I thought this fic was going to turn out lame until I actually started writing it. Then…WORDS! WORDS EVERYWHERE!

At this point I'm just writing hate mail to The Crown, but honestly, the last 5 chapters are still the worst combination of words I've ever read and it's been like TEN YEARS. Literally it's established that the only reason Eadlyn and Kile don't get married is because she wants him to go off and follow his dreams and all that—AND THEN THE WHOLE "WE'RE NOT A MONARCHY ANYMORE" THING BASICALLY MAKES THAT IRRELEVANT AND UGH I COULD GO ON FOREVER.

Conclusion: The Crown is stupid. My version is better. AU of the end of Eadlyn's Selection where Erik has not once been relevant, as it should be.

My throat went dry. I had to force the words out, one by one. "Kile, I could never ask that of you. All you've ever wanted is to leave. That'd be like you asking me to give up being queen."

But maybe not quite, because Kile genuinely loved architecture, and lately, my crown had felt more like a burden than a birthright.

Kile clasped my hands. The sincerity in his eyes threatened to shatter my resolve. "You don't have to ask. I'm offering, Eady. I want to be with you more than I could want anything else in the world."

Anything else in the world.

But that couldn't really be true.

For right now, maybe, but as the years went by, he'd change his mind. He'd look out the window and wish to be anywhere besides with me. The idea of Kile growing to resent me was more frightening than choosing someone else to propose to.

I couldn't give in, couldn't cry. This wasn't about me: it was about Kile. For the first time in my life, I was determined to act with someone else's best interest at heart. "It's a tempting offer, Kile. You know I care about you."

I loved him, even.

I loved him enough to let him go.

There was no way around it: Kile had far more potential than could be reached form within these walls. When you considered his talent and drive to help people, it would be a crime against humanity to keep him locked up in the palace all his life. I wanted to see him make the world a better place.

"But I can't marry you. I can't hold you back," I went on. My best efforts were failing. I was going to cry. "If I was anybody else, Kile. If I was anyone but the queen…it would be you."

He stared at me a moment, bleak. My heart shriveled in my chest; this was pain unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Was this what sacrifice felt like? Or was this heartbreak? It felt like the two were one and the same, wrapped up in one impossible decision.

"Okay," Kile said eventually, voice flat and dead. "If that's what you really want, Eady."

It wasn't. I almost wanted him to shout at me, provoke my temper and make it just a little bit easier to say goodbye. If I was angry with him, this wouldn't hurt so much. But of course, Kile didn't shout at me—he pulled me into a hug, squeezing so tight I thought my ribs might crack. It was over for me then: tears began to leak out, landing on his shoulder.

"You'll do great things," I whispered. I wasn't sure whose benefit I was saying it for. "And I will always, always love you."

§

Dad pulled me aside right before I went onstage. I was already a nervous wreck, preparing to propose to Henri, who I was not in love with, and the speech he gave me only scrambled me further. He'd shown me the scars his father had given him and told me break the rules, Eadlyn. Also, apparently Lady Brice was my aunt.

Who the hell drops a bomb like that right before an engagement?

I didn't know what to think. I'd hardly slept the night before; thoughts of Kile had kept me up for hours. I'd held my ground, and he'd accepted my decision, but it still wasn't an easy thing to walk away from.

I wanted him.

Selfishly, desperately, eternally.

I tried to remove him from my head. Henri. You're marrying Henri. It didn't work. As I went through the motions of my interview, Kile was all I could think of: his passion, his sincerity, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. That was something I could never do, but I admired him greatly for it.

Nothing had changed. I still couldn't ask him to stay. That was the only thing holding me back, the one thread of logic remaining.

If I was anyone but the queen…

Another voice chimed in. My dad's, urging me to "break the rules".

Logic went out the window. What if I wasn't the queen? I'd been born into this role, never asked for it. Obviously I wasn't any good at it. I was a magnet for criticism. Every decision I made turned out to be wrong.

…and why wouldn't it? Like Kile, I'd hardly left the palace my whole life. I didn't know enough about the outside world to choose what was best for the country as a whole. In their quest to protect me, my parents had set me up to fail. I didn't have the tools needed to be a good queen. I would always just be a spoiled princess playing at the real thing.

Something had to change.

When Gavril asked me about my "big announcement", he thought he was leading into a proposal and the formal end of the Selection, but I took the line and yanked it in another direction. "Yes, there is something I would like to announce. In my short term as queen, it has become abundantly clear that I am not the right person for the job. The people of Illéa deserve a leader who is wise, educated, and most importantly, elected. It is my wish that our country become a constitutional monarchy."

Everyone in the room gasped. Even Gavril, normally so quick-witted, didn't know what to say. I plowed onward, undeterred. "It has been such an honor to serve Illéa as queen, and I hope to do much more to aid the country in my lifetime, alongside elected officials. Until formal elections are held, I'd like to nominate Lady Brice Mannor as our interim prime minister. She has been a loyal advisor and embodies everything a queen should be."

For a moment, there was only stunned silence. I spotted my parents in the front row, completely blindsided, and my three remaining Elite. They were all slack-jawed except for Henri, who did not understand what I'd just proposed. Kile was grinning.

Slowly, a smattering of applause emerged. That smattering quickly became a cacophony, and relief washed over me. For the first time, one of my decisions was met with approval. That reinforced I was doing the right thing: not just for myself, but for the whole country.

"That can't have been an easy decision, Your Majesty," Gavril commented, regaining his bearings. "I'm sure this has been weighing on you for a long time."

Not really. Just the last five minutes or so. I didn't say that. "It's not a decision I take lightly, but I truly believe this is what's best for everyone."

Everyone?

Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe I was being selfish again, reaching for what was best for me and taking the easy way out.

Somehow, I didn't think so.

The uproarious applause and burning blue eyes across the studio said otherwise.

Gavril cleared his throat. "In the future, we will discuss the shifting policies of our country in great detail, but for now, is there anything else you'd like to announce?"

It was the easiest thing in the world. I turned to the three Elite in their matching suits, ring in hand. "Kile Woodwork, will you marry me?"

There was nothing in our way now.

Why wouldn't I take what I really wanted?

The crowd went nuts. Kile was kissing me before I could even get the ring on his finger, toeing the line of what was considered appropriate for television. "I thought I couldn't ask you to stop being queen," he said in a low voice, sending shivers down my spine.

I borrowed his words from the night before. "You don't have to ask. I'm offering. I want to be with you more than I could want anything else in the world."

"Eadlyn."

"I want to see the world with you. I want to hear you talk about buildings," I murmured into his shirt. This time, the tears that slipped out were happy ones. "Who would choose being queen over that?"

Our private moment was interrupted by Henri, Erik, and Hale barreling into us, apparently pleased with my choice. Gavril was already clamoring to interview Kile, and I was pretty sure Josie had climbed onto the stage. Reluctantly, I stepped back from the hug and shared my new fiancé with the rest of the world. We had the rest of our lives to whisper sweet nothings and plan trips together. It was all I wanted, but it could wait.