Beckett hated the Report with a passion. He had been appearing on it since he was old enough to sit there quietly and listen to the news being spread to the nation. Surely there was another way to inform the people? He sighed as he tied his tie. Sure, being sent to the marine corps was technically a punishment from his mother, who basically was trying to get him killed. But if he were being honest, he much preferred it to being in the capital, where everyone was either trying to use him or control him. Beckett had opted for a grey suit, to express that he was somewhere between mourning and moving on - which was true. His mother had kept him out of any official business, so he had taken the time to properly mourn his father. But, for the betterment of his people he had to push his grief behind him and put on a happy face. He had to do this. Sure, Eliana could apply for his Selection, but chances were slim that she'd get in. Besides, he knew this wasn't the life Eliana wanted. Her father was the senior most royal advisor, yet hardly anyone knew who she was outside of the inner circle. A knock at the door pulled Beckett from his thoughts. He made his way to the door and opened it to reveal his mother.

"Look at that, you can clean up," Tyra said snidely. "Look, Beckett, I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but-"

"We've never seen eye-to-eye," Beckett cut her off curtly. "What do you want?"

Tyra smiled bitterly. "I want you to put an end to his charade of yours, you're not ready to host a Selection, are you?"

"I wasn't ready to go join the marines, and yet I did," Beckett said, feigning bewilderment. "It's crazy what you can do when your back is to the wall isn't it, mother?"

Tyra drew back her hand, and went to slap Beckett, but he caught her wrist, a slight grin on his face. "And now your true colours show," He muttered out, tightening his grip slightly. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to warn her that he wasn't playing.

"Your little whore won't be in your Selection, I will see to that," Tyra hissed.

Beckett narrowed his eyes on her. "Do what you will, mother." He said, releasing his hold on her wrist. "But do remember, I intend to make this the swiftest, most efficient Selection in history."

"Get to the studio, we have a Report to film," Tyra ordered, narrowing her blue eyes on her son.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Beckett said, and bowed dramatically.

"Listen here, you little shit," Tyra growled, grabbing her son by the shirt and pulling him closer. "If you think I'm going to allow you to take what I've spent the better part of my life working towards away from me, you've got another thing coming."

"Do your best, mother," Beckett said nonchalantly. He loved unravelling his mother like this, he was her only threat to power. The line of succession was clear, he was the next to ascend the throne, and if it weren't for that little power play of his mother's he already would have.

The Report was depressing, to say the least. As it covered the highlights of King Leopold's reign and funeral. Beckett sat, stony faced as he listened to it all, as if the funeral hadn't been hard enough, now he had to relive it. His mother tactfully shed a single tear, and poor Giselle looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. He knew what his mother was doing, was trying to get him to back out, make him look heartless for hosting a Selection in the midst of the nation's mourning. But he wasn't going to bow down and back out. He would do what he needed to do to get his mother out of power. Finally, the host of the Report, Holly Daighton, turned things over to him.

"Good day, I must say it is with a heavy heart that I return to the palace, and to my royal duties. The passing of my father has affected us all, and I more than anyone share in your grief. But unfortunately, time does not stand still, not even following the death of the king," Beckett said as he rose. "Therefore, I will be inviting thirty-five young women to come to the palace to compete for my hand in marriage."

Silence filled the studio, even from Holly who knew he would be announcing this. "Thank you, Your Highness," Holly said, bowing her head to Beckett, who returned to his seat. "Her Majesty has decided that due to the time sensitive nature of this event, there will be a two week delay between this announcement and the sending of the applications."

Bitch, Beckett thought as he glanced over at his mother who for a split second smirked in triumph. With that, the Report came to an end.

"Oh, you two, with me," Tyra said. "We need to have a family meeting."

Beckett furrowed his brows at this, but ultimately followed his mother from the room. She led them to her office. Beckett and Giselle exchanged glances, neither one knowing what this was about.

"Beckett, your willingness to put aside your grief, has well, inspired me," Tyra said, feigning being touched as she placed her hand on her chest. "It's truly touching what you are willing to do for your subjects. And now it is time your sister does the same."

Beckett took a breath and did his best to appear clam, resisting the urge to clench his hands into fists. "And what, pray tell, does that mean?"

Tyra grinned. "Your sister was already betrothed to the Prince of Spain, to solidify our alliance against Italy, we are merely moving up the marriage. It will take place during your Selection."

Beckett swallowed a lump in his throat, how did he not see this coming? Of course his mother would play dirty to get the results that she wanted.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Tyra said in a soothing tone to her youngest. "You knew this day would come."

"It's just, I didn't think it would come so soon," Giselle said quietly, clearly fighting back tears.

"Hush now," Tyra said, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her closer. "You are twenty, you are most certainly old enough to marry. But, I suppose if your brother wanted to postpone his Selection, we would have no other choice but to push back the marriage."

Beckett let out a breath and closed his eyes. He could feel his sister's blue eyes on him, pleading him to put it off. But he couldn't, he knew the things his mother got away with, and he couldn't allow it any longer than necessary.

"No," Beckett said firmly. "My Selection will go on as planned."

With that, he left the room, unwilling or unable to listen to his sister's pleas.

Welcome back to another chapter of For The Throne.

I'm asking anyone reading this to please review and send in characters. So far people have expressed interest but haven't really followed through. So, if you want to see this story succeed, I do need some commitment on your part!

Thanks

Baby Bear