Her Majesty: A Selection Fanfiction (COMPLETE)

One

     It was a typical summer afternoon in Kent. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, my little sisters, Ophelia and Alice, singing in the kitchen as they worked. Seemed like they were always working.

    They were only fourteen and twelve, young, yet they worked in homes of Twos and Threes as mini housekeepers. They also had talents for sewing, so on the weekends they made clothing to make a little bit of spare change that could be the difference between a meal on our table and six hungry mouths. I had a brother, too, James. He was a waiter at a local restaurant and was the lead moneymaker in our home. He didn't make much, but it was all he could afford to do as a Six in Kent. I myself couldn't sew or serve for the life of me. I wanted to be a cook.

    I had been cooking since I was nine. I could make anything with the proper ingredients: chocolate soufflé topped with rasperries, roast chicken with lime and cilantro glaze, sweet rolls coated in homemade strawberry jam and melting butter. My mother had taught me. That was pretty much the only thing we had in common; she had brown hair and light blue eyes, I had dirty blond hair with green eyes, she had worn, aged hands filled with arthritis, I had fresh hands with smooth skin. We were a living before and after effect.

  The doorbell rang. I was sitting in my room, reading for classes. That was peculiar. The doorbell almost never rang, unless it was a politician or poor family attempting to make a little extra cash. I stood up, stretched, and slumped over to my bedroom door. I padded down the hallway to the front door, unlocked it, and opened it warily. There was no one in sight. I looked around, making sure someone wasn't playing a prank on me, before glancing down and noticing it. I carefully picked up the cream-colored envelope. It was made of fine, thick parchment that only the highest castes could afford. Should I have opened it? I did.

Dear citizen(s) of Illéa,

   Our very own King Mason Costa and Queen Annette Costa's son, the Prince Charles Costa, has come of age to be wedded. Our royal family has decided that the best way to find the perfect new princess will be through a traditional Selection. The palace has received notice that you are hosting an eligible young woman from the ages of sixteen to nineteen. If you are interested in doing a great duty to our country, please fill out the attached form and turn it in to your local post office.

~The Kingdom of Illéa

   "Harlow!" I jumped at the sound of my name. I should've been at work or cleaning.

   I stepped into the little kitchen cautiously. A Selection? They had only held one a few times. "Yes, Mom?"

   My mother straightened a glass vase full of tulips on the table. "Time to make dinner, honey. Your brother is going to be home late tonight."

   "Oh?" I turned the faucet on at the sink to wash my hands and was immediately flooded with icy cold water; we were too poor to afford the hot stuff.

   "Yes, he has a meeting with his boss after work tonight. It seems likely he'll be getting a promotion with how hard he's been working, best to make him a good meal."

   I nodded but didn't say anything. My brother was the hardest worker I knew.

   "How does fish with wild onion soup sound? That should be easy enough and James loves wild onions." My mother scraped the food off of a dirty dish in the sink from lunch.

   "Sure," I said, retrieving a cutting board and the onions off the counter. I set to work on chopping them, this was going to be a feast!

   I was still cleaning the fish, which I had traded at the market the previous day for a handful of roasted chestnuts, when my brother walked in.

   My mother didn't even notice the troubled expression on James's face, she just rushed in and embraced him. "James, dear, you're home early! We were going to make a special meal for your promotion, oh dear, now our surprise is ruined!"

   My brother gently tugged her off him. "I'm okay, Mom, calm down." He looked around, as if looking for any eavesdroppers and his bright green eyes fell on me. "Hey, Mom, do you think we could talk in the other room--alone?"

   My mother nodded quickly, as if this was an ordinary occurrence, but I could see the worry behind her sparkling blue eyes. She always was one to worry. "Of course, dear. Let's go, Harlow is still cleaning the fish." They drifted off into the other room, James appearing anxious. I wondered what was wrong.

~~~~

    They didn't return. I finished cleaning, cooking, and seasoning the fish before I decided to knock on the door my mother and brother had disappeared into. Rat-tap-tap.

    My mother appeared in the doorway looking flushed and wild. "Harlow," she breathed. "Dear, what is it?"

    "The fish is done," I replied. I risked a peek into the room. James was standing before the old, springy couch with an unreadable expression. "Is something wrong?"

    My mother wrung her hands at her waist. She plastered on a weak smile. "No--um, everything's fine," she said a little too perkily. Her eyes glanced to the left quickly. "There's just been a little change of plans. Bring the fish and soup in here and your father and sisters, we need to talk."

    I rushed to gather the meal and knocked on each of my family members' doors in turn before bringing them to the room where my mother and brother sat.

   "Dinner," I said, handing them bowls of wild onion soup seasoned with chives and cuts of fish. My brother, who, at eighteen, usually dove right into his food, carefully pushed it away and placed it on the wobbly, old coffee table.

   "Um, there's something I need to talk to you all about," he said hesitantly. My mother gave a little nod, ushering him to continue. James took a deep breath. "I lost my job today."

    Ophelia was the first to spring up. "What?" she gasped.

    James fiddled with his shirt. "My boss suspected me of rebel activity and tossed me with a slew of other 'suspicious' guys. Now I'm done."

    "But--but--" stuttered little twelve-year-old Alice. "What about the money?"

    James had the face of a red beet. "I don't know," he replied solemnly. "I can't get another job until the rebel charges are brought down, so for now I'm unemployed. We're going to have to figure out another way to make money."

    Ophelia hugged herself. "But Alice and I already work two jobs and Harlow, Mom, and Dad are all employed. Even that's not enough money. What is there left?"

    My mother put a reassuring wrinkled hand on Ophelia's shoulder. "We don't know, but we'll figure something out. Don't you worry, dear."

    Ophelia didn't look convinced. My father, who hadn't spoken throughout this dreadful conversation, took a slow, ragged breath. "I guess we'll just have to work extra hard to save money until James is employed. Don't buy things unless absolutely necessary. No toys or games for any of you. We can also sell some stuff, like this old couch." He pointed to the worn couch they are seated upon.

    Mom nodded. "Sounds good to me. Kids, go sort through your things now and search for any old toys or things you don't use anymore. I'll see if I can make some trades for them at the market."

    We got up, dismissed, and went to the bedroom we shared. 

~~~~

Yay, chapter one is finally out! I'm really excited for this book, I've already edited and written it, I just have to post now :) In this chapter we get a good first glance at Harlow Davy: a strong girl who is trying hard to support her family. Plus, she cooks. I really like this character and can't wait for you to get to know her and this Selection world better! :D