Labeled (A The Selection Fanfiction)

Chapter Eleven

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After breakfast, a man named Gaunt came and spoke to us about the rules in the Selection. We all had to sign meaningless forms and documents, none that actually meant anything. Until now.

Gaunt was taking a deep breath, and looked nervous. "Also, ladies, if you have already made this mistake - do not worry - I am sure the royal family will not mind for that time. When the Prince asks you to do something, you do not decline." Gasps echoed around the room as Gaunt's thin body floated out of the room.

As soon as he left nervous chatter erupted. I stood up carefully, shocked. I do not want to faint again. That is not Alexander. He would never force anyone to do anything they didn't want to do.

I remember his lips, so soft and gentle, and his hands, careful as if I might break.

And then I realize, Everyone else doesn't know that.

"Umm...hi?" I said quietly. I say it again louder.

"Hello? Everyone?" Eighteen pale faces turned my way. One stays facing the gardens. Bridgette. Cece and Eleanor encourage me to go on.

"I know Gaunt just said...well, that. That we can't say no to Alexander. But I just want you to know...he would never do that. Ever. Alexander is a kind, thoughtful, and respectful person. I know that whoever told Gaunt to say that, or maybe it was himself, that they were wrong. They don't know the generous person that I do. And I hope you guys know that version of him too."

"Thanks...good to know...I knew that..." I hear many things muttered under breaths.

Then the comforting silent hum fades away and everybody stands up. I look backwards to see who is there.

He clears his throat. Sir - what do you call someone who used to be king? - Maxon, is standing in the doorway. "Hello, ladies. My grandson was requesting access in here but...I see you were in the middle of things?" He nods respectfully at me.

I cringe. Oh, he heard that. And if Prince Alexander was requesting to come in, he must be right outside the door so...he heard that?

Oh, no. I hear a different throat cleared. This one younger and belonging to a different brown eyed, blonde haired someone.

"Bonjour!" Alexander says playfully. The transformation that goes over the room is slightly amazing. It is so quick, you could miss it in a blink. Makeup is checked in reflective surfaces, hair is tossed over shoulders, cheeks are pinched, and backs are straightened. I just do my awkward curtsy.

"You're highness," I say, "What business do you have here?" I ask as I rise out of my one legged curtsey to the Prince and Sir- Whatever you call him - Maxon.

Alexander smirked at me , no one could hear us but - you know what? I will call him Sir Maxon. "Well, I did have something to announce to everyone," whatever that announcement was, it made his cheeks flush bright. "But I also had a request for you." That made my cheeks flush and his even brighter.

Sir Maxon was looking at us - as in us - with a sweet expression on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He was silently fingering his earlobe, as if out of habit. He caught me looking and explained.

"I would like to speak to you as well, my dear." Usually I would say I am not your dear, but this was Sir Maxon, not Prince Alexander. Alexander nodded his consent, as if it was his decision. His grandpa saw it too, and chuckled softly. Alexander heard and blushed deeper than his already tomato like state.