The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part I♔

Tyler POV

The second a got a message from my father, given indirectly by sending one of the maids, Hannah, I knew I was going to end up in the middle of something I wanted no part of.

However, what it ended up being was far different than what I could've ever expected right now.

I was lounging in my private quarters - the entire western quadrant of the palace belongs to the royal family, which consisted of my parents and I, but my very own section was on the third floor - mindlessly watching the monitors for any updates on rebel activities or other important international predicaments when Hannah came in, a letter placed ornately on a silver platter. I smiled in greeting at her, seeing as she's my favorite maid of the staff, and one of my few friends since childbirth. She was only three years older than me, and being a child of one of my father's supervisors, the two of us were often stuck together at a young age when our parents were busy in meetings. Neither of us were ever bothered by that, though, since we got along greatly, and were simply extremely compatible from the start.

"It's a letter from your father, Tyler," she told me ( she was the only one allowed to address me by my first name, besides my parents and Korey ) somewhat gravely, knowing to a certain degree how I felt about my father. She didn't know the full extent of my feelings for him, but I have confessed a few things to her that no one else knows. She's kind of become my mother, in many cases - though I have a mother; she's just constantly busy - always alternating between the friend position and the mom position. She was like a chameleon, in that sense: always turning into exactly what I need, and adapting to the immediate situation as called for. I'd like to thank her for that sometimes, but I'm not sure how.

I gingerly took the letter off of the platter, and said respectfully, as we were in the presence of the four gourds that were always stationed in every room of the Court,"Thank you, Hannah." She nodded demurely, and walked gracefully out of the room, her regulated knee-length skirt flouncing against the back of her legs as she did so.

She often complained to me about the fact that all women working for the Royal Court had to wear dresses while on duty, but that was another thing my father wouldn't shake on; he women had to wear fairly conservative dresses, and the men had to wear a button up shirt and pants, though they at least got to wear a sweater over their shirts when they pleased. It wasn't exactly a uniform, so much as a very strict dress code, but I still goaded my father into loosening up on that policy a bit. He always argued that if he let go of that, then people would insist that he let up on other rules too. I thought that that was ridiculous, but I knew he was traditional. Plus, if I argued too hard, I'd get punished. And my father's punishments weren't ones that I fancied much, to say the least.

I pried open the envelope, wondering what my father wanted from me this time - perhaps he wanted me to accompany him to France, to chat up Princess Lilly, whom I've met a few times, and got on decently with. However, unlike my father insinuates with himself, I'm not interested in marrying her in the slightest. I could never tell him my exact reasoning behind that, though.

Once I got the letter out of the pristine yellow stationary, I read it to myself, my eyebrows rising with each word.

Tyler,

Meet me in the Common's Room at 14:00. Bring no one else; we must chat privately. It's important.

༄Your Father

He always signed with the royal family crest in front of his signature, but whenever he addressed me, he never said his real name, or even the King. I always suspected that it had to do with not being familiar enough with me for first name basis, but wanting to assert a certain amount of dominance over me to remind me that King or not, he was a part of my family, yet still my authority.