The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part VIII♔

Tyler POV

I sat in my room, lying on my stomach across the length of my plush (( hi Shani )) bed, finally looking through the full portfolios of all of the Selected. I watched in a disconnected silence when my father announced them to the entire country, and decided that it was time to at least learn more about the girls, so that I didn't come across as the asshole who doesn't give a shit about them.

But the more I look through the names, the more they just blend together, becoming less and less real, with very few variations that I could make out from the few documents Korey managed to snag for me. They told everything on the surface about the girls, such as what they did for a living, their grades in school, their castes and ages and basic family information, but none of them stood out too much for me. For instance, I could barely tell the difference between Rebecca Black and Andrea Russett in terms of appearance, Bethany Mota and Acacia Brinley were both models, and most of the girls were Twos, or the wealthy and famous.

I knew my father would pick mostly Twos, but even he can't get away with the bullshit "randomly chosen" thing without choosing from the other Castes. Twos were the wealthiest, and Eights were the homeless or exiled. Sevens were technically laborers, but they're slaves in all honesty of the term. Sixes were Servants, Maids, and workers hired to do what their employer tells them to outside the palace, such as cleaning. Fives were the artists and performers ( I wouldn't have minded a lot of Fives coming in the slightest, actually, but being poorer, there's always less of them ). Fours were chefs, property owners, real estate agents, and the like. Threes were all educators, doctors, and anyone requiring a high level of intellect. Two were the celebrities, the models, actors, athletes... Basically anyone you'd typically see on a billboard. All guards, whether volunteered or drafted, are also Twos.

And the Ones were Royalty. Meaning me.

Anyways, my father has a type, and that type is a good appearance, in every manner of the word.

I was disrupted from my tedious memorization game when I soft knock sounded at my door. "Come on," I called out.

It opened slowly, revealing a slightly worried looking Hannah. "Hey, are you feeling alright? I haven't seen much of you lately, and you didn't even announce the whole Selection thing."

I shook my head, a hint if a smile at my lips at her caring nature. "I'm fine, Han, seriously. I just wanted to go over the girls before they come, just so I have an idea of who they are."

She nodded, and sat down at the percy of my bed, grazing her fingers across a couple of the scattered papers that lie in my wake. "How's it working out for you?"

"Horribly." She chuckled, and moved up the bed closer to me.

"Here, I'll help," she said, grinning at what we both knew was likely to be a shitty outcome. "How much are you trying to figure out? Just their names, or basic information, or everything you can?"

I shrugged, sighing in defeat. "I don't even know. Does it matter? It's fairly obvious that they're all here for the money and crown, anyways," I told her, throwing my hands in the air in resignation.

"You don't know that," she protested weakly, but I could tell she knew the truth. "Still, it would look bad if you don't at least know their names. Besides, they all think you chose them. 'Randomly'-" she said, putting air quotes around randomly,"-sure, but you still had a hand in it, in their eyes."

"Fair enough," I told her. "So, how exactly do you plan on helping me? Because I've been at his for over an hour and I have nothing but a couple of the names."

She shrugged a shoulder. "That's a start. Are any of them sticking out to you? We could start there, and start with the names before working our way up."