's hug is firm and sad, and as we break apart I can see that he's crying, which makes me cry even more. My tears are getting heavier now.
Blanca seemed chipper again. I secretly think she's only happy to be rid of me, but she smiles wide, regardless. Her hug is kinder than anything I've ever gotten from her, and she's cheering. Another tear drips from my eye, but she doesn't match any such sadness. It's the warmest she's ever treated me before, in tenth folds. It feels fantastic. Rowan's hug is brief but congratulatory.
Declan wishes some good luck in my ear as he hugs me. I don't know when was the last time he's hugged me, but it feel better than I ever expected. He claps supportively as I lock his wife and his son in a tight embrace. Ella lifts Nate's little hand for a wave, making me laugh through the tears. She wipes a drop from her cheek, and waves to me as well, brushing her golden hair behind her ear and blowing a kiss.
My mother cant seem to stop talking, making me swear to write them back at home (even though I already have) and giving me a million and one pieces of advice she failed to mention in the three weeks where it was convenient. I hug her tight and hold her while she starts to sob. As we break apart, she grabs my father's hand and holds it to her lips as she cries. It breaks my heart.
I'm no better than a wreck when I get to my father for a final hug. Tears ravage my cheeks and I feel like I can't breathe, but he holds me tighter than anyone else and whispers encouragements into my ear. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, my chest heaving up and down. I'm sure it can't be pretty, and I'm faintly aware of the clicking of cameras in the distance, capturing it all and only adding to my stress. It's too soon when Serephina taps my shoulder. We have a plane to catch, of course. But in that moment all I want is for my father to hold me tight, and sooth my nerves. Whatever sanctity I've had is ripped away as we break apart.
Back in the limousine, even though I try to control myself, I wind up sobbing myself into a state of half-sleep.
It did not rest me, however, for the stress of the plane ride. I had only flown once before, when my mom took us to visit her family in Fennley, and it was not a pleasant experience. Travelling with seven other people is enough to make the trip a difficulty, but our seats were all coach, there were babies on the plane, and the flight was wildly overcrowded. I can't help but dread this particular journey.
I'm not exactly sure why I'm surprised, but obviously this flight to the palace is nothing like that one awful trip to Fennley. It's a private jet, first of all, with plush recliner chairs of cream leather. There are only four seats, two of them already occupied (because I'm the third so far to arrive), and I watch as a flight attendant hands each of the girls a steaming mug before I take a deep breath and Serephina nudges me towards the entrance.
I hope to make a silent appearance, but that doesn't happen. I'm not more than two steps into the plane when the two girls set down their mugs and practically run to me. I'm not sure whether to be shocked, excited, or scared. I'm actually a little of all three.
The first girl, a doll-like thing with porcelain skin and the brightest orange hair I've seen in my entire life is the first to act. She smiles the whitest, brightest, most excited smile I've ever laid eyes on and wraps her arms around me, and it takes a few seconds to realize what's happening and hug back. I must give a really weird look, because the blonde behind her smiles and laughs. "I'm Ivy Dupree!" The redhead informs me, right after letting me go. Of course, she didn't have to tell me this, because I had already memorized the names, faces, provinces, and castes of every girl in this competition. Persephone stayed up for an entire week past midnight (when we both had jobs early in the next days) and helped me study. Ivy Dupree was a two from Lakedon, actually one of the richest girls in the entire country.
"And I'm Clio Smirnov-Athans." The blonde tells me before also wrapping me in a soft hug. Her eyes are icy and gentle, and her skin is unimaginably soft. Clio: a three from Labrador.
"Well, I'm Aspen Marx." Ivy laughs.
"Duh!" She smiles wide and pulls my arm to one of the chairs, before calling over a flight attendant. "Aspen, want anything to drink? Clio and I are having Arabian Chocolate Spice Coffee with whipped cream and ground cinnamon on top. They're actually incredible, if you're ok with a tad bit of a kick!"
"Actually, that sounds delicious, but I'm not really a fan of coffee." I tell Ivy, before turning to the flight attendant. "Could I have a hot water with lemon and honey?"
"Of course, Miss Marx."
"You know," I say, turning back to the girls. "I just don't trust the caffeine from tea and coffee and stuff, I avoid it if I can. I actually work in a Café."
"Really?" confirms Clio, smiling into her drink. "Why would you take a job at a coffee shop if you don't like coffee?"
I tell them about the peach cobbler and my parents, and the camellias and the sunlight and the rainbows that bounce from the glass. By the end, they seem to agree that it makes sense to work in such a place. My heart aches a bit in longing, missing Café Impresso.
Clio tells Ivy and I about her job at "Illéan Woman", a health, fashion, and advice magazine where she works as an entry-level writer. Ivy doesn't have a technical profession, and jokes that she'll never need one as long as she lives, but she's really into magic and is a magician in training. "Alas," she sighs, "I'll never be able to go professional."
It's almost a half an hour before the fourth girl, Natalyn Brandon, a three, arrives from Hansport. The New Asian, with the soft eyes and long hair, tells us about her studies in aeronautics. And after Ivy puts on her sleeping mask and Clio pops a pill with a few sips of water, it occurs to me that I'm the one with the least flight experience here, by a mile.
There's lots of noise, and my ears throb, but the takeoff, landing, and duration are all uneventful. Clio puts away her magazines and shakes Ivy awake lightly a few minutes after we touch ground.
Ivy is the first off the plane, and I can immediately hear the cheers from the adoring crowd. Clio follows, receiving a similar reaction, and I come right after her, with Natalyn behind us by a little bit.
The crowd is screaming, and the four of us have very mixed reactions. Clio seems a bit shocked, but definitely pleasantly so. She even shakes a few hands and signs some autographs. Ivy seems almost a little terrified, which shocks me because she seems like such a friendly, warm presence. She stops to wave and sign a few pieces of paper, but not so much lingering or stopping to chat, instead scurrying off as soon as she felt like she could. Natalyn hurries along, not stopping at all, but she smiles.
I can't help myself, and I sign the autograph of the first person to call my name. I'm surprised to find my name on plenty of the posters, but I cant help but feel a bit giddy. Almost all thirty-five of us are peppered in there, with a few girls in particular. Serena Ballora, Bonita Stone, Emberly Saffron and I seem to be the most popular, with lot of other girls coming in seconds.
I strike up a few conversations and take countless pictures, and by the time Ivy calls me from the other end of the isle, waiting by the door of the limo, my hand is aching. It's hard to tear myself away.
We all chatter nervously during the car ride, all a bit to excited to finally get to the palace and see what it's really like. Pictures, obviously, will never compare to seeing something in person. Luckily for us, the ride is only ten minutes long, and soon enough we're entering the gates.
Once we arrive at the front, Natalyn steps out, then Clio, then me. Eager to see, and willing to brave the harsh Angeles sunlight (without my aviators, regrettably), my brain lights up brighter than any star at any position. The world has never seemed so bright and full, and the sun glistens more powerful than it ever has.
This is the Illéan Royal Palace.
Yayyyyyy so they're at the palace now! I am so freaking EXCITED GUYS this story is like literally FINALLY starting I cant wait to write out everything I've got planned and stuff… Yay!
Please remember to review and follow and everything, it means so crazy much to me, even if it's only criticism I like and appreciate all feedback!
Love you guys!
xx. Scarlett
