Her Selection : A Selection Story

Prologue

Maybe I was different, given my situation. All my life I'd been told I wasn't like my ancestors. I was not the same, because of something so simple. If I was not who I was I could possibly be considered normal. But that was not the case. Who I am sets me apart from 99.9% of the world. How I handle my situation separates me from the remaining .1%.

Being the daughter of Jaxon and Josie Ellington had it's perks, and my belief that the ensuing responsibilities that were one day to be mine were part of the perks was what made me different. Yes, being Princess Selene Ellington was great, but with it came many faults. My country's overprotective and slightly confining rules and laws were most of them. My controlling parents were the rest.

When most people in my country are around sixteen years old they are allowed to begin dating. Even before that they have interaction with people of the opposite sex. Although, as the first born princess in our country's history to be set to be queen, the only boys I've ever been around are guards and royalty of other countries. None of which could become my future husband and king of Illea.

By our country's customs, the eldest son in the royal family would marry through the Selection, and the girls were married off to other royals around the world to help build alliances. When my parents had a daughter first and no other kids to follow, they changed this. When I was less than five years old they decided to allow me my own Selection, making me the next in line to become queen of my home country. Yet every minute after they seemed to regret that decision.

For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to join my father and his advisors in meetings, strategizing wars and making out budgets. These things I would have to do myself one day. But my parents would rather send me off to etiquette classes. Every mention of my Selection was shot down with "it's not time." Every remotely unladylike hobby I found I liked seemed to be taken away.

And on my eighteenth birthday- which was traditionally when a Selection began- I'd had enough. All I had asked for was to begin my selection. Instead, I woke up to find a long list of distant relatives and a few royals from separate countries had arrived for a party. There was no mention of the Selection by my parents,  so after I barged into their room, demanding my shot to find love. My father began his Selection at eighteen, it was by all means my turn. They didn't immediately agree, but my outburst made them begin thinking my future more serious. It started a week later when I was allowed into a meeting on our country's war relation. My mother was talking more and more about the early days of knowing my father. I felt what was coming.

Eight months later it was announced to me and the rest of Illea on The Report. At the end of the war report, my father easily slipped it in.

"Tomorrow, some will begin receiving Selection forms. Any household with a male between the age of eighteen and twenty-eight are eligible to enter. In two weeks on the Report the thirty-five Selected will be announced. Best of luck to all you young men. My daughter Princess Selene is the greatest prize that one of you will be lucky enough to have."

I feel my head spinning in anticipation for tomorrow's Report , but still was trying to focus on the plan in front of me. Budget cuts had to be made to help fund our soldiers in New Asia. Not yet a war, but the threat thereof. Tensions were growing between our two countries and I was in charge of finding funding to help end it. Of course my father was probably down the hall in his office working out his own plan for when he found mine unfit.

A knock on the door clears my mind from thoughts on the Selection and my budget plan. "Princess Selene?"

"Enter," I say back. The guard opens the door to allow the person in. I'm glad it's just my cousin Weston, until I see the stack of papers in his hand. Immediately I think back to the budget. That's what this was about.

"I'm not supposed to be doing this, your father would kill me. But as the Duke, I must remain ever faithful to my Princess cousin," he sets the papers in front of me and as soon as I look at them I look away.

"Weston Adams- Ellington!" I say as quiet as my shock allows. "I'm not to see the Selected information until tonight."

"I know, and you surely know your father and I have already gazed through them. Jaxon picked his top three and I picked mine. Don't tell anyone, but when I beat him in this bet I'll get to travel to Swendway on my own- without you guys adding press hounds," he tells me and I roll my eyes. He walks to the fireplace and begins lighting a fire. "You've waited too long for this. And it's all the facts you will get tomorrow so I'm not endorsing anyone. And who we picked might be slightly obvious."

"It's not cold enough for a fire. What if I want to wait anyway?" my eyes skim over the stack again and I catch the name of a province. Allens.

"Then you use the fire sooner. Either way, burn them. I wasn't supposed to make copies. The originals are safe in the king's office though."

"I can't do this," I whisper.

"It won't hurt anything. All thirty-five of those guys will be living here in less than a week. Wouldn't you like to at least know their names?"

I consider it, then look more closely at the first paper. Blair Lennon, 4, Allens. A picture of a dark haired boy with pretty green eyes stares up at me.

"Your parents went to bed already, you should too as soon as you're done looking. I'll tell your maids you won't need them until morning." I almost don't hear him leaving as I move on. Flynn Williams, 6, Labrador.

"Thank you," I say quietly before he goes. I had a feeling now that I was doing the right thing.

A few guys I don't take too long to look at, but there seem to be quite a few that easily catch my eye. From Cullen Russ, the actor and a 2, to Greyson Ezra, the 6 who is fluent in four languages. Once again I feel myself questioning the castes. Was a 2 really so much better tan anyone else? After observing each of the Selected I then make another note. There were no 7s or 8s. Had any even entered or were they just dealt a bad hand with the statistics of being chosen?

I take one more look through the papers, noting what catches my eyes. Five 2s, ten 3s, and ten 4s, seven 5s, and three 6s. Why had they all somehow been picked? Which did my father and cousin believe I would eventually love? Statements like "family ties" and "presentability" stick out in my mind. Again my attitude changes. I never should have looked at these.

I gather the stack of copied applications and cross the room to the fireplace. The fire jumps at the addition of new fuel. All thirty-five papers go up in flames. I watch as the top one disintegrates into ash. The blue eyes of a 4 from Belcourt disappear and I say his name out loud. "Jesse Rambo."